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HARPER'S
ROUND TABLE
i
895
NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS
FRANKLIN SQUARE
Copyright, 1S95, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
All rights reserved.
INDEX TO ILLUSTRATIONS
ADELPHI Academy Track Athletic Team, 609.
Admiral for a Night, An, 337.
Afloat With the Flag, 1, 24, 41, 00, 80, 96, 120, 129, 168, 184,
201, 220, 232, 245, 265, 281, 300.
AFRICA:— The African Explorer, 304; Sports and Amuse-
ments of African Natives, 3S8, 389, 412, 413.
" Ain't it just blessed we've got dis umberilla?" 352.
"Alberaarle." The Blowing Up of the, 241.
Alps, A Garrison On the Tops of the. 29.
Ambuscade on Clover Hill, The, 316.
An Own Relation, 953.
Audover School, 484, 485 ; Andover Academy's Two
Record Runners, 513 ; Andover's Track Athletic
Teum, 681.
April fool. An, 384.
Art, The Girl Who Comes to the City to Study, 332.
Articles of Confederation, The, 437.
Artificial Ice, «12, 813.
ASTRONOMY : — On the Earth and in the Sky, 212, 213,
844, 845.
At the Brownie Play, 228, 229.
At the Seaside, 90'J.
ATHLETICS: — The New York Inter-scholastic Cup, 465;
Barnard School Track Athletic Team, 489 ; Ando-
ver Academy's Two Record Runners, 513 ; Inter-
scholastic Games at Berkeley Oval, 537, 5:i8 ; In-
ter-city Games at Berkeley Oval, 561 ; German-
town Academy Baseball Nine — Lawreuceville
Baseball Nine, 585 ; Oakland High School Athletic
Team — St. Paul's, Garden City, Baseball Nine,
633; The Worcester- Andover Games. 657 ; The
Running High Jump. 776, 778 ; Hartford High
School Track Athletic Team. 801 ; The Hotchkiss
School Football Eleven, 1089.
Aunt Selina's Mistake, 360, 377.
B
BABY Elephant's Misadventure, The, 712; Baby Elephant
and Bubbles, 736.
Ballad of the "Constitution," A, 1012, 1013.
Baltic Canal, The United States Navy at the, 820, 821.
Barnard School Track Athletic Team, 489.
Basket, A Novel, 87.
Battle of New Orleans, The, 439.
BEARS :— A Comic Valentine, 272 ; The Obliging Bear,
904.
BICYCLING : — Bicycles of To-day and Yesterday, 409 ;
A Bicycle Corps' Outing, 860, Kfil ; An Improved
Bicycle, 880 ; The Right aud the Wrong of It, '.lit',,
917. (See also " Maps. ")
Bilberry School Exhibition. The, 1029.
Bill Tybcc anil the Hull. i!4S.
Blowing Up of the Irourlad " Albemarle," 241.
Boat, A Shooting-, How to Build, lisi).
Bombardment of the Golden Gate, The, 1084, 1085.
Bonbon or Work Box, 11.
Book, The Making of a, 796, 797.
Boot on the other Leg, The, 369.
Boston, Map of, 101)2.
Hoys' Ambuscade, The. 128.
BOYS AND GIRLS OF Ni-:w YORK STREETS: — A Slro-i
waifs Luck, 161; Danny ('ahill. Newsboy, 345 ; A
Daughter of the Tenements, 528.
Boys' Work and Play, New York, 193, 196, 197.
liraddie's Brother, K33.
Brooklyn, Map of, 588.
Brooklyn Bridge, The, 788.
Brownie Play, At the, 228, 229.
Budd Wilson's Judgment, 321.
BUILDING OF MODERN WONDERS, Till':: — The Ocean <;ivv-
hound. 4 ; The Flying machine, 231!, 2:17; The Lo-
comotive, 311-313 ; The Hook, 7'JO, 797 ; The Elec-
tric Trolley-car, 1052, 1053.
Bunkey, Monkey, and Jirnmieboy, 352.
CABINET, The President's, 772, 773.
Canoe, A Canvas, 826.
Canoeing, 849, 850.
Captain Billy, 73.
Cargo of Burning Coal, A, 929.
Carrier Pigeons Coming to Their Cote — The Interior of
the Pigeons' Home, 932 ; McGinty, Annie Roouey,
and a Guest, 933.
Cascadilla Crew, The, ami Boat house, 961.
Case for Shaving papers, A Simple, 134.
Cat Boat Race, A, 16.
Cat Show, The, 548.
Cat-boat, A Racing, 891-894.
Catch all, The, 239.
Cats and Dogs. A Hotel for, 308, 309.
Chickens and the Chicken-coop, 396, 397.
Children of the American Revolution, The National So-
ciety of the, 1H04. 1005.
Children's Dauciug Classes, 301.
Christmas Crank. A, 105.
Circus Training School, The, 784.
Clinton High-school Track-athletic Team, 753.
Cobweb Lane, 788.
Comic Valentine, A, 272.
Cooking-school, A Girl's, Without a Fire, 277.
Cooper, James Fenimore, 652. 653.
Coppertowu "Star" Route, The, 1001.
Corean Money, 951.
Corporal Fred, 737, 768, 792, 816, 837, 864, 889.
Crossbow, How to Make a, 268.
D
DANCING Classes, Children's, 301.
Danny Cahill. Newsboy, 345.
Daughter of the Tenements, A, 528.
Day in the Senate, A, 132, 133.
Death of Stonewall Jackson, 521.
" Defender's " Launching. At the, 758 ; " Defender," 944.
Demon of Snaggle-tooth Rock, The, 984.
Detective, The Real and the Unreal, 34'J.
Diver's Story, The, 8.
Doilies for Christmas Presents, 44.
Dolls, The : A Drama in Pantomime, 97-104.
"Dorothy Q" Party, A, 260, 261.
E
EARLY DAYS OF SUCCESSFUL MEN:— Admiral Ghcrardi,
12, 13 ; General Miles, 36, 37 ; The Artist F. S.
Church, 364, 365.
Easter, Eggs for. 383.
East-side Boy, The, and His Games, 1060, 1061.
Eggs for Easter, 383.
Electric Machine, Diagrams for, 204.
ELEPHANTS :— Toby, The Trick Elephant, 48 ; The Sad
Fate of a Mischievous Elephant, 668 ; An Ani-
mated See saw, 904 ; His First View of an Ele-
phant, 928.
English Eliza, 1073.
Envelope Photograph-frames. 223.
Escape of Three Girls, The, 317.
FALES'S Oshia, 9, 17, 40.
Fight in the Fog, A, 881.
Fighting the Elements, 865.
Flag- bearer. The, 569.
Flora, Queen of Summer, 556, 557.
Flying-machine, The, SI6, 237.
Football— The Wedge Knnoalmn, 921; The Hotchkiss
School Football Eleven, 1089.
Forgotten Guns, The, 501.
Four Young Russian Heroes, 956.
"Fourth," The, 688.
Foxes, Those Funny, 638.
BABE LOLAR'S Caribou, 209.
Games, The East-side Boy and His, 1060, 1061.
Garrison On the Tops of the Alps. A, 29.
Germantown Academy Baseball Nine, 585.
Gettysburg, The Charge at, 545.
Gherardi, Admiral. War-.ships Commanded by, 13.
Ghostly Whaling-ground, A 'juo
Girl Who Comes to the City to Study Art, The, 332.
Girl's Cooking school Without a Fire, A, 277.
Grasshopper, The, and the Cider 1'iggin, 808.
GREAT MEN'S SONS :— The Son of Alexander the Great,
785 ; The Son of Charlemagne, 840 ; The Son of
Luther, 869 ; The Son of Napoleon, 912 ; The Son
of Cromwell, 957 ; The Son ol Shakespeare, 981.
GREAT STATE PAPERS: — The Treaty of Versailles, 55 ; The
Japanese Treaty, 268 ; The Muscat Treaty. 269 ;
Ratification of Constitutional Amendment by stale
of New York, 436 ; The Articles of Confederation,
437; The "McKinley" Tariff Law, 628; The
" Sherman " Silver Law, 629.
Greedy Thomas, 976.
Green Pansies, 180, 181.
Groton School, 188, 189.
Guest of Two Nations, A, 353.
Hampton Roads, The Fight at, 497.
Hand-in-hand Skating, 253.
Harpoon, The Modern, 728.
Harry Borden's Naval Monster, 1025.
Hartford High school Track-athletic Team, 801.
Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 724, 725.
He Knew. 952.
Hotchkiss School Football Eleven, The, 1089.
Hotel for Cats aud Dogs, A, 308, 309.
Horse-bicycle, Melville's, 880.
House of Representatives, An Exciting Moment in the,
697.
How Jack Lockett Won His Spurs. 71::.
How Reddy Gained His Commission, 905, 936.
How to Make a Crossbow, 268.
ICE, Artificial, 812, 813.
Ice of New York Harbor, In the, 297.
In the Greenland Ice, 441.
In the Strawberry Patch, 408.
Insect Factory, A' National, 31.
Inter-city Athletic Games at Berkeley Oval, 561.
Inter-scholastic Athletic. Meet at Berkeley oval, 537, 538.
Inter-scholastic Cup, The New York, 465.
Irving, Washington, 532, 633.
JAPANESE Treaty, The, 268.
Jirnmieboy and the Animals, 381.
Joan, The Little, 1040.
Joe Griffin's Great Jump, 397.
Joe's Scheme, 761.
John Kilburne's Fort, 744.
Joys of the Steamship Hunt, 549.
Jule's Garden, 333.
Jump, The Running High, 776, 778.
KALEIDOSCOPE, A Beautiful, 414.
KING ARTHUR AND His KNIGHTS :— Journeying Towards
London, 5K4 ; The Sword. 608 ; Arthur and Hie
Knights, 621 ; The Final Trial, 656.
King Arthur's Round Table, 662.
Kite Tale, A, 544.
Knave of Hearts, The, 673-677.
Knickerbocker Grays, 509.
LARGEST Magnet in the World, The, 108.
Lawrenceville Baseball Nine, 585.
Leyden Jar, The, 175.
Life in a Paris School, 252.
LIFE-BLOOD OF A GKKAT CITY: — Getting Into and Out of
New York, 116, 117; How New York Sees at
Night, 372, 373 ; How New York Gels Its Water,
460, 461.
Light-house, Life in a, 644, 645.
Light-house, The, and the Mariner, 356. 367.
Lion, The, the Pitfall, and the Belated Traveller. 432.
Little Joan, The, 1040.
Little Minute-man, The, 693.
Little Red Book, The, 81, 109, 121, 136, 173, 1S5. 'Jnr,
Locomotive, Building the, 311-313.
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth. 940, 941.
Longmeadow Toll-gate, 401, 433.
Longwood Tennis Tournament, Final Match of the, 801.
Looming Falls Air-line Express, The, 225.
Lorelei of the Show bills, 289.
M
" MAD ANTHONY " WAYNE at Stony Point, 473.
Magnet, The Largest, in the World, 108.
MAPS: — New York, Showing Asphalted and Macadam-
ized Streets, 468 ; Road-map, New York to Tarry-
town, 492 ; Road map, New York to Stamford,
Conn., 516 ; Road-map, New York City to Tntten-
ville, Staten Island, 540 ; Road - map. New York
City to Pine Brook, New Jersey, 564 ; Map oi
Brooklyn, Showing Asphalt, Macadamized, and
Granite paved Streets. 588 ; Road-map, Brooklyn
to Babylon, 612 ; Road-map, Brooklyn to North-
port, 636 ; Road-map, Tarrytown to Poughkeep-
sie, 660 ; Road-map. Poughkeepsie to Hudson,
685 ; Road-map, Hudson to Albany, 708 ; Road-
map. Perth Amboy to Trenton, 732 ; Road-map,
Philadelphia to Trenton, 756 ; Philadelphia, 780 ;
Road-map, Philadelphia- Wissahickon Route,
804 ; Road map, Philadelphia to West C'li-
828 ; Road map, Philadelphia to Rn.-e.lale. s.vj .
Rosedale to Atlantic City, 876: Philadelphia to
Salem, 900 ; Salem to Vin'eland, 924 ; Stamford to
New Haven, 948 ; New Haven to New London,
972 ; New London to Shannock. 991! ; Shann.n-l;
to Providence, 1020; Providence i" ilnsti'ii. 1044 :
The Boston, Concord, and Lexington Kuute U
Boston, Showing Asphalted and Macadamized
Streets, 1092.
Matter of Taste, A, 72.
" McKinley " Tariff Law, The, 628.
Merry Owlets, The, 856.
Messenger Boy's Adventure. 4i'l.
Miles, General, in His Tent Dunns the Recent Chica!;"
Riots, 36; Cavalry Being Reviewed by General
Miles, 37.
VI
INDEX
Military Bicycle Corps' Outing, A, 860, 861.
Military Signalling, 164, 165.
Miniature Railroad System, A, 580, 581.
Misplaced " Fourth," A, 665.
Miss Appolina's Choice, 456, 480, 504.
" Monitor" and "Merrimae," 497.
Moon, What We Know of the, 212, 213.
Mouse, A Very Wise Little, 192.
Mr. and Mrs. Tumble-bug, 963-965.
Mr. Gobbler's Story, 52, 53.
Muscat Treaty, The, 269.
Mushroom Spore-prints, 444, 445.
N
NATIONAL Insect Factory, A, 31.
NATURAL HISTORY:— Green Pansies, 180. 181 ; Mushroom
Spore-prints, 444, 445 ; Mr. and Mrs. Tumble-bug,
963-965.
Natural History in the Tropics, 88.
Natural Inquiry, A, 928.
Nautical Fire-balloon, A, 625.
NEW YORK CITY: — Getting Into and Out of New York,
116, 117; Boys and Girls of New York Streets,
161,345; New York Boys' Work and Play, 193,
196, 197 ; How New York Sees at Night, 373, 373 ;
How New York Gets Its Water, 4fiO, 461 ; Map
Showing Asphalted and Macadamized Streets, 468.
New York Interscholastir Cup, The, 465.
Newport Tennis Courts, The, 897.
Nocturnal Repulse, A, 257.
Number 100, 624.
O
OAKLAND High-school Athletic Team, 633.
Oakleigh, 641, 672, 697, 721, 745, 769, 793, 817, 841, 857,
888, 913, 937, 961, 985, 1009, 1033, 1057, 1081.
Obliging Bear, The, 904.
Ocean Greyhound, Budding the, 4.
Oil' with (.be Merboy, 448, 453, 477, 512, 636, 560.
Old Manse, The, 725.
On an Arizona Trail, 417, 421, 425, 427.
On Board the Ark, 800, 824, 848, 872, 896, 920, 933, 968,
992, 1016.
ON THE EARTH AND IN THK SKY : — What We Know of
the Moon, 212, 213; The Earth Yesterday, To-day,
To-morrow, 844, 845.
Opening of the Circus Season, 520.
Ostrich Stomach, An, 808.
PAPA'S Rod: A Christmas Play, 140, 141.
Paris School, Life in a, 252.
Patience Rawlins's Heroism, 221.
Perils of the Newfoundland Banks, 741.
Philadelphia, Map of, 780.
Phillips Exeter Academy. The, 284, 285.
Photograph Taken in the T\ nil, TiiT.
Photographer at Work, 698.
Photograph frames. Envelope, 223.
"Piece of Work, A," 1056.
Pigeons, Carrier, 932, 933.
Pin cushion. Ornamental, 239.
Playing Robbers, 32.
Pleasant Disappointment, A, 600.
Postage Stamps, St. Valentine's, -JSK
Private Theatricals and How to Get them L'p, 26-28, 83-
85.
Prize Pumpkin, The, 4il.
" Professor Jim's" Christmas Dinner, 89, 91.
Proper Use of a Shot gun, The, 632.
Prying Mary. 1048.
Pussy and the Fool's-cap, 416 ; Pussy and the Goldlish,
661.
Q
QUICK Cure, A, 368.
Quill-Pen, Esquire, Artist, 716, 717.
R
RABBITS : Their Care, and How lo iiuild Their Houses.
508.
Railroad System, A Miniature, 580, 581.
Rainbow Tea, A, 752.
Kainy Season in the Tropics, The, 336.
RAISING AND KEEPING OF PETS: — Chickens and the
Chicken-coop, 396, 397.
Raleigh Reds, The, 689.
Red Devils' Rescue, The, 248.
Revengeful Whale, A, 488.
Rhinoceros, The, the Elephant, and the Ox, 48.
Right and the Wrong of It, The, 916, 917.
Road Rangers, 145, 149, 153, 157.
Round Table, King Arthur's, 662.
Runaway Fin-back, A, 21.
Running" High Jump in Detail, The, 776, 778.
Russian Boys' Novel Coasting, 244.
SAD Fate, The, of a Mischievous Elephant, 568.
"Salty tear stole down his manly cheek, A," 336.
Sam I.ee and the Flying Top, 592.
Santa's Mistake, 112.
Saved by a Carcass, 593.
"Scapegrace," 216, 217.
SCHOOLS, TYPICAL AMERICAN : — St. Paul's School, 76, 77 ;
Phillips Exeter Academy, 188, 189 ; Andover
School, 484, 485.
Scrub Quarter-back, The, 33.
'Scutney Mail, The, 233, 249, 263, 264, 280, 296
Sea Rangers, 977, 1008, 1033, 1049, 1080.
Sea-water, The Composition of, 952.
See-saw, An Animated, 904.
Setting a Hen, 368.
Shakespeare, The Son of, 981.
Shark-catching in Mid-ocean, 1087, 1088.
"Sherman " Silver Law, The, 629.
Ship Without a Light, The, 525.
Shooting the Chute, 884, 885.
Shooting boat, How to Build a, 680.
Shot gun, The Proper Use of a, 632.
Signets, How to Find and Mount, 1076, 1077.
Sister Sue's Dream About Brother Tommy, 496.
Skaters, Two Ingenious, 1096.
Skating, Hand-in baud, 253.
Sketching Class, A, in a New York Art School, 332.
Ski runners. With the, 329.
Smiles, A Contest in, 32.
Snow shoes and Sledges, 305, 328, 341, 361, 376, 393, 405,
440, 457, 481, 905, 629, 553, 577, 601, 617, 649, 669,
696, 720.
"Solomon" of Lonely Pines, 169.
Spirit of Independenc-V. I'br, 27:1, 27 li.
Sponges, Two Fairy, 700, 701.
Sports and Amusements of African Natives — The African
Game of Hockey, 388 ; Natives Playing their Came
of Chess, 389 ; An African Elephant Trap, 412 ; A
Native Foot-race, 413.
St. Paul's Crews, The. 945.
St. Paul's, Garden City, Baseball Nine, 633.
St. Paul's School, 76, 77,
St. Valentine's Postage Stamps, 288.
STAMPS :— Uncle Sam as a Stamp- maker, 604, 60"i; sump
Perforatious, 630 ; St. imp Water-marks, 755, 851 ;
Secret Dress Stamps, 923 ; Stamps, 1023.
Stars, Studying the, 292, 293.
STATE PAPERS, GREAT: — 55, 268, 269, 436, 437.
Steamship Hunt. Joys of the, 549.
Stony Point, " Mad Anthony " Wayne at, 473.
STORIES OF AMERICAN LITERATURE: — Washington Irving,
532, 533 ; James Fenimore Cooper, (J52. 653 ; Na-
thaniel Hawthorne, 724, 725 ; Henry Wadsworlh
Longfellow, 940, 941.
Slmk Express, Limited, The, 92, 93, 124, 125.
Story of an Easter Egg, The, :i92
Sinn- of Noel Duval, The, 809.
Strange Adventures of Tommv Toddles. The, 128, 141,
172, 192, 208, 224, 240, 256, 272, 288, 304, 320.
Street-waifs Luck, A, 161.
Study iu Natural History, A, 856.
Studying the Stars, 292. 293.
Swimming Lesson, A, 832.
THANKSGIVING, The Young People's Share in, 45.
Thanksgiving at the Edsons', 61.
Thai Sleight of hand Performance, 704.
Thornton's Useless Study, 573.
Toucan Do, What, 856.
Treaty of Versailles, The, 55 ; The Japanese Treaty, 268 ;
The Muscat Treaty. 269.
Trick Bicycle-rider, The', and the Obstinate Bull dog, 616
Trolley Bike of 1900, The, 476.
Trolley-car, The lOlcctric, 1052, 1053.
Tumble-bug, Mr. and Mrs., 963-965.
Turkey Made of a Golden-rod Stalk, A, 72.
Turtle's Wish, The, 325.
Two Ambitious Cubs, 610.
Two Brave Men, 868.
Two Fairy Sponges, 700. 701.
Two Glances from the Elevated Railroad, 1072.
Two of a Kind, 736.
TYPICAL AMERICAN SCHOOLS : — St. Paul's. 76, 77; Groton
School, 188, 189 ; Andover, 484, 185.
U
UNCLE SAM as a Stamp-maker, 604, 605.
Uncle Silas's Encounter with the Evil One, 472.
Under the Castle's Guns, 113.
Unexpected Rescuers, 137.
Unexpected Result, An, 400.
United States Navy, The, at the Baltic Canal, 820, 821.
Untidy Jane, 176.
Useless Adventure, A, 177.
VALENTINES, Home made, 255.
"Valkyrie," 941.
Venelli's Violin, 385.
Very Wise Little Mouse, A, 192.
"Volcano, A Seemingly Extinct," 952.
W
WAKING Up of Cross Corners, The, 344.
War-fleet in Training, A, 988, 989.
War-ships Commanded by Admiral Gherardi Entering
New York Harbor, 13.
Water Life Around New York, 1036, 1037.
Watermelon Tide, The, 960.
Weigh, A Very Unsatisfactory, 1024.
Westbridge Burglar Alarm, The, 789.
Whale-boat. The .Modern, 728.
When Royalty Travels, 718, 749.
Whisk-holder, 239.
Why Bobby Didn't Get His Rocking horse. 112.
" Why don't your mudder do your wool up," 88.
Wicked Willie's Dream, 760.
With the Ski-runners, 329.
Worcester-Audover Games, The, 657.
YOUNG Beach-combers of Monmontb, The, 552.
Young People's Share in Thanksgiving, The, 45.
ZF.BEDEE, 61, 05.
PORTRAITS
ALPHONSOXIIL. King of Spain, 764, 765.
Baltazzi, S. A. W., 776.
Barker. N. W.. 513.
Beck, F. G., 634.
Krei-ki-nridge. Lucy H., 1005.
Church, V. S., 364.
Crisp, Charles F. , 596.
dishing, Lietenanl, 241.
Gherardi Rear-Admiral Bancroft, 12.
Hancock, Will, 950.
Ilni.-, A H . i'..->s.
H.. it. i<: t; . 6.-s.
I.aing. W. T., 513.
Lothrop, Margaret M., 1005.
Liilhrop, Mrs. D . Inil4.
Mann, Margaret I... liin.V
McKee children. The, 1004.
Miles, lii'iieral N- A. ,36.
Miinn.r Kirk, 143.
Syme. S A . H-J.Y
Ware. Leonard E. , 825.
Washington, George, frontal ;e
Washington, Mary, fiirmg |..i^. Ml.
Wiihelmina, Queen of Hollaud, 348.
GENERAL INDEX
ADMIRAL for a Night, An, 337.
Afloat With the Flag. 1, 22, 41, 58, 78, 94, 118, 129, 166, 182,
201, 218, 230. 244, 265, 281, 298.
Africa, South, A Delightful Morsel from, ,046.
African Natives, Sports and Amusements of, 398, 411.
AlasUan Indians, 782.
" Albemarle." The Blowing Up of the, 241.
Alexander the Great, The Son of, 785.
Alfonso XIII., King of Spain, 761.
Alps, A fiarrison On the Tops of the, 29.
Amateur Journalism, 950. !l!>8.
Ambuscade on Clover Hill, The, 314.
Andover School, 184.
Aquarium, A Boy's, 739.
Astronomy. (See "On the Earth and In the Sky.")
At the Brownie Play, 228.
At the Seaside, 907.
Aunt Selina's Mistake, 358, 377.
BADEN-BADEN, A Visit to, 926.
Badges, The Order's, 854.
Badges, What Shall Our, Be, 662.
Balle-et-Poteau, 926.
Barney, Joshua, U. S. N., 116.
Basket, A Novel, 86.
Battle of Now Orleans, The, 449.
Beautiful Kaleidoscope, A, 414.
Betty's Ride, 651.
Beverly Ghost, The, 731.
Bicycle, Development of the, 410.
Bicyclers, Some Don'ts for, 697.
BICYCLING:— 468, 492, 516, 540, 564, 589, 612,636, 660,
684 708 732, 756, 781, 804, 828. 852, 876, 900, 924,
948 972, 996, 1020, 1044. 1068. ]"'.<2
Bicycling— The Right and the Wrong of It. 915.
Bilberry School Exhibition. The, 1027.
Bill Tyiiee and the Bull, 646.
Birds. Some South-African, 614.
Blowing I'p of the Ironclad "Albemarle," The, 211.
Boat, A Shooting , How to Build a, 679.
Bob, and Bimber, and the Bear, 620.
INDEX
Vll
Bombardment of the Golden Gate, The, 1081.
Bonbon or Work Bos, 11.
Book, A Large, 368.
Book, The Building of a. 795.
Boot on the Other Leg, The, 369.
BOYS AND GIRLS AS KULKRS OF MEN : — Alfonso XIII.,
King of Spain. 764.
BOYS AND GIRLS op NEW YORK STREETS : — A Street- waifs
Luck, 101; Danny Cahill, Newsboy, 345 ; A Daugh-
ter of the Tenements, 527.
Boy's Aquarium, A, 739.
Boys' Work and Play, New York, 193.
Braddy's Brother, 833.
Brooklyn Bridge — Cobweb Lane, 786.
Brownie Play, At the, 228.
Budd Wilder's Judgment, 321.
car, 1052.
Bunkey, Monkey, and Jimmieboy, 350.
CAMERA CLUB, THE : — 462, 519, 534, 558, 583, 613, 637,
646, 686, 707, 726, 751, 783, 803, 822, 853, 877, 901,
925, 966, 991, 1021, 1045, 1095.
Camping Hints, Clever, 998.
Captain Billv, 73.
Cargo of Burning Coal, A, 929.
Carrier Pigeons, 931.
Case for Shaving papers, A Simple, 134.
Cat Show, The, 547.
Cat bout, A Racing, 891.
Cats and Dogs, A Hotel for, 308.
Celebrating the "Fourth " Abroad, 950.
Chapter Programmes, 1094.
Charge at Gettysburg, The. 645.
Charlemagne, The Son of, 839.
Chess-players, A Village of, 879.
Chickens and the Chicken-coop, 396.
Children of the American Revolution, The National So-
ciety of the, 1004.
Children's Dancing Classes, 301.
China's Marines, 270.
Chinese Crew, A, 571.
Chinese Enterprise, A, 499.
Chocolate Creams, 855.
Christmas Crank, A, 105.
Church, F. S., the Artist, 364.
Clever Retort, A, 191.
Coals of Fire, 430.
Cobweb Lane, 786.
Coins, A Few Notes About, 712.
College Yells and Colors, 518.
Conductor's Bird Story, The, 47.
Conquest of Santa Claus, The, 67.
Cooking school, A Girl's, Without a Fire, 277.
Cooper, James Feuimore. 652.
Coppertnu-u "Star" Route, The, 1001.
Corporal Fred, 737, 766, 790, 814, 836, 862, 889.
Costa Rican Country Life, 494.
Cranberry Bog, A, 15.
Crossbow, How to Make a, 267.
D
DANCING Classes, Children's, 301.
Danny Cahill, Newsboy, 346.
Daughter of the Tenements, A, 527.
Day in the Senate, 1:12.
Death of Stonewall Jackson, The, 521.
"Defender's" Launching. Seeing the, 758.
Demon of Snaggle-tooth Rock, The, 982.
Detective in Fiction and Reality, The, 348.
Development of the Bicycle, 410.
Diver's Story, The, 7.
Diving Island, A, 56.
Doctor, A Wise, 598.
Dog, The Talking, 336.
Dogs in Warfare, 568.
Dog's Passion for Dolls, 432.
Doilies for Christmas Presents, 44.
Dolls, The : A Drama in Pantomime, 97.
Don'ts for Bicyclers, Some, 997.
" Dorothy Q" Party, A, 259.
EARLY DAYS OF SUCCESSFUL MEN:— Admiral Gherardi,
12; General Miles, 36; The Artist — F. S. Church,
364.
East side Boy, The, and His Games, 1060.
Eggs for Easter, 383.
Electrical Machine. A Simple, 203.
Elephants, A Dainty for, 520.
F.nglish Eliza, 1073.
Enterprising Photographer, An, 598.
Envelope Photograph-frames, 223.
Escape of Three Girls, The, 316.
Every Man His Day, 309.
Exciting Game, An, 710.
FACETIJE:— 16, 54, 88, 112, 125, 127, 128, 143, 176, 191, 195,
224, 246, 256, 267, 272, 288, 304, 336, 352, 368, 384,
400, 416, 432, 448, 472, 496, 520, 544, 568, 591, 592,
616, 639, 640, 664, 712, 736, 760, 784, 808, 827, 832,
856, 904, 928, 947, 962, 995, 1000, 1018, 1024, 1048,
1072, 1096.
Fales's Oshia, 9, 17, 38.
Farm Life Varying. 494.
Fight in the Fog, A. 881.
Fighting the Elements, 865.
Fish Stories, Queer, 132.
Flag-bearer, The, 569.
Flora, Queen of Summer, 556.
Fly-catcher, A Novel, 995.
Forgotten Guns, The, 499.
Four Young Russian Heroes, 956.
Fourth of July, 688.
Free Entertainment in the Sahara, A, 1035
Fruits in Old Jamaica, 1070.
Furnace, A Visit to a Famous, 829.
GABE LOLAR'S Caribou, 209.
Gala Night, Suggestions for that, 734.
Game of the Ring, The. 1070.
Games, The East side Boy and His, 1060.
Garrison On the Top of the Alps, A, 29.
Gettysburg. The Charge at, 545.
Gherardi, Admiral, 12.
Ghostly Whaling-ground, A, 198.
Giant Boy, A, 335.
GIBSON, W. HAMILTON : — Green Pansies, 180 ; Mushroom
Spore-prints, 444 ; Two Fairy Sponges, 700 ; Mr.
and Mrs. Tumble-bug, 963.
Girl Who Comes to the City to Study Art, The, 330.
Girl's Cooking school Without a Fire, A, 277.
Giving Him a Chance, 31.
Gold and Silver from Ores, 902.
GRANDFATHER'S ADVENTURES :— The Baboon, 21; The
Wrecker's Lantern, 126 ; A Mutiny at Sea, 410 ;
As a Pirate, 813.
GREAT MEN'S SONS :— The Son of Alexander the Great,
785 ; The Son of Charlemagne, 839 ; The Son of
Luther, 869 ; The Son of Napoleon, 911 ; The Son
of Cromwell, 956 ; The Son of Shakespeare, 980.
GREAT STATE PAPERS:— Titles to Our Territory, 55 ; Our
Treaties and Who Made Them, 268 ; Certificates of
Liberty, 435 ; Our Laws and Proclamations, 628.
Green Pansies, 180.
Groton School, 188.
Guest of Two Nations, A, 353.
HAIR-PIN Box, A Dainty, 126.
Halloween Witches, The, 1071.
Hampton Roads, The Fight at, 497.
H;ni<ll)ull — A Game for Everybody, 367.
Han. 1 in-hand Skating, 253.
Harry Borden's Naval Monster, 1025.
Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 723.
Hearing, Some Curious Facts Concerning, 967.
Helen's Choice, 574.
HELPING HAND, THE : — 494, 566, 710, 734, 806, 854, 902,
975, 1022, 1046, 1094.
Herbarium, How to Make a, 774.
HEROES OF AMERICA : — The Battle of New Orleans, 439 ;
" Mad Anthony " Wayne at Stony Point, 473 ; The
Fight at Hampton Roads, 497"; The Death of
Stonewall Jackson, 521 ; The Charge at Gettys-
burg, 545 ; The Flag-bearer, 569.
Hints to Young Botanists, 846.
His Searching was Not in Vain, 838.
His Wheel Saved His Life, 867.
Home-made Valentines, 254.
Horse of the Sheik of the Mountain of Singing Sands,
The, 1064.
Hotel for Cats and Dogs, A, 308.
How a Boy Can Come to New York and Get a Situation,
1062.
How Domino Went Fishing, 48.
How Jack Lockett Won His Spurs, 713.
How Reddy Earned His Commission, 905, 934.
How to Make a Crossbow, 267.
How Tod Got Into the Halloween Games, 1091.
ICE, Artificial, 812.
Ice of New York Harbor, In the, 297.
In a Rabbit trap, 194.
In the Greenland Ice, 441.
In the Ice of New York Harbor, 297.
In the Strawberry Patch, 406.
Insect Factory, A National, 30.
INTERSCHOLASTIO SPORT : — 465, 489, 513, 537, 561, 585,
609, 633, 657, 681, 705, 729, 753, 777, 801, 825, 849,
873, 897, 921, 945, 969, 993, 1017, 1011, 1065, 1089.
Iron Plum, An, 496.
Irving, Washington, 532.
JACK'S Fox Hunt, 428.
Jack's Trick, 302.
Jamaica Sky Meeting, A, 1022.
Japan, From a Knight in, 1022.
Jeopardizing of the Easter Eggs. The, 399.
Jimmieboy and the Animals, 381.
Joan of Arc, 1039.
Joe Griffin's Great Jump, 397.
Joe's Scheme, 761.
John Kilburne's Fort, 742.
Joys of the Steamship Hunt, 548.
Jule's Garden, 333.
KALEIDOSCOPE, A Beautiful, 414.
King Arthur and His Knights. 584 ; The Sword, 607 ;
Arthur and the Knights, 020 ; The Final Trial,
655.
King Kalakau's Army, 1005.
KINKS : — (See ''Puzzles.")
Knave of Hearts, The, 673.
Knickerbocker Grays, 509.
LARGE Book, A, 368.
Largest Magnet in the World, The, 108.
Laws, Our, and Proclamations, 628.
Leyden Jar, The, 175.
Life in a Paris School, 252.
LIFE-BLOOD OF A GREAT CITY: — Getting Into and Out of
New York, 116; How New York Sees at Night, 371;
How New York Gets Its Water, 460.
Light-house, The, and the Mariner, 356 ; Life in a Light-
house, 644.
Literary Salad, 195.
Little Minute-man, The, 693.
Little Red Book, The, 81, 109, 121, 134, 172, 185, 205.
Locomotive, Building the, 311.
London Stone and Monument, 686.
Longfellow, Henry Wadswortb, 940.
Longmeadow Toll-gate, The, 401, 433.
Looming Falls Air-line Express, The, 225.
Lorelei of the Show bills, 289.
Luther, The Sou of, 869.
M
" MAD ANTHONY " WAYNE at Stony Point, 473.
Magnet, The Largest, in the World, 108.
Marble-mill, A Visit to a, 1070.
Marshmallow Paste and Candies, 879.
Mean Man, A, 742.
Messenger Boy's Adventure, 462.
Miles, General, 36.
Military Bicycle Corps' Outing, A, 860.
Military Signalling, 163.
Miniature Railroad System, A, 580.
Misplaced •' Fourth," A, 665.
Miss Appolina's Choice, 454, 477, 502.
Money, Queer, 752.
"Monitor" and "Merrimac," 497.
Monongahela, The Marvellous, 686.
Mr. and Mrs. Tumble bug, 963.
Mr. Gobbler's Story, 52.
Muuroe, Mr. Kirk, to the Round Table Order, 830.
Mushroom Spore-prints, 444.
Music: — The Conquest of Santa Claus, 68-71.
Music Rack, A Treat for the, 806 ; The Music Rack, 998.
Musical Genius, A, 259.
Mutiny at Sea, A, 410.
Mysterious Traveller, The, 14.
N
NAPOLEON, The Son of, 911.
National Insect Factory, A, 30.
NATURAL HISTORY: — Green Pansies, 180; Mushroom
Spore-prints, 444 ; Two Fairy Sponges, 700 ; Mr.
and Mrs. Tumble-bug, 963.
Nautical Fire-balloon, A, 625.
Naval Apprentices, All About, 926.
New Things That Are Old, 918.
NEW YORK CITY: — Getting Into and Out of New York,
116; Boys and Girls of New York Streets. lr,l;
New York Boys' Work and Play, 193; How New
York Sees at Night, 371 ; How New York Gets Ita
Water. 460.
"Newcomb," Directions for Playing, 1046.
Newspapers, A Collection of, 590.
Nocturnal Repulse, A, 257.
Notice, Important, 440.
Number 100, 622.
O
OAKLEIGH, 641, 670, 697, 721, 745, 769, 793, 817, 841, 857,
886, 913, 937, 961, 985, 1009, 1033, 1057, 1081.
Ocean Greyhound, Building the, 4.
Off with the Merboy, 446, 451, 476, 511, 535, 559.
"Old-fashioned Lawyer, The," 835.
On an Arizona Trail, 417.
On Board the Ark, 799, 823, 847, 871, 895, 919, 933, 967,
991, 1015.
ON THE EARTH AND IN THE SKY : — What We Know of
the Moon, 211 ; The Earth Yesterday, To day, To-
morrow, 844.
One Brave Boy Out of a Thousand, 474.
Outwitted by a Blind Beggar, 87.
Overheard in Bobby's Desk, 32.
Own Relation, An, 953.
PAPA'S Rod : A Christmas Play, 110.
Paris School, Life in a, 252.
Parsley Bed, A, 1059.
Patience Rawlins's Heroism, 221.
Perils of the Newfoundland Banks, 740.
Pets, Caring for Some of Our, 926.
Phillips Exeter Academy, The, 283.
Photographer, An Enterprising, 598.
Photograph-frames, Envelope, 223.
Photographic Prize Competition, Our, 974.
"Piece of Work, A," 1054.
Pigeons, Carrier, 931.
Pilot's Story, A, 862.
Hearts, 673 ; At the Seasi
Pleasant Disappointment, A, 599.
President's Cabinet, Tin-, 772.
PRIZE-STORY COMPETITION :— First-prize Story. 654 ; The
Awards, 662 ; Second-prize Story, 710 ; Third-
<
vui
" Professor Jim's " Christmas Dinner, 89.
Proper Use of a Shot-gun, The, 631.
PUDDING-STICK THE : —469, 493, 610, 615, 541, 567, 682,
606 6-27, 6IH, 683, 709, 727, 757, 774, 805, 823, 847,
871 8H4 919, 949, 966, 991, 1014, 1047, 1067. 1091.
PUZZLES -—470 518, 542, 666, 690, 638, 734, 758, 782, 806,
864, 903, 927, 974, 1022, 1070.
QUARREL in the Stamp album, A, 88.
Queen of Holland, The Young, 347.
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS : — 734, 758, 306, 829, 854, 878,
927, 974, 9118.
Quill-Pen, Esiiuire, Artist, 716.
Quoits in Warfare, 111.
RABBITS : Their Care, and How to Build Their Houses,
508.
Rabbit-trap. In a. 194.
Races. Some Novel, 971.
Railroad System, A Miniature, 580.
Rainbow Tea, A, 752.
Rainsford's (Dr. I Advice to Boys, 750.
Raleigh Reds, The, 689.
Raspberry and Cocoanut Creams, 995.
Red Devils' Rescue, The, 247.
Representatives, What Our, Do, 596.
Revengeful Whale, A, 486.
Rich Times, 759.
Right and the Wrong of It, The, 915.
Rival Mothers, The, 181.
Road Rangers, 145.
Robbers' Cave. A Visit to, 998.
Rome, A Fascinating Walk in, 566.
ROUND TABLE CHAPTERS :— 471, 542, 6615, 590, 614.
ROUND TABLE CORRESPONDENCE : — 471, 494, 566, 690, 614,
938, 662, 686, 711, 734.
ROUND TAULK MISCELLANY : — 542, 590.
Royalty Travels, Whon, 748.
Runaway Fin-back, A, 19.
Running the Cliinese Blockade, 383.
Russian Sled, A, 243.
SAMMY'S Wonderful Pop, 16.
Saved by a Carcass, 593.
"Scapegrace," 214.
SCHOOLS, TYPICAL AMERICAN :— 75, 191, 484.
Scrub Quarter back, The, 33.
'Scutney Mail, The, 233, 249, 261, 278, 294.
Sea Episode, A, 380.
Sea I.ion. An Astute, 875.
Sea Rangers, 977, 1006, 1030, 1049, 1077.
Sea-gull Dick, of Brenton's Reef, 330.
Senate, A Day in the, 132.
SERIALS: — "Afloat With the Flag" — "The Little Red
Book" — "The Strange Adventures of Tommy
Toddles"— "The 'Scutuey Mail "—" Off With the
INDEX
Slerboy" — "Snow-shoes and Sledges" — "Oak-
leigh"— "On Board the Ark"— "Sea Rangers."
Shah A Close View of the, 590.
Shakespeare, The Son of, 982.
Shakespeare Club, A Young People's, 414.
Shark catching in Mid-ocean, 1086.
Ship Without a Light, The, 523.
Shouting the Chute, 883.
Shuiiting-boat, How to Build a, 679.
Shot gun. The Proper Use of a. fiiil.
Signets, How to Find and Mount, 1076.
Skating, Hand in hand, 253.
Ski-runners, With the, 329.
Sled, A Russian, 243.
Snow-shoes and Sledges, 306, 326, 339, 361, 374, 393, 403,
437, 457, 481, 505, 529, 553, 576, 601, 617, 649, 667,
693J 718. -
" Solomon " of Lonely Pines, 169.
Some Don'ts for Swimmers, 582.
Some Things that Little Girls Can Make, 239.
Spirit of Independence, The, 273.
Sponges, Two Fairy, 700.
Sports and Amusements of African Natives, 398, 411.
St. Croix River, The Dallas of the, 686.
St. Paul's School, 75.
Stamp maker, Uncle Sam as a, 604.
STAMPS -—467, 495, 517, 543, 607, U30, 663, 687, 702, 735,
755, 779, 807, 827, 851, 875, 899, 923, 951, 973, 999,
1023, 1043, 1071, 1093.
Stars, Studying the, 291.
STATE PAPERS, GREAT :— 65, 268, 435.
Steamship Hunt, Joys of the, 548.
Stony Point, " Mad Anthony " Wayne at, 473.
Stories by Grandma, 880, 976.
STORIES OF AMERICAN LITERATURE:— Washington Irving,
532 • James Fenimore Cooper, 652 ; Nathaniel
Hawthorne, 723 ; Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,
940.
STORIES OF OUR GOVERNMENT:— A Day in the Senate, 132;
What Our Representatives Do, 596 ; The Presi-
dent's Cabinet, 773.
Stork Express, Limited, The, 92, 123.
Story of an Easter Egg, The, 390.
Story of Noel Duval, The, 809.
Strange Adventures of Tommy Toddles, The, 127, 143,
171, 191, 208, 223, 239, 255, 271, 287, 303, 319.
Street- waifs Luck, A, 161.
Studying the Stars, 291.
Submarine Dinner Party, A, 829.
Swimmers, Some Don'ts for, 682.
" TAILPIF.OE, " 766.
Talking Dog, The, 336.
Thanksgiving, The Young People's Share in, 45.
Thanksgiving at the Eilsons', 61.
Thanksgiving Turkey Made of a Golden-rod Stalk, A,
72.
That Sleight-of-hand Performance, 702.
Theatricals, Private, 26, 83.
Thornton's Useless Study, 572.
Toddlotums Has a Dream, 1014.
Tonies, The, 32, 47, 72.
Travelling Stones in Nevada, 823.
Treaties — Titles to Our Territory, 55 ; Our Treaties and
Who Made Them, 268.
Triple Somersault, Turning a, 526.
Trolley Bike of 1900, The, 476.
Trolley-car, The Electric, 1052.
Tumble-bug, Mr. and Mrs., 963.
Turning aTriple Somersault, 526.
Turtles, Fresh-water, The Care of, 662.
Turtle's Wish, The, 324.
Two Brave Men, 868.
Two Fairy Sponges, 700.
TYPICAL AMERICAN SCHOOLS:— St. Paul's, 75; Groton, 188;
Andover, 484.
U
UNCLE SAM as a Stamp maker, 604.
ruder the Castle's Guns, 113.
rnrxpected Rescuers, 137.
United States Navy at the Baltic Canal, The, 820.
Useless Adventure, A, 177.
VALENTINES, Home-made, 254.
Venelli's Violin, 385.
Vision of the King's Bad Eye, The, 366.
Visiting-cards, Some Strange, 971.
Von Bulow, More About, 831.
W
WAKING Up of Cross Corners, 342.
WANT CORNER :— 494, 518, 542, 566, 614, 638, 086, 1070.
War-fleet in Training, A, 988.
Water Colder than Ice, 243.
Water Life Around New York, 1035.
Watermelon Tide, The, 958.
Weather Indications, 774.
Westbridge Burglar Alarm, The, 788.
Whaling, Modern, 727.
When Royalty Travels, 748.
Who Knows Them f 87.
Winning a Watermelon, 742.
Wiser than a Wizard (Puzzle), 470.
With the Ski-runners, 3'29.
Wolves, Some Terrible Adventures Kith, 976.
" Word Hunt," The, 1046.
YACHT, The Racing, of To day, 942.
Young Beach-combers of Moumouth, The, 550.
Young People's Shakespeare Club, A, 414.
Young People's Share in Thanksgiving, The, 45.
Young Queen of Holland, The, 347.
ZEBEDEE, 64.
POETRY
AP;;IL Days, 415.
BALLAD of the "Constitution," A, 1012.
Bobby's Thanksgiving, 72.
Bells of Nine o'clock, The, 966.
Both Right, 364.
Butterfly Bows, 990.
CERTAIN Fairy, A, 367.
Change of Fortune, A, 451.
Changelings, 31.
Christmas Day. 123.
Clara's Christmas Tree, 131.
Cloth of Gold, 799.
DAY After, The, 187.
Delightful Custom, A, 390.
Do You Know Her ? 335.
FALLING Star, The, 218.
Flag. Our, 598.
Fluffy, 6.
Four Winds, The, 259.
Franklin. I'.riipmin, 314.
Friends. 1003.
Fnu and His Puzzle, 115.
GKAN1I3IA-LAND, 330.
HAPPY New Year, A, 175.
Hard to Understand, 1021.
Her First Sea View, 1076.
Hint, A, 499.
IF, 16.
In the Valley, 1059.
Its Meaning, 958.
JIMMIEBOY'S Letter to Santa Clans, 78.
John Cabot, 942.
June Flowers, 595.
KENNIBOT'S Circus, 1038.
LARGE Supply, A, 166.
Lazy Hour, The, 812.
Little Boy's Plan, A, 191.
Little Schoolma'am, The, 3.
MAGNIFICENT Scheme, A, 134.
May Be So, 918.
Memorial Day, 546.
Merriest Time, The, 462.
Mollie Rejoices, 236.
OLD Stage-coach, The. firm.
" On the Far-away Banks of the Nile," 32.
Our Flag, 598.
PARTNERSHIP Arrangement, A, 105*.
Priscilla, 766.
REUNION Song, 111.
SAD Slory of the Mouse, The, 883.
School-boy's Song of the School Walk, 607.
Snow-Flake, The, 87.
Song of the Anvil, The, 26.
Stewed Quaker, 867.
Story of Corn Bread and C'ows, A, 934.
Sure Cure, A, 286.
Sweetmeat Age, The, 742.
TROUBLESOME Child, A, 254.
Two Little April Fools, 383.
UNTIDY JANE, 176.
WEARY Wooden Soldier, The, 443.
Where the Trolls are Busy, 303.
Whippoorwill, 727.
YOUNG Fisherman's Suggestions, 47.
HARPE
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1894, by HARPKH & BROTHKKS. All Ri^lits
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 784.
XKW YORK, TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 6. 1894
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLI.AKS A YEAR.
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
CHAPTER I.
THE CAPTAIN'S SORROW.
CAPTAIN HIRAM LOCKWOOD sat gazing out of
the window of his unpretentious little parlor down
the hot and dusty street toward the glint of blue which
told where the swift tide of the North River flowed past.
The brown lines of tall masts running up and down the
shifting faces of the white clouds, and the yellow festoons
of canvas hanging from dark yards, made a picture that
might at anv other time have attracted his eager atten-
tion, but just now they were lost on him, hardy old mar-
iner that he was, and full of a real love for nautical pic-
tures afloat or ashore. His mind was far away, and
there was a tnist in his eyes that would not clear up
even when his daughter Minnie came and laid her gen-
tle arms about his neck and kissed him.
"Father dear," she said, "you must stop worrying
about Bob, or you'll be sick."
"My dear child," said the old mariner, "you can't
possibfy understand the way a man yearns over his own
llcsh and blood when it's gone astray."
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVL
'• But we don't know that Bob's gone astray, do we?'1
" Well, lie's left liis home without his father's consent,
child, and that isn't a good thing for any one to do at
any time or under any circumstances."
"But I'm sure he'll come back, father."
"But when, or how? Oh, the prodigal son is a very
fine fellow when he's sighted bearing down on his old
home, but he makes a heap of trouble while he's adrift."
"But, father, you must cheer up now. Here come
the boys."
Three stalwart young figures were seen advancing up
the street. They were young men about nineteen years
of age, and all were strong, active-looking fellows, with
bright eyes and sunburnt faces. They came along, keep-
ing exact step, with a free, swinging stride and well-
squared shoulders, which showed the results of sound
training somewhere. And, sure enough, these young-
fellows had just been through four years of the most sub-
stantial mental and physical education that can be ob-
tained in the United States, or, for the matter of that, in
all the world. They were naval cadets fresh from the
United States Naval Academy at Annapolis. One of
them, a dark youth, with a restless impatient expression
on his countenance, was Frank Lock wood, nephew of the
Captain. His father and mother had both died while he
was in his early days at the Academy, and now his uncle
Hiram was his guardian, and with him the boy made
his home. The boy walking in the middle had a face
that was full of free careless enjoyment as he glanced
right and left at the open windows of the houses. He
was George Briscomb, a classmate of Frank. The
third boy was more thoughtful in appearance than
the other two. though he was undoubtedly not so at-
tractive to look upon. His name was Harold King, and
he was also a classmate of Frank Lockwood. Both
these boys lived in the far West, and had decided to spend
part of their furlough in New York in order to see the
sights of the metropolis. At the same time they were
in hopes that they would speedily receive the orders,
which for some reason had been delayed, attaching them
to ships for the customary two years' cruise which all
naval cadets must make after completing their four years
at the Academy, and before coming up for final examin-
ation for the grade of Ensign. As they came up to
the house, they waved their hands to the Captain and
his daughter, and entered with laughter and gay words.
" Where have you boys been?" asked the Captain.
"Oh, off looking at the war-ships in the North River,"
replied Briscomb.
"You know there are a good many of the Columbian
review fleet still at anchor there," said Harold, "and I
think it is the duty of naval cadets to learn all they can
about them."
"Exactly my sentiments," said Frank, "only they
make a fellow feel sore about his own navy. Why,
that young Brazilian I met out there, Lieutenant Rod-
erigo Bennos, who showed me over the ship, simply
laughed at me when I told him I thought her not so
good as the New York. And the worst of it was he
converted me before he got through talking- to me. I
tell you, Uncle Hiram, a vessel that carries four 9-inch
guns in turrets with 18 inches of armor, and has a lot of
70-pounder Armstrongs to back them, is good enough for
me. I'd like nothing better than to go to war in the
Aquidaban."
All three boys suddenly stopped talking, and looked
furtively at the Captain, who was watching them ear-
nestly.
"You've been aboard the Brazilian battle-ship, boys?"
he said, gravely.
" Frank has, sir," said Harold.
" We didn't go because we thought we might be in his
way," added George.
"And you learned nothing, of course, Frank, or you
would have told me right away," said the Captain.
"No, Uncle Hiram," answered Frank, "I can't say
that I learned anything very definite."
"Very definite? Well, did you learn something in-
definite?"
"I hardly know," replied Frank. "The young Lieu-
tenant told me that there were two or three American
boys in the Brazilian navy."
" But you gave him some bearings on Bob, didn't you?"
asked the Captain, eagerly.
" Yes, Uncle Hiram, of course I did. All he could tell
me was that he had seen a young American with reddish-
brown hair and very dark eyes on board the Tamandare
just before he sailed north."
"That must be Bob!" exclaimed the Captain; "that
must be my boy."
"Wait a moment," said Harold. " How old was your
son Robert when he went to sea?"
"Ran away, my lad, ran away," replied the Captain.
" You may as well put the thing in plain English. I did
all a man could do to drive all notions of the sea out of
his head, and I did hope that, being brought up around
ships and among sailors, he would have seen enough of
the misery of the business to stay ashore. But he'd got
his hands in the tar-bucket, and I suppose he had to go.
Only, if he'd just have come to me and said, 'Father, I
can't stand it, and I've got to go to sea,' why, I'd have
sent him, though I reckon it would have made me feel
pretty bad, too. But to have him just pack up his dun-
nage and walk off without a minute's warning, or as
much as saying good-by, well, it's pretty hard, that's
what it is — pretty hard."
"Yes, sir," said Hal, "it is hard, and you have our
sympathy, I can assure you."
"Thank ye, heartily," answered the Captain.
"But you haven't answered my question yet," con-
tinued Harold.
"How old was he when he went away? He was just
fifteen years old, my lad."
" And he's been gone two years?"
" Two years the Fourth o' July."
"Frank, did Mr. Bennos give you any idea how old
the boy was that he saw on the Tamandaref"
" Well, he said he was a big strapping fellow, and had
a small mustache."
The Captain's countenance became gloomier than ever.
"That couldn't be Bob," he said, shaking his head; "you
know he was small for his age, Frank."
"But he might have grown, mightn't he?" asked George.
" Sometimes fellows shoot up in a most surprising way.
Why, there's Hal. He was a regular sawed-off a year
and a half ago, and now look at him — five feet eleven,
and still growing."
"But what, makes you feel so sure that your son is in
Brazil >" asked Harold.
"Why, when I made inquiries about him after Jie'd
gone," answered the Captain, " I found out that a boy
answering his description had shipped on a schooner
bound for the Windward Isles. When she came back,
In' wasn't on her, but her Captain, from what I told him,
was certain that he'd had my boy in his crew. And I'll
go so far as to say that he told me Bob was going to make
a good sailor. Well, the worst of it was that the boy ran
away from the schooner down there, and I sent my
schooner, the Mary Lockwood, down to hunt him up.
We learned that he'd shipped on a schooner bound
for Barbadoes. I've been a-tracking him in one way or
another ever since, but I lost all trace of him three months
ago in Bahia. I couldn't get anything except a sort of a
rumor about him there, and it pointed toward Rio. I
suppose the end of it '11 be that I'll have to go down there
myself."
NOVEMBER 6, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
"I think it would be the best thing you could do,
father," said Minnie, who had just entered the room.
"I don't know, I'm sure," said the Captain, relapsing
into silence.
" It wouldn't take a great deal," said Frank, " to in-
duce me to resign from the service, and ship on the
Aquidaban in the hope of finding my cousin Bob."
"Why, Frank!" exclaimed Hal, ''you're talking non-
sense!"
"Why couldn't we all three go to search for him?''
cried George.
CHAPTER II.
ORDERS THAT MUST BE OBEYED.
GEORGE'S speech was received with the sudden silence
of astonishment. After a few moments had passed away,
during which time all seemed to be lost in reflection, the
Captain raised his head and said,
"My young friend, I don't think I quite see the bear-
ing of that last remark of yours."
" And I must admit," added King, " that I don't quite
understand your idea either, Georgie. Are you quite
sure you understand it yourself?"
"Now just hold on a minute," said George; " perhaps
I did blurt it out a bit hastily, without quite reflecting,
but all the same I know what I mean. Give me a min-
ute or two to think it out."
They all sat and watched him gravely while he en-
deavored to ''think it out." Finally he said: .
"This is what I mean: Here are Harold and I, two
classmates and close friends of Frank Lockwood. Now
his cousin runs away to sea, leaving a great sorrow be-
hind him. What I say is that it is our first duty, as the
friends of Frank Lockwood, to join with him in the search
for the missing Robert."
" But, my boy," said Captain Lockwood, who was evi-
dently much moved by George's earnestness, " aren't you
going to tli ink of your own future?"
"How do you mean, sir?"
" Why, if you're going off to hunt for my boy Bob,
how about your duty as a naval cadet?"
" But I think we could get leave of absence for two or
three months, sir. They don't seem to be in any hurry
at Washington to attach us to any ships."
"And if we could get leave," said Harold, "what
then?"
"Why, we'd sail in one of Captain Lock wood's vessels
for Rio Janeiro, and begin the search there. You needn't
look at me so doubtfully, Hal. I mean just what I say."
"' I know you do, George, and my heart is with you in
this plan, but I am trying to examine it all round, to see
how we can carry it out."
"Captain Lockwood," said George, "if we can all
three get leave of absence, will you furnish us with the
ship?"
" That I will not," said the Captain.
The boys looked at him in astonishment.
" Don't you approve of my plan?" said George.
"No, I do not," answered the Captain. "And if I
did, I shouldn't start you down on a sailing-craft. Why,
you might take up the whole of your leave in reaching
Rio. If I approved of your plan, I'd buy you tickets
there and back by one of the mail-steamers. But, as I
said before, I don't approve."
" Why, Uncle Hiram?" asked Frank. "Don't you
think we can find Robert?"
"I don't know," said the Captain. "To tell you the
truth, though, I more than half believe that three such
bright smart fellows would do it."
"Then why won't you let us try?"
"Because," replied the Captain, " I can't consent to
seeing you three boys take a step that might get the
authorities In the Navy Department down 011 you, and
spoil your whole future. You take my advice, and don't
you go to doing anything so foolish as to ask for leave
of absence right at the beginning of your service. It'll
hurt you."
The three boys were silent for several minutes, and
all of them looked very thoughtful. At length Harold
arose, and said,
"Fellows, you want to find the Captain's son for him
if it can be done, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Well, will you shake hands with me that we'll all
three go to South America to hunt for him, provided it
can be done without asking for leave of absence?"
"Certainly."
"Then what's to prevent us from making application
to the department to be attached to one of the vessels on
the South Atlantic station? That'll take us right into
Rio, and once there, we can easily get ashore and start
the search."
"Hurrah!" cried George. " Hal, you have a big
brain. And wasn't I stupid not to think of that?"
"This plan will not call out your disapproval, will it,
Captain?" said Hal.
"No, indeed, my lad," answered the Captain, heartily.
"I can't tell you how grateful I am to you two boys for
your friendship to Frank and me. If you find my bov,
the good Father of us all will surely reward you."
"Now, fellows," said Harold, "let us shake hands
on it.''
Just at that moment Minnie, who had left the room,
returned with two long envelopes in her hand. "Two
letters," she said; "one for Harold and one for George."
A single glance at the envelopes told the boys what to
expect.
"Orders!" exclaimed George.
" It is too late for us to make application now," said
Harold.
"Perhaps we sha'n't need to," exclaimed George,
tearing open his envelope. "Let us see where we are
ordered to."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE LITTLE SCHOOLMA'AM.
SIT.AK of queeu aud empress,
Or of other ladies royal,
Not one of them lias half the power
Or subjects half so loyal
As she, the little schooluia'ani,
Who trips along the way
Ti> take the chair she makes a throne
At iiiue o'clock each day.
Her rule is ever gentle ;
Her tones are low and sweet ;
She is very trim aud tidy
From her head unto her feet.
And it matters very little
If her eyes be brown or blue ;
They simply read your inmost heart
Whene'er she looks at you.
The children bring her presents,
Red apples, flowers galore,
For all tin- merry girls and hoys
This queen of theirs adore.
The. darling little schoolma'am,
Who reigns without a peer
In a hundred thousand class-rooms
This gayly Hying year.
MAIKIAKKT K. SAN<
THE BUILDING OF MODERN WONDERS.
THE OCEAN GREYHOUND.
OVER in Philadelphia will be launched November 10th
a steamship, which popularly has been called the
"first American Ocean Greyhound." The event is
of international importance, for far-seeing men say that
it means that this country is again to take its former
high place as a power on the sea. I suppose there is no
one of intelligence in this country who lias not read, or
does not know, that practically in the first half of this
century the United States was in the front rank in sea-
going commerce, next to England alone in the number of
ships, but far ahead of England and every other nation
in the quality of these vessels. Then came the civil war,
and with it iron ships, and the American flag disappeared
from the ocean as if it had been wiped out by some power
of tremendous magic. Except for suppling the coast-
wise trade and placing four ships on a line from Phila-
delphia to Liverpool, this country ceased practically to
build ships.
Then the new navy came into existence, and the world
saw that the United States not only had not forgotten
how to build ships, but that in quality this country could
still surpass the world. Large ship-building plants were
developed in this way, and it was seen that the time for
the restoration of the American flag to the high seas had
come. The Inman steamship line, operated under the
English flag, was really owned by Americans, and at last
Congress gave permission to the owners of that line to
raise the flag of this country on two of its vessels, the
New York and Paris, at that time two of the fastest ships
yet built. Raising the flag on these ships meant that
they were imported into this country free of duty, a most
unusual exception to the law of the land; but it was to be
BENDING A PLATE
on one most important condition — that the owners should
cause to be built in this country at least two ships of
equal quality.
That is the way we came to build this new greyhound,
the St. Louis, which is just being launched, and the St.
Paul, which is soon to follow the St. Louis. These ves-
sels are larger than the Paris and New York, and of
course are expected to be faster, but they will not equal
the Campania or Lucania. They are to be the prede-
cessors, however, of two other ships, which, it is expected,
will not only surpass anything afloat, but will be un-
beatable. Indeed, Mr. Cramp, the head of the great ship-
building company in Philadelphia, has said of these two
forth-coming vessels, " They will not shrink from a,ny
comparison or competition."
Thus we see how important an event the launch of the
St. Louis is. To build a vessel such as this requires
two years of most skilful and delicate work. As Mr.
Cramp said, these "ships are American from truck to
keelson. No foreign materials enter into their construc-
tion. They are of American model and design, of Amer-
ican material, and they are being built by American skill
and muscle." He might have added that they are almost
exclusively products of the State of Pennsylvania.
In building a steamship there are two great depart-
ments. One has to do with the machinery, and the other
has to do with the hull in which the machinery is placed.
The first thing that is done is to prepare a "scheme."
The owners and the builders talk over the matter of size,
speed, space for passengers of various kinds, and space
for freight. Rough sketches are drawn, this and that
matter compromised, and finally a rough estimate of the
cost is made. Then " general drawings"
are made, which include a cross-sec-
tion, a longitudinal section, and a wa-
ter-line plan. These being acceptable,
the contract is made and work begins
in earnest.
The first thing is to prepare a model.
This is the most important work of all,
for it is the ship in miniature. Appar-
ently it is only half a model, for it
shows only half of the hull. It is as if
you had cut the ship exactly in half
from stem to stern, and kept only one
half. Most delicate calculation is made
in this model. The most complex
mathematics are used, and with exceed-
ing care every part of the model is
shaped. Beginning at the centre, the
depth and width are fixed, and then the
vessel slopes away to bow and stern in
curving lines. The first requisite is to
secure a stable ship. English designers
pay little attention to this, for if a vessel
is top-heavy they load a lot of water in
its bottom to make it sit low in the wa-
ter, so that it can't tip over. Mr. Cramp
thinks this is a bad practice. He doesn't
believe in carrying ton after ton of wa-
ter across the ocean, when this room
might be used for freight. Nor does he
think that the safety of passengers and
cargo ought to be at the mercy, as he
s:iys, of some "tipsy tank - trimmer."
Therefore Mr. Cramp made sure first
that the St. Louis would be stable, so
that, almost no matter what accident
NOVEMBER 6, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
->-".
AT WORK ON THE MODEL.
might befall the vessel, it would float. The reason why
only one-half the ship is modelled is because the other
half must correspond exactly to it, to prevent it from
being lop-sided, and the best way to make sure of that
is to reverse the plans for one side, and thus make the
plans for the other side.
The model prepared, the next thing is to "lay down"
the ship in the mould loft. This loft is a long rectangu-
lar building, with a spare black floor that may be lifted
out in sections. This
extra floor is called a
" scrive - board." On
it are marked chalk
squares at intervals of
every thirty inches, and
what is called a "base-
line " runs along its en-
tire length on one side
of the building. This
line represents where
the vessel is cut in two
from bow to stern. Now
for nearly nine months
the men in that mould
loft will be drawing
white chalk lines on
that detachable floor.
These lines are mostly
in beautiful curves, and
as you stand and look
at them they are the
most confusing things
you ever saw. The
chief moulder will take
you from place to place
in the loft, and in the
most matter-of-fact way
will tell you that here
is the body plan, there
is the bow, and there
is the stern, and that
looking at these lines on
the floor you can see the
entire ship just as if it
stood up right in that place before your
eyes. He can see it that way. no doubt,
but I own that it has taken me several
days before I could see even part of a
vessel lying there. Lines upon lines go
curving here and there, and in one place
you see them all drawn in, like the
webbing on a balloon, to one vertical
line, and you can easily imagine that
this represents the stern of the vessel.
You can also see the bow after long
study, but the " longitudinal sections"
and the "diagonals," which are lines
made simply to test the accuracy of the
drawings, are so plentiful and complex
as to mix you up. Well, the result of
all this drawing on the floor is that ev-
ery frame used in the ship, every plate
that is put on the outside, every beam
and deck support, as well as every deck,
is marked out on that board, and fash-
ioned from this little half-model which
I have described. The measurements
of that half boat are placed on the floor
in full size. If you are an expert at it
you can see, as you look at the floor,
how every frame would lie if it had
been placed erect in this building, and
had been allowed, for example, to fall
forward flat on the floor. You can see how the sides
of the ship, those long strips that run from bow to
stern, and which are called "strakes," would look if
they fell in and were flattened on the floor. In-
deed, the whole ship lies there, theoretically, as if some
giant had come along and crushed it to the floor, so that
only the outlines of frames and plates, supports, and all
kinds of sections, remained. This describes a mould loft
as I have been able to see it after almost a dozen close
SHAPING A STEEL RIB ON THE CHECKER-BOARD.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
inspections, and here it is tbat the hull is really fash-
ioned.
Now comes the real work on the actual hull. The
sections of these liscrive-boards " are taken down stairs;
wooden patterns of every frame and plate are made and
bent so as to conform to the curves exactly. Then the
frames, each marked and labelled, are taken to a " bend-
ing -table," where the iron and steel counterparts are
made. This bend ing-table looks like a monster checker-
board. It is of iron, and full of square holes for the
black spaces on the checker- board. At one side are
three or four long furnaces. They look like long tree-
boxes. Bright fires are under them, and inside are
placed the frames and plates which ai-e to be bent. The
pattern is brought in, and a chalk line drawn across this
checker-board, and then pegs with round tops and square
pins beneath them are fitted along these chalk lines, and
held in place by bent irons that look like the old-time
freight coupling-irons bent out of shape. These irons
are called "dogs," but I can assure you they are sorry-
looking specimens.
Strong workmen stand about with sledges, and finally
one of them pulls his cap down over his eyes, takes a
long pair of tongs with him, and goes to the door of the
furnace, which has been pulled up, thrusts the tongs
in, and catches hold of the plate or frame, which has
come from the iron -mill flat and straight. The men
catch hold of a rope attached to the tongs, and they
drag the red-hot fish they have caught out on the
checker-board, and they pin it down with more '"dogs,"
and by vigorous pounding bend it up against the curved
pegs, and make it exactly the shape of the wooden pat-
tern by the time it gets cold. Then the pattern is re-
versed on the checker-board, chalked out, and a reverse
frame or plate for the other side of the ship is made.
Thus bit by bit the hull of the ship is made, and is now
ready to be put together.
In erecting a ship a lot of preparatory work is neces-
sary. The blocks for launching (strange one would
think at first) must be laid down first. They are about
three feet apart, and rise higher and higher, so as to give
the ship a proper grade for gliding into the water.
Then a stout steel keel is placed on them. This is the
backbone of the ship. The two frames for the centre of
the vessel are brought out, and with extreme care are
placed in position, and then the other frames follow fore
and al'i. and the outside plates are .riveted on with
much hammering, and a noise that resembles a regiment
of soldiers tiring rapidly in some skirmish. The interior
braces are placed in position, deck frame after deck frame
goes in, and in about a year the ship is ready for launch-
ing. Wood-work by the mile is being placed on board
and finished up, and a regiment of draughtsmen are
kept busy preparing plans.
While all this is going on, the engines are being- made
in other shops. There are big frames in which they sit
and do their work, there are cylinders and shafts, con-
densers and pumps, to be made and planned for; Wrights
are to be adjusted, and strains and pressures are to be
provided for; castings must be made, boilers riveted to-
gether, rough edges must be planed, and enormous cranes
and other big tools must be- used to make two of these
engines for our twin screwed merchantman. There must
be an engine to each screw, and as the pistons churn up
and down they turn a shaft which makes the screw on
the side of the ship near the stern go around and push
the ship forward. After the engines are built they art-
erected first in the machine shop, and then part by part
are placed and fitted in the ship, some before launching*
and some afterwards. The vessel is launched with a good
deal of ceremony. The machinists, wood-workers, up-
holsterers, riggers, come and go, and about two years
from the time that the lines were laid down in the mould
loft the ship is completed. In round numbers from 4000
to 5000 men have worked on it in one way or another.
This in a general way tells how the St. Louis was
built. If it were a naval vessel every inch would be open
to the inspection of the public. As it is a private con-
tract, and as there is great competition in the ocean-grey-
hound business, the owners and contractors reserve for
themselves the secrets of the ship, except in certain par-
ticulars, such as general dimensions. This much may be
said: The St. Louis has a tonnage of about 11,000, about
500 more than the Neic York and Paris ; is 536 feet long
on the water-line, 10 feet more than the New York or
Paris; is 63 feet broad, or the same width as those two
ships; and has a capacity for 1420 passengers— 320 of the
first class, 200 of the second class, and 900 of the third
class. The cost, of course, the owners do not care to
give, but it is safe to say that it is somewhere about
&2, 000, 000. The speed, by government requirements,
must be twenty knots an hour, for the ship must be of
the first class, and that class requires that speed. Those
who have watched the work of the Cramps in building
naval vessels know that there will be no trouble about
speed, and it is safe to say that the St. Louis and St. Paul
will beat the New York and Paris handsomely.
A very great advantage to this country in the construc-
tion of these ships is that in time of war they may be
used as cruisers, and thus add immensely to our naval
strength. These two ships are to be followed by two
others, however, which undoubtedly will be the pride of
the American nation. Although I confess that I know
something' about these ships, I must not at present say
much about them. They will give our English friends
much uneasiness, I imagine, for soon our neighbors will
realize that at last the United States is to enter into com-
petition with Great Britain in the field where she is most
sensitive — that of ocean-going commerce. I do not know
that I can better close this article than by quoting what
Mr. Cramp has said on this subject:
" The work we have in hand is only the beginning.
It is a pretty fair start, but if they (the English) should
ask you what the future has in store, you may tell them.
in the words of our Paul Jones, on a certain occasion
well remembered by Englishmen, that ' we are just be-
ginning to fight."1 A. F. M.
FLUFFY.
BY JULIET WILBOR TOMPKINS.
HE came across from China
In a lovely White Star liner,
And you ought to bear the name that doggie brought.
But 'twould take too long to tell it,
And, besides, I couldn't spell it,
So suppose wo call him Fluffy just for short.
He'd the sweetest disposition,
And he lilced his new position,
And our funny, busy laud across the seas;
Finding' dogs of every nation
Standing round him at the station.
He addressed them in bis very best Chiuese.
But they growled, and seemed to hate him,
For they couldn't one translate him.
And lie found himself in quite a dreadful row;
Till his mistress came and caught him,
And most patiently she taught him
How to talk the real American bow-wow.
The language wasn't easy,
And his phrases are Chinesey,
While a slightly foreign accent still prevails;
But lie's paid for all his labors
By the friendship of his neighbors,
For they smile at him and wag their little tails
NOVEMBER 6, 1S94.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
THE DIVER'S STORY.
BY ALBERT LEE.
•' 1T7HEN I was a diver," began the BoVn, knocking
T * the ashes off his pipe, and without any introduc-
tion or preliminary cough to attract the boys' attention
— "when I was a diver —
"But you never to'd us you had been a diver," ex-
claimed the Little Boy from Across the Street, laying aside
a very badly tangled fish-line and glancing up at the old
man iu a suspicious manner. The other two boys, who
had likewise been preparing for the morrow's fishing ex-
pedition, dropped their hooks and tackle, and came over
from the rear end of the boat-house to the doorway, where
the Bo's'n sat smoking his pipe.
" Did you say you had been a diver?" asked Eric, who
could tell from the way the old salt had crossed his legs
and was gazing into the bowl of his pipe that he was
preparing to tell a story. The Bo's'n always seemed to
draw his inspiration from the glowing bowl of his black
clay.
" That schooner there made me think of it," he an-
swered, and the boys glanced seaward and saw a weather-
worn old two-master beating her way slowly down the
channel toward the light-house. They looked from
the schooner to their old sailor friend in a questioning
way.
" I noticed her name as she passed by," he said. "She's
the Latona, of Bath. I came pretty near ending my
days in the hold of the wrecked steamship Lodona, of
New Orleans, about twenty-five year ago," and he puffed
at his pipe, and looked earnestly into the red eye of the
bowl as if he could read there the events of a quarter of
a century ago.
'' But you never told us you had been a diver," repeated
the Little Boy from Across the Street, and he looked
inquiringly toward Eric and his brother, to see if they
had ever had this mysterious fact confided to them. But
they shook their heads, and quickly turned their atten-
tion to the Bo's'n again.
"There's many a thing I haven't told you," said the
latter; "but this story of the Lodona isn't long, and I
guess I can spin you the yarn before the schooner there
gets around the point."
The three boys sat down on the bottom of the old boat
and prepared to give their undivided attention.
" It was after the war had been over some ten year,
and I'd been out of the navy some eight year," the old
fellow began, meditatively. "I'd been trading in South
Africa, as I told you about, but I got tired of that, and
finally came home and went into partnership with my
brother down in Maine. He was a diver, and had a
couple of wrecking-tugs, and did a good business. I
learned how to dive, and after a while I got so I was
pretty good at it,. I liked the excitement and the dan-
gers of tne work. I was a young man then, and
willing to take foolish risks. Well, one day I heard
that the steamer Lodona, bound from New Orleans to
New York, had struck on a reef about seventy-five miles
southeast of Jacksonville, and had gone to the bottom
with all on board. She had a valuable cargo inside of
her, among other things half a dozen Gatling-guns that
belonged to the government. I negotiated with the in-
surance people to recover the cargo, a^nd secured the con-
tract; but I was foolish enough to leave my own wreck-
ing-vessel and crew at home, depending on getting a boat
and capable men at Jacksonville. But when I got down
there I found that the only craft I could hire was one of
those light schooners used in the sponging business, which,
with a little pirating, was the only means of subsistence
the crew had, I guess. They were the most ignorant set
of men I ever had dealings with; some were white and
some were negroes, and I guess they were all related by
birth or by marriage. They were lazy and brutal, but, as
I could not do any better, I had to employ them.
"When we got to the reef where the Lodona had gone
down I made a preliminary examination, and found that
the bow was well under water, as well as the hatches for-
ward and amidships. The after-hatch was partly sub-
merged at high tide, but I found I could get into the hold
by that way, and so I rigged up my pumps on the stern
of the vessel, and the next morning made my first descent
into the ship.
" I was distrustful of my crew, and made shorter dives
than I would ordinarily; but although there was no dis-
cipline, and the captain seemed to have no more authority
than any of his men, they kept at work, and hauled out
the boxes and barrels as fast as I sent up the signals from
below.
"I had found out from the shippers that the Gatling-
guns were stowed away pretty well forward, and I made
up my mind that the easiest and quickest way to get at
them would be to make a passageway through the rest
of the cargo by removing the boxes and barrels that lay
between the after-hatch and the guns. The cargo con-
sisted of molasses, sugar, linseed oil, spirits, silks, dress-
goods and such things, and as fast as I would loosen a
box or barrel I would make it fast to the tackle, and the
men would pull it up on deck and send it ashore in the
row-boat.
" Along in the afternoon of Ihe third day I went down
for my last dive, and calculated that a couple of hours'
work would bring me pretty close to the Gatling-guns.
I had been sending up boxes and barrels for an hour or
so, and was bending over a big case, when suddenly I felt
my air and signal lines moving without any apparent
cause. I turned around to see what the trouble was. and
found my way back completely barred. A big box, that
had liecome loosened from having the heavy things on
top of it removed, had floated to the roof of the deck. A
moment before I had walked over it, and now it blocked'
my way. I tried to move it, but I might as well have
tried to move the steamer. I tried to make a passage
around it, but I could barely get my arm between the
box and the rest of the cargo. Fortunately my air line
had slipped off the top of the box as it rose, and lay along
the side, or it would surely have been caught and crushed
between the case and the deck.
"The horror of my situation grew upon me as I thought
of the ignorant brutes at the air-pumps and the windlass
on deck. I had no telephone, as divers have nowadays,
and there was nothing in the signal-code to explain my
situation. Even if there had been, it is doubtful if the
crew would have understood. It seemed to me that I
was imprisoned in that dark watery hold with no hope of
escape. I made up my mind that tny time had come.
I knew that when the men began to pull, as they doubt-
less soon would, and felt the resistance, they would work
the windlass all the harder, and snap both lines. Then I
would drown in my prison.
"I felt in my belt for my sheath-knife, but it had be-
come loosened, and the wooden handle had let it float off
above me. I knew it must be hanging somewhere about
me, and I shuddered at the possibility of my air-tube ruli-
bing against its keen edge. Then I looked for the little
iron crowbar I had used in dislodging the bales and
boxes, and I remembered I had left that on the other side
of the big box which was now shutting me off from life
and liberty. For half an hour or more I must have given
myself up to the inaction of despair. Then I pulled my
self together and tried to settle my nerves and to re
out the situation. I knew reason could not move the
box, but it might furnish some suggestion that I could
act on. And sure enough it did. I reasoned it out that
the cause of the box floating- up as it did must, be because
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
NO SOUND WAS EVER SWEETER TO ANY MAN.
it was full of air. The box must contain silks, packed
in tin or zinc so as to be air-tight. Then I figured that
if I could only break into the zinc lining and let the air
out, the box would sink, and I could escape over it. But
how could I pierce the boards and metal of this box with-
out any knife or crowbar? I could not tear it apart with
my finger nails. My little prison was so narrow and
cramped, too, that I could hardly move about to search
for a weapon. And all this while time must be passing
rapidly. I had no idea how long I had been imprisoned,
and I feared every moment the crew would stop pumping
to me. Several times the air current weakened, and I
thought my end had come at last.
"Finally, in feeling around, my fingers met with the
iron binding of the case. I tore fiercely at this thin
strip, and struggled with the sense of desperation down
there in the darkness until gradually I felt it loosen. For
an hour, I suppose, I tugged at it before I got my fingers
between the iron band and the box, and then I tore it
away and broke off a piece about a foot
long. Using this scrap as a saw, I at-
tacked one edge of the big box, hewing
and sawing -with all my strength. For
four mortal hours I worked, and I thought
I should never pierce the thick zinc lin-
ing inside that box. But at last I made
a hole, and I heard the air come bub-
bling out of my prison door. No sound
was ever sweeter to any man !
" The box sank slowly, and I aided it
by pushing down on it, and as soon as I
could I climbed over it and fell down
on the other side almost tired out, but
with strength enough left to grope my
way back to the after-hatch.
"The danger that I had dreaded most
while imprisoned in the hold was that
the men would grow impatient at my
long absence, and begin to work the
windlass to pull me up. My surprise
was that they did not do this, but con-
tinued pumping. I knew that it must
be late in the night.
" As my head emerged above the hatch
I felt myself jerked up on the deck, and
my helmet hastily removed. I looked
up at the bright stars of heaven, and
drew in a long breath. Then I looked
around the deck, and saw why my men
had not tried to pull me out of the hold.
They were every one of them asleep ex-
cept, the old negro, who now stood at
my side, and who had been steadily
pumping air to me for almost ten hours.
"He explained to me that at supper-
time the men had decided to stop work,
since they had not heard anything from
me for two hours. They concluded I
was drowned, and said there was no use
in pumping air to a dead man. They
did not even think it was worth while
to pull my body up out of the hold;
and I am grateful to them for that! But
the old negro insisted that I was not
dead, and said he was going to keep on
pumping, anyhow. The others made all
sorts of fun of him. They cooked their
supper, and refused to give any to the
negro, who still refused to leave the
pump even for a moment.
" ' I didn't forget, Cap'n,' he said to me,
' dat you done give me money to help
cure my wife 'fore we left Jacksonville.'
" When he had finished telling me this story he rolled
up his sleeves, and after drinking all the cold coffee there
was left in the can, he went over to where the crew were
sleeping, and threw every one of them into the water be-
fore they could wake up and defend themselves. There
was the biggest row on that wreck I ever saw. The crew
were floundering in the water, and the negro on deck was
shouting about revenge. As each man tried to climb on
board again, the negro would kick him back into the wa-
ter. Finally I had to interfere, and when the crew got
on deck I was forced to draw my revolver to keep them
from killing my life-saver.
" With such a lot of brutes as that I decided that I did
not care to dive into the Lodona any more. So I loaded
the schooner with what little I had saved, and made for
Jacksonville."
The three boys kicked their feet against the sides of the
upturned boat for a few moments, without saying any-
thing.
FALES'S OSHIA.
BY EVA WILDER McGLASSON.
CHAPTER I.
BROTHER AMOS GRAY had an excited and anxious
air about him as he went up the steps of West
House. When he laid hold of the door-knob, however,
he fetched up rather short, and stood knotting his lean
upper lip in a meditative sort of way. In point of fact.
he was arranging in neat phrases the news he was carry-
ing to the Eldress. And as he did so lie gazed with an
unseeing eye upon the smooth summer fields, rippling up
to the very feet of the Shaker settlement. The road lay
hard and white before him. Across it rose the meeting-
house, white, stiff, plain, with windows so closely shut-
tered as to give it an effect of blindness. Other Shaker
buildings rose big and stolid on the view. Nothing
looked very cheerful except the breezy greenness of the
trees and grass, the melting blue of the sky, one ancient
rose-bush blushing against a wall hard by the church,
and the broom shop over the way. The broom shop al-
ways looked worldly and comfortable. It was a low red
house, about the sides of which a number of brooms were at
present drying. As they stood in a row, lounging against
the warm bricks, they resembled a lot of yellow-headed
rascals lazily taking the sun and winking off good cheer
to passers in the road.
Brother Lief Liefson, the broom-maker, stood in the
door of the shop, chewing a wisp of straw, and regarding
a great chrome-colored heap of broom stuff which rose at
his gate and clashed back the sunshine like a cymbal.
He was a placid-looking old soul, was Brother Lief Lief-
son; and as Amos Gray's abstracted glance took in the
aspect of his fellow in the Shaker faith, he gave an actual
start. For the mild contentment of Lief's visage, as he
stood nibbling at his straw and blinking at the morning
brightness, suddenly recalled Amos with a strong sense
of comparison to the scene he had just left — a dark, mean
room, a dying man, and a weeping little girl, ragged,
with scared face and a heap of curling red hair — a little
girl who clutched the hand of the figure on the poor cot
and screamed out: "Pappy! I'm here! yourOshia! Don't
ye leave me — don't ye ! I aims to be good. I won't
walk the boom -logs no more, nor go fish in'. Pappy!
pappy !"
Amos caught his breath at the memory. He was used
to sorrowful scenes, having been long a Shaker, and
given to ministering to the wants of the broken in body
and the sick in mind. No wanderer is ever turned from
the gates of a town of the Shakers, those good folk who
live in villages of their own, scattered here and there
throughout the land, tilling their fields, living simply,
having all things in common. He had seen suffering.
But usually it was suffering dignified with surroundings
somewhat more respectable than in the present case.
The wretched cabin where Joe Fales had lived hung
like a bird's nest on the edge of a cliff overlooking the
river and the sawmill hamlet on its further bank. It
belonged to 110 one; it was simply an abandoned hut,
NOT A SOUND CAME FROM THE PROSTRATE HEAP OP FADED GINGHAM.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
which Fales, driven from farm to farm, always falling
lower and lower because of his idle habits, had finally
taken refuge in because there was no rent to pay. His
wife had died while they were still moderately prosper-
ous; and as to Oshia — Oshia did not mind it at all that
the roof leaked. It was good to lie and watch the stars
come out — a proceeding which a decent roof would have
prevented.
"Poor little soul!" said the women in the hamlet be-
low. "Growin' up like a weed that-a-way ! She's wild
as crab-grass, Oshia is, and that independent and red-
Leaded as you don't feel pushed to do much for her."
She was certainly not pretty, this Oshia on whom
Brother Amos Gray's mind dwelt as he entered West
House. She was eleven or so, slim and wiry, with a pair
of sharp brown eyes glinting from the tangles of her
sandy hair. She was good at climbing trees, at running
along the wet boom-sticks, at rowing a dugout, or riding
like a cat on the edge of a raft of logs. Her ability at
feats like these was not to be questioned. But Amos's
heart failed when he considered how little such matters
would commend Oshia to the Eldress.
He advanced down the hall; it was long, with a clock
at each end and a strip of home-wrought carpet reaching
over its entire length. The walls were stuccoed, and
crossed with black beams. At regular intervals this
checkered expanse was broken by the dark little doors of
the living-rooms. Fifty Shakers made up the West
House Family. On the right of the hall the sisters
dwelt. The brothers had rooms in the left side of the
house.
Amos plodded up two pairs of stairs. He rapped at a
certain door and stood waiting; when the Eldress ap-
peared he inclined his shoulders in a bow, but, according
to Shaker rule, he kept his hat on his head.
"A matter of business, Eldress. brings me —
"I should hope so," said the Eldress, objecting to an
interruption at the hour which she was accustomed to
give to her household accounts. "I should indeed hope
it were an important matter."
She was tall and heavy. Her hair shone like steel in
the coarse mesh of her house cap. She stood firm and
square on her heelless shoes, and the linen cape on her
broad shoulders was very stiff. There was something-
imposing in her presence, revealed thus upon a back-
ground of white walls, prim little windows, waxed floors,
and stern-looking Shaker chairs with list seats.
" Yea, Sister, my business is pressing,'' exclaimed Amos,
eager to justify himself. " Yea, truly. You recall Jo-
seph Fales? — once a renter of our east farm, but long
since a miserable idler, living in an old hut on the cliffs.
1 was called to his bedside this morning at dawn, my
skill in medicines being well thought of; he had a seizure
of the heart, and expired at ten of the clock."
The Eldress's face melted somewhat. "Poor worldly
creature!" she murmured, looking past Amos at the bit
of sky in the hall window, the clear blue floated with
white that was like the dimpled faces of little angels. A
breath of hay came sweet. Some one was whetting a
scythe in the yard below, and the sibilant sound rose
high and thin as the echo of an oaten pipe.
Amos drew his breath. "The — the child Oshia," he
stammered, "is left utterly alone. I — perhaps I did
wrong. But who can refuse a dying man's last request?
Fales — -I promised Fales that the Shakers would take
Oshia."
The Eldress gasped.
"This community no longer takes in children," she
said, severely. "The poor who come to us for aid we
are ready to help —
" But, Eldress, this child is at our very door! There
is no one else to help her. Can we refuse her shelter,
at least till she is old enough to work for herself, to make
her own way? She is wild — I admit it; but she has heaps
of natural wit. And — and there is my word. Sister. It
is gone forth !"
The Eldress stood pondering. Presently she said:
"I will receive this girl into the Family, for the present.
She will be an element of discord. She will be a trial
to me. There are 110 young people among us, save only
Rachel Day. I trust that Rachel's sweet nature may be
a lesson to this Fales girl. But I tell you frankly, Bro-
ther, I expect little of her. The last time I saw her she
was riding down the mill-chute on a log-car. There was
never a time in my life when I wished to ride on a log-
car, dripping with mud. I hope for the best," said the
Eldress, "but I hope against my own judgment." Then
she added: "Tell Brother Hinson to hitch up. I am go-
ing to the Fales dwelling."
"Oh, Eldress, I thank you —
" Tell him to hitch at once."
Whatever the Eldress felt she concealed under a calm
face. But as she climbed into the covered Shaker wagon
and rode off down the 'pike, Brother Hinson, furtively
noting the austere countenance which her poke bonnet
only half hid, was aware of being sorry for Fales's Oshia.
He had not long been a Shaker, this Brother Hinson, with
his fat pink cheeks and sleepily kindly eyes. He had once
lived in the lumber hamlet, and he had often seen Oshia, a
little barefooted thing, playing in the sawdust or paddling
in the river mud, while her father sat by on a log, watch-
ing and smoking, and only by chance leaving the child
for an hour's work at hauling waste stuff from the mill.
Oshia had been poorly off, freckled, unkempt, clad only
in a linsey slip. But as Brother Hinson figured her in
the hands of the Eldress, he heaved a sigh. He had a
deep respect for the Eldress, but yet he sighed.
"It'll be like plantin' a slip of red-bloomin' cactus in
a teacup and settin' it in a cellar," he considered. " It '11
quit bloomin', but the prickles '11 be there jest the same."
Two or three neighbor women hurried to the threshold.
"We ben looking for you, Eldress," they said.
" We've done what we could. But that there Oshia! we
can't do nothing- with her. Walk right in, Eldress."
A little fire of twigs burned in the loose and blackened
stones of the hearth. Its pulsing light fell on the door
of an inner room in which the master of the house lay.
Against the rough panel, face downward oil the puncheon
floor, a little Mgure stretched at length. A bush of
bright hair hid the sharp shoulders; but these were mo-
tionless; not a sound came from the prostrate heap of
faded gingham, beside which squatted a lank Irish setter.
" Oshia," said the Eldress, deeply. There was no re-
sponse. "Oshia," said the Eldress again, "rise at once.
I have come to take you to West House. The Shakers
will take care of you. Even in the midst of your g-rief
you ought to be thankful that such a home is offered you.
I hope you are. I am prepared to be very patient witli
you. You have had no rearing. This wretched habi-
tation— The Eldress paused.
The face under the red locks had suddenly disclosed
itself, dry-eyed, sharp, indignant. There was a tremor in
its lips, as Oshia rose on her knees and stood up in her
rent frock, with her bare wrists and ankles. She looked
straight at the face in the poking Shaker bonnet.
"You're the head one over vender at Shaker town,"
she said, getting her breath. "I've nothing agen you.
But don't ye — don't ye pass a word agen him in there"
— she pointed toward the inner room — "my pappy. Don't
ye say as I bed no raising, or no home. Don't you
dast .' I've bed everything. I've run free as a squerr'l.
And he never give me a mean word — he never lifted his
hand to me, howsomever I let the fire go out, or forgot to
lay in wood ag-en night, or burned the bacon. He's dead.
He won't never speak to me no more. But I'll live here
all alone before ever I'll go with you-im's to be pent up
NOVEMBKR 6, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
11
into a house and be scolded and looked down on and
made for to forgit him! I won't go — I won't!" She
burst into wild sobbing. "Pappy! pappy!" she wailed,
fumbling with the wood button of the door. "Oh. le'
me git to see him ! — le' me !"
The Eldress stood bewildered. Some one just behind
her said, "Let me speak to her." Brother Hinson bad
come in. He looked big and gentle. He had forgotten
his awe of the Eldress. He saw only Oshia struggling
blindly with the door.
"Oshy,r he said, "I've knowed you for a coon's age,
and your father too — I knowed him well. He was a
good man, though he hedn't 110 constitution fer work.
Now listen, Oshy — you're a-grieving him a-doing like
this. He knowed what was best fer you. And he give
you to the Shakers. He give you. Ain't I right?"
Oshia stared and left off sobbing.
"Hinson," she whispered, "you're right. He did give
me. I heern him. I — I belong to 'em." She clutched
at the neck of her frock. " I belong to 'em," she repeated.
Then, turning to the Eldress, she said: "Lady, I ask
your parding for what I 'lowed to you jest now. I'll go
'long with you — bein's as he fixed it that way. I don't
see as I'm well fitten for to make a Shaker woman out
of, no more'n you could turn a crow into a dove by
a-caging of it. But I'll do as well by y' all as I know
how."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
a paper pattern, and then follow it in pasteboard. To do
this, trace with a pencil on stiff paper an oval 5 inches in
diameter and 5£ from top to bottom.
Fold one end across at a point where it will measure
BONBON OR WORK BOX.
T^AKE old kid or Suede gloves. You have no
idea how much may be done with them. They
lend themselves equally well to tobacco-pouches, photo-
graph-frames, bags, boxes, card-cases, and even bedroom
slippers. The material, while it receives embroidery and
paint kindly, is soft and pretty enough to do without their
aid. Only be sure there isn't a spot or blemish on the
surface, for that would spoil everything, and fifteen cents
to a cleaner is but a trifle, after all.
The following directions will enable you to manufac-
ture out of a pair of long Suede gloves a lovely work or
bonbon box, the sole difference between the two being in
the trimmings:
Cut for the bottom of the box a piece of pasteboard
FIG. l.
4 inches square. Then a similar square of white cot-
ton wadding. Split the wadding, and lay one-half on
each side of the pasteboard, with the woolly part inside.
For the four sides of the box you had better first have
FIG. 2.
exactly 4 inches from side to side, as in the diagram, Fig.
1. Cut off the folded end. Pin the pattern on your
pasteboard, and cut out four pieces alike for the box sides.
Arrange the wadding on each of these, as you did on
the square.
Cover the bottom and four sides with silk of some pale
shade brocaded with showy figures. The silk should be
turned over the edge of the pasteboard, and lightly basted
through and through.
Now place each section on the wrong side of the glove
and trace the outline with pencil. Cut out, baste in posi-
tion, and overseam the raw kid edges to the silk lining.
Conceal the stitches on the side pieces by sewing fine
silk cord the shade of the glove, around the oval, but
leave the lower end without cord.
Fit each side carefully to the square bottom and over-
seam, letting the stitches show on the outside of the box.
If it is to be used for candy the lining had better be of
satin paper than silk.
Tack the sides together with enough stitches to stand a
moderate strain from the weight of sugar-plums.
Have a strip of pink, blue, or any light-colored India
sillc, 20 inches long and 6 inches deep. Turn down a
3-inch hem and run a double casing, leaving a ruffle of
two inches above the casings. Now make a narrow hem
on the outer edge to prevent fraying.
Fasten the silk strip securely to the sides of the box.
Euu an inch-wide ribbon through each casing to draw in
opposite directions. Fill the box with bonbons, pull the
ribbons, and tie in short loops and rabbit-ear ends.
For a work-box, line with brocade. Make two full
pockets of soft silk the shade of the brocade figures (Fig.
2). Sew these on the side sections of the lining before
basting it over the pasteboard, otherwise you will find it
hard to do the work neatly.
The top of the pocket should reach as in Fig. 2. and
about seven inches of inch-wide satin ribbon is attached
by a few stitches to the same points.
On the other side sections stitch the ribbon so that
thimble, needle-book, etc., will have each its place, and
leave ends long enough to tie. Turn up the four sides
and tie.
A needle-book is made by covering pasteboard outside
with Suede, lining with brocade, and fastening four leaves
of white flannel between the covers.
EARLY DAYS OF SUCCESSFUL MEN.
THE NAVY — ADMIRAL GHERARDI.
BY FRANKLIN MATTHEWS.
AT 22 YEARS OP AGE.
N' November 10th
Rear - Admiral Ban-
croft Gherardi, of the
United States Navy, will
retire from the active ser-
vice of his country. He
will then be sixty - two
years old, and will have
served his country forty-
eight years. He entered
the navy when only thir-
teen years old, and passed
from grade to grade, until
he became the ranking Ad-
miral in the service, and
reached the highest hon-
ors that could come to any
man in that branch of pub-
lic life. This is a note wor-
thy distinction, but there also came to the Admiral special
honors such as no naval official ever received. They have
served to make his career marked in naval annals. In April,
1893, he had the great honor of leading a fleet of war-
ships from a dozen nations of the world into New York
Harbor to commemorate the discovery of America by
Columbus. This was a pageant such as the world never
saw, and scarcely ever dreamed of, and as Admiral Ghe-
rardi goes into retirement he may justly recall with pride
that his record culminated practically with that unique
achievement.
In studying the career of the man to whom all this
honor has come it will doubtless surprise you to learn
that only one strong personal distinction stands out prom-
inent, and that a very commonplace one — conscientious
devotion to duty. In all his career Admiral Gherardi
never did anything unusual. He simply did the right
thing at the right time, and the rewards that have come
to him are an illustration of that old principle of life that
to the man who does his duty faithfully at all times there
comes compensation as surely as night follows day. Ad-
miral Gherardi was never even wounded in battle, and
yet there never was a braver man in the service. If he
was not hit, it surely was not his fault.
A friend of the Admiral told me that he asked him
once how he felt at the bombardment of Vera Cruz, which
he witnessed from the deck of the old Ohio when a boy
of fourteen. The Admiral said,
"You see, I was no bigger than a sailor's plug of to-
bacco, and of course I don't remember much of anything
about it except that there was a lot of smoke and noise.
and my patriotic spirits were aroused and I forgot dan-
ger."
That is the key-note to the Admiral's career, I think.
When he entered the navy there was no naval academy.
His uncle, George Bancroft, the celebrated historian,
was Secretary of the Navy, and to that fact, I suppose,
his appointment was due largely. His father was a pro-
fessor in a Louisiana school, and young Gherardi had
always been brought up in sight of the water, and thus
became possessed of a desire to be a naval officer. He
was maue a midshipman, and he learned the work by ex-
perience, beginning at the very bottom. After nearly
four vears of service the Naval Academy was opened,
and he went there to study for a year or so, but finally
was sent back to his ship, and continued the study of
practical tilings.
In 1852 Gherardi became a passed midshipman, and
was sent to the Mediterranean in the good old ship, still
preserved, St. Louis. Commander Duncan Nathaniel
Ingraham, an old-school naval officer, was in command.
It was on this ship that Gherardi participated in the Mar-
tin Koszta incident. I have always envied any man who
witnessed the sterling display of patriotism that Ingra-
ham made on that occasion. It was of the Paul Jones
stripe, and has always been an inspiration to the navy.
In those days there was no cable, and naval officers de-
fended the honor of their country according to their best
judgment without consulting home authorities.
An American citizen, Koszta, had returned home to
Europe, and the commander of an Austrian war-ship, the
Hussar, made him a prisoner in Smyrna, refusing to rec-
ognize his American citizenship. Ingraham heard of it,
and at once demanded that Koszta be set free. The Aus-
trian commander refused, and then Ingraham gave no-
tice to the Austrian on July 2, 1853, that unless Koszta
was delivered to him by four o'clock 011 that afternoon he
should fire on the Hussar. Now the Hussar was a great
deal larger than the St. Louis, and in a fight Ingraham
would doubtless have been beaten, but that mattered little
to Ingraham. The stories say that after Ingraham de-
livered his ultimatum he flew into a mighty rage, and in
a voice of fierce determination gave the order.
ADMIRAL GHERARDI TO-DAY.
.
WAR-SHIPS OF DIFFERENT NATIONS COMMANDED BY ADMIRAL GH Eli AUDI ENTERI
"Clear the decks for action !"
It was done in a jiffy, and all that morning the St.
Louis lay there ready to fire when the time should ex-
pire. Ingraham did not know at the time that the Aus-
trian commander had given orders that if the St. Louis
should open fire Koszta should be shot at once in the
place where he was kept in confinement in the ship.
Throughout the morning the Austrian commander pon-
dered on the situation, and at noon decided to surrender
Koszta. Had Ingraham opened fire it meant war, and he
knew it, hut what was that when an American citizen
was a prisoner? The shotted guns of the St. Lonis told
a story that meant bloodshed and deatli to many a sailor;
but principle was at stake, and Ingraham knew no such
word as fear, and would willingly have sacrificed his own
life and that of all his crew to assert the dignity of his
country. Gherai'di never forgot what he learned on
that occasion.
Five years later the adventurer Walker overran Nica-
ragua, and actually had himself proclaimed President of
the republic. At last it became necessary for the United
States to arrest him and bring him home. With Com-
mander Hiram Paulding, on the Saratoga, Gherardi par-
ticipated in this incident, and he learned some practical
lessons in international law there. In that same year
the Atlantic cable was laid — two previous attempts
were unsuccessful — and the American man-o'-war Ni-
agara and the English war-ship Agamemnon met in.
mid-ocean and spliced the cable, and Queen Victoria and
President Buchanan exchanged compliments over the
occasion, which meant so much for civilization. Events
were now moving fast for Gherardi. The war came on
quickly, and he got his first command. He was made a
Lieutenant -Commander, and was assigned to blockade
duty. He participated in the engagement of Fort Ma-
con, and commanded the gunboat Cliocura in the West-
ern Gulf Blockading Squadron. He was kept at this
work for nearly two years, but took part in the famous
battle of Mobile Bay in August, 1864, and then com-
manded the Pequot in the North Atlantic Blockading
Squadron. He was made a Commander in 1866, and com-
manded the Jamestown in the Pacific. He continued in
the Pacific for several years, and became a Captain in
1874. He commanded the Pensacola, Colorado, and,
final! y, was in charge of the flag-ship Lancaster, at Alex-
andria, in 1882.
Arabi Pasha had started a revolution in Egypt, and
his atrocities were so terrible that the English were com-
pelled to interfere. On July llth and 12th they bom-
barded Alexandria, and made havoc with the city. It
was the first strong demonstration since our civil war of
the great power of modern guns and projectiles, and
made a spectacle the like of which had never been seen
before. Finally it became necessai'3T to land soldiers and
sailors from the American flag-ship to protect American
interests, and on that occasion Gherardi was a sharer in
the distinction that came to our navy, for it was agreed
that no body of troops made a better showing than did
ours at that time. Here was more practical interna-
tional law for Gherardi.
In 1884 Gherardi became a Rear- Admiral, and was as-
signed to the North Atlantic Station, where he had al-
ready served more time than anywhere else. He sailed
into Port-au-Prince one day on the Kearsarge, in 1889,
and found that Hippolyte had beaten Legitime. The lat-
ter's life was in danger, and he was put under the care of
the American minister. It was necessary to see him safe
out of the country, and the war-ships of the other coun-
tries which were there were to co-operate with the Kear-
sarge to accomplish it. All the men-of-war in the harbor
moved up close to the city and cleared their decks for
action. Gherardi had been through this before, and lie
knew what he was about. A consultation was in progress
at the American legation as to the best means to secure
the safety of Legitime, when the latter drove down to the
legation in a rush. It was reported that rioting had be-
gun in the city, and Legitime had to fly for safety. As
the carriage came dashing up to the door Admiral Ghe-
rardi rushed out, and drew his sword as he ran. He did
not know what he had to meet, but he was prepared for
personal combat if necessary. Legitime was saved, but
there were several persons killed in the rioting in the
town.
When the Columbian celebration came, Gherardi was
ranking Admiral, and although there were other naval
officers who desired to command on the occasion. Secre-
tary Tracy gave it to the man to whom it belonged by
rank, and he performed his work well. In the fleet that
sailed up the Hudson River there were capabilities of
deatli and destruction almost inconceivable, and proba-
bly under no other auspices could such a squadron have
assembled. It was a monster fleet of war-ships proclaim-
ing a spirit of peace. Two clays after there occurred un-
doubtedly one of the most notable naval events in his-
tory— a land parade of the armed forces in the harbor.
English, French, German, and the others, marched down
the streets of New York in harmony and peace, and those
who saw it might well have asked if the millennium had
come. Gherardi had arranged this magnificent demon-
stration of the power and influence of the United Stales
as a peace-maker among the nations of the earth, and well
might he be proud of it. His career was practically
closed with this incident. A year or so of active service
remained to him, and it has been spent at the Brooklyn
Navy-yard.
Such has been Admiral Gherardi's public record.
14
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
show how little tilings in youth affect the after-life of great
men, it may be said that all this success hinged prarii
cally on a French examination at the Naval Academy
away hack in 1852. Rear- Admiral Braine, now retired,
outclassed Gherardi in all studies except French. Braine
failed to pass in that. Gherardi was skilled in it, and
so to him and not to Braine eventually came the great
honor of commanding a fleet of the nations of the world.
Braine did pass his examination in French finally, and
had an opportunity to take his rank ahead of Gherardi,
but his sense of honor was too strong, and he declined
to displace his 'former classmate, who had fairly won a
place by earnest and conscientious work.
In looking over this record of Gherardi, no particular
personal achievement, as I have said, stands forth promi-
nently. I do not know that he would be called a brill-
iant man. I do know that he has always been a faith-
ful man, and I also know that because of that he has
been an unusually successful man. Is there not a signifi-
cant lesson in this for all young persons, and even others?
And is not this lesson all the more potent because he
achieved success not by reason of unusual gifts of Provi-
dence, but by reason of simply doing his duty day after
day as it came, and by doing it well?
THE MYSTERIOUS TRAVELLER.
I.
" TT couldn't be clone — it's as impossible as for a man
JL to get from here to Fort St. Denis all by himself
without being' chopped into cutlets by the Arabs."
"Well, I don't think that experiment is very likely to
be made, for no man alive would be such a fool as to try
it!"
The speakers were two young French officers, who were
standing in the midst of a group of their comrades in
front of the mess-room in Fort Victoire (one of the new
military posts recently planted along the edge of the
Sahara by the advance of French conquest), watching
the sun rise over the boundless expanse of desert beyond
them.
"What? when the forts are only twenty miles apart;"
cried a smooth-faced young cornet of light horse, who
had just come out from France to join the garrison.
"Do you mean to tell me that a man can't even get over
a short distance like that without being murdered?"
"Try it, and see!" answered the other, with a signif-
icant grin.
'But surely if a man were to disguise himself care-
fully," suggested the subaltern, who, like many other
people, stood up as stoutly for the crude notions that he
had gathered out of books as if they were fully borne out
by his own personal experience.
"Disguise himself?" echoed the eldet man, in a tone of
utter con tempt. " Why, Bertrand, do you know no more
of these rascally Arabs than that? I tell you no disguise
upon earth would be any good against them — they .•;/;<//
farther than a Christian can see. If a French soldier
were headed up in a cask, they'd know somehow or other
that he trus there. I'm not very rich myself, but I'd
wagi-ii1 fifty napoleons any day that no European ever
goes from here to Fort St. Denis alone, and reaches
there alive!"
"Done!" said a quiet voice behind him.
The speakers looked round with a start, and saw that a
new personage had suddenly come upon the scene — a
small, thin, swarthy Frenchman in civilian dress, with
a face of settled gravity, though every now and then a
strange half-mocking smile flickered over his dark fea-
tures like lightning in a moonless sky.
The officers laughed, supposing him to be only joking;
but when they saw that he was really in earnest they be-
gan to remonstrate vehemently.
"You must not think of it, my dear sir," cried the
young Lieutenant who had offered the wager. "You
are our guest, and we cannot let you bind yourself to
what would be nothing less than suicide!"
"Perhaps it may not turn out to be such a terrible
business after all, "said the little man, with a quiet smile;
" and in any case," he added, more gravely, " I know that
I need fear no hinderance from French officers in an affair
which concerns my honor."
The last word touched all his hearers in the right
place; and the speaker, seeing its effect, hastened to add:
"Now I'm going straight to the Colonel to ask his
permission to make the attempt, and I have not the least
doubt that I shall get it."
And he did get it, sure enough, though it was not
without a severe twinge of conscience that Colonel La-
grange gave his sanction to a hazard the overwhelming
peril of which was manifest at a glance to a veteran sol-
dier like himself.
Rash as he was, however, the bold adventurer had a
method in his madness nevertheless; for the first thing
he did was to assume an Arab dress, knowing that how-
ever useless such a disguise might prove at close quarters
against the keen eyes of his enemies, yet if they saw from
a distance a solitary man in native garb, they might not
think it worth while to ride after him, as they would cer-
tainly do after a European.
" You'll wait till nightfall, of course," suggested the
Colonel.
"Not I," answered the guest, coolly; " the night's the
very worst time for an expedition of this sort, because
it's at night that such ventures are always made, and so,
of course, it's then that these rogues will be on the watch.
I shall go right in the middle of the day, when the ras-
cals will be either asleep, or, at all events, not on the
lookout."
When the hour for starting came, not merely the old
Colonel, but every other officer who was not actually on
duty, crowded to the gate of the little fortress to witness
the departure of their adventurous guest.
xCaii I carry any message for you to Fort St. Denis,
Colonel?" asked the latter, turning to Colonel Lagrange,
as coolly as if he were only setting out on a picnic,
instead of running a risk in which the chances were
ninety to one in favor of his being killed.
" Well, since you will go," rejoined the veteran, laugh-
ing in spite of himself, "you might give this paper to
the Commandant; and I only hope you'll survive to de-
liver il."
"And I, "said Lieutenant Dufaure, warmly, "shall be
as glad to lose those fifty napoleons as ever I was to win
double the amount."
"I trust to see you enjoy that pleasure very shortly,"
answered the hero of the day as composedly as ever.
"An revoir, gentleinrn."
II.
There is no more grim or dreary spectacle upon the
face of the earth (except, perhaps, the kindred wastes of
Central Asia) than the mighty desert that stretches al-
most unbroken from the palm groves of Egypt to the
waves of the Atlantic. On every side, as far as the eye
can reach, the dim unending level of the eternal wilder-
ness melts into the quivering film of intense heat along
the horizon, in an endless succession of wide wastes of
sand, and bare stony plains, and dry dusty hollows, out
of which the bleaching bones of camels and of men start
up white and ghastly here and there.
All at once, in the very midst of the hot brassy glare
which makes all earth and sky seem on fire together, the
pluinv crests of a long line of graceful palms are seen
NOVEMBEK 6, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
15
standing' like sentinels along the edge of a clear, still,
shining lake. But it is only that fatal mirage of the
desert, which mocks the weary eye of the lost wanderer in
these awful solitudes with a deceitful semblance of hope,
only to add a keener agony to the bitterness of his despair.
To the brave Frenchman, however, this visionary splen-
dor and this weird everlasting desolation were alike
hackneyed spectacles, and forward he went, without even
troubling himself to look at them, as briskly as the scorch-
ing heat and his flowing Arab robes would let him.
Ten miles of the twenty had already been accom-
plished—then twelve — fourteen — fifteen. He had now
achieved three-fourths of his perilous journey; and at
length, mounting the crest of one of the long low wave-
like sand ridges, he descried far in the distance the low
white wall of Fort St. Denis, with the gay tricolor flag of
France waving jauntily above it. But at the same mo-
ment he caught sight of something else which was by no
means so satisfactory, viz., a distant group of white man-
tles and glittering spear points and Arab horses coming
straight down upon him.
The fact was that the French had so often employed
native messengers that every man, even if he looked like
an Arab, was now an object of suspicion to these desert
vultures. But when they neared our hero and saw that
he quietly continued on his way, without taking any no-
tice of them whatever, they began to think that they
must be wrong in suspecting him, naturally supposing
that his showing- so littl-e fear of them was a proof that
he could have no reason to be afraid.
As the six wild horsemen closed round him, brandish-
ing their guns and spears, but still in doubt whether to
attack him or not, the disguised Frenchman drew him-
self up defiantly, indulged in a series of those excited
gesticulations which are characteristic of Mohammedan
pilgrims, and then called out to them fiercely in fluent
Arabic :
"Begone, transgressors of the law! a true believer
hath no fellowship with the sinners who violate the sa-
cred commands of the Prophet !"
" What mean you?" asked the nearest horseman, in a
tone of amazement, which was certainly not without
reason.
" What call 3-011 this ?" retorted the accuser, with stern
emphasis ; and quick as thought he drew forth (or at
least seemed to draw forth) from beneath the Arab's
white mantle an undeniable pork sausage!
A yell of mingled horror and indignation burst from
his comrades as the " unclean flesh " came to light; and
their holy anger broke forth anew when the reproving
stranger produced a small flask of ll'ine from the pouch
of another of the band.
This was more than flesh and blood could bear. One
of the zealous Moslems dealt a heavy blow to the wretch
who thus defied the precepts of the holy Koran ; where-
upon the fierce Arab levelled his long gun and shot him
dead on the spot, being himself instantly shot dead in
turn by the slain man's brother.
Meanwhile the supposed sausage-eater, being coarsely
reviled by two of his comrades, drew his sword and mor-
tally wounded both. The next moment he went down
before the sixth man's stroke, but, in falling, he avenged
himself with a pistol-shot; and a scouting party from
Fort St. Denis, drawn to the spot by the firing, found all
the six Arabs dead or dying, their horses standing mourn-
fully beside them, and the mysterious traveller looking
on with the quiet satisfaction of one watching the success
of a great scientific experiment.
"Ami " _, are you?' asked the officer in command,
wonderingly, when the stranger had told his story.
"I am a conjurer by trade, and my name is Robert
Houdin," quietly answered the greatest juggler in Europe;
and that name explained everything.
A CRANBERRY BOG.
THE men, women, and children of Cape Cod earn considerable
money every autumn by picking cranberries in the bogs.
A large portion of the cape is bog land, which was practically
worthless a few years ago. Thousands of acres have beeu re-
claimed, and extensive cranberry bogs nave been constructed at
a cost of from §250 to $300 au acre.
There is now a cranberry belt extending along tbe north
shore of Buzzards Bay and the southern part of Cape Cod.
This region has become one of tbe greatest cranberry -growing
districts of tbe world.
Tbe cranberry-growers make great preparations for tbe small
army of people which must be boused and fed during the pick-
ing season. The accommodations are ratlier rude and primitive.
Some of tbe pickers live in board cabins, but most of them dwell
in tents. It is a- curious and novel sight to see several hundred
pickers in camp about tbe swamps.
The cranberry-pickers are out in the bogs soon after daylight,
and they remain as long as they can see a berry. In large
cranberry bogs, where several hundred people are at work, the
pickers are divided into companies, each company consisting of
120 persons. Tbe company is in charge of a "boss," who keeps
account of the amount each picker gathers during tin-
day.
The bog is lined off into rows with twine, and each picker has
a strip about three feet wide, wbicb must be picked clean. The
pickers, men, women, and children of all ages, work along the
bog on their knees. The berries are usually gathered from the
\iiies by hand, although a picking-machine is sometimes used.
When pickers are scarce the berries are raked off with a garden
rake.
The pickers are paid by tbe measure, which is a broad six-
quart pail. Tbe price paid is from eight to ten cents a measure.
Tbe amounts which pickers will gather in a day vary from 150
to 250 quarts. Some of the most expert workers, when the yield
is heavy, have been known to gather sixty-live measures, or 3!JU
quarts of cranberries in a day.
There are always many boys and girls in tbe bogs picking
berries, and when they work together time flies rapidly. After
the day's work is done young couples are seen walking home
hand in band. The tots are carried in father's or mother's
arms. The cranberry season lasts about three weeks, and when
it is over the children are sent back to school and their lessons.
Most of them are sorry that the vacation is at an end.
IF.
IF I were the basket for holding the cake,
I'm sorry to say that I fear
The buns and tbe cookies and jumbles they bake
Would in a sbort time disappear.
If I bad four legs, like a table or chair,
You'd never catch me standing still,
I'd be dancing a jig all the time with each pair.
With a marvellous, wonderful skill.
If I were a bureau, with wheels on my feet,
The family M discover, I think.
Mr soon rolling over tbe aspbalted street,
Like the lads who .skate down in the rink.
If I bad six arms, like our big chandelier,
They'd not be so quiet all day,
But bugging my mamma and sisters so dear.
In tbe lovingest sort of a way.
If I were a book for a wee little boy.
Who never could read to him-..!!,
I'd spout all my stories to him with great joy
From my place on the library shelf.
If I were a pen near a big pot of ink,
I'd just bave the loveliest times!
I'd go to the ink-pot, and deeply I'd drink,
Ai:d spend all the day writing rhymes.
1C
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI?
A CAT BOAT RACE.
SAMMY'S WONDERFUL POP.
RAISES CHICKENS Ax'l) SCARES THE DAUKY.
DEAR MR. EDITOR. — The last time I was talking with Sam-
my (which was yesterday) he says to me,
" Harry, didn't your Pop ever do anything strawdinai v.'"
" No," I says, " I don't believe lie ever did." (I didn't like to
say it, but it is a fact.) "I guess he never travelled much, but
just staid at home and tended to his business kind of pokey-
like."
" Oh," says Sammy, " so has my Pop always tended to business.
He's had some of the most 'stonishing things happen to him
when he's been right at home tending to business every day.
'Member the time he h'isted up thejyraffs behind so's they could
get their heads down and eat grass 1"
"Yes," says I.
" Well, he was right on his farm working hard all day. Pop
has been a farmer a good deal. He had the jyratf farm in Africa,
but he had a farm once in this country, too."
" Where was it ?" I asked.
"Down in South Carolina. He had a farm there where he
raised watermelons and chickens and all such things. Their
\\ as a darky living near that give Pop lots of trouble, 'cause ho
liked chickens so well. This darky was named 'Poleon Bony-
part, and he liked his chickens fried. But he never raised any
chickens hisself. so he used to get 'em from Pop mostly, Pop says,
in the dark of the moon, and some while after bedtime, and
quite a spell 'fore breakfast. This darky run off with the
chickens so fast that Pop couldn't get none ahead to sell, and if
he wanted one hisself for Sunday dinner he had to go to the
market and buy it.
•• Well, Pop tried all sorts of ways to catch the darky, or-keep
him away, but they didn't none of 'em work. One day Pop got
a watch-dorg. That night 'fore he went to bed he walked out to
see ho\v he was getting 'long, and the dorg thought Pop was
'Poleon, and chased him up on a roost, and he had to set there all
nightjust 'sif he'd been a chicken. Pop got pretty tired of it 'fore
morning. The only fun he had was when it was getting light
and the roosters begun to crow. Pop just flopped his elbows up
and down and crowed too, and larfed to hisself; but it wasn't
so very much fun, after all, and he was glad to fly down in the
morning.
•• Then Pop fixed up a spring-gun to go off
and shoot fine shot into 'Poleon's legs and
scare him away; but it went off 'fore 'Po-
leon come, somehow, and killed a whole roost-
ful of chickens; and then the darky come
and gathered 'cm up and took Vm home.
'Poleou said to his wife that it was very kind
of Pop to kill the chickens for him, and he
spected the next thing he knew he'd begin
to find 'em all ready fried.
"After this Pop didn't know what to do
for a long time, till one day he was down-
town and saw a man selling parrots, and
he says to bisself, 'I've got it!' So he buys
a parrot and takes him home.
'•Then for a week Pop trained the parrot
to stay with the chickens, and roost with
them at night 011 the end of the front roost
next to the window. The parrot didn't
want to do it at first, and says to Pop that
he'd got to have a cage and a big ring to set
in, but Pop wouldn't listen to it. and told
him his place was with the chickens. At
last the parrot give in, and didn't kick any
more 'bout it.
"Well, it went oil for mebby a week, and
nothing happened. Then there wasn't any
moon any more, and 'Poleou said he reckon-
ed mebby he, oughter have some more fried
chicken. So that night he went over 'cross
the field a little while after midnight, and
crep' up still-like to Pop's hen-housi-, and
reached in the window, and got a chicken by
the legs, and put it under his arm and start-
ed home. 'Powerful light fowl,' says 'Po-
leou to hisself, 'but I spect it's a spring
chicken. It ongliter be tender as m'lasses.'
Just then that chicken opens his bill, and
says he, loud as he could holler: 'Chicken
thief! Chicken thief! Nigger, chicken thief !'
Then Pop and all the neighbors come running out, and the
darky was so scart he just dropped the parrot and ruu so fast
that Pop guesses he couldn't stop, 'cause nobody ever saw him
again."
I was just asking Sammy if his Pa really thought the darky
was running yet, like Snooper with the perairie-chickeu, when
I heard Ma calling me. I asked her what she wanted, and she
said I hadn't tilled the wood-box for night yet, and I had to go.
Ma never will wait for anything, no matter how 'portaut it is.
Yours truly, HARRY.
IN THE HISTORY CLASS.
"WHO was Washington's father. Jack?" asked the teacher.
"The Grandfather of his Country,1' replied Jack.
JACK FROST'S APOLOGY.
To strip you of your foliage
My spirit sorely grieves,
Nor will I in the task engage
Unless you grant your leaves.
SOME WERE BIGGER THAN OTHERS.
"WHAT have you got there, Jimmieboy?" asked his teacher,
observing that the small youth was playing behind the cover of
his desk.
••Two horsechestnuts and one little poiiychest-uut," said Jim-
mieboy.
BOBBY'S DECLAMATION.
Tun boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but him had fled;
But just what happened after that
Has gone out of my head.
THE TROUBLE WITH A TUTOR.
"Do you go to school, Willie?" queried the visitor.
•• Xo," said Willie, who has a tutor. " School comes to me. I
wish it didn't, too. Some days are too wet for me to go out, but
there ain't any too wet for Mr. Diggins."
YOUNG PEOPLE
ht, 1894, by HAHPKE * BROTHERS All Ri-hts Reserve,!
PUBLISHED WEEKLY
VOL. XVI.— NO. 785.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY. NOVEMBER 13, 1894.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO 1>OLLAHS A YEAH.
FALES'S OSHIA.
BY EVA WILDER McGLASSOX.
"C1
CHAPTER II.
it plenty long, Sister Lena. She is likely to
grow. Straighten up, Oshia! how can we get the
length when you hold your shoulders so?"
The Eldress spoke evenly, casting her eye upon the
two figures in the middle of the sewing-room of West
House. It was a big bare room, with linen sash shades
at the little deep-set windows, against which a wilder-
ness of beech-leaves glistened and rustled. A narrow
cutting-table reached along one wall. Several women
in Shaker garb of plain gowns, round capes, and thin
lace caps sat about, sewing on garments of cotton stuff.
A length of this goods, dark blue in color, trailed from
Sister Lena's hand as she measured the distance from
Oshia's neck to her heavily shod feet. For she wore
shoes now, and they were stout ones.
"So!" said Sister Lena, pinching a mark in the ging-
ham. "That '11 'low for shrinking. She ain't over-M/a
ble for her age, Eldress. Hadn't I best cut out sever' 1
many aperns for her? I d' know as I ever saw a child
worse off for clothes than she is, or worse on 'em when
she gits 'em. Look at that frock, oify made last week!
It's split down the back lik>' a locus'!"
Oshia lifted her chin sharply. " I never ast y' all for
18
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
clothes," she said, quivering. A month of Shakertown
had changed her considerably. She was decently hab-
ited nowadays in heavy print frocks that reached to her
ankles. Her curling- hair was as straight as Sister Lena
could make it, and over the loose waves a, thick black
net spread its constraining meshes. The freckles, too.
which had been a leading characteristic of Oshia's face,
were blanched, by the use of a Shaker bonnet and by
long hours ill-doors, to mere phantoms of themselves.
Oshia looked pale; she flushed, however, as the El dress
held up an admonitory linger.
"Impertinence, Oshia!" said the Eldress. "It seems
to me that I am always reproving you. As to these
garments, I can only say that most girls of your age
would be able to assist in making them. How does
Oshia's sewing get on, Lena'"
"Her stitches are as long as time and as grimy as sin."
said Lena, picturesquely. " And she draws up a seam till
it looks like a flounce."
The Eldress shook her head. " Rachel Day could fell
a seam beautifully when she was seven years old." she
remarked.
Rachel Day, who was sitting hard by on a wood bench,
smiled modestly. She was a Iktle demure creature, with
a gentle glance under her long lashes.
"Aw, Eldress," she said, softly. Then she held up a
strip of green barege. "This is for the cape of Oshia's
new bonnet," she said. "I am hemming it."
"New bonnet?" inquired the Eldress. "Why, what
has become of the one Sister Jane wove for her three
weeks ago?"
Oshia hung her head. " Sist' Hannah sent me to the
cellar fer potatoes, and I fetched 'em in the buimit, bein's
it was handy. And draggin' it up the steps kind of tore
the straw. But," broke in Oshia, fervidly, "I just as
lief not wear a buimit. Eldress. Makes my head feel
like it were in a trap. I ain't used to wearing nothing
on my head noway."
"You were mightily freckled when you came here,"
said Rachel.
"Was I? Well, I 'ain't ever keered 'bout skins or
such if I could only git to run free in the sun. Oh, the
sun! Eldress, I know I belong to you to do what you
please with. I ain't whining. But I ben shut up in
this contrapshun — this house, I want to say — for a pow'-
ful long time seems like. I'd take it mighty grateful if
you'd give me leave to go out yender to Bailey's farm
this afternoon."
" Bailey's farm !"
" Yes — I mean yea, Eldress. I'd like to see how them
Bailey boys is treating our houn'-dog. It like to broke
my heart to give that houu' up! but seem' Shakers don't
keep nare kind of pet — birds nor cats nor nothing — why,
I reckoned I best leave Bailey's Jack hev him. And if
Jack 'ain't treated that dog right, I aims to call him to
time !"
"Eight miles! Certainly I will not let you go eight
miles off to Baileys'!" The Eldress, as she spoke, turned
and withdrew.
" You've got a mighty high temper. Oshia." said Lena,
observing the girl's darkening face. " But you best learn
to govern yourself. Eldress aims to be kind to you. but
she won't put up with no airs. She comes from Ohio,
Eldress does, and I've heard tell as her folks were mighly
rich and imposing. She brought money and eduiMinm
to the Shakers. And for you that ain'l ever had a de-
cent roof over you to stand there pouting because you
can't git to traipse round like a red Injun, why, it's
spurious — ain't it, Sisters?" And the others agreed that it
was. " Look at Rachel !" continued Lena. "She ain't
always squirming round restless as a colt
"I envies her mightily," said Oshia, wistfully survey-
ing Rachel's small sober face. She greatly admired
Rachel ; and Rachel took this admiration coldly, sweetly,
just as she took everything.
" I d' know what makes me keer fer you like I do,"
Oshia said to her one evening as the two went for their
daily walk "down yender as far as the graveyard." Ami
•she- added. " You're like the things the frost spins on the
winder-panes — pretty and fine and flowery and froze.
You're pow'ful frozen-spereted, Rachel !"
And Rachel, saiiling gently, said, " What queer notions
you have, Oshia!"
The sun was just slipping out of sight below the black
uplands, marked all about with Shaker fencing of piled
stones. Its rays lingered rosily on the enclosed space,
where lay asleep all the Shakers of the town who had
passed away since the time of the settlement's founding,
eighty years back. A treeless unkempt lot it was, with
scaling gray pickets all about. Here and there in the
tall weeds a little wood head-piece showed white, or stone-
colored, or quite black with time.
" I'm right glad pappy ain't laid there," said Oshia,
gazing at the enclosure.
She stood quite still, looking down the 'pike. An empty
farm-wagon was advancing into sight. On the low seat
a bare-footed boy sat, flecking the flies from the slow-
going horses with a willow switch. Oshia trembled.
"It's Jack Bailey!" she said. "Jack! Aw, Jack
Bailey!" The boy stared. " It's me — Oshia Fales!"
"So 'tis! I never knowed you first off— in that rig.
Huh! huh! you're a Shaker gyrl sure 'nough, ain't you,
Oshy?"
"I reckon I be," said Oshia, climbing to the hub.
"Oh, Jack Bailey, how's my houn' a-doing?"
The boy's face took on an embarrassed look. "We
feed him to everything," said he. " But look like lie's
mighty spin'ling', Oshia. Mighty. He misses ye, I reck-
on. Sometimes dogs pine away missiii' their masters.
Can't ye come over 'n' see him? Our folks 'd be rale
pleased. I could fetch ye in the wagon."
Oshia looked piteously up from the road. She had
dropped limply from the wheel. "Eldress won't leave
me." she breathed, sadly. "But, Jack! — oh, Jack! —
She paused, and glanced at Rachel, waiting primly at
the wayside, with a sprig of golden-rod in her hand.
"Jack," whispered Oshia. She climbed again to the
hub. and muttered something in his ear. He grinned.
"You wouldn't dast!" he said.
"You'll see!" cried Oshia, as the wagon moved on its
way.
"Shakers ain't allowed to stop and talk to travellers,"
said Rachel, when. Oshia returned to her. " I ought to
tell Eldress."
" Be you going to?" asked Oshia, anxiously.
'Nay," said Rachel. Whereupon Oshia kissed her.
"I didn't mind her knowing," said Oshia, "but my
heart would <>' broke, Rachel, if you'd done such a triflin'
thing as to tattle."
" I never carry tales," remarked Rachel, holding her
little head up.
She found Oshia a most exciting element in her life.
She was even getting to be a little — a very little fond of
her impetuous roommate, who, after Sister Lena snored
soundly, was wont to whisper marvellous stories such as
Rachel in the whole twelve years of her life had never
dreamed of.
She was additionally glad later on that she had prom-
ised not to mention their encounter with Bailey's boy.
For as the girls ascended the side steps of West House
they heard the sound of an excited voice in the
hall.
"Yea, Eldress!" said some one, who appeared to be old
Sister Ruth, " them's the very words she used to me. I
ben living here for a mighty long spell, and I never hed
such words spoke to me afore, so I never!"
NOVEMBER 13, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
19
" Are you sure you understood Osliia correctly?" asked
the Eldress.
"Onderstood? why, 'twas plain as day! There she is
now, Eldress, coining- up the steps. Ask her."
"Sister Ruth reports to ine that you have been very
rude to her. Osliia," said the Eldress. turning.
" Who— me;'' cried Osliia, aghast. " I never — I never
sassed her !u my life!"
"Eldress. she did. It was like this; I was a stuffing
emery-bags —
"Oh!" said Osliia. "I know what she means! She
was a .stuffing emery-bags with cotton, and I says to her:
'Be you going to sell them there for 'emery-bags? They
'ain't got 110 emery in 'em,' I says. And she 'lowed she
was. And I says it wasn't honest for to sell folks cotton
when they thought they was buying emery. I never
said a sassy word, Eldress."
" We always fill the bags with cotton," said the Eldress.
"They look better."
' 'Taiii't honest," said Oshia. "Cotton ain't no good
to sharpen needles on.'.'
"Oshia," broke forth the Eldress, unable to combat this
view, "go to your room. Go at once. And come to me
to-morrow at ten of the clock. I have been too lenient
with you, and I shall now apply severer rules." Oshia
looked sad. But she walked away without making any
appeal.
The Eldress watched her with annoyance. She was
not at all clear in her mind as to what should be done
with this little barbarian, whose untutored ideas of honor
were so painfully exact. "The rude child!" muttered
the Eldress, as she sat down by her open window and gazed
out at the starlight. She wondered dimly if it was
Oshia's plain speaking orOshia's plain thinking that was
most irritating.
"I've tried to deal fair by all men," thought she.
" Yes, to press the measure overfull, so that I might per-
haps make up for — for — But she broke off, as from a
too painful vision. The notes of a distant w hippoorwill
sounded sweet and faint on her ear. Presently the bell
for bed-time rang through the house. It rang again, and
the Eldress knew that in each of the rooms a candle was
being snuffed out. Darkness and quietude settled over
the place; but the Eldress still lingered by the window.
She was thinking of the Ohio town near which she had
lived; of the days when she had been no austere person
of importance, but only a red-cheeked girl whose frolic
spirit made her the gayest of the throngs at quilting' bees
and country dances. She had been " lively as a cricket "
— lively enough until that bitter, bitter day. But again
the Eldress roused herself. She had long set herself the
task of forgetting. Not for any spell of dim moonlight
or far-off bird-notes would she break this rule. Every
one else was sleeping. It was late. She heard tin- mid
night express whistle for the bridge two miles off. She
would go to bed and sleep too. as the rest were sleeping.
But was every one indeed sleeping? The Ehhvss
paused. A soft rustling noise came from somewhere in the
house. It sounded like the swish of skirts rustling gently
from step to step of the stairs outside. But as the Eldress
gave ear she failed to catch anything like a footstep.
Still the faint noise continued. It appeared to come
nearer, and. whatever it might be. to begin to go down the
last flight of stairs.
The Eldress struck a match and lighted her candle.
Then she opened her door arid let a sudden Hare of light
out into the dark passages and narrow steep stairw a\ s.
As her glance fell on the lower hall she gave a quick ex-
clamation.
"I might have known," she said — "I might have
known !" For there, motionless in the candle's rays,
struck mute, perhaps with fear, stood a small figure, with
hair unnetted, and with its shoes across its arm. There
at the very sill of the outer door she stood, stealing away
like a thief in the night, this girl whom the Eldress had
sheltered and fed and been kind to after her fashion.
The Eldress's heart swelled with indignation. If Oshia
wanted to go, she herself would certainly make no objec-
tion to such a riddance, provided only that the child had
a place to go to. But had she? And even if she had it
was not in accordance with Oshia's usual straightfor-
wardness thus to be sneaking away from Shakertown
at dead of night. These considerations went in a Hash
through the Eldress's mind. Then very sternly she said,
"Oshia!" At this the figure veered round. It gave a
frightened sob, but the sound on its lips was drowned in
the Eldress's sharp output of breath as she stood staring
into the hall. For it was not Oshia's face which thus
whitely regarded her, not Oshia's vivid, honest little vis-
age at all, but the soft countenance of Rachel Day.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
A EUNAWAY FIN-BACK.
A WHALING YARN.
BY A. J. ENSIGN.
IT was in the second dog-watch, and the wind was light
but steady over the port quarter. The ship had her
stu'ns'ls on, and her three milk-white steeples of canvas
loomed fair against the deep blue sky. Away forward,
where the draught out of her head-sails fanned their pipes
to a red glow, half a dozen young and active fellows were
clustered around a sailor known as Handsome, because
he looked like the figure-head of a Greek battle trireme,
designed to strike terror to the hearts of foes. Handsome
was so old that he was a forecastle patriarch, and had a
fund of ocean experience that made every dog-watch a
feast of yarns.
"Say, Handsome," said a sailor known as Farmer Joe,
because he looked like a farmer, "did you ever sarve on
a whaler?"
" Yes, lad, I did, "said Handsome, emphatically. "Fact
is, Joe, that was my start at sea."
" Yeou 'ain't never told us about that," said Farmer
Joe.
"Well, that's true, but I'll tell you now," said Hand-
some. He leaned back against the windlass and puffed
hard at his pipe, while he gathered his memories of the
early fifties together. " I was the son of a farmer, lads."
he said, " and I took to reading some of those silly yarns
of the sea written by meir that never saw salt water. I
ought to have known better, for I went to a good school and
hail a good home. But I thought I was badly off, and so
one day I up and ran away. I made for the nearest sea-
port, which happened to be New Bedford. There I set
about getting a berth. It didn't take me long to find nut
that merchant ships had no use for a farmer's boy. They
wanted sailors, not landsmen. But I learned that with
whalemen it was different. An old boat-steerer, who
saw me standing on a wharf looking at a whaler, came
up to me and said :
"'Don't you want to ship? Good wages, and your
outfit provided.'
" I told him I'd never been to sea, but he said that
didn't make any difference; whalers rather liked to ship
green hands. So the long and short of it was that I
shipped for the voyage, and when we cleared from port
I soon found out that he had told me the truth. Our
crew was the meanest mixture of greenhorns I ever saw.
For nearly a week most of them were half dead from sea-
sickr.css, and wished they'd never seen the sea. I was
one of 'them. Then the mates began to teach us our
work. They used to stand alongside the rigpiii-' and
club us to make us go aloft. It took about a week to
teach us that. Then came the job of showing us the
20
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
ropes. Some of the hands never did learn then). I guess
I was meant for the sea, for I learned them without much
trouble. Well, I don't suppose you want to hear about
the early part of our voyage. What you want to know
is what happened on the whaling-grounds.
"We were bound for the Indian Ocean, and it was the
Captain's scheme to cruise along the Madagascar coast,
which in those days was a fine whaling-ground. It may
be yet, for all I know. To get to the point, however,
imagine the whaler Ellen Burgee standing on an easy
bow-line in a light breeze. You know the way a whaler
covered a cruising-ground in those days was to beat to
windward on tacks running from one side of the ground
to the other and then rim back to leeward — for the winds
are mostly steady in those latitudes. Of course we were
looking for sperm-whales, though we were willing to
take anything that came along. All of a sudden the
mast-head lookout yells, ' There she blows, and there she
white-waters!' In a minute all was excitement aboard
the ship, and we stood by to lower away our four boats.
Some jumped to loosen the boat gripes, and others to put
the line tubs in place. Lines had to be bent on, sheaths
taken off the harpoons and lances, sails and spars made
ready, and a dozen other things done that I thought might
have been done long before.
" ' There goes flukes!' yelled the mast-head man.
"That meant that the whale had turned his tail up
into the air and headed for the bottom. Well, anyhow,
you must know that once whales are sighted a whaler
lowers away her boats, because the whales soon come up
again. The whales had been sighted under our lee about
two miles away, so as soon as the boats were in the
water we got sail on them, and began to run down the
wind. When we got to a place about a quarter of a
mile from where we thought the whale was likely to
come up we hove to and waited. It wasn't long before
I heard a sound like a puff of a river steamboat, and our
boat-steerer said, in a low tone:
" ' There blows! Pull a stroke or two, boys!'
"We started the boat ahead, and then let her run un-
der her canvas, the idea being to come on his hulks from
astern, because you can't run alongside of a sperm-whale
from abeam. His eye is fixed so he can see abeam, but
not astern. We soon found out, though, that the first
mate's boat was a good deal nearer to the brute than we
were, so we rested on our oars and watched them go in.
They sailed down pretty close, and then ran alongside
under oars. The harpooner stood up, and let fly his
iron, and the whale hove his tail into the air and went
down — sounded, as they call it. The boat began to tow
ahead a little, and we were watching the performance,
when all of a sudden our eyes were taken to another
sight. Right abreast of us, about half a mile away, the
water burst wide open, and a dark-skinned monster
shot his full length into the air, falling back into the
sea with a terrible crash, and raising as much foam as a
small white squall. That's what they call breaching,
and it's a grand sight, I tell you, when you first see it.
Well, we all braced up and gripped our oars, expecting
an order to pull, but the boat-steerer shook his head.
" ' It's a sulphur-bottom,' says he.
" ' What's a sulphur-bottom?' says I.
" ' It's one kind of a fin-back,' he answers. ' Look at
him and you'll see the fin on his back.'
" ' Ain't fin-backs good for anything?' I asked.
" ' Yes,' says he, ' they try out a heap of oil; but they
say that when they're struck all they do is to run like an
express train.'
"All this time we were drifting down toward the
brute, and I could see that the boat-steerer's eyes were
burning with excitement.
" ' Did you ever see one struck?' I asked.
" 'No,' says he; 'but I'd like to.'
' ' Let's have a go at this fellow,' says one of the other
hands.
' I've half a mind to try it,' said the boat-steerer.
"With that we pulled ahead a few strokes, and that
settled the matter.
' 'Give way, lads,' says he; 'I'll put an iron in that
fellow, and kill him, too, if he tows me to the Cape of
Good Hope.'
" The boat-steerer, you must know, is in the bow of the
boat all this time, and it's he that throws the harpoon.
Well, he tells us that we must let the line run out at first,
just as we would if we'd struck a sperm-whale, and that
after a lot had run out we could check it a little, and get
the boat going. All right. We pulled ahead at a lively
gait. Say, boys, going on to your first whale is a pretty
exciting business, because you can't see him, your back
being turned, but you can hear him spouting and wal-
lowing in the sea. I stole a look over my shoulder, and
I was sorry for it. I was almost scared to death when I
saw the size of the beast. I turned my head away, shut
my eyes, and pulled. Presently I saw the big tail in the
water, right alongside of the boat, it seemed. At the same
instant I heard the boat-steerer's pant of exertion as he
hove the harpoon with all his might. Instantly I heard
the iron plunge into the fish with a sound like a shovel
going into a pile of coal. And then — well, then there
was a marine circus.
" The harpoon line, you know, is coiled in a tub. You
ought to have seen it go out. Mr. Fin-back put his head
level with the surface of the water, and started off like
something crazy. The line went out of the tub so fast
it made us dizzy, and it whizzed around the bow-chock,
where a single turn is taken, so that it smoked. We threw
water on it, and in a few minutes the whale slowed down.
Now we got two turns around the chock, and let him tow
us. And that's where we made our mistake. Say, there
isn't any tow-boat on earth like a fin-back whale. This
one seemed to know what our idea was, and he made up
his mind — if you can say that a whale has a mind — that
he would give us all the fun we wanted. He'd slowed
down, as I was telling you, to what you might call a
little better than steerage-way. As soon as we got those
turns made he seemed to know just what we'd done, and
he started off again.
"At first he went along at a six-knot gait, the whale-
boat dancing over the swells as if she was a fish herself.
Then he opened up a little more and lifted her to an eight-
knot clip. That's hard pulling for a small boat, but he
steadily increased his gait till he worked it up to fifteen
knots. Then he let himself out. Great bacon, how he
did go! The line hummed like a fiddle-string. The bow
of the boat stood right up at an angle of forty-five degrees
on top of the pile of snowy foam it made. The water
hissed past the bulwarks like the boiling of a big tea-
kettle. It made us all sick and dizzy, and we were half
scared to death. How long do you suppose it lasted?
I don't believe it was over five minutes, but I know we
made two miles in that time. But it had to end. No
whale-boat that was ever built would stand such a strain.
Her bows seemed to bend in. Every seam in her opened.
The water rushed in, and she was half full in a couple
of seconds.
" ' Bail her out ! Bail her out!' yelled the boat-steerer.
' What's the use?' says I, bailing all the same. 'She
won't stay bailed.'
' For pity's sake cut the line and let the demon go!'
says another fellow.
' Yes, yes; let him go!? cried the rest.
" The boat-steerer grabbed the axe, which is always
handy in a whale-boat for just such a purpose, and cut
the line. He drove the blade through two strands, and
the others gave way with a report like a gun. The boat
came to so sudden that some of the hands fell backward
'FOR PITY'S SAKE CUT THE LINK AND LET THE DEMON GOT
of? tlie thwarts as if they'd caught crabs. The whale he
just kept 011 going at his terrific speed. He looked like
a first-class torpedo-boat as lie went sizzling away through
the water with our harpoon sticking out of his neck, and
the line streaming away from it like a homeward-bound
pennant. He was out of sight in an amazing way.
Say, a fin-back whale is a real ocean greyhound, boys."
" Waal, Handsome," said Farmer Joe, as the narrator
paused, " what became of you chaps in the boat?"
"I didn't know that you wanted to hear any more
except about the whale," said Handsome. " However, I
suppose a yarn can't end with a boat's crew adrift in a
sieve on the Madagascar whaling-grounds. Well, then,
as soon as the whale had vamoosed, the boat-steerer look-
ed all around for our ship, but she was not in sight.
" ' Well, boys,' says he, ' we must keep this crazy tub
afloat somehow, and trust to their finding us. They're
sure to cruise around and hunt for us.'
"So some of us pulled off our shirts, and ripped them
up to make a sort of oakum to calk the boat. I suppose
some of you may know that a whaleman is the worst-
dressed sailor in the world. He generally takes rags that
no one else would wear, and puts patches 011 them till
you can't tell what they were made out of at first. So
it's easy enough to pull such things apart. We stuffed
the open seams as well as we could from the inside, and
then we set to work to take turns bailing her out so as to
keep her afloat, for she still kept on taking in a consider-
able amount of water. However, we did keep her on top
of the ocean.
"'Now, 'says the boot-steerer, 'there's no use of our
rowing, because we don't know which way to row to meet
the ship.'
"But the men couldn't stand sitting there doing no-
thing, so we just paddled along easily. Night came down
on us and no sign of the ship. Toward morning the
wind began to freshen, and by daylight it was blowing
pretty briskly. Now we found ourselves hard put to it
to keep the boat afloat. She leaked like a mouse-trap,
and we were mighty glad when we sighted a dismasted
wreck drifting down on us. It didn't take us long to see
that it was abandoned, but we decided to board it. We
did so, and found that it was likely to float twelve or
fourteen hours longer. So we made up our minds to let
the boat go, take to the wreck, and build a raft to float us
when the wreck sank. We were working at the raft
when suddenly one of the men yelled,
" 'Sail ho!'
"Sure enough there was a vessel bearing down on us.
She wasn't over three miles away, but we'd been so busy
at our raft that we had not seen her before.
'By hookey!' exclaimed Bill Sudds, 'it's our own
ship!'
' ' So it is !' cried the boot-steerer.
" Then we all set up a cheer. But say, lads, it wasn't
our own ship at all. It was her sister ship, the Two
Cousins,, which had sailed the year before. However,
she took us off the wreck. It was six months before we
saw our own ship again, and what happened to us aboard
the Tivo Cousins I'll tell you some other time."
GRANDFATHER'S ADVENTURES.
BY PAUL HULL.
THE BABOON
RALPH PELL was spending a few days with Grand
father Sterling. Although he lived in the same vil-
lage, and could run in every day to greet the old reiiii'd
sea-captain, it always delighted him to obtain permission
to carry his valise over to " grandpop's " for a short visit,
and take possession of his particular room, on the walls
of which hung many of the trophies and forget-me-nots
that his grandfather had collected in various quarters of
the world, and had brought on shore with him when he
sailed his ship into port for the last time. The boy had
22
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI
been allowed to select from the general stock such arti-
cles as he fancied for the purpose of decorating the room,
which the kindly and indulgent old man called "Ralph's
bunk."
It looked more like a museum than a bedroom. Over
the mantel were arranged with artistic effect a hippopot-
amus-hide shield, a dozen savage-looking spears, and sev-
eral crudely shaped but keen-edged knives. This outfit
had once been the property of a noted Zulu chief. Else-
where on the walls were beautiful specimens of the saw
and sword fish, elephants' tusks, harpoons that had time
and again been buried deep in the body of some giant
whale, and shark-hooks, to which were secured lengths of
strong chain, showing the dents made upon the links by
the formidable jaws and teeth of more than one blood-
thirsty ocean monster. Bows and arrows from New Zea-
land, boomerangs from Australia, narwhal tusks from
polar seas, and many otheii curiosities had a place in the
collection. But the most striking piece of all was a huge
stuffed baboon, standing upright, and holding in one of its
hands a large stone, which it seemed to be throwing.
Ralph was still in the land of dreams when black Sam,
his grandfather's old sea <-<><>k. pounded on his door and
exclaimed, " Six bells am gone, sah, an' de Cap'n say fo'
you ter turn out!"
As Ralph jumped out of bed he saw by the clock over
the mantel-piece that it was a few minutes past seven, so
he was obliged to make a hasty toilet in order to join his
grandfather for the letter's regular exercise up and down
the piazza before breakfast.
" Grand pop," said Ralph, as they sat at the table en-
joying the tasty dishes that Sam knew so well how to
prepare, "every curiosity you own seems to have an in-
teresting history, so I wouldn't be surprised if that big
baboon in my room was no exception."
A far-away look crept into the old seaman's eyes. He
was silent for a few moments, then he said :
"You are right, Ralph; it has a history, and a very
peculiar one. We will go up to your room shortly, and
I will tell it to you."
After Grandfather Sterling had made his customary
" morning inspection," as he called it, of the grounds and
out-buildings, he went up to Ralph's room and looked at
the subject of his story.
"Well, old fellow," said he. "I'm going to tell Ralph
something about your bad character, and I've come up
here so as to show him how pleasant you looked when I
first made your acquaintance." Then he seated himself
in a quaint bamboo chair that he had brought home from
India, and commenced:
"A good many years ago I was captain of a fine little
clipper-ship called The Merry Maiden, which the owners
chartered to a party of scientists from one of our great
institutions, who proposed to explore a small island known
as Anno Bom, situated in the Gulf of Guinea. We made
a fairly quick voyage out, considering that we were
obliged to navigate through the Belt of Calms, and as the
island is only four miles long by one and a half miles in
breadth, our party completed their examination in about
one month.
"A day or two before the time set for sailing I sent
the boats on shore with all our empty casks for the pur-
pose of filling them up with fresh water for our home-
ward voyage, and as the hunting was excellent, I de-
termined to try my luck in the woods just back of the
beach. The taxidermist of the expedition, Professor Wil-
kins, asked permission to accompany me, so as to add, if
possible, to the collection that he had made since the ar-
rival of the ship, and as he was a most congenial com-
panion, I gladly gave my consent.
" We had worked our way well across the island with
out sighting anything worth firing at, when certain in-
ward pangs in the region of our belts told us that lunch-
time was at hand. After doing ample justice to the ex-
cellent meal that the steward had put up for us, we
stretched ourselves on the long grass under a grove of
wild orange- trees, and were rapidly drifting off into a nap,
when we were brought to our senses by a confused grunt-
ing and chattering, and almost immediately from be-
tween the trees quite close to us came a half-dozen baby
baboons and a little negro boy about three years of age,
who gambolled and grunted away as playfully as the
rest, seeming to find all the enjoyment he wanted in the
society of his animal friends. The Professor leaned tow-
ard me and whispered:
"'They have stolen that baby, and it is growing up
into a baboon like its associates. I have read of such
things. Let us rescue it and rush for the boats, for the
old baboons must be near by. and they are very fierce
when roused, and will be sure to fight us.'
" We waited for a moment, until the little company
had come close to our tree in their play, then we made a
dash for the child. As quick as a flash they all scattered,
setting up frightened shrieks ; but the Professor caught
the boy, and started on a run through the woods, I follow-
ing. The way that little human monkey struggled and
scratched was a caution, but the Professor held on to
him. and his long legs had almost reached the edge of
the woods, quite a distance in advance of me, when I
heard an angry roar behind, and a huge baboon bounded
by, giving me an ugly side look as he passed, as much as
tn say. ' I'll take care of you, my chap, after I've settled
with the other thief.'
"It may have been my shout of warning that startled
him so as to cause the accident, but., at any rate, the next
thing I saw was the Professor pitch forward and roll over
and over in the grass, holding safely through it all to his
captive. I put out all the speed that there was left in
me, but the baboon won the race, and just as the brave
man struggled to his knees the enraged beast picked up
a large stone and raised it to dash upon his unprotected
head. At the same instant I brought my gun to the
shoulder, pressed the trigger, and the baboon pitched life-
less at the Professor's feet.
" We took the boy, together with the big monkey and
the stone, which was locked in his hand, off to the ship,
where the baboon was stuffed and presented to me by the
man whose life had nearly paid the penalty of its anger.
"Knowing that there was a small settlement of Por-
tuguese negroes at the eastern end of the island, we made
a journey there the next day. and were delighted to find
the mother of the boy. She had lost it about a year be-
fore, and had long since given up hope of ever seeing it
again, believing that it had wandered into the woods close
by, and had been killed by the wild hogs that abounded
on the island. And that, my boy," concluded the old
sailor, "is the history of your roommate over there in
the corner."
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.
•BY \V. J. HENDERSON.
CHAPTER III.
PREPARING TO OBEY.
/~1 EORGE tore open the envelope addressed to him,
\Jf and read as follows:
BUREAU ov NAVIGATION, NAVY UI-PARTMENT, Juin: 20, 1893.
Xaval Cadtt GVojy/p Briscoinb:
You will immc'cli:iH'ly report for duty to Commander Willard II.
Brownson, aboard the U.S.S. Detroit, now at Norfolk.
FRANCIS M. RAMSAY,
( '/tit /' of Bureau of Navigation and Officf of Detail.
" The Detroit .'" exclaimed Harold.
"The Detroit!" cried George. "We'll be shipmates!"
NOVEMBER 13, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
23
" Are you ordered to her too?"
" Yes, and immediately."
" That's simply too flue for anything," said Harold.
"I congratulate you two fellows," said Frank, rather
sadly.
•'Frank,'1 said George, "I'm awfully sorry you're not
going with us."
"So am I," added Harold; "but you know it was not
to be expected that the kings down at Washington would
consider our wishes. We are in the service, and we
must obey orders."
" But, boys," suddenly exclaimed Captain Lockwood,
"didn't I read somewhere lately that the Detroit was to
be ordered to the South Atlantic station?'1
"Is that so?" cried George.
"Wait a moment," said Harold. "I read that too,
but I am quite sure I have read since that the order had
been countermanded, and that she was to remain on the
North Atlantic station."
"But even that would mean a voyage to the West
Indies in the fall," said Captain Lockwood, "and down
there you might get on the track of my boy."
"You may depend on one thing, sir," said Harold,
earnestly; " we have made up our minds to help you look
for your son, and wherever we go we'll leave no stone
unturned to find him."
Captain Lockwood grasped the boy's hand and shook
it heartily.
And now began a time of bustle and hurry, for the
orders said " immediately," and that meant that they
must be obeyed within twelve hours.
" The first thing to do is to answer, isn't it?" asked
George.
"Of course," said Harold. "Hurry up, too; we've
lots to do."
Some regulation navy paper and two dignified while
envelopes were procured, and then the two boys sat down
and wrote letters like this:
NEW YrmH, June 21, 1893.
SIR, — I IKIVC the honor to acknowledge tlie receipt of the Bureau's
order of the 20th for duty aboard the U.S.S. Detroit, and will pro-
ceed in obedience thereto.
I am, very respectfully, your obedient servant,
HAROLD KING,
K,u;d Cadet, U.8.N.
To Commodore Franris M. Ramsay, U. S N.,
Chief of the Bureau of Navigation and Office of D flail.
"There!" said Harold, as he sealed his up; "now I'll
go right out and post these, and at the same time hunt
up a railway guide, and see at what time we can start for
Norfolk."
"And while you're gone," responded George, "I'll be
getting our things together."
"I'll help you, if you'll let me," said Minnie.
" It won't take long," answered Harold, laughing, as he
went out.
"A sailor don't need much dunnage," Captain Lock-
wood said.
Frank stood at the window, drumming on a pane of
glass with impatient fingers.
"Come, Frank," said George, "be a good fellow and
help me to pack up."
"All right," he answered; "but you mustn't blame
me for feeling sore because I'm not going with you."
"I don't; but just think, you may be ordered to the
New York when she goes into service."
"Not much chance of that. Those gilt-edged berths
are only for the elect."
A few moments later Harold came briskly in, with a
fine color in his cheeks and a bright light in his eyes.
"It's all right," he said; "we can leave at ten o'clock
to-night, and be there early in the morning. I've got an
expressman who has agreed to take our trunks down at
that outrageous hour. But I wonder what's the matter
with me: I feel so light?"
"I'll tell you, "said Captain Lockwood: "You're hol-
low. You haven't had your dinner."
"But it's all ready now," said Minnie.
Captain Lockwood led the way to the dining-room, and
for a few minutes they were all silent as they attacked
the smoking dishes which had been prepared under Min-
nie's supervision.
"There!" said George, as he laid down his napkin at
the close of the meal: "trunks packed and ready to go;
boys packed too, and department informed. I guess
there's nothing more to do."
"Yes," said Harold, "there's one thing more. We
must go and telegraph to our mothers."
"That's so!" cried George, jumping up. "Come on,
Hal; let's go and do that right away."
And George rushed out, followed with less haste by
his more deliberate classmate.
CHAPTER IV.
PETER MORRIS, COCKSWAIN.
"How delighted my mother will be when she gets
this!" exclaimed George, as he hastily scribbled his de-
spatch.
"I don't know that my mother will be so remarkably
glad, "said Harold.
"Why noi '."
" Because I think she had a little hope that I would be
kept ashore long enough for her to make a trip to the
East and spend a week or two with me."
"Well," said George, speaking slowly and rather
thoughtfully, "I don't know but my mother would have
liked pretty well to see me before I got under way for
blue water: but who knows? We may be tied up in a
navy-yard for two or three months, and so our mothers
may manage to come and see us, after all."
"That's so, Geordie," said Hal, speaking affectionately.
"You have a happy way of seeing tilings at their
best."
" Oh, I suppose that's because I don't like to look at
them the other way."
" We must make a move," said Harold ; " we have none
too much time to spare."
As the boys passed out of the telegraph -office they
noticed a man in the dress of a United States sailor stand-
ing on the sidewalk, staring through the window. The
man turned, and pulling ott' his cap, scratched his head.
Then he said.
"Beggin" yer pardon, gentlemen, could ye tell me wot
the time are?"
"Yes, my lad," said Harold, pleasantly; "it's half past
eight. Can't you see the clock in the telegraph-office?"
" Oh, sure ! I sees the clock all right, but wot I doesn't
see are the time. Them there new-fangled figurations
on the frontispiece o' a clock ain't no good fur to steer by
at all. I reckon I'd run foul o' midnight if I was a-hunt-
in' fur the fust dog-watch by one o'them figurated clocks."
Harold and George smiled, and were about to pass on,
when the man turned again and spoke:
" Beggin' yer pardon the second time, I'd like to know
wot are the nearest way to the Pennsylvauy Railroad
ferry. I reckon my dunnage are down there, an' it are
my opinion that I ought to be there too."
Harold looked at the embroidered mark on the man's
sleeve, and saw that he was rated a cocks wain. " Cocks') i."
he said, "you just walk down to the end of the block,
and take a car going to your left, and it'll take you
within a block of the ferry."
" Thank ye kindly, sir," said the man. " Cocks'n I are,
an' cocks'n I'm likely to be. An' my name are Peter
Morris, at your sarvice, sir. An' so good-night."
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"WHY, LOOK! ... THE COCKSWAIN IS IN TROUBLE NOW."
With that the sailor started at a rapid though lumber-
ing guit in the direction indicated.
"I always feel sorry for a sailor wandering about a
great city at night," said Harold.
"Why?" asked George.
'' Because he's sure to come to grief."
" I don't see why."
''It's the nature of the species. Why, look! Our
friend the cockswain is in trouble now."
George's eyes followed the direction in which Harold's
finger was pointing, and s;iw that the cockswain had got
into an altercation with three men not more than half
a block aw:iy. The warfare of words lasted only a few
seconds, and then one of the three men aimed a blow
at the sailor, who instantly began to lay about him most
vigorously .
"Come on!" cried George, breaking into a run, " or
he'll be murdered.''
"We may miss our train, and not get to Norfolk in
time, "exclaimed Harold; " but we mustn't stand by and
see a Jacky beaten this way.''
The two boys went down the street at a swinging trot,
taking care not to wind themselves, and to husband their
strength for the en-
counter which lliey felt
must now take place.
"Stop that!" cried
Harold, as he and
George came up to the
struggling men.
A fierce reply was ut-
tered by one of the
cockswain's assailants,
who at once made a des-
perate lunge with his
right fist at Harold. The
boy sprang aside, and
countered on the ruf-
fian's jaw with unpleas-
ant force.
"That's it!" cried Pe-
ter Morris, the cock-
swain; "let him have
it broadside fur broad-
side. I kin sink this
'ere slob, if you gentle-
men '11 ram the others."
Harold and George
engaged the attention of
the other two assail-
ants, and for a few min-
utes the battle waged
hotly. Both boys bad
their blood up, and they
were making good use
of scientific boxing
learned at Annapolis.
The roughs who had as-
saulted the sailor were
beginning to show signs
of distress, and the
cocksvyain cried exult-
ingly:
"Strike yer colors,
ye slobs! Don't ye
know when you're
licked?"
" Hit 'irn with yer brass knuckle, Jimmy!" cried one of
the fellows.
" No, you don't!" exclaimed George, driving his right
fist into the man's face.
"Cops!" cried another of the men.
At that very moment, when victory seemed to be cer-
tain for our young friends, two policemen came running
up, and before the boys and the sailor could recover from
their amazement one of the roughs had made a complaint
against them, and they found themselves under arrest
and marched off to the police station.
" Waal, "exclaimed Peter Morris, "as my mother used
to say when she were a-mashin' pertaters, 'This are sim-
ply crushin'.' "
At the station one of the roughs told a remarkable story
of how the sailor had tried to snatch his watch, and how
the two young men had come up and joined in the assault
on them when the}- tried to defend themselves. As for
Peter he was so astounded that he told a miserably bung-
liner story of the real act — an attempt to snatch his
pocket-book which he had incautiously exposed — and the
sergeant on duty said the seaman was drunk, and ordered
all three of them to be locked up for the night on a gen-
eral charge of assault and battery.
"But we shall miss our ship!" exclaimed Harold.
"Miss your ship! You never saw a ship. "said the
sergeant, contemptuously. "Take them down and lock
them in."
[TO BK CONTINUED.]
NOVEMBER 13, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
25
THE DRAWING LESSOX.— ENGRAVED BY C. BAUDE, AFTER A PAINTING BY C. W. BITTE.
26
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
THE SONG OF THE ANVIL.
LISTEN to the .anvil's clang-
In the gray old blacksmith shop!
What a clear and bell-like ring,
What an even steady swing!
How it never seems to step -
Thirang ! — thwaiig ! — tkicang !
Beating out the sparks of lire ;
Forging iron shoe and tire;
Hammering the rosy steel
Till it fits the shaft or wheel;
Ringing out so cheerily,
Like a laugh of honest glee.
Sweeter music never rang —
ThwaiHj .' — iliwaiig ! — t/tir«n</.'
Seeins that cheery sound to say :
"Earnest work is happy, ay!
Let the task be what it may,
Do it promptly, do it well,
For to-morrow as to-day,
And heart's joy shall in you swell!
lie who makes an holiest tliiug
Hears the spirit iu him sing.
Nolle so happy, heart and mind,
As the man who serves his kind.
Not a task so humbly planned.
But to do it well is grand."
So tin; blacks;;. ith's anvil sings,
While the hammer on ir rings —
Sings, I take it, not untrue.
Though it only shape a shoe!
Well, if in its sturdy clang
We can find a lesson too —
How to make life's anvil peal
With the gladness that v> e feel,
Like the blacksmith's honest steel —
Thwani/ .' — ,'/i iru»</ .' — tliiciiiiij .'
JAMES BUCKHAM.
PRIVATE THEATRICALS, AND HOW
TO GET THEM UP.
BY EDWARD FALES COWARD.
I.— THE STAGE IN THE PARLOR.
V\7ITH the wonderful growth of popular interest in
V i dramatic matters, there is hardly a town or hamlet
in the United States that does not boast of its opera-house
or theatre. No place is too small to attract some travel-
ling show during each season, and, as a consequence,
almost every citizen of this great republic has at some
time, either directly or indirectly, had brought home to
him the glare, glitter, and fascination that belong to the
mimic world of behind the scenes.
How many boys and girls have seen a theatrical repre-
sentation, and not longed to act it over again among them-
selves? How many have riot longed to give a play, an
original play, with all the paraphernalia of a real theatre,
with curtain, foot-lights, and scenery? The purpose of
this article is to tell the readers of HARPER'S YOUNG PEO-
PLE how they may erect a well-appointed play-house at
the least possible cost, and how, to their parents' peace of
mind, a stage and accessories may be put up in a private
house without injuring walls or ceilings. In a subse-
quent article the work of preparing, rehearsing, and pro-
ducing a play will also be explained in detail, and then
the plays published in coming numbers can be under-
taken by our readers.
In most private houses, the parlor, in point of size and
con veuience, especially if the outside public isjto be in-
vited, makes the best room for conversion into a theatre.
GROUND 1'LAN OF STAGE.
or a large garret, if tliere is sufficient head room, may
also be used. Precaution should be taken in selecting a
place for a stage to see that behind it there is some method
of access with other parts of the house, that the ordinary
living-rooms may be made available for dressing-rooms,
property-rooms, make-up-rooms, etc.
A raised stage is very desirable, even though it en-
tails additional cost. It will not only add material-
ly to the comfort of the spectators, but will conduce
very much to the players' effects. A simple way to erect
a solid platform, that will do away with horses and ex-
pensive cross supports, ,, c|^-c|irop
which would need the aid —
of a practical carpenter, is
to utilize starch, soap, or
canned-goods boxes of a
similar size. Taking it for
granted that the width of
the average room at the
disposal of the actors is 18 feet, get, say, 15 soap-boxes,
and place 5 of them end to end in three rows, thus: Along
the side of each section of boxes nail a strip of wood to
keep the three separate rows in place. Place the two
outside rows about three inches from the baseboard on
either side of the room. Then take hemlock boards (they
are the cheapest), and saw them in lengths two inches
shorter than the width of the room. Lay them at right
angles over the box supports, and fix them to the same.
Screws are to be preferred, as the stage can then easily
be taken up and put down again. Following out these
instructions, a stage free from spring should be the result.
The cost would be: 15 boxes at 5 cents. 75 cents; 3 pieces
of strip, 25 cents; 225 feet of hemlock, $4 50; screws, 25
cents. Total. s.~> 75.
Singe clothes are a very desirable adjunct. If possible,
the boards should be covered with a green or brown
cloth, the thicker the better, in order to deaden the sound
of feet on the wood. These colors are preferable because
they represent either the earth or the greensward. For
an interior they make a good ground-work, on which
may be placed rugs of varying size.
The most important and at the same time most difficult
parts of a theatre for an amateur to build are the frame-
work of the proscenium and the outline of the stage by
which the scenery is supported. The proscenium is the
covered front of the stage which, with the curtain, shuts
off the mysteries behind from the spectators in front.
Against the boxes at either side of the room, about a
foot or eighteen inches from the edge of the same, nail
or screw uprights two inches wide by an inch thick.
These uprights should reach to within an inch of the
ceiling. Take then a piece of wood, just short of the
width of the room, and covering it with something soft,
like Canton flannel, stretch it across the ceiling of the
room, driving the ends over the uprights, making a close
joint. Two similar uprights two feet from the side
edges of the stage should then be placed in position.
Brace them to the stage, and have them of a length that
when bent under the cross-piece stretching across the
ceiling they will be firm. Braces as shown in the ac-
companying diagram should be used to impart the neces-
sary solidity to a structure which must bear the weight
of the curtain.
If the stage is eighteen feet deep, nine feet from its outer
edge (the foot-lights) erect similar uprights on the out-
side, with a cross-piece running the width of the room,
covered, as before, with Canton flannel. At the extreme
rear of the stage this arrangement should again be re-
peated, stays or braces being used to give it additional
strength. The three uprights on either side of the stage
should then be braced by a board two inches wide and
au inch thick, running the full depth of the stage. By
following out these instructions the entire stao-e will
NOVEMBER 13, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
lli us lie outlined by a light but firm frame-
work, capable of standing such strain as
may be put upon it by scenery, draperies,
changings. It is almost impossible to
stretcb wires or ropes from wall to wall
and get a satisfactory result. They are
sure to sag, and will present a most un-
businesslike effect. The method proposed,
of course, entails work and some carpenter-
ing skill, but really half the fun of ama-
teur theatricals is in devising effective
substitutes for the conveniences to be
found in an ordinarily well-appointed the-
atre.
The proscenium must now be covered
and the curtain hung. If any one in the
household has an artistic bent, the decora-
tion of this part of the theatre will give
his fancy an excellent outlet. The mate-
rial used to cover this outer frame should
be as light as possible. If the stuff is to be
painted, white unbleached muslin — or cot-
ton cloth, as it is sometimes called — is recommended.
This
should first be sized, and water-colors used. If there is
110 artistic talent to draw upon, something like Canton
flannel may be used ; the artistic colors it now comes in
make it possible to produce with a curtain of a different
shade some very pleasing effects. If possible, a curve
effect should be given to the cloth which stretches across
the opening.
The curtain once sewed together in perpendicular
strips, brass rings should be sewed in (live lines equi-
distant every six inches from top to bottom). The top of
the curtain should then be securely attached to the cross-
piece of wood run n ing1 the width of the room, and attached
to the bottom should be- a piece of batten (a stick of wood
or gas-pipe). This batten should be wider than the pro-
scenium opening, so as to prevent the curtain from get-
ting out of place.
Calling the left hand side of the stage as you face the
audience the prompt -side — that is, the place where the
man who prompts and runs the curtain stands — strong
white cord is attached to the extreme right end of the
batten. It is then passed up through the little brass
rings sewed to the curtain, and through large screw-
eyes attached to the cross-piece of the proscenium arch.
At the left end of this cross-piece should be a large screw-
eye, through which the cord descends to the curtain-man's
hand. Another cord should then be similarly attached
to the batten at the foot of the next row of brass ring*.
and so on through the screw-eyes at the top down to the
curtain-man. Similar cords should then be fixed wher-
ever there is a row of brass rings. The ends of the vari-
ous cords should then be tied together, leaving plenty of
slack to twist around a cleat on the prompt-side, that they
may be made fast when the curtain is up. By this ar-
rangement the cords, when pulled, will draw the curtain
up in a satisfactory manner; but the man working them
THE BOXES PREPARED FOR THE STAGE.
FltAME Full PltOSCKNIBM.
should see that the cords retain their relative positions,
otherwise the curtain might not fold evenly.
The proper arrangement of lights is absolutely indis-
pensable for artistic effects. It is most desirable that it
should be thrown upon the faces. It shows -off the
expression better. Light from above is apt to cast
shadows. If there is gas in the house, and the connec-
tion can be easily made, it is most suitable for foot-light
uses. The fact that it can be controlled makes it doubly
advantageous. In this way effects of nature can be
simulated, and entrances of characters upon darkened
scenes with lighted lamps or caudles made entirely real-
istic.
In arranging the foot-lights every care should be taken
to provide against danger from fire. Have the board
which covers the supports of your stage from the eyes of
those in front reach about four inches above the stage.
Line the inside of this elevation above the stage with tin,
and have the tin extend over the stage its full width,
about eight inches, to the rear. This will not only pro-
tect the wood-work thereabouts, but will act as a reflector
as well. In proportion to your other expenses your foot-
lights and accessories will probably cost you quite a little
sum, but the outlay will be warranted by the results you
will obtain from having a practical plant. Go to a
plumber, and get him to take a piece of regulation-size
gas-pipe, cut it off the width of your proscenium opening,
and close one end. Then at intervals of eighteen inches
have him bore holes in it. inserting in each hole an ordi-
nary gas plug. It will not pay you to have too many of
these jets, because as you will get your gas supply from
one ordinary burner, there will not be force enough to
give you very many flames of any considerable size. Set
this pipe on the tin, and fix it firmly by means of hasps
and small wooden blocks, so that there is no danger of
its toppling over. To the open end of the pipe affix a
rubber tubing, tying tightly the joint, that there may be
no leakage, and have the pipe run to the nearest side « a 1 1
gas-bracket, first removing the tip of the same, that the
gas may have as free a flow as is possible. See to it that
the tubing passes to the bracket in a way that will pre-
vent its being stepped upon, otherwise your lights will
be extinguished, and, very probably, your efforts as well.
The ordinary stop-cock on the bracket will thus enable
you to regulate the amount of light you wish to throw
upon the performers and the scene. If it is not possible
to surround each foot-light with a little bulbous wire
screen, stretch some wire netting, such as is used on hen-
coops, from the top of the piece of wood which screens
the light from the eyes of the audience to the rear of the
tin sheathing.
28
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
Wi'dtK of St
3 fecf
THK BACK DROP.
If a gas connection is impossible, lamps may be substi-
tuted at regular intervals, or candles. If the latter are
used, those of paraffine that come sixteen to the pound
should be utilized. Of course neither of these methods
will permit you t^get graduated effects of light.
Scenery is the next important element to be considered.
With that arranged for, your theatre will then be ready
for practical use.
The usual piece adapted for amateur representation lias
its action take place in-doors. Many a good play lias to be
abandoned by beginners because it is impossible for them
to rig up anything that will pass current for a wood,
landscape, or seascape, as a view of the coast is called.
The selection of a play which will lend itself readily to
mounting by amateurs will be treated more fully in a
subsequent article. As a general proposition it may be
stated that for a beginning, anyway, a piece had better
be selected which calls for an in-door scene.
If extreme simplicity is desired, the use of a back-drop
and wings is recommended. If there is to be more than
one play, both requiring interiors, it is more desirable to
use the same background — much time will be thereby
saved — and etfect the changes by the use of different
hangings, furniture, and bric-a-brac.
The back-drop had better be made on a frame in two
pieces, covered with unbleached muslin — cotton cloth. A
serviceable arrangement would be to make this frame-
work on the outline shown in the diagram.
(a.) Open space for window. (6.) Open space for door.
THE COMPLETED PROSCENIUM WITH FOOTLIGHTS.
The material used should be (if possible) pine-wood
strips, two inches wide, and one inch thick. The joints
and corners must of course be carefully squared to make
a good fit. The frame should then be covered with the
cotton cloth, and if the interior to be used is to represent
a drawing-room or bedroom, no better method can be
devised than to cover tins surface with some appropriate
wall-paper. For the door and the window separate
frame -work will of course have to be made. Paint-
ing these to represent the real articles will require a
study of originals. For the wings, for the average
depth of stage in a private house, two on either side will
be sufficient. They should be made of the same material
as the back frame, and should be similarly covered. To
screen the sides they
should be placed at an
angle to the footlights.
For a box scene the
sides should be made sim-
ilar to the mounted back
frame as just described,
arranging them in the
matter of doors and win-
dows as the action of the
average play calls for.
This means, as a rule,
that there should be at
least one door on each
side. If necessary, a door
opening can very readily
be converted into a win-
dow opening to the
ground. For modern in-
teriors it is useless to use
other than wall - paper,
and for even mediaeval
interiors something ap-
propriate in the line can A DOOR.
readily be obtained.
A kitchen or a garret can also be made out of wall-
paper if the amateur scenic artist at hand finds himself
unable to cope with the requirements of such a scene.
If a palace interior is required, his utmost skill will be
demanded. He had better take as a model some picture
from a book. The one freest from architectural ornate-
ness is advised. The back frame once covered — as a rule,
the entrance in it should be in the centre, and have an
arch — the cotton cloth should first be sized, and then
allowed to dry. Sizing is a mixture composed of size,
water.andglue, and is laid on with abroad
brush similar to that employed by white-
wasliers. For coloring purposes dry wa-
ter-colors must be used.
As before stated, many a clever little
play is barred from an amateur's reper-
toire because an interior scene represent-
ing a garden or wood is required. To
paint Nature in her original mood is a
severe task for any amateur artist. It is
now possible to buy such scenes printed
on separate sheets of paper, which can be
pasted like wall-paper on some covered
frame. A garden 15 feet wide by 8 feet
high, with wings and borders complete,
will cost $7 50. One 20 by 11^ will cost
S10. Wood scenes in similar sizes cost
the same.
This practically completes the work-
ing outfit of an amateur theatre. How
to get a play ready for presentation, and
how to run the stage on the night of a
performance, will be described in a suc-
ceeding paper.
NOVEMBER 13, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
29
A GARRISON ON THE TOPS OF THE ALPS.
T^HE military situation in Europe has readied the
point now where it is considered, if not necessary, at
least advisable, to keep troops on the very highest moun-
tain-tops in order to meet and oppose the enemy if he
should choose that rather difficult approach to make an in-
vasion. Both France and Italy have regularly organized
regiments of Alpine soldiers who are armed, in addition
to their rifles and revolvers, with alpenstocks, ice-picks,
and ropes; and these men camp in summer and in winter
on high peaks and glaciers, watching the frontier to see
that no unfriendly move is begun by their neighbors.
In the summer- time the Alpine corps makes difficult
mountain ascensions, and the engineers draw plans of
the surrounding country, and look for available passes
between the higher peaks. Many hundred men are en-
gaged in this work, so that the ice and snow clad Alps
are almost as well plotted and mapped as the plains and
fertile fields of the lowlands.
But in the autumn, when the weather begins to get
wintry and the storms in the hig-h mountains grow fiercer,
the main body of Alpine troops is recalled into the val-
leys, and the soldiers go into winter-quarters.
The mountain posts, however, cannot be left ungar-
risoned, and so a certain number of volunteers are ap-
pointed every year to spend the long winter months far
above human habitations and away from all intercourse
with their fellow-men. These posts are almost as isolated
as if they were at the north pole, and they are pretty
nearly as cold.
One of the principal stations is on the Grande Turra,
a very high mountain which can be found oil any
good map of France and Switzerland near Mont Cenis,
under which passes the famous tunnel of the same name.
The barracks on the Grande Turra stand 7500 feet above
the sea-level. The highest inhabited spot in this coun-
try is the signal station on top of Pike's Peak, and that
is 14.147 feet above the sea-level.
Thirty Alpine soldiers, with a lieutenant and two ser-
geants, make up the garrison for these lonely barrack's.
and they go up into the region of perpetual snow about
the middle of October. Their quarters are low houses
built of stone, with very thick walls. The houses are
grouped about a small court, with the officer's house op-
posite the entrance, and the men's quarters and the
store-house on either side. A little to the rear is a snug
stable, where a few mules, which do heavy work for the
soldiers, are kept, and with them half a dozen goats that
are depended upon to furnish the garrison with milk.
The nearest village is several miles away, and consists
of only a few shepherds' huts. But at the hamlet of
Lanslebourg there are some more of the Alpine troops,
and they form a supply and aid station for the iso-
* VE^JS^.M^ra
'
DRAGGING WATER AFTER A STORM.
lated men high up above them. About once a month
during the winter, if it is possible for a mule to struggle
up the icy trail to the Grande Turra post, fresh meat and
vegetables and letters and newspapers are taken up to the
garrison. But sometimes such fierce wind and snow
storms rage around these bleak mountain-sides that it is
impossible to make way through the drifts for weeks and
weeks. During that time the men in the Grande Turra
garrison eat canned provisions, and remain in their little
stone houses listening to the wind and sleet howling
outside.
The principal work of the soldiers in the winter is to
keep open the trail to the valley below, and to keep
their quarters from being' entirely smothered under
by snowdrifts. The labor of keeping the path open is
the hardest. After every storm the men
go out with picks and shovels, and toss
the accumulated snow aside, heaping it up
to the right and to the left, until the trail
actually seems to run along the bottom of
a trench. At some points the road is so ex-
posed to drifts and landslides that in order
to protect it tunnels are built of snow and
ice blocks, or else dug right through a drift.
Some of the tunnels are over nine hun-
dred feet long, and once built they will
last all winter. They are made high
enough and broad enough to admit of the
passage of the mule which carries up the
provisions from Lanslebourg.
Fresh water is obtained from a well situ-
ated some three hundred yards from the bar-
racks, and is usually carried to camp in
skins on muleback. But after a stoim, or
30
HAKPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
when the path is so heavy that it is impossible for the
mules to work, then the men must put a barrel on a
sled and haul the water up the icy mountain-side them-
selves.
Yet in spite of all the loneliness of their situation, the
thirty Alpine soldiers manage to get some fun out of life.
They have books to read and games to play in-doors, and
they also have a mechanical piano. On fair days, when
it is possible to go out, they indulge in snowball lights
and in sliding down the steep hill-sides near the barracks.
Their way of sliding is to sit astride of a snow-shovel,
using the handle as a steering tongue, and so race with
one another over all sorts of dangerous places. When
the weather appears to be settled for a few days, the
lieutenant in command takes his men out on trips in the
neighborhood, and observations are made to find out
what would be the best routes for troops to take in heavy
weather if the journey were necessary.
Toward the end of April the snow begins to melt, and
the ice tunnels thaw away. The road is kept clear more
easily, and the mule from Lanslebourg conies more fre-
quently- A month later the summer has set in, and a
new detachment comes up the mountain to relieve the
patient fellows who have passed nine months in the great
solitudes where there were no other living Creatures to
be heard or seen.
A NATIONAL INSECT FACTORY.
BY J. EDWAKD JENKS.
WAS in a bug factory the other day," said the
traveller, as the boys gathered around him after
supper. "Yes, a real bug factory; a place where they
make bugs," he continued, as everybody yelled. "It
belonged to1 the United States government, but I knew
the man who built the establishment, and he let me go
in and look at the interesting little creatures who live
there. I call it a. bug factory, but the scientists who work
there, and who spend nearly all their time there, give the
better-sounding name of insectary. It is located in Wash-
ington, and is a small but important part of the Depart-
ment of Agriculture there. You know that department
looks after all matters in which farmers take any inter-
est. The official at the head of the Agricultural Depart-
ment is one of the President's cabinet, so, you see, the
office is a great one. The President is —
"But tell us about the bug factory," begged one of the
traveller's nephews.
" Well, the ' factory ' is hidden in a large grove, raised
with much patience and care by expert tree-growers, and
is quite a walk from the Capitol, where the laws are
made, and from the large glaring white mansion where
the President lives. After you have wandered about
some of the big department, buildings in Washington,
this little place" of which I will tell you looks like a toy
dwelling with a long glass-roofed L to it. The main
building is a cozy house, where the scientific books are
kept, and where the scientists do their studying and writ-
ing. The men who are employed here are called ento-
mologists, and they make a special study of insects.
There is always something to learn about the insects of
the world, and hardly one matter is thought out before
there is another subject requiring study.
" The government insectary is used for the cultivation
and study of inserts which prey upon plants, trees, and
vegetables. There is a huge army of these kinds of pests,
and they do great damage to nature, besides putting men
to all sorts of dangers, trouble, and expense. Sometimes
an insect will reach this country, no one knows from
what place, and will increase in numbers so that the
horde will actually eat up vast fields of hardy corn, and
destroy, almost while I am telling you of it, the work of
days. If this sort of thing were allowed to go unchecked
we would probably be eaten out of house and home by
the little creatures which you can hardly see with a pow-
erful microscope.
"The scientists not only closely watch the methods of
living of these troublesome insects, but they find out
what will drive them away or kill them. It woutd be a
difficult matter to find out all this if the entomologist
had to go out into the field and lie around among the
plants and vegetables. It would be a long and tiresome
work for him, and if he were in some parts of the coun-
try, while he was watching a very small worm something
a good deal larger than himself might be waiting for
him.
"This was the reason that the government built its
bug factory. It wanted to raise insects, see how they
lived, what they ate, how they changed in form, and find
out what would finally destroy them. You can see how
important all this information would be to a man who
had every year been bothered by insects he could hardly
see, and whose potatoes and strawberries were being eaten
by a hungry army which paid nothing for the feast.
"The long room in which the insects are kept is built
with a roof of glass, lixed with shades so that the amount
of light may he regulated. There are two sections, one
heated to correspond to the weather out-of-doors, and the
other heated to any degree desired. Sometimes it is
necessary to give the occupants of this room a greater
heat than the ordinary temperature. One section is
known as the forcing-room, and here are kept the plants
in pots, while in the centre is a bed of rich soil where
small trees and shrubbery are planted for the study of
insects living upon these forms of vegetation. There are
all sorts of things for the rearing of bugs, such as cages
and jars, and there are two large glass cases filled with
running water, little cascades, for rearing insects which
live in the water; and there is a pitch-dark room, where
some day they hope to experiment with bees.
"The insect is captured and brought to the insectary,
as I shall have to call it now, and placed in a jar or a
cage, or on a plant, where it can grow and change into its
various forms. Its way of feeding, of living upon the
leaf or flower or vegetable, is closely watched, and the re-
sult of its life on the plant is also taken notice of. Then
when the scientists have studied the insect as long as they
want to, when they have found out all the different
shapes he takes during his life, and just how long he will
live if allowed to go undisturbed, the watchers try differ-
ent ways of killing the bug. Sometimes it is found
necessary to burn certain plants where all the insects
will congregate at a certain time in their life, and some-
times it is found that certain powders will kill the pests.
"The men who watch these little creatures tind lots
of things to interest them, arid it takes away the weari-
ness of their waiting. They find that marvellous changes
often take place in the insects. Some of them alter their
form so that you would not recognize them for the same
insect. One will at first be a short thick fly, with sharp
eyes, wings, and a minute feeler like an elephant's trunk,
and he will next be a worm without legs and no eyes.
It is always an easy matter to find out what the bug is
doing and what will drive it away, but it is not always
so easy to say where he comes from or how he happened
to appear in certain places. The day I was in the insect-
ary I saw a bug' which had been found in California by
a hoy while eating boiled potatoes, and later his father
found more potatoes in the cellar, which had been dug a
short time before, also inhabited by this same worm. I
was told that this worm had come all the way from
China, probably, nobody knew how. Anyway, a mem-
ber of the unwelcome tribe had reached the in>e<-tarv. and
was a guest there. He was a famous bug, did he but
know it, for he was to be carefully watched, and his ev-
NOVEMBER 13, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
31
;>Mt: '^\s;*v **§&••' ' ''{<7\ jMS
^ "-' - •' •t-SLfJKSSi A"' 't1. ^ •F~A*- • • "SSSSS-S^S;
4- ' • ! ' (tefef ^ 3^fe'~
ery action was to be
noted in a book each
day. He would receive
as much attention as
any great man — prob-
ably more attention, for
hardly any mail has
been closely watched
every day of his life, as
this Chinese bug will
be.
" This particular in-
sect is capable of doing
great damage to pota-
toes, and is the more
dangerous because of
his secretive habits. It
digs its way through
the ground to the pota-
to, for which originally,
it appears, the worm
had no special liking.
It used to live on a
plant called flag, and
is supposed to have ac-
quired a taste for the
potato because flag was
used as a covering for
potato -houses. It also
lives upon tobacco. So
you see it has a variety
of tastes. There was
another insect which I
saw, and which also came from across the continent. It
had travelled all the way from Europe, and fed upon the
olive-tree. It is a difficult insect to see on the bark of the
tree, where large masses of the pests gather. It is cov-
ered with wax, and one of the forms it takes finds it
without legs and without eyes, and a mouth so very
small :us to be almost impossible to perceive.
''There was also a curious worm which fed upon the
sugar beet. It looks like a small caterpillar, and is a
very industrious insect. It is not at all sociable or friend-
ly toward its fellow-worms, and when two of them met
they would strike viciously at each other. After the
caterpillars have served a term of life, they enter the
ground and hide themselves in a little cave, which they
dig for themselves and neatly line with silk of their own
weaving. Then they come forth with wings, and each
takes a mate. They lay eggs, and a new generation is
started.
" Then they showed me other minute creatures, called
weevils, which actually find room to live comfortably in
a pea or beau. The weevils are hatched from very small
eggs, and each one has six legs. Some of them are great
miners, and dig through the pod and into the pea or
bean, where they remain hid, and at last come forth com-
pletely changed, looking this time like a small beetle, and
able to fly, where once they could scarcely crawl.
" While the insectary rears the dangerous insects, it
also cultivates their enemy, known as the parasite. This
creature lives off of the greater pest, and when a beetle
or bug of some kind is found to have a liking for such a
pest as this Chinese worm of which I have told you, the
parasite becomes useful to man, and large numbers of
them are raised and sent to the places where the trouble-
some insects are eating the plants, berries, and vegetables.
Last year in New Zealand that country was overrun with
an insect, and our bug factory sent a little destroyer to
that country which drove out the dangerous pest, and
the people were so grateful that they held a public meet-
ing and thanked this government for its good deed.
" So you see our government does not forget the small
THE INSKCTARY.
matters which have an effect on our daily life, and it
looks after the health of other nations as-well as its own."
And then the boys all trooped to bed to dream of winged
caterpillars which live in the water.
CHANGELINGS.
THE ghosts of flowers went sailing
Through the dreamy autumn air —
The gossamer wings of the milkweed brown,
And the sheeny silk of the thistle-down,
But there was no bewailing,
And uever a hiut of despair.
From the mountain-ash was swinging
A gray deserted nest ;
Scarlet berries where eggs had been,
Softly the flower-wraiths floated in.
And tin.' brook and breeze were singing
When the sun sank down in the west.
MARY TIIATCIIEU HJGGIXSON.
GIVING HIM A CHANCE.
PERSONS who are envious of those whom they are pleased to
call the fortunate rarely count the cost of success. Apro-
pos of this, an amusing story is told of General Lefevre, DnK'1 "t
Dantzic. One day the (leneral had a visit from a friend of his
youth, who commented, nut without feelings of envy, on the
dignities and riches which the IJukc (who was born in a peas-
ant's cottage) had acquired in many battles, and by his faithful
services.
"Oh! I am prepared," was the rejoinder, "to hand them over
to you at the very price I paid for them. We will procei
gether into my garden. There yon shall walk up and down for
the space of half an hour while I command a. company of iufautrj
to lire on yon — there were more in my case, but you shall have
the benefit of altered circumstances. It' yon are not shot in
thirty minutes all that is mine shall be yours."
32
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
,JI-
Jfe
fit: -^ i» I .
**,
- ;" v.4**1 . -"
y «•
" WllV, YOU NAUGHTY OH1I.DRKN, WHAT HAVK YOU BICEN IXUNG ?"
" WB WKUK 1'LAYIN' ROBBERS, AN' I HAD TO COME TllKOUtilJ 1>E
F1RKPLAOB."
DESK.
•' llo\v do you
OVERHEARD IN BOBBIE'S
HULLO, Reader!" said the Spelliug-Book.
feel this morning?"
"Pretty poorly, thank you. Bobbie is a nice boy, but he
hasn't much regard for me. He's taken ten of my pages and
dogeared them so that I almost find myself barking."
"I'm mad at Bobbie," said the Spelliug-Book. "He told a
story about me yesterday. The teacher asked him how to spell
lion, and he said I-y-o-u, and when the teacher said it was 1-i-o-n,
'lie told her that 1 spelled it with a y, which I don't."
"He did something like that with me." said the Reader.
"I've got a story iu me about George Washington, and iu oue
place I say, 'Nowhere do we find a more noble figure, ' and
Bobbie said I said, 'Now here
do we find a nobby figure.'
It's absurd to say I said that."
"Didn't his teacher keep
him in for it ?" asked the
Spelliug-Book
" No ; she got laughing, and
then Bobbie laughed, and ev-
erybody else laughed. As for
me, I was simply mortified to
death," said the Reader.
"He's a queer boy," put in
the Arithmetic. "I've tried
to teach him lots, but he's un-
grateful. Why, what do you
suppose he told his uncle last
week f"
" I haven't an idea," said the
Reader.
" Nor I," said the Spelling-
Book.
" Why, his uncle — you know
his uncle George — one of those
funny uncles that laugh when
they say things," said the Arith-
metic. " lie asked Bobbie
how he liked the multiplica-
tion table, and Bobbie said he
preferred the dinner table."
"How dreadful!" said the
Reader.
"Yes," said the Arithmetic. " Yoii don't learn anything at
the dinner table."
"That's what his uncle George said," put in the Arithmetic,
"but Bobbie said he'd learned lots there. Said he'd learned
how to subtract four cookies from one cake basket, and added
that while in real arithmetic four taken from oue leaves uo-
"thiug, in dinner-table arithmetic you could subtract four cookies
from a cake basket and have the basket left, which be thought
was much pleasauter. Then his uncle asked him it' he liked
division, and he said he'd never studied arithmetic division, but
when he bad to divide an apple with two sisters he hadn't much
use for it."
"What a dreadfully stupid boy!" said the Spelliug-Book.
"There's nothing sharp about him."
"Except his teeth, "moaned the Pencil. " He's all the time
putting me in his mouth and biting my head, and I tell you it
hurts."
"Think of me!" said the Slate-Pencil. "When he uses me on
the slate he pushes me down so hard that he just uses me up in
no time."
"I suppose that's why you squeak so," said the Reader. "I
wish you wouldn't. Your squeaking mixes me np so that e\en
Bobbie can't tell me from his copy-book, which is why all my
blank leaves are marked all over with all sorts of absurd
figures."
"Will,! don't squeak because I like it," said the Slate-Peneil.
"But listen — there goes the bell. We'll have to be quiet now."
And they all arranged themselves neatly iu their accustomed
places, and it wasn't until it came to the arithmetic hour that
the Slate realized that while they were talking tie Sponge had
forgotten to wash his face for him.
THE TONIES-DANISH FOLKLORE.
THE BUCKET IN THE WELL.
THE bucket had fallen into the well of one of the touies.
For a long time he and his neighbors discussed, without
coming to any conclusion, how they. should get it out again;
and finally hit upon the following plan. They laid a pole acrosa
the well, ami agreed that one of their number should hold fast
to it with his hands, that another should hang to this one's fuel,
aud so on, until the last was able to reach the bucket, lint just
as they were all ready, and the one at the bottom was about to
catch hold of the bucket, the hands of the oue at the top began
to hurt him tremendously. He called out to the others, "Wait
just a minute till I spit on my hands!" Then he let go to spit-
on his hands, and — plump down to the bottom of the well they
all went, and were all drowned.
On the far-away banks of the Nile
A little black boy used to smile ;
" Now who can beat me
At a real smile?" said he.
" Can't I ?" said a
large
crocodile.
HARPERS
m
YOUNG PEOPLE
iJ x-
Copj-right, 1894, by HARPKC & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 786.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY. NOVEMBER 20, 1894.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
THE SCRUB QUARTER=BACK.
BY JESSE LYNCH WILLIAMS.
T1OMMY WORMSEY was a meek little boy with an weren't mates and li:id holes in them. When lie skimmed
ugly face, mostly covered with court-plaster, and he over the ground and dived through the air and brought
would rather fall on a football than eat. down a two-hundred and-something-pound guard, with
When he came trotting out upon the field, the college his knotty little anus barely reaching about the big
along the side lilies always smiled at the way he tipped thighs, it looked very absurd, and when he jumped up
his head to one side with his eyes on the ground, as again, yelling "3 — 9 — 64'' in his shrill earnest voice, and
though he was ashamed of himself and of his funny little ran sniffling back to his place, with his sorrowful face seem
bumpy body, stuck into a torn suit and stockings which ing to say, " I know I oughtn't to have let him slide so far,
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI
but please don't scold me this time," the crowd laughed
uproariously, which hurt his feelings.
But he paid very little attention, to anything except
the scrub captain's orders and the admonitions of the
coachers, to whom he said, "Yes, sir," and "I'll try it
that way, sir." He was afraid of them, and looked down
at his torn stockings when they spoke to him. Those of
the crowd along the ropes who knew everything, as well
as the other spectators who only knew a few things, said
that Freshman Wormsey had more sporty blood and
football instinct than any man on the lield. But they
did not know what a coward he was at heart.
More than once when a 'varsity guard had broken
through and jumped on him, and the scrub halves had
fallen on him from the other direction to keep him from
being shoved back, and the other 'varsity guard and the
centre, who were not light, had thrown themselves upon
these, and one of the ends had swung round and jumped
on the top of the pile on general principles. Wormsey, at
the bottom, said " ouch !" under his breath, if be had any.
He weighed 137 pounds stripped.
And at night, after the trick practice with checkers :it
the Athletic Club, he always hurried back to his room,
and stacked the pillows and sofa cushions up in the
•corner of the room, with the black one in the centre, and
taking his place on one knee in the opposite corner,
socked the ball into the pile. Every time he missed the
black one in the centre he called himself names.
Sometimes when he did this he became excited, and
sprang forward and knocked down chairs and tables and
things. But he paid no attention to that. He only grit-
ted his teeth and fell to passing again, and kept it up
sometimes until eleven o'clock, which was a whole hour
later than he had any business to be out of bed.
But there were days when it became tiresome, this con-
stant pound, pound, pound, fall down, get up and pound
again, and once in a while there came dark -times when
he felt that it all didn't pay, which was very unpatriotic
thinking; and the next day, when the crowd yelled, "Well
tackled, Wormsey!" he wondered how he could have been
such a mucker as to think it. But it was rather hard
work for a seventeen-year-old boy whose bones weren't
knit to play two thirty-minute halves every day as hard
as they were doing now, and then practise place kicks
and catching punts afterwards, besides keeping hold of all
the signals and systems and stuff that were drummed into
his little head every evening, along with the rest of the
second eleven, in the room across the hall from the one
where the 'varsity were learning their systems and sig-
nals and tricks.
It'sall well enough for them. They have their 'varsity
sweaters with the big letter on them, and have their pic-
tures printed in the papers, and are pointed out and
praised and petted and fondled and fussed over like blue-
ribboned hunters at the horse show; but for the pour
faithful unappreciated scrub it's a different story. There's
none of the glory, and all work and grind and strain at
the top notch of capacity. And nothing at the end of it
but thanks and the consciousness of doing one's duty by
the college. So about this time, when they were ap-
proaching that critical stage in training which is like
getting one's second wind in a cross-country run, he used
to have some terrible times with himself. If any one
knew what muckerishly cowardly thoughts he had, he
was afraid they'd fire him from college.
He was ashamed of himself, but he couldn't help it. He
was getting sick of training, sick of getting up at seven
o'clock in the morning and hurrying down to breakfast
while the alarm clocks were going off in East and West
colleges, and the frost was still on the grass. Every day,
as soon as the morning recitations were over, no matter
what kind of weather, he must jump into the buss at the
corner of Dickinson Hall, drive down to the grounds, un-
dress and dress again, and hobble out upon the field, and
get his poor little body bumped and pounded and kicked
and trampled on, and the rest of his personality yelled at
by the captain, and scolded by the coachers, who stand
alongside in nicely creased trousers, with canes in their
hands, and call out, "Line up more quickly, scrub,"
which is hard to do\when one's lungs are breathless, es-
pecially when one is a quarter-back, and needs a certain
amount of wind to scream out the signals in a loud
enough tone to keep from being blamed. And that's the
way they make football stuff.
To-day lie let Hartshorn drag him five yards and
missed one tackle outright, and he was discouraged.
After the line-up, while thev were practising him at
catching punts, he seemed to have such bad luck hold-
ing the ball; and once, in trying for a wild one when he
had run over by the cinder track, grunting and strain-
ing, anil had put up his little arms, only to feel the
ball bounce off his chest, he gnashed his teeth so loud
and said " Oh, dear!" in such a plaintive whimper, like a
child waking from a bad dream, that two pipe-smoking
Seniors, who were trooping out in the rear of the crowd,
smiled audibly and said something about him. He could
not hear what it was. He only heard them laugh, and
it nearly broke his heart. But all that he could do was
to call them things under his breath, and run sniffling
back to his place again.
The trouble with the boy was he had worked so hard
and worried so much that he was overtrained, and so,
naturally, there was not much ginger left in him. And
the reason the keen -eyed trainer did not see this and
lay him off for a few days was that Wormsey thought
it his duty to make up in nerve what he lacked in gin-
ger; and he was too bashful to tell any one how ditli
cult it was to make himself play hard, and how that he
no longer felt springy when he jumped out of bed in the
morning, and that he slept all the afternoon after prac-
tice, instead of studying, as all football men should.
He went into the field-house the next day, unbutton-
ing his coat and hating football. He hated the dress-
ing-room. He was sick of training, sick of rare beef
and bandages and rub-downs, and the captain's admoni-
tions and the coacher's scoldings. He thought he would
give anything not to be obliged to play that day. He
was sore all over, and his ear would be torn open again,
and he didn't like having the blood trickle down his
neck; it felt so sticky.
It was a hot, lazy, Indian-summer day. and his muscles
felt exhausted. He felt as much like exerting them, as
one feels like studying in spring term directly after din-
ner, when the Seniors are singing on the steps. As he
caine hobbling out of the field-house he laced his little
jacket, and made up his mind that after the practice he
would tell the captain that he could not spare the time
from his studies to play football, patriotism or no patriot-
ism. This was not necessary, because he was tumbled
over in the opening play, and remained upon the ground
even after the captain cried '' Line up quickly," with his
ugly little face doubled up in a knot.
"There goes another back,'' said the scrub captain,
pettishly, snapping his fingers. "Rice, you play quarter;
and, Richardson, you come play half in Rice's place."
Another sub and William, the negro rubber, picked
\Vornisi-y up. the doctor following behind, and turning
back to see the play, which had already begun again, for
he wanted to see how the new system was working.
As they approached the field-house he saw the two fel-
lows who had laughed at him the day before standing
apart down at the end of the field. One of them was
tapping his pipe against the heel of his shoe, and saying,
" I didn't know that that little fellow could be hurl. He
always - But just then the 'varsity full-back made a
"twister" punt, and he interrupted himself with an ex-
NOVEMBER 20, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
35
clamation about that. It sounded like a reproach to
Wonnsey, and he began to feel that he had somehow
gotten hurt with malice aforethought. And this made
him so ashamed that when they reached the field-house
the trainer, sponging his face, said, encouragingly: "That's
all right, me boy. Don't feel badly. You'll be out again
in a couple of weeks. I've been meaning to lay you off
for a while, anyway. I'll tell you for why; you're a lit
tie stale, Tommy, a little stale."
Everyday now Wormsey trudged down to the field on
crutches — they had to be sawed off at the bottom first —
and watched the practice from a pile of blankets on the
side-lines. It was a fine thing, he told himself, to watch
the others do all the work while he sat still with four
'varsity sweaters tied about his neck. This was a great
snap; he was still on the scrub, was at the training table,
and would have his picture taken, would go to the Thanks-
giving game free, and yet did not have to get pounded
and pummelled.
He was made a good deal of now. The coachers pat-
ted him on the back and said "My boy" to him. He
had a lot of sympathetic adulation from admiring class-
mates. Upper classmen whom he had never seen before,
but who somehow knew him, came up and said, " How's
the leg, Tommy !" At which lie hung his head and snif-
fled, and said, "Getting along pretty well, thank you,"
and then grinned, because he didn't know whether they
were guying him or not.
In a few days he could walk with a cane, and he put
on liis football clothes because they were more comfort-
able. He limped after the teams up and down the field,
and squatted down to see how the 'varsity made their
openings, and he learned how to tell, by the expression
of his legs, on which side the quarter was going to pass
the ball, which nobody else in the world could tell. Also,
by carelessly daily sauntering into the cage during the
preliminary practising, with a guileless smile on his face,
he found out the 'varsity signals, which lie had no busi-
ness to find out.
Sometimes he became very much excited during the
scrimmages, and once, when Dandridge, the wriggly 'var-
sity half-back, kept on squirming and gaining after he had
been twice downed, Wormsey screamed, as he hopped up
and down on one foot, " Oh, grab — grab him! Ph'iixi'
grab him! Oh! oh!" so loud that all the field heard it
and laughed at him. When lie realized what a fool he
had made of himself he kicked himself with his good leg,
and then limped slowly up the field to study the next play.
But conceited as it was, lie really thought that he
would have stopped that runner if he had been there.
He imagined just how it would feel to have once more
the thrill of a clean tackle, sailing through the air, and
locking his arms tight, and squeezing hard, and both roll-
ing over and over, while the crowd yelled in the distance.
And lie thought it would be fine to get out there again,
and run his hands through his hair, and call out the sig-
nals, and plunge the ball home into the back's stomach,
and then pitch forward, and push and strain and sweat
and fall down and get up again. He had a firm healthy
skin now, and had gone up to the tremendous weight of
138i, which was vulgar obesity.
One windy sunny day when Wormsey was limping
friskily up and down the field with his hair blowing about,
Stump, the 'varsity quarter, instead of springing up to
his place after one of the tandem plays, as he should have
done, lay still on the ground, while the college held its
breath.
"It's Stump!' it's Stump!" they whispered to one an-
other with scared faces. Then they no longer held their
breaths. They moaned, and stamped their heels in the
frosty ground, and gazed out sadly toward the dear frow-
zy head of the man who was being carried to the field-
house.
"It's only a wrench," said the doctor. "He'll be out
in a few days."
The captain's mouth grew a little more stern, but he
only snapped his fingers, and said: "Bristol! No, he's
laid off too. Wait a moment, doctor," he called out.
"Is Wormsey well enough to play;"
"Wormsey?" said Tommy to himself in little gasps.
" Why, I'm Wormsey. What! play with the 'varsity !"
And the doctor's voice came back through the wind,
"No, I think not."
"Oh yes, I am!" yelled the shrill voice, which was
heard all up and down both sides of the field, and readi-
ed to the Athletic Club; and throwing away his cane.
and bending over to let some one pull off two sweaters,
Wormsey ran sniffling out on the field.
"See, Jack," he called to the trainer, "I don't limp a
bit." But he kept his face tunied to one side so that the
trainer couldn't see it twitch.
"Come here and I'll give you the signals, Wormsey,"
said the captain.
" I know them already," said Wormsey, looking-
ashamed of himself; and then he took his place on one
knee behind the centre who had so often tumbled upon
him.
Then he jumped in and showed everybody what he had
been learning during the past ten days. He was in per-
fect condition now, except for the ankle, which he forgot
about. He was quite accurate in his quick method of
passing, and he tackled ravenously. Fellows like Wonn-
sey never get soft. "Just watch that boy follow the
ball," exclaimed one of the coachers to another. "Too
bad he's so light," said the other.
Once when the scrub had the ball they gave the signal
for a trick which they had been saving up as a surprise
for the 'varsity. Tommy knew that signal. He dashed
through the line between tackle and end, he caught the
long pass on the fly, and having plenty of wind and a
clear field, he made a touch-down unassisted, which made
the crowd yell and applaud. Of course it was a great
fluke, and Wormsey knew that, but all the same, while the
crowd gave a cheer for Tommy Wormsey, and a three-
times-three for " the little scrub,"he grinned fora moment,
and puckered up his eyes. But it is not the crowd thatt
chooses the team.
That evening at dinner all the college was talking
about the great tear the little Freshman had made, and
down at the Athletic Club Wormsey overheard one of the
roarhers say: " When Stump comes out again, it'll make
him work to see the Freshman putting up a game like
that. But of course he can't keep it up. The pace is too
fast."
Wormsey sniffled and had his own opinion about that.
But whatever it might have been was never learned, be-
cause the next day he was taken off the field for the
season. His bad ankle was sprained in the first half,
which served him right for disobeying the doctor's
order. But he should not have cared. Didn't he play
one whole day on the 'varsity?
At one point during the Thanksgiving game of the
following year a singular tackle was made by the quarter-
back. He jumped up over the opposing side's iuter-
ferers to reach the man with the ball. It was a des-
perate chance, but it was necessary, because there was no
one between them and the goal-line. It saved a touch
down. As he lay there panting and hugging the blue
jersey under him, he became aware for the first time since
the game began of the shouting and cheering of thou-
sands and thousands of people over there in the stands.
And all at once it came over him that they were cheering
for him, and for a moment he grinned an ugly little
grin. Then he remembered what a coward he had once
been, and jumped up, calling out, "3 — 9 — 04."
EARLY DAYS OF SUCCESSFUL MEN.
THE ARM Y— G ENERAL MILES.
]!V CAPTAIN C. A. CURTIS, U.S.A.
GENERAL N. A. MILES, U.S.A.
MANY an American boy with a military ambition has
asked himself, "How can I become an officer in the
army?" To be told that " where there is a will there is a
way " affords him little encouragement. In a country
of seventy millions of peo-
ple, with an army of bare-
ly twenty -five thousand
men, and with two thou-
sand one hundred and fif-
ty - nine commissioned of-
ficers of all grades, line
and staff, the chances for
securing a commission are
slight indeed.
The writer proposes to
show in the following col-
umns how a New Eng-
land farmer's boy, Nelson
A. Miles, got into the army,
and ultimately placed him-
self in the list of the most
distinguished American
generals.
The father of the Gen-
eral was born at Peter-
sham, Massachusetts, but
moved in early manhood
to \Vestminster, in the
.same State, where he en-
gaged in farming and the
lumber business. The son
says of his father: "My
f.-ither's character was
fine. He was possessed of
many sterling qualities.
I never knew a man
whose promises and word
were held more sacred. In all business transactions he
was the soul of honor. He heartily despised a h^ypocrite.
In all his thoughts and acts he was thoroughly indepen-
dent."
Of his mother the General says: "She was an intense-
ly pious and Christian woman. She was more earnest in
that respect than any person I ever knew. Her two chief
ambitious were to set her children a good example and
give them good educations. If prayer has any efficacy, I
must have received its full benefit, for I was earnestly
prayed for during childhood and manhood, through peace
and war."
The General has been "a man on horseback" since hi&
earliest recollection. He first sat a horse in front of his
father, afterwards behind him, and later alone, clinging
to the mane. He was given the care of a horse, and rode
and managed him, at the age of six.
"I lived as a farm boy, "said the General, "the happi-
est days of my life. I think such a life laid the founda-
tion for my healthful constitution, its simplicity and
purity having a great influence upon my after-success —
greater than- anything else. It taught me habits of in-
dustry and economy, and its freedom and independence
caused me to acquire the habit of thinking for myself.
The exercise of farm life gave strength and courage."
In boyhood he attended a district school three and a
quarter miles from his home, carrying his noon lunch
with him. In winter at recess and the noon intermission
he joined his schoolmates in storming and defending forts
of snow, or took part in field operations. He usually
skated and coasted two or three hours daily. In sum-
mer he worked on the farm, but found many opportuni-
ties to amuse himself, rambling through the forests and
fields, swimming and diving in the streams, and in the
numberless ways familiar to the healthy and adventur-
ous boy. When he grew older he went to an academy
GENERAL MILES IN HIS TENT DURING THE RECENT CHICAGO RIOTS.
CAVALRY BEING REVIEWED BY GENERAL MILES AFTER THE BATTLE OF WOUNDED KNEE.
iii a neighboring town, riding his horse to and from
school.
He had few companions near his home, for it was a
farming region and sparsely settled. His only brother,
twelve years older than himself, left home early, and his
two sisters being much older, Nelson was left much to
himself. He continued to ramble through the adjacent
country, carrying his explorations farther than before,
often taking along a well-trained dog and a shot-gun, for
he was a natural sportsman, and was fairly skilled in
setting snares, trapping, gunning, and fishing.
On Saturdays and other holidays the school-boys fre-
quently met by appointment at the home of one of their
number. They formed themselves into bands and clans,
and drilled or carried on miniature warfare. They re-
enacted scenes of the Indian and Revolutionary wars.
The leaders drew lots to settle who should be the " Brit-
ish." the " Injins," or the '"Mericans."
Nelson Miles frequently led one band. They made ex-
peditions through the open and wooded country. Some-
times imagining themselves roving Indians, they built
wigwams, and sometimes as pioneer settlers they built
log huts. They laid ambuscades, attacked strongholds,
captured parties, and did many other adventurous things.
Their costumes were gathered from the farm-house gar-
rets, and consisted of Colonial, Continental, 1812, and
train-band uniforms — formerly common in old New Eng-
land families — and imitations of the dress of the Nar-
ragansett and Iroquois Indians. The weapons were old
flint-lock muskets, shot-guns, rusty swords, tomahawks,
and bows and arrows.
It is easy to infer that the Miles boy had military as-
pirations, and that the promise of an appointment to
West Point when he should be of the required age
would have been hailed by him with delight. But a
farmer's boy without relatives or friends with political
influence had no hope of such an appointment in those
days, when cadetships went by favor, and not by competi-
tive examination. Had some seer predicted that he would
become a Major-General of the army without ever seeing
the military academy, he would have smiled at the proph-
ecy as idle and visionary. At the age of sixteen he
went to Boston to learn to be a merchant.
With the aid of a few of his fellow commercial appren-
tices Miles formed a military company in Boston, and
engaged an old French soldier named Selignac to drill
them. Tbe organization was private, having no con-
nection with the State militia; but it was a success, and
soon swelled into a battalion. Selignac was a thorough
soldier and an excellent instructor, particularly in the
duties of officers.
When the civil war broke out many of these patriotic
young men were qualified to take command of troops.
Miles had been five years in the business house, and had
saved one thousand dollars, which he had deposited in a
savings-bank. He drew out all but one dollar, borrowed
two thousand five hundred more, and spent the whole in
raising and fitting out a company of volunteers.
The members of the company promptly elected him
Captain, and the Governor of Massachusetts commis-
sioned him to that grade. But visiting the camp one
day, and seeing for the first time the tall handsome
stripling of twenty-one, his Excellency pronounced him
too young, and recalling the appointment, recommis
sioned him First Lieutenant, September 4, 1861. A wiser
Governor, or one blessed with a keener perception of
character, less than nine months afterward commission-
ed him Lieutenant-Colonel of the Sixty-first New York
Infantry, and four months later advanced him to full
Colonel.
From the moment Miles reached the front he was en-
gaged in active hostilities. In every battle of importance
in which the Army of the Potomac was engaged during
the Peninsular campaign he took an active part, up to
and including Antietam. And in all the following bat-
tles of that army, except one, until Lee's surrender at
Appornattox Court House, he bore an honorable and dis-
tinguished part. He rendered distinguished services at
Fair Oaks, Malvern Hill. Fredericksburg. Chancellors-
vine, Wilderness, Spottsylvania, Reams Station, and
38
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
Richmond. He was three times wounded, and at- the
battle of Chancellorsville was borne from the field with
what was thought to be a mortal wound. Fortunately
for his rapid advancement and military success, and more
fortunately for the country, none of these wounds kept
him long from the field.
The General's division belonged to a famous fighting-
corps, where opportunities for gallant and daring service
were frequent. Possessed of fine administrative powers,
personal bravery, leadership, and a good knowledge of
tactics and war as a science, intuitive and acquired, the
young General came prominently forward in all the
battles in which the corps was engaged.
He commanded the largest division in the army, and
at one time, when but twenty-five years of age, was in
command of the celebrated Second Army Corps, number-
ing twenty-live thousand men.
He was commissioned Brigadier-General of Volunteers
May 12, 1864, "for distinguished services during the re-
cent battles of Old Wilderness and Spottsylvania Court
House, Virginia," and three months later was brevetted
Major -General of Volunteers " for highly meritorious
and distinguished conduct throughout the campaign,
and particularly for gallantry and valuable services in
the battle of Reams Station, Virginia." Similar brevets
were given him after he entered the regular army — that
of Brigadier -General March 2, 1867, "for gallant and
meritorious services in the battle of Chancellorsville,
Virginia," and that of Major-General, same date, for sim-
ilar services at Spottsylvania.
In 1866, after the close of the war, the regular army
was increased by the addition of several new regiments.
The vacancies in them were by law "original." They
were filled by officers from the old regiments and from
the volunteers. General Miles was commissioned Colo-
nel of the Fortieth Infantry, and in 1869 was transferred
to the Fifth Infantry.
His services since have been scarcely less distinguished
than during the war. In 1880 he was promoted Briga-
dier-General, and in 1890 Major-General. He is now the
second in the list of general officers, and by the la\vs of
retirement became second in command of the army on
November 10th, with a prospect of becoming the com-
manding General in 1895. On Saturday the 10th he was
transferred to Governors Island, New York City.
In the Indian country General Miles's services have
been of great value; the remarkable success of his cam-
paigns has been unequalled in the history of Indian
warfare. His command has been varied, and has ex-
tended over a great expanse of country. He has done
much to open up for civilization vast sections of the great
West, and has possessed the confidence of the settler and
the Indian alike, for both respect his sincerity of purpose,
as well as admire his firmness and bravery.
In 1878 he intercepted and captured Elk Horn and his
band of red handed murderers 011 the edge of the Yellow
Stone Park. In 1886 he accomplished what seemed to
be a wellnigh impossible task — the subjug-atioii of the
Apache chiefs Geronimo and Natchez and their bands
which had made a large portion of the Southwest unin-
habitable, and thus restored peace and prosperity to Ari-
zona and New Mexico.
For his services against the Indians General Miles re-
ceived the thanks of the Legislatures of Kansas, Montana,
New Mexico, and Arizona, and was presented with a sword
of honor at Tucson, Arizona, in 1887.
General Miles's last, great service in Indian affairs was
rendered in connection with the recent troubles in the
Dakotas, where he undoubtedly saved the country from
the most serious trouble that has threatened it in many
years. By his firmness, his thorough knowledge of the
Indian character, and by so disposing his troops as to
effectually shut the Indians off from the settlements, and
so cut off their supplies and chances of escape, he forced
several thousands of the most warlike bands to return
to their reservations. For these services the General re-
ceived the thanks of the Legislature of North Dakota.
His eminent services in the late railway strike in Chi-
cago are too recent to be more than referred to. The
country felt great confidence in the man upon whom de-
volved the duty of protecting its inter-State commerce
and mail service, a man who from September 4. 1861,
until the present time had always proved himself worthy
of its confidence, and believed its interests safe in his
hands. Always prudent, self-reliant, and humane in try-
ing circumstances, he made no mistakes, and showed that
he would have been equal to graver emergencies.
In closing it will be well, perhaps, to remind the boy
readers of YOUNG PEOPLE, particularly those who may
be cadets at the numerous academies and schools of our
country in which military drill is taught, that although
it may never be their fortune to attend the National
Academy at West Point and become officers of the reg-
ular army, a careful and earnest attention to military
instruction will fit them to serve the republic in time
of serious need, and possibly to win laurels similar to
those gathered by many farmers' boys, mechanics, clerks,
students, and young professional men in our late war.
Certainly General Miles's career proves that the way is
open in time of war to the temperate, studious, ambitious,
patriotic, and level-headed boy to attain a high command
in our country's army, and win the confidence and respect
of its people.
FALES'S OSHIA.
BY EVA WILDER M c C I. A S S O N.
CHAPTER III.
OACHEL!" breathed the Eldress, in an extremity of
_1\ surprise.
" Oh, Eldress," bleated Rachel, dropping her shoes,
" it's me!"
" I see that it is," said the Eldress, going down the
stairs. " Will you tell me what you are doing here at
this time of night?" She had spoken with great stern-
ness; but she felt herself relenting when Rachel, hiding
her face in her hands, began to cry in a plaintive under-
tone.
"I can't tell," she whimpered. "She'd think it was
mean. But, oh, Eldress! I'm afraid it ain't safe for her
to go — Oh, I didn't mean to say that! I — I don't know
what I'm talking about."
" Oshia is at the bottom of this," signified the Eldress,
rather wrathfully. " She lias gone somewhere ? I com-
mand you to tell me. Has she gone away for good?
And if so —
"Nay, Eldress, not for good! Nay! It's only to
Baileys.' She told me all about it to-night after Lena
went to sleep. Bailey's boy — we met him in the 'pike —
told her that dog of hers was pining away on account of
missing her. And she 'lowed to run over to see him.
She had to tell me because I woke up when she was get-
ting out of bed. Oh, I begged her not to go, but she
said her pappy set great store by that hound. She said
she could tell in a minute if the Baileys were giving him
enough to eat. And — and —
"Well?"
"She let herself out by the frontdoor. And when I
heard it shut I thought how mean she must think me
never to offer to go 'long with her. I thought how awful
it 'd be for her to go alone that long ways all in the
dark, and I got up and — Oh, I don't reckon she's got
very far yet. I — "
NOVEMBER 20, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
39
" I will send Brother Amos after her," said the Eldress.
" Go back to bed, Rachel. And stop crying. Nay ! nay !
I shall punish her in a way she little expects; but I will
not mention you, Rachel."
She watched Rachel mount the stairs. Then she de-
spatched several Shaker men after Oshia. They came
back shortly with the girl. The Eldress opened the dour
of her room for half an inch, and surveyed the truant.
But she only said, "To-morrow at ten I shall expect to
see you"; and motioning Oshia toward her own small
chamber, the head of West House retired to a long-de-
ferred slumber.
The next morning the Eldress awoke to an unpleasant
sense of the task before her. And as she lay thinking
over the best means of dealing with Oshia, it struck her
forcibly that to remove the girl from her old associations
might perhaps be well. She herself had exhausted all
the penal resources at her command in the effort of re-
ducing Oshia to the featureless state of being which
seemed advisable. Oshia was not perverse exactly ; she
was only, as the Eldress phrased it, uncivilized. But t he-
task of conforming the girl to the standards of Shakerism
was one at which the Eldress felt no hope of success.
Others, however, might achieve better results.
" I will send her to the Shaker settlement at South
Union," said the Eldress. " It is several hundred miles
from here. She will be far away from her old life, and
Deaconess Maria Mook is good at discipline. I will take
Oshia there myself. They set great store by me in Union.
•Maria Mook's always writing up to consult me on family
management.''
Having settled this question, the Eldress went about
her morning tasks. She was still checking off orders for
strawberry jam when a tremulous hand tinkled at her
door.
"Enter," said the Eldress, whereupon Oshia entered
and stood mute. Her long apron and netted hair gave
her the effect of a smull old woman, but the face above
that part of the apron which Lena called " the choker"
looked singularly childlike. The new bonnet, a long
tubular thing of glistening straw, with a green barege
cape and narrow green strings, hung from Oshia's arm.
The Eldress laid her pen down.
" I shall not take time, Oshia, to speak with you upon
your conduct of last night. You have repeatedly broken
the rules of this house. I will only say this, that my
duty to myself and to the family demands that I take
sterner measures with you than heretofore. I have de-
cided to send you away. I think you will be better
off in another place. I shall therefore take you, on
Wednesday next, to our town at Union, and give you
permanently to the charge of Sister Maria —
She stopped. The bonnet had slipped from Oshia's
arm, and had fallen to the floor with the light clatter of
an empty egg-shell. Oshia's eyes were big with hor-
ror.
"Eldress," she quavered, "I — I always lived herea-
bouts. He's buried out yender — my pappy! Don't ye!
don't ye! I won't steal off to look arter that noun'. I —
I— I-
" What I propose is for your good," said the Eldress,
coldly. She felt, at the sight of Oshia's anguish, an un-
accustomed thrill at the heart, and this thrill she hastened
to vanquish at once.
"Oh!" moaned Oshia. "Oh, Eldress! What 'a' I
done as makes you'ns hate me so?"
"Hate? I am amazed! I desire your good."
"Ye hate me," said Oshia. "I reckon it's nat'ral.
You've always been rich and imposing all your life, and
never knowed nothing but plenty. And I wears on ye
because I hain't been bred up to sleep in sheets, or hev
my finger-nails trimmed reg'lar, or bide in-doors and han-
dle a needle. I was getting to like it here real well. I
think heaps of Rachel Day. And now I got to go! I
got to go! Oh, I'd as soon be dead— I would! Oh! Oh!"
"Hush!" motioned the Eldress, lifting her finger upon
this wail. There was at her heart again that same queer
thrill; and as she felt it, the Eldress was glad of a noise
which just then arose in the hall below.
"We'd like to look around the village, and see what
there is to see," said a woman's voice. "We're staying-
over at the camp-meeting grounds, and a party of us made
up to drive over here to see Shakertown. I suppose we
can get some one to show us about?"
There was a step on the stair. Sister Lena came hastily
into the Eldress's room.
"There's a party of camp-meetin' folks askin' to be
showed round, Eldress. They couldn't hev picked out a
more ill-convenient time. I got my jam on boilin', and
the rest of the women hev gone to camp-meetin'. I
don' know who'll take 'em round."
"I will," said the Eldress. "As soon as I change my
cap. Meanwhile you go down and show them the broom
shop, Oshia. I will join you there in a minute."
" Yea, Eldress," said Oshia. And the Eldress had a
sense of compunction at the child's ready obedience.
"I'm sent to fetch you over to the broom shop," ex-
plained Oshia, addressing the group in the hall.
There were half a dozen young women, and one who
was gray-headed and wore crape trimmings in her bon-
net.
The young women giggled. "Oh, isn't she a queer
little thing in that Shaker bonnet? And what an odd
accent!"
"Ma'am?" said Oshia, mystified.
" You talk so — so different, dear. Dialect, you know."
Oshia conceived this to be complimentary. "I talk
jest like my pappy did," she explained. "He wasn't
born round here. He was from Casey County."
She piloted the visitors across the street. At the door
of the broom shop Lief Liefson received them, and while
the young- women went off with him into the fresh-smell-
ing interior, the woman in the crape trimmings sat down
to rest.
"I don't care much for Shaker sights," she said to
Oshia, who lingered near, politely averse to leaving the
old lady. " I live within six miles of one of their settle-
ments in Ohio. When I was young I used to go over there
with the boys and girls, and stay to supper. We thought
it was great fun!" She sighed. " One of my most inti-
mate girl friends," she went on presently, "went and
joined the Shakers years ago. I don't know what ever
became of her. She didn't stay in the Ohio communitv.
She'd had a great affliction, and I guess she was glad to
get away from those parts. Poor 'Liza! Her father —
well, it's too long a story to go into! He'd always been
well thought of, and all at once it came out that lie was
dishonest. He'd cheated a near friend out of a piece of
property. I know about it, because the man he cheated
was my uncle. And when my uncle found he'd been so
deceived he gave right up, and kind of lost his head, and
had to be shut up. And when 'Liza's father saw what
he'd done— well, nobody ever knew just what happened.
He died sudden, and they said 'twas paralysis. I don't
know. Anyway, 'Liza, his only child, she took it pretty
. hard. She gave up everything, and went amongst the
Shakers. She must be quite an elderly —
The woman broke off sharply, suddenly. There was
another sound also — a sound like a gasp, a sob.
In the broom-shop door, against a square of blue sky
and yellow straw and distant greenness, the Eldress
stood, holding fast by the post, as if to stay herself from
falling. Her large face was mottled in purple, and she
shook, as she stood there, almost like one who is taken
with a violent chill. Even her eyes, shaded with the stiff
rim of her fresh cap, looked fixed and glassy.
40
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"ELDEESS," BREATHED OSHIA, "I ASTS YODK PAKDING OVER AND OVER.
"Jinny!" she whispered; "oh, Jinny!"
The woman in the crape bonnet had. risen and stepped
forward. Her face also had changed.
"You?" she cried. "Why, 'Liza Lincoln !"
They stared at each other for an instant, these two old
women, who had last seen each other in the spring of
youth. Then Oshia, who stood hard by, observed a
strange sight. The stern and awe-inspiring Eldress, sob-
bing like a child, was hiding her wet face in the other
woman's neck — actually sobbing, while her old friend pat-
ted and consoled he)1.
"I have never got over it, Jinny!" she said, quite
huskily.
" There, now !" soothed the other. " Don't you feel so !
You did all you could — giving up your property to Un-
cle Jim's folks."
"None of them here know anything1 about it," mur-
mured the Eldress. " I couldn't stand it to have them
talk about my father — being — She added: " The other
Eldress knew. But she said I needn't feel as if I ought
to tell about it."
"I should say not! I wouldn't ever let 'em hear.
Are you Eldress T
" Yea, Jinny."
" Well, I won't ever speak a word of it when the girls
come back. You've had trouble enough. We may never
see each other again."
The Eldress lifted her face thankfully. "You were
always so cheering," she began; and
then she faltered, for her eyes had sud-
denly taken note of Oshia, standing
very near, with wide eyes and parted
lips.
Oshia had heard — Oshia, whose fa-
ther's idleness and thriftlessness the El-
dress had so severely censured — Oshia
had heard of a father whose sins had
been deeper than the sin of mere indo-
lence. Oshia had heard all. Oshia
knew that she who ruled things with so
high a hand in Shakertown had long
been weighed down with a painful se-
cret. Oshia knew. And presently the
folk of South Union, who held in such
deep veneration the Eldress of the upper
community, would wonder over the
sadness and shameful ness of the story
Oshia's childish lips revealed to them.
The Eldress drew a sickening breath.
The place had grown dim to her — a great
reeling space filled with musty odors of
straw and mocking glints of gold. She
seemed to'feel her knees loosing. And
then, oddly enough, something like a
warm living embrace seemed to strength-
en the relaxing joints. About them
was a close, eager clasp; a moved, tear-
ful little face was pressed against the
stiff folds of the Eldress's skirts. Gaz-
ing down with bewildered eyes, the El-
dress saw Fales's Oshia kneeling before
her, pressing with passionate sympathy
a wet cheek upon the Eldress's cold hand.
"Eldress," breathed Oshia, "I asts
your parding over and over for ever
a-grieving of you'like I hev — when you
had all that worry of your own — your
pappy a-doing wrong, and— and all that !
I thort you was mean, and hated me.
But I see now it was only your trouble.
I know! I know! If my pappy had
done wrong by any person, oh, I know
how I'd feel! I wisht I could of ben
some comfort to ye, instead of tormenting ye like I hcv !
But you'll forgive me, won't ye — when I'm gone away off
to South Union, and you won't hear me stompin' round
the halls no more, and laughin' loud? Won't ye, Eldress?
I'll tell 'em all how good ye was to me. But I won't tell
'em 'bout your pappy. He's dead. I won't never pass
a word 'bout him."
The woman in crape looked confused. " What on earth
is the child talking about?" she asked. " She seems very
affectionate. Has she been a trouble to you? — and where
is she going to, anyway?"
The Eldress had stooped and lifted Oshia to her feet.
Slie pushed back the rough red hair, and looked for a
moment into Oshia's frank fervent eyes. And then she
did what Shakers seldom do — she kissed Oshia's cheek.
"She is going to stay here — right herewith me," said
the Eldress, unsteadily. " She spoke of going to Union —
another settlement of ours. But she isn't going. I want
her here. I need her. I have made many mistakes in
regard to you, Oshia. I have been too severe. But
now— now we're going to get acquainted, to be real
friends!"
"Eldress! oh, Eldress! sure 'nough do you xeed.ine?
Oh ! oh ! I'll try, I'll try to do like you want me. I got
a heap to 1'arn."
" Not more than I have, Oshia!" said the Eldress, gen-
tly, as she straightened Oshia's net.
THE END.
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
CHAPTER V.
IN AND OUT OF THE SERVICE.
"T PROTEST against this as an outrage!" cried George.
1 "No back talk!" exclaimed the sergeant.
"One moment, please," said Harold, politely. "We
are naval cadets, and are under orders to leave New York
to-night to join our ship, the Detroit, to-morrow."
" W'y, that are my case too," said Peter. "I ought
to ha' gone this mornin', but I got lost somehow from
the crowd that went from the Vermont."
"This is a likely story!" exclaimed the sergeant.
" If you'll send for Captain Hiram Lockwood, he'll tell
you it's true," said Hal.
" Captain Lockwood? Do you know him?" asked the
sergeant.
" We are visiting at his house."
The sergeant thought a momeiit, and as the house was
only a block away, sent an officer there. He returned
in a few minutes with the Captain and Frank, who
promptly confirmed the story of the boys.
"Well, Captain Lockwood, I know you, and this looks
quite straight now, but I'd like to see these young gentle-
men s orders."
Fortunately the boys had the orders in their pockets.
They were now released, together with the cockswain.
"By the great hook block." exclaimed the Captain,
"you've no time to spare! We'd better take a carriage."
"Cocks'n, you go with ns," said Hnl.
A coach was procured, and with the Captain and the
three boys inside and Peter on the box with the driver
it went rattling away.
"We'll be lucky if we're not left," muttered George.
" We'll make it if we don't break down," said the Cap-
tain. " Meantime, boys, don't worry yourselves about
hunting for Bob. Only if you get the chance, do what
you can."
"That's all very fine," said Frank Lockwood to him-
self; "but their chances of searching for Bob are done.
I have no orders, and I'll not sit still in idleness. I am
the one who will find my cousin."
Clang! clang! went the bell in the ferry-house as the
carriage drove up. The boys bounded out, and rushed
to the ticket office.
" Hold the boat for ten seconds!" cried Captain Lock-
wood.
And, strange to say, it was done, so that the boys and
Peter jumped aboard just as it moved out.
Bright and early next morning, attired in service uni-
form with swords and white gloves, the two cadets went
off in the Norfolk navy-yard launch to the Detroit, which
was lying off shore.
"Isn't she a little beauty!" exclaimed George, gazing
with hungry eyes on the cruiser now to be hrs home.
"She is that," answered Harold, heartily.
Their enthusiasm was well deserved, for the Detroit is
as neat a craft as ever filled a sailor's eye. She measures
257 feet long, 37 feet in beam, and 14 feet 6 inches in
draught. She has two masts, fore and aft, schooner-rigged,
with the usual signal-yard at the foremasthead. She has
GEORGE WAS ORDERED TO GO WITH THE WHALE-BOAT TO BRING OFF THE WRECKED CREW.
42
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
a topgallant forecastle and poop and two smokestacks.
Her armament consists of two 6 -inch breech -load ing-
rifles — one mounted on the poop, and the other on the
forecastle, and eight 4-inch rapid-fire guns on the poop
and main decks. She has the usual secondary battery
of Hotchkiss rapid-fire guns. Of course she is painted
white. All the ships of our new navy are white, so that
the term " white squadron," originally used to designate
the first squadron of four — Chicago, Atlanta, Boston,
and Yurli/iiicn — is now out of date.
"I wonder what sort of a fellow the first Lieutenant
is?" said George.
The executive officer of a ship, who is second in com-
mand, is always called the "first Lieutenant," no matter
what his rank may be, just as the commanding officer,
though lie may be only a Lieutenant-Commander, is al-
ways called "Captain.''
"It can't make any difference to us," said Harold;
" we've got to obey him anyhow."
"Yes, but lie can make it mighty unpleasant for us."
"Not if we attend to our duties."
The launch ran alongside the starboard accommoda-
tion ladder, and Harold led the way up. On reaching
the deck both boys faced aft and lifted their caps. This
salute to the flag which floats at the taffrail is never
omitted. The officer o'f the deck approached and lifted
his cap.
" Come on board, sir, to report for duty, " said Harold,
standing at "attention."
"Ah, Mr. King and Mr. Briscomb, I suppose," replied
the. officer, pleasantly. "Orderly!" A marine in dress
uniform and white gloves was standing under the break
of the poop in front of the door leading to the Captain's
cabin. He came forward and touched his cap. "In-
form the Captain that cadets King and Briscomb have
come aboard."
The marine saluted and went into the cabin. In a few
moments he returned and said to the officer of the deck,
"The Captain says, sir, to please send the gentlemen in."
The boys followed the orderly, who led them to the after-
cabin. There they found themselves before Commander
Brownson, a man whose grizzled hair and bronzed face
bore the marks of long and honorable service under the
American flag.
"We have the honor to report for duty according to
orders, sir,'' said Harold, as he and George handed to
their commanding officer the letters received from Wash-
ington the night before.
" I see you have lost no time, young gentlemen," said
Commander Brownson, glancing at the post-marks on
the envelopes. "I trust you will always be as prompt
and accurate in obeying orders."
"We shall try to be, sir,"' said Harold.
Something in the quiet modesty of the boy's manner
impressed the Commander, and he smiled pleasantly as
he wrote his name across the papers and said,
"Take your orders to the officer of the deck."
And now began a long arduous summer of routine and
drill, the monotony oT which was broken only by the
pranks of the older cadets. They were bent on making
the introduction of our two young friends into the ser-
vice as lively as possible, and for weeks the boys were
subjected to a series of petty annoyances such as they had
not known since they were in the fourth class at the
Academy. They bore it all very patiently, however, for
their Annapolis experience had hardened them to this
sort of thing. The older cadets were under the delusion
that the executive officer did not have his eye on them;
but he was preparing to put down the disorder with a
stern hand when an incident occurred which ended it
suddenly and decisively.
George and Harold had just received a letter from
Frank Lockwood, and it made them thoughtful. "I
suppose you fellows have heard of the breaking out of a
revolution in Brazil," he said. "I can't stand this in-
activity any longer, so I have resigned from the service,
and am going to Rio Janeiro to hunt for Bob. I shall
enlist with the insurgent Admiral Mello. I mean to try
for a berth on the Aqit/tlaban, and I'll bet you I shall
see some fighting."
The two boys had read this just before going on de<-k
for the watch, and they were now standing near a port
on the spar-deck discussing it.
" How can he search for his cousin, and be in the ser-
vice of the rebels?" said George.
"Poor Frank," sighed Harold; "always crazy for ad-
venture. He will live to be sorry that he has left the
service of our flag for that of a foreign one."
Just then the time arrived for relieving the watch, and
as George turned to go aft, the rammer of the gun beside
which he had been standing was suddenly thrust between
his legs. He made a violent effort to save himself from
falling, and instead of doing so turned himself around,
lost his balance, and fell through the open port into the
water.
" You brute!" exclaimed Harold, to the now frightened
cadet, who had been too playful. "He's a miserable
swimmer."
And without pausing to take off his coat, Harold jumped
into the water. Peter Morris, the cockswain, was lean-
ing over the rail at the time of George's mishap, and he
yelled at the top of his leathery lungs,
' ' Man overboard !"
In an instant there was a commotion on the deck as
the officer of the watch sang out :
"Call away the whale-boat! Heave a buoy there!"
" It are all werry well," muttered Peter Morris through
his shaggy brown beard, "but if one o' them boys can't
swim werry good, two of 'em's werry likely to git
drownded, 'less Peter Morris are also in the water, w'ich
the same here goes."
And with that the honest fellow plunged overboard,
and struck out for the spot where Harold, weighed down
with his water-soaked clothing, was making a desperate
struggle to keep George and himself afloat.
CHAPTER VI.
NEWS FROM MID-OCEAN.
" BEGGIN' your pardon, sir," continued Peter a moment
later, as he seized George by the collar, and held both
boys above the surface until help could come.
A few minutes later the three were hauled into the
whale-boat, and were taken aboard the ship, where they
were at once sent to the sick-bay to be attended by the
surgeon. Peter did not seem to be in need of attention,
but he was much concerned about George, who was al-
most unconscious. The efforts of the surgeon restored
him, however, and then Harold turned around and held
out his hand.
" Morris,'' he said, "I think he would have pulled me
under if it hadn't been for you."
The cockswain pulled off his wet cap, which had stuck
to his head, and shook the young officer's proffered hand.
"Bless ye, sir," he said, "it are all in the way of a
day's reckonin'. An' you did me a good turn in New
York, sir."
"Well," said Harold, "I sha'n't forget this."
This incident was the beginning of as warm a friend-
ship as could possibly exist between a seaman and two
junior officers, for George proved to be quite as sensible
of the cockswain's gallantry as Harold. And this oc-
currence made the older cadets realize that they had car-
ried their practical joking too far, and there was an end
of it.
One morning the bugle seemed to sound the reveille
NOVEMBER 20, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
43
with a new vim, and the men tumbled out of their ham-
mocks with unwonted celerity. For several hours all
was bustle and hurry on the Detroit's decks. In the
midst of it all the two boys met their friend Peter Morris
under the break of the forecastle.
" Peter, we're going to sea, sure," said George.
" Werry good, sir, says I. 'Cos w'y: ships is built to
go to sea."
"I suppose the men are all wondering where we're
bound," said Hal.
"No,sir; most on 'em knows. "
" Then they know more than we do !" exclaimed ( leorge.
" A werry good deal more, sir. Some on 'em knows
we're goi n ' to China to join the Lancdxti'i: an' some knows
we're goin' to England. Others knows we're goin' to
Noo York, an' more knows that we're goin' to the West
Injies. Werry good, says I. But them as don't know
nothin' don't make no mistakes."
And the cockswain walked away gravely shaking his
head. For some days after this all hands were busy in
getting stores of various kinds aboard. Finally all this
work was completed, and the Detroit .left the wharf to lie
at anchor in the stream, while she flew a square red Hag
at her fore-truck, signifying that she was getting her
powder aboard.
At last all was ready, and to the steady haul of the
steam-gear the anchor came slowly in. It was secured
for sea, and before the sun peeped over the distant purple
rim of the horizon the white hull of the cruiser was cleav-
ing the green waters off Lambert Point, with the oily
swell of a smooth sea brimming around her forefoot.
Harold gazed straight ahead of him and saw the tremu-
lous ripples aglow with the glory of sunrise, and it seemed
as if the ship were carrying him straight into sailors'
paradise. For many days the Detroit glided through an
ocean of enchanted peace, but there finally came a
change.
"Double-lens your eyes to-night, Mr. King," said the
Navigator, as Harold came on deck for the first watch.
' ' I am steering to make the South Point Light on Barbadoes
to get a new departure."
" Very good, sir," replied Harold. "I'll keep a bright
lookout myself, sir. and see that the men don't soldier."
" If I'm any judge of signs we'll have a taste of weather
inside of twenty-four hours."
" Yes, sir, "said Harold.
The boy was too well disciplined to venture an opinion
unasked in the presence of his superior, but he had no-
ticed that the stars appeared to be veiled in moisture,
and that there was a deep-chested breathing in the long
swell from the southward and eastward.
"Barometer 29. 80, "muttered George, who was in the
habit of talking to himself under his breath when he was
alone; "wind S.S.E., with a force of 4. Character of
clouds, stratified; percentage of clear sky, 10; thermome-
ter, 76°; wet bulb, 68°; there."
George was making the entries in the log-book at the
end of his first hour 011 watch. Two bells pealed in dreary
discord, and the lookouts forward passed the hoarse hail
of " Mast-head and starboard lights burning brightly-
port light burning brightly." The running- lights were
sending long flickering shafts of red and green out upon
the ocean ahead of the ship, and one could see the big
shiny billows glancing along toward the bows as the ship
lifted her ram over the crests, and then plunged it with a
great roaring and whitening of foam into the black hol-
lows.
"Where was that blessed barometer at eight bells?"
muttered George. "Whew! It's coining down with a
rush. We're going to get a gale of wind right in the
teeth."
He went out of the. chart-house, and received a volley
of rain-drops driven horizontally into his face.
"Here it comes, "he said, "all a-pipingout of the south-
east."
For twenty - four hours it blew as it knows how to
blow in the regions around the equator, and then it cleared
up with amazing swiftness. The course of the cruiser
was set once more, and now the men began to suspect
her destination.
"If I might make so bold as to ask. sir. "said Morris,
who was on duty near Harold, " what are the course ?"
"Southeast by east," answered Hal.
" Then this 'ere ship are bound around Cape St. Roque."
"You've been there, then."
"Bless ye, sir, I been all over this 'ere bloomin' globe,
I have, an' this 'ere wessel are a headin' fur Brazil."
" Of course. Every one knows that now."
"Wot I hears I hears, an' wot I knows I knows; but
wot I hears afore the mast I doesn't allus know, sir."
"Well, Peter, we're surely bound for Rio to help to
protect American interests there. Mello's rebellion has
turned out to be a serious matter, and the Navy Depart-
ment is going to have in Rio Harbor one of the strongest
fleets the United States has ever got together."
" W'ich the same it are werry good. 'Cos w'y: them
dagos 'ain't got no respect fur our flag."
" Well, there's going to be a different tune sung now."
W'ich are the tune o' 'Yankee Doodle.' Perhaps
it '11 so happen as we'll have to take a hand in the muss."
"I hope not," said Harold. "Fighting the Aquida-
ban would be no joke. Besides, there is something else."
" An' wot might that be, sir?"
" George and I would have to fight against our friend
and classmate Frank Lock wood."
" That would be a werry bad business."
" Sail-1-1 ho-o-o!" came the clear cry from the foretop.
The usual questions and answers followed, and it was
learned that a wreck lay almost ahead of the Detroit.
"Evidently the work of last night's gale," said Mr.
Burrell.
All hands were now intensely interested, for there
might be living human beings in need of assistance aboard
of her. The cruiser bore down on the dismasted hulk
wallowing pathetically in the long glassy swells.
"There's a man, sir!" cried Harold, whose keen eyes
had detected a hand waving from one of the cabin ports.
"Call away the second whale-boat!" cried Mr. Burrell,
in short sharp tones.
The boatswain's shrill pipe and hoarse cry of " Away,
second whale-boat!" sent willing feet along the deck.
The cruiser's engines were stopped and reversed, and
George was ordered to go with the whale-boat to bring
off the wrecked crew. The boy obeyed most willingly, for
it was his first experience of the kind and had all the ex-
citement of novelty. He found some difficulty in getting,
the whale-boat under the lee quarter of the schooner, for
such the vessel was, but finally succeeded in doing so.
The man who had waved his hand from the cabin now
appeared crawling painfully along the deck.
"Are you hurt?" called George.
" My knee is sprained, sir," answered the man.
" Where are the others of your crew '."
" The Lord alone can tell that, sir. We was dismasted
in the gale yesterday morning, sir, just before daylight.
and I never saw a soul afterward. All knocked over-
board, sir, and drowned."
"Can you get into the boat?"
" I guess so, sir."
The man reached the boat with great difficulty and
much pain.
" God bless you, sir, and the flag you're flyin' ! It does
my heart good to see an American cruiser. Are you go-
in' to Brazil ?"
"Yes. Why do you ask ;"
" You're needed there, sir. They're treatin' Americans
44
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
shameful down there, though there's some of us in their
service too."
George's heart gave a sudden bound.
" Did you know anything about any of them?"
" I saw some of them, sir."
George rapidly described Robert Lockwood to the
sailor, and asked if he had heard or seen anything of
such a young man.
" Seen him? Sure enough, sir. Why, he went down
there as a hand on that very schooner you're just takin'
nie off, an' a good hand too."
''And where is he now?"
"That's what I don't know, sir. He left us there, an'
some says he's shipped •with Mello, an' some says he's
with Peixoto."
As soon as they reached the Detroit, and George had
completed his duty, he ran to tell Harold the news.
'' He must be down there somewhere, Hal," he said.
"It looks that way," said Hal, " and I think we have
as good a chance of finding him as Frank, if not better."
"Anyhow, we can keep our word to the Captain and
go on with the search."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
DOILIES FOR CHRISTMAS PRESENTS.
IF you wish to rejoice the heart of a good housekeeper
make some bit of dainty drapery for her. Simple or
elaborate, it is sure to be " just what she wants," and no-
where can you exercise more taste than on doilies of va-
rious kinds.
Designs for them are as plentiful as the sands of the
sea; but if you have a talent for drawing, or even a mod-
erate amount of inventive genius, I advise you to evolve
your own patterns.
A little friend of mine, who is as dextrous with a brush
as she is awkward with a needle, after vainly struggling
BUTTER-PLATE AND FINGER-BOWL DOILIES.
with silks, determined to try a set of finger-bowl doilies
on an entirely new plan.
She cut 6 -inch squares of bolting-cloth, and washed
the space to be covered by her design with thin gum-ara-
bic water, put on with a camel's-hair brush. Then she
painted tiny oval and round marines, landscapes, and
moonlit clouds in water-color. The four sides were her-
ring-boiied an inch from the edge with fine gold thread
in small stitches, and the doilies fringed. No effect could
be more delicate, or attainable with less trouble to girls
that work rapidly and well in water-colors.
Appropriateness has its own charm, too. For instance,
you might embroider a set of six doilies for a musician,
each bearing on it some suggestion of her hobby. Let
one square have a lyre — not too near the middle — the
frame cat-stitched in white filoselle outlined with gold-
colored silk; the strings also gold silk. Near the lyre
draw the five lines called in music the staff, and outline
them in white. On the lines and between the spaces
embroider whole, half, and quarter notes, tumbling pell-
mell over the staff. Some should be of gold silk, some
of white. A bass clef chasing two or three treble clefs
into a corner will add to the rollicking aspect and general
character of the thing. A kettle-drum, cornet, trombone,
harp — in short, any orchestral instrument could be used
to make a variety; and think how attractive the set would
look at a musical luncheon or tea.
For those not blessed with imagination there are plenty
of ready-made ideas, if one may so express it, that can
easily be copied or improved upon.
Our illustration shows a butter-plate doily of fine linen
embroidered with violets, leaf and stems. The blossoms
are worked in Kensington stitch, but the difficulties of
shading being reduced to a minimum, no one having the
slightest knowledge of embroidery need fear to under-
take it.
First, you must disregard nature in the selection of
your colors. Pompeiian pink violets with almost invis-
ible green stems and leaves would look strange in a gar-
den, and purple violets on your linen would appear dull
and heavy in turn. Silks generally come in five shades.
In this case you want the three palest Pompeiian pinks
for your flowers, and the two lightest olives for leaf and
stems.
Cut by a thread a 6-inch square of linen. In the mid-
dle of the square trace a circle 3^ inches in diameter.
Stitch around this with a lock-stitch machine, taking care
not to stretch or draw the linen.
Work in Kensington stitch two violets, with the lower
three petals in medium, and the upper petals in dark silk.
Indicate the centres by a few short stitches of pale olive.
Between these two flowers is a bud of medium shade,
with calyx and stem of the darker olive.
The third violet has the lower three petals of light, the
upper two of medium shade. On either side of it is a
dark bud, with calyx and stem of the darker olive.
The leaf from which violets and tendrils radiate is of
the darker olive, and both shades are used for stems.
Button -hole over your machine-stitching with white
button-hole twist, keeping the stitches close together, with-
out crowding.
Now make a circle 5 inches in diameter of stiftish pa-
per, and cut the linen by it.
Fringe the sides of your circle, then the corners, and
trim the extra length from the corners with sharp scissors.
The finger-bowl doily is quite as simple and pretty as
the other, and more quickly done.
Cut a circle 6 inches in diameter of ordinary wrapping-
paper, and draw your pattern on it in heavy ink lines,
proportioning the spray so that the stems will not present
a spindling appearance. Baste over this an 8-inch square
of transparent linen cambric.
Form leaves and flower petals by laying over the pat-
NOVEMBER 20, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
45
tern narrow Houiton braid, and basting1 this only through
the cambric.
Button-hole around each leaf and flower petal with
white embroidery twist (not too coarse) two short stitches
and one long. The stems are in stem-stitch, which is no-
thing more than close outlining.
For the edge use -i-inoh Houiton braid, basting it
smoothly around the circle.
Button-hole the inner edge of the braid exactly as you
did the spray, but simply run your silk through the spaces
between the ovals.
The outer edge, a pointed scallop, has five stitches to
each point, the middle stitch being longest ; and it requires
four or live stitches to fill up the spaces between the
scallops.
With a very sharp pair of embroidery scissors cut away
the cambric from under the Honiton, and snip the points
close to the button-holing, and your doily is complete.
THE YOUNG PEOPLE'S SHAKE IN
THANKSGIVING.
BY CHRISTINE TERHUN'E HERKICK.
VLTHOUGH the young people of each family revel in
all the good things of the Thanksgiving festival,
they seldom make any part in it peculiarly their own.
They lend a hand — at least the girls do — in a little of
the preparation, and it is their delight to share in such
agreeable toil as seeding raisins, picking over currants,
and shredding citron for the mince pie, selecting fruit
for the table, tasting the cider to see if it is at the proper
stage of sweetness, and giving- their aid in similar ways
THE CREAMY STICKS OF WELL I'ULLED MOLASSES CANDY.
THE SINGER CLAD AS A PILGRIM DAUGHTER.
where the reward of diligence comes with the tusk.
Such trifles as picking-, slicing, and stewing pumpkin,
making pastry and cake, stuffing turkeys, and cutting up
chickens do not appeal to them. The important part of
the labor which involves skill and responsibility must
fall to older hands and heads; and in those homes where
hired help take full charge of the culinary portion of the
Thanksgiving celebration the young people are unfortu-
nately banished from the kitchen and store-room — a step
which deprives them not only of a little work and a.
great deal of fun, but also of many merry memories in
the future.
Even when this is the case, however, the younglings
need not feel that their share in the great American
feast-day need be confined to going to church in the
morning and eating more dinner than is good for them
afterwards. Instead of this, they should make their in-
fluence felt by taking upon themselves the ornamental
part of the celebration.
The boys and girls may have a charming expedition in
search of the ferns that even so late as this are green in
sheltered spots, and may load themselves down with soft
gray and deep green mosses, running cedar, bittersweet,
pine cones, and scarlet-berried partridge- vines, winter-
green, and dog: wood. Even the red rose hips will prove
decorative. The children who live in the country will
find these treasures almost at their doors, but even near a
great city like New York there are such sylvan ivi<
as Pelham Bay Park and the banks of the Bronx, where
nature is as wild as though the nearest town were a hun-
dred miles away.
There is an especial fitness in having the adornments
46
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
of the Thanksgiving table native to the soil— hardy out-
door plants that testify to the character of the pioneers who
founded the feast. Pine, spruce, and hemlock branches,
studded with vines, may be grouped over pictures and in
niches, streamers of running cedar may festoon the cor-
nices and strangle down over the curtains, great plumy
bunches of dried golden-rod may stand in tall vases, and
the table itself will need no more beautiful decoration
than the drooping jewel clusters of the bittersweet, the
feathery sprays of the seecfed-out clematis, the hardy
green of the winter ferns, and the spicy brightness of the
partridge and checker berries gleaming from the beds of
moss in which they grew. A big flat dish filled with
these ma, y balance the low bowl in which the other larger
berries and ferns are arranged. There is a fine chance
1 here for the exercise of taste and for the display of quaint
and graceful fancies. A very charming picture of a bit
of woodland may be put before the guests.
Important as the floral decoration may be, it is but a
small part of all that lies within the power of the young
people to do for the Thanksgiving feast. The fruit must
receive its meed of attention. To hold it a big pumpkin
may be hollowed out, the edge cut into points or scal-
loped, and in this leaf or fern or paper-lined fruit-dish
should be heaped golden and rosy apples, green and
russet pears, and bunches of purple, crimson, and amber
grapes — all fruits that nourish on New England soil. The
pumpkin-basket may rest in a bed of moss or running
cedar in the middle of the table. On either side of it
may be horns of plenty flowing over with white and
black walnuts and butternuts, ready cracked, chestnuts,
and the tiny sweet three-cornered beech-nuts. Checker-
berries, their vivid pink softened by their green and
bronze leaves, should be placed here and there in tiny
dishes at a safe distance from the pumpkin centre piece.
Other small dishes may hold salted and sugared peanuts —
which, if they are not native to New England, are still
distinctively American — and simple home-made candies.
Trench bonbons and confiseries are out of their element
at such a banquet as this.
Upon the dinner-cards and favors the young people's
best ingenuity may be lavished. The ordinary square or
oblong white or tinted dinner-card should be used, and
the skill of the artist may render it a valuable souve-
nir. Subjects for the pictures are easily found. A vi-
gnette of a log cabin half buried in the snow, or of a ship
ploughing her way through stormy seas; a figure of a
sweet-faced Puritan maiden at her spinning-wheel; a
spray of trailing arbutus, a shock of corn, or a single
stalk of maize; a realistic sketch of a turkey, or of a
pumpkin, or of a mince pie — all these and many others
will readily suggest themselves to any girl who is skilful
with water-colors or India-ink and sepia. The effect is
still more charming where each picture can be accom-
panied with an appropriate quotation, such as "The dam-
sel Priscilla, the loveliest maiden of Plymouth," for the
Puritan maiden; "The glimmering sail of the J/«y-
flower. " for the pictured vessel ; "When the frost is on
tlie punkin," and " Tbe friend of man, Mendamin," for
the pumpkin and the maize; "Let good digestion wait
on appetite," for the mince pie ; " The pale arbutus in our
woods wakes . . . beneath the dead year's leaves," for the
pink spring blossom.
Tbe favors need not be expensive, but they should, if
possible, carry out the same general idea of national and
harvest products. An ear of ripe yellow or red corn in
which is set a thermometer would do for one, a pin-
cushion in the shape of a small pumpkin or of a gone-to-
seed sunflower, a sunflower or autumn-leaf pen-wiper, for
others. It is all the better if the favor is chosen with
reference to the tastes or whims of the person for whom
it is intended — as a cornstalk flute for a musician, a pen-
wiper for the person of literary tastes, and so on. Paste-
board boxes in such fanciful shapes as tiny pumpkins,
red apples, and miniature mince or pumpkin pies also
make pretty favors, especially when filled with sugared
peanuts.
The family which is so happy as to possess a member
with the knack of stringing verses together should set
their rhymester to work to compose a bit of humorous
verse to accompany each favor. If this can be made to
take a personal tone that is amusing without being iil-
natured, there is a fair security that even if there is not
very much wit, there will at least be plenty of laughter,
which the Vicar of Wakefield assures us answers the end
as well.
In most households it is hardly feasible that the cos-
tumes of the diners should imitate those of their fore-
fathers and foremothers. Yet there are homes in which
are treasured quaint old garments of a by-gone time
which should surely be aired on a day like this. Or girls
of deft fingers can by the help of kerchief and cap array
themselves somewhat in the fashion of the Puritan maid-
ens of the long ago. For the boys it is less easy to pro-
vide garments that will make them modern reproduc-
tions of the Pilgrim fathers. The knee-breeches, long
hose, and even the " buckled shoon " might be achieved
in these days of knickerbockers and bicycle or golf stock-
ings, but the tail-coats, flapped waistcoats, and other cloth-
ing for the upper part of the body are seldom found ex-
cept at the professional costumer's, and there one does
not care to seek them. The day can be fitly honored
in modern dress, and if heirlooms or home talent cannot
supply the antique garb, it is not worth while to procure
it elsewhere.
Even in those families where strict temperance is the
rule, sweet cider is generally permitted on Thanksgiving
day. Fate is rarely so kind as to have left in the keep-
ing of a family the silver or pewter tankards or mugs
from which our ancestors quaffed stronger drink. But
the milder liquid is no less delicious when poured ice-cold
from glass pitchers, and the young feasters should have
arranged toasts to be drunk and speeches to be made in
response. Among these may be toasts to "The Pilgrim
Fathers — and Mothers," "The Pilgrim Sons and Daugh-
ters," "To the Inventor of Pumpkin Pie," or of any
other New England dainty; and in the families that trace
their descent, however remotely, from any one of the old
worthies, there is little doubt that the memory of that
ancestor will be honored by a toast.
While music is not. always invoked to add to the
pleasures of a Thanksgiving dinner, there are several
ways in which it may be introduced. The grace before
meat may take the form of the long -metre doxology,
" Praise God from Whom all blessings flow," sung by all.
standing behind their chairs at the table. And between
the courses, or when the dessert comes 011, the musical
member of the family who is not afraid of the sound of
his or her own voice in a solo may rise and sing "The
breaking waves dashed high," or "The Pilgrim fathers,
where are they?" And if the singer is a girl, and can be
clad as a Pilgrim daughter would have been, the perform-
ance will be all the more charming. Even "America,"
or that well-worn old song of our mothers and grandmo-
thers, "Over the mountain wave, hither they come," is
stirring, if all join in singing it at the close of the feast.
The end of the Thanksgiving day does not, as a rule,
carry out the promise of its beginning. Every one has
eaten a hearty dinner, and that, too, in the middle of the
day. when luncheon is usually served. A walk in the
afternoon fails to entirely overcome tlie effects of oyster
soup, chicken pie, roast turkey, cranberry sauce, mince
and pumpkin pies, and a variety of accompaniments.
There is little appetite for the light supper that, more for
form than anything else, is served at seven o'clock, and
unless there is a large enough family party to make up
NOVEMBER 20, 1394.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
47
a little dance in the evening, the day threatens to close
in a gloom that blots out thoughts of thankfulness.
The mother who owns a large roomy kitchen does a
deed of charity when she permits her young people to
ask the boys and girls who are also suffering from the
prevailing; Thanksgiving after-dinner depression to spend
the evening in a merry old-fashioned candy-pull. The
only stipulation should be that the servants, who have
already given more than a full day's labor, should not bei
further taxed, but that all the work should be done by
those who are to enjoy the frolic.
There will be no need of fine dressing-, for big aprons
must cover and protect the raiment of both boys and
girls. The lingering effect of the big dinner and the
constant tasting of the candy will make supper unneces-
sary— unless, indeed, the young people choose to amuse
themselves by roasting apples, roasting or boiling chest-
nuts, and popping corn.
The character of the day must be maintained to the
last. No French candies can be permitted, but in their
place the time-honored taffy, the creamy sticks of well-
pulled molasses candy, the mellow sweetness of butter-
scotch, and that sticky, indigestible, and altogether deli-
cious compound, peanut, hickorynut, or butternut-and-
mol asses bar.
THE CONDUCTOR'S BIRD STORY.
ON the great railway trunk-lines we conductors constantly
meet \\ilh poorly dressed people who Lave spent their
money, not for clothes nor apparently for homes, but for railway
tickets that are a yard in length, that cost as much as I get a
iuonth,and that require almost half that time to ride out. And,
singularly, the number of children, bird-cages, etc., to be dans-
ported as necessary incidents of the long journey seem never to
deter the undertaking of it.
I was bound East one day on my run — a Lake Shore flier be-
tween Erie and Buffalo. Just after leaving Erie, a bird belong-
ing to a passenger of the class described escaped from its cheap
•cage. There was a rustle of excitement among the passengers,
that was not allayed by the shriek which came from the bird's
female owner to ''close them winders quick."
A hall-dozen men by turns took spasmodic shies at the. es-
caped prisoner, guided in their actions by the olhcions orders
of a. female passenger — another long -journey traveller, who
-Shouted that the bird must bo caught, for she'd •• I'eel jest dred-
ful 'f 'twuz her Chippie!"
At last one heroic man more agile than the rest turned the
empty cage upside down against the car ceiling at exactly the
right moment, captured the, truant, and received a hearty
cheer.
Quiet reigned for perhaps a dozen miles. Then one of the
five children of the woman who had superintended the catch-
ing of the first bird stuck a foot into the cage of " Chip-
pie" — with the logical consequence. Down had to go the win-
dows again, and up had to come the shrill- voiced voiiiau, this
time to superintend the catching of her own pet.
The car was in a general titter. One man suggested the ap-
pointment of a permanent bird-catcher for the train. Another
shouted to me, as I entered the car to puuch the tickets, to shut
the transom above the door, else all would be lost ! But " ( 'hip-
pie" was difficult of capture, and its owner even more difficult
of control.
There was a universal call for the man who caught the first
bird. In response, that person came modestly forward and
caught the second bird, but not until he bad spent fully an
hour in chasing the truant up and down the ear, now under the
.stove, now under a seat-, and now above the heads of the pas-
sengers. At last successful, for which he received dicers that
were nothing short of an ovation, he retired, a wilted-collar hero
•of two conflicts.
In those days our train was halted in the Buffalo yards, and
there divided, a part going on East, and the balance into Ex-
change .Street Depot. Some of the passengers changed into
other cars. The hearty laughter over the bird-catching inci-
dents which accompanied the separations and farewells caused
the passengers in the other cars to suspect a boarding-school on
a vacation.
We were waiting for the transfer of the baggage. The car
was at a standstill. -Perfect quiet reigned. Up iu the front
end of the car, iu the tiny box in which it crossed the ocean,
there was a third bird. The Lake Shore, I may observe, takes
an active part in the annual "migration" of birds. A gentle-
man who had been the right-hand man of the hero of the day
arose, walked down the aisle, and stopped opposite the seat
above which swung the wooden cage. Turning, so that he
faced everybody, he said to the occupant of the seat,
" Beg pardon, madam, but would you mind letting your bird
out, so we can catch it?"
THE TONIES-DANISH FOLKLORE.
THE TONIES AS WOOD-CHOPPEHS.
ONE time the tonies went out early in the morning into the
forest to fell trees. Just as they had got one tree cut iu so
far that they could pull it over they noticed that they had for-
gotten to bring a rope with them. For a long time they didn't.
know what to do. At length it was agreed that one of their
number should go up into the tree and lay his neck in a crotch,
while the others pulled at his legs, and thus topple over the
tree. This was done; but the plan wasn't a success; for just
at the first pull, vips! off went the touy's head. It remained
fast up there in the crotch of the tree, while his body fell flat
upon the earth. The others were greatly perplexed at this ; but
as there wasn't anything else to do they laid the, headless body
iu their wagon, drove to his home, and there arrived, inquired of
his wife if her husband, when he started off that morning, had
had his head with him, just as the rest of them. At first she
wasn't sure, and went to see if it was, perhaps, in his old cap,
which hung on the peg. But then she remembered that he
had eaten red cabbage for breakfast just before, starting, and so
must have had his head on when he went away. What had be-
come of it since then she couldn't say.
A YOUNG FISHERMAN'S SUGGESTIONS.
HE took his son a-fishing on a little mountain lake,
To catch a trout to fricassee, or fry, or broil, or bake.
He took, likewise, some angle -worms, but not a fish would
bite;
Dame Fortune was a fickle jade, and kept far out of sight.
But Jimmieboy enjoyed it from beginning to the end;
He had a deal of confidence that luck would shortly mend.
And oh, the grand suggestions that young Jimmieboy did
make
That morning that his daddy had no luck upon the lake!
"Why don't you bait your hook again? Perhaps the fish '11
strike
If you will, 'stead of woyuis, put on some other food they
like.
D' yer think they'd bite at pancakes if you made 'em syrupy ?
I sorter think perhaps they'd like a cup i.' cambric tea.
•• \Vhy don't you tie an apple, on and see it' they'd like that?
Perhaps the woyms ain't seasoned, and the fish don't like 'em
fiat ;
I wish I'd brought the Worcestershire or the tubbasker sauce.
Perhaps of hot tomallys they would like to try a course.
"Next lime let's bring a hamper and a good stout trolliug-
line,
And pull it gently through the lake I think that would be
fine ;
For then you'd catch a dozen all at once — and maybe, too,
We'd scoop the silver watch that man lost here iu sixty-
two."
All these iu his soprano voice that little boy did make
That day his daddy had no luck upon the mountain lake;
And fishers say that in their minds there isn't any doubt
They caused his father's bad luck, since they scared away the
trout.
For fish are very sensible — they're unlike meu in that —
They do not care for seasoning, and like their dainties flat.
Aud from the mere suggestion of tamalcs, cakes, and tea,
Unless they wholly lose their heads, they're very sure to flee.
JOHN KEXDRICK BANGS.
48
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
:~*s h
THE RHINOCEROS, THE ELEPHANT, AND THE OX.
ALL (sotto voce). " Ou, WHAT FUNNY PLACES TO WEAR 'JIM
HOW DOMINGO WENT FISHING.
HERE is a fishing story brought back by a traveller from
Africa:
"It was on a little steamer off Sanga-Tonga, on the coast
of Africa, near Cape Lopez, and I was sitting with my boy
Domingo forward on the deck, looking at the sea, and smoking
my pipe, trying to kill time. In the -green and transparent
waters there played myriads of little fishes, chasing each other,
coming np to the, surface and looking at us, and then diving
down again, no doubt trying to kill time. The silent Domingo,
who never opened his mouth to speak unless he had something
useful to communicate, pointed his finger at the little fish, aud
said :
" ' Those are good to eat.'
•"No doubt of it, Domingo,'! answered. 'But to eat them
yon must first catch them.'
"'Yes,' he replied looking longingly at them.
"'And yon have managed
to lose the bag in which were
our hooks and lines. What
arc we to do then ?'
'"Make some hooks and
lines.'
"Now when you have once
proved yourself to a boy a
man of resources, capable of
extricating yourself from diffi-
culties, his confidence in your
ability is unbounded. So it
wan that Domingo fonud it
perfectly natural to tell me
to make some hooks and lines,
and I felt constrained to exe-
cute his commands.
"On board I found some
iron wire, a hammer, a file,
and a fire, aud after thirty-
two minutes of hard labor I
offered to Domingo a curious-
looking sort of instrument
which in that country might
pass for a fish-hook. Ho re-
ceived it with most unquali-
fied delight, and then proceed-
ed to bait it with corned beef
aud to throw it out.
" In the green anil trauspar-
ent waters the little fishes
came up to the surface in
1,-iruer and larger numbers,
watching Domingo's opera-
tions with an air of interest.
His face wore a sort of know-
ing expression that seemed TOBY, T,,E TRICK ELEPHANT, IN
to say, ' It s all very well for PEN AM, INK.
you now, but in a few min-
utes you won't be quite so gay.
Patience!' But the little
fishes, 011 the contrary, became
much gayer wheu the line
was in the water.
"They didn't like corned
beef, aud the nose of Domingo
grew long.
"After an instant of reflec-
tion, the fisherman baited his
hook with a bit of sardine
preserved in oil.
"Lost pains! The little
fishes didn't like sardines in
oil.
"Domingo's nose took a
Grecian turn ; he scratched
his head, and uttered a few
expressions in negro dialect.
Then he made a bait with cod-
lish ; but alas, the little fishes
didn't HUe salt cod.
" This time Domingo was at
WEAR "KM!" his wits' end. Corned beef, sar-
dines, and codfish were ev-
erything that there was eatable on board. He sat silent and
dejected.
"'These little fishes would no doubt like fresh meat,' I said
to Domingo.
" ' I haven't any,' he said, sadly.
"Then I couldn't help giving him the same answer that he
had given me a few minutes before about the hooks aud lines.
"'Make some fresh meat,' I said. And you may believe nie
or not, as you like, but he did. With his sharp knife, from the
thick part of his heel, a little at one side where the hard
flesh joins the tender, he proceeded to cut a little morsel
with which he baited his hook. It, was apparently exactly
what the little fishes wanted, for they precipitated themselves
upon it voraciously. The results were most satisfactory. And
an hour later, in serving me a delicious dish of fried fish, Do-
mingo said, proudly,
" ' Didn't I tell you they were good to eat ?'
"'Excellent,' I answered.''
SF.F.KING A UIGHF.R EDUCATION, FA M II.IARIZF.S I1IMSKI.F \\ITII THE USR OF
HARPE
VJA
i
/ / , i .
YOUNG PEOPLE
^15- _-=-^-*-~i^r-7>""^r- xs^. _ •w'jc
, 1894, by HAHPKE & BBOTHKRS. All Ri2lits Reserve.1.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 787.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1894.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YBAIl.
THE PRIZE PUMPKIN.
I!V SOPHIE SXYETT.
NCLE ICHABOD ami Aunt Drusilla meant to l>e waste of time, and lhat a boy ought to prefer hoeing po-
verv kind to young Phineas ;:ml lillle Li/.y Ann tatoes to going; fishing.
hen they came, forlorn orplians, to Ihe farm on Pippin Aunt Drusilla wouldn't allow Lizy Ann to go out to
Hill, but young Phineas found that they had many opiu- play until she had sewed or knit a " sten t, " and she combed
ions with which he could not agree. They thought a the little girl's tow-colored hair back from her high fore-
boy ought to save up for a suit of clothes instead of a head M> tightly that it seemed to keep her eyes wide open,
bicycle, and put his Fourth of July money into the con- and braided it in two tight little tails behind, and Lizy
tribution-box. They thought that having fun was a Ann cried because the girls said she was not fashionable.
u
50
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
Young Pkineas lay awake nights and planned to run
away; but, after all, home is home, and the world is cold
and wide.
"What you want to do is to get your own way with-
out letting them know it," said Pitticus Brown.
Pitticus was a tall boy with a sharp nose, and a pair of
little sharp eyes that looked persistently at the nose. It
was the general opinion on Pippin Hill that Pitticus was
" too smart"; but Phineas thought this idea of his might
be valuable. He remembered it when, in October, there
was a great Jack-o'-lantern procession on the hill, and
Uncle Ichabod wouldn't let him have a pumpkin to make
a Jack-o'-lantern of. Enoch, the hired man, did at last
find a little one that had a speck in it, and Uncle Ichabod
said he might have it; but who wanted to parade with a
lantern like that?
It happened on the night of the procession that Uncle
Ichabod and Aunt Drusilla had gone over to Canterbury
Four Corners to spend the night, and Enoch went down
to the Bend to see his girl, and Priscilla, the hired girl,
went to bed with the neuralgia.
Phineas took Enoch's lantern and went out to the
squash-house, and there by itself on a shelf in the corner
was the great pumpkin that had taken the first prize at
the State Agricultural Fair.
Phineas's pocket-knife was sharp — it seems as if knives
are sure to be when one is getting into mischief with
them — and the work was soon done: the top cut off the
pumpkin — if Priscilla's glue was all that she recom-
mended it to be, that could be fastened on so that one
could still take the pumpkin up by the stem — the inside
scraped out, and delightfully effective features cut out in
the great yellow face. When the candle was placed in-
side, there was a Jack-o'-lantern indeed!
A great shout greeted it when Phineas joined the Pip-
pin Hill company; but he was able to hush it quickly,
for the boys were friends of his and understood. He was
a little afraid of Billy Bostwick, who was considered en-
vious, and who told everything to his sister Maud, who
was Lizy Ann's friend. But a boy must expect to run
some risks, as Pitticus Brown said (Pitticus was at home,
afflicted with mumps on both sides at once; Phineas
thought mumps was the only thing that had ever been
able to take an unfair advantage of Pitticus Brown).
When the Pippin Hill company joined the procession
in the town the great lantern was not so conspicuous, but
it still attracted much attention, and Phineas was very
proud. He had not been able to fasten it upon a pole, as
most of the other boys had done with theirs, and it was
very bulky and hard to carry, and he was obliged to run
home before the other boys to glue the pumpkin to its
original shape before Enoch should return.
It was a difficult task to fit the pieces exactly, especially
when one was in a hurry; and then Phineas was obliged
to fill the hollow pumpkin with bran and meal, lest its
lightness should betray the ruin it had suffered. But
the work was done at last; and on the shelf, at least, no
one would have suspected that it was not the solid pump-
kin that had won a prize at the fair.
At the school recess the next day Maud Bostwick whis-
pered something in Lizy Ann's ear, which caused Phin-
eas's young sister to turn red and white and almost to
burst into tears. And in the afternoon Lizy Ann car-
ried to school her blue bead necklace that grandma had
Driven her and gave it to Maud. (Aunt Drusilla thought
little of necklaces, and probably would not even miss it.)
Maud had great influence over her brother Billy, and
could keep him from telling things.
At the very first opportunity she could find, when no
one was looking, Lizy Ann went out to the squash-
house. When she saw the prize pumpkin on the shelf
she uttered a little cry of joyful surprise, and felt an im-
pulse to run across the field at once and demand the re-
turn of her necklace. But Lizy Ann had^i prudent mind,
and she decided to investigate further. So she climbed
up and felt all over the pumpkin. To her soft little fin-
gers the lines that marked where the Jack-o'-lan tern's
eyes and nose and mouth had been were plainly to be
felt. Lizy Ann prayed tearfully that night that Phineas
might repent — but not be found out.
Lizy Ann blushed painfully whenever pumpkins were
mentioned, but Phineas — as nothing happened, Phineas
was forgetting.
The day before Thanksgiving Uncle Ichabod came
home with a letter from Aunt Lucetta. She was the
children's youngest aunt, and lived in Boston. She had
taught in the High School in Plumfield, and had married
the master of the school, and he was now a thriving
young lawyer in the city. Uncle Ichabod and Aunt Dru-
silla had visited them once, and brought home wonderful
accounts of the flat in which they lived, where the book-
case was a bed and the arm-chair a table, and everything
turned into something else in the most fascinating mau-
uer. It was the dream of the children's lives to visit
that wonderful place.
AuntLucetta's letter was an invitation to spend Thanks-
giving with her in Boston.
Phineas thrilled with hope and fear, and Lizy Ann
gazed breathlessly at Aunt Drusilla, her mouth a round O.
Aunt Drusilla shook her head; she was so apt to shake
her head at delightful things. '' That's just like Lucetty,"
she said. "She don't stop to think that there ain't room
for us all to turn round in that flat. But I should kind
of like to have the children go, if we could manage it;
'twould be something so new to 'em." Aunt Drusilla
was kind like that sometimes, when one least expected it.
"Besides, it always seems kind of an imposition to carry
'em over to Hiram's, where there's so many young one's
a'ready."
" I was calc'latin'," said Uncle Ichabod, with provoking
slowness— "I was calc'latin' that it might be worth the
while to send Enoch down to the city with a wagon-load
of stuff — some of them turkeys are uncommon handsome
— and the children could ride down 'long of him."
Lizy Ann fairly gasped with delight. Dreams were
coming true, as if one lived in a fairy -book. Phineas's
heart swelled as if it would burst his jacket, though he
wore outwardly as calm an air — to impress Lizy Ann —
as if he were in the habit of going to Boston every week.
Joyful days of preparation followed; joyful although
they lagged, and at length came the eve of the exciting
journey.
They were to start at three o'clock in the morning, for
it was eighteen miles to Boston, and Enoch must be early
at the market with his produce. The wagon was loaded
the night before, and it was great fun to be in the barn
by lantern-light, with every one helping.
"We must send a fine large turkey to Lucetty," said
Aunt Drusilla. "And there! I shouldn't wonder if pun-
kins were skurce in the city, and Lucetty used to like
punkin pies; you had better send her the prize pun-
kin."
''I declare, I b'lieve I will; guess 'twill astonish 'em
some!" said Uncle Ichabod, with a chuckle of proud anti-
cipation.
Phineas was helping Enoch to fill a barrel with the
finest squashes, and he dropped one out of his hands
when Uncle Ichabod said that. As for Lizy Ann. the
joy went out of everything as suddenly as it did for Cin-
derella when the clock struck twelve.
Enoch brought the prize pumpkin from the squash-
house under his arm. Phineas expected at every mo-
ment to see him lift it by the stem; then it seemed as if
everything in life would depend upon the strength of
Priscilla's glue.
NOVEMBER 27, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
51
"Jest slip it into that hag-, Enoch. I shouldn't want it
to get jammed or scratched," said Uncle Ichabod.
Enoch slipped the pumpkin into a canvas potato-bag,
and tucked it into the wagon. Phineas drew a long
breath, and Lizy Ann swallowed a hard lump in her
throat.
Then Phineas had a bright idea; he had heard Pitticus
Brown say that " there never was a scrape without a way
out of it," and one wasn't Pitticus Brown's friend for
nothing.
Even before the start was made in the early morning
— a very sleepy time, when even the delightful queerness
would scarcely keep Lizy Ann's eyes open — Phineas found
an opportunity, while Enoch was harnessing the great
roan horses, Tom and Jerry, to slip a large squash into
the bag instead of the pumpkin, which he tucked away
under the front seat. He would have liked to leave it
behind, but Enoch might miss it on the way. He threw
Lizy Ann's shawl carelessl}' over it.
"If you want your shawl, you just tell me," said
Phineas to her, gruffly.
It is scarcely too much to say that Lizy Ann would
have frozen before she would have admitted that she
wanted that shawl.
Enoch stopped before the Brown farm-house and whis-
tled sharply. "I promised Llewellyn Brown that I'd carry
him down to Brockville," he said. " I guess we can stow
him in somewheres. He's got a chance to work in a big
mauufacturin' concern down there; they're smart fellers,
them Brown boys."
Llewellyn's conversation enlivened the long drive, and
diverted one's mind from the dreadful worry about that
pumpkin; he was so full of excitement and pride about
the situation that he expected to get in the great manu-
factory— a better opening in life than often came to a
Pippin Hill boy.
It was not quite daylight when they stopped in Brock-
ville, but the busy town was already astir. Enoch stopped
at the hotel on the main street to water his horses.
Llewellyn jumped out of the wagon, and carefully
lifted out the box of butter which his mother had sent
as a Thanksgiving offering to Llewellyn's prospective
employer.
"Here, Llewellyn, you cau have this too!" called
Phineas, obeying a sudden impulse, and with a furtive
glance towards the stable. "We — we've got a squash
to carry to Aunt Lucetta." He drew the prize pumpkin
out from its concealment.
Llewellyn's eyes grew wide with wonder and delight;
this would be a belter propitiatory offering than the but-
ter.
Phineas kept an anxious eye on the stables as Llewel-
lyn strode off, the pumpkin under- one arm and the box
of butter under the other; lie turned a convenient corner,
and still Enoch had not appeared. He had not missed
the pumpkin; it would be very likely that Phineas could
now convey that bag unopened to Aunt Lucetta. He
drew a long breath of relief; but Lizy Ann's small frec-
kled face looked pitifully drawn, and her wide-open blue
eyes were full of the horror of this deed without a name.
Aunt Lucetta would write a letter of thanks for the
Thanksgiving presents, thought Phineas; she might spe-
cify the squash; then what would they think at Pippin
Hill farm? Why, that she didn't know the difference, or
that the pumpkin had acquired the peculiar power of the
flat's belongings, and turned into something else! Phiii-
eas grinned broadly as this solution of the difficulty pre-
sented itself to his mind, so light-hearted had he be-
come.
It was even more easily managed than Phineas had
hoped; he jumped out of the wagon and seized the big
squash, in its bag, before Enoch had been able to induce
Tom and Jerry to resign themselves to the electric cars,
which ran through the street where Aunt Lucetta lived.
He and Lizy Ann had to take the other things, too, be-
cause Enoch dared not leave the horses long enough to
go in the elevator up to Aunt Lucetta's fifth -story flat.
A proud elevator-boy made them take their rough and
bulky packages to the freight "lift" in the back of the
house, and Phineas cherished a wild hope that the squash
might get lost, in which case he. decided — with onlv a
slight pang of conscience, so hardened in falsehood had
he already become — to describe it as a huge pumpkin.
It came up safely, of course, and Aunt Lucetta called
it "a delightful countrified squash" — as if, thought
Phineas, she were accustomed to squashes that grew on
pavements. He forgot all about it soon, in the excite-
ment of inspecting this queer place to live, so far up in
the sky and so small, with the great city roaring around
it. Even Lizy Ann forgot it when Aunt Lucetta really
banged her hair; because her father-in-law and her sister-
in-law, who were very stylish, were coming to dinner the
next day.
Aunt Lucetta's father-in-law was a manufacturer in
Brockville. Phineas did remember the pumpkin when lie
heard this, although with only a slight pang; there were
so many manufacturers in Brockville. But Lizy Ann
had a more anxious mind; she forgot even the little frills
and the big sash and the bangs with which Aunt Lucetta
had adorned her, and stared at Aunt Lucetta's father-in-
law with a fascinated dread all through the Thanksgiv-
ing dinner. It seemed to her that by tliis time all Brock-
ville must be ringing with the report that the great prize
pumpkin was only a hollow Jack-o'-lantern. It was no
comfort even to be fashionable when Phiueas was going
to be found out.
When the dessert came on Aunt Lucetta's father-in-law
sharply eyed the squash pies.
" Ought to have pumpkin pies at Thanksgiving, Lu-
cetta," he said, with the frankness of a well-to-do father-
in-law. "Reminds me of a saucy trick that was played
on me yesterday. There was a fellow from Pippin Hill
who had been recommended to me as smart. I meant to
give him a good chance. But I hate a practical joke,
anyway, and 'twas such an impertinence in a boy like
him. He brought me a pumpkin from home — a present —
the largest and finest pumpkin I ever saw. I said to my
cook that we'd have some old-fashioned pumpkin pies.
When she put a knife into it, out came a lot of bran and
stuff; the pumpkin had been scooped out and filled up
with trash. He brought a box of butter too. I suppose
that is tallow. We've no use for such fellows in Brock-
ville; they're too smart."
Phineas choked, and had to be patted on the back by
Aunt Lucetta; he said he had swallowed something1
hard; he guessed it was a raisin seed in the pudding.
But he had sufficient presence of mind to scowl dread-
fully at Lizy Ann, who looked as if she were going to
cry.
" I just sent word to the fellow that he wouldn't suit
me," continued Lucetta's father-in-law. "I didn't say
anything about his pumpkin; I wouldn't give him the
satisfaction."
Phineas drew a long breath of relief. He said he
thought he would take a piece of mince pie, and he gave
Lizy Ann a warning kick under the table. Llewellyn
Brown would never know why he had missed his great
chance in life; Aunt Lucetta would scarcely think to
mention in a letter that she had received a squash among
her Thanksgiving gifts. Phineas ate his mince pie with
relish, and said to himself that he was about as smart a
fellow as Pitticus Brown.
He wished that Lizy Ann would not look so woe-
begone, and say that she didn't care for candy or nuts.
Being only a girl, she couldn't understand that in this
world, as Pitticus Brown said, you had to get there your-
52
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
self, and you couldn't stop to look out for the fellow that
was left behind.
Aunt Lucetta gave a party for them that night, and
the next day her father-in-law took them to the play;
but in spite of the good times and of all the sayings of
Pitticus Brown that he could recall, Phineas couldn't get
rid of the thought of Llewellyn Brown going home, dis-
appointed and humiliated, to the old farm-house, where
they were ill and poor, and everything depended upon
the boys. It was in vain that he said to himself that he
was as silly as a girl — as silly as Lizy Ann, whose face
looked worn, and who followed him with wistful eyes.
He seized the coat tails of Aunt Lucetta 's father-in-law,
who was entering the elevator for his final departure.
"I can't — stand it — anyhow!" he stammered. "It
wa'n't Llewellyn's fault — that scooped-out punkin wa'n't
—'twas mine !"
And out came the whole story, with a murmured ac-
companiment of excuses for Phineas from Lizy Ann.
Phineas made no excuses for himself; he told the story
in a manly fashion; and the manufacturer said: " Well,
well ; he believed he liked Pippin Hill boys after all, and
he would send for Llewellyn and give him the place, and
if Phiueas ever wauled a chance for himself, why, he
liked a boy that would not let another suffer for what he
had done, no matter how hard itwas to own up." Phin-
eas felt as if he did not deserve any praise; he had
come so frightfully near to not owning
up.
It was great happiness to stop at the
Brown farm - house on the way home
and tell Llewellyn that the great chance
was his — it seemed to fortify one for
that owning up to Uncle Ichabod.
Almost before the first greetings were
over, before Aunt Drusilla had decided
whether to be angry about Lizy Ann's
little frills and big sash and bangs,
which made her look like a very seri-
ous-minded doll, Phineas stood forth
like a man and told the story of his
misdeeds.
"That prize punkin for a Jack-o'-
lantern! Well, I wouldn't V believed
you'd 'a' darst to do it!" cried Uncle
Ichabod. He was so overcome that he
dropped heavily into his arm-chair.
"Aunt Lucetta's father-in-law said
it was the finest punkin he ever saw.
I guess they never saw our punkins
down to Brock ville before!" piped Li/.y
Ann, with the wisdom of the serpent.
"I guess it did astonish 'em some!"
chuckled Uncle Ichabod, and lost his
wrath's sharp edge in the chuckle. "I
ain't goiii' to say any more about this,
young Phineas, seein' how it's turned
out, but I in goin' to raise a punkin next
year that'll beat this year's all hollow,
and that one won't be made into no
Jack-o'-lantern !"
"I declare them children both look
real peaked and worn out," said Aunt
Drusilla, pityingly.
Uncle Ichabod shuffled his feet un-
easily. " I never thought you cared so
much about Jack- o' - lanterns, young
Phineas," he said. "They're all fool-
ishness anyway. But I'll tell you what
I'll do: next spring I'll give you and
Lizy Ann a punkin patch of your own,
and you can raise a whole procession if
you've a mind to."
MI!. GOBBLER'S STOUY.
BY R. K. MUNKITTRICK.
DOWN behind the old farm-house, on the topmost limb
of the scraggly but picturesque buttonball, sat Mr.
and Mrs. Gobbler, huddled closely together, looking' across
the fading fields in silence. Beside them sat Willie Gob-
bler and his dear little sisters Susan and Araminta. It
was the children's first autumn, as they had been hatch-
ed into the world some time during the previous month
of May. They looked upon the glowing foliage with
lively delight — just as they would have looked into a toy-
store window if they had been little boys and girls.
"Oh, isn't this perfectly lovely, papa!" shouted Ara-
minta, flapping her glossy wings as a little girl would have
clapped her hands.
Mr. Gobbler in reply only shook his head gravely,
while a tear dropped from Mrs. Gobbler's eye, for they
were both thinking of Thanksgiving' and its awful possi-
bilities.
"Don't annoy your father when he is trying to rest
and collect his thoughts," said Mrs. Gobbler, petulantly.
" I am not annoyed by a little thing like that," replied
Mr. Gobbler, as he stroked his great old wattles as if they
were side-whiskers. " I am too much accustomed to an-
noyance to be worried by so trifling a thing. Haven't I
had fire-crackers set off under me when I was asleep on
THE FARMER PLAYED ACCORDING TO THE PIG'S FEET.
NOVEMBER 27, 1S94.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
53
THE BEAR'S WORK IN THE MOONLIGHT NIGHT.
the wagon-pole? Haven't I had \vatei1 thrown on me
when I was sitting- on the grass suffused with pleasant
dreams?"
"But, papa," asked Susan, ''have you ever had a fox
try to gather you from the perch?"
"Once, Susan, and only once," replied the patriarch,
"and that was when I was a little boy, with a tail no
longer than a worn-out duster. The fox stood on his hind
legs and reached up and grabbed my tail feathers, and I
thought my end had come; but by a
great effort I flew out of his mouth,
and since that time I have always
perched upon the highest limb I can
find. Remember, my dear little chil-
dren, that although foxes are very
cunning they cannot climb trees.''
Here the happy children looked
upon their father with pleasant smiles,
and the old gentleman waved his wat-
tles, and looked into the hazy distance
as if very proud of his great wisdom.
While Mr. Gobbler was thus lost in
deep reflection, Willie asked,
"Come now. papa, won't you tell
us a nice little story before we tuck our
heads under our wings for the night?"
" I have told you all the stories I
know long ago, and I'm feeling very
sleepy."
"Then tell us one of the old ones;
tell us the one about the little pig
that danced a jig while the farmer
played the fiddle," pleaded Willie.
"Oh yes," chimed in Araminta —
"the little pig that danced a jig while the farmer play-
ed the fiddle. It is such a nice Thanksgiving story."
"See here," replied Mr. Gobbler, severely, "don't you
allude to Thanksgiving again, unless you want my fea-
thers to fly out by the roots, and my wattles to lash them-
selves into spoonfuls of cranberry sauce."
"Then tell us the story, papa dear, and we shall all be
good little turkeys."
Mr. Gobbler then looked furtively about him, as if
anxious to find some loop-hole of escape. He had told
them the story so many times that he deeply regretted the
fact that he had ever related it at all. And the worst of
it all was that it was a Thanksgiving story that he could
only enjoy telling in May. So while he sat in silence,
hoping the little turkeys would fall asleep, one of them
saiil :
" Come now, papa, you can't get out of it in that way;
we want to hear the story of the little pig that danced a
jig while the farmer played the fiddle."
So, seeing there was no use trying to evade the sub-
ject further, Mr. Gobbler began "Once upon a time
there was a happy-go-lucky farmer who had a cunning
little pig —
"Pardon me. papa, but the lasl time you told the story
the pig had a black spot on one side of his face."
"Haven't I often told you," broke in Mrs. Gobbler,
petulantly, "that you shouldn't interrupt any one, espe-
cially an elder, when speaking? You must remember this
injunction if you would be polite and refined turkeys
when you are grown."
"But, mamma dear," protested Willie, with a crest-
fallen air. " I began by saying 'pardon me.'"
" I had forgotten that when I spoke, "said Mrs. Gobbler,
with an applogetic smile. Then she returned her hus-
band's glance, and said, " Now tell them the story, Or-
lando."
"Once upon a time," continued Mr. Gobbler, "there
was a happy-go-lucky farmer who owned a pig with a
black spot on one side of his face. The little pig and the
farmer were very fond of each other, and whenever the
tiller of the soil gave Nathan — that was the pig's name —
a nice red apple, he would be thanked in a bland sugar-
cured smile that rippled over the black spot on the happy
porker's face. Now the reason that the farmer liked the
little pig was all because the pig was fond of music and
could dance; and Nathan was equally fond of the farmer
because the latter played on the fiddle. The farmer would
stand by the pen and fiddle, while the pig danced about
THR GOBBLER FLEW WITH FIDDLE AND BOW TO THE TOP OF A HIGH TREE.
54
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XTL
in the airiest manner he could. Some men play by note,
and others by ear, but this farmer played according to the
pig's feet."
" What! Pig-foot music?" asked Araminta.
"There you go with another interruption," cried Mrs.
Gobbler.
" Pig's-foot time would be more correct," said Mr. Gob-
bler, without appearing to notice the interruption; " for
even as Nathan danced to the time of the music, so did
the farmer play to the time of Nathan's feet, while he
watched them as he performed as if they had been notes.
When Nathan stopped dancing, the farmer had to discon-
linuo playing, and as he was very fond of his fiddle, he
would give the little porker another apple to resume.
Now the pig was very fond of good things, and when he
had had all the apples he wanted he would not dance
until the farmer had given him a lump of sugar in ad-
vance. Now the farmer had also a very fine old gob-
bler of gentle demeanor, whom he called Alexander, and
this gobbler was so fond of music that he would perch
delightedly 011 a bar, of the pen while his owner fiddled
and Nathan danced. He would also sit on the window-
sill of the farm kitchen and watch the fiddle as it hung
on the wall, and turn his glances upon the farmer, as if
to ask him to play. This was usually too much Tor the
agriculturist, who loved to perform upon his favorite in-
strument, and the result was that he would take it down
and move to the sty even in the moonlight. Now you
know, my dear little children, that it is very wrong for
one to become a slave to anything, whether it be a fiddle
or a mania for collecting postage-stamps, because such
slavery tends to take one's mind off other things of greater
importance. This farmer became so great a slave to the
fiddling habit through the encouragement of Nathan and
Alexander that he neglected his work upon the farm.
He would argue that if he fiddled all one day and did
two days' work in the corn-field on the morrow, a proper
average could be maintained. But oil the morrow the
gobbler — I am ashamed of him as an ancestor — would
glance at the fiddle, and the pig would squeal for music,
and the poor farmer, through lack of will-power, would go
to the penside and play cotillon after cotillon after the
pig had started him with the motion of his feet. Then
Alexander would march up and down with martial pride,
for sometimes he couldn't stand still."
" Do you think the gobbler was as fond of music as the
pig?" asked Willie.
"Which do you mean?" observed Orlando Gobbler,
Esq., sarcastically; " was the gobbler as fond of music as
he was of the pig, or was the gobbler as fond of music
as the pig was?"
" I didn't intend to be rude, papa; but when I asked
the question, I wanted to know if the pig and the gob-
bler were equally fond of music, that was all."
" Well, I cannot tell you as much as I should be happy
to on this point, because I only know the story as it was
told me by your grandmother, when I was beneath her
wing. It was noticed by many of his neighbors that the
farmer was fiddling too much and farming too little for
his own welfare. The potatoes needed hoeing, and the
tomato bed was choked with great weeds. The meadows
remained unmowed, and the melons were rotting on the
vines. It was predicted that the crops would not fail
from the effects of drought, but from too much fiddling.
The poor farmer with the ungovernable weakness for
music was very sharply criticised by some and pitied by
others, who regarded his case as a very pathetic one.
Many of them tried to reason with him, and point out to
him the error of his way. They advised him to farm
during the day and fiddle in the evening. But their ef-
forts were all in vain. As soon as he arose he would set
out for the sty of the dancing pig, and fiddle until his
arm was sore — "
"What was the upshot of it all?"asked Araminta.
"I told you before not to interrupt me," replied Mr.
Gobbler, with a glance that showed how provoked he
was. " When you break in on me in this way I lose the
thread of the story, from which alone you may learn the
fiddler's fate."
Little Araminta was greatly pained at this rebuke,
which made her pout. But the pouting soon disappeared,
and her father continued:
"Everything went well with the fiddle and wrong
with the farm, until the crops were in such a condition
that only immediate attention could save them. Still,
the fiddling farmer continued to perform upon his instru-
ment as if his crops were safely stored or profitably dis-
posed of. At this time, on a fine moonlight night, a bear
sauntered into the barn-yard, and having secured a good
hold upon the pig, bore him swiftly away to the woods,
and devoured him in the bosom of his family. On the
morrow the farmer was prostrated with grief, because,
you know, he had depended entirely upon the time of the
pig's feet for his ability to carry the tune. Without the
pig he couldn't play —
" Didn't you say the gobbler Alexander was also very
fond of the fiddle?" asked Willie.
"I did," replied Mr. Gobbler.
" Then what did he do?"
" Why, he moped about the doorway and watched the
farmer as he looked dolefully at the fiddle on the wall,"
responded Mr. Gobbler; "and one day the farmer thought
he saw the gobbler smiling, and this he concluded was a
wicked smile of triumph at his woful state of mind. So
he threw a pot-stick at the poor bird, and almost knocked
the feet from under it. The gobbler repaired to the
shadow of a convenient gooseberry-bush to think out a
suitable plan of retaliation ; and in about an hour, when
the farmer had gone forth to look for rain, the musically
inclined bird stepped into the kitchen, took the fiddle and
bow from the nail on the wall, and flew with both to the
top of a high tree in the middle of an adjoining wood.
When the farmer knew that his fiddle had gone, probably
to join the pig, he went to work to forget his trouble.
He hoed and raked and weeded, and it was not a great
while befo:-e his farm was in a flourishing condition. He
saved all the crops, and that winter his family had plen-
ty of johnny - cake and pumpkin pie. He repented his
weakness for the fiddle; and one day in the rosy autumn,
when the mellow light of Indian-summer glimmered on
the fields, whom should the farmer happen to see but the
music-loving gobbler sleeping on a sapling. You know,
the gobbler kept out of his way after the theft of the fid-
dle; and when the farmer saw him, it reminded him of
his foolish weakness for his stringed instrument. And
when he connected these painful thoughts with his pros-
perity that shone on every side in groaning bin and larder,
he killed the gobbler and had a Thanksgiving feast."
" And now, my dear children," said Mrs. Gobbler, " the
moon is rising, and it is time to retire for the night. One,
two, three!"
At the word " three" they tucked their heads beneath
their wings, and were soon lost in pleasant dreams.
TT)IK well tor you you are a Yankee boy,
-L And in tlir. English tongue express your thoughts,
For have you ever thought how 'twould anuoy
If these were penned in tongues of foreign ports?
Suppose, for instance, yon in German spoke,
Or e'en in Spanish had to say your say;
Suppose o'er Russian words you'd madly choke,
Or put your sentences in pure Franc.ais!
I shud:ler when I think how it would be
If you dropped English and spoke thus instead;
For neither pa, nor inn, nor nurse, you see,
Could understand a single word you said.
GREAT STATE PAPERS.
BY HENRY CLEMENT HOLMES.
I.— TITLES TO OUR TERRITORY.
YEARS ago, when I was in a history class at school,
[ Tom Fellows, the brightest member of it, was re-
lating an incident of the Revolutionary war, when the
teacher asked,
" What ended that struggle— officially ended it?"
Tom hesitated. "Why," he said at last, "fighting
censed, and we were free, I suppose."
"But had Great Britain chosen at any time to renew
the conflict, was there anything to pre-
vent her from doing so?" inquired the
teacher.
Tom stood while he thought, and Fred
Breiinerman raised his hand.
" I think Great Britain wrote us a let-
ter, telling us we were free," he said.
"A letter? That would have read
something like this," said the teacher,
scarcely able to conceal a twinkle in his
eye:
" LONDON.
" Brother Jonathan :
"DEAR SIR, — You are free.
" Yours for peace, JOHN BULL."
The class burst into a laugh.
If you were called upon to draw up a
contract between Great Britain on one
side and the United States on the oth-
er, how would you begin it? Whom
would you have sign it? What man is
empowered to write his name, and by
that act bind all of us sixty-five million
Americans?
Contracts between nations are formal
affairs, not alone in themselves, but in
the preparations for executing them. It
would not have taken George III. of
Great Britain long to write a letter to
"Brother Jonathan telling him he was
free. But such a letter would not have
satisfied even democratic Jefferson,
much less British royalty.
There were many things to do af-
ter we had whipped the Hessians and
got possession of Corn wall is's sword.
Tbe first thing was to get from the King of England a
statement that he and his ministers were willing formal-
ly to acknowledge American independence. When this
was done three American commissioners went to Paris, in
order to be upon neutral territory, and there they met one
David Hartley, who had been named by the King to rep-
resent Great Britain. Each spent some time examining
the other's credentials, to see that tbey were treating with
the right parties. When fully satisfied on this important
matter, they took a few sheets of common and rather
coarse white paper, nine by fifteen inches in size and
folded once, and at the top of the first page of it they
wrote, in a coarse and crude hand, "In the name of the
most holy and undivided Trinity."
Leaving a space of about an inch, they began in a little
smaller but a not less crude hand :
"It having pleased the Divine Providence to dispose
the heart of the Most Serene and Most Potent Prince
George the Third, by the Grace of God King of Great
Britain, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, and
Prince of the Holy Roman Empire, and the United States
of America to forget all past misunderstandings and dif-
ferences that have unhappily interrupted the good cor-
respondence and friendship which they mutually wish to
restore," etc.
Writing in unbroken lines across the entire page, on
both sides of the paper, and frequently referring each to
the other as "High Mightinesses," these commissioners
filled nearly four sheets of the paper, and at the end they
signed their names. David Hartley signed first, and lie
placed his name away up in the left-hand corner, just
THE TREATY OF VERSAILLES.
under the last line of the text, where it appears almost
crowded off the paper by the names of the American
signers, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and John Jay.
They tied the sheets together with some very narrow
and very cheap blue ribbon, the ends of which they fast-
ened to the paper with patches of red sealing-wax. This
wax they needlessly burned in placing it just at the left
of their signatures.
This is the Definitive Treaty of Versailles, now yellow
and faded. By it Great Britain formally renounced all
claim to the thirteen original States. These four sheets
of cheap paper, with their " High Mightinesses," their
"Most Potents," and their faded blue ribbon, constitute
the official close of the Revolutionary war.
At the beginning of this century France owned Louisi-
ana, and the United States sought to buy a bit of territory
on the east bank of the Mississippi River at the very time
that Napoleon wanted money to destroy England's mer-
chant marine. Napoleon replied that for a round sum
lie would sell Louisiana — the whole, and not a part of it —
and that the quicker the bargain was made the better it
would suit him.
Our treaty purchase of Louisiana is written wholly in
56
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
French, and though affecting millions of Enylis
ing people, it lias never been officially translated into
English. It is written upon eight pages of very white,
and even now very fresh, paper. But it does not fill the
pages, because the engrosser of it began well to the right
of the page, and allowed his lines to run badly up hill.
There are many expressions of love contained in it.
Indeed, the whole treaty is most extravagant in the use
of terms of mutual admiration. The shrewd First Con-
sul did not, however, forget the business part of the trans-
action. Attached to this extraordinary record of inter-
national puffery is a practical document — a sort of awak-
ening to the prose of dollars and cents — by which the
United States agrees to pay France a large sum of money.
The amount, carefully stated, is 60,000,000 francs.
But it was a capital bargain for the. purchaser. These
sheets of paper represent the title-deed to almost all of our
national territory lying west of the Mississippi River. It
is signed by Marbois on behalf of Napoleon, First Consul
of France, and by James Monroe and Robert Livingston
for the United States. There are no ribbons through the
seals, and the sheets are not fastened together. By this
bargain, told in a few up-hill lines in a foreign tongue, we
added more square miles of territory to our domain than
we did by winning the war for independence and nego-
tiating the more formal Treaty of Versailles.
If you were buying a new State for our Union, and
had a King for one client and several millions of sover-
eign people for the other, and chanced to begin writing
the contract with the wrong words, you would throw
aside the sheet of paper, especially if it were coarse and
cheap, take a new one, and begin again. The man who
drew up the treat}' by which we acquired the State of
Florida was not so particular. He took some exceeding-
ly poor paper, eight by twelve inches in size, and began
to write. He wrote some wrong words, ran his pen
through them, and began again. The lines he divided in
the middle of the page, and he made the paragraphs to
correspond in length. The lines on the left-hand half of
the page are made up of English words; on the right,
those of Spanish words. Of course both lines say the
same thing.
The King of Spain is not mentioned by name, but by
the title of "His Catholic Majesty.'' The writing is on
both sides of the sheet, which is folded once — at the left —
and the edges are now much frayed. The sheets are tied
with very narrow lavender ribbon. Attached to the
treat}' is the ratification, signed by Ferdinand 011 the
Spanish half of the page, and by John Quincy Adams
and James Monroe on the English half.
The President's proclamation, announcing the purchase
and its ratification by the United States Senate, is at-
tached. Curiously enough, another mistake was made
in beginning the proclamation. The clerk wrote the
President's private name, and followed it with his title.
But Presidential proclamations, from Washington to
Cleveland, have always begun, l; By the President of the
United States of America, A Proclamation.'1 So the clerk
scratched out the President's name, and between the ugly
erasures wrote in the correct words.
It has many times happened that Secretaries of State,
and even Commissioners specially delegated for the pur-
pose, have drawn up treaties and signed them, only to see
the United States Senate repudiate their work. These
are called "Unfinished Treaties," and many large envel-
opes filled with them are preserved in our national ar-
chives. Three or four such treaties were drawn during
President Harrison's term, and in one of these envelopes
are two early and official attempts of Texas to get into
our Union. Indeed, all treaties relating to Texas are in
these envelopes, for we acquired our largest State by joint
resolution of Congress, dated December 29, 1845, and not
by treaty at all.
The legal document by which Alaska is officially made
a part of the United States of America is no such com-
monplace affair as the one that let Louisiana in, nor such
a cheap bundle of paper rags, with its bungling errors
and ugly blots, as Florida got in on.
Alaska came in with the finest parchment — the real
skin of the calf. The treaty and President Johnson's
proclamation are bound together. Six blank pages, ten
by fourteen inches in size, were left vacant at the begin-
ning, but ruled very near the edge by one pale red line.
Then begins the proclamation, announcing to the world
that Alaska belongs not to Russia, but to America. The
lines extend across the entire page, and are so exquisitely
written that they might have slipped out of your copy-
books. The treaty proper lias an illuminated heading,
and begins. " Au noni de la Tres Sainte et Indivisible
Trinite" (in the name of the very Holv and Indivisible
Trinity).
Down the middle of each page is a faint blue line. On
the left of this line is the English version; oil the right,
the Russian, written in French. These English and
French versions are signed by William H. Seward and
Robert de Stoecke. The seals are very large, and holes
are cut in the paper against which they are folded, to
gain space for them, and to prevent them from breaking.
Including the joint resolution of Congress by which
we acquired Texas, these four contracts, all, save one,
urittcii upon cheap paper and kept in common manilla
envelopes in pigeon-holes of an ordinary cupboard, form
the legal titles to all, except a mere fraction, of our terri-
tory. They are the original treaties — the warranty -
deeds to our territory.
The first title to the New World, however, is much
older than any of these documents, and, next to Magna
Charta and the Declaration of Independence, it is the
most celebrated original manuscript in existence — in a
political sense, at least. This famous manuscript is the
commission signed by King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella,
appointing Christopher Columbus Admiral of his famous
fleet and Governor of all the lands he should discover.
It is owned by the great Admiral's lineal descendant, the
Duke of Veragua, and was by him exhibited at Chicago
in 1893, where, doubtless, many saw it in the Convent of
La Rahida.
This commission is written in a very fine and very
quaint hand, still preserved witli remarkable clearness,
upon parchment that is fourteen by twenty inches in size,
the lines going lengthwise of the sheet. It is without a
fold, and the royal signatures are so close to the body of
the text as to be with difficulty distinguished from it.
There is no introductory line, such as one usually finds at
the head of state papers. It begins, however, much as do
proclamations of the present day, showing that we bor-
rowed our formula for the Presidential proclamations
from the same nation that gave us a name for our unit
of money. The parchment of this Columbus commis-
sion is now quite yellow, though well preserved . Indeed,
it is better preserved than our own Ivdaration of Inde-
pendence, which it made possible, and which it ante-
dates by 284 years.
A DIVING ISLAND.
BY DAVID KEE.
ND do you mean to tell me, Mr. Readon, as how
you've seed hislands come up to the top of the
water to breathe, like whales, and then go down again?"
"Indeed I have, my man, and so have plenty more
people, too. If you want to see an island of that sort,
tlicr/' is one now, before your very eyes !" And Professor
Readon pointed, as he spoke, to the dark steeple-shaped
mass of volcanic rock which, towering 2600 feet
NOVEMBER 27, 1S94.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
57
above the smooth bright surface of the Mediterranean,
with its halo of pale light playing restlessly around
its rocky brow, looked like a colossal image of some saint
or martyr of the olden time. "Two thousand years
ago,'' continued the great scientist, "that thing came
hissing up through the water piping hot. and, as you
see, it lias kept hot ever since."
"Bui it hasn't gone down again, though, "cried the old
seaman, triumphantly. " Come, now ; it's come up, but
it hasn't gone down."
"No, it hasn't gone down," said Dr. Reacloii, "but I
could tell you of plenty of others which have. Just
where we are now an island came up in 1861, which was
called Graham's Island, and had the British flag hoisted
upon it. It sank again a few months later, and came up
a second time about three years ago, in the summer of
1863; but you won't find it now, for at the spot where it
lay there is now a depth of 700 fathoms of water."
" I say, is all that really true?" asked the veteran, look-
ing hard into the speaker's face, as if expecting to tind
some trace of a smile of mockery lurking there.
" You'll find it in any old newspaper of that time, if
you don't believe me," answered the Professor, quietly;
"and, besides, that's only one case out of many. In 1783
the islet of Nynoe rose from the sea off the coast of Ice-
land, and sank again at the end of a year. Off St. Michael,
in the Azores, a small rocky islet has appeared and dis-
appeared at the same spot five times in the last two cen-
turies, and its last apparition took place only a few
months ago, as I can bear witness, for I saw it myself."
" Well, I am blowed!" gasped the ancient mariner, in
a paroxysm of disbelief.
"And you'll see marked on plenty of old charts,"
went on the imperturbable Professor, as composedly as
ever, "a rock called 'The Three Chimneys' (which no
man of our time has ever seen) on the course from the
west coast of Ireland to Newfoundland. But what of
that? The same force which throws up a stone out of a
volcano would suffice, if increased a hundredfold or a
thousandfold, to throw up an entire island just as easily.
I don't see anything so wonderful in all that."
"Don't yer? Well, I do .'" rejoined the old sailor, with
significant emphasis.
On her way up the Levant the steamer touched at Saii-
torini, one of the southernmost islands of the Greek Archi-
pelago; and old Ben Gaskett asked, with a sly twinkle in
his dark gray eye,
"Is this one o' them diviii1 hislands you was a-telliiv
us about t'other day, Mr. Readout"
" I don't know about its diving, my man, but it is un-
doubtedly volcanic."
" Well, I s'pose that's wot makes everything so precious
hot," growled the honest tar, wiping his streaming fore-
head.
" Do you know, I rather think that conies from the
heat of the sea," observed Dr. Readon, as quietly as ever.
"Wot? the sea git b'ilin' hot!" cried Gaskett, with an
air of desperation, as if this were too much to bear.
" Well, fish up a bucketful, and try for yourself, if you
don't believe me," said the immovable Professor, with a
placid smile.
"So 'tis, by jingo! it's b'ilin', and no mistake!" cried
the astonished seaman, dipping his finger into the bucket
that he had drawn up. and hastily withdrawing it.
"Well, I've seed the water warm in the Gulf Stream,
but that warn't nothin' to this; why, I'm blowed if yer
couldn't bile a hegg in it!"
"Very likely, Mr. Gaskett," rejoined the scientist, be-
coming suddenly grave; "and that's a sign, unless I'm
very greatly mistaken, that you're going to see a sample
of the ' volcanic action ' about which you have heard me
talk such as you won't forget in a hurry."
In fact, once or twice in the course of that morning
the smooth surface of the bay was suddenly and strangely
agitated, though not a breath of wind was stirring; ;ui'l
on each of these occasions a weird, hollow, unearthly
rumble came sullenly from the depths below.
"Daddy Neptune's been and cotched a cold, "said one
of the sailors, forcing a laugh; but his mates were in no
mood to join in the merriment, for these mysterious
phenomena, following so closely upon the equally mys-
terious hints of the Professor, made them all more un-
easy than they would have cared to confess.
All at once a louder rumbling was heard, the water
boiled and bubbled like a seething caldron, several huge
waves came rolling in upon the shore, making the an-
chored steamer rock like a toy, and then, to the amaze-
ment and terror of all who beheld it, a small rocky islet
heaved itself up in the centre of the bay to a height of
more than thirty feet above the surface.
As soon as the convulsion had subsided Professor Rea-
doii turned to the astounded Captain, and said, as coolly
as if the whole thing had taken place by preconcerted ar-
rangement,
"Captain Barnes, if you can spare me one of your
boats for half an hour or so I should like to examine that
island a little."
" You're quite welcome to the boat," answered the Cap-
tain, with a grin; "but if you mean to land upon that
island, I expect you'll have a job of it to get anybody to
go along with you."
In fact, so far from being slow of belief any longer, the
sailors, after what they had just seen, were now ready to
believe anything upon earth; and for some time they
turned a deaf ear to all the Doctor's persuasions to ven-
ture near the " blowed-up hisland." At last old Ben
Gaskett said, with impressive solemnity,
"Well, Mr. Readoii, if you'll promise as how that 'ere
hisland sha'ii't go down again until we gits clear of it,
we'll take the risk."
The Professor at once gave the required pledge, for his
knowledge of such phenomena was sufficient to assure
him that there was 110 immediate danger, and a few
minutes later the boat was on its way to the new-born
island.
As they n eared it, Ben Gaskett (who was steering) gave
a sudden start, and called out in a tone of the utmost
astonishment, "Why, I'm a Dutchman if there ain't
houses 011 it!"
" So there are, sure enough," cried the Professor, look-
ing keenly at the mysterious island. " Well, there, you
see, is a plain proof that this island must have risen and
gone down again once before, for they don't build houses
at the bottom of the sea."
In truth, every man of them could now see plainly
among the rocks of the strange island two small but solid
and well-built houses of hewn stone, of the type which
one now sees only amid the ruins of Ephesus and other
ancient Greek cities. A slight hesitation was visible
among the crew as their boat ran alongside of this loco-
motive territory; but when they saw Professor Readon
spring ashore, the curiosity of the sailors fairly gained
the upper hand of their terror, and having made fast the
boat, they crowded after him as eagerly as boys at a peep-
show.
The two buildings — the larger of which appeared to
have been a dwelling-house, and the other a kind of out-
building attached to it — were both in the old classic style,
and Dr. Readou, having examined their materials and
style of architecture, pronounced them to be at least two
thousand years old.
Masses of seaweed clung to the graceful columns, and
the interior was almost blocked up with the drifted sand;
but the masonry itself was in excellent preservation, and
there was even an inscription legible above the principal
entrance of the larger building-, which the Professor de-
58
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
clared to be Greek, and translated as follows, for the
benefit of the admiring sailors, " Glaucon, the son of
Theophrastus, a merchant of Rhodes, built this house."
" Well, I'm glad we've been able to have such a good
sight of this,"' said Dr. Readon, as he at length (after mak-
ing a hasty sketch of this curious " antique ") reluctantly
gave the signal for departure, " for I doubt very much if
we shall ever get another chance."
Nor did they ; for when, two months later, they touched
again at Sautoriui 011 their homeward voyage, they found
that this "diving island " had taken another plunge, and
was gone ns if it had never been.
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
CHAPTER VII.
TROUBLES OF A NEW REPUBLIC.
fllHE troubles which had broken out in Brazil in the
J. autumn were rapidly reaching their climax. It was
a curious spectacle upon which the entire civilized world
was looking with interest. The navy of a large and
powerful republic had revolted against the government,
and, shut up in a few stanch cruisers, lay at anchor in
front of the capital city, which it bombarded with great
regularity, but little accuracy. The ostensible cause of
the revolt was the veto by President Peixoto of a law
making it impossible for him to be his own successor in
'office. The true cause was a determination to restore
the monarchical government in Brazil. Week after
week, month after mouth, the insurgent fleet continued
its depredations, in spite of the belief that the rebellion
must speedily collapse for the want of funds and muni-
tions of war. Somehow these necessaries found their
way into the hands of the rebel chiefs, but it was not
until Admiral Mello was deposed and Admiral Da Gama
placed in command that the latter's declaration in favor
of monarchy revealed the true state of affairs. But
President Peixoto found himself equal to the demands of
the time. Trusted agents in New York set about organiz-
ing a fleet. The merchant steamers El del and Britit nil /a
were purchased, and hastily transformed into cruisers.
Both were supplied with torpedo tubes and effective bat-
teries of rapid-fire guns. In addition to these, El Cid,
rechristened Nictheroy, after a suburb of Rio de Janeiro,
was provided with a dynamite gun — a new and untested
weapon whose value in warfare was an unknown quan-
tity. Admiral Da Gama had once inspected dynamite
guns in New York, and had made a report on them to
his government. He had a wholesome respect for the
weapon. Furthermore, the agents of the Brazilian Pres-
ident had purchased the Ericsson submarine gun-vessel,
a Yarrow torpedo-boat, and five German torpedo-boats.
It was the rumor in Rio Harbor that the government
fleet was to assemble in some one of the sequestered har-
bors along the northeastern coast of Brazil, and thence
steal down upon Da Gama. Shut up in Rio Harbor,
with the shore batteries behind him and the loyal fleet
blocking the entrance to the bay, his position would be
precarious.
But Da Gama was not disposed to wait in idleness for
the decisive blow. He stole in and out of the harbor at
unexpected times, so that no one could tell just where he
was. With his fleet, consisting of the Aquidaban, com-
manded by the deposed Mello, the Republica,Tirad&ntes,
Guanabara, Libertade, Tamandare, Trajano, and a few
smaller vessels, he hovered like a mysterious pirate among
the islands of the bay, and occasionally opened fire upon
the city.
The harbor of Rio de Janeiro is justly celebrated as the
most beautiful in the world. The entrance is between
two bold points, 1700 yards apart. Just inside, and
nearer to the western point, Fort Lage rises out of the
water. On the eastern point stands Fort Santa Cruz
and a fixed white light, visible six miles. On the western
point are forts San Joao and St. Theodosio. The harbor
extends almost north and south. Outside of the eastern
point of entrance, about a mile to the southeast, is Flora
Point, from which runs back a spur of mountains nearly
1100 feet high. Three-quarters of a mile to the south-
ward of Fort San Joao the Pao de Acucari, or Sugar Loaf,
lifts its domelike back 1270 feet above the level of the
sea.
Inside the entrance the harbor widens out. On the
easterly side, behind Jurujuba Point, a little over a mile
north-northeast of Fort Santa Cruz, opens the bight of
Three Fathom Bay — a large expanse of shallow water,
bordered by San Francisco Xavier Beach on the east and
by Carahy Beach on the north. The northern boundary
of Three Fathom Bay is a neck of land half a mile wide,
at whose outer extremities are two forts, Boa Yiagem
and Gravata. Now conies another bight, forming Praia
Grande Bay, on which fronts the town of Nitheroy or
Nictheroy. To the northward of Nictheroy is Arcia
Point, a bold head-land rising to a height of 550 feet, and
beyond this is a cluster of hilly islands.
Inside the entrance on the western side is a small
bight, bordered by Urea and Botofogo beaches, and ex-
tending to Flamingo Point, one mile west of Fort San
Joao. Flamingo and Freiras beaches extend to the north-
ward a mile and two-thirds, when the city of Rio de Ja-
neiro is reached. Five-eighths of a mile off shore to the
southeast lies the island of Yillegaignon, on which there
is a strong fort. Two hundred yards off the point at the
northeastern extremity of the city is the Isle de Cobras, on
which there is a fine dock, 385 feet long. Between these
two islands is the anchorage for men-of-war, and to the
northwest of Cobras Island is the anchorage for merchant
vessels. Rat Island, on which the Custom-house stands, is
250 yards outside of Cobras Island. Enchadas Island faces
the city a little over five-eighths of a mile north of the Isla
de Cobras. To the northward the harbor opens out into a
magnificent bay. The coast-line around Rio de Janeiro
Harbor is over sixty miles in extent. There are from
eight to ten fathoms of water on the bar at the entrance,
while inside the depth runs from ten fathoms several
miles above the city to twenty-eight half a mile north of
Fort Lage.
These facts are necessary to a thorough understanding
of the incidents about to be described in this story; but
they give no idea of the enchanting beauty of Rio de
Janeiro Harbor. Those who have ascended the Hudson
River in a steamboat may conceive some faint idea of
the glories of Rio Harbor by calling to mind the passage
of the river between the mountains near West Point.
But at Rio you come in from the open sea and behold
the mountains apparently rising out of the rich blue
waters. As you pass in you are close enough to see the
luxuriant wealth of the tropical vegetation on the sides
of the acclivities, and when you have entered the bay
you are in a vast and splendid natural basin, with the
dwellings and towers of the city rising proudly on your
left against a background of flashing waters and olive
mountain slopes.
CHAPTER VIII.
UNDER A FOREIGN FLAG.
WE must now go back to a time previous to the events
of the last chapter. The Aquidaban was lying at anchor
with her consorts far up the harbor off Engenha Island.
The silence and luscious warmth of the tropical night
were about her. Near at hand the dark hulls of the
other vessels of the fleet showed black and threatening
NOVEMBKK 27. 1S94,
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
59
against the starlit waters. At some distance away lay
the war-ships of the foreign powers represented in Rio
Harbor. Great Britain, the haughty " ruler of the seas,"
had three cruisers there; Italy, three; Germany, two;
France and Portugal, each one. "Old Glory," as the
American flag has come to be called, was not represented
in the bay except by unfortunate merchant ships. These
were compelled to endure all kinds of high-handed treat-
ment by the insurgents, who asserted that they were con-
veying stores to the government.
No sound, except the clinking of the cables as the ves-
sels rode to the tide, and an occasional snatch of sailor
song from a wandering boat, broke the silence that sur-
rounded the dark men-of-war. Leaning over the quarter-
rail of the Aquidaban was a young man whom his Naval
Academy friends would hardly have recognized as Frank
Lockwood. The deep sunburn on his face did not hide
the heavy hollows under his eyes, nor the deep lines
around his mouth. Frank looked ten years older than
he was on the day when Harold and George had parted
from him in his uncle's house. The boy stared at the
blinking lights of the distant city, and heaved a sigh that
was almost a groan. A light footstep followed by a tap
on the shoulder caused him to start.
" Ah, Roderigo," he said, "is it you?"
"Si, amigo mio. You seem not happy," said Lieu-
tenant Roderigo Bennos.
It was the young officer who had shown the boy over
the Aquidaban, in New York Harbor.
" No, I'm not," replied Frank, shortly.
" Why, are you not happy? Here we fight much — all
the time — every day. That is what you say you want."
"But such fighting!" exclaimed Frank. "We lie hid
two-thirds of the time behind some of these accommo-
dating islands. About five o'clock in the afternoon we
steam out, and in a most leisurely manner throw a few
shells over in the direction of the city. Perhaps we hit
the sea-wall in front of the Custom-house; perhaps we
hit the heights beyond the town. We knock off for
supper, smoke our pipes, fire a few more shells, go back
to our anchorage, and — go to sleep. Pshaw! Why, an
American naval officer would scare this whole fleet out
of the water."
'"Sh-sh! Not so loud. Not that kind of talk. You
will be heard; then court-martial. The Admiral thinks
to tire out the President."
"Well, he'll never tire out Peixoto by plugging those
hills full of iron."
"You will see. We shall win yet."
" How is it possible?" demanded Frank. "Here we are
practically penned up in these ships, and unable to get a
footing on the land. Every time we try it we are driv-
en back with a considerable loss, and we have no men
to spare."
" That will be all right," replied Bennos, confidently.
"The land column will march up from Rio Grande do
Sul. Then we will win."
Frank shook his head, and gazed out over the still
waters. Bennos laid his hand on the boy's shoulder.
"I know what makes you unhappy," he said, kindly.
" Do you?" said Frank, with awakening interest.
" Yes," continued the Brazilian. " You are not happy
because you have no heart in this fight."
" That's true, Roderigo. What difference does it make
to me whether we win or not? I've shipped with Ad-
miral Da Gama, and I've taken his money. I've sold
myself, and I'll stick to my bargain. My body belongs
to the Admiral, and I must shed my blood for him if
necessary. But what do I care for his success? I'm a
miserable hireling. And that is not all."
"No?"
" No. I came down here to look for my missing cou-
sin Robert, and I can get no chance to do anything."
"But you have learned something, amigo iiu'n."
" I know that a lad answering his description deserted
from the Tamandare when she joined the insurgents, and
is now in the service of President Peixoto on shore, where
I cannot reach him."
" But when we have conquered —
"I might find his dead body slain by my companions
in arms."
" I am sorry," said Bennos, taking the boy's hand.
At that moment the bugle sounded.
"Ah!" exclaimed Frank. "The usual evening fire-
works, eh?"
"Yes; we shall bombard the city some more."
The two young men went to their stations at the 70-
pounder Armstrongs. The heavy guns in the turrets
were under the command of more experienced officers.
Steam was already up, and the Aqitidaban, followed by
three of her consorts in single column at distances of 200
yards apart, moved slowly and majestically out from the
cover of the island. Frank listened with some contempt
to the directions of the division officers. He had already
learned to understand all the commands in the strange
tongue, and he smiled when he heard the range given
out.
"Going to pepper the hills again, "he said to himself.
"Well, this gun of mine is out to hit something before
this night's work is done. I'm sick of this fooling."
An American man-of-war's man would have been
amused at the leisurely way in which the Brazilians went
about the work of warfare, as exemplified in the business
of bombarding. Ten minutes after the Aquidaban had
taken up her position there was a brilliant flash, lighting
up all the surrounding waters with a red glare, a deep-
mouthed roar, and a rattling jar of the whole ship. Frank
peered out of his port.
"That's one of the forward nine-inches," he muttered,
"and I think I know just where to look for the explosion
of the shell."
The projectiles of the modern rifles do not leave a trail
of fire behind them as they go speeding through the air,
because they do not carry the old-fashioned fuse which is
lighted by the burning of the powder in the gun. They
are exploded by a percussion fuse, and they rush through
the darkness of night unseen.
"There she goes," murmured Frank, as he detected a
flash of red light far up the hill-side behind the city.
" They'll have an iron mine up there in the year 1900.
Now we'll see the Republica plant a shell in the same
safe spot."
Boom ! The RepubJica's gun spoke, sarcastically com-
menting on the ship's name by arguing in favor of mon-
archy.
" That's it," soliloquized Frank. " Same old place. I
wonder if the people in the Rua di Ouvidor take off their
hats as the shells go over?"
All the members of Frank's gun crew were gathered
at the ports watching the firing, so the young man quietly
went to the breech of the gun and reduced the range in-
dicated by the breech-sight by 750 yards.
"There," he said to himself. "There's going to be a
surprise party this evening."
The firing proceeded for half an hour, each ship in
turn discharging one gun, before it was Frank's turn.
He smiled slightly as he gave the word,
"Fire!"
The gun captain jerked the lanyard, the gun roared,
and the 70-pound shell whistled off through the gloom.
A few seconds later a dull report, a flash of light, and a
crash near the water-front of the city showed that Frank's
subtraction had been most accurate. The effect of that
telling shot was as if a hornet's nest had been struck.
Lights flashed along the water-front and up the hill-side.
Tongues of fire shot out far down the bay, followed by
"FJHE1"
heavy reverberating reports, showing that Fort Santa
Cruz had opened fire on Fort Villegaignon. Bugles
blared and drums rattled, and for half an hour, as the hills
hurled the myriad noises back and forth from peak to
peak, pandemonium reigned. Then, as suddenly as they
had begun, the forts relapsed into a sullen silence. The
flashing of lights along the water-front of the city ceased.
The order " Cease firing" was signalled from theAqnida-
ban to her consorts, and the three ships moved solemnly
back to their anchorage behind the island.
"You are respectfully invited to attend our exhibitions
of fireworks every evening from nine to ten,'' said Frank,
under his breath, as he watched his crew securing the
gun. " Coffee and cigarettes will be served out after the
exercises."
The boy shook his head, and added, bitterly:
''I'm an idiot! How could I suppose that I would
fight with enthusiasm under a foreign flag? Oh, Harold,
old boy, if I only had you alongside to heave me a line
and keep me from going adrift when I was about to ship
for Bio!"
"All secure, sir, "reported the gun captain, and Frank
repeated the report to the division officer. The bugles
should have sounded the retreat, but discipline was not
strict in the. insurgent fleet, and the division officer care-
lessly commanded Frank to dismiss his crew.
" Leave your quarters," said the boy to his men. Then
he went out on deck again and resumed his unprofitable
occupation of leaning over the quarter-rail and commun-
ing with his own spirit. Fortunately Bennos soon joined
him, and led his thoughts into higher channels.
"Come, amigo mi'o,"lie said. ''You must not think
any more to-night. We must go below."
They went down to the half-deck, as that part of the
gun-deck immediately in front of the ward-room is called,
and there they found a gay party of young officers smok-
ing cigarettes, laughing, talking, playing the guitar, and
otherwise behaving as if a rebellion against one's coun-
try and a night bombardment were holiday amusements.
One of the younger men, noting the sober look on Frank's
face, began to sing, in badly broken English, "Annie
Rooney," which he had learned while the ship was in
New York waters. Frank broke into a hearty laugh,
and said:
" Oh, I'm going to turn in. Good-night, you fellows.
Hope to see you all at the bombardment to-morrow even-
ing."
" Good-night, sharp-shooter !" called one of the young
men after him.
Frank was up bright and early the next morning, for
he had not yet ceased to enjoy the beauties of the tropical
forenoon. Bennos joined him on deck. A few minutes
later they observed a good deal of hustling about on some
of the foreign war-ships. Men were seen going to the
mast-heads, and reports were signalled from one ship to
another.
"I wonder what those fellows can see?" said Frank.
"Let's get permission from the officer of the deck to go
aloft. We can see over the point of the island."
The permission was granted, and the two young men
were soon at the foremast-head. Far down the bay a
white ship was cutting the blue waters with slow and
steady prow.
Frank gazed at her steadily for a few minutes, and
then his face turned pale, while his lips trembled with
strong emotion.
"What is the trouble?" asked Bennos.
"Can you not see? Yonder comes the United States
cruiser Charleston. She is sent here to protect American
interests against us — against me ! And here am I, en-
listed to fight against my own flag!"
"But surely there will be no h'ghting, amigo. There
is but one American ship."
"But one! Do you think the government at Wash-
ington will stop there? I tell you, Eoderigo, there are
more ships to follow that one. What have I done with
my life?"
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THANKSGIVING AT THE EDSONS'.
BY RICHARD BARRY.
seen ''dear grandpa" before, had chirruped their way
into the old man's affections, and had touched chords of
tenderness and love that had long been hidden under the
hard strong-willed exterior. Late in the spring — just
before they had moved South — had the children visited
the old place again for a few short happy days. It was
haying-time; bumble-bees were climbing in and out of
honeysuckles, crows were cawing, and thrushes singing
in the woods; the air was full of scents; and in all this
world there is no such a ride to be had as that on top of
a soft, swaying load of hay. Oh ! the delight of it all —
the swallows that played harlequin in and out of the
holes in the gables of old stained barns, and the owl that
used to " whoo! whoo!'' at night in the orchard!
When they had to go back to town, old Flint, who.
as I once said, had earned that name because he had been
so "hard," stood on the station platform waving a good-
EAELY in the summer Franklin Edson, the city mis-
sionary, had accepted a call to leave New York and
take charge of a little church in eastern, Virginia.
His long work in the city had begun to tell on him;
he was feeling worn and tired. But what he hated most
was to see his dear wife's face becoming thinner, and her
slender earnest hands becoming slenderer and whiter;
for she never could get out of the habit of working for
other people, and taking their sorrows home with her at
night.
The little Edsons were as bright as ever, but they had
begun to have that kept-in look that most town children
have; and it was so far from where the^y lived to the Park
and sunshine, they had been hemmed in by busy narrow
streets and tall crowded tenements, with stuffy little
back yards filled with rubbish and creaking clothes-lines.
So the Rev. Edson had left the great work that will
never end as long as people
huddle together in great cities,
and had gone down to take
charge of the little white church
at Lonely Pines.
Here they lived in a little
house that stood a few hundred
yards from the white church it-
self. From the rickety front,
gate they could see four and
one-half other houses; for one
had been burned, all but one
wing (during the war), and the
ruined walls had never been
torn down. That is about all
there was to see, except a long
tobacco-shed at the end of a
great wide field, and a negro
cabin with a i'e\v tall sunflowers
ruling it over a patch of gar-
den. There was a good deal
of sameness at Lonely Pines.
The little Edsons had never
ceased to talk of the times they
had had "at grandpa's," up in
New England, and the people
up there had never ceased to
talk of the wondrous change
that had come over old "Flint "
Edson since Frank, his only
son, had first brought the'little
Edsous to the farm for New-
Year's week. This change
was as astonishing as if a with-
ered apple had turned into a
great big rose, and Grandma
Edson had actually grown
young again — she had found
once more the pretty little
laugh and the sparkle in her
eyes that she had when she
was a girl.
It was a year now since Flint
Edson's heart had softened tow-
ards the world one night, as if
an angel had smoothed it with
a touch; one year since he had
forgiven his only son Frank for
becoming a missionary and
marrying a city school-teacher,
instead of coming back to the
farm.
The little Edsons, who won-
dered why they had never THE LITTLE EDSONS HAD NEVER BEEN IN A SLEEPING-CAR BEFORE.
C2
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
by with liis hat, two big tears rolling down to his coarse
grizzly beard.
They were all well and not at all unhappy at Lonely
Pines. The air was fine, the sky was blue, and the wind
used to sigh and whisper through the trees as it came up
from the sea at night. But there were no mountains, no
joyful brook that swept under the shadows of old gray
bridges and danced out into the meadows, no long stone
walls that climbed up the pasture hills, along the tops of
which the sheep used to walk against the sky. There
was no view down the valley to where the river spread
out, narrowed again, and roared over the dam at the
busy singing saw-mill. There was nothing to do but the
same things over and over again. Nothing to see but
skimpy pines, and sand, and old fields, and polite people
who were poor, and who drove to church from all direc-
tions in their worn-out carriages and their best clothes
on Sundays. There were the colored people, of course,
who were poorer and quite as polite, who sang and
worked slowly in the sun all day long. Thus it was no
wonder that the little Edsons used to talk of the times
"at grandpa's."
The fall had come upon Virginia, the wild-geese could
be heard honking up in the sky. and, joy of joys! the
Edsons, one and all, were going to make the long trip up
to New England to spend Thanksgiving day.
Tired from the excitement of a long journey in the
cars, perhaps it would have been better had they rested
on their way and spent the night in New York. But this
is what they did not do. Mr. Edson had left the chil-
dren and their mother to continue the rest of the trip in
the sleeping-car that left on the night express, while he
staid in the city to attend to some important business,
meaning to follow on the next day, and join them later
on at Milford Centre for the Thanksgiving feast at Bun-
Oak farm.
Little did poor Mrs. Edson think as she bade good-by
to her husband at the Grand Central Station that she was
going to have an experience the memory of which would
never leave her.
The little Edsons had never been in a sleeping-car be-
fore. They looked with wonder at the white-coaled por-
ter as he pulled down the ceiling into big shelves, and
turned the shelves into neat little beds with red blankets
and very small pillows; they almost forgot they were
sleepy as they watched a fat old gentleman climb into
an upper berth. Their own section was made up last,
and Grace and little Lola and the dolls said their prayers
and were soon tucked in the lower half, and their mother
was smiling at them reassuringly over the edge of the
upper one.
"Now don't be frightened, little girls," she said, "mo-
ther's here." What comforting words these are to little
people !
Harry, the eldest, who had spent most of his early even-
ing talking to the brakeman in the back part of the car,
slept with his mother.
The train roared angrily under bridges, and shot along
through towns and forests out into the open moonlit
country ; it swung about curves and past sleeping villages,
with the wheels always keeping up one tune — now faster,
now slower, but always the same old tune. The whistle
blew every now and then, and it seemed to say, "Hurrah !
hurrah! we're all right!" And at last the little Edsons
fell asleep.
Two or three times during the early part of the night
Mrs. Edson had looked down at the little girls as they
lay there sharing one of the small pillows between them.
At last, lulled by the song of the wheels, she too fell fast
asleep, and did not wake up again for four long hours.
When she did it was very early morning; little Harry
was wide-awake beside her. He had raised an edge of
the window-shade and was looking out at the fast-fleeing
fences and telegraph-poles, and at the great red sun climb-
ing up out of the clouds in the east.
"We'll soon be at grandpa's, mamma," he said.
It was almost time to begin to dress, and Mrs. Edson
looked over the edge of the berth. Only one of the little
figures and one doll were there. Mrs. Edson's heart al-
most stopped with horror. Just as she was she slipped
down into the aisle of the car, and just as they were the
other passengers slipped down too, for her scream had
aroused even the sleepy porter dozing on his camp-stool.
"Lola! Lola!" shouted the poor distracted woman.
"Where is Gracie? Where is Gracie?"
. The poor baby, awakened so suddenly, began to cry.
"Gracie! Gracie!" she wept, repeating her mother's
words.
Mrs. Edson felt as if she were dreaming — she must be
dreaming some horrible, horrible dream. "Gone! gone!"
she said, in a hoarse voice, pointing at the berth. " She
isn't there — my little girl — she isn't there!"
A kind old lady, with her hair in curl-papers and a
shawl thrown over her shoulders, put her arm about
Mrs. Edson's waist. "She must be in the car," she whis-
pered. "Don't take on so — don't take on so, dearie."
She forced her down, and sat beside her on the berth.
Men were hurrying on their clothes and stamping into
their boots, and the trainmen came rushing up.
Mrs. Edson found herself praying — praying out loud;
and as she prayed the thought came to her frightfully,
Gracie had once or twice walked from her bed when fast
asleep. As she thought of this she would have fallen
had not the old lady held her close. Oh yes, yes; it
must be a dream ! It could not be true ! She would
soon wake up. But there were the people all about her,
and there was the conductor, who was asking her some
questions in a whisper, with a frightened look oil his
face. Somebody said, "It's the last car." But Mrs.
Edson could not hear anything. She was telling her-
self that she would soon wake up again. She felt numb
and cold.
Just then the train, which had been slowing gradual-
ly, stopped suddenly at a small station, and a man came
running down the car. "For Mrs. Edson, Train 34."
he said.
A young man opened the telegram with a quick mo-
tion of his fingers, and read out loud :
" Miss Grace will meet you at Milford station. Don't
worry; she is all right.
"JOHN DOOLEY, Brakeman, Train 23."
"That's on the other road," said the conductor. " She's
safe. I thank the Lord!"
"She's safe," whispered the old lady. Then Mrs. Ed-
son seemed to awake and understand, and fainted.
Of course all this that brought Mr. Dooley into the
story requires some explanation, which can best be made
by telling what some people saw and what some people
did, or, in fact, exactly what happened.
Two night watchmen standing- on a station platform
on this eventful night were talking quietly together when
train "No. 34" came crashing by. When it had gone,
one of them grasped the other by the arm.
" Did you see it?" he said, hoarsely.
The other did not answer for a moment; his eyes were
following the fast receding lights.
"Yes," he said at last, "I seed it plain. I wonder
what's its meanhi'?" His face was full of horror.
What they had seen was this: A little \\hiic figure in
the moonlight, standing on the swaying platform between
the last two cars; one of its arms was outstretched as if
pointing, and the other was grasping something close to
its breast. It was only a glimpse they had, but it was
NOVEMBER 27, 1894.
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
63
before them now as strongly as if it had been photo-
graphed, and they could look at it again.
" I never seed one before, Bill,'' said the second speaker.
"Nor I nuther," responded the other; " don't let's say
anything about it."
But that evening Bill had said something- about having
seen a ghost, at which Mrs. Bill had sniffed suspiciously.
Just beyond the station where the two watchmen
stood was Langford Junction, and here the train made
what is known as a" flying switch " — that is, the last car
of the train, which was a day or passenger coach, was
detached from the rest while the train was in motion, and
creeping along the track in the wake of the express, was
switched off to the branch road which ran parallel to
the main line for many miles, separated from it by a
line of hills, and a distance not over ten or twelve miles.
Brakemau John Dooley, who let loose the coupling be-
tween the cars and managed the end brake on the front
platform, turned to go back into the car after it had
safely run some distance on the branch road — in a few
minutes more it would be coupled to the other train that
was waiting to take it. As Mr. Dooley looked down
the aisle lie saw there were only one or two occupants,
huddled up in the uncomfortable seats, and fast asleep.
But what was that; Just to his right, on one of the
worn red cushions, lay a little figure, with one bare little
foot thrust, out from beneath the soft white night-gown.
Close to its breast it hugged a doll that was arrayed, also
for a night's repose. To say that Mr. Dooley was aston-
ished would not express it. How did she get there?
Where did she come from? He leaned over and touched
the little shape gently on the shoulder.
" Hello, young one!" he said. " What are you doing
here?"
Gracie looked up. For a minute she was frightened,
and her little mouth quivered as she looked at the strange
surroundings.
"I don't know," she said, her face trembling. ''I
doss I belongs in the other car, with mamma and Lola."
"Well, how did you get here, then?" inquired the
brakeman, kindly. " And what's your mamma's name?
And where are you going?"
" We're going to grandpa's atMilford," was the reply.
"We're going to spend Thanksgiving, and my mamma's
and papa's name is Kelson. I went to bed last night in
a funny little place jess like a bureau drawer, and I
don't know " — here the little mouth began to quiver —
"how I came here or where I is at all. I want mam-
ma." Then the floodgates were broken, and the poor
little girl could not keep back the choking sol is.
The big' brakeman was touched, and sat down beside
her in the seat. He put one arm about her shoulders,
and his great big voice sounded just as softly as a wo-
man's. "Never mind, little one," he said; "we'll get
you home all right." And again lie asked her name.
"Edsoii?" he said to himself; "and you're going to
Milford? You must be some relation to old Mr. Kdson on
the hill, aren't you, little one?" he asked at last, aloud.
"Yes — grandpa," sobbed the voice. "But I wants
mamma."
Then it crossed the brakemau's mind how the poor
mother would worry when she awoke and found the little
one was gone. He took off his thick coat and threw it
about Grade's trembling little shoulders, and darted out
at the station, where they were making up the train.
"I can catch her at Colburn," he said to himself.
" That's the next station before Milford, and they will
get there just about daybreak, I reckon."
With that he ran in, explained the situation in a few
words to the operator behind the ticking instruments, and
the result was the reassuring telegram that told Mrs.
Kdson her darling was safe; but where or how it did not
say.
Back to the car came John Dooley, and with him came
two or three other kind men, with mufflers around their
throats and brass buttons down their blue coats. Gracie
had gotten over being frightened by this time, and she
answered all the questions from the crowd about her
quite composedly.
" I dess I walked in my sleep here," she said.
The men looked at one another in astonishment; the
idea of this frail little thing- crossing that platform with
the wind blowing half a gale, and opening the heavy door
of the last car, as she must have done, they could not un-
derstand.
" Kver done it before, little miss?" one inquired.
"Once I waked up down the road almost at old Uncle
Peter's," she said; " the dogs they woke me up, but I's
not afraid of dogs."
" Well, I swum !" said one of the men. " I reckon she's
not afraid of anything."
"I'll tell you what I can do," said John Dooley, ad-
dressing the group. " We get to West Milford before
the other train gets to Milford Centre, and I can hire a
team and drive her over to old Flint's in time to catch
them at the station. The old woman will tog her up, 1
reckon. Ye ain't afraid to come with me, miss?" he said,
turning to Gracie again, and addressing her as if she
were a grown young lady. " I'll take you to your
grandpa's."
" I want mamma," said the wee voice again.
"You'll see her, too," said the brakeman.
Then, for the first time, Gracie seemed to be conscious
of her bare little feet that were sticking out into the aisle,
and that her doll and herself were not dressed for travel-
ling in day coaches. She crouched under the thick over-
coat, and hid the doll under the wide sleeve. One of the
men brougnt her some candy, and in a few moments she
forgot that it was strange, and even laughed when one
of the men said something about, lending her his rubber
boots. She even went to sleep again, and awakened in
the arms of Mr. Dooley, as he carried her up to the front
door of a little house, where a kind, red-cheeked woman
received her, and kissed her over and over again, while she
tearfully listened to John's story of how she must have
crossed that dreadful platform.
In a fe'- minutes she was "togged up," and woiidrous-
ly indeed, and was speeding across the hard frozen road
behind two fast horses, with John clucking at them every
now and then, and tucking her and the doll in the seat
beside him. Very soon they crossed the old gray bridge,
just as the sun showed himself above the hills, and the
gray morning- light grew wider and brighter as they drew
up before the old red barns, turned the short corner at
the lane, and arrived at grandpa's.
Great was the astonishment, the exclamations, and
tremendous the joy !
" I reckon the best place for her is down at the station
at the Centre to meet her mother," said the old man. " I
was just harnessing up to go and fetch them; the train
will be along in half an hour."
And thus it happened that as poor Mrs. Kdson, still pale
and trembling, was helped down the steps to the plat-
form, the first thing she saw was little Gracie, "togged
out," as Mr. Dooley expressed it, in two or three flaring
petticoats and several heavy shawls, and wrapped up be-
sides that in a great fur robe, waving a very cold-looking
doll over her head, and shouting just what the whistle
had bee'n blowing all night, and what Mr. Dooley's tele-
gram had proclaimed :
" I's all right, mamma; I's all right!"
So it happened that Thanksgiving day at the Kdson farm
had a double meaning to all of those who sat about the
long table and watched -grandpa deftly carve the fat
brown turkey. Outside it had begun to snow, and as the
children went to bed, through the frosty window they
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
could see down the white valley and hear the river water
thundering over the darn.
"There'll he coasting to-morrow," said Harry, "and
grandpa's got a sled for me."
And little Gracie said that night, as her mother held her
close in her arms: "I dess I won't walk in my sleep any
more, mamma, dolly and I. We's tired of waking up and
not knowing' where we is." And Mrs. Edsoii kissed her
and pressed her closer, and breathed another prayer.
And. strange to say, Gracie has never walked from that
day to this, unless she knew exactly where she was go-
ing, and was very wide-awake indeed.
FLORENCE B. HALLOWELL.
JOE was in the loft of the old barn hunting for eggs in
the hay, when he heard stumbling steps coming up
the steep stairway, and then smothered sobs.
"That you, Teddy?" he called out, and came leaping
over the hay, an egg in each hand. He knew it could he
no one else, for Teddy was the only one about the place
who ever shed tears. " What on earth's the matter?" he
asked.
Teddy had seated himself at the head of the stairway,
and was rubbing his eyes with botli chubby brown fists,
while down his little freckled face the tears rolled fast,
splashing on the front of his striped shirt waist.
BUT ZEBEDEE ACTUALLY SEEMED TO LIKE IT.
"It's — it's — about — Zebedee. Aunt — Aunt — Aunt Si-
lence has — sold him !'' he sobbed.
" Sold Zebedee !" cried Joe. " Sold your turkey ! Oh,
Teddy, how could she? Stop crying, and tell me about
it;'' and he sat down beside his little brother, his face
showing his deep concern.
Teddy made a desperate effort and conquered the worst
of the sobs; but his blue eyes were drowned in tears as
he raised them to Joe's face. "The man's out there
now," he said. "It's Mr. Hampson, the marketman,
you know; and Aunt Silence promised him twenty-four
turkeys, and she couldn't make up the twenty-four unless
she took Zebedee, for he didn't want the sick one or the
one that's lame. So she said just to take Zebedee along,
and — and he's got him now — tied by the legs — in his
wagon."
Joe started up. "Come along," he said. "I'll just
speak to Aunt Silence about it. She oughtn't to have
taken Zebedee; he was yours."
" I raised him all by myself," wailed Teddy, as he fol-
lowed Joe down stairs and out of the barn.
Miss Silence Withers was standing on the back porch,
with an old woollen shawl over her head and shoulders,
and near her was a stout, good-natured-looking man, who
had just handed her some money, which she was pushing'
into a little leather bag. He was turning away with a
" Good-afternoon to you, ma'am," when Joe came hurry-
ing up, closely followed by Teddy.
"Aunt Silence, Teddy says you've sold Zebedee," cried
Joe, excitedly.
" Yes, I have," answered Miss Silence. " I needed him
to make up the two dozen I'd promised Mr. Hampson."
"But Zebedee was Teddy's, Aunt Silence. You gave
him to Teddy when he was hatched, and
you said it wasn't worth while letting a
hen run round with only one turkey. Ted-
dy raised him, and —
" Oh, I know all that." interrupted Miss
Silence. "But one turkey's as good as
another for a pet. Teddy can have the
sick one."
"I don't want the sick one," wailed
Teddy, beginning to cry again.
"Well, you can have the lame one,
then."
" I don't want the lame one."
"Well, then, do without any. Now,
Joe, I won't have no more words. It's all
foolishness makin' a pet of a turkey, any-
how. Teddy, you go in the house and sit
on that bench by the clock until you can
behave yourself. Good-by, Mr. Hump-
son. I hope to have a bigger lot for you
next Thaiiksgivin'. My turkeys didn't do
well this year, somehow."
Mr. Hampson nodded, and walked slow-
ly around the house to the front gate,
where his wagon and team stood. It was
a covered market-wagon, and in the back
part lay the two dozen turkeys he had just
bought from Miss Silence. He didn't al-
together like the idea of carrying away
the little boy's pet turkey, but reflected
that he couldn't very well have interfered
in the matter without giving offence to
Miss Silence, and that she ought to know
what was best. She had said it didn't do
to give in to every whim a child might
take, and he supposed she was right.
So he climbed up on the seat of the wag-
on, whipped up his horses, and went off,
doubtful if he would be able to reach his
home before dark.
NOVEMBER 27, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
65
Joe stood by a corner of the bouse and watched the
wagon until it disappeared around a bend in the road.
His heart was hot within him. In his opinion his aunt
had been guilty of almost a crime in selling1 Zebedee.
The big bronze-green turkey had been Teddy's only pet.
It would come at his call, follow him around the yard,
and allow him to stroke it. Teddy had never had any
idea that his aunt would lay claim to it. No wonder the
blow had fallen heavily.
The more Joe thought of it the angrier he grew, and
the more deeply was he impressed with his aunt's in-
justice. And to add to the intensity of his feeling, he
could hear little Teddy still sobbing.
"I'm going to have that turkey back at any cost," Joe
muttered; and without giving himself time for further
reflection, he sprang over the fence, and started at a run
down the hard rough road.
But Mr. Hampson's horses were good ones, and had a
long start; so, though Joe ran until he was out of breath,
he did not come in sight of the wagon. This did not de-
ter him, however. He was determined to keep on, even
if he had to go the whole four miles to Mr. Hampson's
farm .
But just as the short November day was at its close,
and the darkness
made it impossi-
ble to distinguish
small objects, Joe
came up to the
wagon, standing
in the road before
the blacksmith's
shop. Only one
horse was attached
to the pole. The
other, no doubt,
was in the shop,
having a shoe
put on, and Mr.
Hampson was
watching the op-
eration.
Joe's heart beat
fast. It had been
his intention to
bargain with Mr.
Hampson for the
turkey, to offer
him his jack-knife,
and the old silver watch he had inherited from his
grandfather Withers; but he now concluded that he
had better do his bargaining after the turkey was secured ;
for in case Mr. Hampson refused to consider the offer,
poor Zebedee would be taken to market the first thing on
the morrow, and it would be too late to effect a rescue.
Joe was as honest as the day, and had not the most re-
mote intention of keeping the turkey without giving the
farmer another iu its place or its equivalent. But under
the circumstances he did not think it wrong to make sure
of Zebedee while he had a chance. He sprang up on the
back of the wagon and looked in. There lay the tur-
keys, each one tied separately by its legs.
It didn't take Joe a minute to decide which was Zebe-
dee. It was not likely that even in the dusk he could
make a mistake. Zebedee was darker than any of the
rest; he was of a different breed, and was bronze-green,
instead of gray or black like the others.
Joe seized him, lifted him carefully, sprang down from
the wagon, and the next moment was speeding down the
road toward home, his prize held close to his breast. In
an hour he was at home and had waked Teddy, who had
gone to bed.
"*You needn't cry any more, Teddy," Joe said, in a
IT DIDN'T TAKE JOE A MINUTE TO DECIDE WHICH WAS ZEBEDEE
whisper. " I've got Zebedee. He's down in the old corn-
shed in the south field;" and then, while Teddy clasped
him close, he told what he had done.
" Oh, I'm so glad!" said Teddy, with a long sigh of re-
lief. "But I wish 3Tou hadn't had to take him without
asking, Joe."
"If I'd asked I mightn't have got him," answered Joe.
"and there was no time to fool. Mr. Hampson is sure to
go to market to-morrow by five o'clock, and Zebedee 'd
been sold like a shot. We'll get another turkey from
Luke Poulton — the biggest he's got — and take it over to
Mr. Hampson's to-morrow evening after he gets home
from market. I feel 'most sure Luke '11 take my silver
watch when I tell him all about Aunt Silence's selling
Zebedee."
"I want to go to the corn-shed and see him, Joe," he
said. "And I guess he's awful hungry. I'll carry some
corn in my pockets."
"We'll hare to watch our chance," rejoined Joe.
"Wait until breakfast is over and Aunt Silence is seeing
to the milk."
Miss Silence's ill humor still enveloped her. She had
prepared only fried potatoes and boiled hominy for break
fast, and served them in silence.
"I don't like
hominy," Teddy
said, as his aunt
WMS about to help
him to some.
" Butnevermind;
I don't care if I
don't eat much
today, as to-mor-
row's Thanks-
givin'."
" If you are ex-
pectin' to fill up
on a big Thanks-
givin' dinner to-
morrow, all I can
say is that you
won't do it hcrr."
said Miss Silence.
" I ain't goin' to
have no dinner
more'n common.
I don't believe in
stuffln' boys with
pumpkin pies 'n'
cranberry sauce after they've behaved the way you and
Joe did yesterdy over that despisable turkey."
Teddy's lower lip quivered. "Aren't, you goin' to
have any pie — even apple?" he asked, timidly.
"No, I ain't."
"Nor any doughnuts?"
"No."
" Ain't you goin' to kill the lame turkey;"
"No, I ain't goin' to kill the lame turkey."
" Is everything goin' to be just the same as it is every
day?"
"Just the same. You can set your mouth for pork 'n'
beans 'n' boiled potatoes. There's no use makin' a fuss
over Tlianksgiviu' when a body 'ain't anything to be
thankful about. Perhaps you think I'd oughter be
thankful for bavin' you 'n' Joe to raise?" with a short,
hard laugh.
" Well — if you didn't have us you wouldn't have any-
body, you know," rejoined Teddy, reflectively. " Except
Adam," he added.
As soon as Miss Silence went to the dairy, where she
usually spent an hour every morning, the two boys hur-
ried to the old corn-shed. A soft "gobble, gobble, "as
they drew near made Teddy's face beam. Joe pulled
66
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
away the stick that he had propped against the door the
previous night, and they both looked eagerly in.
One moment of utter silence, then they faced each
other, bewilderment and dismay on one countenance,
bitter disappointment on the other.
Teddy was the first to speak. "That ain't Zebedee,"he
wailed. " Oh, Joe, you took the wrong one!"
"I don't know how I came to make such a mistake,"
said Joe, leaning against the shed, and gazing at the tur-
key as if he could not believe the evidence of his own
eyes. "I was sure it was Zebedee."
"And now he's been taken to market and sold," whim-
pered Teddy. "He'll be stuffed full of chestnuts 'n'
bread, 'n' eaten up to-morrow;" and the ever-ready tears
began to flow.
"It can't be helped," said Joe, in despair. "It's too
late to do anything now, except take this one back to Mr.
Hampson. We haven't any right to this one, you see."
" Well. I don't want it, anyhow," rejoined Teddy. " It
ain't Zebedee. I didn't want any 'cept Zebedee, 'n' now
he's killed."
Joe did not know how to comfort him, and they went
back to the house with heavy hearts.
The hearts of the two boys thumped loudly late that
afternoon as they went in at the front gate and made
their way around to the back of Mr. Hampson's farm-
house. They were very uncertain how Mr. Hampson
would receive the story Joe had to tell.
" Why, if here ain't the very boys we were just talking
about, wife," cried the farmer, in a hearty voice. " Come
in. Why, what are you doing with that big turkey?
Want to make an exchange, I guess."
Joe, terribly embarrassed, stammered out his story,
while Teddy stood by, his anxious eyes fixed 011 Mr.
Hampson's face.
"Please don't put Joe in jail, sir," he pleaded, in a
tremulous voice,as his brother stopped speaking. "Here's
the turkey, you see, an' it ain't hurt a bit."
Mr. Hampson laughed, and his wife crossed the room
and put her arm around Teddy.
" Indeed he sha'n't go to jail," she said, with a kiss on
the child's forehead. " When Mr. Hampson come home
'n' told me about your turkey, I said it was a shame for
him to buy it; and it never went to market at all. Look
here."
She opened a door which communicated with a wood-
shed, and motioned to Teddy to look in. There was Zeb-
edee strutting around in all his green glory, as handsome
and proud as ever. And in another minute Teddy had
him in his arms, hugging him in a manner that any other
turkey would have resented. But Zebedee actually seem-
ed to like it.
" I'll make him a present to you, Teddy," said the farm-
er, as they started home. "And by next Thanksgiving
he will be too tough and old for anybody to want him."
Before they had gone a mile the snow was falling in
such great flakes that they couldn't see a yard before their
faces, and it had turned very cold. Teddy said his fin-
gers were freezing and that his legs ached.
" I don't believe I can go on any further, Joe," he
whimpered. "The snow's gettin' so deep."
"You've got to go on," rejoined Joe, who had no idea
how far they were on their way, and he shifted the tur-
key to his other shoulder and held it with one hand, giv-
ing the other to his little brother.
They struggled along for another half-mile, perhaps,
the snow growing deeper every moment, and Teddy's step
lagging more and more, until Joe had to fairly drag him
along.
"I'm so sleepy and tired, Joe; let's sit down and rest a
little while," begged the child.
Rest! Joe's heart stood still at the suggestion. He
knew what it meant to rest in a snow-storm.
" We'll soon be home now, Teddy,'' he said. " It can't
be much further."
"If you'd only let me sit down and rest," whimpered
Teddy. "You could go on then by yourself, and send
Adam after me."
But Joe still dragged him on. He was almost exhaust-
ed himself, and his breath came in gasps. His steps grew
slower and slower, until at last he paused — "just for a
minute.'' he told himself; but in that minute Teddy sank
down.
"I can't go another step, Joe," he said. "Give me
Zebedee, and you go on."
Joe put the turkey in his little brother's arms, and
Teddy clasped it close. The next moment his head had
fallen on his breast, and he was sound asleep.
"Perhaps I can get on alone and send somebody,"
thought Joe. " It can't be far to Aunt Silence's
now."
He struggled on a few steps further, the snow above
his knees; and then it seemed to him that a light was
dancing just before him, but before he could decide what
it was his strength deserted him suddenly, and he sank
down exhausted. He was conscious of hearing a familiar
voice calling his name, or some one or something pulling
at his coat, and then all was blank.
When Teddy sank down in the road and closed his
eyes in sleep, the probability that they would ever open
again in this world was very slight. But they did
open, and their owner became dimly conscious that he
was lying on the bed in the spare room that opened off
the kitchen, and that his aunt was bending over him.
Then he heard some one — it sounded like Adam's voice —
say: "He's all right now; don't you worry. Just let
him sleep."
And then he didn't know anything more until he was
roused by talking going on in the kitchen.
"Aunt Silence!" he said, and, oh, how weak his voice
sounded!
His aunt came hurrying in, with her sleeves rolled
above her elbows, and a big apron on. There was a patch
of flour on her cheek and dough sticking to her hands.
" So you're awake at last !" she said, and Teddy wondered
what made her voice so gentle, and why she looked so
kind. "You're a lazy one. Joe's been up and about
for ever so long."
" What time is it?" asked Teddy, languidly.
"'Most nine o'clock."
"Is itThanksgivin'day?"
"Yes," answered Aunt Silence, with a little break in
her voice; "and if you want any dinner, you'd better
get up."
"Are you going to have just bacon and beans, as you
said you would?"
"No; better than that."
"Turkey?"
"Yes; Adam killed the lame turkey the first thing
this morning."
"And pies?"
" Yes, pun'kin 'n' apple pies."
" Not cranberry sauce, too?"
"Yes, of course; cranberry sauce and doughnuts be-
sides."
Teddy smiled, and sat up. "I guess you must be
gettin' thankful about something, Aunt Silence," he said.
"Is it" — his memory returning suddenly — "because
you've got Joe'n' me back again?"
" Don't ask so many questions, child, "said Miss Silence,
turning from him that he might not see the tears in her
eyes. "Look there. Who's this marching in to say
good-morning?"
Teddy looked. There in the doorway stood Zebedee,
just ready to utter a " gobble." *
THE CONQUEST OF SANTA GLAUS/
H Gbristmas Entertainment.
BY CAROLINE A. CREEVEY AND MARGARET E. SANGSTER.
CHARACTERS
SANTA CLAUS. EI.VKS OF THE WOODS (four or two).
MRS. SANTA GLAUS. FAIRIKS (t/te Queen and three others).
BERTH A 1 ., . , ., , Miss AURORA BOREALIS (a Timing /aili/).
FRITZ j CHIIISTMAS-TREB SPRITES (four or tu-o).
MAIL-CARRIER. KNIGHTS OF THE SNOW-PLOUGH (four).
REINDEER-BOY. DELEGATION FROM THE SCHOOL (four or
MKSSKNGKR-BOY. lieo).
JACK FROST. DELEGATION FROM THE MISSION SCHOOL
TELEGRAPH-BOY. (four or two).
This little play is designed for use among children in day-schools or
Sunday-schools.
The dress of the different characters may be simply and inexpensively
made from cheese-cloth (price six or seven cents a yard), cambric (seven
(v^/.s- </ '/">v/i. </>(/./ nix! ,w//vr /xifjer, and tinsel. Let the children be well
clothed in flannel under these thin materials, to avoid takinc/ cold.
With the exception of Santa Clans', Mrs. Santa Glaus, the Mail-carrier,
ami Miss Aurora Borealis, the parts may all be taken by children from
eight to twelve or fourteen years of age.
SCENE. — The home of Santa Glaus in the far North. Santa Glaus in smok-
inff-cap, dressing-gown, and slippers, smoking a meerschaum (empty)
pipe, is sealed in an easy-chair beside a table. Behind the table is s'tp-
poseil to be a Jire in a fireplace. On the table is a lamp wt/h shade,
books and papers, and a plate of apples. Mrs. Santa Glaus sits on the
other side of the table knitting. She is a placid, pleasant uvmnn,
plainly dressed, with cap on her head, like a German housewife. S/ie
mid Santa Glaus are quite stout. Santa Glaus reads a paper and
smokes. Tieo children, Fritz (t-ir/ht years old) and Bertha (ten years
old), are seated on the floor, building a house of blocks. They should
he tlrtxsed plainly, in enery-day cos/nine — Bertha with an apron and
Dutch cap of gray flannel. ( I'hf c>t/> is like a small night-cap without
strings.) The two children are in the foreground.
TIME. — Afternoon of the day before Chrislnuis. Being so far North, it
is quite dark outside, and the lamp is lighted.
Bertha. I'm tired playing with blocks ; and all the other play-
things are worn out. You know we get only the broken toys
that papa has left over every year. But they are sometimes
pretty good. What do you hope we shall get this year, Fritz?
Fi'itz. I wants a Noah's ark, and a climbing monkey, and a
twain of cars, and a tin cart, and —
Bertha. Well, you won't get all that; you know you won't.
I think you're a greedy boy. Now all I want is a French doll
that says "papa" and "mamma, "a doll -carriage, a set of furni-
ture for my doll, and jewelry, and a fan, and a parasol, and —
Mrs. Santa C/nnx. If Fritz is a greedy boy, Bertha Liehchen,
what do you call yourself? You won't get any French dolls, for
your papa is very careful of them. He has special orders for
these nice toys, and he puts them in a separate bag, so as not to
get them broken. You have only the left-over things.
Santa Glaus (turning towards tlie children, and speaking gntjfly).
You gels nodings at all dis year. I don't go no more. Dey will
have deir Christmas mitout me dis times, and you, mein Kinder,
you don't get uodings, no damaged Noah's arks, nor no talking
dollies.
Bertha and Fritz. Ob, papa!
Fritz (begins to cry). I wants my Noah's ark, and a woolly dog,
and a lamb, and a squeaking kitty, and —
Santa, Clans. You sboost stop dis howlings. I said I vas not
goings, and dere's an end of it. Vat I says 1 means.
Bertha (comforting Fritz, and wiping his tears away). 'Sh-li!
Don't cry, dear. We will have fun some other way. Papa gets
angry if we cry. Leave him to mamma. (In a Imcer tune uf
coice.) If she can't manage him, nobody can.
Mrs. Sfmta Clans (to hi r husband, in a soothing tune of voice).
Why are you not going, dear?
Santa, Glaus (testily). Veil, I have rheumatics in my knees, and
I ain't, so strong as 1 used to vas, and dey shoost got to have a
younger man, dot can climb up and down deir chimneys friskier
than me.
Mrs. Santa Via us. True, my love. You are getting rather old.
And your work is not easy.
Santa Clans. Dot is drue. dot is drue. I don' know how many
hundert years I bin in dis bizness. De bizness gets harder all de
time. De big houses has furnace and steam heat, and dey ex-
pect me to hunt after deir chimneys just like I used to do. De
open fireplaces ain't so many no more. And dose folks vat lives
in flats, how shall dey suppose I can find dem, and take my
time hunting up deir chimneys? Und I got so stout de small
chimneys scratch my clothes, and I come home so tired. I don't
get rested all de year round. Den all dose Sunday - schools.
Dey send for me, and vants me to trot out de reindeers, and stay
von while, and shake hands all round. It takes my time too
much. I'm tired. I don't go no more.
Mrs. Santa Clans. Is there any one to take your place? You
are so fond of children, you would hate to disappoint the dear
little things.
Santa Glaus. I don't know about dat. Perhaps I don't love 'em
so much no more. Don't bodder me. De liddle chiltren vill
look for me in vain.
[I'tijt'* ,it hix pipe violently, and reads. A knock at the door is
heard.
Santa Clans. Who is das? Come in.
Enter a Mail-carrier, iritli a bug dragg/iir/ In hi ml hint filed with
letters. Lifting his cap in greeting, t/ie Mail-carrier opens his
bag, and pours a heap uf letters mi the table.
Mail-carrier. Good - evening, sir. It's pretty frosty outside.
( Warms his hamh bi/ the fire.) I suppose you'll be starting soon
on your journey to the South.
Santa ('/mix. No, 1 don't go dis year. I has de rheumatics very
bad. I'm not young like I vas once. No. Dis fire and de com-
pany of my Frau (iraring hishand courteously towards his wife) are
good enough for me.
Mail i-iin-ier. What's that you say, sir? You are not going this
year?
San tn Clans. Dat's vot I says.
Mrs. Santa Clans. He feels quite worn out, poor fellow. I am
sure he is not to be blamed. Let us see what these letters say.
Here, Bertha, come and read some of them. My eyes are a litt'le
dim.
[Bertha rises and goes to the table, breaks open several letters,
n ml 1'iadx.
Bertha. This is from the head of the firm of toy manufactur-
ers, Nuremberg:
"DEAR SANTA CLAUS, — We have had an unusually busy sea-
son, and have finished an immense number of Ihe finest toys. Many
are new and most ingenious in construction. Our mechanical toys
we are sure you will like. The brass band, the hand-organ, and
monkey play real tunes, making the proper motions, when wound
up. Our Bluebeard and Puss-in-boots are said by every one to
be among our finest contrivances. Our trains of cars and steam-
boats are better than we have ever turned out. In short, we have
made extraordinary efforts to meet the demands of this approach-
ing Christmas. We await your orders, sir, which, allow us to re-
mind you, are later than usual.
" We are, dear sir, yours most respectfully,
" TOY-MANUFACTURERS, Nuremberg."
Fritz. Oh, papa! Bring me a hand-organ and monkey !
Santa. Glaus. It makes no difference. I hab served dat firm
many, many years. Dey shoost depends on me. I don't make
deir fortunes no more. I don't go.
Mrs. Santa Clans. Read another letter, dear?
Bertha (reads). " DEAR, SANTA GLADS, — I am a little girl in
an orphan asylum. My father and mother are dead, but I have
a nice home here. I always had a good time on Christmas at
my other home. But here the matron says it has been hard
times, and she can't afford to give us a Christmas. Now, dear
Santa Glaus, can't you come here just as you used to do at my
old home, when my papa and mamma were alive, and brine us
all just one toy? There's a fine chimney on the north side of the
house, and I will hang my stocking there, and get the other little
orphans to hang theirs, too, all somewhere in that room. Good-
by, dear Santa Claus.
" Your little friend STELLA STEBBINS.
P.S. — "Don't forget the address, please."
Santa Clans (musing). I knows dot Shtella Shtebbins. Sober
barcntsisdead? Too bad ! too bad ! Veil, I'm sorry. But I don't
g°-
Bertha. Papa, you may take my French doll to that little girl,
if — if — you will bring me something else.
Santa Claus. Don't talk. My mind is made oop; I don't shange.
I sclays shoost here, py dis fire. It's bretty cold out, hey?
[To the Mail-carrier.
Mail-carrier. It's fine Christmas weather, sir. Crisp and clear.
It is no colder than you have often been out in, I think.
Santa Clans. Veil, I can't stand vat I could once.
Bertha. Papa, here is a letter from Minnesota. It is from a
little girl who signs herself Alice. Do listen:
" DEAR SANTA CLAUS, — I am one of those poor little children
whose homes have been burned by the great forest fires. Our
* This Christmas entertainment is published thus early in the season to give any Sunday-school SupL-rhnendent sufficient time to make the necessary prepa-
rations for having members of his Sunday-school present it on Christmas eve.
68
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
family all escaped — papa and mamma, the boys and me. Papa
says he's glad of that, but he is so discouraged! He says it makes
him crazy to hear about Christmas; lie can only just find bread
for six hungry mouths like mine. Don't you think you could
bring me the bound volumes of YOUNG PEOPLE to read? I
haven't a single book left. And baby Tom would like a wagon,
and Arthur a sled, and Fred a cap (he hasn't any. and mamma
ties a handkerchief on his he.-id). and Bert a game of some kind.
The boys wouldn't think of asking }Tou for anything, but I am a
girl, and girls think of a great many things. Please come this
way first, and go to the prosperous people last. They will let
you just this once. I am your little friend.
ALTCE."
Santa Glaus. What's dot about fire? I didn't hear nodings.
Mail-carrier. Wh_y, didn't you read the papers? It was in Sep-
tember, I believe. A good many people lost their homes, and
some I heir lives.
Santa Claus. Is dot so? Ko, I bin asleep, a long nap. I hab
not seen about dis fire. Too bad!
[A kiitn-k fit tin' iloor. Sound of sle iyh-bells outside.
Enli-r Reindeer-boy — if possible one who am sing. He is dressed
for cold ireather, in overcoat, cap, ear-muffler, and mittens.
I!' i ndeer-boy. Good-day, sir. Fine cold weather! The sleigh
is read}'. The reindeer are at the door, impatient to be off.
[Sings.
RHYME OF THE REINDEER.
Accompaniment of sleigh-bells oiit.sidf to the music. Ail:»['ted from H German air.
Sure and fleet are the rein-deer's feet, O - ver the fro-zen
ground they skim, they skim. Far and near, far and near are the
children dear, Wait-ing for San-ta and call-ing him, call-ing
£fe
y
him.
j San - ta Claus is nev - er cross,
j Christ-mas bells with sil - v'ry swells
I -j»- f* -m- [_J|U_^ fjFJLj*'"?!, , T
*«„ —
Jol-ly, and kind, and full of fun ! Rein-deer,
Jin-gle and
d clash as the rein - deer ny ! Hur - ry,
haste, rein-deer, haste and cross the waste,
scur-ry, hur - ry, scur-ry o'er hills and dells !
Bring the i - dol of ev - 'ry one, ev- 'ry one. J
It is San-ta Claus pass - ing by, pass-ing by. l"
=3= z=?§n:3=;=^
.^iiifii Clittis. You can take dose reindeers out, and put 'cm in
dcir pasture. I got no use for 'em. I don't go dis year.
Reindeer-boy (in great' astonishment). What do you say? You
are not going? And won't there be any Christmas? Great Scott!
Vim don't mean it, sir?
s,nitii C'/rnts. I said I should not go, and vat I says I means.
[Reindeer-boy faces nut/it m'< n'/'t/i hands in his /»;,•/</*, n/ni
gives utterance to a proloni/nl -irJtistlc. "Then my occupa-
tion is gone." Tlinnrs off on rcoat and cap, sits on //n Jl,«>r.
inn! liinlilx Frilz n hnn*< nf lilm-l, ». I.eriha f:i/,:ix uji nnnthi i-
litti'r, iiml in about to read, irln n n /. IKH-/, ix limnl.
Santa Glaus. Gome here in.
Enter a Messenger-boy, puffing and breathing Jiard, </.« if he hud been
running.
Messf iii/i >'-hii>/. Here is a letter for Santa Claus with a special-
deliverv stamp on it. It was brought by a special train from
Paris, and I have run all the way from the station. I feared you
would be gone, Santa Claus. I am in time, I see.
fvuita Clans. Blenty of time, my poy. Help yourself to an
apple.
Reindeer-boy. Here, give me the letter. I'll read it, Bertha.
From the head manufacturer of dolls, Paris. Sealed with the
seal of the French Republic, M. Casimir - Perier, President. I
guess this is a letter of some importance. [Beads.
" PAKIS, December 24, 1894.
"DEAR SANTA CLAUS, — This is to inform you thai our ware-
houses are literally bursting with French dolls. They are of all
sizes, from one inch long to those resembling full-grown children.
Many of them talk a dozen or twenty sentences. One lot recites
part of the 'Lady of the Lake.' Some sing 'My Kitty is gone
up a Tree.' A novelty this year is the Twins, made exactly alike,
and when their hands are joined they do the same things at the
same time. They are named Castor and Pollux, and they recite
in concert ' The boy stood on the burning deck.' Another nov-
elty is a young lady playing the piano. She sils at an instrument
of our own contrivance, and executes ' The Blue Danube 'with
perfection.
"We are quite impatiently awaiting your orders, and hope you
will give our wares the preference over all other competitors.
" Au revoir.
"FitoM THE HEAD OF THE GREAT WOULD-FAMODS
FIRM OF FRENCH DOLL MANUFACTURERS."
Bertha (clasping her hands ecstatically). Oh, papa! oh, dear
papa! How beautiful!
(She comes coannr/ly to Santa Claus, as if she would put her
arms around his neck.
Santa Clans (pushing her off.) N"o. you don't. You can't come
none of dcse games over me. Dose wonderful French dolls will
get left dis time. My rheumatics is too bad. I don't go no more.
[Mrs. Santa Claus /«r£»/is Messenger-boy t" l« r «'</<. irhixji, i-s
in his ear, and ht l«irm tin i-<«»n. Ax //•• f/mx out, enter Sack
Frost. He dannx uiiiljitiiijix iirminil. pulls Fritz's hair, and
still dancing, speaks.
JACK FROST'S ADDRESS.
Hurrah! for the time when the nights are long,
And the ice grows firm on the brook and river;
When the air is cold, and the frozen mould
Is enough to make you shake and shiver.
NOVEMBER 27, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
Then, Santa Glaus, is your lime and mine;
II". come to the front when the north wind blows;
\Ve string our jewels on holly and pine,
And paint the cheek of the child with rose.
Hurrah for our partnership, Claus and Frost!
You are the saint, and I but Jack!
But which of us two enjoys it most —
I with my icicles? you with your pack?
When do you start, my good old friend?
And what are your plans? But pardon me;
I am ready and willing my help to leud.
For now on the march you should surely be.
Santa Claus. Veil done, Jacky. I like to hear you speak your
leetle piece. But no matter. I don' go dis year.
[Jack Frost slops dancing and looks at Santa Claus with great
surprise. Peers into his face.
,/ni-k Frost. May I be allowed to express my feelings in the
German vernacular? Donner und blitzen!
[He-enter Messenger-boy with a bottle.
Messenger -boy. I have been to the Board of Health, Santa
Claus, and they send you a bottle of St. Isaac's oil, said to be an
infallible cure for rheumatism. Now, sir, if Jack rubs one knee
aud I the other, perhaps we can limber you up in time.
[Messenger-boy and Jack Frost kneel before Santa Claus nml
prepare to rub his legs. In great alarm Santa Glaus pushes
biifk his chnir.
Santa Glaus. Dunks, danks, tear poys. You are von very
§oot leetle poys. But I vil rub myself by-aud-by. Gif me dot
t. Isaac's oil. 1 dauks you ten t'ousaud times.
[Takes bottle and sets it upon table.
Enter Elves of the Woods— four or two little boys dressed in green
cambric and (where possible to obtain) sprigs of holly. Bowing to
Mr. ami Mrs. Santa Glaus and the audience, they repeat in concert :
From deep green woods we come,
From elm and pine aud fir;
We tell you, dearest Santa Glaus,
The forests are astir.
The sleeping sap has thrilled,
And baby leaves unborn
Are dreaming of the spring,
For dawns the Christmas morn.
We elves and fays are sent
To give you greeting fair,
And, dear old Santa Claus,
We bow before your chair.
If we can help along,
Command us as you may;
The hardest work we do for you
Will seem the lightest play.
Sanla Glaus. Agoot leetle biece. and you have spoke it egsceed-
ingly veil, mine Elves. But I haf decided to sday at home dis
year. I don't go no more mil dose reindeers.
Elves of the Wood. That is very singular. What is the reason?
Mrs. Santa Glaus. He is getting old, dear Elves, and does not
feel able to run up and down chimneys as he used to. It is too
bad. isn't it? But perhaps you cannot blame him.
[Jack Frost cuts uji antics nil the time. He throws up an
apple like a bull, and catchix it. He tosses an apple to each
of the Elves. Then he jiine/ies tin ir mis, .v and sings.
JACK FROST'S SONG.
He's so ti - red, poor old fel - low ! Yet his look is
^Sta ^Ei--E
\ i. In his eye I see a twin-kle,
rath - er mel-low. - 2. Lit - tie folk in farm and by-way,
' 3. All the lit - tie mo-ments fly - ing,
On his brow a. fun - ny wrin-kle. With rr.y ca-pers droll and
Swarm and crowd on street and highway, Clamor, shout and dance a
All the hap - py chil-dren cry-ing, Come, dear Saint, let no one
-" 1- _L— — .
-*=S— g=rf=-^5^ =£=^E*Et '
an - tic, May-be I can drive him fran-tic. J
measure, Full of ea-ger-ness and pleas-ure. - He's so ti - red,
flout you, For we can-not do with-out you.
=^rc=
^ 1 -, •
poor old fel - low, Yet his look is rath - er mel-low.
L
1* **r •& * -*• - * -rVl
A knock, Kni, r Miss Aurora Borealis, a young lady showily
dressed in red aud yellow cheese-cloth, skirt of red, full waist,
and large sleeves of yellow. Her hair should hang loose, nml
she should wear a tinsel crown. She ulnmlil l>, \/,//, /// «//</
serious in !n i- ili'/ni'iinor. Jack Frost slyly lifts locks of her
I,, iii\ iiinl i.niniinix In r dress. He stands off and inlmirix
her. Mrs. Santa Glaus, rising, s/uikes hands.
Mrs. Santa Clans. Husband, here is the young lady, Miss
Aurora Borealis.
Santa Claus. Good-day, mein tear Fraulein. It is a most un-
egsper-ted bleasure to see you on dis oggasion. You are welcome.
Haf an ab—
Bertha. Oh, hush, papa! She doesn't eat apples.
Hiss Aurora Borealis (reei/isi.
When nights are cold and skies are dear,
All in the sunset of the year,
I watch the stars that wheel and sway
Along the sparkling Milky Way.
Then wilh my wand of arrowy light
I rlit along each heavenly height.
The traveller far out at sea
Is joyful at the sight of me.
And people, lifting up their eyes,
Behold my glories in the skies,
And walk wilh step elate and brave,
And sing a merry, rolling stave.
For when the nights are cold and clear,
It is the sunset of the year.
Then Santa Glaus, with joy and mirth,
Brings dear good-will to house and hearth.
./.<<•/. Frost. I say, Santa Claus, you wouldn't catch me staying
in the house with this superb creature lighting up the skies for
you. She paints beautifully. She and 1 have had many a lark
together, haven't we, miss ?
Santa Clans. Dot's so, Jacky; but dere's no blace like home,
my poy. De case, miss, is shoo^t dis. I am a gread sufferer mit
mein rheumatics, and I tought I vouldn't go dis year.
i-r Queen of the Fairies, irit/i thn-c Fairies in //, /• train. The
are little girls rf/v*.W /// irhili . irith gold ami silver stars sewed
on their skirts. On* '<"'.</< «tnr adurnx tin (Queen's forclitii"
she Imldx it sinnll gnlil, n xe< pti-e tipi'i'i.l irit/t n xtur.
70
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI
THE FAIRIES' SONG.
.. Tra - la - la, tra - la - la, who so gay As the fai - ry
2. Tra - la - la, tra - la - la, San - ta Claus We have
3. Tra - la - la, tra - la - la, Christ-mas cheer Can-not
train at the close of day?
come from the pa-tient moss,
•wait for a whole round year,
Mer
We
Tra
- ri - ly, cheer - i - ly,
from the flow - ers that
- la - la, tra - la la,
— 1,,-t — ^—S-E, -- *-
now they come, To San - ta Claus in his north - ern home.
•wait to blow, Please won't you to the chil-drengo?
fai - ries coax, San - ta Claus for the lit - tie folks.
J2 — j — ES-Ej — i-tf -T ?_|^I^=s_EJ_ — _£_tg__
Ei^i^i£si^pI^EEl|IlI
With dance of the light -est and smile of the bright-est, We
End. for ist and zd stanzas. End. for 3d stanza.
fai-ries will help you, Oh, dear San-ta Claus, dear San-ta Claus.
Jack Frost (tritfi mock concern addressing Queen of the Fairies).
He's too tired, your Majesty; he's nnt going this year.
Queen of Fairies. Is that so, Santa Claus? I hope Muster Frost
does not tell me the truth.
Santa, Claus. Veil, yes, ma'am, dot's de (ruth. 1 tonght I
vouldn't go. I have a, comfortable home mil madam, mem Fran,
and I vill leaf de Christmas bizuess to anoder and a. younger
man.
Queen of Fairies. But who will do it. Santa Claus? I do not
believe there's another in the wide world who cau undertake this
job. You see, you have done it so man}' years.
Siinta Claim. Dot's shoost it. I haf done it already so many
years. I don't go no more.
Knock at door. Enter Telegraph-boy. He presents a telegram
to Santa Claus, who passes it to Ids wife.
Mrs. Santa Claus reads: " From the - - (Sunday) school.
[Here let the name of the school or Sunday-school In- hisi-rtid in
which the play is being performed.] Rumor has it that you are
not coming. We hope to see you. Everybody depends on you.
There will be no pleasure if you don't come. Children assem-
bling."
Jack Frost. Going, Santa Claus?
Sii/itu Clftns. No, tear poy.
Miss Aurora Borealis. I don't see how he can resist that appeal.
Tilif/i'afih Messenger. Any answer for the Sunday-school, sir?
.^niita Claus. Shoost answer dot I don't be dere dis year. I've
got rheumatics, and —
Jack Frost. Now if you would only let me apply that infallible
cure.
[Snatches up bottle f nun the table ami attempts to rub Santa
Claus.
Santa Clans. Haf de gootness to be quiet, vill you? Eef I vas
young and smard lige you I could get down deir furnace-pipes
still : but now I'm old and weary.
J<.'/rtx df the Woods (slowly and rery distinct!//):
Now lie's old and weary,
And life is growing dreary ;
There isn't any pleasure, and there won't be any fun.
Some spell is wrought upon him,
Some troll has thought upon him.
Alas! we're very sorry, but dreadful mischiefs done.
Mrs. Sunta Clans (aside, to Telegraph Messenger). Don't send
any answer to that Sunday-school's telegram. I think he will
go. [Exit Telegraph-boy.
Enter Sprites of the Christmas Tree—; -four (or two) little boys,
dressed in red cambric covered here and there with fir branches.
Each boy can have a string of pop. corn around his neck. Let
/•mil bear in his hand a lighted torch. Each one speaks, in turn,
a stanza.
First Sprite.
Second S,
I perch upon the highest bough,
And when the gifts are given,
In each I drop a little thought
Of the Christ Child and Heaven.
And I remind the older ones
Of those who have not many
To send them pretty Christmas gifts,
Poor dears without a penny.
Third Sprite.
I fly around from leaf to leaf,
And twinkle 'mid the tapers,
And o'er the children's faces peep
When they untie their papers.
Fourth Sprite.
I take my stand, in every land,
IJcsidc my dear Kriss Kringle.
You hear my laugh, as sweet by half
As is his gay- bells' jingle.
Santa Clans. Much opliged, mein chiltren. Frau, gif "em an
abble. Has de trade in Christmas drees been heafy dis year?
First of the Christmas-tree Sprites. Very heavy. Last year it
was hard times, and but few trees were cut. This year loads and
loads have been shipped, and every bod}' is expecting you.
[All eat apples.
Ki/tta Clans. Is dot really so? Veil, I don't 50.
Christmas-tree Sprites. What does he say? He doesn't go?
Santa Clans. Dot's vot 1 NIVS.
Enter Knights of the Snow-plough— four boys dressed in white
cheest i-intli. intli strips of white cotton wadding sewed on the bottom
i'f tin1 x/.irts. Each has a small shovel in his hand.
SONG OF THE KNIGHTS OP THE SNOW-PLOUGH.
1. Ho \ ho \ with shov - els and spades we go, And we
2. Ho ! ho ! we go where drifts are deep, And we
3. Ho! ho! we've ley-eled the way for you, Good
4. Ho ! ho ! we've climbed to chim - ney tops, And
NOVEMBER 2T, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
71
care not for the weath-er ; We wan - der high, and we
cut the path be-fore us ! We toiled when you were
Saint with rein-deer mer-ry, We like your eyes like the
cleared the path be-fore us, You've on-ly to fol-low and
•wan - der low, But we brave - ly keep to - geth-er.
fast a - sleep, And the stars were shin - ing o'er us.
clear blue skies, And your cheeks as red as cher-rieb.
•where it stops, We will give the word in cho-rus.
Ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho !
Santa Claim- So you haf de paths all shovelled, baf you? It
does me sorry you haf so mooch vork for nodings. I don't go
dis year.
Knights of the Snow-plough. What does he say? He won't go
this year?
Jack Frost. He is old and weary. Now if he'd let me rub —
Santa Clans (shouts). Poy, you shoost give me dot pottle.
So! I vill put it in mein bucket, and you can't say nodings more
about dot rubbing bizuess.
Enter Telegraph-boy. Hands a telegram to Bertha, who reads.
Bertha. From the same school, father, that sent the first tele-
gram: "No answer received. Hovv soon shall we expect you?
Children assembled. Everything ready. Come."
Santa Clans. I vish dey vouldn't bodder deirselves mit dose
delegrams. I don't go. Shoost answer and say blease to egs-
cuse me dis time. I'm a sick man.
Fritz. Oh, father! you are not really sick,
Santa Clans. Yes, I am sick mit all dese benples coming here,
and dese letters and delegrams. and dis surbrise barty. But you're
all bery velcome. Help yourselves to abbles.
Enter a delegation from the school irhich sent tin /< lit/ruins — two bot/s
and two girls dressed in their •unnul <7/r.«, with hats and coats.
Little, Girl. Dear Santa Claus, our superintendent has sent us
to inquire if you will come to see us immediately. He sent you
two telegrams, but you did not answer, and he is beginning to
get anxious. He says he can't possibly spare you from our
Christmas celebration. Perhaps you will come right along with us.
titnta ('liii/x (slowing signs of iin«ii<iii,xx\. My tear children, I
am sorry you haf such a journey, and for nodings. Don't you
see I am old and vorn out. And I tought you vould gif me a
rest dis time. I vish not to go. In fact, I liaf decided not to go.
Warm yourselves, my tears, and take an abble.
Enter (two or four') members of the mission-school. They are shab-
bily dressed. The girls have shawls over their heads, the boys tip-
pets. Their voices are sad. Their whole demeanor is abject.
They kneel before. Santa Claus, and say, in concert:
We haven't many pleasures; the house is often cold;
We're sometimes very hungry : we're often very sad ;
But. the blessed Lord, who gathers the little lambs in fold,
Has always sent us Christmas day to make us blithe and glad.
' Then we go to great cathedrals, and we hear the organ swell,
And voices sweet as angels' sing the carols pure and clear.
Then we listen to the story that is ever sweet to tell,
How Christ is born in Bethlehem, on Christmas of the year.
And best of all is Santa Claus! We love his very look.
O Santa Claus ! dear Santa Claus ! behold us at your feet !
We do not want you for the toy, the coat, the picture-book ;
Oh no ! oh no! dear Santa Claus. 'Tis you yourself we greet.
So please be very gentle. Please listen to our prayer.
Why, this is Christmas to the poor! just Santa Claus's day.
The children, oh, the children! they are waiting everywhere,
And a million little hands are waved to cheer you on your way.
Siintii Claus (in great excitement). I cannot stand dis no more
no longer. Frau ! fraui get my overcoat. Here you (to Rein-
deer-boy), harness up dose reindeers pretty soon quick. Fritz —
Berta — vere he mein mittens and fur cab? Vill you hurry, mein
goot chiltren? I brings you somedings nice. Come on, you
sbrites and elves and knights, ve vill go and mage von merry
Christmas for de poor chiltren. I don't feel old no more. Liddle
chiltren, your Santa Claus vill come.
Jack Frost. I guess that bottle of St. Isaac's oil in his pocket
has cured his rheumatism.
Santa Clans. Somedings has cured it. I feel smard and able
to climb dose small chimneys. I vill go, shoost as usuai. Ven
dose poor lectle dings from de mission-school comes to me so
bitiful, so bleating, mein is not de heart of stone I haf to go.
Tell your Sunday-school I vill be dereas soon as bossible. I am on
de vay. Berhaps dot Friiulein Borealis vill rite mit me a lectle
vay, so as to lide up de road. Vere are de toys? So! Now, den.
[Everybody helps Santa Claus to get ready. Some put his cape
over his shoulders. Some strap bags of toys on his buck.
Mrs. Santa Claus takes off his dressing -go-wn, puts on his cap,
and keeps cool amid the general I'j'cih'inent. Jack Frost
whirls Miss Aurora Borealis in a dance. The Elves of the
Woods and Fairies cliixp Immls and march up and down.
The Knights of the Snow plough pretend to dig furiously.
Bertha catches up Fritz and kisses him. Everybody must
do something till Santa Claus is ready for his jour/icy. Then
tiny form in a tableau, something like the following :
MESSENGER-BOY. TELEGRAPH- HOY.
Miss AUCORA BORICALIS. Mns SANTA CLAUS.
RKINDKICK-UOY MAIL-OAICKIEB.
ELVP,. tiPEITI'.S.
KNIGHTS. SANTA CLAUS. FAIRIKS.
MISSION-SCHOOL CHILDREN. SONUAY-SOUOOL DELEGATION.
BKRTHA. FRITZ.
\.\lt xini/. mill irnre fnn/iHrri'/iiifx and flags. Sleigh-bells ring
outside.
HURRAH! HURRAH! FOR OLD SANTA CLAUS.
Hur-rah! hur-rah ! for old San - ta Claus, Ban-ners are
> ->
i ' it~i ' >cn •••••"•^•"••B — i r — '
i i r *
crrn~— r"r~— ~~_n(:~ — __
*. ^ I
^ — i • K — i 1 e — i ' h 1
wav - ing, and sleigh- bells ring ; Hur - rah, Hur-rah, for
_ • —r=* n-g
rH-t=r=5=J=t===5=d-B
• =l-." —
old San - ta Claus, Mer - ri - ly, cheer-i - ly shout and sing.
[This refrain to be repeated.)
CURTAIN.
72
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
A THANKSGIVING TURKEY MADE OF A
GOLDEN-ROD STALK.
/""^HILDREN iu these days have a much better time, 1 think,
V_y than they used to when I was a little girl, although there
was plenty of fun going on then, I remember well. Nowadays
even little tots are taught, how to use their fingers and make all
sorts of pretty things in clay, to embroider, to make picture-
frames and lots of other useful things which are splendid to
give for Christmas presents. The kindergarten teachers are all
the time puzzling their brains to find new devices to please and
interest their pupils; and last summer a teacher — such a pretty
young teacher as she was, too ! — thought how nice it would be to
make some fancy little things for Thanksgiving day. You
know everybody likes to have their dinner- table on Thanks-
giving day look pretty and different from everybody else's, aud
that ou that day the children eat their dinner with the big peo-
ple; so it is very nice if the children have some interest in the
table decorations. Aud so this pretty young teacher kept, puz-
zling to think of something the children could make and put on
the Thanksgiving table to surprise the grown-up people.
She was walking iu the fields with two or three of her little
pupils, and they picked some bunches of golden-rod which was
then (late in August) beginning to flower. Golden-rod, yon may
remember, is our national flower, the children voting it so.
Among the bunches of golden-
rod was one that had a queer swell-
ing on the stalk that looked like a
chrysalis. When the teacher exam-
ined it closely she thought, "Why,
how much it looks like the body of
a fat turkey!" And then she
dropped all her golden-rod, and
clapped her hands iu delight, say-
ing. " Oh, I know now what the ehil-
dre.n can make for Thanksgiving!"
You cau see in the picture just
how it looks. The body and neck
arc of the goldeu-rod stalk. The
head is made of an apple-seed, sewed
on with the small end of» the seed
pointing out. Sometimes the stalk
of the golden-rod grows so that it
forms a head, and then there is no
need of the apple-seed at all. The
tail is made of a still' piece of arbor
vila-. and the legs are formed by two
pins stuek through a piece of card.
The heads of the pins must be ou
the outside of the card, and to give
a neat finish to the whole thing
should have a second card pasted
over them. If the card be large
eiiciNgh. I In name <>!' I lie pel sun MI
whose plate it is placed cau be
written on it.
I hope you little people will think
the Thanksgiving turkey as clever
as I do, aud that you will go
straight to work to make some.
They are not hard to do, if yon only
work carefully and keep your hands
clean, so as uot to soil or muss the
work.
BOBBIE'S THANKSGIVING.
BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.
" V\7"11AT MIII I thankful for?" said Bob, as he sat down to
W dine —
"I'm glad I'm me for one thing, and that what I have is mine;
I'm glad my dad's my daddy, and I'm glad that ma is ma,
And that my little brothers are just who and what they are.
" I'm glad I live in this old house where I was born and bred,
I'm glad my hair is curly, aud I don't care if 'tis red;
It serves its purpose just as well as 'twould if it were pink
Or green or yellow, blue or gray, or black as Popsy's ink.
"I'm glad that John's our hired man; that Norah is the
maid;
That Bridget does the cooking, though sometimes she makes
me 'fraid
By telling ine queer stories 'bout that busybody Jake,
Who fell into the batter-bowl and got cooked iu the cake.
"I'm glad that turkey 's turkey, and that pie is simply pie —
I see two lovely mince ones from the corner of my eye —
I'm glad to-day's Thanksgiving, and there's plenty here to eat.
With some to spare for some poor boy who's waiting in the
street.
"In fact, I'm thankful as cau be, more than I'd hope to say
If I kept on a-talking for the balance of the day,
Because things are just as they are, and not a single jot,
No, not the slightest little bit, like what they're really not."
0;
THE TONIES AND THE STORK.
summer, just as the wheat was growing nicely, a stork
began to come into the tonics' field every day hunting for
toads. This annoyed them greatly, as they saw that he was
treading down the wheat. At last it was decided that the vil-
lage constable should go into the field and drive it out. But
they noticed he had very large feet, aud would tread down more
wheat than the stork. Then they advised that they should put
him ou a platform, aud thus carry him through the field. They
put the constable on a platform, which eight men bore through
the field, so that he could drive out the stork. Not a bit of
wheat did he tread down.
A MATTER OP TASTE.
PUNOII. "MlISSY SAKRS, Jolly, WHAT A I-OT OF OH1I.DIIEN !''
.TUHY. " YKS, AM' QIIITl: 1'KKTTY TOO, Kll?"
PUNCH. "KlNl> OF — HUT TllEy'ltK NOT A8PUETTYAS OU11HAHY UltUK. WllY, TUKRE ISN'T ON It OF
's <;ilT A NOSl<: MOI'.lc'N TWO IN<1HK6 LONG."
Jl'DY. "THAT'S so — / JMKN'T SHE WHAT THL- PUUK LITTLE THINGS HATE GOT TO TALK Tiir.orr.n "
HARPER'S
1
>;
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1894, by H»»PKB 4 BEOTMEBS. All Rislits Reserved.
PUBLISHED WKKKLY.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 788.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, DECEMBER 4, 1894.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLAKS A YKAK.
••MEAX AS WERE THE SURROUNDINGS, I ASSURE YOU IT WAS A TRAGIC SCENE."
[SEE "CAPTAIN BIU.T," PACK 74.]
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
CAPTAIN BILLY.
BY LUCY LILLIE.
WHEN the General invited the Fortescue girls and
their friends to spend an evening in the house on
the Square, it \v;is always understood that part of the en-
tertainment was to he a " war story," and on the special
evening I refer to a barrel of apples, sent from the " north-
ern part of the State," gave the subject.
" Oil yes, Molly," said the General to the girl whom the
old nurse now called " the eldest Miss Fortescue," " you
can put the apples out, and they've just made rne remem-
ber I never told you about 'Tobacco Billy,'" and as his
eager auditors settled themselves comfortably about the
fire, the General, with his peculiar quiet smile, began.
" Just hand me down that old photograph in tbe little
black frame; there you are — poor old Tobacco Billy!"
" Old!" exclaimed Tom Fortescue, in surprise, for the
picture was that of a plain-looking, rather gawky lad of
only nineteen — a "boy in blue " — with honesty and fear-
lessness in every line of his homely, gentle face.
" Well, I don't say in years, perhaps," said the General,
" but in wisdom. Anyway, here's his story. Give that
coal a stir, will you. Now, then, here we are:
We were in camp, not very far from Charleston, and
it was a pretty serious business with us. You see, we
hadn't the least idea what the enemy were tip to. My
particular friend, Captain Kard, of the Confederate army,
and I were talking- abovit it not long ago, and he said he
well remembered how. on their side, they were chuckling
over our perplexity. Well, I must tell you that at the ex-
treme end of our camp we had a bridge, and it was regu-
larly patrolled by two of the men I picked out for the pur-
pose, and the "other side" had a place beyond similarly
patrolled. If any message had to be sent over, the sentries
reversed their guns as a signal of truce, and word was
exchanged.
Now although we were pretty badly off for provisions,
and even ammunition, it wasn't a circumstance to the
condition of tbe "Johnnies," as we called the gentle-
men over the way, and, worst of all, the poor chaps
hadn't the comfort of a "smoke" even, which, as all
soldiers will tell you, keeps the gnawing feeling of hun-
ger away for a time at least. No, sir! they hadn't five
pounds of tobacco in their camp. But never mind!
I'll tell you what they did have. They had regularly
every day a copy of their own Charleston paper, which,
of course, was printed for Confederate eyes alone. I was
sitting in my tent one night smoking and thinking and
wondering how I could lay hands on one or two of those
papers. You must know, my dear children, stratagem is
always allowed, and understood to be used on both sides
in war. It is as much a part of the whole unhappy
business as loading guns and firing them, and far better
if it leads to peace and an end of cruel feeling. Now, if
I could only get a copy or two of those papers, do you
see, the key to the enemy's next movements might be in
our hands, and I suddenly struck a bright idea. I sent a
man to replace Billy Forbes on the bridge, and presently
that lad appeared in my doorway. He saluted, and I
motioned him to come, inside. Then, after warning him
of the need of secrecy and caution, I told him my dilemma.
Billy rubbed his head, whistled softly, looked up and
down anxiously, and finally, after a moment's star-gazing,
"Lieutenant," says he, in his slow Connecticut voice,
"I've hit on a way — if you don't mind."
"Go ahead, Billy," I rejoined.
"Well, sir, you see those poor devils have scarcely a
chew or a smoke of 'baccy among them."
" How do you know?"
"Johnny on the other side made signs, sir, and mate
and I weren't slow to understand."
"Well. Goon."
"Now, if I could sneak over a bit from those great
packages in the Quartermaster's department, and make
him know what we were after, sure as guns, Lieutenant,
you'd have the papers."
" Billy," said I, " you are a credit to your regiment, to
say nothing of your Yankee mother. Come here in an
hour, and I'll see you have the tobacco."
Some enterprising dealer in the North had received a
contract for that lot of stuff, and we had really, for the
time being, an overabundance, so that it was by no means
a difficult matter for me to secure two half-pound packets,
done up in blue paper, and in about as short a time as it
takes to tell the story, Billy Forbes had it tucked away,
and went whistling back to his post.
It was a clear, soft, starlight night. I sat up attending
to various duties — listening to the fussy complaints and
talk of one of my colleagues in command, who had it on
the brain, and felt we were disgraced not knowing how
to get in there. Somehow, I relied on my friend Billy to
win the day by his fair "exchange," and he didn't fail
me.
Towards morning I went down to the bridge, having
sent a relief for the lad, who came back simply grinning.
"Easy as could be," he whispered. "Here you are,
sir."
And from the depths of his trousers he produced the
coveted little sheets.
"Billy," said I, "when the war is over you are likely to
be a great man."
And I turned in to read the news.
About 10 o'clock I received an awful message, in an-
swer to which I started post-haste for the guard-house,
meeting my anxious comrade Captain Hubert on the way.
" A nice mess your protege is in, Lieutenant," he ex-
claimed. "I've had to put him under arrest, and he's
doomed, sir, doomed. Will no doubt be shot, and a good
warning to all like him."
As the Captain — in temporary command — marched on,
I stood rooted to the ground. What had happened!
Well, I soon found out. Billy, white to the lips, but
with his head well up, told me the story. His compan-
ion, cherishing some old grudge, had watched him making
the exchange — tobacco for the journals — and had made
haste to report him. Billy well knew the penalty. A
court martial had to be held at once.
Billy, poor lad, for violating the law which forbids ab-
solutely giving aid or comfort to the enemy, must be
shot! That was the law, and you must bear in mind
that the wellbeing of a whole nation, especially in time
of war, depends upon the strict discipline of the army be-
ing maintained. There were important reasons why I
could not at that moment say I had, through Billy, pro-
cured the papers, and relieve him of the extreme penally.
Yet something must be. done, and I must try and think it
out, even though in discharging my duty I must sit in
the council, which would undoubtedly condemn him.
'' Billy," said I. with my hand on the lad's shoulder, and
looking at his white and haggard young face, " I'll do
my best. Unless compelled to, don't mention the papers.
That can't be known just yet."
" God bless you, sir," said Billy, with tears rolling
down his cheeks. " You see, mother'd be proud if I had
to die in battle; but shot down. Lieutenant, for trea-
son-
Well, I can tell you, I couldn't stand it much longer,
and I went dismally enough to the court martial. You
needn't imagine it was in any fine court-room. Digni-
fied and often tragic as were the cases, the court sat in
an old tool-shed : planks on barrels formed the tables, and
for seats we had empty provision boxes turned upside
down. But there was about it the solemnity of such an
occasion — of a death charge, perhaps, and all the grave
DECEMBER 4, Ks94.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
75
formality of the promptest law known. When in the
paltry place the court martial began I knew that my col-
league, Captain Hubert, was in a great state of excitement,
and determined, if possible, to ''put down" such reck-
lessness as had been Billy Forbes's. We had some minor
cases first quickly disposed of, and then my poor fellow
was led up.
Mean as were the surroundings, I assure you it made
a tragic scene. And there the Connecticut lad stood —
thinking of the mother who could never bear to hear of
shame upon her soldier boy, nor care to hear after where
they had made his grave.
The Captain began the formal questioning; and Bill}1,
in a clear, low voice, answered. Asked if he knew what
it meant to converse with the enemy, he said,
"Yes, sir."
" Had he reversed his gun?"
"Yes, sir."
"Had he handed the enemy a package?"
"Yes, sir."
"What did it contain?"
"Tobacco, sir."
Billy whitened again, but he did not lie; and I seemed
to read in the depths of his blue eyes a thought of " mo-
ther." There was a brief pause, and then I knew my
moment had come. From my coat pocket I produced a
packet of the tobacco sent by our Northern contractor.
"Forbes."
"Yes, sir."
" Was the tobacco you gave the enemy like this?" I
spoke, breaking a deathlike stillness.
Billy's lips quivered. His look was like Cassar's " Et
tu, Brute!" But he did not flinch. Honest eye and
proudly uplifted head were there when he answered,
"Yes, sir.''
"Captain Hubert," I observed, turning to my supe-
rior, "there is a cart-load of the stuff still unused, for the
reason that this tobacco was condemned as unfit, owing
to some poisonous substance in the blue paper wrappers.
I need scarcely point out to you," I continued, " that sen-
tence of death could only be passed on Forbes for ' car-
rying aid or comfort to the enemy.' Now, then, Cap-
tain, if you will kindly fill your pipe from this package, I
feel sure you will decide whether Forbes can be con-
demned to death for providing the Johnnies with com-
fort from old Briggs's consignment."
The tension was too great for even a smile, and Cap-
tain Hubert's face flushed scarlet. He put out his hand,
then drew it back. "This being the case," said he, in a
stifled voice and rising to his feet, " we — we — can con-
sider the case dismissed !"
I met Billy a moment or two later, standing like a
statue near my quarters. He looked at me piteously ; but
when I held out my hand, did not at once take it.
" Lieutenant," said he, with the queer smile in his hon-
est eyes I somehow felt he'd learned from his mother, " I
— I — God bless you, sir; but did you send me with poison
to those poor chaps?" His voice shook, but he held up his
head proudly. " Killing them in battle, sir, would be
fair and square —
"Billy," said I, "give me your hand, and you'll get
your shoulder-straps before the week is out! No, my
boy! I picked out papers that hadn't a speck of white
stain on them. No, you're not a murderer, my poor
Billy; and go to your tent and write to your mother,
for we're near a battle harder than what you and I
fought this morning, thanks to the papers from the
enemy."
" Oh, General !" exclaimed Molly, "and what happened
then?"
"Why, my child, Billy went home on a furlough six
months later Captain Forbes, if you please, and at pres-
ent he owns a fine country grocery, from which the ap-
ples you're eating this minute here just come, as they
do every year regularly, and not once but he encloses a
big packet of tobacco marked, Not dangerous, General,
even to the enemy!"
TYPICAL AMERICAN SCHOOLS.
ST. PAUL'S SCHOOL.
BY JAMES BARNES.
IN writing a sketch of the boys' life at St. Paul's School
it is hard at the outset (especially for a Concordian) to
avoid being personal and reminiscent. The name of the
founder, Dr. George B. Shattuck, can never be forgotten.
The school among the New Hampshire hills will be a mon-
ument to his honored memory when the boys who so
often listened for the sound of the "quarter-bell" have
grown old and gray and other generations have suc-
ceeded them. The school was his idea, and he lived to
watch it change and expand, until from two or three
small houses and a score or so of scholars it has become
a park of two hundred or more acres, covered with beau-
tiful buildings, and thronged with a healthy, contented
population of over three hundred boys. There are about
thirty buildings in all, but we give only one, the "new
school"; these top a hill, and look away on a stretch of
country unequalled in its New England beauty.
The school was incorporated in 1855, and one year later
the present rector, the Rev. Dr. Coit, took charge of its
future. In looking at the history of any great success
we find usually the influence of one mind, one per-
sonality. So it has been with St. Paul's. It is this in-
fluence that has brought it to what it is at the present,
and it is of the present that I am going to write (perhaps
a little of the past may creep in here and there).
St. Paul's is about two miles and a half from Con-
cord "on the Merrimac." It is situated at the bottom
of a bowl made by the surrounding hills, and clusters
about a little lake that shoots out miniature bays and
armlets into the woods and meadows. A famous place
it is for red-winged blackbirds and bull-frogs and spiny-
backed sun-fish. On some of the higher land, quite a
distance from the older buildings, are the great dormi-
tories that at night twinkle with myriads of lights until
the quarter-hell tolls nine, half past, and then out the
lights go all at once.
Supposing it is a winter's day (we will take up a spring
day in its turn) — one of those crisp New Hampshire clays
when the sky is clear and blue, and the thermometer
seems to have made a mistake and allowed the mercury
to drop further down than was absolutely truthful. In the
numerous dormitories — the "upper school," the "lower
school," the "new school," and the various masters'
houses in which some of the older students live— at sev-
en-thirty to a minute there is a great stirring out in the
morning. The bell in the old "study" is clanging mu-
sically— and it is a very musical old hell. Somebody,
however, soon drowns this out by walking up and down
before the "alcoves" (each boy has a compartment to
himself a little larger than a steamer stateroom) in the
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
dormitories, and as lie walks he raises a din on a great
clattering gong. He stops for a little while before some
of the curtains and gives a few extra twirls; he knows
the sleepy-heads. In half an hour breakfast. This over,
long lines of boys wend their way towards the chapel,
THE "NEW SCHOOL" DORMITORY.
where the morning prayers are held. On Sunday they
form together two by two, and march in; but on week-
days if a boy can reach his seat before the bell stops ring-
ing he is on time. At nine the study hour begins, and
lasts until it shows quarter of one by the big clock at the
end of the great school-room.
This is the noon hour, and until the bell calls "din-
ner" the fun is furious. Remember it is a winter's day.
Leaning against the walls of the school are innumerable
sleds, most of them long, some six feet and more in
length, and every one the same width, only nine inches.
They call them "Poland sleds," after the man who first
made them, I believe, and they are the fastest coasters in
the world. Painted on their sides are their names — " Jol-
ly Rover," "Black Bess," "Artful Dodger" (the "Slow
Poke" was the fastest sled in school some years ago: I
wonder if she still exists?), and so on — any name for your
choice. The ice on the pond hums with the sound of
skating, and soon the hill from the old lower school is
covered with boys toiling up and shooting down one after
another. The heavy double runners roar over the icy
parts of the hill, and some of the coasters have a habit
of shouting "Road! road!" no matter if they have the
whole coast to themselves. It is a very easy habit to get
into; I think it makes you seem to go
faster; I knew a boy who used to shout
it in his sleep. Of course they have to-
bogganing, but I don't think a St. Paul's
boy will ever cease to feel proud of his
graceful Poland sled. After dinner,
which arrives in the nick of time, it is
play hour again until half past four, when
the "quarter-bell" (so called because it
gives you fifteen minutes' warning) starts
all the boys towards the study - rooms.
Oh ! the delightful winter afternoons, the
long tramps over to " Turkey Pond." and
down the half-frozen stream; the fun of
tending traps, and peering over the bank
to see if you've caught a uiuskrat or a
mink; the hockey and the races on the
pond; and the crowd gathered about the
young master who skates so well, and
do>'S figures out of the geometry on the
ice; the long afternoons in tin- gymna-
sium when the snow is falling outside
and loading down the pine -trees, and
the boys are tumbling about on the mattresses, crowd-
ing the ladders and the parallel bars, and rumbling
the balls in the bowling-alleys, and the whole place
is so full of merriment and chatter that you won-
der if these are the same boys who keep so quiet dur-
ing study hour. And here an odd thing: a boy at St.
Paul's doesn't have to learn a lot of rules; he finds out
that certain things are done because they always have
been done there, because they are the best, and that other
things are left alone because they are unnecessary and
contrary to the spirit of the place; he finds that custom
and tradition govern mostly, that rules as to conduct are
not given him to learn, nor hung upon the walls before
his eyes. The boys help to hand them down from one to
the other; this makes them stronger than if they were
recited every day. During the winter months the rac-
quet-courts are filled, and the "squash-ball" courts, from
whence the boys graduate to the racquet-courts, are well
patronized. At Christmas and Easter tournaments are
held, and the winners' names are inscribed upon tablets
in the wall.
But, oh, the charm of a late spring day — the time of
the year when the young birds are learning to fly and
the voices of the frogs have changed from a shrill pipe to
a mellow contralto! Then is St. Paul's seen at its best.
There is no more beautiful sight in the world than the
lower grounds — the finest cricket turf in our country.
They play cricket at St. Paul's, and the eleven has carried
the cherry ribbon to the front in many matches with the
best teams in this country and Canada. Of course they
play baseball, but cricket is the school game, and will al-
ways remain so. The whole school is divided into three
cricket clubs — the Isthmian, Delphian, and Old Hundred.
Each club has three elevens and two football teams, be-
sides hockey sets and baseball nines. The school eleven
is composed of the best players in all the clubs. On any
fine spring day the wide stretch of green is dotted with
moving white figures; outside the running-track are nu-
merous tennis-courts, and all in full blast. The bowlers
and batsmen are practising at one end of the turf, and a
cricket match is in progress on the centre wicket.
"I say, thank you, there, please!" shouts a voice, as a
hard-hit ball comes bounding over the grass. That means
that the person shouted at stops his own game, whatever
it may be, and cheerfully tosses back the ball to its own-
er. Yon hear this cry often from all over the field, for
it is big enough for several games, and often a score and
more of balls may be seen flying about; for two-thirds of
the school seek the lower grounds on a fine spring day.
Healthy minds, healthy bodies, and courteous behavior
ON THE LOWER GROUNDS.
THE HALCYON AND SHATTUCK CREWS.
— these are some of the results of the school spirit. A
boy is not given any one of these or taught another;
these benefits seem to grow upon him naturally enough,
as might be expected from his life. The space here is
too short to dwell long on the subject of the sports, but
the enthusiasm is vei'3" catching, and a sight of the lower
grounds on a half-holiday will never be forgotten. On
a field-day the cricket-house is filled with wiry young
runners, who tiptoe about in their spiked shoes until
called to take their place at the starting-point out there
on the well-rolled running-track, and many records are
inscribed on the various cups and challenge trophies that
vie with the figures made in the college games.
The swimming-pool is in the upper pond. The boys,
in charge of a master, bathe in divisions on the warm
spring days. Each boy gets one swim a day. And how
refreshing a plunge off the old spring-board is! When
a boy is having a good time he generally makes a noise,
and the shouts grow louder and louder as one after an-
other plashes into the cool of the water. I have often
noticed that the first one in usually takes the longest time
getting back into his clothes again.
The next thing to be taken up in the out-door life of
the Coucordian is the rowing on Lake Penacook. This
is a long narrow lake, three miles long, with an average
width of half a mile, and is situated two miles from the
school proper. Never was there a stretch of water more
suited for rowing, and St. Paul's, you must know, turns
out some famous oarsmen. One year, if I remember
rightly, three men in the Yale boat and four in the Har-
vard had rowed in the annual races on Lake Penacook.
Again, the whole school is divided into two rowing chilis
— the Halcyon and the Shattuck. Each club has three
crews, the first, second, and third, respectively A place
in the first is the coveted honor. Forty or fifty boys
thus compose the crews and compete in the various races.
The old boys return to school to coach their successors,
and the athletic instructor is himself one of the best
coaches in the country. This accounts for the fast row-
ing time and the number of Concordians in the college
eights. Football in the fall, hare-and -hounds across the
hills, long excursions after minerals and rare New Eng-
land plants and flowers help to take up the clays that go
only too quickly. But space is again too short.
You see that I have said very little about the school
studies or about the management. I have left this to the
last on purpose.
The school is divided into forms — six regular and two
extra forms. The first is next lowest, and the sixth is
the highest. The "shell," for very young boys, is pre-
paratory, and the ''upper sixth" is a post-graduate
course. The rector, Dr. Coit, and his brother, Dr. Joseph
Coit, have been here nearly forty years. They have
built the school, one might almost say ; and many masters
have grown up with it. When they left, they returned to
take their places as instructors where they were boys be-
fore. They play on the teams, belong to the clubs, cheer
for the winners, condole with the losers— belong to the
boys. This is one of the secrets of the "spirit " of which
you hear a Concordian speak. Of course it is often their
unpleasant duty to set some youngster writing " Arma
virumque cano," and much more of the same great poet's
THE NEW CHAPEL.
78
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XTL
verses, on a bright sunny day, when, if he had been more
circumspect, the same youngster would be out on the
pond or down at the grounds crying, "Thank you, that,
ball, please." But every cloud has a silver lining.
The old St. Paul's boy in his journey through the world
feels one thing to be certain. If he meets another from the
old place, they will never lack material for conversation.
The mere phrase "Do you remember?" will start a train
of delightful reminiscences.
JIMMIEBOY'S LETTER TO SANTA CLAUS.
DEAR Santa Claus, if yon could bring
A patent doll to dance and slug,
A five-pound box of caramels,
A set of reins with silver bells;
An elepbant that roars and walks,
A Brownie droll that laughs and talks,
A humming-top that I can spin,
A desk to keep my treasures in ;
A boat or two that I can sail,
A dog to bark and wag his tail,
A pair of little bantam chicks,
A chest of tools, a box of tricks ;
A scarlet suit of soldier togs,
A spear and net for catching frogs,
A bicycle and silver watch,
A pound or two of butterscotch ;
A small toy farm with lots of trees,
A gnu to load with beans and pease,
An organ and a music-box,
A double set of building-blocks —
If you will bring me these, I say,
Before the coining Christmas day,
I sort of think, perhaps, that I'd
Be pretty nearly satisued.
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.1
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
CHAPTER IX.
THE STARS AND STRIPES AT RIO.
T1HE white ship far down the bay seemed to have
stopped her engines. At any rate she barely kept
steerageway, but just to the northward of Fort Lage she
drifted idly. Suddenly Frank saw what looked like a
small ball rising to her fore-truck.
" Going to salute the flag of Brazil?" said Frank to his
companion.
" Si; but the forts must answer, not we."
"Of course not. You won't catch the Captain of the
Charleston paying any deference to Admiral Louis Phil-
llpe Saldanha da (Jama."
The little ball at the Charleston's fore-truck broke out
into the green square and yellow diamond of Brazil. At
the same instant a streak of blue shot out from her star-
board bow and burst into a swirling cloud over the water,
while the sharp incisive report of a Hotchkiss 6-pounder
set the tired echoes jumping about the hills once more.
The port gun speedily followed the starboard, and the
two were fired alternately.
"Twenty-one," said Frank, "and fired as if by clock-
work. That's not an Admiral's salute, Benuos."
"The Charleston does not salute us."
"Ah!" exclaimed Frank; "there goes old Santa Cruz
in reply. Oh, glory ! what a salute ! It sounds as if the
fin-t were lame."
" I think she is," said Bennos, smiling.
"The Brazilian flag is stowed away in the quarter-
* Begun in HARPER'S YOUNQ PEOPLE No. 784.
master's locker by this time," said Frank. " How the
ship is coming on up the bay."
It was such a calm clear morning that there was no
difficulty whatever in detecting the smother of foam un-
der her bows, which told that her speed had increased.
"She's a sweet ship," said Frank, with pride. " I fell
in love with her when I saw her in New York Harbor.
She looks like a fighter."
" Si, si, ainigo mio" said Bennos, warmly; " that's a
good ship."
" But not as good as the Aquidaban, eh?"
" No, not that good."
"No, she hasn't any armor, and her guns are lighter
than ours. But I'll tell you one thing, Roderigo."
"What's that?" inquired Bennos, with interest.
"She'd hit us a heap oftener than we'd hit her."
"You could hit her," said the Brazilian, significantly.
" Yes, I could hit her," said Frank.
"And you would, eh?"
Frank turned a trifle pale under his sunburn as he an-
swered :
" What's the use of talking about that, Roderigo? You
know that there isn't going to be any fighting between
the American ship and any of ours."
"No, the American will not fight. He will let a for-
eigner insult his flag. We Brazilians would rather die!"
Frank made no reply to this, for it would have been
useless. It would have been impossible to persuade Ben-
iios that an American commander might be found who
would take the responsibility of using powder and shot
without waiting for permission from Washington, or that
the national government would support any such officer
if he were found. We Americans are very boastful, but
the foreign powers — even the small Central American
states — have not had much respect for our flag until lately.
"I wonder where she's going to anchor?" said Frank.
"Up the bay, near the other foreign ships. She must
keep out of the line of fire."
" Yes, and a good way out of it, too. If she isn't astern
of us when we open up with our batteries, she's very
likely to get thumped."
"You do not like the way we shoot?"
" We can't shoot at all in this fleet, Roderigo. Why,
my class at the Naval Academy could have given lessons
to your gunners."
Bennos smiled a good-natured smile and turned his
attention to the Charleston. She was now above Cobras
Island, and was still steaming ahead at a six-knot gait.
Frank's heart beat with mingled emotions of pride and
grief as he got his first fair look at the stars and stripes
floating over the taffrail.
"Alas, for my folly!" he muttered. "I ought, to be
afloat with that flag, not with this."
Bennos overheard his words.
" I do not blame you for feeling so," he said, simply.
A few minutes later the Charleston ranged abreast of
the Aquidaban. Frank straightened himself up as he
stood in the top and raised his cap.
" What is that for?" asked his companion.
"I salute the flag of my country, which I ought to be
serving," replied Frank.
"That is right," said Bennos.
"Right!" exclaimed Frank. "Are you serving your
country's flag, or are you a rebel?"
"I fight for the best. I want my country to have an
emperor. A republic is not good here."
"Roderigo, I ask your pardon. I know you are en-
listed in what you believe to be the right cause."
The two young men were agai.i silent for a few min-
utes as they watched the Charleston. Then, for some
unaccountable reason, Frank turned his gaze toward the
entrance to the harbor.
"Look!" he cried, pointing.
DECEMBER 4, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
79
Bennos followed the injunction, and saw a noble bark-
rigged white cruiser coming' in between the forts.
"I know her!" exclaimed Frank. "The Neu-ark /"
" Four thousand ton ; twelve 6-inch guns," said Bennos.
"Uncle Sam means business," said Frank, exultingly.
"Only two," said Bennos, smiling.
At that moment they were hailed from the deck, and
at once descended from the top. An orderly handed
Frank a letter, which he eagerly opened. As he glanced
over it his face became clouded.
"You have bad news?" asked Bennos.
''I hardly know," answered Frank. "My uncle and
cousin are coming to Rio in search of Bob. I am afraid
Uncle Hiram will find this a troublesome port for an
American merchant vessel."
CHAPTER X.
THE "DETROIT" COMES TO ANCHOR.
WE left the Detroit plunging over the swell left by
a southeasterly gale. We meet her again sailing
through an enchanted ocean on a fine tropical winter
morning. She was alone on the unruffled bosom of the
South Atlantic, for as far as the eye could see there was
nothing else in sight save sky, water, and a few birds
wheeling across the burnished waste. The cruiser was
reeling off ten knots an hour with the regularity of clock-
work. Her clean white sides were reflected in grotesque
distortion in the ribbonlike waves that streamed stern-
ward fr»m her cutting prow, where the lucent blue broke
into fountains of silver that leaped almost to her hawse-
holes. She rolled slowly and gently, and as she swayed
the sunlight came and went in gay flashes along the slen-
der chases of the broadside guns, which seemed to peer
out of the ports like living creatures sniffing the strange
airs. A canopy of light brown smoke spread from the
tall yellow stacks far away astern and made shadows on
the sea, out of which an occasional flying-fish sprang
with a silver flash like a shooting star. The sun beat
down upon the decks with a heat that would have been
distressing had it not been for the breeze the vessel's
progress created.
Mr. Burrell was pacing up and down the bridge with
his hands behind his back, his dark blue uniform making
his form stand out in sharp silhouette against the bright
sky. The man at the wheel stood stolidly gazing into the
compass-bowl and occasionally giving the spokes an ap-
parently careless twist, but the broad straight path of foam
astern told that he was holding the ship to her course.
A dozen or more white-garbed figures sprawled in the sun
on the forecastle deck, while under the awning on i.he
quarter-deck several officers sat en joying the breeze. The
marine on duty as orderly before the cabin-door looked
uncomfortable in spite of the summery appearance of his
white helmet and duck trousers. The rescued sailor had
been transferred to a steamer bound for New York.
George Briscomb was walking up and down the starboard
waist; and Harold King- was leaning against the fore-
stay, looking straight ahead, and letting his eyes feast on
the splendid blue of the tropical sea. The whole ship's
company had an air of indolence, as if smitten by the
languor of the southern clime, and a touch of fitting
sentiment was added by the mellow tones of a negro sail-
or's voice singing "'Way Rio." But just as the kiss of
the Prince in The Sleeping Beauty threw the whole
slumbering castle into a clatter of wakeful action, so a
sudden clear and musical cry from aloft swept away the
languor, and strained to alert tension every figure aboard
the ship.
"Land, ho!"
" Where away?" cried Mr. Burrell.
" A point off the starboard bow, sir," came the answer.
Harold straightened up and sent a keen gaze forward.
The sprawling figures on the forecastle deck sprang to
their feet and looked ahead. The man at the wheel for-
got the compass-bowl. The officers on the poop-deck ran
to the rails on either side. George sprang to the plat-
form of one of the Hotchkiss, 6-pounders. Every eye on
the ship was gazing eagerly ahead. The door of the
navigator's room swung open, and Mr. Flower hastened
to the bridge.
" That should be the mountain-tops on Flora. Point in
range with Pai Island," said he. "The Captain laid the
course to pass outside of the island, and I got a Simmer
line earlv this morning bearing for the westerly end
of it."
Commander Brown son now came forward and mount-
ed the bridge. " How far away are the mountains?" he
asked.
"About forty-three miles, according to the time they
were sighted from the masthead, sir," answered Mr.
Flower.
" And how does that agree with our reckoning?"
" Pretty well, sir," answered the navigator. " We are
about five miles nearer to the coast than we thought."
"Hum; but as I laid the course so well out we have
run into no danger. We shall be up with Pai Island in
four hours or a little more. How far is it thence to the
entrance of the harbor?"
"Four miles nor' west by nor'," answered Mr. Flower,
" with nothing less than seven fathoms."
" Mr. Crane will take the bridge when we are abreast
of the island," said the Commander, turning to descend
from the bridge.
"Very good, sir," said Mr. Flower. " Mr. King."
" A}-, ay, sir," answered Harold, starting suddenly from
his position near the foot of the forestay.
"Go to the masthead and tell me what you see."
" Ay, ay, sir," replied the boy, with one foot already
on the sheer-pole. His lithe form sprang up the rattlins,
and in a few seconds he was in the top.
"Hills, sir," he called, "and plenty of them on both
bows, with a narrow opening dead ahead of us. It looks
as if it might be a river's mouth, sir."
" Where do you find the highest point?"
" Just clear of the starboard bow, sir."
"Let me know when it is dead ahead. — Port a little."
The last injunction was to the man at the helm.
" Meet her, sir, meet her," cried Harold. " Now, steady
as you are, sir."
"Very good. Lay down from aloft."
"Ay, ay, sir," was the boy's reply, as he dropped down
the rattlins like a young cat.
"The high peak will be in direct range with the wes-
terly end of Pai Island," said Mr. Flower to Mr. Burrell.
"Keep the ship heading for it till you raise the island,
and then call me."
Mr. Flower went below, and a few minutes later, when
four bells struck and George went to the chart-house to
make his entries in the log, the blue mountain peak was
visible from the bridge.
"The rift in the hills that Harold reported will be the
entrance to Rio Harbor, won't it?" asked George, after
making his report to Mr. Burrell.
"Yes; and we shall be at anchor with the Charleston
and Newark this afternoon."
George went aft thinking a little more seriously than
was his custom. " Frank is in there, I suppose," he re-
flected, " aboai'd the Aquidaban. I wonder how he likes
foreign service?"
At a quarter of two o'clock Pai Island, with its bosky
hills rising 325 feet above the sea, was on the Detroit's
starboard beam. Mr. Crane and Mr. Flower appeared on
the bridge, and the latter stretched the chart of Rio Har-
bor on the chart-board. Harold and George were off
duty, but they remained on deck to enjoy the glorious
•WHAT IS TO BE DONE WITH ME NOW
ASKED THE YOUNG MAN, IMPATIENTLY.
beauties of the entrance to the harbor. As the cruiser
passed up the bay George said, " I don't see anything of
any war-ships."
"Neither do I."
The same thing had just occurred to the group of offi-
cers on the bridge. They were anxiously scanning the
short stretch of water between Villegaignou and Cobras
islands, set down on the chart as the anchorage for men-
of-war, but it was clear.
"They've gone further up the bay to be out of the
range of firing," said Commander Brownsou.
"Here they are!" exclaimed Mr. Burrell.
"And there's the Charleston!" said Mr. Flower.
"With signals flying. Here, Mr. King," called Mr.
Crane, turning and catching sight of Harold, "bring my
signal book as quickly as possible."
Harold sprang to obey the command, and was on the
bridge with the blue -covered book in a few seconds.
Mr. Burrell took a look at the flags on the Charleston
through his glass. In the mean time the quartermaster
on watch had got the answering pennant from the locker,
and had bent it on the signal halyards ready to run up.
"Two-thirty-seven," said Mr. Burrell, lowering the
glass.
"Anchor in column," read Harold from the book.
" Run up your pennant," said Mr. Burrell.
A quarter of an hour later the Detroit lay at anchor.
"Look, Hal! Look!" exclaimed George. "Yonder
lies the rebel fleet."
"And there's the Aquidaban! I wonder if we shall
see Frank?"
"Them as doesn't see folks sometimes hears 'em," re-
marked Cockswain Morris, who was passing.
"Talking of hearing," said George, "I wonder if
1 rank has heard anything of Robert ?"
At that very moment a tall bronzed young man, with
reddish -brown hair and dark eyes, was pacing up and
down a narrow cell in a prison in Rio. A rattling of
bolts warned him that he was about to receive a visit
from his captors. The door swung open, and an officer
entered, while four soldiers halted outside.
" Come," said the officer.
" What is to be done with me now?" asked the young
man. impatiently. "Haven't I told you over and over
again that I'm no spy; that I deserted from the Tanian-
dare as soon as she joined the rebels, and came ashore
to offer myself to the government service?"
"We have other information," said the officer; "and
now we aie told that plans are being made for your es-
cape. You are to be taken to another place of confine-
ment."
The boy said no more, but marched out between the
soldiers. He was blindfolded and handcuffed, placed in
a vehicle, and driven over several miles of rough road.
When he wras left alone in his new prison he peered out
between the bars, and saw that he was somewhere among
the hills back of the city.
" I suppose I shall stay here till the war is over if they
don't take a notion to shoot me," he muttered, as he
buried his face in his hands.
[TO BF. CONTINCKD.]
THE LITTLE RED BOOK.
I'.V ELLEN DOUGLAS DELANO.
CHAPTER I.
"T'M older than you, and so I know better tlian 3-011 !"
1. The speaker was Bertha Weld, aged fourteen. She
was leaning over the gate in front of her own home, oc-
casionally opening it wide and letting it swing to with a
click. Two girls stood outside on the flagged sidewalk
of Deane Street.
" Pooli ! You don't know as much as you think you
do about this, anyhow, for your sister is not getting them
up, and mine is," returned Madge Barnes. "And you're
not so very much older than we are, either." This ques-
tion of age was a sore point. It was provoking that Ber-
tha should always have it ready and waiting to clinch
an argument. "Come along, Nell. Let's go up to our
house and have some fun. Good-morning, Miss Weld."
And Madge walked away across the road, her short
yellow curls bobbing on either side of her delicately fea-
tured face, her arm thrown about Eleanor Rogers with
an air of exclusive devotion.
Bertha looked after them. " Now she's mad," she
thought, as she took one more swing 011 the gate, then
closed it, and went slowly into the house. "Nasty old
theatricals! Madge Barnes is so proud because her sister
thought of the old things, and orders us all round. Oh,
dear, I wish I had something nice to do! Those girls are
perfectly horrid."
In the mean time Madge and her friend had passed
through the gateway opposite Bertha's home, and walked
up the long avenue which led to the Barnes's house on
the hill. There were a great many hills in Durham.
When you were not climbing up one you were pretty
sure to be walking down another. It was fine in winter
for coasting, so the young people of the place thought,
but it was harder work to get about in summer.
At present it was a Saturday in early spring, and there
were ever so many delightful little impromptu brooks
that came tumbling down the hill-sides.
" I wish I had on rubber boots; I'd wade in this brook,"
said Madge, as she paused a moment and looked longingly
into the clear water. "I'll tell you what we might do,
though. We might
take off our shoes and
stockings, and really and
truly wade."
" Why, Madgie
Barnes, what are you
thinking of?" cried Elea-
nor, quite shocked at
the suggestion. " Wade
right here near Deane
Street?"
" Oh, you're so terri-
bly proper!" returned
Madge. "Well, if you
won't wade here, let's go
do it on the billiard ta-
ble."
Both children laughed
at the joke, and hurried
into the house and up
the stairs.
The Barneses lived in
a very large house, and
on the upper floor was
an immense room con-
taining a, billiard table,
a huge old - fashioned
sofa, and a few old pieces
of furniture. In days
gone by, when old Dr.
Barnes, Madge's grandfather, was alive, he had been fond
of the game, and had fitted up this room for the purpose.
But it had fallen into disuse, and was now used partly as
a lumber-room, partly as a play-room for Madge. It was
her chief delight to come here witli Eleanor and "dress
up" in the various odd garments to be found in the chest
of drawers.
All kinds of fantastic games were invented by these
two original and congenial minds, but eacli one included
"wading on the billiard table, "which meant, that they
removed their shoes, a.nd in their "stocking feet" tripped
gayly about on the broad smooth surface.
"Are you going to be mad at Bertha long?" asked
Eleanor, as she pinned a long towel about her head, and
proceeded to twist it into a tight coil. It was the trial of
her life that her hair was somewhat short and hopelessly
straight, so she always supplied the deficiency with tow-
els, except when playing that she was a boy. A fairy
prince was her favorite character, or Laurie in Little Wo-
men. They liked to take one of their best-loved books
and act out the story.
" There!" continued Eleanor, with a fine disregard for
the becoming, " that 's a regular Psyche knot. But tell
me, are you going to be mad long?"
"I don't know," returned Madge, who had "spoken"
to be Laurie to-day, and was artistically painting a black
mustache oil her upper lip with a burnt cork. "Let's
see how things go. Are you going to be Jo or Amy?"
" Amy." returned Eleanor, promptly. "Let's do the
scene in the boat where Amy says; 'How well we pull
together, Laurie,' and he says, 'Let us always pull to-
gether, Amy!' That is just perfect."
"Ouch! This cork is hot !" exclaimed Madge. "Now
I'm all done, so let's begin."
The fun lasted for an hour, and then Madge, looking
out of the window, chanced to see Bertha Weld coming
up the hill.
"Goody Two-shoes! Here comes Bertha!" she cried.
" We're mad at her, and we don't want to see her. What,
shall we do?"
' LOOK AT THIS 1"
82
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"Hide," said Eleanor, promptly, " under the sofa."
And without a moment's delay they were down on their
hands and knees and creeping under the old square chintz-
covered lounge, leaving their shoes and the dresses they
had been wearing in full view in the room.
They heard the maid coining nearer arid nearer. She
was searching for them in every room in the house.
Finally she came up the third-story stairs.
" Miss Madge !" she called, " Miss Bertha Weld is clown-
stairs. She wants to see you awful bad. She said she
had something great to tell you. Where are them chil-
dren?" continued Bridget, looking into the billiard-room.
Not a sound could be heard. The children under the
sofa had their handkerchiefs stuffed into their mouths to
stitle their laughter. It was just as much as they could
do to manage it.
"It looks like their shoes and their dresses," mur-
mured Bridget to herself. "Miss Madge must have
changed her things up here and gone out, but it's awful
funny."
Then she went down and told Bertha that they were
not at home.
When she was safely outof the way Madge and Eleanor
crept from their hiding-place and rolled 011 the floor,
speechless with laughter.
" It is the best joke that ever happened," cried Madge,
as soon as she could speak.
"Let's have it for a secret!"
"Yes. We can call it ' U. S.'— Under the Sofa. It will
be such fun to talk about it before Bertha."
For it was the fashion in Durham for intimate friends
to have secrets together, which they called by initials,
and aggravatingly flaunted in the ears of the unin-
itiated.
"There she goes down the drive now," said Madge,
who had gone to the window.
" Nell, did you hear Bridget say she had something to
tell us? I wonder what it was ?''
"Nothing much, probably," said Eleanor. "Let us go
on with our play."
" Oh, I don't feel like it any more! We've been play-
ing it for ages. I'm tired of being Laurie."
"Then you can be Jo or Amy. I don't mind chan-
ging."
"No; I don't want to play another minute. I do
wonder what that was Bertha had to tell ?"
Eleanor was accustomed to these sudden changes on
the part of her friend, but they always provoked her.
"Oil, you are so curious!" she said. "Who cares
what Bertha Weld has to tell? We are mad at her, so it
doesn't make any difference."
" I'm not a bit curious 1" cried Madge, who detested this
accusation. "I think you were very mean to hide from
Bertha. Mamma and Ruth both say we treat her badly,
and this time it is all your fault."
" Mine !'' exclaimed Eleanor, in astonishment.
" Yes. You said to go under the sofa. I never should
have thought of it. I'm going to get dressed, and go
down to see Bertha this very minute at her house. I'm
not going to be mad at her any longer."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Eleanor, " I don't want to go."
"Very well, Miss Disobliging, you needn't; but if you
don't I'll be mad at you, and I'll tell Bertha we were
under the sofa, and it was your fault."
Madge was hurriedly putting on her shoes as she spoke.
"I suppose I'll have to go," grumbled Eleanor, and
proceeded to do the same, thinking while she did so that
Madge Barnes was the most provoking girl that ever lived.
The truth is that Madge was somewhat spoiled. She
had a sister who was several years older than herself,
and who, with her parents, made a great pet of little
Madge. She was a very fascinating and lovable child,
but she had two great faults. One was an inordinate
curiosity, and the other was a sort of surface fickleness.
In certain things she was very determined: "when she
wanted to have her own way. for instance. In her heart
she loved Eleanor devotedly, but she knew her power
over her, and used it to the full. Nothing delighted her
more than to make Eleanor miserable by pretending to
"be mad" at her, which was the favorite Durham mode
of expressing a temporary cessation of friendship.
Eleanor, on the contrary, was incapable of doing any-
thing of the kind. She was faithful through and through.
Her feelings were easily hurt, but she would not show
it if she could help it. She always had the uneasy con-
sciousness, however, that Madge knew just how much
she was torturing her.
They dressed almost in silence, Madge occasionally
humming a bit of a tune, or breaking into a short laugh,
which she immediately suppressed as if with a great ef-
fort. She was rapidly getting into her most tantalizing
frame of mind. Eleanor knew from experience that her
wisest course was to say nothing, but it was a difficult
matter. She would have much preferred to talk it over.
As they approached Bertha's home Madge suddenly
changed her tactics.
"I think I won't be mad with you any longer, Nell.
It isn't worth while for Bertha to think we've had a fight.
Y'ou're coming in, aren't you?" For Eleanor had shown
some signs of continuing on to her own home.
"Well," said Eleanor, weakening, "perhaps I had
better."
So they passed in together, and Bertha, seeing them
from the window, came running out to meet them.
"Why, girls, I've just been up to your house."
"I know," returned Madge. "Bridget couldn't find
us. But she said you had something to tell us, so we
hurried down to see you."
Bertha looked at her doubtfully. " Where were you?"
she asked.
"Way upstairs."
" Bridget went up stairs."
"Yes, but she couldn't find us. She doesn't know ev-
ery place in the house, does she? Anyhow, we came
right down to see you. What was it you wanted to
tell us?"
"It is a perfectly splendid secret," said Bertha, pleased
to find herself so important. She had no especial friend,
and when she was "dropped" by Madge and Eleanor, she
usually did all she could to make them take her up
again. It was not very dignified, but Bertha did not
mind that.
"You'll just scream with delight," she continued.
"Well, hurry up and tell us," said Madge, impatient
to hear all there was to be learned.
" First promise that you'll never, never tell."
" I promise," said Madge, readily enough.
"On your word of honor?"
" On my word of honor."
" And will you do the same, Eleanor? On your word
of honor?"
"Yes," said Eleanor, "on my word of honor."
This formality over, Bertha, with an air of deep mys-
tery, put her hand into her pocket and drew out a small
book bound in red.
"Look at this!"
"Well, is that all !" exclaimed Madge, in a disappointed,
voice. " Bertha Weld, I thought you had something
splendid to tell us!''
"So I have. I found this this afternoon."
"But what is it?"
"A diary."
"A diary? Whose?"
"Mrs. Brewster's; for her name, M. B. Brewster, is on
the first page. And it is full of the most interesting
things."
DECEMBER 4, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
83
"Why, Bertha Weld, you surely haven't read it?"
cried Eleanor, with flaming cheeks.
"Of course I haven't read the whole thing, but I've
road some, and it's awfully interesting."
"Read my dear Mrs. Brewster's diary — mamma's most
intimate friend! I shall tell her what a mean dishonor-
able thing you've done."
"Indeed you won't do any such thing!" exclaimed
Bertha. "You've promised on your word of honor you
wouldn't tell my secret."
" But I didn't know it was this."
"Of course you didn't, but that makes no difference.
You've got to keep quiet about it. You've promised."
Bertha felt quite safe. She knew that Eleanor never
broke her word.
"Oh, do hush, Nell! There's no harm in our reading
it," interposed Madge, whose curiosity was already on
edge.
"Madge!" cried Eleanor, reproachfully. "Mamma
says it is the most dishonorable thing in the world to
read anything that other people have written unless it is
intended for you to see. And your mother thinks so too.
I know she does."
"Well, maybe Mrs. Brewster meant some one to see
this," laughed Bertha. "She ought not to have 'been so
careless about dropping it unless she did."
"Are you sure it is Mrs. Brewster's ?"
" ' M. B. Brewster,' I tell you. But of course you
would not look at the name or anything else for any-
thing. You are so honorable!"
" Indeed I won't." replied Eleanor. " I'm going home.
And, Madge, you had better come too."
"Well, I like this!" cried Bertha, angrily. "Madge,
are you going with your nurse or your governess or what-
ever Eleanor Rogers is? She seems to order you around
a great deal."
"Of course I'm not," said Madge, bobbing her curls
with decision. "I'm going to stay here audjiear what
is in the diary. I won't read it myself, perhaps, but I
am calling on you, Bertha, and if you choose to read
some of it out loud I can't help it, can I?"
"Madge!" exclaimed Eleanor, almost too angry and
horrified to speak. Then without another word she left
them and went out of the house.
She went home, and, finding a book, tried to read. It
was dull work, and almost impossible. To think of Mrs.
Brewster's diary being read by those two girls was al-
most more than she could bear. Her mother was not at
home. Eleanor had no brothers and sisters, and her
father was dead.
Mrs. Rogers was not at all well off, and being a very
cultivated woman, she added to her small income by
teaching classes in literature and by reading with one or
two people. Consequently she was out a great deal, and
Eleanor would have led a lonely life had it not been for
her intimacy with Madge Barnes. Mrs. Barnes was very
fond of her, and encouraged her to be with Madge as
much as possible; for in addition to the fact that Mrs.
Rogers was an old acquaintance, she felt that Eleanor
had a noble character, and that it was well for Madge to
have such a friend.
Bertha and Madge, left to themselves, looked at each
other. Madge's conscience pricked a wee bit, but she
turned a deaf ear to its reminders.
"Do you want to hear it?" asked Bertha, holding- up
the little red book.
"Of course I do. Hurry up!"
Bertha opened it. She read various little entries that
were of no particular importance or interest — notes of
the weather, calls that the writer had made, books that
she had read.
"I don't think much of it," said Madge at last. " Let
me see it."
She took the little book, and turned over the pages.
Presently she gave a cry of astonishment.
"Bertha, listen to this! Look! look! Doesn't it
mean Mrs. Rogers and Eleanor?"
Together they read the following entrv, under the date
of July 20th :
"Passed the morning with Mrs. R. She told me much
about her life. E. is adopted, but is never to know it.
Came from an orphan asylum. Loves her, however, like
her own child."
"Do you suppose it means Mrs. Rogers and Eleanor,
Bertha? You know Mrs. Brewster is Mrs. Rogers's dear-
est friend, and always has been."
"Of course it does," said Bertha, her eyes fastened
upon the page. " Who else could it be?"
•' What a good thing she went home before we found
it out," said Madge. "We'll never tell her. But, oh,
Bertha, what a secret for us to have!"
[TO BE CO.NTINUED.]
PRIVATE THEATRICALS, AND HOW
TO GET THEM UP.
BY EDWARD FALES COWARD.
II. — HOW TO PREPARE A PLAY AND GIVE IT.
SOME of the readers of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE may
have taken advantage of the paper on Amateur Theat-
ricals recently printed to build themselves theatres. If
so, they now want an attraction with which to amuse
themselves and entertain their friends. "The play's the
thing, "as Hamlet says, and now one of the greatest tasks
that befall the professional as well as the amateur man-
ager presents itself.
What to act is a question that to be answered satis-
factorily requires much thought and the exercise of no
little judgment. As a bit of advice, the amateur man-
ager is cautioned to be modest. It is extremely likely
that the acting material he has to draw upon is not of the
stuff of which stars are made. It is therefore better to
begin with a play that calls for the
display of the simpler emotions.
Then, as experience is gained, it is
possible to try something more am-
bitious. But in the search for some-
thing simple care should be exercised
that trash is not mistaken for sim-
plicity. A play with little point and
dull dialogue would tax the most ex-
perienced corps of actors to make interesting, and the
play publishers have printed hundreds and hundreds of
pieces that have now become utterly unsuited to modern
requirements.
If these words are read by the younger subscribers to
the paper, they cannot do better than confine their at-
tention to the little pieces which have appeared in these
pages from time to time. They require little scenery, are
simple in action, and the characters are quite within the
artistic resources of the youngest aspirant for theatrical
honors. But a play of olden times that requires costumes
is always picturesque, and adds an element to a perform-
ance that often makes up for some deficiency. A young
player. too,.al ways feels that he is doing more actimr when
he arrays himself in some garb out of the ordinary.
There is great fun to be had in trying to effect inexpen-
sive substitutes for the robes of kings and queens, and the
shape dresses, as they are called, of the dukes, courtiers,
and titled personages of melodramatic and romantic plays.
Canton flannel, cheese-cloth, paper muslin, silesia — they
all come nowadays in such varied and artistic colors-
lend themselves admirably to the make-up of etfWiive
rUOMITKKS BOOK.
84
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME xvi
costumes. The useful gilt paper must not be overlooked
either where regal glitter and pomp are needed.
If the amateur actors, after appearing in some of the
pieces already referred to, seek for some higher outlet for
their histrionic gifts, an excellent medium may be found in
some of the principal scenes of Shakespeare's plays. The
quarrel in the tent from Julius Caesar, the scene between
Arthur and Hubert in King John, the balcony scene from
Romeo and Juliet, the wooing scene from Richard III.,
scenes from Othello, Macbeth, etc., which have done
service so many times for school recitations, might also
be acted out. Perhaps a trifle crudely, to be sure; but
there is a keen satisfaction about playing something very
worthy that spurs one on, and often results in achieve-
ments that are really valuable from an artistic point of
view. It is also possible to play selections from some of
the old comedies by Sheridan and Goldsmith, but in such
cases, as well as in the tragic selections, it is wiser to first
get the advice of some older person.
Publishers of plays print nowadays very complete cata-
logues, dividing the pieces up into classes, and detailing
in each case the style of the characters, the number of
men and women required, the scene or scenes necessary,
and the time occupied in playing.
To start with, it is not desirable to have a play that
requires very many characters. The larger your dra-
matic company is the harder it is to get it together for
frequent rehearsals. Plenty of time and hard work must
be expended in the work of preparation if there are any
ACT I.
a. Fireplace, mirroroverit; ornament and clock on mantel piece, bb. Doors.
c. Sofa. d. Small table, with writinir materials and bell on same.
e. Liaht parlor chair. ./'. Table, witli lighted lump, g Entrance, with
porti&res. h Arm-chair, i. Small chair, j Table, books and lamp
on it. k. High-backed chair. I. Window, with curtains.
hopes of a smooth performance. It is therefore most
desirable in making up your company to enlist only those
who are heartily interested in theatricals, and who are
prepared even to make sacrifices if necessary to the com-
mon cause.
After having organized your club, if it is to be an
organization with officers, the first step is to choose a
stage-manager. On him will depend almost entirely the
result, good or bad, of your labors, and therefore the
position should not be filled without careful thought.
With an efficient stage- manager an inferior band of
players may be so drilled that a smooth and effective
performance will be given, but even a galaxy of stars
will not succeed unless directed by a central power. A
stage-manager is to the theatre what a general is to an
army.
Nowadays in the big cities when amateur theatricals
are given a professional is engaged for this office, and
the value of his services is seen in performances that
often compare favorably with those given in a regular
theatre. As the readers of this paper are probably be-
ginners, such outside help is, of course, impossible, and
they must therefore depend upon themselves alone. In
the selection of this important official one or two hints
may be found valuable. Because a man proves himself
to be the most accomplished actor in the organization, it
does not follow that he will prove the most desirable for
the office of stage-manager.
If he is a brilliant player, and combines with it an ex-
cellent and wide knowledge of the stage and its manage-
ment, it is not altogether ad ,'isable to select him to direct
the rehearsals. As a general rule never pick out your
best actor for this position. If he attempts to play a
leading part and direct the stage at the same time he is
certain either to do injustice to himself or to those who
depend upon him. To (ill a leading role or direct a
stage is a sufficient task in itself for any man not a
genius.
It has been frequently found in professional circles
that the best stage -managers are not those who have
achieved any great prominence as actors. The ability
to develop others and bring out the points of a play is a
gift in itself. In selecting your stage-manager, therefore,
choose a man who possesses patience, tact, executive
ability, taste, and coiiservativeness. To successfully ful-
iil his duties he will need all these qualities.
Having picked your man with due caution, it now
becomes necessary to place in him absolute trust and
power. Not being an actor of a prominent 'part, inter-
ested in the glorification of self, he will devote himself
entirely to the common good. It will be his purpose to
get the best out of every one, to adapt the resources of
each player to a common ensemble that will give bal-
ance and finish to the production. He will need patience,
because -there is a vast amount of detail connected with
every performance that will try the good-nature of all
concerned. He will need tact, because it is always diffi-
cult in amateur affairs to make the exponents of minor
roles realize that on their efforts, quite as much as on
those playing leading roles, depends a smooth and effec-
tive result. He must be able to beget confidence — a con-
fidence which will persuade each player that he is look-
ing after and guarding his individual interests. He will
need executive ability, because of the hundred and one
details of a production that will demand his personal
knowledge and attention. He will need taste, that the
feelings of the audience and the intent of the author may
always bepbserved; and lie will need to be conservative,
because in matters of art— and such an element always
enters into even the humblest dramatic effort — it is never
desirable to strive for bizarre effects.
Placing therefore in his hands absolute power, his du-
ties may be thus defined: The play having been selected,
he must first make his prompt-book. This is necessary
even when printed stage directions are given, because it
is not always possible to follow them. Your scenery, in
the matter and arrangements of doors and windows, may
not be in keeping with those called for in the printed
book, in which case it will be necessary for him to work
out his own "stage plot," as it is called. If. therefore, it
is a printed book, he should carefully take it apart, and
between every two pages insert a leaf of blank paper.
If the play is one of those printed in HARPER'S Youxc
PEOPLE, he should take a copy-book, or some blank-book
of convenient size, and cutting the play from the paper
in sections of an equal length, should paste them in regu-
lar order on every other page of the book, so that every
section of printed matter will have a blank page to the
left of it.
Before writing down on the white pages the stage di-
rections referring to the printed text opposite, the stage-
manager should first work out his crosses, movements,
bits of business, and exits on other slips of paper, trans-
ferring them only to his prompt book when he finds that
they are practicable and what the story of the play de-
mands.
The work of plotting a play requires great patience
and not a little work. The stage-manager should first
read the play over several times, familiarizing himself
thoroughly with its spirit, purport, and object. Then he
should endeavor to work out a plan of action that will
bring out all these particulars. He should study each
character carefully, so that he can determine its exact
f&yp
TALKING OVEK THE PLAY WITH THE STAGE-MANAGER.
proportionate value to the story, lie should think out
characteristic bits of business that will heighten the effect
of each part, and lie must devise stage groupings of the
characters that will make pictures; for a play is really a
story illustrated by living pictures. The groupings must
be so arranged that the component parts balance each
other. Care must be taken that no actor stands in a line
and so hides another; neither should there be a majority of
players on any one side of the stage. They should be so
grouped that an artistic equilibrium is always established.
Then each page of text must be considered so that the
entrances and exits are all consistently arranged. Thus,
if a character goes off through a door on the left-hand
side of the stage, say to enter that part of the house set
apart for the family, it must be seen that on his reappear-
ance he does not come in through a door which is sup-
posed to communicate with the street. All these little
points have to be most carefully considered. Then when
an act or scene has been thought out in this way, the ex-
act method of procedure should be set down on the blank
page opposite the printed page, so that when the stage-
manager comes to drill his forces, he may know just
where each character should be at almost every line of
the play's text.
In arranging these formulae, some stage-managers take
a board or table, lining it out with chalk or books just as
the ground-plan of the stage is. Then with chessmen or
spools, representing the different characters, they move
them about until they get a scheme that is perfectly bal-
anced. Of course when the players begin to actively re-
hearse, expediency may suggest some changes in the
original plan; but a well worked out stage plot will sel-
dom thereafter require change, except in the elaboration
of minor particulars.
The stage-manager having worked out his stage plot,
he should call the company together and submit to them
a schedule of rehearsals. With amateurs, of course, it is
impossible to expect them to suit their plans exactly as
the schedule calls for. Allowing, however, for sickness
and imperative engagements, a series of dates for rehears-
ing should be arranged, at each one of which every player
taking part should be expected to be punctually present.
If the play is more than one act, it is wiser to arrange the
rehearsals so that the first act shall be rehearsed on cer-
tain nights, the second on other nights, and so on. In
this way it will not be necessary to have those only ap-
pearing in subsequent acts hanging about while one of
the earlier ones is being whipped into shape. The sched-
ule of rehearsals once established, it should be impressed
upon every one the necessity of being present whenever
he is needed. Satisfactory results can never be obtained
when a substitute takes a principal's part at rehearsal.
If the play is a costume play, it is very desirable that
there should be a dress rehearsal the night before the
actual performance. It is a very different thing to
handle actual properties from imaginary ones, and there
should be always at least one rehearsal where everybody
is present, and where everything is arranged for in the
matter of doors, tables, and personal accessories, just as
it is at a regular performance.
The stage-manager's assistant is a property-man. The
only qualifications a person needs to fill this office are a
clear head and a general disposition to work. He needs
no particular knowledge of the stage or the art of acting.
His work is mapped out for him. and all he has to d<>
is to see that he religiously follows what is outlined for
him. The stage-manager having studied out and made
his stage plot, he must next make his scene, property, and
gas plots for the guidance of his assistant or assistants.
A scene plot is a paper which the stage-manager pre-
pares for the use of those entrusted with MM ting tin-
scenery and furnishing the stage. It describes in detail
86
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
just how the scenery is to be arranged, where the
doors, windows, and fireplaces are to be located, and
where the furniture and necessary ornaments, etc., are
to be placed. It may also contain particulars as to how
the scene shall be dressed and arranged in minor but
really important details. This includes purely orna-
mental features.
Taking, for example, an interior scene for some play,
the stage-manager would make out his scene plot in some
such fashion as shown in the cut on page 84.
If the play to be acted needs more than one scene, a
separate scene plot must be made for each act. These
plots once turned over to the property-man, it devolves
upon him to see that each item called for is supplied and
put in place on the night of the dress rehearsal and the
actual performance. If the house in which the enter-
tainment is given cannot supply all these particulars, he
must see that they are borrowed or hired elsewhere. But
in providing them the property-man must be held absolute-
ly responsible. If the production is an elaborate one he
may, and probably will, need an assistant, who will, of
course, look to his principal for his orders.
The property plot is also arranged by the stage-man-
ager from his prompt-book. It includes not only the
actual furnishing of the stage demanded by the action
and business of the play, but the individual accessories
needed by the different players. Thus a property plot
would read as follows:
Clock on mantel-piece, R. (R. standing for right, L. for left, C. for
centre; R. C., right of centre; L. C., left of centre; R. U. E., right
upper entrance; L. U. E., ieft upper entrance; R. 1 E., right first en-
trance; L. 1 E., left first entrance; etc.). Writing materials (pen,
ink, and paper) on table, R. Bell on same. Picture of man in uni-
form, time Napoleon I., on wall, R. 1 E. Cushions on sofa, R. C.
Pitcher of water and three glasses on table, L. C. Lump (lighted) on
table, R. of C. entrance. Footstool by chair, L. of table, L. C. Legal
documents for Bilkins, the lawyer. Letter for Miss Qiiotem, Act I.
Letter for Miss Quotem, Act II. Bouquet for Captain llliby, Act III.
Etc., etc.
The personal properties the property man must see are
delivered to each actor before each act. The players
themselves will have quite enough to think about with-
out bothering over details.
The gas plot is also arranged by the stage-manager,
again from his prompt-book, for the use of the man in
charge of the lights, who probably will also have charge
of the curtain.
Such a plot would read as follows:
ACT I.
Font-lights rfatrn as curtain risen; stage dark.
[Cue.] Ethel. How dark it is! I must lisrlitthe lamp.
[Does so. Foot-lights up on the act.
ACT II.
Forest scene. Foot-lights down an nirtniii i-ism. <_; rail mill i/ raised
thruinjliout the scene.
If the play is a melodrama— that is, a play of a highly
dramatic kind, the action of which is heightened by the
accompaniment of incidental music— or a piece in which
music is introduced, it will be necessary for the stage-
manager to arrange a music plot for the guidance of the
leader of the orchestra, or the pianist, as the case may
be. Such a plot would be fixed up as follows:
Ethel. Sir Gilbert approaches.
ACT I.
[Creepy music /<> lux < n't.
~ *
Ethel. Would you hear me sing that old sons;? Then listen.
[Mimic for introduced sonij,itc.
In arranging these various plots, it will be seen that
the stage manager has a great deal of work to do. He
must study out each page of his play's text and note
down the requirements of every word. It is a long and
arduous task, that will tax the patience of any one.
The art of making" up — that is, painting the face to
represent different ages and races — is a profound study
in itself. It cannot be referred to in any detail here.
The articles used are powders of different shades, grease
paints of all shades, rouge, crape hair (for the making of
mustaches and beards), and spirit gum, a specially pre-
pared form of mucilage, which is impervious to perspira-
tion. These articles, of course, must be bought, and only
reputable merchants should be dealt with. For the pro-
tection of the .skin it is, of course, necessary that they
should be made up of only the best materials.
Most private theatricals suffer from want of punctual-
ity. If you would interest your audiences it is neces-
sary to ring your curtain up at the advertised hour, and
have the waits between your acts as brief as possible.
Impress on every one this fact. Allow plenty of lee-
way, and leave nothing to the last minute. Have every-
thing arranged at least twenty minutes before the hour
of beginning, and then the baneful effects of excitement,
which are always sure to produce nervousness, will be
done away with, and the players will be able to give their
entire attention to the work of supplying a smooth per-
formance.
A NOVEL BASKET.
A CHARMING little basket that might well be called
the traveller's basket can be made from heavy colored
linen. If any of you girls are still in doubt as to what
gift you can offer to mamma or to your sister when
Christmas comes, this pretty trifle will help to solve the
problem. It is so simple that any of you can make it,
and it is botli convenient and attractive when finished.
It becomes a dainty little basket with pockets for buttons,
thread, and all a needle-woman's paraphernalia when it
is hung from a hook, and it lies perfectly flat when the
string is let out. Hence it is easy to pack, and takes up
no room in the trunk, for which reason it is a traveller's
friend, and so deserves its second name.
Heavy linen, either blue, old -pink, or sage-green,
makes the best material of all, and you will require just
three-quarters of a yard of the twenty -four or twenty-
seven-inch width, and half a yard of the thirty-six-inch
width to cut all the parts. The basket consists of three
hexagons, as the diagram shows, and its success depends
entirely upon the neatness and exactness with which you
do the work.
Cut the three pieces carefully, and let the largest mea-
sure fifteen inches from A to B; the second, thirteen from
C to D; and the third, eleven from E to F. Then you
will find that each hexagon is one inch smaller all round
than the last.
When they are all cut, scallop the edges of each with
white silk, and work a row of fine tree-stitching; within
the edge. When that is done the basket will be ready to
put together.
To do this, first lay the largest piece upon the table,
and the second in size upon it, so that the points fall mid-
way of the straight edges of the first, as the diagram
shows. When you have adjusted it exactly baste it into
place, then stitch it fast to the larger piece along the dotted
lines, or from the points 1,2, D, 3, 4, and C to the centre.
Then on these two lay the third and smallest piece in the
same way, and again stitch from each of its points to the
centre; but take care to sew through only the upper two.
The under piece must be left free.
When all the pieces are in place, and all have been
stitched, sew a small brass ring to the centre of each of
the six sides of the smallest hexagon, and through them
run either a silk cord or a narrow ribbon. Whichever it
DECEMBER 4, 1894.
HARPEK'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
87
may be let it be a little longer than the combined distance
between the rings, and when you draw it up and hang
it upon a hook, you will find a perfect basket like the one
the drawing shows.
The directions may sound slightly complicated, but if
once you begin you will find the work as simple as can
be. The pockets formed by drawing up the cord are
// ^^,r^w\< > .>
••'• . ^i: ^a/ T*f£-'
'^m& v/
';,. .•/r^'-^-^v/V
THK FINISHED BASKtT AM) DIAGRAM.
deep and quite sufficiently ample; together they will hold
the material for many hours' work. The one drawback
to leaving the string free is that tlie basket must always
hang. If you simply knot either the ribbon or cord after
it is drawn up it can be more easily carried about, and the
basket can be placed upon a table if desired. It is de-
signed to hang, and always looks prettiest in that posi-
tion, but the ability to change so useful an object from
place to place is always a convenience, and for that
reason it is wiser to knot the ribbon or cord.
WHO KNOWS THEM?
fPlHERE were once two little sisters who lived in the same
A house. One little girl had pleasant things happening to
her every day, but the other little girl was always in discomfort
about something.
"Dearies," said mamma, "it is too stormy to-day for you to
go out."
"Oh, then we can use our new tea-set!" cried the first little
girl. " You promised we could the first rainy day. How
nice!"
"Dear me!" exclaimed the second little girl. "That's always
the way. I particularly wanted to go out to-day. Now I cau't.
How provoking!"
It did seem queer, didn't it ?
By-aud-by, after a fit of sulks, the second little girl consented
to play tea-party. They ran to fetch their tea-table.
"But you broke the tea-table last, week," mamma reminded
them. "I sent it to be mended. I'll put this board across two
stools for you. That will make a good big table."
"I don't think that's nice at all, mamma," complained the
second little girl. "It hasn't any leaves. Now, there! When-
ever I want to play tea-party, then, I can't find the right things.
It seems as if it happened on purpose."
" But see, it's a prettier shape," said the first little girl. " It's
a square one. Plenty of room for all the new dishes, and rtfom
for every doll. Isn't that lucky?"
So they played tea-party a while, and presently mamma
called:
"Come, childies, the rain has stopped, and we can go for a
bit of a walk before supper. Get your rubbers and thick
•coats."
"Oh, good!" shouted the first little girl. "Then we can have
fun! We can run through all the puddles, and our thick coats
are our old ones; so it won't matter if they rfo get spat-
tered."
"I think it horrid!" answered the second little girl. "The
thick coats are too hot, and I just hate to wear rubbers. But
then I always have to do the things I hate, and I s'pose I always
shall."
It is a very strange thing, but it does seem so. I wonder if it
•will happen to her the same way all her life?
OUTWITTED BY A BLIND BEGGAR.
TJIHK Japanese are very fond of listening to stories, and par-
JL ticnlarly those which illustrate their own national charac-
teristics, and a good story is enjoyed uvrr and over again quite
as much as when it was new. The favorite, topic for these nar-
ratives is to have one person outwit another, and especially if
the successful person is the one who seems at first to lie marked
out for the victim, and who triumphs in spite of disadvantages.
Among the curious creatures in Japan is the fugii, a \ery
dainty fish when it is in right condition for eating, lint unfor-
tunately the only way of finding this out is like the directions
given for telling mushrooms from toadstools — eat them, and if
there are no unpleasant sensations afterward they are mush-
rooms, but if the person who makes the experiment dies, they
are toadstools. One of these uncertain fish was presented to a
gentleman, who invited a party of friends to dinner; but al-
though the fish was a very tine specimen, no one cared to run
the risk of being poisoned.
Presently the host announced that he had been favored with
an idea, and this was to experiment with the fish on a blind
beggar who was generally to be found at the door, and who
seemed thankful for any gift. Should the experiment prove
fatal to the beggar it would be a cause of rejoicing that he had
saved so many valuable lives, and if lie escaped unharmed from
the ordeal, they could still rejoice over the dainty dish, of which
they might then partake without misgiving.
The idea was highly applauded, and having settled upon two
hours as a sufficiently liberal time for the beggar to die in, if
he was to die from eating that particular fugu, all letnrned to
the feast and partook of various dainties, while keeping an eye
from time to time on the beggar outside. He had received a
generous portion of the delicate h'sh with becoming gratitude,
and as no bad symptoms appeared in the course of the two
hours the guests decided to begin upon the J'ugu. It was pro-
nounced delicious, and they ate very freely of it, drinking also
many cups of sake,, which went to their heads.
Then some of them proposed to go and tell the beggar of the
risk he had run for their benefit as " a good joke" ; but that
rather remarkable man received the announcement very calmly.
He even smiled as he drew forth from his robe the liberal por-
tion of fugu with which he had been favored, telling them that
he recognized it at once by the smell, and knew just why it had
been bestowed on him. Then tranquilly adding that he should
now watch the effect upon them before tasting the fish, he sat
down to enjoy their discomfiture.
It is not stated whether the revellers found to their cost that
the fish was in a poisonous condition ; but it is safe to assume
that in any case they never again partook of fugu.
THE SNOW-FLAKE.
IT was a little snow-flake
With tiny winglets furled,
Its warm Cloud-Mother held it fast
Above the sleeping world.
All night the wild winds blustered
And blew o'er land and sea,
But the little snow-flake cuddled close,
As safe as safe could be.
Then came the cold gray morning,
And the great Cloud-Mother said,
"Now every little snow-flake
Must, proudly lift, its head,
And through the air go sailing,
Till it finds a place to alight,
For I must weave a coverlet
And clothe the world in white.
The little snow-flake fluttered
And gave a wee, wee sigh,
But fifty million other flakes
Came softly floating by.
And the wise Cloud-Mothers sent them
To keep the world's bread warm,
Through many a wintry sunset,
And many a night of storm.
MAUGARET E. SASGSTER.
88
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI
*WuY DON'T YOUR MUPI>F,U i>o VOUE WOOL UP LIKK MINE, I>EN YOU FKKT. COOL."
A QUARREL IN THE STAMP-ALBUM.
" TT"^ (1° y°" <lo?" said the Two-cent Postage-stamp to tbe
I I Sixpenny Stamp from England.
" I don't do. I have done," replied the English stamp, gruffly.
"Can't you see that I am cancelled? That I bear the mark of
having accomplished my work?"
"Excuse me," said the American stamp, meekly. "I meant
ho\v are you, when I said how do you do."
"Then why couldn't you have said so?" retorted the English
stamp. " When you mean to say a thing, why not say it ? Can't
you speak English f"
" Only a little," said the Two-cent Stamp. " You see, I never
went to school, and then you know this picture I have engraved
on my heart — it's George Washington. English things never
bothered him very much, yon know."
"Never heard of him before," said the Sixpenny Stamp.
" Very likely not," observed the Two-cent Stamp. " You very
naturally wouldn't hear his name mentioned often where you
came from. I don't suppose in all England
there's a statue of him, or a public square named
al'trr him."
" No, I don't suppose so either," said the Eng-
lish stamp. "We put up statues only to great
men. I don't believe your George Washington
was much of a man."
" He was more of a man than your Queen Vic-
toria will ever be," retorted the Two- cent
Stamp.
The Twenty-five-ccntime Stamp from France
laughed.
"Zat ees right; don't you let ze Englishman
bulldose you," he said.
"Don't intend to, "said the Two-cent Stamp.
"He's tried it on several times."
"Yes, he has," sneered the Sixpenny Stain]).
"And he'll try it on again every time he sees tit
too."
"I don't know Fittoo," smiled the Two-cent
Stamp. " How often do you see Fittoo. and
what is he? Sounds like a monkey's name."
"And what's more,'' howled the Sixpenny
Stamp, " some day I'll give you a licking."
" Hob !" laughed the American. " You can't
do it."
" Why can't I ?" roared the English stamp, an-
grily. "Sixpence is just six times stronger than two cents —
so it's six to one I can lick yon."
"Well, you can't, anyhow," cried the American, gleefully.
" because I've already been licked, and you can't lick a postage-
stiimp twice."
And then all the other stamps laughed so uproariously that
Bobbie had to shut them np in his album.
THE NEEDLE'S EYE.
No matter how large the needle,
No matter how hard he'll try,
The baby can't put his finger
Into the needle's eye.
So sometimes I envy the needle,
And think that his lot is tine,
For nothing delights my baby so much
As putting his lingers in mine.
NATURAL HISTORY IN THE TROPICS.
NATURALIST. "IIia.Lo! THKKE is AN ENTIRKI.T NICW BPKOIHB or
ANTK.I.OPK, ANI> AS W K HAVIt THEM CORN EBK.n, WE MUST OAPTURK T11EM
AI.IVK, !!•• POBSIK1.K. YOU KPKI.NG UPON TUB SMAI.LKIt ONK, ANP I WILL
BJilZl: THIS OTIIKIt."
CAPTURED ALIVE.
HARPERS
m*
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1394, by HARPKK A Bit<yTHHHS. All Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 789.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1894.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YEAH.
PROFESSOR JIM'S" CHRISTHAS DINNER.
i;V JANE SMI LEV.
ALMOST every one whom business or pleasure called
past Parker's Alley had learned to know, at least by
sight, " Professor Jim, the Bootblack Artist."
So read a canvas sign festooned about a platform chair,
itself ornamented with brass nails and strips of bright
metal. To his acquaintances Professor Jim was the
" smartest" bootblack in Boston, which perhaps explains
why he was general manager of that particular chair, out
of fifty others in the city which were owned by an indi-
vidual who called himself Mr. Samuels, and who sat spider-
like in a dirty office, high up in a dirty building, to which
these human flies went daily to render their accounts.
Where the bov's father was no one knew.
"Oh, I guess he's alive and kicking somewhere," Pro-
fessor Jim would answer when questioned on this some-
what delicate subject. Of his mother he never spi>k<'.
except when alone with Pete, his younger brother, a boy
of twelve, who limped through life with a crutch because
of some early accident. To the Professor's friends Pete
was a puzzle. That he still went to school was remark-
able enough, but the ease with which he read and wrote
and ciphered was marvellous.
"Why don't Jim send that kid to the cigar facto-
they sometimes asked, taking good care to be out of ear-
shot of the Professor, for of Jim the "crowd," one and
all, stood in wholesome awe.
90
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
First, there were Billy the Kid, suruained because of his
extremely youthful appearance, Jack Turner, whose at-
tention to matters of personal adornment won him the
title of the " Swell," Lock-eyed Ben, who saw more with
one eye than most boys with two, and a dozen kindred
spirits who gloried in the doings and sayings of their
leaders.
During the school vacations Pete limped daily down
to the "stand." and sat oil a little cricket watching the
passers-by. Sometimes he made himself useful doing
short errands or polishing the brass- work of the chair;
sometimes a friendly newsboy lent him a paper to read
in return for favors rendered in the mathematical line;
but more often he amused himself and the boys telling
wonderful stories, for which he was quite famous. It
was a rough-and-tumble existence, of which the working
and school hours were by far the best part, for most of
the boys ate and slept at the house of an old woman, who
made them pay dearly for the privilege.
"If I had more money we'd move quick enough," Jim
would sometimes exclaim in wrath, and then Pete would
beg to go to work, only to be refused, for Jim had great
hopes of his scholarship.
"He's le'rnt heaps," the proud brother would inform
the boys; "gramma' an' history an' 'rithmetic, an' some
time he's going to teach school hisself."
'"Bout all he's good for," muttered one of the listeners.
"What's that?" demanded the Professor, facing about
angrily.
"Oh, I only meant 'cause he's lame, you know, Jim,"
cried the boy.
"Well, keep what you mean inside your mouth," re-
turned Jim, and henceforth no boy was brave enough to
express an opinion on the subject.
It was a bright autumn afternoon, just at that hour
when "work wasn't in it," as the boys said, and they
lounged about the alley.
" What's Pete got in his jacket?" cried Jimmy Peters,
standing up to watch the boy limp across the crowded
street.
" Guess he's swiped something from the peauut man,"
observed Fatty, complacently.
" Shut up !" cried Professor Jim, so savagely, that Fatty
heat a hasty retreat just as Pete reached the curbstone,
breathless.
"Look at here!" he cried, excitedly, opening a ragged
jacket to display a wretchedly thin and dirty little dog,
with bloodshot eyes and mangy fur, who trembled and
whined piteously as he saw himself surrounded.
" Where did yer get him, Pete?" cried Professor Jim.
" There was a tin tied to his tail —
"He ain't 110 great beauty," remarked the wrathful
Fatty.
"Poor little Bummer!" exclaimed Jimmy Peters, rub-
bing the puppy's head with a grimy hand. "I guess he
wants something to eat; he ain't overfat;" at which sug-
gestion the crowd eagerly offered the contents of their
ragged pockets — some bits of bread, a peanut bar, a half-
eaten pickle, and from Fatty the remains of a meat sand-
wich, which last was instantly swallowed by the puppy.
" I say, fellers," cried the elated Fatty, " let's get a col-
lar for the pup, so he won't get lost, an' we can write on
it, ' This dog belongs to the fellers in Parker's Alley.' "
" Bully idea!" cried a chorus; and that night the crowd
went in a body to make the important purchase.
And so Bummer became a recognized member of the
bohemian band, and all went well until the fall.
It was a chilly night in November, and the crowd had
sought refuge in the comparative warmth of Professor
Jim's alley, where Pete, throned on the ornamented
chair, was busily engaged in teaching his pet an amaz-
ingly bi-and-new trick. A friendly policeman passed on
his beat with a warning to make no noise, when sudden-
ly the loud blare of a brass band burst on the still night •
air.
"It's them Germans," cried Professor Jim, and with a
yell the boys broke cover, scenting amusement. Off they
scampered, all save Billy the Kid, who lay outstretched
upon the pavement, idly pulling Bummer's one ear.
"I say, old feller," he remarked to the attentive dog,
" I know something better'n German bands. Ben Cramp's
got a dog ain't half your size;" and gathering the ungain-
ly creature in his arms, Billy ran swiftly through the
deserted streets.
Half an hour later the boys returned.
"Where's Billy?" asked Fatty.
" Where's Bummer?" questioned Pete.
" Oh, I guess they've gone out for a con-sti-tu-tion-al !"
remarked Jimmy Peters between two bites of an apple.
But although it grew cold and late, neither Billy nor
Bummer returned.
"It's time to go home, fellers," announced Professor
Jim. "Come along, Pete, that dog will turn up all ,
right in the morning."
" I wish I hadn't left him," murmured sorrowful Pete,
as he crept slowly to bed.
Early next morning Jim met the Kid. "What did
you do with Bummer ?" he demanded.
" I didn't do nothing with him," returned the culprit,
with a surliness that should have aroused suspicion.
"Well, he's gone."
Almost a week elapsed ere tidings came of the wanderer,
and then, alas! alas! for Billy the Kid. Some gossip told
of an earless, tailless dog he had backed in a fight against
Ben Cramp's cur. The united wrath of the crowd de-
scended on his unprotected head.
"You're a sneak!" cried Jimmy Peters, as he floored
the penitent again.
From that day two boys scoured the city for the lost
Bummer, and so remorseful was Billy that even Pete
relented.
Searching one day in a back street which bounded an
aristocratic portion of the city, Billy suddenly came upon
Bummer — but such a wretched-looking Bummer! His
stump of a tail drooped disconsolately, all the hair round
his throat had been worn away by the friction of a rude
collar, and his original color was lost under several coats
of dried mud; but for all that he was recognized.
"Bummer, dear Bummer!" cried the delighted boy,
clasping the pet in his arms as he raced homeward.
It was on that night of jubilation that the boys, loun-
ging about in old-time friendliness, fell to talking of the
rapidly approaching holidays.
"I've got Bummer back for a Christmas present,"
sighed Pete, contentedly.
" Is there going to be any dinner this year?" ques-
tioned Fatty.
"Wouldn't do us any good if there was; me and
Billy made a kind of a racket last year when Fatty had
the fit " — and Ben looked as doleful as he felt.
"Then none of us fellers will go to their old dinner,"
announced Professor Jim, to which the crowd gave noisy
but regretful assent. The first rule in their code of
honor commanded the boys to "hang' together."
" We've got to do it, fellers," said Professor Jim, with
conviction, glancing at the circle of downcast faces,
"unless" — and then he said no more, for a wonderful
plan had suddenly popped into his own active brain.
Half the night he pondered, and early next day he carried
out the preliminaries by sauntering into the office of the
great hotel whose annex had crowded itself onto the al-
ley.
With cap set rakishly over one ear, both hands in his
trousers pockets, and his lips puckered up for a whis-
tle, Professor Jim felt his manner conveyed an idea of
supreme indifference to observation. " I want to see the
i
DECEMBEK 11, 1694.
HARPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
91
proprietor," be explained to the dapper clerk behind the
desk.
"The who?" gasped the astonished individual.
"The proprietor," repeated Professor Jim, more loudly,
supposing the 111:111 to be deaf.
"I am the proprietor," explained a quiet-looking man
whom the boy had overlooked.
"Well, Fin Professor Jim, who keeps the stand in the
alley," returned Jim; and then getting at once to the
heart of the subject, he continued: "I want tec give a
spread to the fellers on Christinas, an' I thought you
might like the job, being neighbors, you know, and friend-
ly. I've got two dollars an' nine cents. That'll give a
quarter fer each feller, and thirty-four cents fee extras."
"I am afraid — " began the proprietor.
"' Oh, you needn't be afraid," interrupted Professor Jim,
reassuringly. " We ain't used ter any great style."
Perhaps it was the lad's airy independence, perhaps the
spirit of the festive season, that won the proprietor, but
from that moment he felt that, come what might, no house
but his should entertain "the fellers."
"Will you require a private dining-room?" inquired
the proprietor, gravely.
" Cost much?" queried the host expectant.
"We will count it part of the extras."
"Then we'll have it," decided Jim.
" Will you dine at six?" continued the proprietor.
" Go chase yourself!" remarked Professor Jim.
" I mentioned six as the usual hour at which my guests
take dinner."
" Then," said Professor Jim, quite slowly, " we'll come
at six, 'cause we're going ter do this spread on the heavy
swell; but it will be a long time to wait. An' now," he
continued, pulling out an ancient leather pouch, "I'll pay
now an' call the thing square;" and out on the shining
counter rolled the treasured quarters. This done, Pro-
fessor Jim sauntered out with high-bred ease, leaving the
proprietor and his assistant to enjoy the odd adventure,
which they were doing heartily, when suddenly a ragged
cap and towsled head loomed ag-ain above the counter.
"Don't yer ferget the turkey fixings," remarked Pro-
fessor Jim, in a stage-whisper — and was gone.
That night the guests were invited, and great was the
wonderment thereat.
" There's a whole day to wait," moaned Fatty, in an
agony of anticipation.
"That won't be as long as not getting any. dinner,"
remarked wise little Pete, proud of his brother's per-
formance.
Next day was a busy one for the boys, but as they
blew on their frost-bitten fingers or kicked their frozen
heels on the nearest wall, they thought blissfully of the
feast which each hour brought nearer.
"Six o'clock, fellers, at the alley; we ain't waiting for
nobody," Professor Jim had said, and the warning left a
deep impression on their minds.
At four by the clock two boys stood shivering in the
alley ; ten minutes more and another guest arrived ; and
at five the entice company, not omitting Bummer, were
assembled, anxiously watching the timepiece on a neigh-
boring tower.
" That clock ain't going," remarked Ben.
"The hands is friz fast," added Billy the Kid.
" No, they're not, 'cause they're moving now. Let's
play craps till it's time to go," suggested Pete. But
even that lively game failed to divert their otherwise oc-
cupied minds.
" Five minutes to six !" announced Professor Jim, with
fine effect. "Come along, fellers," and he led the way.
The great hotel was unusually deserted, and in the
hallway stood the proprietor, awaiting his strange guests.
"Good-evening, Professor," he said, quite gravely.
"I will take you to your room, and drop in through the
BUMMER !
evening to see you have what you need. George, take
otf the gentlemen's coats."
A grinning darky came quickly forward, but most of
the guests hastily took off their own. Not so Professor
Jim, who allowed himself to be divested with all the
languor he could well assume. And now there came to
light the extensive preparations in matters of toilet made
by the guests. Jack Turner was regal in a celluloid col-
lar, Jim's open coat displayed a flaniiing red tie, icy curls
adorned Billy's brow, and three of the seven had rolled
up their trousers to display every inch of polished boot.
"Your seats, sah 1" remarked .George, with a flourish
of his napkin ; and seven somewhat awed youngsters
slid into their seats, leaving Bummer to frisk round the
room on a lively tour of inspection. " Soup, sah?"
qaieried George.
" Of course," replied Professor Jim, loftily, with an ex-
pressive wink to his guests.
"Why, it's nothing but colored water; at Wiggins's
there's hunks of meat and potatoes floating round in
soup," wailed Billy.
"Well, it's real good tasting, just the same," remarked
Jack Turner.
"Much the same as tea," added Ben.
" No, yer don't!" suddenly interrupted Billy, seizing
fast hold of the plate George sought to deftly remove.
" Is that all we're going to have?" cried Fatty.
"Course not! Let him have it. We ain't at Wig-
gins's. and they're doing things in style — lots of plates
an' fixings," explained the host, whereat Fatty beamed
blissfully on the astonished waiter.
"Good deal like summer,'1 remarked Billy, with quite
a society air, tinkling the ice in his glass.
"Don't you waste any room on water," commanded
Professor Jim.
"Guess not! I didn't get any dinner on purpose.
What's an e-n-t-r-e-e?" questioned Ben, spelling out the
menu.
"Wait a minute; he's bringing it," whispered Pete.
"This is a real good entry, but it's small," observed
the irrepressible Billy, in the manner of an habitual
diner-out; which was indeed true enough, for the dainty
morsel vanished with the rapidity of light.
Then the boys showed both their manners and adapta-
bility by placing the empty plates in a neat pile on the
corner of the table, where they met the eye of the aston-
ished George on his return.
" I's waited on dinners and dinners," he confided to
the proprietor, who was enjoying the scene from the hall-
92
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
way, "but 'fore now I's never had such a party of gents
as dis"; and back he went, his dark face fairly shining
with merriment.
Throughout the feast the quick -eyed Professor Jini
noticed that at times his guests were more excited than
even this festive occasion warranted. Whispers, smiles,
and nods in which he had no share travelled round the
table, and twice his leg received a kick which was evi-
dently intended for Jimmy Peters. At last the mystery
grew oppressive, and he broke out with, "I say, fellers,
what's the matter with you?" whereat the "fellers"
looked at each other crestfallen.
"The cat's broke loose," remarked Jack Turner.
" Let's tell," added Billy the Kid.
"That's not fair," cried Ben, excitedly. "It's your
fault, Jimmy, so you'd better do it now."
" Do what?" demanded the Professor.
And for answer Jimmy Peters unwound his legs from
the rungs of his chair, and rose slowly to his feet. Then,
with both hands deep in his pockets, shoulders well
back, and expanded chest, in careful imitation of a cam-
paign orator he had once seen, Jimmy Peters began
thus:
" Ladies and gents, I am honored — But the boys
broke into a roar. " I say, fellers," he exclaimed, wrath-
full y, " we was going ter do this on the regular swell —
"Go on, Jimmy! Go on!" admonished the laughing
listeners; but Jimmy was obdurate.
"No, I won't," he returned, sullenly.
"Oh, Jimmy, will you please go on!" whispered Pete
so wistfully, that the orator relented.
" Course I will, kid," he answered; and with a sudden
return to his natural manner, continued: "I say, Jim,
we fellers think you're a brick, an' we never had such a
dinner since we was born, an' here's a present the fellers
got you. Merry Christmas!" And then Jimmy Peters,
heated and happy, extracted from the inner lining of his
coat a sparkling brilliant set on a long pin, which he
proceeded to stick in the very centre of his host's scarlet
cravat.
"I say, fellers," began the astonished Professor; and
then for the first time m his short but eventful life he
found himself at a loss for an answer.
"Ain't it a regular beauty!'' exclaimed Pete, to cover
his brother's confusion.
"Here's the turkey!" yelled Fatty, and the announce-
ment was greeted with a smothered cheer.
"Last year I only got stuffing," sighed Fatty, in
thanksgiving over a well-filled plate.
"Was it stuffing gave you the fit?" asked Ben; and the
joke was received with an appreciative yell.
" I say, Jim, how much is this going ter cost?" in-
quired a conscience-stricken guest, to which very natural
question the host replied, "Quarter each, an' thirty-two
for extras." Whereat Ben made a rapid calculation with
his thumb nail on the smooth damask. "Bummer's
part of the extras," added Jim, as he watched the mathe-
matician.
"Fellers," observed Fatty, struggling with a drum-
stick, " suppose we chip in a quarter every day and divy
one dinner, 'stead of gettin' seven at Wiggins's?" Upon
which George fled in haste to a secluded nook in the
hallway.
" I can't eat any more," announced Fatty, with an as-
tonished stare at the rest, who smiled on him silently.
" We're very much obliged to you, Mr. George," whis-
pered Pete, confidently, to the still grinning darky; while
Billy remarked to Jimmy Peters, "Did you ever have so
much dinner before?"
" No, I never did," returned Jimmy Peters, with con-
viction, as they passed onward in slow procession.
" Bully for Jim!" was all they said on parting in the
lamp-lighted alley.
THE STORK. EXPRESS, LIMITED.
BY BARNET PHILLIPS.
JN the last Christmas number of HARPER'S YOUNG PEO-
PLE the first part of "The Stork Express, Limited,"
appeared.
The baby and the Stork never return, however.
" What a grand romp we would have had," she said
to herself year by year — " what a grand romp that baby
and I would have had !"
For several years after what then occurred, when in
early spring storks were on the wing, Great -grandma
Pelican would take a long look at them, following the
birds along the wide stretch of blue sky.
One morning there flitted a long ribbon of storks,
streaming away aloft, and there was a laggard. Then a
single stork cut loose from the flock, and sho£" down-
wards and downwards, falling like a dart towards the
earth .
" Poor thing!" cried Great-grandma Pelican, mightily
disturbed. "Maybe it is hurt or tired." She was think-
ing of a warm sand-bath and other simple restoratives.
The next instant Great-grandma Pelican had a stork
tight folded to her soft feathery breast. It was her own
dear Stork. "Oh, don't you cry so !" sobbed the Pelican.
"You didn't drop that baby by the way?"
Now it was the Stork's turn to calm the Pelican. " No,
dear great-grandma, the infant did not slip off. I ask
you now, did you ever hear of a stork allowing any infant
under his care to be even chipped or splintered? We
should not be carrying on the express business if we
spoiled infants. I landed him safe and sound several
Christmases ago. I didn't lose him, but I lost my heart
to him."
"Rubbish! Just as if there were not plenty of other
babies," said the Pelican, disappointed.
"Of course there are; but the trouble is that it may
just so happen that you love one particular baby more
than another."
..^sf&:-
'WHAT A GRAND ROMP THAT BABY AND I WOULD HAVE HAD!"
DECEMBER 11, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
93
" It's the infant's fault. It ought to be ashamed of it-
self."
"Oil, hold that infant hlameless ! I flew away with
him," said the Stork, " but he kissed his hand to you."
"Did he? That's just like him. I wonder if he knows
or cares how I have twisted my neck quite out of joint
gazing up in the skies for you? Hurry up and fetch him."
" Boo-hoo !" sobbed the Stork. " I could not bring him.
He has grown too big."
" And you don't call that perverseness?
Why are you not an ostrich? You would
not be expected to fly with him, but you
could trot him out if you were an ostrich.
Did you not see him?"
" Yes. I couldn't keep away from him.
It was about four years ago, as you re-
member, when we made our trip. He is
a superb boy now. It happened in this
way. I sat on a tree thinking how I
could manage to attract his attention and
make him understand, and I naturally
scratched my head; that amused him, for
lie clapped his hands. There was a nice
dry spot under a tree, and I hopped down
and danced for him."
" Admirably thoughtful," said the Peli-
can. " Now pray be very precise as to the
exact steps you took. It is important."
" First I gave him the ' Tampa Bay Bo-
lero,' next the 'Everglade Glissade,' then
the 'Jupiter Inlet Jig' and the 'Mem-
phis Mazurka.' "
"Not a bad programme," remarked the Pelican, crit-
ically, " though a trifle fancy."
"I was saving up for the final the ' Sandy Hill Break-
down,' the real old-fashioned plantation thing, and no
mistake, and I threw into that my finest flops."
"Did that fetch him?" inquired the Pelican.
"It did! it did! When, alas! the dear child got
one foot in the mud, it was so marshy, and his shoe
stuck in the ooze, and he stumbled and fell; but I kissed
him."
"We are saved!" cried the Pelican, enthusiastically.
" I might have won him back, but just then a horrid
pup came tumbling in. The clumsy brute jumped on him,
THE GERMAN STORKS.
GREAT-GRANDMA PELICAN WATCHED THE FLIGHT OF THE STORK.
then made an effort to lick his face, and next made a bolt
at me."
" The cur! Oh, I do so hate dogs!" cried the Pelican.
"I made a jab at the pup; he howled, put his tail be-
tween his legs, and scooted. Then when he was safe on
the other side of a fence he barked himself into convul-
sions. I was getting braver and braver, when I heard a
voice saying, ' Where can that blessed child be?' and the
next moment I saw a woman, and I rather fancy she was
my own infant's mother. What could I do then?"
Of course it would never have done for a stork to get
into the bad graces of the mothers. " Couldn't you have
blamied her?" said the Pelican, reflectively.
"She had a parasol in one
hand and a gingerbread in the
other," continued the Stork.
" A parasol is a very danger-
ous weapon," remarked the
Pelican, ' ' and so is gingerbread
when it is underbaked."
When the Stork looked at
the Pelican her head and pouch
were no longer visible. She
had them under her wing.
"I am pondering," said she,
in a smothered voice. "But
go ahead. Anything more?"
"There was nothing- to keep
me there after that. I was so
forlorn ! I became reckless. I
joined a party of tourist storks,
and spent the winter with them
in Abyssinia."
"Those are the storks that
lived in Germany, who are all
soldiers and who smoke pipes."
Then the Pelican jerked her
head out from under her wing,
and slowly approaching the
Stork, whispered something in
his ear.
94
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLDME XVI.
The Stork jumped and seemed amazed. " Wha-t you
propose is frightfully difficult. Why, it endangers my
life and my liberty!" he cried.
"I know it does, but it's your only chance. You will
have to go through a whole course of study — primers,
first and fortieth readers, dictionaries, seventy-six vol-
umes, copy-books, slates, rulers, everything; ink yourself
all over, be late to school, get marks, reprimands, be haul-
ed up before the principal, play truant. Oh, it's hard; I
know it. But," concluded the Pelican, decidedly, "it's
all that or no boy. There ! I have pondered myself into
a headache."
"Will you cry for me real good if you nevermore
Lave tidings of me! Then you will know that I have
been captured or am dead," said the Stork.
" Cry for you? Why, school is not such a dreadful
hardship. Remember this precept : be sure and keep
your face and hands clean." Then the Pelican's good
old heart began to soften. "Cry for you? Certainly—
tumblerfuls — quarts— bushels — lakes — seas — oceans ! So
that you may judge what is the genuine pure sample, I
begin at once;" and great-grandma's eyes just streamed.
The Stork had a moment of hesitation, and then braced
himself for the task. There were love and pity in the
Pelican's face. Once more she enfolded the Stork in her
wings. Then the Stork rustled his broad white pinions,
spurned the ground, and, with a parting cry, was off like
a shot.
[CONCLUDED is NEXT ISSUE.]
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG;
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
CHAPTER XI.
THE THREE FRIENDS MEET.
MR. KING."
" Ay, ay, sir."
Harold was superintending some slight work on the
forecastle deck when he was called by Mr. Harniss.
"I want you and Mr. Briscomb to take the second cut-
ter in tow of the launch, and go to the wharf to bring off
some stores."
"Very good, sir," said Harold.
A few minutes later the boats were alongside. Harold
jumped into the steam-launch a«d took in tow the cutter,
with George in the stern sheets. Neither boat carried a
full crew, but had just enough men to handle them in case
of emergency. All available space and carrying power
was reserved for the stores to be brought off. The strong,
chubby little launch pulled the heavy cutter along at a
lively pace, and as the foam rolled past them and their
speed created a refreshing breeze, the two boys recovered
from a depression which had settled upon them during the
days of dull routine drill and work subsequent to their
arrival. It was tbe first time they had secured an op-
portunity to go ashore. Liberty was not often given on
account of the unsettled condition of affairs in the city.
American seamen were especially liable to assault by the
disaffected elements of the populace, because there was a
suppressed but general feeling that in some way the power
of the United States would sooner or later make itself felt
in the struggle. Harold and George understood the con-
dition of affairs, and they were careful not to permit their
men to leave the wharf. Their stores having been ob-
tained, they got under way again for the ship. As they
were passing the point of the island near which the in-
surgent fleet was anchored, they saw a whale-boat urged
* Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 7&4.
over the smooth water by brawny dark arms. An officer
stood in the stern waving his hand.
"Say, Hal," called George from the cutter, "I do be-
lieve that's Frank."
"So do I," answered Hal.
" Well, we must stop and have a few minutes' chat with
him, old man."
"Yes, of course. We are away inside of the time we
were allowed for getting these stores."
It was Frank. He had been walking the deck of the
Aquidaban, when his eye chanced to fall on the two boats
of the Detroit passing the point. Knowing the ways of
the American navy, lie supposed that they would be in
charge of cadets, and of course there was a chance that
the cadets might be his friends. So he ran to the quarter-
master on duty and borrowed his binocular. The moment
he levelled the glass at the boats he saw that the two
young officers in them were Harold and George. He
went at once to the executive officer of the ship and
said:
" Two boats from the American cruiser Detroit hav&
just gone ashore. They are in command of two class-
mates and dear friends of mine. I'd like very much to-
speak to them, but of course they can't come aboard. Will
you give me permission to go off in a boat and speak to
them as they are returning?"
It has already been intimated that discipline was by no-
means perfect in the rebel fleet. Moreover, the Execu-
tive Officer had eaten a very hearty dinner, and was
sleepy. So he replied:
" Oh, certainly. Goon."
Frank reported the matter to the officer of the deck,
and the boat was at once ordered away. As it approached
the two boats from the Detroit, Harold brought them to
a rest. A minute later all three boats were drifting to-
gether.
"Well, this is a jolly go!" exclaimed George, as he
shook Frank's hand. "Who would have thought that
we three fellows would meet in Rio Harbor?"
" I never expected to see you fellows down here," said
Frank; "but I'm mighty glad that you're here."
" We are not so tremendously glad about it," said Hal.
"Why?" asked Frank.
"Because we are here to help protect American inter-
ests, and I understand they are in more danger from the
reb — from Admiral da Gama than from President Pei-
xoto."
"That may be so," said Frank; "but what difference
does that make to you?"
" Why, Frank," exclaimed George, " we might have to
fight against you."
Frank hung his head and looked sad.
" You didn't think of that possibility when you enlist-
ed in this service, did you, Frank?" asked Hal.
"No, of course not. If I had, I shouldn't have en-
listed."
"Besides," said George, "the chances are that there
will not be any trouble."
" There ought to be," said Frank.
"Why?" asked both the others.
" Because the flag of the United States means nothing
to these people down here. I've seen it insulted half a
dozen times since I've been here by the men under whom
I am serving. I am almost tempted to desert."
" But you wouldn't do that I" exclaimed Harold, at the
same time glancing inquiringly at the Brazilian seamen.
" Never mind them," said Frank. " They don't under-
stand a word of anything except Portuguese and Span-
ish. But why should I not desert rather than see my
country's flag insulted?"
" Because you have pledged yourself to serve under the
insurgent flag. Your word must not be broken," said
Harold.
DECEMBER 11, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
95
"But you might resign," suggested George.
"That would look like running away," said Hal.
"Not if he explained his reasons," said George.
" No, it wouldn't work," said Frank. " They wouldn't
accept my resignation. Educated naval officers are too
scarce, Beniios says. "
" Bennos? Is that the one we met in New York?"
"Yes; and you've no idea what a good fellow lie is.
He has almost made life endurable for me aboard yon-
der ship."
"Remember us both to him, Frank." said Hal, "and
give him our kindest regards."
"What's that?" exclaimed George.
The deep reverberation of a gun rolled up the bay, fol-
lowed by another, and yet others. All hands turned their
gaze southward, where they beheld a white ship with a
three masted schooner rig corning up the bay.
" What ship is that?" asked Frank.
"Don't you remember her?" cried Hal; "that's the
San Francisco! She was not expected till next week."
"That makes four ships for Uncle Sam in Rio Harbor,"
said George.
"Yet there is no match for my prison there," said
Frank-, nodding toward the Aquidaban.
" That's true enough," said Hal. " but the Aquidalmn
may not always be lying at anchor in Rio Harbor. She
may have to go elsewhere."
"I hope and pray that she may do so if there, is to be
trouble with the United States fleet."
The three boys sat silently watching the San Francis-
co as she came speedily up the bay. When she was op-
posite the Aquidaban she ran up the Brazilian flag, and
saluted it. The officers of the insurgent flag ship seemed
somewhat taken aback, but they contrived to reply with-
in reasonable time.
"Well, "said George, "that doesn't look as if there
was going to be trouble."
" I am afraid it does," said Hal ; " trouble for Admiral
Stanton, who's in command of the San Francisco, and
now also of our fleet. I shouldn't be surprised if Uncle
Sam invited him to come home."
"Then you don't think the government at Washington
will recognize— us ?" said Frank, putting a bitter emphasis
on the last word.
" I'm afraid not, Frank," said Harold. " Our govern-
ment is committed to the friendly support of republics."
Bang! went another gun down the bay. This time
all three boys sprang to their feet, for all were thoroughly
surprised.
" It's a white ship!" exclaimed George. "A big one!"
Harold had a pair of marine glasses, and he raised
them to his eyes.
"The American flag!" he exclaimed.
"Then it's the armored cruiser New York!'' cried
George. " Frank, old man, the Aquidaban will find her
an ugly customer!"
" I pray not," said Frank, sadly.
"Poor old man." exclaimed Hai-old. sympathetically.
The three boys now silently watched the magnificent
war -ship steaming in majestic state up the harbor.
Through his glasses Harold could see that the water-
fronts of Rio and Nictheroy were black with people wav-
ing their hats and handkerchiefs. The rigging of the
British men-of-war looked like a lot of spider-webs well
stocked with flies, while the decks of the other war-ships
were crowded with sailor-men gazing eagerly at the latest
example of Uncle Sam's new navy. The American mer-
chantmen maimed their yards and ran up all their flags,
while across the water came ringing three hearty Yan-
kee cheers. The cruiser dipped her flag in answer to all
these tokens of welcome, and steered steadily for the an-
chorage indicated by the San Francisco's signals. With
her three yellow stacks, her two turrets showing the four
eight-inch guns, her frowning broadside of five-inch rap-
id-fire guns, and her double fighting-tops, she looked a
picture of naval prowess. As she glided by the launch
and the two cutters within a biscuit's throw, Harold and
George stood up at attention, their hearts beating high,
while thev read across her rounded stern the words New
York.
CHAPTER XII.
AN ALARMING OUTLOOK.
"W'lCH the same I begs your pardon, sir," said Peter
Morris, who was acting as cockswain of the launch, "but
as my brother Bill used to say, clocks 'ain't got 110 pa-
tience, an' won't wait."
"That's so, Peter," said Hal; "we must be moving
back to the ship."
"Wait a minute, "said Frank. "I've not told you my
most important news yet."
"I thought you had something on your mind," said
George.
" It's about your Cousin Bob," added Hal.
" Partly, and also about my Uncle Hiram and Minnie."
"What is it, Frank?" asked George.
"Have you learned anything about your cousin?" in-
quired Hal.
" Wait a bit, fellows, and I'll tell you the whole of it.
I find now that I was doubly foolish in enlisting in this
service. Not only am I serving a foreign flag, but I am
practically a prisoner on the water. As far as I can as-
certain, my Cousin Robert— if our man is really he— de-
serted from the Tamandare when the rebellion broke
out, and is now in the service of Peixoto. I can't go
ashore to make a single move in the search for him, be-
cause I am an officer in the rebel fleet. And even if I
could, I shouldn't know what to do with him if I found
him, for Bennos tells me the insurgent Admiral would
have him shot for deserting."
"Well, old man, that's pretty rough, "said Hal.
" It are wot we calls afore the mast," said Peter; "hang-
in' atwixt wind an' water."
Frank looked inquiringly at Hal, who said,
" Cockswain Peter Morris is a privileged character with
us; he saved our lives in Norfolk Harbor."
Frank shook hands with the honest seaman, and then
continued,
"I wrote to Uncle Hiram telling him all about this
matter, and three days ago I received his reply."
"What did he say?" asked Hal.
"Well, the fact is," answered Frank, "he's coming
down here."
"What, to Rio!" exclaimed George.
"Yes; he can't stand the anxiety any longer," said
Frank, " and he's coming down to try and carry on the
search himself."
Frank drew the letter from his pocket and handed it
to his two friends. It had been forwarded from one of
the West-Indian islands, and read thus :
"DEAR FRANK, — You will be surprised, I know, when
you read this letter, for I write to tell you that I am
about to start for Rio, where I expect to meet you. Cap-
tain Bisbee, of my bark, the Alma, has been taken sick,
and will be unable to go out this voyage. So I am tak-
ing advantage of the situation to command the bark my-
self, and so go down to Rio to see if I can't do something
about finding my boy. If what you tell me is true, I
sha'ii't have so very much trouble about finding him,
though I may not be able to get him released from the
government service right away. Still, from what I read
in the papers, the rebellion doesn't amount to much, and
will soon be over. I've made up my mind to bring Minnie
along with me. I haven't any one to leave her with, and
AS THE "NEW YORK" GLIDED BY HAROLD AND GEORGE STOOD UP AT ATTENTION.
I haven't the heart to put her in a boarding-school. So,
as the Alma lias about as tidy a cabin as any clipper-ship
that sails out of New York, she's going to be my pas-
senger. So when you get this letter, Frank, I'll be taking
a squint to windward once more, and heading for low
latitudes with as fine a keel under me as ever was laid.
Minnie sends you her love.
Your affectionate uncle,
HIRAM LOCKWOOD."
"P.S. — We are lying at anchor at St. Thomas, and I
just found this letter in one of my pockets. I thought
I'd sent it long ago. We fell in with a hard puff from
the no'theast the other day, and carried away our flying
jibboom. So I made St. Thomas to get another. Pm
going to send this letter by the steamer that leaves to-day.
Minnie's learning to be a right good sailor, and before we
get home I reckon she'll be able to keep her weather eye
lifting with the best of them."
"What a brave, cheerful man he is iu spite of his
trouble !" said Hal, warmly.
" Yes, he is, God bless him !" said Frank. " But I wish
he knew the exact condition of affairs down here."
" Is it so bad for the merchant-ships?" asked George.
"If you weren't just cadets," said Frank, a little im-
patiently, "you'd know what was going on. Merchant-
ships in this harbor haven't had any protection at all.
Our gunners are rank, and there have been some pretty
wild shots that must have scraped the varnish off some of
their spars. Worse than that, I don't think our officers
care a rap if we do hit a bark or two. England's the only
power we're afraid of, and we think she sympathizes with
us. But there's something else. Have you noticed the
wharves?"
"Yes," replied Harold. "They're all unoccupied."
"And the merchant-ships," continued Frank, "are
spending a lot of money on lighters to land their cargoes.
That's because Admiral da Gama refuses to let the ships
go to the wharves, for when they are there he can't fire
on the city on account of their being in the line of fire."
"I hadn't thought of that," said Harold.
"No," said Frank, "and I didn't pay much attention
to it myself till I got this letter. Now I know Uncle
Hiram. He will not come down here without a cargo;
and he'll insist on going to a wharf. Besides, he must be
in constant communication with the city if he's going to
find Bob; and so —
The boy's speech was rudely interrupted by the shriek
of a shot passing over the boats.
"Give 'way, lads!" he cried; "it's one of the govern-
ment's armed tugs, and she's after me."
" How dare they fire on our flag'?' exclaiined George.
" W'ich same they didn't," said Peter; '"cos w'y, I took
it down. It are jest as well to keep dark w'en you are
a-conversin' with rebels."
"But they'll catch him," said Hal. "He has half a
mile the start, but his men can't row him fast enough."
"W'en in doubt play trumps are wot I says," said
Peter. " Let's go an' give him a tow."
It was a hazardous thing to do, for if the boys had been
detected by their superiors they would have been liable to
court martial for "taking sides" in the quarrel. The
little launch puffed awayand soon overtook Frank's boat.
"Give us your painter, old man," cried George ; "we'll
tow you close to the Aquiddban."
The line was taken, and the launch began to tow the
two cutters.
"They're a-gainin'on to us," said Peter; "but a stern
chase are a long chase, as the plough said to the farmer."
At this instant a heavy report rang out, and a shot
from the Aquidaban whizzed aci-oss the bows of the tug.
"I reckon that'll take four knots off her speed, "said
Peter, looking back over his shoulder.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE DOLLS. -A DRAMA IN PANTOMIME.
Music BY OWEN WISTEK.
FLOIUAN, n Savoyard.
JOBST, a Fa i in- /••
CAPTAIN RUDOMONT, a Fn n,-h Soldi* /
A ULACK. FOOTMAN.
BY THOMAS \VIIARTON.
CHARACTERS /
A (iiCANTH F.'ftTMAN.
A ( 'T.I' IKiVMA N.
FltKNCIl AND (il'KMAN SoLDI
WKDDING GUHSTS.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY HOWARD I'ENFIELU.
TINA, a Shepherdess.
MAI>EMOISKLI,I<:. <r 1'nrixiitn.
HAGAU, a Black Maid.
CHRY.SANTIIKMI.MI, a ./II/HIIX-M .}fai
WHILE the curtain is still down one
corner of it, is pushed timidly aside,
and Florian puts out his head and
peeps at the audience. Gathering
courage, lie thrusts his shoulder for-
ward, and finally, after several at-
tacks of shyness, succeeds in bring-
- ing himself wholly before the cur-
tain. Once iu full view, he sidles
to the middle of the slage, and with
a bobbing reverence that shows the
woodenness of his joints, begins the
prologue.
FLOKIAN. Only a moment. I will
only ask a moment.
(He holds n/i tirn Jinii, rs
nml nm/,,s ,'n i.i'm'issiri
TINA ENTERS. i/'sture.) You see, I am
the Prologue (In Ini/s Ins
Immls nn his Imast, then extends thun, nml limi'S to the
ri;/hl and left), and 1 am sent to beg your favor (he
motions toward the side .sce^les, and shines ijnn, /nnv he has
coma on the star/e), and to tell you (he stretches out his
/mm/} what is the meaning of our play. (Now both
his little hands are stretched out.) Alas! you think us
dolls! (He expresses tins Immutable iilm hi/ shaking
his hut,/ smllii; In iiiiints to the Spec/nfin's, nml then at
himself; then, all at oner he assumes the avkii-an/, life-
less attitiidt of a doll, and stands so for a nnnm'nt.) Yes,
dolls. (He repeats the attitude.) But we are Dot. (lie
changes suddenly inl,, nn n/fitmle of the most I'ie/orotts
and indignant denial.) No; we are not the creatures
that you play wilh and consider mere bits of wood
and cloth and wax. (He stands quivering before th< au-
dience, his breast hineiml, /lis Immls n/n ninil nml shiltliini;
lii sums to lie impliii'iinj i/nn in understand.') We are like yourselves.
( He strikes his mm hrenst, aiul then makes a proud and sn-i r/>imi n,s; nn ir/fh
his arm, .so fix to take in all those ii;hnsi' ri/rs an Inrmil iifmn him.) We
see; we hear; we have hearts to feel. (Florian first similes Itiseijfs and
sums lo look into tin ilislnnri ; In: ji/ans /iis Iminl to his mr nml Us/ins .
iln n In I'ln/is his Immls tn his heart, as if he had received a blow there.)
Yes, we have our sorrows and our joys, anil they are like yours.
(Hi depicts sorrow am/ nn/ in t " fit, n ml n-iili n mnnnniif full of meaning
rfnni* nut Ins lift /mm/ linen ,'</ //n spectators, pressing Im/m f/n l,Liins\ nf
these ,nm I, mis lo their men.) No; do not look on us as puppets and
playthings. (Iff im/i/s n/> /iis Innnl in, ii-ari/iin;, /i/s his nrins ilfuji Innn/
ami ii'ooi/en like a doll's for nn inslniil, Iln n recovers liims, If nml .slink, s
/us lii, ill.) \fe pray to you (he kneels), think of us as your fellows
(he stretches out his arms beseechingly), vrho are stirred by the same
passions and breathe the same air.
[He xpriniis fn his fat, t.rfinds /iis n/'ms toward 7teaven,and i-ns/s /iis
ei/es iijiii'iii-il in , .I'lil/n/mn. lie stands (has fin- n hrii r snnn .-
111, n turning toward tht snl, sums, ilnns Ins Immls lhl-« linns ill
measured Innts, nml motions for tin1 rnrfain to be raised. He
waves an adieu to the audience, and runs out quickly. The cur-
tain rises.
ACT I.
The scene represents a meadow and grove near a village. The
farm-bouse of I he farmer stands on the light. It is surrounded
by chickens and sheep. To the left is seen the grove. Across
the back of the stage runs a brick wall. It is early morning,
and the stage is still dark.
AIUIS TINA.
THE STl.Mn-
FIRST SCENE.
JOBBT, THE FAKMKK; AFTKIUV
enters from the right, behind the farm-house.
He carries a lantern. He yawns profoundly; in
so doing he raises his arms so high that he dis-
covers that the lamp is still burning. '"He has-
tily blows it out. Immediately day breaks over
Hie farm in full splendor. Job.it sets down the
lantern, and proceeds to count his sheep and
chickens, ticking them off on his fingers. He
becomes confused, and is forced to begin over
an'ain. This happens twice. At last lie sat-
isfies himself that his stock is
still iniact. and nods his head
in satisfaction. He Uuoeks
over a chicken, and >ets it on
iis feet again; then raising bis
head, he looks about him.
Jin:sT. Where is Tina'.' (lie ////•/»• evident signs
nf dissatisfaction.) Tina! (He calls, s/nm/is liis fun/,
nml motions with his arm. Tina enters slmrlii. i-nh-
hiinl her eijes ami iinirninii. .^/n rnri'iis n s/nn/n nl's
crook ) Hurry up, you idle little good-for-no-
thing!
//, -i'lim/is his foot once more.
TINA. Oh, how tired I am!
[NAf jnins tier /nnn/s in supplication.
JOBST. Do you not see what lime it is? (He
/minis In iln sun.) Be off with your sheep to the
re.
[ To xhm'' hi r ii'/mf In imilns In Injis In:' CTQoh ,-['M u.\LY TINA!
98
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
FLORIAN DANCES IN.
tin n points to the sheep, and then in the
direction of the pasture, which apparently
lies off to the left beyond the grove.
TINA. But 1 have not breakfasted yet!
\Sln nrtij'is -Jobst's ordir with alarmed sur-
prise; and pointing to her teeth, which she
chatters as if she were eating, and rnlhiini
In r stiimin-li, she shakes her head to signify
that sf 1 1 is still us liinifirtj as ichm she got
il fi I'll! i>f In il
JOBST. Here, then.
[from one pockit nf l/i.i long overcoat he
tnki-s mi <i/>iilt, ichich he breaks in half.
II is about to give half to Tina, when In
t'l^f ruins liiiii.it/f, and breaking the half
inlii two pieces, gives her a quarter. From,
the other pocket of his overcoat he takes a
piece of bread. He breaks that in half ;
then looks at Tina as before, and breaks
the half intn tn-i'i tfiiiirti r.s • : linn lie shakes his head, and puts
all the bread, back into his pocket.
TINA. Stingy old hunks!
[She whimpers, and shon-s htr out- poor little quarter-apple, ichich is
all she has to nibble.
JOBST. Be off now!
[He picks up the sheep, and carries them one by one to the grove,
where he sets them down in a row, with their noses all pointing
toward the pasture. On one of these trips he again upsets a
i-hickt-n.and n/ilaces it on its feel. His task accomplished, he
beckons to Tina, and solemnly pointing toward thefiock, recom-
mends her to her ilnti/.
TlNA (rubbing In r ii/is). Yes. sir.
[Exit Jobst, R., with a warning gesture.
SECOND SCENE.
TINA, AI.ONE; AFTERWARDS FLORIAN AND JOBST.
TINA {alone). Oh. how miserable I am! (She casts down her crook
and comes forward, wringing her hands.) As for my sheep (she points
behind her), I hate the sight of the silly things! (She raises her
clinched fist in execration.) What a life I lead! (Stretching out both
hands, she exhibits her miserable condition to the pitying spectators.) I
am cold, I am sleepy, I am hungry, and I wear this tattered old
dress (appropriate gestures make this pathetic recital quite plain), and I
tend those stupid woolly beasts for Farmer Jobst. (Her eyes blaze
us she points In the sheep again.) What should I like to do? Have
a fine dinner (she smacks her lips), dance (she dances), wear beautiful
clothes, and be a lady. (She parades up and down, lifting an imagi-
nary train, ami admiring herself.) But, alas! I am only Tina, and I
shall never, never have any good fortune. (She hangs her head in
il' ep depression. As she indulges hei'self in these gloomy reflections n fi u-
notes of a shepherd's pi pi sound oittside. Tina raises her head in expec-
tation.) It is Florian!
Florian enters from tin lift ii-ifli n _»/<"/.*/'/-. lie plays on a shepherd's
I'l/n . He dances up to Tina, nml makes as if to embrace her ; but she
turns fri'in hiin, heavy-hearted.
FLORIAN. What is the matter?
TINA. I am unhappy. [She sighs.
FLORIAN. Never mind. Let us be gay.
[He gives her a convincing little illustration, accompanied by a note
or two on his pipe.
TINA. Impossible. [She shakes her head gloomily.
FLORIAN. Why?
TINA (looks around fearfully). Farmer Jobst.
[Sht- points in the direction in which he disapjieared.
FLOKIAN. Pooh!
TINA (crying). He will beat me.
[She cowers, and shams Florian how the old farmer will use his horny
hands.
FLORIAN. I have it. Marry me.
[He triumphantly passes an imaginary ring on her third finger.
TINA. Do you mean it?
FLORIAN. Certainly.
TLNA. But Farmer Jobst?
[Again she indicates her fear that the old fellow may be coming.
FLORIAN. We will run away.
[He shnri-s In i- luni'. nml catches her tnnnl.
TINA. Now?
FLORIAN. Why not?
TINA. And the money? [She counts out imaginary gold pieces.
FLORIAN. Alas! I forgot that.
[Ht tries one pocket after the other; both are em/iti/.
TlNA. I told you SO. | •*>'/« turns away, silently tearful.
FLOHIAN. Tina!
[He follows her,full of sympathy, andpassis his arm about her shoul-
der. Unfortunately, it is just at this moment that the tyrannical
old Jobst reappears with a big stick, which he proceeds to lay
across Master Florian 's shoulders. Florian cries out, and runs
away, L. Jobst sternly orders Tina to proceed to the pasture.
Tina, n-t:t:ping, picks up the sheep and carries them off t/n sti'ir*
one by one. As soon as Jobst perceives that she is fairly started
in her labors he leaves her, with a warning scoii'l. Ax In goes
off toward the right Mademoiselle enters — the most *nj» >•!>
l-'ri-iich doll that ever'was seen — attended by a negro footman.
Jobst almost bumps into her, and seeing n-lmt he is doing, bim-s
t<> tin ground before her. She receives his apology with a havffhty
xnni-1. Tina, from the grove, observes this vision of loveliness
THIRD SCENE.
TINA. MAI'FMOISEI.T.IS ANT> THE FOOTMAN.
MADEMCIISKI.I.E. Little shepherd girl, be off! [She points away.
TINA. Nobody wants me.
[She makes a despairing gesture with both hands, and in so doing
nearly drops htr last sheep.
MADEMOISELLE. Be off, I say!
TINA (drawing nearer). Please let me feel if your dress is silk.
[Xlic tries to feel it.
MADEMOISELLE (drawing herself up proudly). Hercules! (The
Ji'iifiiiiiii interposes, nml waves Tina off. Tina finally disappears to
IHH.IIII-C her sheep. To the footman.) I shall conceal myself here
behind these irees (she points to them), where I shall be unobserved.
(She lays her finger to her lips and. hides behind the largest tree.) Go.
[She motions him utray. Exit the footman.
FOURTH SCENE.
CAPTAIN ROHOMONT AND ins MEN; AFTRILWARDS FLORIAN.
MADEMOISELLE CONOKAI.KD.
The gallant Captain enters, R., at the head of his men, who ad-
vance with the peculiarly rigid and jerky step that might be
expected of tin soldiers. He halts them in the middle of tin-
stage, where they stand in a perfectly straight line, with their
guns over their shoulders. While the Captain addresses them
^Mademoiselle looks out from behind her tree with evident pride
in his martial bearing, and also with evident satisfaction in the
trick she is playing upon him.
RODOMONT. My men (they present arms very slowly and jerkily), the
enemy is before you. (He points off, L. The tin soldiers raise their
right legs simultaneously, and drop with leaden confidence into (he pi^itinn
of i-fmrgc liaimints.) He will doubtless resist you. (Rodomont
tii-i * it supposititious Mauser rifle at his men, but they remain unmonedat
/In idnrniing prospect.) He will struggle with you to the death.
(The gallant warrior uses an imaginary bayonet with ti'rri//>- !'i>ri-i _}
Many will fall. ( lie claps his hand to his breast, closes his eyes, am! /its
his jaw drop like a dead man's.) Their comrades will weep for them.
(He assumes a patriotic attitude, head bared and bent, eyes fixed on a m n-ly
made grave, cap held in the hands.) But you will be victorious. (The
i'ltjitniii \i/ji> i-lifit ii'nvis an iniiiginari/ banner, and calls attention to tlie
cross of the Legion of Honor dangling on his breast.) Such, my chil-
dren. is the reward of the soldier. Go now to victory. I have
1111 engagement here for the present. (At their Captain's riimmnnd
tin tin .-.n/i/ii r* in-ill i- ii ml lln a i-iirrt/ arms, and march out, L. Rodomont
strikts ft is breast, and points to the ground to indicate that he will n n«i m .
Looks about anxiously.) Where is she? (Mademoiselle, dclin/i/id
with the success of her ruse, drau's herself into a vtry small i'n,n/»i>x. n ml
n mains concealed behind the tree.) It is very late. (He cmisii/ts his
watch, "nd starts with surprise ti> sn the hour. A<j«ni /«\ ijia/ni M/V/'.S
round the stage, aiul finally falls upon Florian, n-ho cnlirs nn tiptoe, R.,
in find Tina again. To Florian.) Who are you?
FLORIAN. Florian, sir. [He makes an attempt at a military salute.
RODOMONT. Be off ! Or no. Here — tome! (He questions Flori-
.-iii imjinssinly.) Young man, listen. Have you by any chance
seen near here (with a wave of his hand he includes their surroundings)
a lady, very tall and stately, beautiful, with golden hair, blue
eyes, pretty rosy cheeks — have you seen such a person?
[His gestures show how the gallant Captain wishes to describe the lady
to Floriau.
FLORIAN. Have I seen a lad}' — tall — beautiful — golden hair —
blue eyes — rosy cheeks — have I seen her?
[He repeats the Captain's attittidtf.
RODOMONT (delighted). Exactly.
FLORIAN. Yes, indeed! and 1 will bring her to you.
[He points to himself, then off\j., and tin n
back to Rodomout.
RODOMONT. Capital!
[He rubs his hands. Florian runs off,
ii.,t/n n/i/iir mi rn ni-e. Mademoiselle,
who has followed tlii* mti n-ii n- with the
deepest interest, conrmls Inrsilf as Fln-
rian runs by, then shoics herself for a
moment, and i/nlnlii'^ in a quiet fit of
lamihter behind the unconscious Cap-
tain's back. Then she. disappears
again.
FIFTH SCENE.
RODOMONT, THEN TINA AND FLOKIAN ; LATEK
MADEMOISELLE.
THE CAPTAIN. At last I shall see her.
(He stands in nn attitude of joyful expectalimi,
DECEMBER 11, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
99
JDBST IS OVF.KOIMK.
Imt he cannot wait long
a i l/i patience.) What,
not yet here?
[He turns ami looks
off after Flori-
an, curling his
mustachios. Flo-
rian runs in,
bringing Tina.
FLORIAN. Hero sin
is!
[Tina nimle^/y casts
don'ii her eyes.
They both hold
out their hanels
for a tip.
RODOMONT. Kon-
sense!
FLORIAN. What's
the matter?
RODOMONT (turning amiy loftily). It's not the right person at all,
ni\ uood youth.
FLORIAN. No? Why not? Look at her. Isn't she tall — beauti-
ful— with golden hair — blue eyes — and rosy cheeks?
[He points out these adrantnges to Rodomont, and, as if to emjiha-
size his remarks, he kisses his hand to Tina. Then he aijain
holds out his hand to the Captain for a i-crmiijicnsi for rnniiinii
his errand.
RODOMONT. Certainly not, yrou scamp!
[He teaves Floriau away, and turns to meet Mademoiselle, who ad-
vancix "'if/i i/ii/tiifi/ from her hiding-place.
MADEMOISELLE. Rodomont!
RODOMONT (with effusion). Mademoiselle!
[//c takes In r hiinil and bows over it. Then he nods a distant adieu
to Tina, and conducts Mademoiselle off.
SIXTH SCENE.
TINA, FLOEIAN, THEN JOUST.
At the sight of Mademoiselle, all Tina's bitterness of spirit re-
turns. She had a moment of happiness when she stood before
this splendid officer, but now she sees it was only transitory.
lie has been reclaimed by the proud, the brilliant, and high-
born Mademoiselle, who is of his own rank in life, and '/'</'« is
left to be consoled by Plorinn. He is full of sympathy, and
takes her hand, but she looks off after the departing couple.
She clinches her fist and stamps her foot.
TIXA. I hute her!
[As the two stand together, Jobst appears again, R. He ca/dus
sight < if Ihnn. and, after a moment spent in. horrid glon/ini/ nn r
the opportunity thus offered to him again, he steals ftp behind
Florian nnil ilenl* li'/m a terrible thwack with his stick. Tina
screams, and runs off] L. £ut this time Floriau's spirit is
aroused. He turns on Jobst, snatches the stick from h's Innnl .
and,after « brii^f strni/i/l, , elmsis him nff' the stage. As he runs
he trips in; r tin unfortunate chicken lehich hns been so freiji" nt/y
Wei-sit; In- pic/.-s it up and hurls it after the flying Jobst.
SEVENTH SCENE.
FLORIAN, ALONK; LATKB, A GERMAN TIN SOI.IHEK.
FLORIAN (he comes back to the centre of the stage). I was never so
angry in my life! (He makes an emphatic gesture with his fat.} What
with Jobst (lie paints off R.) and the Captain (he points off L. ) I am
in a fine passion, I promise you. (He shows yon that his cho/er has
mounted up, up, up, from the lowest button of his waistcoat to his very
ciiix; and then he tosses his arms in, the air to denote how he has esplodeel
ii-itli if rath.) Sly poor Tina! (He points off toward the pasture, and
assumes a iluliieinis expression.) But I will revenge her! (He bran -
i/is/ns his fist and walks up and down.) But how? (He stops and con-
sults with himself ; he takes his chin in his hand and plunges deep into
reflection. At this moment the spiked helmet and head of a Ijcrmnn tin
M'A/V< r appear above the brick wall. The tin soldier carefully sura //* tin
scene ; on beholding Florian he cautiously drops behind the wall again, but
not so quickly that he has not been perceived in his turn by Fiorian, who
hns wheeled quickly on hearing a noise. Florian at once gives signs of
linely satisfaction. ) The very thing ! (He claps his hands together, and
points with exultation to the njall. He looks about for something with
which to signal to the soldier. He has Jobst's stick, find after a mo-
ment's hfsitntiim ilrnu's (nit of his pocket a perfectly interminable hand-
ki /•e/iief, which he ties to the stick. He then creeps to the wall, and waves
the white flag thus formed above it. The tin soldier's heeiel once more
appears above the wall. He ami Florian look into each other's eyes.
Florian, with an air full of mystei-y, ami liis finger to his lip to i n/oin
silence, invites him to descend. The soldier does so. Florian, tn/.-inii him
by the arm, proceeds to hatch out a conspiracy irith. him. Florian /mints
o/f'L.) Do you see there, in the distance, a red object? That is
Captain Rodomont, a French officer. (He shows the German soldier
that the Captain wears a cap. a sn.'orel, and mustachios,) His men are
near him. (Florian shoulders a gun, and counts ten or a dozen on his
fingers.) We will not attacU him now. (The German ioldier, n-illi
vie/orous sheikc of his head, shows that he is quite of the same opim-*-!.)
We will go obtain re-enforcements (Florian points behind the wall,
and counts on his fingers so fast that one can hardly follow him), a whole
regiment (the German soldier nods assent), and \ve will return and
rapture the Captain.
[Florian shows how they n'ill go anel return ; he thtn mimics the
action of one who points a pistol, and says, " Surrender!" The
soldier claps him on the back, and assures him of his hearty co-
operation. They run to the wall. Florian helps the soldier to
ascend, and the soldier pulls him up after him. Thus they ilix-
appear.
EIGHTH SCENE.
CAPTAIN RODOMONT, MADEMOISELLE, THE FUENOII TIN SOLDIERS.
Captain Rodomont and Mademoiselle, re-enter through the grove.
The Captain hurries forward, looking earnestly toward the left,
as if expecting an important, arrival from that quarter. Sure
enough, the French tin soldiers are seen returning. They
deploy into line across the stage, and the Sergeant steps for-
ward and salutes.
THE SERGEANT. Captain, we sought the enemy (he points to the
left), but did not find him. (A sweeping gesture of negation makes it
positively clear that there was no enemy to be found.) We made thor-
ough search (the Sergeant with hi* hand over his eyes mimics a man
j>i ei'niq about); we challenged him (by shouting di fiance, so the Sergeant
ej-/i/iiiiis); we even insulted him (the Sergeant explains by making ges-
tures that show his contempt) — did we not, my brave boys? (the tin sol-
ilii rs simultaneously corroborate the Sergeant with the same gesture) —
but all to no purpose. (Again he shakes his head.) In fact, Captain,
the enemy has run away.
[The Sergeant points to the left, and imitates a man running away.
Tin n he recovers anel salutes.
RODOMONT. Very good. To your quarters.
[The Sergeant salutes, wheels, gives the word. The tin soldiers make
ei half turn, and march out R. in single file.
NINTH SCENE.
RuhOMONT. MAHK.MOI6EI.LK; LATER. FI.ORIAN, THE GERMAN TIN SOLDIERS, AND
TINA.
RODOMONT. Brave fellows!
[lie points offer his soldiers with signs of approbation.
MA DEMOISELLE. They are indeed.
[She nods an enthusiastic assent.
RODOMONT (gallantly). Say that you admire a soldier.
[He lays his hand on his breetst.
MADEMOISELLE. Ah, Captain! [She drops her eyes and sini/m
RODOMONT. My uniform is not displeasing to you?
[He e.rhilits it.
MADEMOISELLE (clasping her /ninth). I dote upon it.
RODOMONT. You are not terrified by the dangers of a mili-
tary life?
[To make this important qfte.it inn plain t<i her In first rattles ei drum,
and then blows a trumpet ; then he draws his sword, and lays
about him among imaginary foes ; next he fires a gun, and nm
tates the bursting of a shell — boom! And after each actii-n lie
deirts fiery and questioning glances at her.
MADEMOISELLE. Terrified? On the contrary, I am stimulated
— inspired.
[She takes the Captain's hand in her lift hand, and with her right,
strikes her breast, as if to show with irhat patriotic sentiments
her heart is responding, anel she points upward toward an imagi-
nary fiag.xt, iff.
While she has been making these professions of enthusiasm and
undaunted courage, however, the enemy has ambushed the
unfortunate pair of dolls. Over the wall and without the
least noise slips first Marian, wearing a German officer's fatigue
overcoat and helmet, and after him eight tin German soldiers,
who, as they reach the ground, form
in line across the stage. And it thus
results that Maelemoiselle and Captain
Rodomont are interrupted. Hm-im,
steps forward, salutes, and informs
the unfortunate pair that they are
his prisoners.
FLORIAN. Surrender!
At this the Captain, furious with rage,
is about to rush on Florian, who does
not wear a sword, but he is re- "• — _ ^J( ;
strained by two circumstances. First
of all the haughty Mademoiselle incon-
tinently faints in his arms, and, sec-
ondly, Flnrian points calmly at his
company. The little tin soldiers
make a step forward in line, as if
about to seize the Captain and his
unconscious burden. Just as they
do so, however, Tina rushes in from
the pasture through the grove, and at
a glance comprehends the situation. MADEMOISELLE HIDES.
100
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
CAPTAIX RiiIiuMOXT AND HIS MEN.
TINA. Capture
him? Never!
[She p'tnsis just
lonij eii'ioah to
reifister (his roie,
and llo n, riish-
ini; upon th.e
tittle fin sol-
i/o rs, ifii'es the
nml the whole
rank topples
oeer, just as I it-
tb tin sobliers do
ir/nn I/on /i/ni/
withthem. And
OS thill lie tin re
heaped upon
each olher, the
French soldiers
Tina has sai-eel Captain
run in n/nl jiin them to the around
Rodomont.
Fr.ORiAN. What's this? [lie stares with all his eyes.
M uiKMoISELLE (rerorerinii In r senses). Arc we saved?
| S/o filni'i s one hnnil i mpii eimjl i/ on Rodomonl's shoulder, and looks
leiliilil obont In r.
RODOMONT. Too late.
[He pills her disthlinfnllil hut not rinblil /'rom him
MADEMOISELLE. Rodomont!
RODOMONT (n'ith n contemptuous glance), What! you love a sol-
dier's lite? This is the woman who saved me.
[He e.rti nils his hninl to Tina, ii'bo eonos forn-oril modestly, "nil ii'ilh
becoming timidity loits In r homl in his.
MADKMOISELLE. Impossible!
FLOKIAN. She leaves me?
ACT II.
The scene is set to represent a doll's house
furnished with much magnilieence. A
door C.
FIRST SCENE.
HAGAR ANII CIIHYHANTIIKMUM, TIIK.N ROPDMONT
AND TINA.
llae/or and Chrysanthemum, onea ncgrcss.tlie
other a Japanese maid, are discovered
fas. i a-leep. /fniriir is stretched out in an
absurd attitude in a chair, while Cliriisnn-
themnm is ffracefully coiled up on a di-
van. A loud knocking is heard without.
I/ni/iir opens her eyes, listens, then crosses
to ('hri/snntlieniiiin, and wakes her.
HAGAR. Some one is at the door.
[She points to it.
CHRYSANTHEMUM. Answer it yourself,
then.
[Slie snreeys Hagar scornfully, then points firs/ at In r ami 111 ft ol
the door. Then she curls hers,!/' up m/nin ami '/'"* /" sl"f>.
Hagar xhrin/x her xhonbbrs, ami nlnrns In lor ehnir. The
knorkimi ri'/onb/es in riolenee Clll'ySanl llelllUm rises, rrossi x
to I [:| M'ar, irnkis lii r.ilinl points to llo door. Tin soon eonni/l/
as before is enacted. The knocking noie be'comcx olormimi in its
violence. Presently il nosis, nnd a ffigivilic footmem throies
,I/H n the door, oml Rodomont ami Tina i nt, r. Tina is s/ill
dnssiil ox in Hiefirxi net. Ilagar and Chrysanthemum bow to
Rodomont.
RODOMONT. Ilagar and Chrysanthemum, this is your new mis-
tress. i;,i\v to her. (The;/ boie. If, /urns to Tina.)' This is your
home. All here is yours. [\Vith o snpirb ij,s'nre In plaees every-
thiiof nt her disposal .
iBHl 'I'iNA. Oh, how beautiful! I
dream!
[She elasps her hands in i/reaf
ecstasy.
RODOMONT (proudly). You
observe that we possess a ta-
ble— chairs — curtains on the
\\ mdows — and a bureau.
[He designates these objects in
succession.
TINA. Enchanting!
RODOMONT. Hagar! Chrys-
amhemum! (They approach.)
Bring your mistress her new
robes.
[Ilagar mid Chrysanthe-
mum rim to the bin-ran, and
from tin ilrn/i'i rs toke on/
iloril'inix dolls i/rissex, lehirh
FLORIAM ATTEMPTS A SALUTE. '/".« dis/,/,,1, bifnr, Tina.
TINA. How lovely!
how exquisite! I .\"«'-
n roll >l s/o i/oex into rapt-
tire's In fore llo in. She
i-lnxjix lor hands fol/eth-
er, feels the stuffs, si i-"!,, \
tin dresses, and m/mirix
/hem) Howcan lever
thank you enough?
[She nm/.'i.x a gesture
of gratitude and
recognition.
RODOMONT. Which
will you wear?
TINA. How can I
make up mv mind?
This— or tin's? This
is more elegant, but
this seems to suit me
better. Which do you
prefer?
[The attitudes /oi
' IliinojJit i^ Hindi nitoiifixt
THE CAPTAIN SALUTES MADEMOISELLE.
t/iis train
readily snatfest thenis'lns.
RODOMONT (nrotifinl, but rfmembering theit a soldier tnirsf not exhibit
a too crito'ol acquaintance n-ilb n/i/finiri/). How can I decide? It is
enough for me if you are arrayed as befits your beauty.
TINA. Go, then, and I will make a choice.
[*S7/f acguaintS him teit/i her purpose thus: she shnkes her flnc/er fit
him in am/ lenrniinf : thin li-ith both hoiols sin dinii-s his atten-
tion first to herself nnd then to the dresses; then she smilingly
points him to the deior. He boil'.s, oml more/us out, head i reel.
SECOND SCENE.
TINA, HAGAU, ANT> CHRYSANTHEMUM.
TINA (to th, moids — n nj impi rionslii — lor manner betrays the deiiijht
she f,e:s in commanding for the first time).
Bring the dresses here. Hold them up to
the light. Good! Hagar, lift your arm
higher. Which shall 1 take? Impossible
to decide! Chrysanthemum, come closer.
Y'es, that muslin; ah! exquisite! I will
Choose this! No(*A. turns ar/aili); how can
I leave the other? Why not wear them
both? (Anil she fail-hen the skirts of both ilressis
a1) id clasps them, enraptured, to her bosom.) AA ell
(ii-it/i a xiah). if I must choose, choose I
must. ( With her r'n/ht hnnil she drnirs tin
deis-, ir-hirh Hagar holds iloser to her, while with
her left she thrnats the olio r loimnl Chrysan-
themum to be borne ait-ar/. The little Jopnn
is* boslili/ bears aiea/i the rejected dress, nnd
f'tin'iisof one,, llaiiar e<irifnllii spreads the
'dress tehieh Tina has ehosell over a ehnir.
Tina rlnps her bunds. ) Quickly, now!
[At this the maids busy themselves to
assist her to riinore her dress, and
I/on bihobl lor in her little comitrn i/ir/'x smoct. n'ith her sair-
dlt-St-stnff'id arms oml lefts stitched at lln ,/bo/fx and knees. In a
r, > n /',"• moonlit^ the itew dress is substituted for the old, a bine
sash is tied about Tina's waist, and her i-m-li/ blond hair is
odor md n'ith n b/ne rib/ion. A gold chain is ihrolt'li obont her
neck, and ox for lot- lilil, ft, Ilagar nml Chrysanthemum
fit them ifl/h on i/ii/nnt pair of red k/d shoes. Se-nreelil hnei
fb< ii arm if" I tin i r mist n ss, irlo n o loud knock on the door is hi n i d.
Ilagar and Chrysanthemum rush irilh frantic haste to arrange
the room and lot/ Tina's old driss oieoii in the bureau. Tins,
thimjs done, thei/ throw open lln door.
THIRD SCENE.
Tnn PR|.:OF.T>ING, RODO.MONT, GUKBTB, AND
MADKMOIBKLI.B.
Rodomont brings in his guests to be pre-
sented to 7i»«. and the customary cere-
mony of introduction is gone through
with. Last of nil comes Mademoiselle, who
enters the room with a haughty air.
Rodomont starts on recognizing Tier.
RODOMONT. You here?
MADEMOISELLE. And pray why not?
Introduce me, if you please, to your future
bride
[Rodomonl complies, and the introduction
is p,r f'n-m"/ n-ilb i/ nat stateliinxs, the
fieo ladies roitrtesiiing profoundly to no-//
* other.
TINA. Mademoiselle, I make you wel-
come.
MADEMOISELLE. I thank you. And I,
in order to exhibit my esteem for you,
have brought you a little gift.
FLORIAN-S DISCOVERY.
DECEMBER 11, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
101
ARRIVAL OF THE GERMANS.
[She shotcs bit signs llml tin r, is
Something n-it/nml n-lin-h she ,li -
signs for Tina. She claps her
hands am/ /he dour swings open,
allowing the gigantic footnmn
to enter, llnrmr' under his arm
he carries a white sheep, tin ,m-
blem of Tina's pneinns ein/i/nl/-
rm nt as a sheep-girl. Tlie foot-
man advances with pompous
steps, and brings his burden In
Tina s riry feet, where he depos-
its it. Then he makes a pro-
found bin,- ami nmrehes out
again.
TINA. My sheep!
[ ,^he staggers back, half faintimf.
ALL. Her sheep?
[They express enrinsitu, concern,
and astonishment bit their rm-i-
ous attitudes.
MADEMOISELLE. She was a
sheep-girl!
| She /minis dramatically at Tina.
ii-ho i ones Inr faee n-ith her
hands, and turns await in dis-
/ n ^'
ALL. Aliominable!
[Ktliibitinfi marks of aversion and severe disappointment, then make
formal reren m-e.s. and one elfter anol/nr lake t/nir siei r,ii leaves.
MADEMOISELLE. I am revenged!
[She departs last of a/1. leni-imi
Rodomont. Tina, ami ih, si,,,/,
aloin together, T/n t/i-n maids
hat'e disa/i/ii neid snn/e time sinei .
FOURTH SCENE.
RODOMONT, TINA.
TINA (to Captain Rodomonl).
Leave me!
RODOMONT. Never!
TINA I am unworthy of you.
[She demonstrates this Inj /minting
at the shee/i ami then at hil'se/f,
and shaking her hmd .sadly.
RODOMONT (nobly). Trust in me!
(He strikes his jacket with one hand eind
with the other points upward.) But
now. without more delay, our mar-
riage, (l/e points to the dnnr, ami indie, it, s that he
with a person lefm shall n-ear ei shore/ - hat and a long gown, and
shall extend his hands in, blessing. He also imitalis the process of placing
the ring upon Tina's .tingcr. I Adieu. Wait for me here.
[He signs that she is to remain n-ln n she is and irai/ fur him, and
hastens eiiray to fulfil his /tromise.
FIFTH SCENE.
TlNA, ALONK; AFTERU'ARIIS Fl.oKIAN, IJISGUISBP.
TlNA. How noble lie is! (She raises her eyes and elas/is her hands:
then. drOjtS her eyes m/ain . ami /its her hamls fall, still e/as/i,d, In fnr, In r \
But what shall I do? (N/ic starts, jmssis In r hand to her f on head, ami
looks ii'ildly about Inr.) That sheep! (She points to it.) What an
insult! (She clinches her hand. ,lrnn-s Inr lir,aih l,,fir-,, n her teeth, and
seems overwhelmed by the treatannl sin has ri,;ie,,l .) Yet shall I lose
heart ? (Site collects herself.) Never! Why should I despair?
(She shoics n-m in, I animation ) All this magniticence (she surveys the
room and its furniture, ami leures her hand to taki it all in) is for me!
(.S'/IF tups her breast proudly. } How happy I should be! (Sin- makes
a little gesture n-ith Inr
right hand.) Audi am.
Sfte smiles (gayly.) At
last I possess tlie
luxury and ease for
which I longed. (She
li'il/ks 11(1 ami down,
In r /mml on her hi/>. hi r
In, nl thronm baek, ami a
Cml smile ei/re/ng her
.) And as for
Mademoiselle, let her
envy me. I do not
fear her scorn, peasant
though 1 am. (ri/te
proves the truth of these
s/iiritid i; marks by
snnrnim/ ifn ,1/ni/l lei/ll
Inr font and assnmiinf a
RODOMONT-S GRATITUDE. dcjiuilt altitude. As she
TINA IS DRESSED.
\
,ln, s so /lie dnnr ,:/„ ns
etnel Florian "/'/" 'f>'^-
still wearing the
linnj rnnf ,:{' n {,',,-
man tin soldier.
Tina hiars /he door
open, and tarnimj.
sees this I, i rible ap-
parilion.) Ah!
FLORIAN (coming
ilnn -a ii-if/i measured
and threatening step).
So, madam, I find
you alone.
[He points his fln-
il, r at In r. anil
fin n emssing his
arms, stands be-
fore her, mute
and terrible.
TlNA (in great alarm). What do you wish?
FLORIAN (with an-fn/ im/ilmsis). Listen! You east down to earth
an entire rank of my soldiers (In imitalis tin- action by n-hie/i Tina ac-
complished //us tn, irtml feat), who lie still where they fell, dead as
door-matS. ( \Vith histtco hands In nnasuris nut tin li ngth of It fallen
so/diir, ami n/u-als the action sen-nil linns In demonstrate how his unfor-
tunate comrades lay one on top of the other. Tin n In continues, aside.)
Which doesn't worry me a little bit. (lie winks orer his slnmlihr at
the audience, and shrugs his shoulders. Then to Tina.) I have come
for revenge.
[lie calehes hold of her hamls, and
rnelkfS as if tn ilnni Inr ail-ail n-ilh
III III.
TINA. Never!
[Kin struggle*, one up, one down, and
final/I/ flings him off. Then s/ie
is about to rush for the door, when
he stn/is her.
FLORIAN (laughing). Tina, do you
not know me?
[lie tiars off his cap and inastaehios
and Hi rows open his overcoat.
TINA. Florian!
FI.ORIAN. Yes, Florian.
[His demeanor l»,-nn«s grave,and he
looks re/n-nn, I, /'</// "/ her.
TINA. You must go; you are in
danger.
[She iustinefieely urges him to flee,
ami /mints in tin door.
FLOKI.VN (shrugging his slnmldi rs). Let me take care of that.
( With lofty sailm-ss.) What are you doing here. Tina, in that dress '!
TlSfi. (endeavoring to seem unconcerned). That is my affair. (She
waves her hand airily.) All this is soon to be mine.
[She points here and tin re, and then taps Inr breast significantly.
FLORIAN. You are going to marry Rodomont?
[ With rapid touches he designs Rodomont's cn/i. his mnstaehios, and
his sword: ami thin makes a motion of putting on a ring.
TlNA (trying to avoid fiis eye). Yes.
FLORIAN (indignantly). Because he has money?
[He puts his hand into his pocket, and counts out imaginary coin.
TlNA. Yes. [She hangs her head.
FLORIAN. Good by, Tina. [He goes toward the door.
TINA. Florian!
FLORIAN. I cannot slay. Good-by.
TINA (besiichiiiglyt. Florian! (She 'lays bold of I, is m-, renal and drags
him buck.) Let us be
friends. Forgive me.
[S/n Innks n/ipealing-
ly into his face.
FLOKIAN. Impos-
sible.
TlNA (she Inns, ns In r
hold of his overcoat, '/n
III It' f In />/,,!,/ il'if/i
him). All. Florian —
I was so hungry — so
cold — so unhappy
(bit appropriate gistie-
ii/.ilinns she reminds
him lion- serious a mat-
/, r it teas') — and so
poor. See! (.S/n runs
to tin line, an ilraieer,
/mils nut In r old dnss.
and hn/ds if n/i i,,s,,l,
the l/nniniti' ' ill enst inn,
she mm- wears. } Can
you blame me,1 «IIM IMVORTIIY 01
PRESENTS HAGAR AND CHRYSANTHI MIM.
n-ill r,t><> n
102
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
MUSIC FOR THE PANTOMIME.
* Entrance of Florlan.
[. -
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& ~* - .« *ts= — i
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No- 3-,^ Jtoaerale
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TTP
UEl/K.MBEU 11, 1S9-1.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
103
ff Defeat or tlio tin aoMiers' also for Curtain.
• - - • - 1 -
re Toilet of Tina
1 &-;
fe£, i . f fr-ir f f ir f i_j f f it f f if f f rf-* ^ if' r rnfir •
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Entrance of Rodomont ami. Catastrophe. Slower
ff Happy C
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME xvr.
FLORIAN (»<«////). No.
[He /MXXIX /i i a /nun/ nrmsx his ''/ex, wavea K farewell to her, and
/nettx I" '/<>.
TVHA. (in agitation). .Musi you Mill go? (She again detains him.)
Can von notstay hen- with in.-'.' (£/« drops her dress, and running
! leM II" table, and «/, s Florian //»(' '/«•<•<' »•'» '"
his plact /'i eat and drink. Next, hastening to th, divan, sfu i
herself out for. a moment as if in slumber, and then, rising, apprises
Klorian t /„',/ hen wi ' In his bed i \Yc will lodge you, and you shall
In- mil- brother. I'li-asc. Fluriiin.
TINA (ilisii-neteilli/). Oh, bow can I let you go?
[She nini-ix " dramatic gesture.
FLORIAN (returning). Do not let mi- go. ( HV/A ». t>i</w:»ix sweep
„/•//« arm /.' &ras/«ss <'"''«// <i/Y ,*,-/,/<•/<•.•>• /» M<-/V reunion.) Come with
mi- (//f </--.<.vs '"'• *?'""• «'•»'-) Off with this finery, and don
your old brown dress again. (II,- nnik,s UK if f» l«,r the fin new
dress from her shoulders, and catJiinff up thi old dress, thrusts it into her
oiW) And then we will lly far from here, back to the dear old.
I a nn [ffi • pfiintx energetically toward the door.
Tina, caught by his enthusiasm, hesitates, almost ready to give
FLORIAN DISCLOSES HIMSELF.
up all and tly with him. Then, just at this exciting moment,
the door is thing open, and Rodomont appears. Behind him is
seen a large company.
sl\TII Sl'KXE.
Tare PRF.OKDINO, KOMOMONT, M \i>i \i"i>i I.T.I:. II \<;\r. AM> < 'mnsANTin .Mr.M. AM>
GUKSTS, IM'l I 1.1 .,. \ I 'I.KI'.GV.MAN.
RODOMONT. Treachery !
[If, ilntii's his sword am] rnx/n-x at Floriau.
TINA. Spare him!
[S/ie Ilii-iiirs nsi.l, /If liri'ii'ii i In xx, nml flimjx hers: If iii front o/Flo-
rian; ntnl Rodomont making a fierce Imn/e a/ llmt m-i/ mo-
ment, t/l' <''•>/>/ Xll-ni'll ,,,('!•* ]n I' *"h , I'll'/ X/ll f'll//X, //If X'f"''/"xf
gnsh'nnf "nt nil neer tin xtin/i. tjinern/ consternation.
FI.OIUAN. Alas, they have killed her!
[/A lunik ni.'ei- /it/- in despair.
RnnoMoxH'. Good Heaven!
1 11' *lnrh l><n-L, <i<i/i>i*t nt I'-hnt />'' /i>i\ il'_ni'\ innl dropping hi* sword,
<•/.'.*/'* ^"N h'ln'i in /I,** f'lll-' /!"!'/.
TIN \. Help me.
>n< "in nrm, and.makes n ffhli ,ffu,-tt" rise.
THE TRAGEDY.
FuMtlAX. Tina ! [He lifts her tn lu-i-f,,/, /hi xmnlust still spill'my.
TINA. Good gracious! only look at me! (She daps her hand to
her side in the endeavor to stanch the flow of sum/im/. 'f/n it xlu' h, thinks
Iterof/ui-iiniiil.i.) Hagar! Ohrysanthemuin! c-ome and sew me up!
'[She lieckoim In them, ««'! indicates tlmt ///.// -//v /•< xtitrh the Raping
edges of the wo>unl l-ylln r. Tinii ,,jijn;ui,-/i to Jill this mercifnl
(onl surffieal office.
FI.OIUAN. Wail! wait!
[He holds up his ham/ to slnii I In in. n ml /Inn, dropping on his knees,
scrapes together tin x<n/',l>i*/ that Tina /ins dropped. IHxiinj, he
i/i-iii'i/,/ /niiii-s it liin-k int': i/n irninnl. Hagar nml Chrysanthe-
mum then prepare tlnir nenllex tunl perform the "jn ml inn.
\\'lnn it is nrer, Tina tries to walk.
TINA. Heavens! I am a cripple!
[In fact, s/i,- Haifa in,*! flnu-kiiigly; the s,'nl: <>n n-li'n-li die u-iis
II': l/nn leil i/il-ix li'n I/ I'nnl/i/t/ely.
FLORIAN. I will support you. [He jmxses his arm ulmni Inr.
RODOMONT (starting forward). Who are you?
FLORIAN (nlensiny Tina, lie thi-mex nf his m; i-eont). Florian.'
MADEMOISELLE (comprehending everything). Ah!
TINA (takes Florian's /nun/). And I return to him and my sheep.
[She eiitehe.i up the s/ne/i, irhieh she /iuli/x ninler her arm, <nnl x/tll
holding Florian's hum/, nnilcis n fiintt neii-inee as the curtain
fit/Is. '
CURTAIN.
TINA AND FLORIAN ARE I'MIII'.
THE children who act this little pantomime must be carefully
instructed that they are not to speak the words of their parts,
but to act them ; and during rehearsals they must be trained to
use tin- same gestures and the same number of gestures every
time. A clever elder sister or aunt will be able to show them
how to pass from one gesture to another, and how to maintain
the necessary air of attention; nor will this be difficult for chil-
dren to learn, since pantomime is a natural function, whose use
we overlook simply because we are able to speak.
As tin- mutes of pantomime communicate with each other only
bv iresturc. when two characters are in converse they must watch
each iither'.s aetions closely. A conversation is opened, as a gen-
eral rule, by clapping the hands quickly and pointing. The char-
acters in liie present pantomime being dolls, the action must be
stiff and jerky, and in general a character who is not actually in
action at the moment should remain wooden and motionless.
though observant. But of course, wherever emotions are called
forth by the events of the drama as they pass, they should be rep-
resented by sudden and spasmodic gestures.
The music is to follow the action, and the themes provided au-
to be played during the entire piece, each theme being repeated
over and over until the scenes for which it is designed are ended.
The arrangement of the themes is as follows: Theme No. 1: the
Prologue. No. 2: Scene 1. No. 8: Scenes i and :i No. 4:
Scenes 4 to 6. No. 5: Scenes 7 to 9. No. 0: Scene 1, Act II.
No. 7: Scenes 2 and 3. No. 8: Scene 4. No. 9: Scenes 5 and 6.
The signs ** indicate the themes for repetition.
While the success of the pantomime will depend largely upon
the completeness of the stage properties for the first act. these
may be made at home with a tool-box, a glue-pot, a little canvas,
paint and lumber, and the ingenuity in which no American fam-
ily is lacking.
It is indispensable that Tina's arms and legs should be covered
with linen, in imitation of a doll's. The sawdust for her wound
in Act II. may be concealed beneath the dress which she puts on
in that act. or in her sash. It should be put in a linen bag whose
mouth is confined by a strinir, which Tim must break when she
claps her hand to her wound.
A CHRISTMAS CRANK.
BY AGNES CARR SAGE.
VLBEMARLE PLACE is one of those short streets
which have seen "better days," its name being a
last remnant of decayed aristocracy, and in this it re-
sembled Mrs. Dabney Blossom, the Southern widow who
could recall halcyon days "before the war," but had
stumbled upon such exceedingly evil ones in the lodging-
house on the corner, that she was almost ashamed of the
joy that filled her being when, after months of ruinous
vacancy, her second floor front was taken in November
by a "seafaring gentleman," who, as she said, "If he
was right curisome in his ways, paid in advance, and
gave no more trouble than the black kitten Dixie."
More than "curisome," however, did Minchon, the
little maid of all work, consider the red-faced, pop-eyed
Captain. She thought him "really awful," and shook
in her rusty old shoes when he roared at her, as though
she had been mate, pilot, and crew all combined, and or-
dered her to "come and make up his bunk" as though
he was consigning her to the stake.
" Guess he is one of the ogres they used to scare the
little 'uns with up to the 'Sylum," she confided to the
small Robins on the third floor, for Minchon's world was
bounded by a Home with a capital H, and her present
abode, to which she had been brought at the age of
twelve to commence an up-and-down-stairs, running-of-
errands existence, that had now gone on for three years.
After that, then, Molly and
Dolly, the Robin, twins, who sat
many hours each day folding and
basting neckties for their mo-
ther to stitch, always tiptoed
breathlessly past the "Ogre's"
door, although Mrs. Robin laugh-
ed at their fears, and told them
" they ought not to be afraid of a
sailor, since their own dear dead
papa followed the water."
The neighbors, too, soon came
to know the short eccentric figure
as it rolled up and down the little
thoroughfare, and tapped their
foreheads significantly when he
shook his stick at the children,
muttering "Get out of my way,
you saucy young dolphins," and
then, perhaps, flung them, a pen-
ny or a sugar-plum to make up :
while the barber across the street
dubbed him the "Crank," by
which name he was erelong call-
ed throughout the length and
breadth of Albemarle Place.
One morning, then, poor Min-
chon nearly dropped a heavy
scuttle of coal and tumbled after
it herself when, just as she was
staggering up stairs, the front door
flew open with a bang, and in
bounced the dreaded Captain.
She attempted to hurry; but he
saw her, and shouted in stentorian
tones: "Bless my tops'l ! What
does a small craft like you mean
by straining your seams in that
fashion? Here, hand over that
cargo instanter !" And before she
could remonstrate, he had seized
the scuttle, and was off to the
third story back, where he filled
Miss Tuffet's grate so full that
the economical soul of the little
music-teacher — who gave lessons for twenty-five cents an
hour — quailed with horror.
" Well, I never! Mebbe, now, the man's bark is worse
than his bite !" soliloquized the dazed girl on the stairs;
while early in December another incident occurred which
confirmed this idea, and caused a complete revulsion in
her feelings.
It was a gray lowering afternoon that she received
permission to spend an hour with her special friend on
the block, Gretchen Miiller, a young woman much older
than herself, but the fairest, sweetest German mailcin'ii
who ever lost her heart to a barber, and this Gretchen
had done to the little hair-cutter over the way, who was
saving all his dimes and quarters in order that they
might marry and go to housekeeping in the tiny rooms
over the shop.
Quite gayly, then, Minchon stepped forth, carrying the
little cat Dixie cuddled up in her arms, but had scarcely
passed bej'ond the gate, when —
"Minuliim, Miiifhon, scrawny leg!
A yellow mop on a wooden peg !"
was rudely chanted by a shrill boyish voice, and out
from behind an ash barrel sprang an ancient enemy of
hers, one Digby Smithers by name, who made a dive for
the kitten, caught it by the neck, and swung it around his
head.
THE LAUNCHING OP THE " KRISS KRINGLE."
106
HARPEK'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"Oh, you bad wicked boy, give me back my pussy!"
screamed M inclinii.
But the little rascal only danced off down the street,
still looping the miserable cat swinging and squalling
in the upper air. " Don't you wish yon could get it?" he
cried, tauntingly. " But you won't; for he's agoin' to be
sold to the Chinaman for his supper. Ah, he'll make
mince-meat of this little nigger; he'll
" Suck liis blood and pick his bones,
Ami biirv his black fur under the stones."
At this dire prophecy Minchon's wails drowned those
of poor Dixie, and she flew after Digby like a small fury,
though she eon Id never have overtaken him had not a
hand been sudd.-nly laid on the boy's shoulder, and he
brought to an abrupt halt. The 7iext thing he knew
he was forced to his knees, and a stern tone commanded:
" Heave ahoy, my hearty ! No piracy allowed here. So
jest hand back that leetle critter, and ask the young lady's
pardon for giving her such a chase."
"I sha'n't," growled the urchin, kicking and squirm-
ing, while even Minchon smiled at the idea; but the
sailor's grip on his collar was like a vise, and he was
finally obliged to obey, though sullenly enough; and the
instant he was free and at a safe distance shook his fist,
shouting, "I'll remember this, Miss 'Sylum trash, and
I'll git square some time."
" He will, too, as sure as Christmas is a-comin'," sighed
the small maid. "Though I am mighty grateful to you,
sir."
"So Christmas even comes to Albemarle Place, does
it? Hey?"
The " hey " was so gruff that Minchon jumped. "Well,
sir, not so much as it did to the Home. There we allays
had candy and a tree. Folks don't do much Santa Claus-
in' here ; but I does hope Mrs. Blossom will give me a new
pair of shoes" — and she glanced down at her old boots,
which were decidedly out at the toe and down at the
heel.
"Little one," said the Captain, presently, "you re-
mind me of another yellow-haired wench, whom I once
loved and' lost. She sailed away to a better port than
this many a long year ago. I'm a clumsy old fellow,
without kith or kin this side of the grave, but it would
make me happier than you can think if you could some-
times find time to pay me a bit of a visit and play with
the locker full of shells just as Daisy used to do. They
are pretty shells from all over the world. You wouldn't
care to come up to my galley and have a squint at 'em
now, would you?"
And will you believe it, his tone wTas so sad and wist-
ful that, forgetting all her fears, Minchon actually slipped
her hand into that of the Ogre, and hopped up stairs
two steps at a time. While there she passed a truly de-
lightful hour, examining such ocean treasures as she had
never even dreamed of, and chattering away like a talk-
ative young magpie; while, when she was summoned
below, Captain Lofty knew all about Miss Tuffet, who
was trying to buy a piano on the installment plan; and
about Adolph Frank, the barber, and his lovely flam-re.
who cried so much because times were hard and the
wedding-day appeared very far off. He had also learned
more regarding naughty Digby Smithers, who, it seems,
had his trial in a terribly harsh cruel parent sadly ad-
dicted to the dram-shop; was acquainted with the diffi-
culty the Widow Blossom had to make both ends meet;
and had listened to the history of the poor little Robins
on the top Hour, whose father sailed away one day in a
" white-winged vessel," and must have gone down in her,
for neither ever returned.
"Do you happen to know the Christian name of that
sea Robin afore he took up his quarters in Davy Jones's
locker?" the Captain once removed his pipe to inquire.
Oh. yes, the chatterbox knew that, she had heard the sad-
eyed necktie-maker say it a dozen times—1' Thomas Cof-
fin Robin from Nantucket, second mate of the tramp ship
( 'ri'xcrnt.'"
" Um-m-m !"
The old salt said no more; but that night he squeezed
himself into his peajacket and made his way down to
the wharves, where he interviewed a former comrade
there "stranded high and dry" in an obscure little hos-
pital much frequented by disabled seamen; though what
he discovered did not immediately transpire.
To the amusement of the household, however, Min-
chon and her Ogre now struck up a wondrous friendship,
and Mrs. Blossom declared "they held as many myste-
rious conferences as though plotting a conspiracy."
Mi-anwhile Christmas drew on apace, and it wanted
but. two days of the Feast of the Star when Molly and
Dolly Robin, having been to deliver a box of completed
ties, paused in childish rapture before the window of a
fascinating toy store, where was displayed a bevy of
porcelain and waxen beauties arrayed in such gay attire
as Joseph's coat could scarce have rivalled.
But. it was upon a cherubic white-robed baby doll that
wee Dolly fixed her eyes. "Oh, isn't she sweet — isn't
she a darling!" she exclaimed. " And I choose that one;
I choose the dear wax baby to be mine."
" But how can you," protested her more practical sis-
ter, " when you haven't but three cents in the world,
and that would cost more'n a hundred?"
"Well, I can make believe, can't I?" said Dolly.
" That's cheap, and is all the fun there is. Do, Moll, let
us pretend that Santa Claus was coming to 70 Albemarle
Place, and had asked us to pick out our gifts. Now, what
will you take?"- — with the air of a Lady Bountiful.
" Well, I think I'd like the young lady in pink,"
laughed Molly, "and the work-box with the cunning
scissors and thimble."
" Then I'll have the rocking-chair and a cornucopia of
candy, for my sweet tooth is just aching for a caramel."
And so the poor little souls went on selecting this and
that as though they were blessed with the purse of For-
tunatus, as they certainly were with the divine gift of
imagination. So absorbed were they that neither ob-
served a familiar uncouth figure hovering near, though,
later, as they turned into Albemarle Place. Molly pointed
out Captain Lofty disappearing in the barber shop oppo-
site and snickered, "Look, Dolly, the Ogre is going for
a Christmas shave."
She was right; and an hour after, a wildly excited
tonsorial artist burst into Gretchen Miiller's tidy little
room, and catching her around the waist, went whirling
in a gay mad waltz across the floor.
"Ach, my Adolph, what has happened to thee?1' cried
the startled girl. "Ish it that vour senses you have
lost?"
"No, no, sweetheart; not unless one can have glad-
ness on the bi-ain! But behold that," holding out, as he
spoke, two large shining bits of gold.
" Fort-y dol-lars!" gasped Gretchen, amazed. "From
whence did it come?"
" As I live, from that jolly old ' Crank ' over the way,
and I wish there were more such cranks to turn this
tough world upside down with joy. But listen. About
dusk into the shop came Mrs. Blossom's queer lodger.
' Here, you whipper-snapper of a chin-cutter,' he shouted.
'off with these hairs and let me see if you understand
your trade.' This riled me, but I kept my temper and
shaved him as clean as a billiard-ball. He was a restless
customer and found a deal of fault, while when I was
done he growled, ' There's your damages,' and hurried
off as fast as his rheumatism would permit. I was wip-
ing my razor, and did not look at the money for a
minute. When I did, there were these gold beauties in-
stead of the usual small change."
DECEMBER 11, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
107
" Oh, but, Adolph, it must have been a mistake," said
Gretchen, reproacli fully.
"So I thought, and started after the old codger with-
out waiting to take off my apron. 'Excuse me, sir. but
I fear you have made one big blunder, 'said I, laying hold
of his coat tails — at which he turned upon me like a red
and angry lobster. ' Ecod and little fishes,' he roared.
'Don't you think Epaphroditus Lofty knows his own
business better than a land-lubber of a barber? Is there
any law agin paying forty dollars for a Christmas
shave? If there isn't, puj. the money in your pocket and
hold your tongue, else you will get no more of my cus-
tom ' — with which he thumped into the house, leaving
me pinching myself to see if it could be a dream."
" But it wasn't," cried Gretchen, " for here is the good
solid gold. Ah, bless that so kind old Christinas Crank!"
In the mean time the eccentric seaman had been met
by Minchon, flushed with 'weeping and bristling with
anger. "That hateful Digby has been getting 'square'
at last." she sobbed. "He knocked me down, wrenched
my arm, and stole all the nice sweeties you sent me to
buy. Every single sugar-plum and lollipop is gone."
"Pshaw, now, you don't say so?" — and the Captain
fairly turned purple in wrathful sympathy. " But don't
cry. little mate; I'll settle with that young scoundrel.
He deserves the cat-o'-nine-tails; but seeing it's Christmas-
tide, suppose we try the effect of a few ' coals of fire ' on
his rascally head instead."
"Oh, yes, yes; and scorch him well," snapped the girl,
taking her friend literally, and she revelled in the sweets
of revenge like a veritable little heathen, as she watched
him striding down the street in quest of the miscreant
Master Sniithers.
The following morning each inmate of the lodging-
house found on his or her door a small missive, which
ran thus:
" Captain Epaphroditus Lofty presents his compliments
and requests your presence at the launching of the Kriss
Kringle on Christmas Eve at eight o'clock.
" 70 Albemarle Place. Second floor front."
Promptly, then, at the appointed hour a procession of
curious folk appeared in the upper hall headed by Mrs.
Dabney Blossom, truly resplendent in carefully pre-
served relics of ante-bellum finery. The door of the
front room flew open, and there was the first surprise in
Minchon, looking almost pretty in a scarlet frock, and
trim and trig as a little yacht, from her neatly braided
hair to her new and shining shoes. Her bright counte-
nance fell, however, when she beheld Digby Sniithers,
sidling in behind the first-floor lodgers, unusually clean
of face, and unusually redolent of brown soap and diffi-
dence. But the bowing, beaming Captain welcomed him
as cordially as he did the rest, and then a chorus of ad-
miring exclamations burst forth as all eyes rested on a
table garlanded with evergreens upon which stood the
perfect model of a miniature ship. And such a ship, with
snowy sails and silken ropes, and hung from stem to
stern with glittering balls and streamers gay ! Lighted
tapers twinkled merrily from every mast and point, and
a rich cargo of fruits and sweetmeats, toys and trinkets,
was heaped upon the deck; while, wonder of wonders —
to the girl twins— the Kriss Kringle carried as passen-
gers a porcelain lady dressed in pink and a baby doll in
cap and gown. Erelong every one had received some-
thing from the Christmas ship.
Winsome Dolly was the picture of bliss with the baby
doll filling her arms and caramels her rosy mouth ; Molly
was gloating over her work-box ; and even Dixie, adorned
with a yellow ribbon, was happily lapping cream from a
quaint Japanese dish, when suddenly in walked the little
barber with the blushing Gretchen on his arm.
" Fraulein Miiller, I believe," said the Captain, coming
forward, politely.
"No, sir," spoke up Adolph; "it is not Fraulein Miil-
ler; this is Frau Frank, whom I have brought straight
from the church to thank our so great benefactor." At
which announcement Minchon flew to embrace the bride,
the modest tar crimsoned to his eyebrows, and Mrs. Blos-
som, to cover her confusion, cried:
" If that be the case, run up, Miss Tuffet, and play us
the Wedding March."
Willingly the tiny woman obeyed, while most of the
party trooped after, and gathering around the musical
instrument, joined their voices in the carols with which
she followed up the processional.
The good genius of the feast roared with the rest, re-
gardless of time or tune, when Digby, who had remained
below holding a shame-faced jubilate by himself over a
long -coveted pair of skates, appeared and whispered,
"Say, Cap, there's a peaked-lookin' chap askin' for you
at the front door."
" It must be that delayed Christmas gift." And away
the Captain scurried, while presently Mrs. Robin also
was summoned down stairs.
" I wonder what for?" thought inquisitive Moll}', and
slyly stole after, to be almost paralyzed with astonish-
ment at seeing her gentle timid mother sobbing hysteri-
cally on the shoulder of an utter stranger with a long
brown beard and such a white, white face. " Who in
the world can it be?"
Suddenly, however, the newcomer asked, in a choked
voice, "And the twin birdlings, Mary, are they still
alive and well?" To which Mrs. Robin responded, "Yes,
yes; thank God !"
For, as you have doubtless imagined, the mysterious
individual was none other than Tom Robin, of Nantucket,
given back, as it were, from a watery grave, and with a
harrowing tale of shipwreck, wearisome months in a
foreign hospital, and a final return, only to find the
home-nest where he had left his little brood deserted,
and all the Robins flown he knew not whither. "Which
was such a shock," he concluded, "that the brain-fever
came back, and I long hovered 'twixt life and death. I
never dreamed of you being in this big city, until my old
mate Lofty ferreted me out."
"We'll soon nurse yon back to health and strength
now," said his wife, with a contented smile. And Dolly
cried, "So mamma got a Christmas doll, too; and the
biggest of the three."
All then voted the launching of the Kriss Kringle "a
glorious success," while Mrs. Blossom invited the com-
pany to share her turkey and plum-pudding the next day.
"It will be a farewell dinner," she announced, "as we
must part at the new year. Captain Lofty intends adopt-
ing Minchon to fill the place of a little lost daughter, and
has asked me to keep house for them at Sandy Roost."
" Which," added the old seaman, " is a tidy spot down
on the coast, where I hope to weigh anchor within sight
and smell of salt water for the rest of my days."
"Goin' to make a lady of yer, is he?" asked Digby,
grinning at the girl, who replied, "I don't know; but he
says he will make me a first-rate sailor."
"Now, ain't he a dandy old Crank! For he's prom-
ised, too, to look out for a berth for uie on a good ship."
Then, swallowing a lump in his throat, the boy stam-
mered, "See here, Min, I'm dreadful sorry for being so
mean to you and Dixie, and I wouldn't be such a bad
fellow if I'd ever had a chance. Can't we be friends?'
Which showed the "coals of tire" had not been
wasted, while, as Minchon clasped the rough red hand
of her quondam enemy, the last taper on the little festal
bark flickered and went out, and the chimes in a neigh-
boring steeple rang forth the angels' song —
"Peace on earth, good-will to men."
108
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
TIIK LARGEST MAGNET IN THE
WOKLD.
I)OTENTIALITY. That is a big-sound-
ing- six syllabled word. It. means that
within something all possibilities are in-
dud. -d. We ought to be cautious about
speculating too far into the potentiality
nl' anything. Your fancy might be like
a horse. You may not throw the reins
over liis neck, because he might run away
and pitch you off. Nevertheless, it is not
unwise under certain precautions to let
your imagination take the bit at times.
Great men in studying science form
what are known as theories, and they do
not theorize with their hands, but with
their brains. When Michael Faraday in
is." I took a piece of iron and wound a
copper wire about it, and passed an electric
current through the wire, he made his
iron magnetic. When he saw the re-
sult of his wonderful experiment, did he
allow himself to be carried away by the
potentialities? Could he fancy the thou-
sands of uses which would find applica-
tions by this change of force, electricity
producing magnetism? Could he presage the electric
telegraph, electric lighting, the electric motor? You
may go daft over your potentialities, and yet results may
conn; about in future years far more extraordinary than
your wildest imaginings.
Orientals have plenty of fancy. There was Moham-
med's colfin, which they said hung in mid-air, poised be-
tween two magnets. In the Arabian Niglits there is the
story of a ship approaching a loadstone mountain, and
all her spikes drawn out of her timbers, so that the craft
foundered.
When I used to play with a little hollow metal duck
in a basin of water, drawing the duck where I pleased by
means of a bit of magnetic iron (always painted red), I
had no idea about magnetic potentialities.
I am going to be very wild indeed. I fancy I see a
squadron of mounted cuirassiers with their steel corselets.
Their horses, on the full gallop, are charging a fort.
Now for mounted men to charge a fort is a very silly
THEN HE COVERED HIS CREST WITH IRON SPIKES LIKE A PORCUPINE
HOLDING UP FIVE 325-POUND CANNON BALLS.
thing. They are not riding at the fort of their own free-
will, but because they cannot help themselves, for they
are tugging at their horses' bits as hard as they can.
This, however, is the exact situation: Inside of that fort
is a great magician. He has the most powerful of dyna-
mos ever built, and he is creating a tremendous and irre-
sistible magnetic force. It is the iron horseshoes which
are dragging on the animals, as are the steel corselets the
cavalrymen. The magician just bags the whole squad-
ron, barring those few horses -whose shoes have been
torn off or those cavalrymen who have had their cui-
rasses stripped off their backs. It is only the repetition
of my little toy cluck, but the magnet has been intensi-
fied many hundreds of thousands of millions of times.,
This is an absurd magnetic potentiality, of course.
What, however, I want to write about is that I saw at
Willetts Point the biggest magnet ever yet set to work.
Willetts Point is a government station commanded by
Lieutenant-Colonel R. W. King, and here it is that en-
gineering officers of the United States
Army get their polishing off. Electricity
has so much to do to-day with the protection
of land approaches by means of torpedoes,
and an enemy's ships are to be blown to
atoms by the help of submarine boats, that
electricity may be said to be always on tap
at Willetts Point,
Colonel King having, handy a large can-
non weighing 50, 000 pounds, and a quantity
of old torpedo wire, took fourteen miles of
the wire, coiled it around one of his guns,
and passed electricity through the wire by
means of a powerful dynamo. At once an
immense magnetic force was developed.
Here is a picture of the cannon, which has
hanging to it five 325-pound shells. You
may have seen a little horseshoe magnet,
and how several steel pens may be made to
hang from it. This big magnet does the
same thing with the five cannon balls. You
can understand how powerful is this mag-
netic force when you consider how slight is
the point of contact when two spheres touch.
The five shells represent a down-pull of 1625
pounds. They are hanging together, one
over the other, by an area of surface which
DECEMBER 11, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
109
can be, theoretically, but a point. At first, for conven-
ience' sake, in lifting heavy weights an iron pulley with
a quarter inch chain was used, but when the gun was
magnetic the chain and pulley were of no use. The
chain became as rigid as if it had been a bar of solid steel
and riveted to the gun.
I saw a man stand at a distance of some three feet
from the gun, and putting an iron spike against his
breast, the spike would stand out straight, as if he were a
magnet. Then he covered his chest with iron spikes like
a porcupine.
A heavy piece of railroad iron, weighing fully fifty
pounds, when pushed into the muzzle of the cannon,
was shoved out a certain distance and then drawn back
by the magnetic force. The soldiers who work the
magnet derive some amusement from the gun. When
they see a green man, they say to him, " Billy, just hand
us that crowbar leaning against the gun." Billy, anx-
ious to help, tries to take the crowbar, and finds that he
cannot budge it, pull, haul, or strain all he may. It re-
quires the efforts of two men, with a sudden jerk, to pull
away from the gun an iron bar weighing about twenty-
five pounds.
This gun was mounted on a great iron carriage fully
twenty feet long. The whole carriage was magnetic.
Big nails would stick to it anywhere. I made long pen-
dants of nails. It was curious to see railroad spikes lift
themselves up on a wooden platform, as if they were live
things making ready to spring at the gun.
THE LITTLE RED BOOK.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELANO.
CHAPTER II.
T1HOUGH Madge and Bertha had decided that they
would not tell Eleanor of the discovery they had
made, the possession of such a secret made them con-
scious of a feeling of power over Eleanor which could
be made known to her the moment they felt so inclined.
Of course they would
never tell. Oh no. But
yet if they did tell, what
would Eleanor say?
"Just think!" they
would whisper to each
other. ' ' We know more
about her than she does
herself!"
Madge wished very
much that she could
speak of it to her moth-
er and sister, but that
would be to confess that
they had read the diary,
of which she was secret-
ly very much ashamed.
Bertha had no such
scruples, but there was
no one in whom she
wished to confide. The
fact that she and Madge
Barnes were intimate
and shared such a huge
secret was enough for
her.
The next day was
Sunday. The three girls
were in the same Sun-
day-school class, which
was taught by Mrs.
Rogers. It happened that the subject of honor came into
the lesson, and Mrs. Rogers spoke at some length about it.
Ma dire had left her usual seat, and sat next to Bertha.
She wished Eleanor to understand that she was not for-
given for having left them yesterday afternoon. Bi-rtha
fastened her eyes boldly on Mrs. Rogers's face, and lis-
tened to all that she said with exaggerated attention.
" It is not right to deceive in any way, Mrs. Rogers, is
it?" she asked.
"Certainly not, Bertha."
" You ought always to tell the truth right out. no mat-
ter how much you hurt people's feelings, or anything
else?"
"You should always speak the truth if you speak at
all. Sometimes it is unnecessary to say anything. If
you know something about your neighbor that would do
110 good to any one else to have known, but, on the con-
trary, might do harm, there is no reason why you should
tell it, even though it may be the truth."
" But is it right to pretend to be what you are not?"
"Most emphatically no. That is to be a hypocrite, a
most detestable character."
The lesson continued, and under cover of it Bertha
whispered to Madge, "She is a hypocrite herself, then,
for she is pretending that Eleanor is her own child when
she isn't."
" Oh, hush !" said Madge, hastily. " I am afraid some
one will hear you."
" Well, I like people to practise what they preach,"
murmured Bertha, "and I believe Eleanor has told her
mother about the diary and our reading it, and that is
the reason she began to talk about honor."
"I don't believe so, Bertha. I'm awfully mad at
Eleanor because she went home, but she promised not to
tell, and she always keeps her word. But you said you
didn't think it was dishonorable to read the diary."
" I don't, as long as Mrs. Brewster was so careless as to
lose it. I think we had a perfect right to read it."
Madge made no answer. She did not agree with Ber-
tha, but Mrs. Rogers was looking at them, so she could
say no more.
Mrs. Rogers had noticed that some trouble had occurred
'IT'S ONLY A JOKE," SHE ASSURED KATY.
110
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
among the children, and she questioned Eleanor as to the
cause when they were walking home after morning ser-
vice.
"Oh, it is nothing much!" said Eleanor, bravely,
though she really felt very sore aboui it. "The girls
were going to do something yesterday that I didn't like,
and so I came home, and no-.v they are mad."
•• What were they going to do, dear?" asked Mrs.
Rogers.
"Mamma dear, I can't tell you, for I promised ]
•wouldn't tell before I knew what it was. You don't
mind, do you? For I would tell you if I could. Indeed,
I'd give anything to tell you."
" No, dear. I don't mind, for I know you would if you
could; but it is better to be careful about making prom-
ises."
At school the next day Bertha-and Madge were insep-
arable. To be sure, Madge's desk was next to Eleanor's,
but no communications were passed between the girls, no
little scraps of notes were written, and during recess Ber-
tha and Madge walked about with their arms about one
another's waists, or stood in retired corners laughing over
their great secret.
"We'll call it ' O. A.', for Orphan Asylum, shall we?"
asked Bertha. "Or would ' M. B. D.', Mrs, Brewster's
Diary, be better?"
" ' O. A.' would be the best," replied Madge. "She
might guess Mrs. Brewster's Diary, for she knows about
that, but she would never guess ' O. A.'"
"O. A.," therefore, was loudly mentioned whenever
Eleanor was within hearing, and although she tried her
very best not to show it, and succeeded, too, she felt very
much hurt and very unhappy to be so treated by her best
friend. In order to appear not to mind it she joined
some of the older girls, who were always nice to her, for
Eleanor was one of the most popular girls at school.
The theatricals mentioned in the last chapter were to
come off this week. They were to be at the Athenaeum,
a large building on the corner of Deane Street and Hill-
side Avenue, built to serve the purpose of town-hall,
library, and various other things. It contained a large
room, with a raised platform at one end, which could be
made into a most convenient and attractive little stage,
and here the two plays were to be given. The younger
girls and boys were to take part in Cinderella, while
some of the grown people were to act in the second play.
Ruth Barnes, Madge's sister, had undertaken to coach
the young people in their parts, and had appointed the
different characters, and this had been no easy matter.
Eleanor was to be Cinderella. She was the best act-
ress, and, therefore, she had been given the chief part.
Ruth would have liked to give the part to Madge, for her
delicate face and figure and her pretty curls would have
been admirably adapted to Cinderella; but apart from
disliking to give her sister the principal character in the
performance, Ruth felt that no one would do it as well as
Eleanor. Madge and Bertha, therefore, were to be the
Cruel Sisters, May Brewster the Fairy Godmother, and
Ned Brewster the Prince.
Eleanor was much delighted at the idea of being Cin-
derella, but the chief source of her joy lay in the fact that
she was to wear a beautiful golden wig. For one night
at least her hateful short locks would be hidden from
sight, and she would be a beautiful golden-haired princess
in awhile gauzy dress all covered with spangles, and the
most perfect little silver slippers that ever were seen.
Glass ones being impossible, Ruth Barnes had ingenious-
ly covered a pair of ordinary slippers with silver paper,
and the effect was excellent.
Bertha Weld was not at all pleased with her part of the
Cruel Sister. The only thing that reconciled her to it was
that Madge Barnes was to be the other sister. It was
Bertha's one ambition to be intimate with Madge.
She not only admired her very much and found her
entertaining, for Madge could invent the most wonderful
games that ever were played, but she longed to be on the
easy footing with the Barnes family that Eleanor Rogers
enjoyed — to be welcome at any hour of the day, to go
there to luncheon, or to stay all night; to share the deli-
cious candy that Madge could buy whenever she felt dis-
posed, she having an unlimited amount of pocket-money ;
in fact, to derive all the benefits that were possible from
an intimacy with the richest, prettiest, and one of the
most popular girls in the place.
For although Madge could be very aggravating, she
was very attractive, and, next to Eleanor, was liked best
by all the girls of Durham. The boys did not care for
her as much. They thought she " put oil airs," as they
said, and they declared that Eleanor Rogers was worth
three of Madge Barnes.
" I do think it is too bad, Madge, that you are not to be
Cinderella," said Bertha, as they walked home from school.
" You would make a sweet one; and itlis perfectly ridicu-
lous for Eleanor to have the best part. She is not nearly
as pretty as you, in the first place."
"Oh, Bertha!" murmured Madge, blushing a little at
the flattery, which was very pleasant to hear. "Eleanor
is pretty, every one thinks, and in the golden wig she will
be lovely."
" Pooh ! Fancy having to wear a wig ! I'd be ashamed
to. If my own hair wouldn't do, I wouldn't act the part."
And Bertha tossed the long thick-braid which hung
down her back.
"I think it's awfully vulgar and fast to wear false
hair," she continued. "Just what you would expect from
an orphan asylum girl."
Madge was silent for a moment. Bertha was very spite-
ful about Eleanor; but why should Madge stand up for
her when they had quarrelled? So she merely said:
"Ruth wants her to wear the wig. You know it's the
right thing to do in acting, and it's the same wig that
Ruth wore herself years ago in a play."
"Well, anyhow, I think you ought to have the part,
and I am going to do something to get it for you."
"Oh, Bertha, what are you going to do?" cried Madge,
who was longing to be Cinderella, but who for once had
not gained her o\vn way with her sister Ruth.
"Never mind. You'll see," said Bertha, giving a little
skip as she spoke. "Only be careful not to show that
you know anything about it if anything happens."
" Indeed I won't. I'd just love to be Cinderella; only
it seems a shame to take it away from Eleanor."
"And why should you deny yourself for her? She
was perfectly horrid on Satin-day."
"I know she was. And do you know, Bertha, it was
all her fault that Bridget couldn't find us when you came
to see me. We had seen you coming, and Eleanor said
to hide under the sofa. There, I didn't mean to tell you,
but I couldn't help it."
"Oh, that was it, was it?" exclaimed Bertha. An angry
light came into her eyes, and the color deepened in her
cheeks. "Very well, Miss Eleanor Rogers! You'll get
paid back for this."
"But I was almost as much to blame," said Madge, a
little frightened at the effect of her words, "because I was
willing to do it."
"That is not the same as thinking of it, and I'll never
forgive Eleanor Rogers for that. It is just what you
would expect such a person to do."
The girls parted here, and Madge went home feeling
just a little remorseful, but not wholly realizing how dis-
honorable and unfair she had been. She consoled her
conscience by thinking that as she and Eleanor were no
longer friends, and as she and Bertha were now on such
intimate terms, it was quite right to transfer all her al-
legiance to her latest ally.
DECEJIBER 11, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
ill
Bertha also went home, and after luncheon proceeded
to put her new plan into execution.
Bertha Weld had not naturally a bad disposition, but
circumstances were all against her. She was an only
child, and she had no mother. Her father was absorbed
in his business, and Bertha was left entirely to the ser-
vants, except when one of her aunts came for an occa-
sional visit. But they did not know the child well, and
did not take the trouble to try to know her better. There
was none of the intimate intercourse that is so common
between aunt and niece, and they usually went away
with the idea that Bertha was a most unattractive child,
and more spoiled than ever.
From the time that Mr. Weld had first come to Dur-
ham, about three years ago, Bertha had fastened her af-
fections upon Madge Barnes. It was the one desire of
her life to be intimate with her, instead of which Eleanor
Rogers occupied the envied position, and Bertha was taken
up and dropped as happened to suit the wilful Madge.
It was foolish and undignified for Bertha to submit to
such treatment, but she never had the strength of mind to
resist Madge's advances, and when the reverse came al-
ways attributed it to the influence of Eleanor. She knew
in her inmost heart that Eleanor was not to blame, but it
suited her convenience to think so.
And now it seemed a rare chance to step entirely into
Eleanor's place. Madge was really angry with her. Ber-
tha knew how much Madge wanted to be Cinderella. If
she, Bertha, could manage it for her, would she not thus
secure Madge's everlasting gratitude and friendship?
"It is a magnificent scheme, '' said Bertha to herself.
" Eleanor is so fearfully sensitive that it will work splen-
didly."
She went to her room, and sitting down at her desk,
with a pencil and paper, began to write. It was a long
time before she had composed a letter that seemed alto-
gether suitable. Many times she would write a sentence,
then cross it off, and try to express the same thing in an-
other way. Finally it was written to her satisfac-
tion.
" Now the thing is to get it copied," she said to herself.
"I don't want it to go in my handwriting, and I want to
be able to say that I didn't write it. For, of course, it
would be quite true to say I didn't if some one else copies
it."
Bertha's idea of truthfulness was of the letter of the
deed and not the spirit.
She went in search of Katy, the waitress, who wrote a
good hand, and who was in great demand among her
associates when they wished to correspond with their
friends.
"Katy, will you do something for me?" asked Ber-
tha.
"La, yes, Miss Bertha! What is it?" said Katy, who
was very good-natured, and who felt sorry for the lonely
•child, spoiled and disagreeable as she could sometimes be.
" I want you to write a letter for me."
"La, Miss Bertha, and you writing the beautiful hand
that you do !"
"But, Katy, this is a joke, and I don't want any one
-ever to know I had anything to do with it. You will
never tell, will you? And I'll give you something nice.
Let me see. I'll give you that pretty work-basket Aunt
Adelaide brought me the last time she was here. I never
do any work, so I don't need it."
So the bargain was struck, and Katy, in a clear round
liand, copied the following letter or notice, for it had
neither beginning nor ending:
"Do you think it is right or kind for you to keep the
part of Cinderella? Every one but you thinks you ought
to give it to Madge Barnes. You ought to insist upon
her taking it. It is the universal opinion that Madge
could do the part better than you; and she would cer-
tainly make a prettier Cinderella on account of her hair.
It is surprising that you have not found out before what
all the girls are thinking about it."
Bertha was exceedingly proud of this composition.
Those were such finely turned phrases, " Universal opin-
ion," "insist upon her taking it."
"It is only a joke," she assured Katy, who expressed
some surprise when she was told how to address it.
The note was written on plain white paper, and Ber-
tha, when she carried it to the post-office and mailed it,
felt quite confident that she would never be found out.
That the letter was untruthful never occurred to her.
She had heard one person say that Madge, with her curly
hair, would make a pretty Cinderella, and the fact that
she herself agreed with this opinion was sufficient founda-
tion for the expression, "All the girls."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
QUOITS IN WAKFAEE.
THE game of quoits is still popular among certain classes.
Few of those who play it are aware that it has a deadly use
in India. According to an English officer in that strange, rich
section of the British Empire, quoits are used as implements of
war by the Sikhs, an independent and very martial tribe iu
India. " The Sikhs," says he, " have a great variety of weapons.
I observed the musket, matchlock, sword, spears of sundry
forms, dagger, and battle-axe; hut the arm that is exclusively
peculiar to this sect is the quoit. It is made of beautiful thin
steel, sometimes inlaid with gold. In using it the warrior twirls
it swiftly round the forefinger, and launches it with such deadly
aim, as, according to their own account, to he sure of his man at
eighty paces." It appears they wear these war-quoits on their
arm like armlets, and on the top-knot (which is peculiar to the
Sikh) of the turban. The edges of the quoits are very sharp,
and sure death to all who may he hit by them.
REUNION SONG.
WE gather on this happy day
To greet each other here,
A moment pausing on our way
To lift a song of cheer.
The roll-call of tin- merry host
That owns our Table Round
Takes in the land from coast to coast
Wherever names are found.
Then hurrah, hurrah, for ninety-four!
Clasp hands and lift a shout,
For Knights and Ladies met once more
As the year is going out.
The days have flown on wings of light
Since last our Order came,
One summer noontide blithe and bright,
To answer to its name.
Now frnst and cold and snow are here,
But we are brave and gay,
And lift our song with cheer on cheer
This glad Keuuiou day.
Refrain.
Fair Order of the Table Round,
What tokens do you bring,
As loviug looks and words abound,
And joyously you sing?
Wi1 stand for good, and not for ill,
Our native land we love,
Each day with deeds of kindness fill,
And trust in God above.
Befrain.
112
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
A FOOTBALLAD.
I very littl' Tommyttwught.)
HE said when be saw the football high
Suspi-nded from a peg,
" 1 1 must have been a tough old ben
That laid that leather egg."
THE OBBERWOB.
" Wn \T do yon suppose the baby is thinking about, ?''
"Well, I judge from what he says that he's thinking about
the obberwob."
" The obberwob f "
"Yes; that's what he said a minute ago. I don t know what
an obberwob is, but I guess it's worth thinking about."
A BUTTERNUT THOUGHT.
THE butternut is oval,
And when I see it fall,
It seems the little brother
Of the big football.
.
SANTA'S MISTAKE.
WELL, here's a pretty howdy-do!
This stack is not a chitniuee —
And here I am on Christmas morn
Some twenty-seven miles at sea!
NOT A POPULAR PASTIME.
"DON'T think I'd like to be a plumber," said Wallie. "They
seein to me to sit still so miu-h, and I hate sittiu1 still. I'd
rather be a postman, and go around ringin' door-bells and
blovvin' a whistle."
FREDDIE HAS AN IDEA.
" WHAT are you going to do with that key, Freddie ?"
"I'm goiu' to try and make the baby walk with it. Seems
to me if a key is smart enough to make a doll that ain t alive
walk, it ought to be smart enough to make a live baby do it."
THE DIFFERENCE.
SMALL Thomas, had a thought last night
As he sat down to sup ;
Said be, " My pa writes stories down,
While builders put 'em up."
WHY BOBBY DIDN'T GET HIS ROCKING-HORSE.
HARPEKS
;H
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1894, by HARPKH A BROTHKHS. All Rights Re;
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 790.
MEW YORK, TUESDAY. DECEMBER 18, 1894.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
UNDER THE CASTLE'S GUNS.
BY WILLIAM D K Y S D A L E.
SINCE his adventure in Porto Rico young Dan Coffin,
of Stouington, has taken to wearing boots and a blue
cap. But six montbs ago, when he was about fourteen
and a half, be much preferred the freedom of bare feet,
and the slight protection of a battered old straw hat,
which served sometimes as a bait-box, but oftener as a
crab-basket or a receptacle for apples.
In those days, only six months ago, Dan was a fine
specimen of the typical New England boy; neither too
tall nor too short ; plump, but not fat ; brown in the face,
much browner in the hands, and a rich mahogany color
from his toes up to his knees, because his trousers were
constantly rolled up to keep them dry in the. boat.
Young Dan was not always in his boat then, but he
spent a great deal of time in it. " Cap'n Dan'l " Coffin,
Dan's father, is the chief owner and Captain of the fore-
and-aft schooner Mary D., which has a snug little carry-
ing trade between Savannah and Boston, so he is away
from home most of the time; but it often used to happen
when he did reach home, and heard his wife complain of
Dan's spending so much time on the water, that he poked
her lovingly with his big forefinger, and replied: "Let
the boy alone, mother. He's bound to make a sailor-
man, and I like to see him take to it while he's young."
Cap'n Dan'l did not think then, six months ago, that
young Dan's pluck and skill were so soon to save his
schooner for him.
Sometimes when freights are light between Savannah
114
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
and Boston the Mary D. goes further afield, and runs
down into the West Indies after a cargo of sugar. On
these occasions she generally clears for St. Kitts, carry-
ing out part of a cargo of general merchandise for sale,
and bringing back the sugar in hogsheads. When Cap'n
l»:m'l was about to start on the latest of these West Ind-
ian voyages, young Dan begged so hard to be taken along
that, his mother gave a reluctant consent, and he became
a member of the crew. But it was only as a hand before
the mast, for Cap'n Dan'l would not let him " put on any
frills," as he said, merely because he was the Captain's
son.
The first trouble in the voyage was when Cap'n Dan'l
found that there was not a hogshead of sugar in St. Kitts
for him to carry away. Two steamers had taken it all
the week before, and there was nothing for him to do but
sell his merchandise and go to some other island. There
was plenty of sugar at Porto Rico, he heard; and the
Murij D. was soon bowling over the Caribbean Sea tow-
ard San Juan, the capital of that Spanish island, a port
which Cap'n Dan'l had never visited before.
The schooner was not far off Santa Cruz when one
morning, just before daylight, there came a series of ter-
rible crashes as though the vessel's sides were being stove
in.
" We've been run down!" Dan shouted; and in a mo-
ment he and all the others who were in their berths
sprang to the deck.
But they saw that they could not have been run down,
for no other vessel was in sight, though the crashing
continued.
"It's wreckage," Cap'n Dan'l announced; and the
schooner was hove to until daylight showed them that
they had run into an acre or more of heavy mahogany
planks, probably a deck-load thrown from some vessel
in distress — clear straight-sawed mahogany planks that
Cap'n Dan'l reckoned would be worth about six dollars
apiece in Boston.
This was a great find; and the Mary D. lay to until
every plank in sight was safely piled on her deck. There
were 542 of them; and Dan was wild with delight to
think of the three thousand dollars extra profit the
schooner would make on his first voyage in her. But
those planks were very important things in Dan's life.
If it had not been for the planks the Mary D. would not
have got into trouble in Porto Rico, and Dan would not
be the hero that he is in Stonington.
"Did ever anybody see such a lot of forts! And such
solid ones!" Dan exclaimed, as the schooner rounded into
the beautiful landlocked harbor of San Juan. "That
biggest one they call the Castle, do they? The Spaniards
must consider this a very valuable place, for they guard
it well. What is that little boat that's coming out to us?"
"I don't know," Cap'n Dan'l replied, " but I can make
a pretty safe guess. I think that's the custom - house
officer; and he'll not find much when he getshere, either."
The Mary D. reached the spot marked on the chart
"anchorage for sailing vessels," about a mile across the
water from the city wharves; and her anchor had hardly
been let go before the uniformed custom - house man
climbed aboard.
Cap'n Dan'l is a careful man with his ship's papers,
and he had them in his coat pocket all ready for inspec-
tion — the official papers showing that the American
schooner Mary D., Daniel Coffin, master, had sailed from
St. Kitts for San Juan in ballast. Dan managed to be
within earshot of the inspector, for he was anxious to
learn all the forms.
"Ha! in ballaste!" he heard the inspector exclaim,
after a glance at the papers. The Spaniard had picked
up a little English from boarding English ships. " In
ballaste. But zese ! but zese !" and as he spoke he stepped
up to a pile of planks and slapped it with his hand.
"Yes," Cap'u Dan'l smilingly answered; "fine lum-
ber that; don't grow much up our way that kind o' wood.
We picked them planks up adrift about forty-five mile
sou' by west of Santa Cruz — 542 of 'em. Great streak of
luck, wa'n't it?"
" But zey are not on ze manifest," the inspector cried.
" Ze ship is cleared in ballaste, and you come into ze port
with a deck-load of lumber."
( 'ap'n Dan'l explained again that the lumber had been
picked up adrift after he left his last port, so it could
not possibly be named in the manifest; but the inspector
was working himself into such a state of excitement that
it was impossible to understand him. It was evident,
however, that he was ordering Cap'n Dan'l to go with
him at once to the custom-house, which he did, another
customs officer being called on board to guard the schooner.
Dan and the rest of the crew wondered what such a
strange performance meant, but they could learn nothing
until Cap'n Dan'l returned. An hour or more passed,
and when the Captain stepped on deck again it was plain
that something worried him. He walked rapidly up and
down the starboard side, with his hands in his pockets and
his hat pulled well down over his eyes — and the crew all
knew that when Cap'n Dan'l did that they might look
out for squalls. He kept it up so long that at length
Dan went up to him.
" What's the matter, father?" he asked. "Any trouble
on shore?"
"Trouble!" Cap'n Dan'l exclaimed, without pausing in
his walk. "Trouble! It's the worst scrape I've ever got
into, and I've seen some pretty tough ones. They're going
to take the schooner away from me; that's all."
"Take the schooner away from you!" Dan repeated.
" B.ow can they do that?"
"By their pesky Spanish laws that of course I knew
nothing about," Cap'n Dan'l replied. "And it's all
through them planks, too. It's the law here, my lad, so
they tell me, that a vessel comin' into the port must bring
just exactly what her manifest calls for; no more and no
less. If she brings more or less, she's fined two hundred
dollars. Now, our manifest calls for nothing, because
we started from St. Kills in ballast; and we're fined for
havin' this deck-load of lumber."
"Well, that's not worth worrying over," Dan inter-
rupted. "The planks are worth over three thousand
dollars ; and if the fine is only two hundred dollars, we're
still pretty well ahead."
" You don't understand the case," Cap'n Dan'l answer-
ed. "The fine is on each separate piece of cargo not on
the manifest. They count each plank a separate piece;
and as there's 542 planks, the fine is 542 times two hun-
dred dollars or $108, 400 all told— about six times the value
of the schooner and planks together. They've seized the
vessel, and they'll sell everything we have towards pay-
ing the fines."
"It can't be!" Dan declared; "there's some mistake.
No country would have such an unjust law as that."
But Cap'n Dan'l knew what had been told him in the
custom-house, and knew that his schooner had been seized.
He could think of nothing better to do than lay the case
before the American consul and ask his advice; and he
was preparing to go ashore for that purpose when the
consul came out in his own boat.
"It is a very hard case," Dan heard the consul say.
" We have such cases often, but not on such a large scale.
There is nothing that I can do except to take care of you
and your crew and send you home. I can protect you,
but I cannot keep them from selling your vessel. You
would be entirely justified in hoisting sail and running
out of the harbor, but you cannot do it; there are too
many forts and gunboats for that. In ten days they will
sell your schooner and planks."
" Ten days," Dan said to himself. "Then we have ten
DECEMBER 18, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
115
days in which to get out of the scrape. And Cap'n Dan'l's
the man will find a way out, unless I am much mistaken."
But Dan was very much mistaken, for before five days
had passed Cap'n Dan'l was in a violent fever, and was
out of his head in the cabin. The loss of his schooner
meant almost financial ruin to him ; and it was a disgrace,
he thought, for a Yankee skipper to be caught in such a
trap. Fortunately the mate had studied medicine in his
younger days, and he was able to take care of the Captain;
but he was not willing to give much hope for Cap'n
Dan'l's recovery unless he could be taken out of that hot
and unhealthy harbor.
"I think you're a little under the weather yourself,
Dan," the mate said. "You sit up there in the bow look-
ing at the scenery without saying a word to anybody.
You must know every buoy in the harbor and every
fort on shore by this time, from the way you watch
them."
" It is very handsome scenery," Dan answered; "and
the scrape we're in doesn't make me feel like talking."
For three days more matters remained in the same un-
comfortable state on the Mary D. — Cap'n Dan'l delirious
in the cabin, the custom-house man constantly 011 board,
young Dan growing nervous and impatient, and the crew
beginning to grumble. In two days more the schooner
would be taken from them and sold; and what was worse,
Cap'n Dan'l showed no signs of improvement.
Late in the afternoon of the eighth day there came in-
dications of a storm. The sky grew dark, and the wind
clouds, scurrying past the mountain peaks, showed that
a blow was coming. The approaching storm seemed to
give new life to Dan. He left his favorite perch in the
bow, and mingled cheerfully with the crew. He sniffed
the breeze, and tightened the strap around his waist, and
the old straw hat tilted a little to one side.
When the storm came in earnest, just before dark,
young Dan called the mate aside.
"Mr. Barnes," he said, "I think this storm has come
to save my father's life and release the schooner. I've
been watching for a storm}' night, and I began to think
one would never come. If you are willing we can run
the schooner out of the harbor to-night, and then let them
catch us if they can."
"I'm afraid it can't be done, Dan," the mate replied.
" Look at the forts 011 shore; and here's the custom-house
man on board; and, worst of all, there's the iron gunboat
lying at the harbor's mouth with steam always up. We're
too closely watched to escape.".
" I have everything planned," Dan persisted, "and if
you give your consent we can take the schooner out of
this harbor to-night. I have studied the place for days,
and I know the harbor as I never knew a harbor before
in my life. It was not scenery I was looking at from
the bow, but forts and buoys. Saving the schooner is a
great object, but saving father's life is a much greater."
This last argument had more effect than any other
upon the mate, and Dan unfolded the plan he had laid.
Mr. Barnes went forward and had mysterious talks with
several members of the crew, and an hour later Dan knew
what it meant when he saw two long spars hoisted out
of the hold and laid on deck, for that was part of the plan
he had proposed. A lithe young sailor was selected to
spring suddenly upon the Spanish custom-house man in
the cabin and pinion his arms behind him. That part of
the work was soon done, and the officer was left lying,
securely tied, upon the cabin floor, safe but uncomfortable.
"Now for the spars," Dan whispered. He was excited
enough by this time, but all the talking was done in low
tones. "Sink their butt ends in the mud close along-
side, and hang our harbor lights on them. Then the
Spaniards won't know we're gone."
It was a well contrived plan, for when the cables were
cut and the schooner moved away under a jib and double-
reefed mainsail, with all her other lights extinguished,
the lighted spars showed that she was apparently in her
old place.
The mate of course took the wheel, but he kept Dan
close by his side, for Dan had the buoys and lights all at
his fingers' ends. He was useful, too, to run forward
and repeat the mate's orders in a low voice.
Past the first light the schooner fled through the black-
ness and rain, guided not only by the beacon, but by the
lights of the city; then hard up and hard down, in and
out among the buoys, port and starboard, until the great
castle was off the starboard bow. Past the outer light-
house, past the powder-ship, with her red lanterns, then
abreast of the gunboat, with her fifty lights. A single
shot from the gunboat might have sent the Mary D.
to the bottom; but in that black storm the schooner
passed unseen, and in a minute more she was in the
open sea.
"If ever a lad saved a schooner, Dan, you've saved
this one," the mate said, seizing Dan's hand and squeez-
ing it. "It was all your work, for I had made up my
mind that the thing couldn't be done. And I feel safe
enough about Cap'n Dan'l now; when he finds we're at
sea and the schooner safe, he'll soon pick up."
Dan had felt as bold as a lion while the danger lasted,
but now that it was over he was all in a tremble. If
they had been discovered, he thought, they would cer-
tainly have been sunk or captured, and then what a
condition his sick father would have been in.
" I only planned it out, sir; you did all the work," he
modestly replied. And then, to escape any more compli-
ments, he went up forward among the crew and fell to
work.
"Lower away the gig," the mate soon ordered, "and
keep the schooner's nose dead north, while I look after
the Spaniard."
In a moment he emerged from the cabin with the
custom-house man, from whom he had cut the ropes.
" Now, friend, choose quick," the mate said. " There's
a boat you can row yourself ashore in if you like to take
the chance. Otherwise you're bound for Boston, as sure
as you're alive."
The man did not understand the words, but the situa-
tion was clear enough. He climbed into the boat, and
long before he could reach shore the schooner, still in to-
tal darkness, was miles away on the inky sea, safe from
pursuit.
Inside of two weeks the Mary D. ran into Boston Har-
bor, her 542 planks safe in the hold, and Cap'n Dan'l
sitting up in the cabin, weak, but recovering. The Cap-
tain's eyes grew moist when he heard the mate shout:
"Now, boys, all together, with a will. Three cheers
for home, and three more for young Dan Coffin. If it
hadn't been for him we'd not 'a' brought the schooner
back !"
FRITZ AND HIS PUZZLE.
FRITZ is a beautiful brown-eyed boy
Running over with fun and joy.
Now and then his questions bother
His beautiful, youthful brown-eyed mother.
"I wish," she said, one day last week,
"Dear Fritz, I wish you would let me speak."
But Fritz had a number of things to say,
And he prattled and rattled and lisped away
Till she said, "My boy, if it's not unkind,
Do try for a while your own business to iniud."
The brown eyes fell with a puzzled droop,
The small mouth puckered itself in a loop.
"I fink," said Fritz, in a tone resigned —
"I fink I have no business to mind!"
LIFE-BLOOD OF A GREAT CITY.
GETTING INTO AND OUT OF NEW YORK.
BY JULIAN RALPH.
BEFORE I tell how visitors come into and go out of
New York, I should make clear to the reader the size
of the majestic army of men, women, and children that
marches into the metropolis from our wharves and de-
pots every day. Nowhere that I have been able to think
of looking or inquiring can I find any records or esti-
mates that are so complete as to enable me, or any one,
to say with any positiveness just what is the extent of
our floating population. Ten years ago it had long been
the custom to say that of tourists, foreigners, shoppers,
and wage-earners, something like 250,000 souls came here
everyday. Perhaps that estimate was too high at that time ;
certainly it is too low now. We know that about 130,000
persons cross the Brooklyn Bridge every day, and that
about 100,000 railway passengers come and go over the
tracks in the Pennsylvania and Grand Central de-
pots. Cut those figures in half to represent the move-
ment one way, and we have the sum of 115,000 daily vis-
itors by those three gates alone. We know that 500,000
passengers come here each year on foreign steamers — or
1400 a day — but there are only 3000 foreign steamers as
against 1700 domestic steamers, 14,000 sailing ships, 150
steam passenger-boats, and 28 ferry lines— the last bring-
ing the wage-earners who work in New York for the sup-
port of nearly 2,000,000 persons living in the immediate
suburbs of the city. Of all who come by these routes
there is no record whatsoever, and of 23 railwavs that
empty their trade into this city, I have mentioned only
the business of those terminating at two depots — the two
very great depots.
It is a part of the hopelessness of the task for the read-
er to remember that even if we had figures to represent
the passenger traffic of all these lines of commerce, they
would be very incomplete. They would not include the
great force of men who, as officers and sailors, man the
vast navy that floats into our port from the ocean, nor
the working force on the ten times larger home flotilla
of domestic boats, which includes hundreds of fruit ships,
2000 small sailing craft, 1000 steamers and steamboats,
1000 canal-boats and lighters, most of which are manned
by non-residents, yet bring their crews here for greater
or lesser periods of time every day.
Of all who come — foreigners, American travellers,
wage -earners, merchants whose homes are in the sub-
urbs, shopping women, school children, and the rest —
my guess is that the sum reaches a mass of more than
300,000 persons daily, or more persons than live in Cin-
cinnati or San Francisco. Of all the persons we would
see if we looked down on this city from a balloon, one in
every six would be found to have his home somewhere
else. Of all who make up the daily swarm on Broad-
way and the equally dense crowds around the ladies' shop-
ping stores, one in every three would be a person from
some other city. And downtown, among the wholesale
storehouses and banks and brokers' offices and shops, I
should not wonder if every other man and woman we see
and deal with would be found to live on Long Island,
Staten Island, New Jersey, or up the Hudson.
The most interesting among the experiences of all those
who come here is that of the immigrants. They come
like cattle, herded in the holds of ships, and then penned
in a great house on Ellis Island, and separated into
groups — this group for this railroad, that group for
the other railroad — a helpless, confused huddle of for-
eigners tied to their babies and bundles, and awakening
in the minds of all kindly folks who see them a blending
of pity and amazement. The pity is for their helpless-
ness, and the amazement is as to what kind of homes they
must have left in Europe, and as to how they can have
mustered the courage to come so far into a new and strange
land.
The transatlantic ships come in, and, after the favored
cabin passengers have been landed, great barges are warped
alongside to receive the immigrants and their trunks and
bundles. By these barges they are sent to Ellis Island —
the new Castle Garden— where they are examined ac-
cording to our laws. It must be proved that they are
not helpless invalids likely to be a charge upon our peo-
ple, that they are not contract laborers hired to come here
AT THE GRAND CENTRAL STATION.
DECEMBER 18, 1S94.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
117
and work cheaper than
our own people, that they
are not paupers or beg-
gars, or wicked folk out
of foreign prisons.
While they are hud-
dled on the barges, and
again in the new Castle
Garden, the officials move
among them and look
them over, and, in time,
they are marched past the
desks of examiners who speak many languages, and ques-
tion them closely about their means and plans and past
lives. The fairest way to judge these immigrants is not
by their appearance or surroundings on the ships, but by
what the great mass of those who are already here have
done for themselves and for this country. When we
think of the States they have built up, of their ambitious
homes, of their industry and thrift, we are able to see
that the herding on the ships, is merely the last of the
life they are leaving, and that the beautiful scene that
greets them when they enter our splendid harbor is sug-
gestive of the grand and splendid opportunities that this
land of liberty spreads out before them.
As cities go, New York is an easy place to get into and
out of. It is long and narrow, and has only a few main
avenues, side by side, leading from where the ocean steam-
ers and most of the ferries come in, to the northern end,
where the island is joined to the mainland. A dozen
great avenues running lengthwise along the island, ahd
another dozen side streets leading to ferries, are all the
streets that a stranger is likely to concern himself with.
Along four of the lengthwise avenues run the lines of
the elevated steam railway, which is so built as to con-
nect with all these two dozen principal streets. It does
the greatest business of any railway in the world. It has
carried more than 800,000 passengers in a day, and an-
nually transports about 300,000.000 souls. This elevated
railway, built upon tall iron stilts in the principal streets,
in great part takes the place that is occupied by cabs in
most of the other capitals of the world. Our strangers,
who would call a cab at home and have it carry their
trunks and themselves from depot to hotel, or vice versa,
simply give their baggage to a transfer express company,
and themselves take "the elevated" or the horse-cars
that run under it on the same avenues. A great deal of
fault is found with New York because its cab service is
poor and expensive, but the reason for this is that the
city is so easy to understand and so well supplied with
street railways that only a few rich strangers and a few
rich residents— not enough, altogether, to pay for a fine
cab system — feel the want of those exclusive conveyances
without which strangers would be absolutely at sea in
London, Paris, or Berlin.
New York used to stand like a highwayman in the path
of all who tried to get past it. It stopped every one in
whose onward path it lay, as Chicago still does, and made
him change cars, and get out and pay expressage if not
hotel fare. But now the comparatively small number of
persons who are bound from the farther East to the West,
or in the opposite direction, can accomplish the journey
either by crossing the Hudson at other points, or by being
carried around the metropolis upon great floats which
convey whole trains of cars from the Westchester shore
(lying next to New England) around the island to the
Western railways that terminate on the New Jersey
shore.
In these days, too, passengers can leave Saratoga, and,
by means of the West Shore tracks on the New Jersey
side of the Hudson, can go to Long Branch or Asbury
Park without changing cars. Baggage and freight are
also carried between Philadelphia or Chicago and Boston
1 - A A fm^- " W^'-^
P- m
CROSSING THE RIVER TO OTHER RAILROADS.
and back, and between Saratoga and the South, without
change of cars; and, by means of one of the twenty-eight
ferries, the people of the West can go to Brooklyn and
Brooklyn folks can go to Chicago, San Francisco, 01* even
Asia, without setting foot on Manhattan Island. But
these exceptional routes are really irregularities.
A prime feature in the business of receiving and dis-
missing our visitors is our hotel system, which now
comprises no less than a thousand establishments.
There are scores of first-class hotels, 200 second-class
ones, and literally hundreds of resorts of lower grades.
We have no means of estimating the capacity of these
places of shelter, but they must possess accommodations
for nearly 100,000 persons. Our theatres are said to seat
70,000. For the more complete convenience of those who
stop at the best hotels stages are run to the through-line
trains, and the system of baggage transferrence that has
grown up here is managed so that one's belongings can
be relied upon to be wherever they are wanted at the time
the passenger wishes to check them upon a further jour-
ney in any direction. Just as the postal transfer wagons
take the through mails from the depots to the post-office
and thence out again to the steamships or the other rail-
way depots, so do the baggage transfer wagons deal with
the baggage.
It is indeed a wonderful sight to see the regiments and
battalions of strangers and visitors that are emptied by
boats and trains into this city early on every week-day
morning. Just as the great Brooklyn Bridge is black
with thousands in cars and on foot, the huge boats from
New England and from up the Hudson discharge their
thousands, and at the same time the principal through
trains from the East, South, and West are disgorging their
loads of humanity. The ferry-boats also, weaving to and
fro like shuttles in a loom, are emptying great black
throngs of toilers and tourists along the river front. We
might well wonder what is to become of all these extra
cityfuls, what will happen to the street-cars that they ex-
pect to take, what room can be made for all of them in
the houses and hotels; but even as we look they dis-
appear. They melt like snow that falls upon warm
ground; they dry up like mist in the sunshine; they seem
to sift among the usual crowds and disappear. Our motto
is not like that of the old 'bus drivers — "there is always
room for one more." But as we have seen on great fes-
tival days and when we have offered fetes of pageantry,
there is alwavs room for another million.
118
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG."
r,v w. j. HENDERSON.
CHAPTER XIII.
CAPTAIN LOCKWOOD'S WARM RECEPTION.
EDGE her off toward the point yonder, Peter, "said
Harold. "We must not be seen from the decks
of any of our ships.''
" Werry good, sir, but that are a course w'ich '11 keep
the tug out o' the Ai//ii<l<il></n's range."
"Never mind that. We can go ashore if we're hard
pressed."
The chase now became exciting. The tug was gaining
on the three small boats, and was firing rapidly. Shots
were falling all around the boats, but fortunately none
struck them. The course which Harold had indicated
was gradually placing a point of the island of Engeuha
between the fugitives and the rebel war-ships.
"I'm afraid you've missed it, Hal," said George.
"They're gaining on us."
At that moment the Brazilians in Frank's boat gave a
cheer, and the light cruiser Trajano was seen moving
out from her anchorage behind the point. She fired two
shots, and the government tug turned tail and puffed
away toward the city. The boys shook hands and sepa-
rated, Frank's crew pulling leisurely back to the Aquid-
aban, while the two cadets made a wide detour and ap-
proached the American fleet from another quarter.
About the same time a fat brown rooster poked his
head out of a coop on the deck of a vessel flying over
the sea toward Rio. and loosed a lusty crow.
" Cat's a "berry fine woice yo's got, chile, but yo' don't
sing no moah in dese hyah latitoods."
And Kibo, the cook, plunged his arm into the coop
and dragged the struggling, squawking victim forth.
"Hi yah! He bully fat!" exclaimed Kibo. And then
lie began to sing:
" Hoop te loo loo ! Wat's de mattah ?
Flap yo' wings an' kick yo' feet ;
Frv 'im in (It- !_'rcasr an' battali ;
Cracky! but liim good to eat!"
"Belay that jaw tackle there, you blathering heathen,
and get at your foul-smelling cookery!"
Captain Lockwood's voice scraped along the deck with
a rumble like a chain cable. His land manners had
slipped from him like an old wrapper, and he was a sturdy,
deep-chested, hump-shouldered old sea-dog, with a blazing
red face and a jolly gray eye. He balanced himself oil
his columnar legs, and from a station near the foot of the
mizzen-mast he let his gaze slowly roam over the swelling
curves of white canvas that towered away through double
tops and top gallants to the naked royal-yards. The
fresh breeze abeam was heeling the Alma down till the
water boiled and hissed around her lee channels. The
long South Atlantic surges were tossing- their hoary heads
high in air as they raced down upon the bark, and ever
and anon as she plunged down a foaming steep she
would hurl a sheet of green, water into shivers of smoky
spray across her forecastle-deck.
"Oil, she's a sweet lady to smoke through it, isn't she,
Minnie?'' said the Captain, as his daughter appeared on
deck.
"Yes, indeed, papa. What is she making?"-
"A good twelve, I'll be bound," said the skipper, tak-
ing a squint over the side.
" Twelve it is, sir, by the last heave," said the mate.
"It's simply glorious," exclaimed Minnie.
The girl looked a picture of healthy enjoyment. Her
« Begun in HARPER'S YODNO PEOPLE No. 784.
•wavy hair streamed in pretty disorder around her well-
taniied chocks. :md her eyes sparkled like stars.
"We must be raising the land pretty fast at that gait,"
said the Captain.
" Yes, sir," answered the mate. "You can see it plain
enough from the forecastle."
Land had been sighted some time before, and the hark
was ratching along with the Brazilian mountains peering
over the sea under her lee bow.
"But we'll have to clew up our top-gallants if this
breeze freshens any," said the skipper. "There's a bit
too much weight in that sea."
"Oh, I hope not!" said Minnie. "I love to see the
bark lie down to her work and toss the spray this way.
She seems to be alive."
"That's a real sailor's daughter," said the mate, laugh-
ing.
"By faith, she'd carry the masts out of a ship if she
was the captain," said her father, smiling. "Clew up,
Mr. Ball; we'll do as well under shorter canvas."
"Ay, ay, sir," said the mate, and the next minute he
was bawling orders that caused the two roaring stretches
of canvas away aloft to fold their white wings. The
bark was now on an easier keel, but she seemed to go
quite as fast ; and within three hours she had Flora
Point on her starboard bow.
"Oh, how wonderful! How glorious!" exclaimed
Minnie, as she stood, with clasped hands and parted lips,
gazing at the rich green mountain slopes.
"I knew you'd like it," said the Captain. "I'm glad
I brought you, Minnie."
"So am I," she answered.
Captain Lockwood pointed out to her the various beau-
ties of the harbor, the forts and the islands, as the bark
under shortened canvas sailed slowly past Fort Lage.
The vessel was full of the busy rattle of blocks as the
men made her ready for coming to anchor.
"Yonder lies Villegaignon Island," said the Captain.
"We'll run pretty close along there, and you'll get a
good look at the fort. Let her luff a little !"
" Luff it is, sir," answered the man at the wheel.
The bark glided under the walls of the fort, and sud-
denly a voice rang across the water,
"Keep off!"
Captain Lockwood sprang to the weather - rail and
shouted: "What's the matter? Are we doing any
harm ?"
His reply was a puff of smoke, followed by the sharp
crack of a rifle, and a bullet whistled across the deck.
" Go below, Minnie!" exclaimed the Captain, thrusting
his daughter toward the cabin-door. Then he sprang 011
the rail and bellowed. "You miserable scoundrel! I'll
make your rebel skin sweat for this!"
A derisive laugh rang out from the caissons, and an-
other shot was fired, the bullet this time cutting a small
round hole in the tack of the spanker.
"Well, this beats the Dutch!" exclaimed Captain
Lockwood, as the bark slipped out of range on her way
up the bay.
" It seems to me," said the mate, "that the rebels are
running things in a pretty high-handed style down here."
" I should say so. But you can make up }-our mind
to one thing, Mr. Ball."
"Yes, sir; what's that?"
"I'll not sit still and be shot at on my own peaceable
decks. I'll carry this business to somebody that '11 have
a word to say about it if I have to go all the way to
Washington."
" I'.iii-k ahoy!"
"Hello! What now?"
A tug manned by insurgents ran alongside, and Cap-
tain Lockwood was informed that he would have to an-
chor his vessel out in the bay and lighter his cargo ashore.
DECEMBER 18, 1894.
HARPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
119
He was told that any attempt to take his vessel to one
of the city wharfs would call forth fire from the insur-
gents.
" Well, this is about as big an outrage as I ever met
with!" stormed the Captain.
"You understand?" called the insurgent.
"Oh yes, I understand," answered Captain Lockwood.
"But I'm going to obey under protest."
The insurgent replied to the effect that he did not care
a pinch of snuff about the protest. All lie desired was
obedience.
" Well, I'm going to apply to your Admiral the first
thing to-morrow for permission to go to a wharf," shout-
ed the Captain. " I have been fired on by your people,
and that's a piece of cowardice."
The insurgent intimated that calling his friends cow-
ards did them no harm, and that Admiral da Gama would
probably decline to see the Captain of the bark Alma.
"We'll see about that to-morrow," answered the Cap-
tain. "Get away from alongside now, and give me room
to bring my bark to anchor."
With jeering laughter ringing from her decks the in-
surgent tug steamed away, and Captain Lockwood roared
in a voice of thunder:
" Ciew up the fore and main tops'ls! Haul down the
jib! Haul out the spanker! Down with your helm!"
A few minutes later the crashing rattle of the cable
passing through the hawse-hole told that the Alma had
come to anchor in six fathoms, half a mile to the north-
ward and westward of Cobras Island.
CHAPTER XIV.
MIGHT AGAINST RIGHT.
THE next morning was cloudy and sultry, and Captain
Lockwood, after a quick survey of the heavens, expressed
it as his belief that there would be a tropical thunder-
storm before midnight.
" Look to our starboard anchor, Mr. Ball, and see all
ready to let go," he said, "for these squalls come very
suddenly and blow very hard in Rio Harbor."
" Ay, ay, sir," said Mr. Ball. " A pair of mudhooks
make a good storm stays'l, they do."
"And see my boat is in shipshape order, Mr. Ball, "con-
tinued the Captain. " I'm going to do myself the honor
of making a call on Admiral da Gama this morning."
" There's a maii-o'- war's boat a-comiu' sir," said a
sailor.
"With the American flag flying," added the Captain,
picking up his glass and levelling it. "Why, it's Hal
King and George Briscomb."
The two boys were soon aboard the bark, and explained
how they had obtained permission to call on their friends.
" Have you seen Frank?" asked Minnie, anxiously.
"Yes," answered Harold, and then he proceeded to give
a complete account of their meeting with their friend,
and their conversation with him about Robert.
"That makes it all the more necessary that I should
get the bark alongside a city wharf where I can be in
easy communication with the government officials," said
Captain Lockwood. " I've got to see this boy that de-
serted from the Tamandare, and if it's Robert, I must
get him out of this service and home. I don't care to
stay in Rio Harbor any longer than I've got to after my
reception."
The boys looked at him inquiringly.
"Oh, you haven't heard about it, eh?" he asked, and
then he told them the story which aroused them to a
state of indignation. They feared, however, that no-
thing would be accomplished by a visit to the insurgent
Admiral.
"But it's worth trying, sir," said Hal. "It would be
a dreadful thing if the American fleet had to enforce
your demand, for we should have to fight against Frank
and he against your rights.''
"This is going to be a serious business before we're
through with it," said the Captain ; " but I owe a duty to
my fellow mariners, and if it comes to a question between
my son and my nephew, why, Frank must play second
fiddle."
After a little further conversation the boys departed,
having assured Captain Lockwood that they would give
him every assistance in their power in the search for his
son. The Captain paced the deck for half an hour in
deep thought, and then spoke in a decisive manner.
"I shall go to this insurgent Admiral, and put my
case plainly to him."
"But you won't tell him about Robert?" said Minnie.
"No, that wouldn't do. But I must get to a wharf.
Mr. Ball, get my boat alongside."
The order was obeyed, and in a few minutes Captain
Lockwood was speeding across the bay behind four
sturdy oarsmen of his crew. The flag of Admiral da
Gama had been transferred to the wooden corvette Liber-
tade, and Captain Lockwood took his boat alongside her
starboard accommodation ladder, where he was received
with considerable surprise by the tall dark -skinned
marine on sentry duty. Nevertheless he was permitted
to board the ship, while his boat was sent to lie at the
boom. The officer of the deck sent a messenger to in-
form the commanding officer of the Captain's desire.
In a few minutes the man returned and said that the
Admiral would seethe American Captain. Entering the
cabin of the Libertade, Captain Lockwood found himself
in the presence of a keen-eyed, saturnine man, with a
set, inexpressive countenance. He was sitting bolt-up-
right behind a table, with both hands resting upon it at
arm's length. His air and attitude were full of super-
cilious conceit, and Captain Lockwood could scarcely
forbear to smile.
"To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" asked the
Admiral, speaking with a slight accent and a sneering
manner.
" I have come, sir," replied Captain Lockwood, calmly,
"to ask your permission to lay my bark alongside one
of the city wharves. Discharging cargo by the aid of
lighters is a very expensive business, as you must know,
sir."
" I do know," said the Admiral, bowing slightly, " but
you must discharge your cargo that way. I cannot grant
your request."
"May I ask why?"
" Yes. You cannot lie at a wharf without being in
my line of fire. I must be free to fire upon the city
when I choose without danger of injuring foreign ships
and so embroiling myself with foreign powers."
" But — pardon me, Admiral — don't you think you are
just as likely to get yourself into trouble by preventing
vessels from landing?"
"I have prevented them, and no trouble has come,"
said the Admiral, with a cold smile. "I shall continue
to do so."
"By what right?"
"By the right which I have created," answered Ad-
miral da Gama, impressively. " The navy of Brazil has
thrown off the yoke of the tyrant Peixoto, and is fight-
ing for the freedom of the land. Here, upon the water,
our war-ships are the supreme ruling power. My plans
must not be disturbed, and I shall not permit them to be."
"Then your right is simply might."
" Call it that, if it pleases you."
Captain Lockwood was silent for a moment, and then
he said, " Was it by your orders that my bark was fired
upon in entering the harbor?"
"Yes," said the Admiral, smiling.
" I protest against it as an outrage."
120
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
'YOU MISERABLE SCOUNDREL! I'LL MAKE YODR REBEL SKIN SWEAT FOR THIS!"
"You may protest till you are hoarse, sir, but it will
be in vain. I have established a blockade over the water-
front of Rio de Janeiro, and the shots were fired simply
as a warning. They could not have harmed you. They
were blank cartridges.''
"I never before heard the whistle of a bullet follow
the discharge of a blank cartridge."
" All imagination," said the Admiral, hastily. " There
were no bullets— though I cannot say what might happen
if you attempted to go to the wharf."
" And I understand that this is a threat?"
" I do not threaten merchantmen," replied Admiral da
Gama, coldly. '' I order them, and they obey."
"I deny your right to order me."
"Your denial will not help you, sir. Understand once
and for all that you are forbidden to take your vessel to
a wharf, and that if you do attempt it you will be stopped
by my ships."
" I thank you, sir, for the politeness with which you
have received me, and for the plainness with which you
have stated your intentions. I shall tell you mine with
equal plainness."
" I shall be deeply interested in hearing them," said
the Admiral, with chilly irony.
"I am going to appeal to Admiral Stanton, of the
American fleet, for protection."
"I am sorry to tell you that you are too late. Ad-
miral Stanton is a most charming gentleman, but his ex-
treme politeness has led to his return to his native land."
" He has gone home?"
" Exactly — at the urgent request of the paternal gov-
ernment at Washington. Admiral Stanton is a sailor,
and when he meets another Admiral afloat he salutes. He
saluted my flag when he entered this harbor, and the gov-
ernment at Washington, fearing to offend the powerful
potentate whom I have
shut up in yonder city
like a rat in a trap, in-
vited him to return to
the bosom of his fam-
iiy."
"Then, sir, I shall
appeal to the senior
oflicer of our fleet."
" Captain Picking, of
the Charleston," said
the Admiral, with a
smile; " another charm-
ing gentleman, who will
do nothing whatever for
you."
"How do you know
that?"
"The Americans, I
am told, play a game
of cards called 'poker,'
in which it is consider-
ed clever to try to
alarm your adversary
by bluster — bluffing,
you call it, is it not?
Yes? The fleet which
lies at anchor over there
is an example of your
American bluff. Those
ships will not hurt me."
" Admiral da Gama,
sooner or later my bark
is going to a wharf or
going to the bottom, and
I with her."
" Well, Captain, you
will find the water quite
warm and comfortable even at a depth of ten fath-
oms."
The Admiral arose, indicating that the interview was
at an end. Captain Lockwood bowed very stiffly, and
turning on his heel, strode out of the cabin? He marched
over the side and down the ladder, and dropped into the
stern sheets of his boat, now alongside, with a sort of em-
phatic thud. "Shove off there," he said. "Get your
oars overboard, you Scandinavian kings; no man-o'-war
flubdubbery about it, either. Give way together now,
heartily, lads. Lift her, lift her."
At that same hour the bronzed young man who had
been languishing in the prison up in the hills back of Rio
was engaged in cutting away the stone around the top
of one of the bars that guarded the window. " I suppose
the geese don't know I'm a Yankee," he muttered, " or
they wouldn't leave me alone here with only three iron
bars and an eight-foot jump between me and liberty. I'll
give them a lesson they'll not forget."
He worked away diligently, and half an hour later he
easily removed the bar. "Now," he said, " here goes for
better luck."
He was about to squeeze himself out through the open-
ing, when the door opened and his jailer entered. With
a shout the man dashed forward. The boy sprang back
from the window and seized the iron bar which he had
just removed. With all his force he brought it down on
the man's head, and the jailer fell senseless. The next
minute the boy climbed out on the window sill, and with
a convulsive spring caught the limb of a tree. In a few
seconds he descended to the ground.
" Free !" he exclaimed ; " free !" Then he set off through
the woods at a run.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE LITTLE RED BOOK.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELANO.
CHAPTER III.
fTIHE next day, Tuesday, Mrs. Barnes and her
J_ daughters were sitting at luncheon, when the door-
bell rang, and Eleanor Rogers's voice was heard asking
for Miss Ruth. Then, instead of coming directly to the
dining-room, as would have been the case ordinarily, El-
eanor walked into the parlor and waited.
"How formal she is getting to be!" said Ruth, laugh-
ing, as she rose from the table. "Madge, what is the
trouble ?"
"How do I know ?" returned Madge, stiffly. "You
can ask her."
"What has happened, Madgie?" asked Mrs. Barnes when
Ruth had left the room. " I hope that you and Eleanor
have not quarrelled."
Madge said nothing.
"You know, I am very fond of Eleanor," continued
her mother. "I consider her the very nicest little girl
in Durham."
"There! that's just it!" burst out Madge. "She's too
nice for me, such a proper little Miss Prim ! I don't want
to have anything more to do with her."
"Why, Margaret," said Mrs. Barnes, "I am perfectly
astonished! Not only that you should speak to me in
such a manner, but that you should speak so of your
most intimate associate
and friend."
It meant a good deal
when Madge was called
"Margaret" by her mo-
ther.
"Well, I can't help it.
And she's not my most
intimate friend; Bertha
Weld is, and always will
be. Eleanor is so terri-
bly virtuous, she can't do
anything that's any fun."
"I thought you al-
ways found Eleanor
ready for anything in
the way of a good game
or play. I think you
must have been doing
something very extraor-
dinary if she would not
join you — something you
ought not to have been
doing."
Madge made no reply
to this, but continued to
eat her lunch in silence.
After a little while the
front door closed and
Ruth came back.
"Madge," she said, "El-
eanor came to tell me
that she cannot be Cin-
derella, and she wants
you to take the part.
What does it mean?"
"How do I know?"
asked Madge, sulkily.
"You do know some-
thing about it, and you
must explain."
"I don't know a thing.
I haven't spoken to Elea-
nor since Saturday, and
then she was going to be
Cinderella. How do I know what has made her
two change? Because she is changeable, I suppose."
"Nonsense ! Eleanor is not at all changeable. You are
thinking of yourself. Now there is some mystery at the
bottom of this, and I am bound to get at it." Ruth's eyes
snapped, and her pretty face looked very determined as
she turned to her mother. "Eleanor will not give me
any reason for her decision, except that she knows every
one thinks that Madge will do it better, and she is as firm
as a rock. She says she will not act the part, and Madge
must take it."
" Well, as she is so determined, you had better give in,"
said Madge. "I would just as lief he Cinderella."
" Just as lief? I should think so. You have wanted
to be Cinderella from the first, but it is utterly out of
the question. In the first place, I would never dream of
taking it away from Eleanor and giving it to you ; and,
besides, there is not time for you to learn your part.
Fancy, this is Tuesday, and the play is to be Thursday!
Mamma, what shall I do about it? Eleanor went off
perfectly determined that she would not do it. There is
some trouble at the bottom of it, for she looked so sad,
and I could see that it was just as much as she could do
to keep from crying. And yet she would give me no
reason for it. It is not at all like her."
'THUEE CHEEKS FOR ELEANOR ROGERS, TUB BEST CINDERELLA."
122
HAEPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
" I think you had better see Mrs. Rogers," replied her
mother. " Perhaps she will explain."
"So I will. It is most provoking to have this hap-
pen at the last minute. Madge, I can't help thinking
you know something about it."
"I don't, Ruth, you horrid old thing! You think
just because you are twenty-one years old you can order
me around and blame me for everything. I tell you —
"Margaret, go at once to your room, and do not leave
it this afternoon. I quite agree with Ruth that you have-
some clew to Eleanor's strange behavior. Once for all,
do you know why she has done so?"
"No, mamma, I don't. So there, now!" said Madge,
as she walked out of the room. "And I don't,'' she
added to herself as she went up stairs, stumbling occa-
sionally because of the angry tears in her eyes. "Of
course Bertha has done something, but I don't know
what it is, so it is the truth. I wish she hadn't, though,
for Ruth will never give in, and it's all for nothing.
And now I have to stay up here all the afternoon, instead
of going to see Bertha. It's all that horrid old Eleanor's
fault !"
Ruth went to see Mrs. Rogers that afternoon, and they
had a long talk. What she learned she told no one but
her mother: but the result must have been satisfactory.
from the expression of her face. She was very indig-
nant about something, but evidently had discovered a
means of solving the mystery and straightening the
matter.
Four o'clock on Wednesday afternoon was the hour
appointed fora rehearsal of Cinderella at the Athenaeum,
but on Wednesday morning Ruth Barnes sent out by
the coachman a number of notes requesting the various
members of the company to be there at half past three.
One of these notes went to every one but Eleanor Ro-
gers. She alone was left in ignorance of the change of
hour, and as the other girls did not receive the news of it
until they returned from school, she heard nothing of it.
Every one was interested in the play, and full of antici-
pation, so all arrived promptly at half past three, ready
and anxious to begin to rehearse at once. Ruth, how-
ever, asked them all to sit down, as she wished to speak
to them first. There were about fifteen present, for in
addition to the principal characters in Cinderella there
were those who were to act as guests at the ball, as ser-
vants and heralds, the prompter, and the boys who were
to manage the curtain.
When they were all seated Ruth looked about the
stage. She was exceedingly self-possessed, and she did
not in the least mind making a little speech to such an
audience, who were all wondering what was coming.
" I am looking to see if you are all here," began Ruth,
after a moment's pause, " and I think no one is absent
but Eleanor Rogers. I did not expect her to be here at
this hour, as I purposely sent her no notice of the changr
of time. I am anxious to consult you all about a little
matter connected with her, and it seemed better that she
should not be present."
There was a little murmur of astonishment and a rustle
of interest. Then the place was silent again, and every
one waited for Ruth to continue.
"Eleanor came to see me yesterday in order to tell me
that she could not take the part of Cinderella. She
would give no reason for her decision except that every
one thought my sister Madge would do it better. Now
I myself think Eleanor does the part exceedingly well,
and I have never had any reason to suppose that all did
not agree with me. Is it not so? What do you think
about it?"
Here came a chorus of approval.
"She does it splendidly!"
"No one could do it better."
"We all think so!"
Ruth glanced quickly and keenly from one to the other.
She noticed that Bertha and Madge alone remained silent,
and that Bertha looked distinctly annoyed.
"You almost all seem to be of one mind, "said Ruth,
when the clamor of voices had somewhat subsided, "and
that makes the affair all the more mysterious. As I said,
I could get no further explanation from Eleanor, so I
went to see Mrs. Rogers, and from her I learned that
Eleanor had received a letter which had induced her to
give up the part. I have the letter here, and I will read
it to you."
She drew the letter from her pocket, and read it aloud.
All listened with breathless interest.
"There is no signature to it. which makes it all the
worse. There is no greater coward than a person who
will deign to write au anonymous letter of this kind.
Evidently he or she is very much afraid of being found
out. This is what it said:
" ' Do you think it is right or kind for you to keep the
part of Cinderella? Every one but you thinks you ought
to give it to Madge Barnes. You ought to insist upon
her taking- it. It is the universal opinion that Madge
could do the part better than you, and she would cer-
tainly make a prettier Cinderella on account of her hair.
It is surprising that you have not found out before what
all the girls are thinking about it.' "
When Ruth ceased speaking there was a perfect out-
burst of indignation. Every one talked at once, and all
started from their seats and crowded about her, asking
questions, wishing to see the letter, wondering who could
have written it.
Bertha Weld was one of the most vehement. "Who
ever heard of such a thing?" she exclaimed, loudly.
" How perfectly dreadful !"
Ruth was watching her, and she knew it. She felt
very nervous, but was determined to brave the matter
out and avoid suspicion. She had never dreamed that
her so-called "joke" would turn out in this way.
Madge said nothing. She was too honest by nature to
attempt to carry off the affair as Bertha was doing. She
understood now what Bertha had meant when she said
she would bring about the change, and Madge was very
much ashamed of the means she had employed to do so.
In the midst of the hubbub Eleanor herself arrived.
She was immediately surrounded and led to Ruth, the
girls all chattering at once. She looked at them in
astonishment.
" What is the matter?" she asked. " Am I late? Ruth,
I am so sorry, but I know my new part perfectly."
" New part !" exclaimed May Brewster. " Listen, girls !
She thinks she is going to take a new part."
"Three cheers for Eleanor Rogers, the best Cinderella
that ever sat in the ashes!" shouted Ned Brewster.
The cheers were given with such a will that the roof of
the Athenaeum rang, and the town clerk, the librarian, and
the janitor came running to see what was the matter.
" Oh, it's only them the-atre folks !" said the janitor, in
disappointed tones.
As for Eleanor, she was too much overcome to speak.
The tears stood in her big brown eyes, and her lip trem-
bled. It had cost her a great effort to give up being
Cinderella, and now to hear that they all wanted her to
keep the part was too good to be true.
"But Madge!" she whispered to Ruth; "she wants to
be Cinderella so much !"
At this moment Madge came within hearing.
"No, I don't," she said. "It is too much bother to
change. Besides, I wouldn't be for anything now, they
all want you so much!"
The tone was not very cordial, but it was decided. The
other girls crowded up.
" I would just like you to know that I didn't write that
letter, Eleanor!"
DECEMBER 18, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
123
"Nor I! Nor I!" echoed the others.
" What do you know about the letter?" asked Eleanor,
still more astonished.
"Oh, I brought the letter!" said Ruth Barnes, smiling
at Eleanor's mystification. "You can't keep things from
me, Nell, when I once set out to discover them. But
now we must begin the rehearsal, for we want this play
to be the success of the evening. I really think I am
more anxious to have this one go off well than the other
with the 'grown-ups,' though I am going to act in that
myself."
Bertha Weld's feelings at the result of her machina-
tions may readily be imagined. There was nothing for
her to do now, however, but to endeavor to hide them.
She would not for the world have it known that she was
the author of the anonymous letter. But her rage at
Eleanor grew apace. She was also very angry with Ruth
Barnes for having settled the affair in such a way, and
she determined to do something yet that would turn
Eleanor into ridicule, and make the play a failure.
It was strange. A week ago Bertha had no especial
feeling against Eleanor except that of jealousy because
she was Madge's most intimate friend. Now it seemed as
if she had never disliked any one so much in all her life,
and yet Madge and Eleanor had quarrelled, and Bertha
herself was the favored friend.
"Of course it is because we found out that about
Eleanor in Mrs. Brewster's diary," said Bertha to herself,
as she thought over the matter. " It is because. Eleanor
and her mother are both hypocrites. It is not because
Eleanor is from an orphan asylum. Of course I would
not mind just that; I am not so snobbish. If they had
been honest and told it, it would have been all right. It
is because they are hypocrites. I detest hypocrisy."
And Bertha drew herself up wilh a very virtuous air.
She did not take the trouble to remember that Eleanor
was said to know nothing of the secret of her origin.
Neither did it occur to her that she was troubling herself
vei^ unnecessarily about other people's affairs. She re-
peated her view of the subject to Madge as they walked
home from the rehearsal together.
"I think people ought to be told," said Bertha, with a
wise nod. " They little know what queer people are
living here. Every one is so sorry for Mrs. Rogers and
Eleanor, because they used to be rich, and now Mrs.
Rogers has to give lessons. For my part, I don't think
they are to be pitied at all. Yes, I think people ought
to be told."
"Oh, Bertha. I don't!" exclaimed Madge. "It would
get to Eleanor herself, and would make her feel so badly.
Just think how terribly it would make you feel to hear
that your mother wasn't your own mother! Oh, excuse
me, Bertha; I quite forgot! Indeed I didn't mean to hurt
your feelings."
For Bertha's face had flushed. She could not remem-
ber her mother at all, but she so envied all the other
girls. It must be so lovely to have a mother. She said
nothing, and Madge continued:
"I mean, it would be so terrible for me to find out
that mamma was not my own mother. Please don't tell
it, Bertha!"
They had reached Bertha's gate by this time. "Well,
I will see," she said, slowly. " Good-by, Madge. I'm
awfully sorry you are not to be Cinderella. I did my
best to get it for you."
"I know, Bertha. I'm ever so much obliged; but I
kind of wish you hadn't."
"Well, if that is all the thanks I get!" exclaimed
Bertha.
"Oh no; really I am ever so much obliged. You
were very good, and I hope you will always be my most
intimate friend," said Madge, as she turned away.
But the yellow curls bobbed very soberly as she slowly
climbed the hill. Madge was thinking very hard. Her
position was anything but satisfactory. She was so
afraid that Bertha would tell Eleanor what they had dis-
covered. She wished that she could go at once to her
mother, confess it all, and ask her advice. But she had
promised Bertha that she would not tell the secret of the
reading of the diary. She would ask her the very next
day to release her from this promise.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
CHRISTMAS DAY.
BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER.
OF all dear days is Christmas day,
Tlie dearest and tbe best ;
Still in its dawn tlie angels sing
Their song of peace and rest.
And yet the blcssrd < 'in i.st-Child comes
And walks the shining way.
Which brings to simple earthly homes
Heaven's light on Christmas day.
Then, deep in silent woods, tbe trees —
The hemlocli, pine, and tir —
Thrill to the chilly winter breeze,
And waft a breath nt" myrrh:
And far and near Kriss Kringle's bells
Their airy music shake.
And dancing feet of boys and girls
A sweeter joyauce make.
The Christ-Child earne to Bethlehem,
To Mary's happy breast.
And found within her brooding arms
A warm encircling nest.
And many a tiny cherub child
In mother's anus to-day
Smiles like the Christ, the nndefiled,
On this dear Christmas day-
Tlie Christ-Child's mother dimly saw
Tbe cross in faint outline
Above the baby face that held
Her own in awe divine.
Thus over little cradle-beds
The sacred passion-flower
Its purple sign of sorrow spreads
In love's most rapturous hour.
To Mary's feet the AVist; Men brought
Their gifts of gold and spice;
The "Gloria'' swept the midnight skies
To greet her Pearl of Price.
And down the ladder of the stars,
Across the shining way,
The angels watched the Christ-Child come
That first dear Christmas day.
Of all dear days is Christmas day,
The very dearest dear,
The crown and clasp and topmost sheaf
Of all the joyful year.
Then dancing feet of boys and girls
Go gayly to and fro,
And "Merry, merry Christmas" rings
111 all the winds that blow.
THE STORK EXPRESS, LIMITED.
BY BARNET PHILLIPS.
IT was a long flight from Egypt to the land where the
Stork's own boy lived. At last the Stork reached that
country, and rested on the banks of the lily-pond. He
was entirely worn out, and in bad spirits. He knew he
had to run many risks — that is, if he followed Great-
grandma Pelican's advice.
" Oh, my heart is not in it!" said the Stork, with a sigh.
124
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
" NOT IN IT, NOT IN IT."
"No, tin in it.
No, tin in it," went
something in a sharp
choppy voice.
"It's all for love,
though," said the
Stork, reflectively.
"Luv, dub, tub,"
again went some-
thing or other.
" How hard it was
to take that long
flight all alone, with
no dear child to talk
to! I am so wing-
tired that my pin-
feathers must be
frayed to quills."
"Squills, squills," said the same sharp voice again.
" And no Great-grandma Pelican to comfort me," con-
tinued the Stork, too much absorbed by his own pitiable
state to heed the interruptions.
"Say that over. Slower, please. I didn't quite catch
on. Could you get that oft' shorter?" It was a small
black-and-taii bird talking very rapidly.
"I simply remarked that I had no Great-grandma Peli-
can to care for me," replied the Stork.
"Got 110 Great-grand Pa Melican to Tucker for me.
Thanks. No use saying it again. Once is sufficient.
I am all right." The Mocking-bird rattled that off
in a most self-sufficient way, and jumped up and down
on a limber twig, which gave him a spring.
" But you are all wrong. I never said Tucker. Pray
what is Tucker?" asked the Stork, astonished.
"Tucker? Pooh! Certainly a relative of old Dan
Tucker. A French cousin, Tuckare— to care. See? Folks
insist I am accurate. I am not accurate. Don't want to
be. Just as if accuracy amounted to anything. Accu-
rate! a-curate. It's all the same. See?"
" No, I do not see," said the Stork, much puzzled.
" That don't suit you? Well, you are hard to please,"
continued the Mocking-bird. " Maybe you can under-
stand this. Try. Accurate. Accurat. Rat, rat, rat. Accu-
niouse, accudog, accucat, cat-cat-cat. Miau, miau, bow-
wow, or wow-bow. What's the difference, eh?"
The Mocking-bird seemed to be excited. He danced,
tilted, teetered. His wings shivered, and he twitched his
tail.
"I am scarcely in the humor to bother with you," said
the Stork, gravely. "It is not nice of you to mock me, I
am sa unhappy."
" You wouldn't believe it, but there are many people
trying to trap me-me-me-me," said the bird, abruptly.
" How?" asked the Stork, paying the strictest attention.
"With snares, horse-hair loops, and figorry fours.
There is one special prime idiot ot-ot-ot. He goes lugging
around a brand-new brass-wired cage. Just as if I didn't
know that the open door snaps to with a spring. In the
bottom of the cage that dunce puts a sliced hard-boiled
egg-"
"Do you like eggs?" inquired the Stork.
" Eggs should be cooked twenty-eight minutes by the
clock. Then I adore them. But what aggravates me
most are the silly attempts made to lure me by giving me
free-gratis imitations of birds. They are such ludicrous
failures, not worth a cent."
"Will you kindly explain?"
" I ask you, did you ever hear any bird not in a lunatic
asylum express himself this way — 'gyck'?"
"I never did that I can remember," said the Stork,
thoughtfully. "So they try to catch you with bird-
calls?"
" Bird-calls! You flatter those boobies. Do you fancy
for an instant that I reply to their catcalls? I pay them
back in another coin. It's in every-day English."
" I can only talk Stork. Will you teach me every-day
English?" asked the Stork, imploringly.
Then the Mocking-bird looked at the Stork from head
to foot, and to do that had to flutter up and down several
times.
"I haven't finished yet; you interrupt so. They don't
all try to catch me. There is a sweet little boy living
around here. I sing for him by the hour. He is ever
so nice. He breaks off little bits of cake and throws
them to me. He talks to me. Sometimes I wonder how
much or how little he knows about bird language. He
has certainly the real shape of mouth for it. It's a
strange gift that little boy has."
" That's my boy," cried the Stork, a trifle jealous.
'• How your boy?" inquired the Mocking-bird, bristling
up his feathers. "See here, you are cool — cool — cool."
The Stork thought it wiser not to be too confidential.
"Will you teach me just a little of this every-day Eng-
lish?" he asked, humbly. "I am so anxious to learn
only a few words."
"Certainly. Say ' yep.' "
"Yep," repeated the Stork.
" Now say ' iiope.' "
"What's nope?"
"It's what yep isn't. It's ridiculously easy."
"Oh!" said the Stork, terribly impressed.
"Another word you must learn is 'awful.' You
couldn't do without that, and 'daisy.' Having these
four words, that's all. Good-day." And the Mocking-
bird balanced himself as if preparing to fly away.
"Oh, do stop, please. I want to learn just one sen-
tence, and it is, ' Don't you know me, your bestest old
Stork?' I will never forget your kindness if you teach
me that in every-day English."
"What awful rubbish! Here, if you want a sentence
that is a sentence, learn ' Gimme a eel.' That's sense, or,
' Hurry up with that minnow.' You can travel the world
around on them."
" Let me implore you to teach me the sentence I want.
It is the only one I care for."
" But it is absurd. ' Your bestest old Stork !' 'Bestest!'
It's utterly ridiculous. Don't bother with such stuff as
that. I know every-day English, and I assure you that
that sentence is the weakest milk-and-water baby-talk
I ever heard, and unbecoming of any grown- up bird.
'Bestest' — ha! ha!" The Mocking-bird just shrieked
with laughter.
The Stork said: "Oh, you don't know, you can't im-
agine, how much depends on that sentence!"
" What an obstinate old party you are! Well, let me
see. 'Bestest' is
not English, but
' asbestos ' is.
Come, I will com-
promise on that.
Repeat, then,
' Don't you know
me, your asbestos
old Stork?'"
The Mocking-
bird seemed to
be quite dictato-
rial, so the Stork
thought it wiser
not to differ from
him, for the fact
was he did not
know a word of
"every- day Eng-
lish. The Mock-
ing-bird said the
LODGING THE MOCKING-BIRD.
DECEMBER IS, 1894.
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
125
sentence over and over
again, though he kept
jeering and tittering all
the time. It was hard
work for the poor
Stork, for all the time
the Mocking-bird would
fly away, swing around
a tree, and come back
again, so that it was dif-
ficult to follow him.
"It's getting awful
tiresome," said the
Mocking-bird when the
sun was about setting.
" There never was such
REUNITED. a bore. See here, Stork,
as you have kept me so
fai- from my home, you owe me board and lodging," and
with that he made a hop right on top of the Stork's bill,
roosted there, and was soon sound asleep.
The moon was away up in the starry sky before the
Stork could close his eyes. He kept on repeating the
sentence, and then he dreamt it. Just as the sun rose,
the Stork felt the Mocking-bird running up and down his
bill. When he awoke, the Stork at once repeated the
sentence.
"K'rect," said the Mocking-bird; "not quite as k'rect
in pronunciation as I should have wished, still with a
good deal of feeling in it. Honest, now, you are no Poll
Parrot." And away flew the Mocking-bird through the
.resounding woods.
The Stork breakfasted fairly well in the lake, and then
he bathed. He preened his feathers, curled his top-knot.
Then he was as handsome a bird as ever was seen. Just
snow white, with a little edging of black on the wings,
and a pink beak and legs. His heart beat, though, so
fast! Had the Mocking-bird been fooling him? The
Mocking-bird had said that he was inaccurate.
The Stork, as we all know, is a confiding bird. He had
never fooled anybody, and did not believe that, after all,
the Mocking-bird had been humbugging him. Then the
Stork flew to the rivulet that emptied into the lake. He
picked his ground carefully this time, and settled down
where it was not marshy. Then he listened and lis-
tened.
Now he heard a soft sound of laughter, like the ring-
ing of silver bells, and the Stork saw close to him his own
boy. The Stork was breathless. It was an anxious mo-
ment. Fearlessly the boy neared the Stork. Apparently
he saw the Stork at once, for he said:
" Poor birdie, won't you let me touch you? How nice
you are! Why did you fly away when I saw you be-
fore?"
Now came the supreme moment. "And don't you
know me, your bestest old Stork?" said the Stork in a whis-
per, in his queer plain English. Maybe the little boy did
not quite make out the third word before the last one, but
he understood the drift of it all.
"Know you? say it again and again. Know you? I
don't know anything else. Why, I have been dreaming
and dreaming of you, just as when I was ever so little.
Hurt you, you good Stork? Why, see, I am kissing you,
petting you. You won't melt away? You have got to
stay for good, and for ever and ever. Let me put my arm
around your neck to prevent you from vanishing."
The Stork did not shrink from the boy's caresses. You
must bear this in mind: the situation was changed. In
the past it was the Stork who had been the protector of
the infant; now the boy stood quite ready and able to
defend the Stork. But true love makes us all equal, and
so in an instant the Stork lost all shyness. Dear me!
what a hugging and a fondling there was, to be sure ; and
how they talked ! for, strange to relate, all the old stork-
language had come back with a rush to the little boy.
The Stork could hardly reply quickly enough to the boy's
questions. There was not an incident of the first journey
that had not to be rehearsed.
" You won't mind my shutting my eyes, will you, now
and then, and pretending it's dark? What an old sleepy-
head I was once! You see, when I shut my eyes I pre-
tend I am dreaming, for then I understand better what
you say; and when I open my eyes, so that I can see
you, I know you are here. Did you know I had such a
dear little mother? And we do so love one another; but
she can't fly away with me, though I am sure she would
if she could. But that reminds me. you never have
said a word about that nice old squatty bird —
"Great-grandma Pelican?" said the Stork, delighted.
" What a memory you have, dear!"
" Didn't she smell of fish, though? I often dream, toor
of that fishy smell. Wasn't she good? Didn't she make
me a present of something or other?"
"She did. She hung a necklace of precious beads
around your neck, " said the Stork.
"That's so; I remember now. I didn't dream that. I
must have lost them. Maybe the clasp broke. I have
such a bad way of breaking things. I fancy I always am
missing something, and I think I have been hunting that
necklace for ever so long."
"Don't you worry over it," said the Stork. " Great-
grandma Pelican will be so happy when she hears from
you that she will give you another string of beads, and
playthings galore." Then the Stork and the boy talked
on and on for hours and hours, and the Stork prom-
ised. . . .
I do not know what it was the Stork promised. I
wish I did; but, just as certain as can be, whatever he
promised he performed.
You see, it happened such a long, long time ago, that I
should not be called upon to follow out exactly all that
came to pass after the Stork found his little boy. Great-
grandma Pelican might give me the end of the story, but
from one thing or another I have been putting off my
visit to Egypt. All I can wish is that the happy dreams
of childhood may come true.
TEACHER. "Oh Bobby! How many times must I tell you
that what you call a horse's front legs are his fore legs. Wilt
you try to remember?"
BOBBY. "Yes'm."
TEACHER. " Well, now, once more before you go home, tell me
how rnauy legs has a horse ?"
BOBBY. " Six legs."
TEACHER. "Six? How do you make that?"
BOBBY. " AVhy, the fore legs what's his front legs, and the two,
legs what's his hind legs, makes six legs."
126
HAKPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
GRANDFATHER'S ADVENTURES.
BY PAUL HULL.
I.— THE WRECKER'S LANTERN.
GOOD-MORNING, grandpop," called a happy boy-
ish voice, and Ralph Pell stepped out on the porch
through the low parlor window.
Old Captain Sterling swung round, greeting his fa-
vorite grandson with a pleased look as he returned the
salutation.
"Oh, I say, grandpop!" exclaimed the lad, "if you
are in the humor for it, won't you tell me the prom-
ised story about that big lantern with red and green
shades that you gave to Sam to polish up yesterday?
Sam calls it a 'jibber-the-kibber' lantern, whatever that
outlandish name means."
"And funny as it may sound, Ralph, that is its right
name, meaning a wreckers' lamp. That same lantern
came near being the cause of piling my ship up on the
rocks off the coast of Maine. But sit down and I'll spin
you the yarn.
"A number of years ago I was bound from the West
Indies to Portland. Late one afternoon we sighted the
land, after several days of foggy weather, and found that
a strong current had set us well to the eastward of our
port, so I hauled tbe ship to the southward and westward,
steering pretty close to the shore in order to keep clear
of a thick fog-bank that I could see hanging about three
miles seawards.
"That night the stars shone bright enough to be re-
flected in the calm water, but there was no moon, and
nothing but a little deeper gloom told where the water
ended and where the shore -line began. About nine
o'clock we had Booth Bay light abeam, with a faint air
from the southward, which helped the fog-wall to creep
in closer and closer to the land until it was almost upon
us. However, I had made up my mind not to hug the
coast any closer, when the mate called my attention to a
vessel's red light 'way in shore of us. By the distinctness
and color of the light it was plain to us that a large ves-
sel was heading the same way as ourselves. A few min-
utes later the edge of the fog- bank crept across the deck.
" 'Well, Mr. Porter,' I said to the mate, ' what do you
think of standing in a little closer so as not to be swal-
lowed up in this confounded mass of vapor?'
' 'I think, sir,' the mate answered, 'that we would be
perfectly safe to do it. That vessel there is all of a mile
iii-shore of us.'
"So I edged in-shore as the fog advanced, but always
kept well outside of the red light that I supposed to be
burning on the port side of another vessel.
" Suddenly there was a slight grating sound along the
bottom of the ship, then a tremor, and the way ceased.
"We were ashore. But still the red light moved slowly
ahead on our starboard beam. I had been decoyed by a
wrecker carrying a colored lantern along the shore, which
now showed quite distinct.
"I determined to have revenge upon the cowardly
scoundrel who sought to lure my ship to ruin for his own
selfish purposes.
' Mr. Porter,' I said, 'put the skiff quietly over the
side, and let one man get into her. It is low tide now,
and we will float off safe enough later on.'
"I hurriedly entered the cabin, thrust a heavy billy
into my pocket, and selected a couple of large handker-
chiefs, provided with which I dropped into the boat and
tied them around the looms of the oars so as to muffle
the thud when they pounded against the rowlocks. Then
I directed the course of the boat toward the shore, a little
in the rear of the red light, and a few minutes later I
jumped out on a ledge of rocks, and started after the
scoundrel, whose outline grew clearer and clearer as I
crept stealthily upon him where he stood, peering in the
direction of my vessel, with the lantern resting on the
ground at his feet.
"I was almost upon him before he detected me. He
parried tbe blow that I aimed at his head with the billy,
then closed with me. He was a mighty big and strong
man, but I was bigger and stronger, and quickly threw
him heavily, and knelt on his chest, while my hands held
his throat in a vise.
" The next moment I rolled over almost senseless from
a blow upon my head, and had just sense enough left to
see in the red glow of the lantern an upraised cudgel
ready to descend on my unprotected head.
"The club never fell, for the man pitched face down-
wards upon the rocks, felled like a log from the crush-
ing blow of my boatswain's fist. The seaman had pulled
the skiff up on the ledge, and followed me unbidden, ' to
see the fun,' as he explained it afterwards — for which
breach of discipline you may be sure I forgave him.
"We bound the hands of the two men together, and
when they came to their senses we carried them off to
the ship, which floated when the tide rose. The next
day I reached Portland, and turned our two interesting
captives over to the police, but the lantern I kept for a
souvenir.
" And now, Ralph, you have the history of the ' jibber-
the-kibber ' lantern."
A DAINTY HAIR-PIN BOX.
EVERY girl likes dainty boxes. In fact, every woman, young
or old, can find a place for one more if it is attractive iu its
way. Therefore, if you want to make a really charming little
gift, either for your chum or for some older friend, this hair-pin
box will serve you well. It is very pretty and ornamental, be-
sides keeping the troublesome pins in place; and as it requires
only such neatness and care as you are sure to be willing to
give, there is no reason for failing iu the work.
As a matter of course, you cau make it of any color and any
material you may prefer; but as linen is peculiarly good for all
such things, the model is made from a fine piece of purr white.
The embroidery is all done with old-pink tilo-floss, and the effect
is indeed excellent. But as again the particular style of deco-
ration is a matter of choice, only a hint cau be given. The
I
..j
essentials of success lie iu the method of making. You may
embroider any device you like best, or even paint the linen if
you are clever with your brush. So long as you do the work
well you will succeed, let the style of ornamentation be what it
will.
To make the box, then, first select your material and cut from
it four pieces — two ten inches long by six and a quarter vide,
two seven inches long by three wide. When so much is done
cut stiff card-board into pieces of the following sizes: two six
and one-half inches by two and a quarter, two six and a half by
one and a quarter, and two two and a quarter by one and a
quarter.
From each corner of the two larger pieces of linen cut a
square bit just one and a half inches each way, so as to form a
piece like the one the diagram shows. Then lay two pieces of
the linen — one larger and one smaller — on a table or clean board,
and place the card-boards on them. The smaller piece is for the
cover ; so lay upon it one of the boards six and a half inches by
two and a quarter, and allow the edges to extend evenly beyond.
Then mark where it falls. The larger piece will make the box
DECEMBER 18, 1894.
HAKPEK'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
127
proper. On it lay the one large and four smaller pieces of board
as tlie dotted lines indicate, and mark where each falls. You
will then be able to embroider the top, sides, and ends in exactly
their proper places.
Draw upon the linen the design you have chosen, or have it
stamped, after which do all the work and press it carefully be-
fore you attempt to make the bos. Wheu you are ready to
begin that part of the work, place the larger embroidered piece,
right side down, upon the table, and again lay on all the pieces
of the box, but this time paste each lightly in its place with
smooth flour paste.
Turn over all the edges, and paste them so as to make every-
thing quite neat. Then when the paste is dry lay over each
piece of board a layer of perfumed wadding, and paste the plain
linen or lining firmly into place. Lay the cover upon its piece
of linen, turn under, and paste all the edges, and line it also
with care, after which place both it and the box under a heavy
weight.
Next day, or several hours later, when it will be quite dry and
firm, turn up the sides and ends to form the box, sew narrow
ribbons to each corner, aud tie it into place. Put the cover on
evenly, and make it also secure with two small bows, one near
each end, which will serve as hinges, and attach a loop at the
opposite side with which to raise the lid.
You will find that you have made a perfect box, aud that it is
a very charming little trifle, apart from its convenience and daily
WELL FIXED.
THE snail he leads a happy life,
It always seems to me ;
He has to earu his daily bread,
But gets his house rent free.
THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF TOMMY
TODDLES.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTER I.
IT was early in the afternoon of a bright autumn day that
Tommy Toddles sat by the wiudow in the big playroom at the
top of the house, looking wistfully out over the swaying trees
toward the distant hills. He was beginning to feel lonely, for he
bad been left to himself almost an hour since luncheon, aud
everything in the house was so quiet that it seemed as if every
one had gone to sleep. Not even the memory of two large pieces
of plum pudding were sufficient to occupy Tommy's mind for so
long as an hour, and the toys which lay about the floor appeared
uninteresting. He had been playing with the curiously colored
wooden animals of his Noah's ark until they no longer offered
auy attraction, aud then he had climbed up on to the window
seat, and pressed his little nose against the window-pane for
what seemed to him a very long period of time. How he
wished that his uncle Dick was there to take him out for a
wild romp across the fields! How they would climb fences and
jump ditches, aud pick up queer-shaped stones aud fallen birds'
nests ! But Uncle Dick was not there, and there was no use
hoping for him, because he had gone away, and would not be
back again from the distant city for at least a week. And in
the mean while no one else would ever think of taking Tommy
for a tramp in the woods. He could play in the big garden as
much as he wished to, but he must not go beyoud the gate ; and
as he looked out at the hills aud the fields and caught a glimpse
of the blue ocean far off in the distance, he sighed at the thought
of the barrier gate.
" But I suppose there is no use wishing for things," he thought,
almost out loud. " The only thing to do is to wait, and I do get
so tired of waiting. I wish I had asked Uncle Dick to send me
the sheep instead of waiting to bring it with him. Aud I do
hope it will be a nice, white, woolly sheep, as big as a real one,
and strong enough for me to ride on."
This woolly sheep that Tommy was thinking about had been
the subject of a long discussion between him and his uncle
Dick just before the latter's departure. Uncle Dick had prom-
ised to bring back from the city anything that Tommy minht
ask for, aud the little boy had promptly demanded a goat — a
live billy goat ! He thought it would be nice to have it on the
lawn in front of the big house, aud to hitch it to his expiv.ss
wagon and drive it about. But, unfortunately, when Tommy's
mother heard of this plan, she firmly objected to having a live
goat. She said she would not allow any such animal about the
house. Tommy then suggested a sheep, a little woolly sheep
that could have a blue ribbon around its neck with a bell hang-
ing from it. But his mother objected to the sheep, too, and so
after a long talk with Uncle Dick the little boy compromised on
a stuffed sheep which should be very white and very woolly,
and should have some sort of interior mechanism that would
make it bleat.
Consequently, as Tommy gazed out of the window, he kept
picturing to himself what glorious times he would have when
his uncle got back with the woolly sheep: but at the thought
of all these future joys he grew very drowsy. He turned from
the window and wondered what he could do to pass away the
long afternoon. There stood the Noah's ark on the floor just as
he had left it, with the animals walking down the gang-plank,
two by two, in the order of their sizes — the giraffes first and
the guinea-pigs last. How often he had arranged them that
way ! Sometimes they walked up the gang-plank and some-
times they walked down, but as a matter of fact they alu-ays
stood still.
"If they could only be alive," mused Tommy, "and really
walk. If they could go in and out like real animals, and have
pens and houses aud eat things."
And as he thought of the wonderful outcome of such a. pos-
sibility, it suddenly seemed to him that the animals actually
did begin to move. He looked again aud became sure that they
were moving! The long line of wooden animals was actually
wobbling along down the gang-plank! And how funny they
looked with their stiff wooden legs and their awkward wooden
bodies !
Tommy Toddles was so surprised at the behavior of his toys
that he just sat stock still and stared at them. They seemed to
in paying no attention whatever to him. They were moving on
down the gang-plank aud across the floor, the two giraffes lead-
ing the way, and all the other animals following in perfect order,
just as he had arranged them. They progressed slowly toward
the open door which led to the hallway, but every now and then
the procession was delayed by the last guinea-pig which kept
getting its toes caught in the threads of the carpet. They passed
through the doorway and marched out into the hall, and then
actually began going down the stairs. Tommy got up from
the window seat aud followed them.
" This is very queer," thought he. " If Uncle Dick could only
see them now!" Aud then be started down stairs in the wake
of the guinea-pigs. "I do hope we won't meet the cook," he
continued mentally, as the procession reached the first lauding;
"she is so near-sighted she might not see them, and she would
be sure to step on those in front aud break their legs. Then
they would not be able to walk any more."
By this time the animals had reached the ground-floor, for
they were moving along quite rapidly, and the head of the col-
umn, led by the giraffes, started straight for the front door. The
toys now appeared to Tommy as if they were very much larger
than usual. It seemed to him as if they had grown during the
trip down the stairs, but in spite of this sudden and unnatural
growth none of them was anywhere near tall enough to reach
the door-knob, aud the little boy wondered how they were going
to get out into the garden, for it was evidently their intention
to go there. He sat down on the steps to watch.
The procession moved steadily onward, and when the giraffes
reached the door they marched right through it as if there had
not been auy door there at all. The other animals did the same
thing. Tommy could see them approach the door and gradual-
ly fade away into it, and then he thought he could hear them
treading on the gravel path outside.
"Well, that is the most wouderfulest tbiug I ever .saw!" he
gasped, quite regardless of grammar. "I have heard of people
teeing "through a door, aud hcariny through a door, aud s
128
HAKPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
•WELL, THAT IS THE MOST WONDEKFULEST THING I EVER SAW!"
got further and further
away down the road they
seemed to grow larger and
larger instead of becoming
smaller, as, according to all
optical laws, they should
have done. They still
maintained their relative
positions in line, with the
little guinea-pigs toddling
along in the rear, almost
running in their breathless
endeavors to keep up with
the others, but by the time
the latter had reached the
gate they appeared to be
life size, audjas the little
boy glanced over the shrub-
bery which screened the
garden from the public
highway, he could plainly
see the tall heads and long
necks of the giraffes mov-
ing away in the distance.
[TO HE CONTINUED.]
COUSIN JANE. "Did you
stay up late Xmas eve ?"
JACK. "Yes; brother
Bobby and I lay awake, and
about eleven o'clock we
heard the door open, and
in came Santa Clans; up
jumped Bobby and I, and
grabbed him. Who do you
think it was?"
COUSIN JANE. " Santa
Clans, of course."
JACK. "No, it was papa."
through a door" — and here Tommy recollected vividly the odor
of pancakes coming through the closed kitcheu door — "but I
never saw anything go through a door before. These animals
must all be like sounds or smells or sights, "concluded the little
boy, for that was the only rational explanation he could make
to himself for their odd behavior. "But I wonder where they
are going?" and he got up from his seat on the steps and ran
down to the front door. He did not stop to take his cap or to
tell his mother he was going out, as he usually did, but he
opened the front door and stood on the porch watching the pro-
cession which by this time had gotten quite a distance down
the broad driveway.
The animals passed out through the open gate, and as they
BOBBY. "Which do you like best, Thanksgiving or Christ-
mas ?"
GEORGE. " Xmas, of course; on Thanksgiving you only eat
turkey and cranberries, but on Xmas you eat turkey and cran-
berries, and get lots of presents besides."
FREDDY (day before Xmas). " Santa Claus is going to have
some trouble coming down our chimney."
JOHNNY. " How is that ?"
FKKDDY. " I went up to the roof yesterday and put a stray
cat in the chimney, aud she hasu't come down yet."
THE BOYS' AMBUSCADE.
COLORED PARTY. " FKOW AWAY, IBE KIN OATOH." HE OATOIIF.S MOEK THAN HE BARGAINED FOR.
HARPEKS
H
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1894, by HARPKB & BROTHERS. All Rights Res,
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 791.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1894.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YEA It.
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.
BY \V. J. [IKXDKkSOX.
CHAPTER XV.
A REFUSAL AND A PROMISE.
Alma's boat sped easily across the bay toward the
Charleston. Captain Lock wood's lips were com-
pressed, and there was a blaze in his eyes. If he had
been commander of an American man-of-war at that mo-
ment there would have been trouble in Rio Harbor. The
light boat shot up easily alongside the ladder, and the
Captain ran up to the deck. As he crossed the side he
lifted his cap and said, with emphasis, "Thank goodness,
I am among civilized men!"
The officer of the deck approached with a smile, and
said, "You speak like an American."
" I am one. I am the owner and master of the bark
Alma from New York, and I have come to ask for pro
tection from the senior officer of the American fleet.''
The officer of the deck
at once sent word to Cap-
tain Picking, who prompt-
ly received the sturdy
old skipper. Captain
Lockwood told his story
with seaman! ike blunt-
ness, and the commander
of the Charleston, heard
him with courtesy.
"I am afraid I cannot
do anything for you,"
said Captain Picking.
Captain Lockwood
stared at him in amaze-
ment.
" Why, what on earth
are you here for?'' he ex-
claimed.
"I am here to protect
American interests in
this harbor, but I do not
believe that I should be
protecting them by doing
anything that would ap-
pear to favor one side or
the other."
"But American ships
are being fired on by the
insurgents. Mine is not
the first."
"I am aware of that;
but you must not act in such a way as to draw fire. I
can only say to you that if you insist upon going to a
wharf, you must do it at your own risk. I cannot inter-
fere in the matter."
" Then I am wasting my time here," said Captain Lock-
wood, rising to go.
" I advise you to do nothing hasty," said Captain Pick-
ing, kindly.
"What do you mean?"
" The American fleet will soon be under another com-
mander. Admiral Benham, who is due here in two or
three days. He may see some way to aid you which I
do not."
"I thank you for the suggestion. I understand you
to mean that Admiral Benham may come with later orders
from the national government than those you have, and
hence may act differently. You needn't say a word, sir.
'HELP! HELP!" HE CRIED.
130
HAEPEK'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
I appreciate Hie delicacy of your position, and I'm in-
debted to von for your courtesy."
And with .-i sailorl ike salute Captain Lockwood turned
and left the cabin. In a few minutes lie was well on Ills
wa\ Uaek to the Alum. ( )n his arrival a few words sullired
to put Minnie and Mr. Ball in possession of the facts.
•• Well, I'm blowed!" was Mr. Ball's comment.
•• You will not try to go to a wharf?" asked Minnie.
" Not Till I Mud out what this new Admiral has got to
sav. But I'm going to shift our anchorage a bit."
'flic next morning the Alma was got under way to
stand a little closer under the shore. As soon as her head
fell off and her jib filled, a heavy rifle volley was loosed
at her from the Trajano. The bark was at once brought
to the wind, and the anchor let go; but even after that
several shots were fired across her deck. Captain Lock-
wood was in deep anger, but he made no further attempt
to move his bark. Two days later Admiral Benham's
flag was hoisted on the San Francisco, and a new feel-
ing was aroused in the fleet of American merchantmen.
Captain Lockwood waited until another day had passed,
and then he ordered his boat and started for the flag-ship.
He was a man of stern purpose, and he had made up his
mind that if the American commander did not promise
him protection he would send Minnie to some place of
safety, and endeavor to run the Alma to a wharf in spite
of the insurgent rihVs. Fortunately for him he did not
have to resort to such a hazardous experiment. He was
received by Admiral Beiiham with the greatest courtesy,
and again told his story, with the addition of the Tnijmio
incident.
" The United States flag," he said, " was living aboard
my bark the whole time."
"Captain Lockwood," said the Admiral, gravely," re-
turn to your vessel. I shall at once enter into com-
munication on this subject with Admiral da Gama, and I
assure you, sir, that you shall receive protection from the
United States forces under my command."
Captain Lockwood looked the dignified old veteran in
the eye, and saw there an expression of quiet resolution
which gave him the greatest satisfaction.
"Thank you, sir, heartily. Good-morning," he said.
Captain Lockwood went back to the Alma and told
what had happened. Even Kibo, the cook, was interested.
and he set up a barbarian shout of joy that filled the fore-
castle with discordant echoes. An hour later a launch
with an officer seated in the stern was seen to leavo the
San Francisco's side, and hurry away toward the jJhi'i-
tade. The officer carried a letter from Admiral Benham
to Admiral da Gama. It was properly a confidential
communication, but its contents were soon known among
the officers of the American fleet.
"Do you know what it said?" asked George. "It
went this way, ' Your right to establish a blockade of
the whole or any part of the harbor of Rio de Janeiro is
not conceded, and no such blockade will be respected, as
belligerent rights have not been accorded you.' "
" W'ich the same it are werry fat talk," said Peter
Morris.
"Look here, Peter," said Hal, "you must keep this
business to yourself. It will not do to have the men
chattering."
"Bless ye, sir," said Peter, "I'll be as dumb as my
Aunt Mehitabel's big clock wot never spoke but oncet a
year, an' then it struck one at one o'clock in the mornin'
on the fust o' Janiwary, sir."
"Yes," continued George, who was greatly excited,
" and Admiral da Gama replied that the firing of his
ships was not an act of aggression against the American
flair, but a warning to merchant ships to keep out of the
lineof fire. He said the shots were always withoutball."
" An' that are wot I calls a twister," said Peter.
" Twister!" exclaimed George. " It's a regular — "
"Not so loud, Georgie," said Hal. "It certainly is
not true, for Captain Lockwood told us he heard bullets,
and one of them went through a sail."
" Are that true?" asked Peter.
"Yes, certainly," said Harold.
"Then afore we leaves this 'ere harbor the American
eagle are got to let out one scream, sure."
" Now mind you don't go talking about this among
the men, "said Hal.
" Among the wot, sir? Slobs, sir; slobs are wot I calls
'em, an' I wouldn't tell 'em nothin' if I thought they
was a-bustiif fur to know."
CHAPTER XVI.
THE MEETING OF THE CAPTAINS.
THE next day the two boys had more news about the
correspondence between the two Admirals.
" Do you know what Admiral Benham's latest is?"
asked Hal, joining George in the steerage.
"No; what?"
"He has demanded that all firing be stopped."
This was true. On January 27th, Admiral Benham
wrote once more to Admiral da Gama. " I now de-
mand,"he said, "that any order which any ship or shore
battery under your command may now have to stop or
in any way interfere with the movements of any Ameri-
can vessels about the harbor, while in the pursuit of their
lawful business, be rescinded at once. I also request to
be notified when this has been done. This demand is not
intended to restrict or hamper in any way the prosecu-
tion of your military or naval operations." Harold was
not acquainted with the wording of this letter, but he
knew something about the nature of its contents. The
two boys were just going on deck for the second dog-
watch, and had paused under the break of the forecastle,
where Peter Morris was leaning against the bulkhead.
"Werry good, too," remarked the honest cockswain.
"If all the firin' stops the revolution are over, an' we
ups killick an' goes home."
"But do you suppose that Admiral Benham means
that Admiral da Gama mustn't fire at all?" said Hal.
" In course," answered Peter; " ain't that wot he says?"
"No," said George; "only that he mustn't fire on
American vessels."
"An' a werry proper order," said Peter, emphatically.
" But," said Hal, thoughtfully, " suppose that Da Gama
refuses to comply with this demand?"
"Then I reckon as how we are got to make him," an-
swered Peter, "else what are we here for?"
"I tell you," exclaimed George, "that would suit me
to a T."
" Why, Georgie?" said Hal.
" Oh, you needn't look so shocked," said George. " I
should like to see some active service."
"So should I," answered Harold, "but in other cir-
cumstances. I can't help thinking of poor Frank's ter-
rible position in this matter. He must be suffering in-
tense agony of mind."
"Hal, I'm just as sorry for Frank as you are, but if
there's going to be a row here I'm going to put him out
of my mind and enjoy the fun, and you'd belter do the
same."
"You let Mr. King alone, sir," said Peter; " when the
time comes for a scrimmage he'll be right on deck."
" Time's up," said Harold. " We must go on duty."
It was a beautiful clear evening, but warm. A very
light breeze was blowing, and the flags on the vessels flut-
tered rather languidly. George had hardly taken two
turns across the deck when he heard a hail from Harold,
who was standing watch as midshipman of the forecastle.
"Signals flying on the flag-ship, sir!"
Mr. Harniss, who was officer of the deck, hurried to
DECEMBER 25, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
131
the bridge, and with signal-book in hand, noted the flags
at the San Francisco's signal-yard. The uppermost flag-
was solid red, the second solid blue, and the third con-
sisted of two horizontal red stripes with a white stripe
between them.
''It's 137," he said, turning over the leaves of the
book and reading, '"Commanding officers of ships report
aboard nag ship.' Quartermaster, run up the answering
pennant. Orderly!"
The marine who answered the last hail was sent to in-
form Commander Brownsou of the nature of the signal.
Before he had fairly turned away, Mr. Harniss, antici-
pating the command which he knew would come from
the Captain, ordered the steam-launch to be got ready
and brought to the starboard gangway, and sent a mes-
senger after Harold's sword, for it was the boy's duty to
act as boat officer. The crew of the steam-launch tum-
bled on deck, and the men were speedily but carefully
inspected by Harold, to make sure that they were proper-
ly uniformed. The launch had hardly reached the foot
of the starboard accommodation -ladder before Commander
Brownson came out of his cabin. A minute later he was
iut the boat and on his way to the San Francisco. He
spoke not a word during the brief passage, but kept his
eyes fixed with an expression of deep thought on the ves-
sels of the insurgents, sullenly tugging at their cables off
Engenhu. Three other launches, from the New York,
Newark, and Charleston, were tearing the blue water into
ribbons of emerald and silver as they plunged forward
toward the flag-ship. It looked like a mad race to see
which would arrive first, but as they neared the ship the
others slackened speed and permitted the launch of the
senior officer, Captain Picking, to go to the ladder first.
The marine guard at the gangway presented arms, the
boatswain's whistle shrieked a shrill salute, and the Cap-
tain disappeared behind the ship's iron bulwarks. The
other officers followed in their order, and in a few seconds
Harold found himself sitting idly in the launch, which
was bobbing uneasily on the small ripple a few yards off
the ship's quarter. There was an air of deep expectancy
aboard the San Francisco. Though it was a dog-watch,
when much latitude is allowed to Jack, the men forward
were very quiet. For the most part they sat or lay about
the forecastle, smoking and conversing in low tones, with
their rough hairy faces screwed into a hundred queer
shapes around the blackened stems of their glowing pipes.
Occasionally a louder word or a hoarse laugh rolled over
the side, where it seemed to fall into the water and be
drowned, so suddenly was it followed by a deeper silence.
Even as Nature sometimes appears to brood before she
bursts into a storm, so now the flag-ship of the American
fleet seemed to be instinct with serious purpose.
In the cabin of Admiral Benham the Captains of his
ships were listening to a grave communication. The
Admiral explained to them with great care the exact de-
tails of the situation, and gave each explicit orders as to
his duties for the following day. These orders caused
every man's lips to close a little more tightly, while his
eyes sparkled with a new light. Admiral da Gama had
paid no attention to Admiral Benham's letter demanding
orders for the final cessation of all firing upon American
ships. Now the American commandei- had finished
letter writing, and was preparing to speak another lan-
guage. The meeting lasted over an hour. Then the
launches were called in their order, and in a few minutes
Commander Brownson was steaming back toward the
Detroit. There was a very stern expression 011 his
countenance, and his eyes burned with an intense fire.
He gazed steadily at his own ship, and seemed to be mak-
ing a mental note of every detail of her rig and arma-
ment. Then he turned his eyes upon the rebel ships
Guanabara and Trajano, and a grim smile passed over
his face. The next moment his eyes met those of Harold,
who was watching him with a sort of respectful curi-
osity.
''Young gentleman," said the Commander, in a low
tone, "are you much given to cowardice?"
Harold started with surprise. "I don't know, sir," he
answered, modestly. " I have never been tried."
Once again Commander Brownson looked first at the
Detroit, and then at the insurgent ships watching the
Alma, and he said,
"You may get an opportunity to-morrow to show —
His speech was cut short by the report of a gun over
in the direction of the city. A cloud of bluish-white
smoke floating above an insurgent tug told whence the
shot had been fired. The tug was about a quarter of a
mile above the Alma, and to Commander Brownson and
Harold she appeared to have fired on that bark. Such,
however, was not the case. Under cover of the gather-
ing dusk a young man with reddish -brown hair had
stolen out of the woods a mile south of the city, and
walked rapidly to the beach. There he took the first boat
he saw, shoved off, and began to row up the bay with
nervous energy. After he had passed Cobras Island it
was evident that he was heading toward the American
bark Alma. He pulled more slowly now, as if his
strength were almost spent. Suddenly a tug steamed out
from behind the island. A rough voice bawled an order
to the rower to pause, but he redoubled his efforts. The
next moment a flash shot out from the side of the tug;
there was a crash; the forward end of the row-boat was
demolished, and the boy found himself in the ill smelling
water. He struggled feebly, for he wasalmost exhausted.
"Help! help!" he cried, and for a few seconds he dis-
appeared beneath the water.
A boat was lowered from the Alma, and pulled rapidly
toward him. But the tug reached the spot first, and the
boy was hauled aboard unconscious.
" Hold on there!" shouted Captain Lockwood, who was
in command of the Alma's boat; "that man's an American
or an Englishman, or lie wouldn't have cried 'Help!'"
"He's safe here," was the answer, as the tug began to
move away.
" But I want to see him."
" You can't do it. We know this man, and we're going
to keep him."
The tug hurried away at full speed, while Captain
Lockwood sat in his boat and looked helplessly after it.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
CLARA'S CHRlSTiMAS TREE.
HERE is my pretty Christmas tree,
All full of pretty things:
Wild animals with shaggy paws,
And birds with glossy wings.
What lovely things are hanging tliei-e
From all parts of the earth:
The peacock with his feathers line,
The monkey with his mirth,
The tiger with the brindled tail,
Tlie snowy cockatoo,
The llying-lish, the elephant,
The deer and kangaroo.
The gilded cornneopia
Is swaying from the bough,
'Mid oranges and candy plums
And paper dolls ; and now
I know it's all because I've been
So good throughout the year
That this my lovely harvest tree
Is bending for me here.
So up my little ladder now
I'll very lively shoot,
To be among the fragrant limbs.
And pick the pretty fruit.
K. K. M.
STORIES OF OUR GOVERNMENT.
A DAY IN THE SENATE.
BY HON. HENRY CABOT LODGE, UNITED STATES SENATOR FROM MASSACHUSETTS.
Senate-chamber is in the northern wing of the
JL Capitol at Washington. Like the House, it is a square
hall, with galleries slanting back to the floor above. It
has a large glass roof and a marked lack of ornament
in its construction, but it is much smaller than the House,
and therefore its proportions are better. If you have just
IN THE STRANGER'S GALLERY.
come over from the House and go directly into the Sen-
ate galleries the difference you will notice most is the
quiet of the Senate as compared with the other branch
of Congress.
This is due to the much smaller membership, and also to
the smaller size of the hall. If you reach there at twelve
o'clock, as you ought in order to get an idea of what a
day in the Senate is, you will see, when the hour of noon
is reached, the Vice President of the United States, who
presides over the Senate, enter with the Chaplain. Then
comes the prayer, and then the Vice-President calls the
Senate to order, and the journal of the proceedings of
the previous day is read. Then conies certain routine
business.
The communications which are sent through the
Vice-President are laid before the Senate. Then the
different Senators offer petitions and memorials, and in-
troduce bills and resolutions. When these formal mat-
ters are disposed of, the Senate under ordinary circum-
stances proceeds to its calendar. Here arises a marked
difference from the House. The House has three calen-
dars, and hardly ever goes to any one of them. The
Senate has but one calendar, which is a list of measures
reported from committees, but it goes to that calendar
constantly, and disposes of matters upon it either in their
order or by Senators calling up any particular bill in
which they are interested by general consent. In this
way the Senate is enabled to transact rapidly a great
deal of small business, and to dispose of bills which it is
not easy to get through the crowded channels of House
legislation.
In the Senate the morning hour ends at two o'clock,
and at that time the calendar is laid aside, and the
Senate proceeds to the consideration of what is known
as the unfinished business— that is, the Senate, by gen-
eral agreement or by majority vote, decides that some
important measure is to be the unfinished business of the
Senate, and when this is done, that measure comes up
every day at two o'clock, until it is disposed of or laid
aside by a new vote.
This brief description really covers the ordinary pro-
cedure of a day in the Senate, and nothing marks more
strongly the difference between the two chambers than
that, in the case of the Senate, it is possible in a few
words to give an idea of its daily work, whereas in the
case of the House it would require a volume almost to
describe fully and accurately its methods of transacting
business.
This difference arises chiefly from the comparative
numbers of the two bodies, from the longer term of ser-
vice of the Senators, and from the difference between the
rules of the two bodies. The House has three hundred
and fifty-six members, and the Senate has eighty-eight,
two from each State. The House members are elected
for only two years; the Senators are elected for six. The
rules of the House are very many and very complicated.
The rules of the Senate are very few and in most cases
very simple.
It is in fact true that the rules of the Senate have lasted
without substantial change for nearly a century, and the
present Senate conducts its business under a system of
rules differing but little from that of the first Senate over
which John Adams presided.
Within the last year every one has heard a great deal
about the rules
of the Senate and
the way in which
business under
them can be re-
tarded. That such
delays exist is due
to the fact that
there is not in
the Senate, as
there is in the
House, any meth-
od of stopping de-
bale.
There are very
grave objections
to having rules
which give no
power to close
debate, and in a
large assembly
like the House,
business would
be impossible if
such a power did
not exist. But
despite the delays
which occur in
the Senate on im-
portant measm-es, it is well to remember that the disad-
vantage is not wholly one way, and it is also well to know
that although the Senate delays, it has never yet failed
to reach a vote upon a measure which the majority desired
to vote upon.
It is also well to remember that the Senate can
CAPTAIN BASSETT, THE ASSISTANT DOOR-
KEEPER AND THE PAGE.
The oldest and youngest members of the Senate.
DECEMBER 25, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
133
A SPEECH THAT EMPTIES THE SENATE.
transact business
with a rapidity
unknown in the
House whenev-
er the necessity
occurs, and that
the power of un-
limited debate
secures an op-
portunity of dis-
cussion which is
very important
for the informa-
tion of the coun-
try,and which is
often wholly lost
in the House.
To the onlook-
er who has come
into the galler-
ies of the Senate
for the first time,
the impression
of quiet, as I have said, is the first thing1 that strikes him.
if he has just been to the House of Representatives. If he
is unlucky in the day he has chosen, he may chance upon
some long speech, which, as it is read,
empties flit- Senate-chamber, and fails
utterly to interest the spectators in the
galleries. But if he is fortunate — and
as it is the practice in the Senate to give
notice whenever a Senator desires to de-
liver a speech it is easy to be fortu-
nate in selecting a day — he may hear
some Senator to whom it is a great plea-
sure to listen, and about whom he has
read and heard a great deal. He will
not fail to hear him, because good order
is maintained in the Senate, and the
motion and talk of the House are not
present here to break in upon his atten-
tion. On the other hand, he may still
be more fortunate, and may arrive at a
time when there is a sharp debate in
progress, and when short speeches are
made by the leaders on both sides. This
is the most interesting of all, and al-
though a debate is likely to spring up
at any time, it is particularly apt to
come just before the vote is taken on
some great measure which interests the
whole country.
It would be more interesting to tell
the history of the Senate than to try to
describe the dry details of its daily
work; but the history of the Senate
would involve an outline of the history
of the United States, and would occupy
volumes instead of pages. It is a body,
however, about which every American
boy and girl ought to know something,
for although second chambers and
upper houses are common in all rep-
resentative governments, the constitu-
tion of the United States Senate is pe-
culiar to this country.
The best efforts of Washington and
Hamilton and Madison, and the other
great men who framed our Constitu-
tion, were devoted to the clauses by
which the Senate was constituted. The
States of our Union are represented in
the Senate, and the Senators are given
long terms in order to insure caution, safety, and con-
tinuity in our legislation. The Senate has almost as
large powers of law making as the House, and it also
has executive powers, for it shares with the President
in the appointment of officers of the government, and in
making ti-eaties with foreign nations. It has played a
great part in our history, and there is perhaps no better
way of understanding what that part has been than to
notice the list of men who have served as Senators. Of
our twenty-three Presidents, fifteen either served in the
Senate or presided over its deliberations, although, curi-
ously enough, no Senator in actual service has ever been
chosen to the Presidency. It was in the Senate that
Clay and Webster, Benton and Calhoun, Douglas and
Sumner, won their greatest honors; while Seward and
Elaine added service in the Senate to achievements in
other fields of public life. These are only a few of the
eminent men whose names we find by glancing at the
Senate roll, but these show that the Senate has been the
great prize of American public life, and that within its
walls the greatest reputations have been won or main-
tained. To every one who studies American history, as
every boy and girl ought to do, the Senate has a par-
ticular interest, and its great importance in our public
life and in the government of our countrv, ought to be
understood.
THE UNITED STATES SENATE IN SESSION.
134
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
A MAGNIFICENT SCHEME.
HE was a tiny little lad, hut IK- \v:is full of schemes.
He. wasn't greed\ . l>ut In- had the most ambitions
dreams.
He- wanteil every other child to have all sorts of toys,
And never en\ ied any of the nther little boys.
But as he thought of Christmas-time, and all the joys it
brings,
And pondered o'er the hundred and the thousand lovely
things
He thought he'd like old Santa Clans to leave when he should
call,
It filled him full of misery, his stocking was so small.
"He cannot get a quarter of the things I want therein!
My stockings are not very long, and, oh, my legs are thin !
I wonder what I'd better do — the stockings will not stretch ;
They will not hold a hundredth part of what I hope he'll
fetch'."
And then he asked his mamma on what clay old Santa'd
come,
And when she said "On Tuesday," he just bit his little
thumb,
And said : " Ha ! ha ! That's drying-day : I've got a little plan :
I'll go and see the. laundress." said this funny little man.
"I'll tell her that 1 sort of think she ought to string a line
From mantel-pieec to window in that nursery of mine,
And hang the stuekin^s that. 1 wore last week— just seven
pair —
I'liou it, so's old Santa will observe 'em when he's there!"
half, and on one side paint chrysanthemums, morning-glories, or
any flower you may choose. Then cut the thin white paper, or
paper the color of the flower you prefer, of the exact size and
shape of the mat. Lay the sheets evenly together, fold them
also midway, slip a ribbon through the centre, and tie them into
place. Attach a second ribbon, handsomer and wider, at each
end of the ease, as the illustration shows, and tie it so as to form
a loop finished with a full bow.
A SIMPLE CASE FOR SHAVING-PAPERS.
ALMOST every girl wants to make, a gift for her father or
big brother or both. If any of these gentlemen shave, the
task becomes an extremely simple one. Shaving-papers are
sure to be in demand, and sure to need constant replenishing, so
that even the question of their being already supplied ueed not
hamper you in this case.
The device shown in the drawing is quite new, and is really
very attractive as a bit of decoration, besides which it is very
easy to make. Almost all of yon can paint flowers, if nothing
more. If any cannot, they must choose some other gift, but for
those who can and do this one has much to commend it.
At any shop devoted to the sale of Japanese goods, buy a me-
dium-sized bambno table mat. Von will rind that there are sev-
eral sorts, some much ornamented, others little. For your pur-
pose select the plainest of all, one which shows only the bam-
boo and the necessary connect ing rows of twine.
When you have carried your treasure home fold it just in
THE LITTLE RED BOOK.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND.
CHAPTER IV.
IT was the night of the play. In Eleanor's little room
Mrs. Rogers was putting the finishing touches to her
toilet. The young girl looked very pretty in her white
ball dress, which had been made for the occasion from
an old gown of her mother's.
It was covered with spangles, which glittered and
gleamed in the light for all the world like real diamonds,
Eleanor said. How they laughed when Mrs. Eogers
fastened on the wig! ,
" I don't, feel as if you were my own daughter," said
she. '' You must be somebody else's child !"
"Oh. mamma, don't say that even in fun !" cried Elea-
nor, casting herself into her mother's arms, greatly to
the detriment of her large sleeves and delicate frills and
ruffles. "I can't imagine anything more terrible than to
be somebody else's child! You are just the most perfect
mother that anybody ever had in the world. But tell
me, mamma, how does the wig really look? Do you
think it will stay on all right? Wouldn't it be dreadful
if it were to come off! I should be so mortified I should
want to sink through the floor. How perfect it would
be to have golden hair like this always growing out of
my head!"
"I am quite satisfied with my little brown-haired
daughter as she really is,'' said Mrs. Rogers, smiling at
her affectionately; " but I must confess that the new top-
knot is very becoming. I am afraid you are very much
excited, dear, your eyes are so bright, and you have SO
much color."
"Oh no, mamma, I'm not a bit excited! I'm as calm
as — as — a waterfall. Oh no! that isn't calm, is it? A
summer sea! Where are my gloves? And now, mam-
ma, my old cinder dress must go on over all my grand-
eur. It is a shame, isn't it? I feel exactly like a cater-
pillar that is going to burst out and be a butterfly."
Her mother put on her the loose cloaklike arrangement
of brown gingham that was to serve as Cinderella's first
costume. It was made with large loose sleeves that but-
toned tightly about the wrist, and it reached to the
ground. The upper part only was fastened, the skirt
having no opening; but the whole was arranged in such
a way that by slipping one or two buttons it would
readily fall to the floor.
Over the little silver slippers Eleanor wore a pair of
large cloth over-shoes, that could easily be kicked off at
the proper moment.
As she stood before her mother in the dingy brown
garment it was hard to realize that it was the radiant
airy creature that had flashed and glittered in the lamp-
light a moment ago. Only the golden hair and the
merry brown eyes remained the same. The metamor-
phosis was complete.
" There is the Brewsters' carriage!" exclaimed Eleanor,as
the sound of wheels was heard. "Just as I am all ready.
I am so sorry Mrs. Brewster is in Boston and can't be
here to see us. Now, mamma, do get there early so as to
find a good seat. I want you to be right up in front.
Good-by, you dear darling!"
DECEMBER 25, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
135
And with a parting kiss. Cinderella ran down stairs.
She was so excited and happy that for the time she com-
pletely forgot her falling out with Madge, and the trouble
to which it had given rise. She was sure that Bertha
had sent the letter to her, and she supposed that Madge
was also connected with it. Naturally she felt very
sore about it. Next to her mother Eleanor loved Madge
better than any one in the world. She had thought since
the receipt of the letter that she could take no further
interest in the theatricals. It was nothing but torture to
go and rehearse a part that Madge wished to be, and it
would be even worse to act it when the time came. But
the hearty cordiality of the rest of the company and Ruth
Barnes's determined action had comforted her, and if she
had stopped to think of it she would have been astonished
to find how much she was enjoying the fun, now that the
exciting evening had actually arrived.
That day in school, during recess, Madge and Bertha
had walked to their favorite tree in the upper part of the
grounds. To say that they had walked there but feebly
expresses it. They had run as fast as they could go in
order to secure the coveted place before any one else
should get there. It was the favorite spot for talking
secrets, as there was no possibility of being overheard,
the approach being in full view. The tree stood alone,
as if growing solely for the purpose of affording a shelter
for whispering school girls. So Madge and Bertha took
possession to-day, and Madge at once proceeded to de-
mand a release from her promise.
" I want to talk it over with mamma," said she. "I
do think, Bertha, you might let me. Mamma is very
fond of Eleanor, and I think she ought to know it."
"Madge Barnes, I never heard of such a thing! You
sha'n't tell her a word about it. You promised solemnly."
" But, Bertha, it wouldn't do any harm to tell mamma."
" If you tell her I'll tell everybody I know that
Eleanor Rogers is adopted, and came out of an orphan
asylum. I'll tell Eleanor herself. I'll —
"Oh, stop!" cried Madge, "I won't tell. But I do
think you're awfully mean, Bertha Weld ! And if you
ever do tell Eleanor, or any one else, I'll never speak to
you again. Never!"
"Oh, very well, you needn't. But you want to tell it
yourself to some one, even if it is your own mother.
What is the object of telling her? As far as I'm con-
cerned there is no reason why she should know it any
more than any one else. It's my secret, and I'm not
going to have any one know it unless I choose to tell it."
The school-bell rang, and they went back to the house.
Madge's manner was so cool that Bertha feared she had
said too much. It would be just like Madge to change
again and be friends with Eleanor. If she did, Bertha
would pay them both up. that was all.
The truth was that Madge was beginning to tire of
Bertha's uninterrupted companionship. She missed Elea-
nor, and she was ready to " make up." After all, Eleanor
had really done the right thing in going home that day.
Madge wished she had done the same. If she had she
would not have discovered the fatal entry of July 20th
in the diary, and perhaps Bertha would not have 'found
it. If only Mrs. Brewster had not dropped the book how
much better it all would have been !
. So Madge drove to the Athenaeum that evening with
very different feelings from those that had filled her heart
for several days before.
There were a number of girls in the dressing-room
when she and her sister arrived; among them, Bertha
dressed as the Cruel Sister, in a fine green silk gown that
belonged to her aunt; and Eleanor in her brown robe, in
which to sit among the ashes.
Madge walked up to her. "Halloa, Nell, you look per-
fectly sweet in that wig!" Then she whispered in her
ear: " Nell, I've been perfectly hateful. I'm sorry."
Eleanor looked at her. She could scarcely believe her
eai-s. It was so very unusual for Madge to say that she
was sorry, or to admit in any way that she had been in
the wrong. Then the brown eyes suddenly grew very
happy.
"Oh, Madge, don't say anything more about it. I've
missed you terribly. But just tell me one thing. Did
you write the letter.'"
"No; of course I didn't. Bertha told me she was
going to do something to get the part for me, but I didn't
know what it was, or I wouldn't have let her do it."
" Oh, I am so glad!" said Eleanor, in a tone of relief.
" Of course I knew Bertha was at the bottom of it, and I
was so afraid you had something to do with it too. But
there is Ruth beckoning to us. Madge, you look lovely
in that pink dress!"
Bertha had heard the first remark that Madge made,
and though the girls afterwards spoke too low for her to
distinguish what they said, she could readily imagine
what it was. She even thought she caught the sound of
her own name. It was perfectly evident that Madge was
" making up."
Her heart burned within her, and she felt more than
ready to enact the part of the Cruel Sister. "I'll pay
her up for this," she murmured. "I'll get ahead of
Eleanor yet."
Poor Bertha! She had not many friends, and she did
not want to lose Madge again. If there had only been
some one to tell her what a wrong course she was taking !
The curtain rose, and the play began. Cinderella is
discovered sitting among- the ashes, wishing that she, too,
could go to the ball. Presently the two Cruel Sisters en-
ter, arrayed in their finery and demanding the assistance
of the little cinder-wench. They depart full of anticipa-
tion, and leave the little one in tears because of their un-
kind speeches.
There is a whizzing, whirring noise, and from the
chimney, in a most mysterious manner, steps the Fairy
Godmother — a little old woman in a tall "sugar-loaf"
hat and a short red petticoat, carrying a silver wand.
She bids Cinderella dry her eyes and go to the ball.
She waves her wand three times, the brown gingham
gown drops to the floor, and Cinderella emerges in all
the splendor of gala attire, stepping daintily out of the
overshoes in dainty gleaming slippers. The sound of
prancing steeds and the shouts of coachman and foot-
man— in fact, a whole retinue of servants — are hoard
without, and the curtain falls amid the applause of the
audience.
When it rises again the scene has changed. It is now
the brilliantly lighted ball-room. Beautifully dressed
guests are moving about, the King and Queen sit on a
throne at the head of the room, the Prince opens the ball
with one of the Cruel Sisters.
Suddenly a report is spread that a beautiful and un-
known Princess has arrived. A herald announces her.
The Prince, when he sees her, impolitely leaves the
Cruel Sister standing in the middle of the room, and flies
to the side of the new and mysterious beauty. Hence-
forth he will dance with none but her.
The clock begins to strike. Cinderella flies from the
room, and disappears with the final stroke of twelve,
leaving her slipper behind her. (The funny part of it
was that the slipper, being a rather close fit, refused !u
come off, so Eleanor had to stoop down, push it half off,
and then give it a kick back into the centre of the stage.
Of course every one laughed, and enjoyed the scene far
more than if the shoe had been dropped in orthodox Cin-
derella fashion.)
Thus far all had gone smoothly and well, and Ruth
Barnes was entirely satisfied with the success of the per-
formance. Tlie next scene was again that of Cinder-
ella's home, and the Cruel Sisters were discussing the
136
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
CINDERELLA EMERGES IN ALL HER SPLENDOR.
ball of tin- night before, and the mysterious beauty who
had vanished as suddenly as she had appeared, leaving
only her slipper to tell the tale.
Then a herald approached, who announced that the
Prince would marry whomsoever the slipper should fit.
and finally the Prince himself, followed by a number of
attendants, entered and proceeded to try on the shoe.
Each. sister had vainly attempted to squeeze her foot
into it, and it was now Cinderella's turn. Bertha, as
one of the sisters, had to say, "What right have you, a
mere cinder-wench, to aspire to be a Princess?"
In addition to the remark she walked up to Cinderella,
and seizing her hair, gave il a sharp twitch. Off canie
the beautiful golden wig. and was held aloft in Bertha's
hand, while poor little Cinderella was left with the close-
ly cropped locks of Eleanor Rogers.
For a moment there was silence. Then every one be-
gan to laugh. Louder and louder rose the mirth, in
which actors too were forced to join. Bertha looked,
triumphant. She had accomplished her object.
For one moment Eleanor was silent. She felt as she
told her mother voiiKl be the case if her wig were to
come off. She would like to sink through the floor.
Then her courage rose, and her ready wit came to her
assistance. She turned to Bertha as soon as the laughter
had somewhat subsided, and she, could be heard sa3ring,
"Oh, sister, you have pulled all my hair out by the
roots! But I have a fairy godmother. She will make it
grow again."
The G-od mother emerged from the chimney, seized the
wig from Bertha's hand, and waving her wand. said.
"Grow, hair, and make Cinderella more
beautiful than ever."
The wig was quickly put back in its
proper position, the gingham gown again
fell off, and Cinderella stood before them
in all the beauty of the previous even-
ing, drawing the mate to the slipper from
her pocket.
After all, the unpleasant little incident
had turned out very well ; but those on the
stage scorned Bertha for the unkind trick,
while they admired Eleanor all the more
for the quick way in which she had risen
to the occasion. The audience thought it
was part of the play, and it did not cause
any delay in the progress of the theatricals.
Ruth Barnes was very angry. She had
but a moment, for she was to act in the
second play, and no time could be lost;
but her words, though few. were to the
point.
"You have done a most contemptible
thing," she said, "and every one shall
know of it."
Bertha was frightened. She had evi-
dently gone a trifle too far.
"I did not know it would come oft' so
easily," she exclaimed. "I — 1 was only
pulling her hair just as the cruel sister did
in the story."
But Ruth had walked away, not deigning to listen to
her excuses.
Bertha continued to loudly disclaim having had any
intention of really pulling off the wig. She went
about from one to the other.
"Wasn't it dreadful?" she said. "Who ever would
have dreamed of its actually coming off!"
But the3" looked at her doubtfully, and Bertha knew
it. Madge refused to speak to her at, all.
"Mean old thing!" she said to Eleanor, quite audi-
bly. "I am never going to have another thing to do
with her."
Bertha heard her, and it was the finishing stroke.
"I'll punish her. I'll punish them both!" she said to
herself, vindictively. Then she turned and approached
a group of girls in the dressing-room.
"I am so sorry that happened," she said. "I would
rather have had it happen to any one but Eleanor Rog-
ers, for I am so sorry for her. Have you heard about
her?"
" No. What is it?" asked one or two.
" Why, haven't you heard?" returned Bertha, in tones
of great surprise. "It is said that she isn't Mrs. Rogers's
real daughter at all, but only adopted, and she doesn't
know it."
" Why, Bertha Weld, where did you ever hear such a
thing as that? Who told you?" cried May Brewster.
" Never mind \\lio told me," said Bertha, nodding her
head wisely, with an air of great mystery, "but it was
some *me who knows all about it, and it's true. She
came from an orphan asylum. But hush! Here she
comes."
As Eleanor drew near with Madge an awed silence fell
upon the group, and they looked wouderingly at her.
She did not notice it, however.
"Come out in front, girls, and watch the other play.
There are reserved seats for us, "she said.
Then they joined the audience, and Eleanor, sitting by
her mother, was soon absorbed in what was taking place
on the stage. Neither of them noticed the many curious
glances that were directed towards them by the half-
dozen girls who had been talking with Bertha Weld.
[TO II K roMINUED.]
UNEXPECTED RESCUERS.
BY CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS.
TI1HE following is one of many stories told by a great-
_L uncle of my mother, one Benjamin Bliss, a ship-mas-
ter of New Bedford, who died in 1867 at the ripe age of
ninety-three. The old seaman was garrulous, so I have
condensed his narrative and divested it of its curious dic-
tion ; but at the same time I have allowed him (as he
would certainly prefer if lie could be consulted) to speak
in his own person.
It was in the last year of the eighteenth century, and
I was first mate in the Laughing Sally.
On our second voyage to the Gulf of Guinea we found
it hard to pick up the kind of cargo we wanted. At
last, one calm night, as we were lying off Cape Palmas,
with little puffs of air coming off-shore every minute or
two as hot as if from the mouth of a furnace, the Captain
stepped up to me in my watch and said,
"Ben, we've got to do something or other to get a
cargo."
"What's to be done?" said I; though I knew very well
what was in his mind.
" If we can't get white ivory, we'll have to put up with
black," answered Captain Bill. " \Vf'll run down to
Cameroons and take in a cargo for Charleston."
"It ain't for me to say anything, one way or the oth-
er," said I, " when I know there's better men than I'll ever
be who think it's all right to hold slaves, and buy slaves,
and sell slaves. But I'm free to confess I don't like it.
Seems to me they're men, same as we are, and ought to
have their rights. Furthermore, I kind of don't like to
see the Sally all messed up with blackbirds. It ain't a
nice cargo for gentlemen to handle."
"Oh," said Captain Bill, with a little laugh, "don't
worry about the Sally. She's been in that business he-
fore, as you'd have noticed by the way she's fixed up in
the hold if you had ever been in the business."
" Well, Captain," said I. very respectfully, "I've said
my say, and I know my business, which is to obey orders.
But don't think hard of me if I give notice that after this
voyage I won't be able to ship again on the Salli/."
" I'll be sorry if you stick to that, Ben," said the Cap-
tain, earnestly. "And I don't want you to misunder-
stand me about this business. I reckon I feel much the
same as you do about it, and if I had my way there
wouldn't be any slave trade."
A fair wind blew up the next day, and we made so
quick a run that the hands all declared the Laugh-
ing Sally wanted blackbirds. We ran up the wide
estuary of the Cameroons River, and cast anchor oil I lie
mangrove fringes of the island on which rose the stock-
ades and trading-houses of the town of Cameroons, fa-
mous for its traffic in slaves and pepper.
The barrucoons were crowded, reeking, intolerable.
Having described these scenes of horror, or attempted to
describe them, in earlier pages of these memoirs, I will
•WE ARE NOT JACKALS," SAID THE LEADER, "TO RUN. ...WHEN THE ENEMY APPROACHES."
138
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
not dwell upon them now. Suffice to say, I no longer
regretted the Captain's decision, but only wished the
Sally were ;i bigger ship, in order that we might carry
oil' a larger number of the unhappy wretches lo an ex-
istence less unendurable than that of the barracoons.
I helped the Captain in making his selections, and
most of the blacks we chose were young men of the or-
dinary negro type. But in one of the stockades I found
a score of tall and powerful figures shackled to the walls,
defiant in their misery. Their great stature, proud bear-
ing, well-cut noses, and more jetty hue of their skins,
showed them to be of a different stock from the tamer
captives about them. These were no mere victims of the
slave-hunter, but warriors overpowered in some wild bat-
tle far inland.
Captain Bill was determined that the Sally shouhln 't
be crowded, as I have already said; so he didn't take
what a regular slaver would have called half a cargo.
He was also determined that the Sally should be toler-
ably clean. The darkies were taken aboard in small
squads, and each squad, as it left the filthy barracoons,
was marched straight down into the water and compelled
to take a thorough bath. The Cameroons traders thought
we were crazy, but Captain Bill knew what he was about.
As for those, big warriors of mine, they gave us a peck
of trouble. It seemed as if all they wanted was a chance
to kill somebody and then get killed themselves. We
kept such a sharp eye on them they didn't succeed in do-
ing any great damage, but when it came to giving them
their bath, which we did by taking them along two at a
time, they tried to drown themselves by falling down in
the water and holding on to the weeds of the bottom with
their teeth. For all their tantrums, however, our men
handled them kindly enough, according to my strict or-
ders, and I reckon they were rather surprised at such
gentle treatment. When they found themselves safely
aboard the Sally, and fed and watered without being-
kicked or beaten, they quieted down a lot and became
more manageable.
In less than a week even my big warriors subsided
into a sullen sort of lazy indifference, and submitted to
their daily bath without a struggle. Every day I spoke
to them in such of the coast dialects as I could com-
mand, but for a long while could not make out whether
I was understood or not, till at last one. who seemed the
proudest of them, condescended to reply in the Ashan-
tee language, which he spoke with difficulty. He said
that he was a chief in the country beyond the great
river (which I took to mean the Congo), and that his
tribe had been utterly destroyed in a terrible war. He
said he had made many slaves himself in his day. and
now his own turn had come, but that he would not long
remain a slave in the land we were taking him to. He
and his brethren would soon make their escape into the
woods. But he promised that now, because I had treated
them kindly, they would make no trouble in the ship if
I would ease their fetters and give the same freedom that
the other captives enjoyed. After consulting the Cap-
tain and obtaining his permission, I agreed to this, and I
found the tall chief as good as his word. The warriors
from beyond the great river had evidently made up their
minds that nothing could be done for freedom until they
should once more find themselves on dry land.
When we were in latitude 8° N., bowling merrily
northward with a stiff breeze from the east, we sighted a
sail to starboard. At first we paid the stranger little at-
tention; but presently observing that she had changed
her course and was standing directly toward us, we grew
a bit uneasy. We held on as we were, however, for the
better part of an hour, while Captain Bill, with bis glass
at his eye, watched her narrowly. She was a barken-
tiue, low in the hull, with a great rake to her masts, and
carrying' a pile of canvas
''Let's show her our colors!'' said Captain Bill to me.
I gave the order, and the Stars and Stripes streamed out
from the Sally'* masthead. But the stranger made no
response.
" I don't like the look of her at all," remarked the Cap-
tain presently, and he handed me the glass.
"She's got a gait," said I, " but I reckon we can show
her our heels if she's dangerous."
" Not on this point. I'm thinking." replied the Captain,
taking the glass again. In another moment he shut the
glass with a snap, and began roaring his orders in a voice
that made us all skip. In less than no time the Laugh-
ing Sally was running free before the wind, shaking her
head as if she had got the bit in her teeth, and dashing
great clouds of spray from under her counter. Not a
word of explanation did Captain Bill vouchsafe till the
stunsails were run out and the Sally was staggering
under every rag she could carry. Staggering, did I say?
No, living like a bird. The stranger altered her course,
and came on after us, running out a big spinnaker that
fairly seemed to lift her out of the water.
"I calculate," said Captain Bill, as he watched the
progress of our pursuer, "that that there barkentine is
no other than the Black Meg. And if so, why. she can
lick the Sally both at fighting and running. But with
this breeze back of us she ain't going to overtake us
quid'. I'm thinking."
" What metal does she carry?" I inquired.
"Broadside enough to blow us out of the water," said
Captain Bill, "if she gets a chance to use it. But I've
heard her bow pivot ain't heavier than ours. I reckon
we might make shift to move our long Tom aft, and
take a few shots at that rascal's rigging."
I sprang forward to superintend the moving of the
gun. while Evans, the second mate, with three or four of
the crew, fetched up the muskets and cutlasses and
served out the ammunition. All this preparation went
on in a grim, determined silence that meant business.
It was a slow job getting the long 18-pounder into its
new position, and meanwhile the pirate was gradually
reducing his distance. Presently the black Hag flut-
tered to his peak.
"Now we'll hear from Spanish Joe!" exclaimed the
( 'aplain, cheerfully. The words were scarcely out of his
mouth when a puff of white smoke veiled the Black
Mi'i/'ft bows, and a round shot ricochetted past the Sally
some fifteen fathoms to starboard.
"Hurry up, boys," cried the Captain, "and we'll try
and show 'em some better shooting than that."
Four shots the pirate fired before we were ready to
reply, but only the fourth came aboard. It carried away
a stanchion and knocked out a piece of the bulwark, but
did no further damage. The attack was at long' range,
and was evidently made in the hope of checking our
flight by a lucky shot. Spanish Joe was probably as-
tonished at the Sally's speed.
When the long 18-pounder was at last in position and
loaded, Captain Bill trained her himself. Very deliber-
ately he sighted her. calculating the pitching of the ship,
and just at the right moment he fired. It was a lucky
shot It caught the boom of the spinnaker, and to our
delight we saw the great sail collapse. Our crew broke
into a cheer, and Captain Bill remarked:
" That takes some of the legs otV her. She won't crawl
up on the Sally quite so quick now."
This was true. Without the spinnaker the Black Meg
could just about hold the Sally even before the wind.
For the next half hour or so there was no perceptible
change in the relative positions of the two ships, and the
shots that were exchanged did no damage to speak of on
either side.
" How's this thing going to end, anyway?" said I to the
Captain, quietly, while the gun was being loaded.
DECEMBER 25, 1394.
HAPtPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
139
"Oil," said he "I'm thinking we may possibly pull
through if the Sally's luck stands by her."
"How?" I asked. "Within the next ten minutes
we'll sight the coast of Venezuela dead ahead; and next
thing, at this rate, we'll be on it. There it is now!"
"Port!" yelled Captain Bill at once. "Keep her
away two points." Then turning again to me, he said:
"We're heading now for one of the mouths of the Orino-
co. I used to know the navigation of it well. It has a
bar which I reckon we can pass, but yon scoundrel draws
too much water for it, I'm thinking. Once past the bar,
the channel's deep enough, so we can run as far inland
as we like, and slip out by another mouth."
My hopes rose considerably at this. The immediate
danger was that a shot from the Black Meg might fetch
one of our spars, and so disable us that we would be over-
taken before gaining our hoped-for refuge.
"Captain," said I, "instead of aiming at the rigging,
let us fire at the big gun."
With a nod of assent the Captain proceeded once more
to train our trusty weapon on the foe. Eagerly we
watched him as he fired. The shot passed within about six
feet of the pirate's gun, and crashed into his forecastle.
"You'll fetch it next time, Captain," cried Evans, en-
thusiastically. And our gun crew made haste to swab
out and load again.
"I'm thinking I've got the range down pretty fine
now," said Captain Bill, and as he tired the next shot he
smiled amiably.
As the smoke blew off to starboard our crew broke
into cheers. The enemy's gun carriage was shattered to
fragments, and the dangerous gun was no longer in view.
Every one on the Sally was jubilant.
About eight bells in the afternoon we found ourselves
well inshore and close on the bar, the Captain in the
bow scanning- the water narrowly. It was an anxious
moment for all. If we should run aground, we were
done. The Black Meg could come up and give us her
broadsides, and then take her time about finishing us.
But Captain Bill never hesitated. The Sally raced on,
cleared the bar without a g-i-ate, and we found ourselves
in a spacious channel between low dense- wooded shores.
Straight ahead we steered, but not liow so fast as in the
open, for the ebb tide combined with the current of the
stream to retard us, and the pirate began to creep up on
us perceptibly, till his bow gun found our range. By
this time he was getting so near the bar that we began
to fear the Captain had made a mistake, and we were in
a trap. But no. Suddenly there was a movement in
our pursuer's sails. Gracefully the beautiful but evil-
looking craft came about, and in a very few minutes she
was lying to just outside the bar. Ten minutes later we
rounded a curve of the stream, and nothing of the pirate
remained in view except her topmasts. The Captain
gave the order to shorten sail, as the channel was get-
ting intricate, and the Sally went on for half an hour
at a more deliberate pace. We were just congratulating
ourselves on being so well out of the scrape, when all at
once the Sally stag'gered, stopped, heeled over, and with
a crash her mainmast, with its great weight of canvas,
went by the board. We had run aground.
This was a desperate calamity, but there was 110 con-
fusion. In a twinkling all canvas was taken in, and the
wreck was cleared away. Then the Captain held a con-
sultation with Evans and me. As far as the accident
was concerned, that was no fault of his. The channel
had shifted. But what was to be done? The masts of
the pirate were still visible to us, and we knew that our
predicament would soon be quite clear to him. Then he
would send out his men in boats to attack us, and small
chance would our handful stand against them. Should
we stay and fight, or would we take the boats and en-
deavor to escape up the river?
" It's next thing to cutting our own throats, I'm think-
ing," said Captain Bill; "but if you gentlemen are
agreed, I'm for fighting, and for blowing up the Sally
at last, if necessary."
" I'm with you, Captain!" exclaimed Evans and I. both
at once.
"And what'll the crew say to this plan?" asked Evans.
" Bless you, don't I know every man of them?" replied
Captain Bill. "It's just what they want. Do you sup-
pose they're going to skip out and leave their little bun-
dles of ivory and dust to those fellows?"
"And what about the poor creatures down in our
hold '." I asked.
" Well," said the Captain, " we've got to lose on that
trade, and we'll be the luckiest crowd that ever sailed out
of New Bedford if we don't lose everything, and our
nocks too. We'll set the nigs all free, and let them take
to the woods. There's lots of fruit in the woods, and if
we give them a few barrels of biscuit they'll be able to
take care of themselves."
There was no time to lose, as the slaves were to be
cleared out before the approach of the pirates. I went
into the hold to explain to them what they were to do.
They had been wildly excited during the chase and the
firing, and at first I had some difficulty in making my-
self comprehended. First I told them that if the pirates
who were chasing us succeeded in capturing us they
would kill most of the slaves and sell the rest in Cuba,
which would be as bad as the barracoons, if not worse.
But when I made them understand that they were all to
go free to land, and be slaves no longer, they were crazy
with delight. Turning to my tall warriors, I told them
to take the rest in charge, and help us get them out of the
way before the fight. From the way those fellows went
to work it was plain to .see that they were used to posi-
tions of command.
First we sent off the women and children, and then
the men, in boatload after boatload. The blacks them-
selves did all the work — but not those big warriors. They
only superintended, and got a lot more out of the workers
than we could. When the last load was going off, with
the provisions, and a few muskets and cutlasses which we
thought they might be trusted with, I was astonished to
see my big chief, followed by ten of his brethren, ap-
proach, with many gestures of humility and submission,
very different from their ordinary haughty bearing. He
explained that since we had given him and his brethren
their freedom, and made them all men again, and treated
them kindly, they knew we were their friends.
"We are not jackals," said their leader, " to run and
hide in the woods when the enemy approaches. Give
us arms, and we will fight at your side like brothers,
and never give back one foot as long as we remain
alive."
I grasped the speaker's hand, and explained his offer to
the Captain and crew. These were no mean addition to
our strength, as they would be superb in a hand-to-hand
conflict, and we could see that they were fighters, every
inch of them. We had no hesitation in trusting them.
Captain Bill declaring that he knew the breed. We
armed them with our heaviest broadswords, which they
handled lovingly, and their eyes began to glow like live
coals as they drew themselves up and once more sniffed
battle. They were put under my direct command, as I
was the only one who could communicate with them.
The spot where the Laughing Sally had run aground,
unfortunately, was just beyond a small island in mid-
river, which shut out all view of the channel below. We
knew that the pirates would take full advantage of this,
and dart upon us in their boats from both sides at once.
There would be no time to give them more than one shot
from each of our three cannon. Still, we made up our
minds that these should count for something. We trained
140
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
the two 6 -pounders on one end of the island around
which the enemy would appear, and the faithful long
Tom, double-shotted, we directed upon the other channel.
< ';i plain Bill was not without experience in war by land
ns well as by sea.
It was but a few minutes we had to wait ere the pirates
were upon us. Their boats darted around both ends of
the island at once. Our cannon roared, but two of the
shots went low, struck the water, and bounded clear over
the enemy. Tiie third shattered a boat and crew. The
next instant the pirates were swarming' on all sides over
our bulwarks, and the fierce struggle that followed seems
to me now like a confused dream, filled with shouts and
breathless effort, and everywhere those black Samsons
fighting like heroes. It seemed at last, however, that the
battle was going against us; but suddenly there arose a
series of yells all around the ship, and a throng of ne-
groes came tumbling over the bulwarks. Some in the
boat, some on logs, some swimming, they had thrust out
from shore to our rescue, led by those big warriors who
had been put in charge of them. A few were armed with
cutlasses, the rest with clubs and branches merely; but
their coming decided the day in a twinkling, and the pi-
rates seemed to melt from the Sally's deck, so swiftly
sped they over the side into their boats, and away.
To our black allies our gratitude knew no bounds. We
gave them all the biscuit, beef, muskets, and ammunition
that we could spare, and we offered to take my big war-
riors back to Africa on our next voyage. But they pre-
ferred to stay in the new land. When the Sally was
sufficiently repaired we sailed on up the river till we en-
tered a new and larger channel, then out of the Orinoco,
and down the coast to Paramaribo for a new mainmast.
And of the Black Meg we saw no more.
PAPA'S ROD.
a Christmas BMag In Gbrcc a c t e.
BY MARGARET BUTTON BRISCOE.
CHARACTERS:
PAPA. MAMMA. Ton, an only son.
MIU.Y and JKNNY, his small sisters
ACT I.
// Christinas tree half decorated. The remaining decorations stn //•
the floor. A small table set with a supper tray stands at -right.
Milly and Jenny discovered at left playing with tin ir dolls.
Mi//// (lai/ing her dull in its crib and rocking it). We must hurry.
7V///, —Cliristnias i n-. The curtain rises on a children's ni/rsery. Jenny, or supper will he quite cold. Isn't your child in hed ye'l?
A door at right, a semnd door at left. In the background stands I've put mine to bed, and she's almost asleep.
Jenny (slipping on her doll's niffht
dnss). My eliild has been so naughty
to-night! Her arms are all elbows, and
won't go into the sleeves. I'm afraid
she's been listening to Tom. What
does make Tom so naughty, Milly?
Mil/i/. I'm sure I don't know. Some-
times I'm glad my child's ears are
stopped with wax so that she can't hear
everything lie says.
•!> n ny (laying her doll in its cradle
anil nicking it. sings) —
Hush-a-bye, don't you cry.
Go to sleep, little baby.
Horses gray, black, and hay,
All for you. little baby.
Now rny child's asleep, and I'm ready
for supper.
Mill/1. Lay all the baby clothes
straight, dear, while I pour out the
tea.
[Milly mores to the tea-table, while
Jenny folds the baby clothes neat-
ly. A l'»id stamping is heard.
Jenny. Oh, 1 hear Tom coming!
Milly. Hide the babies, Jenny —
quick! He's so bad to ihem.
[Jenny drairs a light screen about
the dolls' cradles, and hurries to
her plane at table.
Enter Tom by right entrance. lie
Jlings his cap on the floor, and drags
a chair to the table.
Milly and Jenny. Good - evening,
Tom.
Tom (roughly). Even'. Where's my
tea?
[lie takes up tin- en/i Milly offers
him. tastes the cmili nts, makes a
face of disgust, and leans over the
table fur the sugar-bowl.
Mill;/. Oh, Tom, wait! You almost
upset the tray'. I'll give you some
sugar.
'/I////. Some! 1 know your sums.
They're all short additions, they are.
You give me that sugar-bowl!
Milly (passing a spoon with the bowl).
Here's a spoon, Tom, that you can
use.
Tii-m. I don't want any spoon.
^^^^^H [He pours the sugar into his cup
I HEAR TOM COMING!" from t lie bold.
DECEMBER 25, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
141
. Jenny. Oh, you took as much as
ten spoonfuls, and Mamma says only
two.
Tom. Well, then, I'm taking less than
she said, for I didn't use a spoon at
all; so you measure me two more
good spoonfuls. Milly.
Milly. Tom, I won't. You'll be sick.
Tom. You do as I tell you. or I'll
bleed your dollies. Where are they,
anyhow?
[He glance* aroundthe room.
Mil!// (quickly). Here's the sugar,
Tom, and here's the jam too, and some
nice cold bread and butter.
'Finn (mimicking). Nice cold fiddle-
sticks! You know it's nasty, or you
wouldn't say nice. You never say
nice cold ice-cream, do you?
Milly. Don't eat with your fingers,
Tom. '
Tom. I will, just because I hate
nursery suppers. I'm old enough to
go to the dinner-table and eat what I
want. Jo Bootblack eats anything lie-
wants, and he can knock me into the
middle of next week. He laid me out
flat on the pavement just now.
Mil/-!/. Then that's what makes you
so cross. Tom, you know Mamma
doesn't like you to fight.
Tom. Is she going to come out and
settle my disputes for me? Some-
body's got to. Jo's mother, she licks
him if lie doesn't lick the other boy.
That's some sense, that is. I wish my
folks had as much sense as Jo's.
Milly and, fi -n.1,1/. Oh, Tom! Tom!
Tom. Well, I do. Where are those
doll babies? I'll bet they haven't been
spanked to-day.
Jenny (half crying). You sha'n't
whip in}1 baby, Tom. I won't have it.
How would you like to be whipped?
Tom. Huh! I'd like to see anybody
try to wkip me. Even father wouldn't
dare to. Here he comes now. Don't
you tell him I said that, or I'll wring
your babies' heads off.
'Enter by left entrance Papa and Mam-
ma, liiili-u irith packages of all shapes
and sizes.
Papa. Christmas gifts! Christmas
gifts!
[The three children crowd around,
feeling the packages and laugh-
ing.
Mamma:. Be off with you! These
are not to be opened till Christmas
night. Take away the tea-tray, Milly,
and let us pile the presents 011 the ta-
ble.
[Milly tithes the tray out, and returns.
lilill nil. till fll/l/l'.
Tom. Papa, I do hope you haven't got me a baby present.
Have you?
Papa. Come here, you young scapegoat. What do you think
you deserve? Look at the Christmas gifts you have brought me.
(He drains a sheaf of letters from his pocket, and runs them oner.)
Bill from the glazier for neighbor's windows broken by son Tom.
Ditto from carpenter for repairing fence broken by son Tom.
Locksmith, for lock broken by son Tom. Bell hanger, for wire
broken by son Tom. Seriously speaking, son Tom, you will have
to remember that father's patience and his purse both have a
limit. I mean that, my boy.
Ton (sulkily). Yes, sir.
Mamma. Now, children, while Papa and I are dining, do you
finish decorating the tree, and lay all these presents carefully
about its root. Papa has brought you such lovely things! Re-
member, you are not to untie a single string before to-morrow
night. Then we'll light the tree, and what a happy Christmas
night we shall have!
Pitpn. Come, come, my dear! I am as hungry as Santa Claus
on Christmas morning.
Mamma. Don't let the wrappings slip, children, and —
Papa (laughing and hurrying Mamma off). Come, come!
Tom (as the door closes). I'm going to look at my presents noic.
Milly. Oh, Tom! Mamma said not to.
Tom, Why doesn't she take us to dine with her. then? Jo
Bootblack eats with his father and mother. He says he never
The packages are all
'DO YOU WANT YOUR HEAD OUT 3"
heard of such doings as nursery suppers. He says he wouldn't
stand it.
Jtnny. I don't see what that's got to do with opening Mamma's
presents. I should think you'd be ashamed, Tom. Mother says
they're so beautiful, too.
Tom. I'm not going to wait for to-morrow. I'm going to un-
tie my gifts, and tie them up again so nobody will know.
Milly. Oh, Tom, don't!
Turn (turning over the packages). Tom. don't! I believe you
were born saying that. Look here! If either of you tell on me,
I'll — I'll dismember your babies. You don't know what that
means, but it's something airfttl. Here's one of my presents, with
my name on it. I'll open this first. (lie picks out a long package
and loosens the string.) I don't see what it can be. What was
that? \_A bit of paper flutters to the floor, irliicJi Mill}' picks up.
Milly (falteringli/). Oh, Tom !
Tom (angrily). There you go again! What's written on that?
Milly. It's Papa's handwriting.
Tom (stamping his foot). Head it, I say! Read it this minute!
Milly (reading). " To be broken on Tom's back for his own good."
Tom. What! (//< tears off the wrapping-paper, iii*rinsii,i;u heav;
stick, which he drops mi the table.) To break on my back ! I
stand it — I won't! I'll go where they know how to treat a fel-
low, that's what I'll do. (11 i./iatc/i/.i up his hul fi-"u> the floor.}
Millv, you can tell father I'm never coming back here anv iimn
;ni(i it's not worth while to look for me. You girls can keep your
old babies in peace now. I'm gone for good.
[Jenny uiul Milly eliug t" him.
142
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
Mitty. Oh, Tom, don't !— don't, Tom!
Jenny. You c:in di*r< number my babies, or anylhing, if you 11
stay, Tom.
Tom (In-ashing his sleeve across fas eyes). I'm gone, girls. 1 II
never comeback till I'm a President or something. I'll show father
what — a — mistake — he's made.
[He breaks awtn/ ami i-nslns nut right entrance.
Mi//i/ ami . I, mil/. Oh, Papa! Papa! Mamma! Mamma! Oh! oh!
/•;///,/• Papa and Mamma hastily by left entrance, theirtablt imjikin."
Untti rimj in tl:, 1 1- In i mix.
Papa and Mamma. What is it? Quick, quick! What is it?
Mil/>/ <nitl Jenny (sobbing, and running In their parents). Papa!
Papa!' Mamma! oh, Mamma!
ACT II.
Time. — Christmas 11 if/fit. Kame see/a: Milly in/r/.Icnny discovered
dressing the Christmas tree. A number of packages are /ilnn-d
about its root. A ball of twine and some large sheets of brnirn
writ \i\ii in i IHI iier lie fin the table, irilh sereral bunks, " work-basket,
a hand-glass, and <>tli< r gifts unirrapped.
Jenny (standing /""•/•' t<> l»"k "/' "' '/"' tree). Isn't it too pretty?
Now we must call Papa and Mamma to light the candles.
Milly. No, no; we must first wrap all our Christmas gifts to
them.
Jenny. Oh yes! I forgot. [They turn to the table.
Milly (liftin}/ the irofk-basket). Here's my present to mother. I'll
wrap that.
Jenny (taking up <i hunk and wrapping it). Here's mine to faihrr.
I'll wrap thai.
Milly (lifting tli,' hand-gliisn). Oh, Jenny, here's Tom's present to
mother. What shall we do with it?
Jenny. I don't, know, I'm sure. Il's so very queer about
Tom.
Mi////. I thought Papa and Mamma would he so frightened
about him, and they don't seem to care at all. Papa just says,
" Dress your Christmas tree, my dears, and don't frel."
Jenny. And Mamma just laughs too. It seems to me kind of
heartless to be having trees lighted, with Tom out in the cold
streets, perhaps.
Milly. It's snowing hard, too.
[The dour ut right swings half open; Tom's fiend appears.
Jenny. Oh, Milly, you make me cry! I'd rather have my ba-
bies spanked hard every day than have poor Tom out in the
snow.
Tom (in " tin I' wire). Bring out ynur bailies.
[Miily anil Jenny xerenni mi'! eling together.
Enter Tom, hi* hair rough and his clothing disordered.
Tom. Hist! Quit that crying. Where are Papa and Mamma?
Milly. In the library.
Tom (swaggering in '). Say, girls, I guess I've given you all a bad
scare. I guess Papa and Mamma are 'most crazy about me.
Milly. No, they don't seem crazy, Tom. Where have you been?
Tom. Never you mind. .Men don't always tell where they've
been.
Jenny. Tom, how queer you look!
[Sfif giee* him the haml-glas*.
Tom (looking in the mirror and smoothing his hair anil rlnthis).
Men always look queer when they've been out all night.
Milly. Oh, I'm so glad you've come, home!
Tom. Well, I don't know for how long. It seemed kind of
rough on the old folks to go off so suddenly, you know. I came
back to settle some little things. Say, Milly, what did Papa
think?
Milly. He hasn't said anything to us, hut he must have known
about the little things you've come back for, Tom. I heard him
tell Mamma that you and he must have a full settlement.
Tom (sitting on the edge of tin table and rnnninghis flni/er* throiij/h
hi* hair). Whew! He said that, did he?
Jenny (irrnn/iinr/ the gifts). Tom dear, we're wrapping our gifts
for Papa anil Mamma. Then we're to call them in to light the
tree. 'Won't you wrap your gift and mark ii?
Tom. What! You weren't going to light that tree, with me
away?
.I//////. Papa told us to, Tom.
Tom (thfiistinn his hands in hi* jioekets). Whew! Don't you
lalk about your old gifts to me. Don't you see I want to think?
(Hi- bin-ies 'h is fare in hi* hands; then lunks up suddenly and slaps
his knee.) I have it! Here, girls, you lake that big piece of
brown paper, wrap me- in it, and tie me into a Christmas par-
cel.
Millii. Whai do you mean?
Torn. Do just as I say, and do it quick.
[He Jlini/s UK /HI / H r mi tin jlimr. ami In* ilium npun it. Jenny
iind Millv irrap him ran full;/ in tin folds.
Milly. Do you want your head <HII ?
Turn. You bet 1 don't! Wow! You needn't, smother me.
Break a hole where my mouth is — quick! (Milly breaks a //«••./.
///,', tl, iii in tin paper over Tom's face, and helps him to sit up. Tom
t'i'i •• ) 'ilx right /ia ml. anil lifts tin' inn."/,-, tiirnini/ hisfaei from side In
side us he talks. ) Now lay me under the Iree with the other pres-
ents, and write on me, "For Mother, if Papa will promise riot to
touch it."
Milly. Oh, Tom, I can't. Papa might be angry.
Tom. Very well, then. I'll run away again.
Milly. No, no, Tom! I'll do all you want.
[Milly and Jenny drag Tom tii the nn>t if the tree, and lay the
remaining /iae/,'ii;/f." aranml him.
Ji'iini/. Oh, Milly dear, I'm so awfully scared!
Milly. Oh, so am I!
Tniii (in a deep nn'ri j'rmn aiming tin prise itts). Have you writ-
ten that label on me?
[Milly takes a pencil ami writes hastily on the wrapping-paper.
Tom. Now call Papa and Mamma.
Jenny (openiny the door at left). Papa, Mamma, we are ready.
(She turns back.) Oh, Milly, I'm so scared! They're coming,
oli, Milly, they are here!
[She rushes to Milly, < nnl tin;/ elimj together, each hiding her
face on the other's shoulder.
ACT III.
Tinii . — /•'if/ten niinntesln/er. fvnin *eene. Curtain rises on Papa
and Mamma lighting the last of the Christinas-tree candles, Milly
anil Jenny iratehing them. Whenever Papa and Mamma look
air, in Tom lifts his paper mask and makes warning faces at Mil-
ly and Jenny.
Papa. That's a fine blaze. Hurrah for Christmas! Come! —
hip! hip! hurrah!
Milly and Jenny (weakly). Hurrah! hurrah!
Mamma (laughing). What feeble cheers! Try again. Hurrah!
hurrah! hurrah!
Papa (stooping oeer the presents). Dear me! What's this great
present, marked "For Mamma," that I am not to touch? Why,
what can it be? | ll< />ri>ds Tom's 'wrappings with hixjini/er.
Mill// and Jenny (dragging him airay). Oh, don't, Papa! don't!
Papa. Well, I won't. Here's a present with the wrapping loose.
Oh, it's the rod Master Tom ran away from.
[He lifts the rod and lays it on the table. Papa and Mamma
look at it, then at each other, and la-it gh.
Milly (eagerly). Papa, if Tom came back, you wouldn't — you
wouldn't break that rod on his back, would you?
I'lijia (ill-airing Milly and Jenny towards him). Now, my dear
little girls, is that what you are fretting over?
Mamma. You must trust Papa, dears.
Pa-pa. If I should break that rod over Tom's back, it would be
letting him off very easily, the little runaway rascal.
Milly. Oh, Papa, Tom may have been hungry and wandering
in the cold streets!
./i mil/. And it's snowing, too.
I'll/in. Come, come! I'm only afraid Master Tom has not been
cold and hungry enough. He will learn a good lesson. Now for
the presents. By-the-way, Mamma, we left the kisses in Ihe
library. We must have them.
[As Papa goes out he makes a pretence of again opening Tom's
wrapping. Mamma laughingly drii-es him away.
Mamma. No, no. That's mine.
Papa. We'll see about that. [E.eeunt Papa and- Mamma.
To in (lifting Jiit mask). Here, Milly, you untie those strings on
my feet as quick as you can. I'm gone.
Jenny. Oh no. Tom, no! Stay with us.
Tom. With Papa hoping I am cold and hungry, and a rod
wailing for my back? Not much. Untie me, quick.
Milly (il rawing closer). Where are you going, Tom?
Tom (brokenly). Where I was before, if they'll take me back
again. Hurry, Milly.
Milly. Just a minute, Tom. Where have you been?
Tom. At Jo Bootblack's.
Milly. Then you weren't cold or hungry?
Tom. Wasn't I? Can I eat cold pork and greasy cabbage?
And at Christmas, too! Why, I had to sleep close to Jo to keep
from freezing! The}' hadn't any combs and brushes, and they
washed their faces at the pump, and the}' ate with their tinsrers.
It was awful. (He subs.) I was so homesick. But they don't
keep rods ready to break on boys' backs, and they didn't want
me to be — fold — and — hungry —
Milly. Oh, Tom ! neither does father.
Tom. He said he did, anyhow. You hurry here, Milly.
[He struggles.
Milly. Ob, I can't! I can't, Tom! I'd ratheryou'd be punished
than have you eat such things and be cold.
Tom. What!
Mitty. I can't untie you, Tom.
Tniii (struggling). What! what! You shall! you shall!
Milly. No, no; I can't. You'll just have to take father's pun-
ishment. I'll try hard to beg you off, Tom, but I won't let you go.
Tom. Jenny!
Milly (standing before Jenny). Yrcu needn't call Jenny. I won't
let her untie you. Ob, dear, dear, I wish I were grown up! I'm
so scared !
DECEMBER 25, 1894.
IIARPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
143
Jenny (drawing dotrn Tom's mask). Hide your face quick, Tom.
Here are Papa and Mamma.
Enter Papa and Mamma, irilh <i trai/ »f 1/i-ii/ht pa/u r /.-/.VMS cnrrird
betireen them.
Papa. Who'll buy my kisses? Kisses for kisses — kisses for
klSSCS
[Hi gin's out the pitptr* in e.rrhani/i fur l,ixxi .1 //•«« Milly and
Jenny. They map the paper^ and all dress in th, rap* and
iijinins and ca/iex I'niitainid iintide.
Mamma. Circle round the tree. Now circle round the tree —
all hand in hand. Christmas comes but once a year.
[They circle nhont tin- ti;>. dam-inr/. At a loin! kimck
Jenny breaks airai/, uml r>/nx 1,1 tin door to rent ri u
which iit handed in.
./• tiny. For you, Papa. [Papa takes the letter, itnd opens it.
Mamma. W'hat is it?
Pa/in (xhukiny his head). Rather bad news, I fear. I must hur-
ry off.
Mamma. Tom! Oh, is it Tom?
Papa. Yes. Jo Bootblack's mother writes that he has slipped
away from her an hour ago.
Mamma, (wringing her hands). Oh. she promised me to take
such good care of him! My poor, poor little boy ! Oh, run! run!
Look for him. You found him easily before.
Mill}/. Papa! Then you did know Tom wasn't cold or hun-
g'T-
Papa. My child, we knew all about him, of course. Don't
stop me now, Milly.
Milly. Papa, only just a moment — just a moment. (She runs
to the tree where Tom lies.) Open your Christmas gift. .Mamma,
open your Christmas gift. But you'll promise me uot to touch
it. Papa, won't yuir.'
Papa [ jianxiiii/, aiiiii'id). Milly!
* Tom (dragging tin' max/,- mrm/ and tn/im/ tn rise). Here I am
Papa.
Mamma. My boy!
[SV/t1 ruxlit'x fonrard.
Papa (holding Mamma back). Not yet. What does this mean,
sir?
Milly (dinging to her father). You won't punish him. Papa?
You won't, will you?
Tom (still xti-ni/ijlini/ with the paper). Don't you listen to her,
Papa. I guess I ought to be whacked.
Milly and Jenny. Oh, no, no!
[Mamma drairx tin in In her. Papa breaks the twine about Tom,
and lift* liiin In/ tlie xhmild, r» to tin <•> nti-i nf tin room.
Papa. Now what have you to say for yourself?
[Tom Inini/s hix head.
Mamma (her arms about the girls). Oh, my dear litlle.boy ! how-
could you leave us?
Tom. I — I — didn't think you cared so. Say. Papa. I just wish
you would take that rod to me. I've been awfully bad.
[Mamma ronn-xfiirirurd ai/ain.
Papa (one hand on Tom's shoulder, the ollu r in<>li<>i<ii«j Mamma
back). If you are in earnest, Tom, go bring me that rod from the
table yourself.
Milly and Jenny. No, uo, Papa!
Mamma (smiling). You must trust Papa, dears.
[Tom brings his father the rod.
Papa. Now, my boy, if you are really so repentant as to beg
for a thrashing, I think you richly deserve a taste of Papa's rod.
(lie lirings the rod down sharply on Tom's shoulders. Its paper cov-
erinn splits n/mrf, and n shower of candy falls on the floor. He
laughs and holds up the broken candy-box.) This is Papa's md.
The children (Inni/hing and scrambling for the candy). Papa's
rod ! Papa's rod !
TABLEAU :
TOM.
PAPA. MAMMA.
JKNNV. MlLUY.
CURTAIN.
FREDDY'S FANCY.
THE pumpkin's the autumn football
In the Meld by the old rail fence ;
Each cornstalk's a lively player,
And I am the audience.
A PRESENT FOR HIS GRANDFATHER.
'•I'M saving up to buy you a Christmas present, grandpa,"
said Willie.
" That's very nice of you, my boy," said the old gentleman.
•' How much have you got ?"
"Well," Willie replied, " if you'll give me ten cents, I'll have
eleveu altogether."
MR. KIRK MUNROE, ONE OF THE FOUNDERS OF THE L. A. W.
The Author of " Road Rangers," a Bicycle Story for Boys, which is the
Christmas Extra accompanying this Ntnnher.
THE STRANGE
ADVENTURES
TODDLES.
OF TOMMY
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPlEl! II.
WHEN the last of the animals had disappeared, Tommy
Toddles looked about him to sec if any other things were
going to happen. He almost expected to see the animals turn
around and come back. But they did not. The tramp, tramp,
tramp of their feet grew less and less distinct, until it gradual-
ly died away entirely, and there was no other sound but the
rustling of the wind in the tree-tops.
Tommy reflected for a lew moments and then started for tin-
gate. He knew he was uot allowed to go beyond it, but he felt
as if he ought certainly to go that far to see, if possible, what
became of his animals. Perhaps he might even be forgiven fin-
going further, if he explained later to his mother exactly what
had happened, for surely tins must lie a sufficient excuse, as no
one ever before had heard of wooden toys coming to life and
growing up and deliberately walking away. And so Tommy
went to the gate and looked along the road, which stretched
away for a short distance down the hill and then disappeared
into the woods.
The animals were not in sight. They had had time to reach
the woods, and only a light cloud of dust show ed that they had
passed that way. Tommy looked back at the big house, but no
one was visible, and most of the window-shutters were closed so
as to keep out the sunlight.
"I know I ought not to," thought Tommy, " but I'll just run
down the road a little way to SIT where they went. They may
get lost, and that, of COUIM-. \\ onld never do."
And so saying, he .nave one more glance toward the 1 so be-
hind him anil started oft. He ran as far as the bend in the road,
and then looked ahead into the woods, but, alas ! There was nor
the sign of an animal anywhere. The little boy was \ , r\ much
perplexed. He was entirely at a loss as to what he should do
under the circumstances, and tor lack of inspiration be sat down
144
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
THE SHEEP UETUKNEI) WALKING ON HIS HIND LEGS.
on a big stone by tlie way-side to flunk the matter over. He
was still debatiug whether he should follow after the animals
and wander off into the woods, or whether he should give them
up as lost and return to the play-room, when he heard a rustling
sound in the bushes near by.
He turned around, and there, standing not ten feet away from
him, he saw the prettiest, whitest, woolliest sheep that his eyes
had ever rested upon. The sheep had great blue eyes, that-
turned toward the little hoy in an inquisitive sort of a way, and
presently it stepped entirely out of the bushes and nodded in a
most friendly manner.
" Hello, Slieepy !" said Tommy, getting up and holding out his
band.
"Hello!" answered the woolly Sheep, as he trotted up and
placed one of his fore feet in Tommy's proffered hand.
Now our little boy had been surprised, to say the least of it,
at the eondnct of the Noah's Ark animals: but this surprise was
nothing compared to the amazement which almost overpowered
him when the woolly Sheep not only shook him by the hand.
but actually spoke to him.
" You look disturbed," said r.he Sheep.
"I am." stammered the little boy — and that was all he could
say for the moment.
" Yon should not be disturbed or surprised at. anything," con-
tinued the woolly Sheep in the most natural way in the world.
" I got over being surprised at things years and years ago."
Nevertheless, Tommy ir«s surprised and very much disturbed
in his little mind, and for some minutes he said not a word, but
merely stared at the Sheep. The latter returned the stare com-
placently with his large blue eyes, and wheu at last the silence
began to be embarrassing, he said,
"What are you doing here?"
"I am looking for my animals," replied Tommy as naturally
as he could, for he had not quite gotten used to the situation
yet. " Have you seen them pass this way ?"
"Ohyes," answered the Sheep ; "they all went down the road
some time ago. "Weir those your animals .'"
" Yes, and I am afraid they will get lost."
"Why don't you go after them ?" asked the Sheep.
"I don't know where to go." said Tommy, mournfully.
"Neither do I; but if you like, I will go with you."
The little boy wondered how the Sheep could go to a place
without knowing where that place was, but as long as he had
so generously offered to do so he did not exactly like to suggest
this difficulty, and, be-
sides, he thought it would
be more polite to accept.
So he said,
•• Where shall we go?"
"I don't know," an-
swered the Sheep.
"Neither do I," added
Tommy.
" Then we must ask."
" 15nt w horn can we
ask .'" inquired the little
boy, looking about.
" We can ask any one
we meet," said the Sheep.
"If we start into the
w noils we will surely meet
some one. \Ve won't
meet any one if we stay
here."
This struck Tommy as
being a sensible view to
take of the situation, and
he told the Sheep he
would be glad to lia\e
him go along with him to
aid in the search.
"Very well," pui'Micd
the latter. " Wait until
I get, my thing-."
The Sheep trotted off
into the hushes again,
and soon returned wear-
ing a jaunty hat on ihe
top of his head and car-
r\ing a cane which was
neatly decorated with a
gilded ram's horn for a
handle. He was now walking on his hind legs, too, instead
of ou all-fours, as he had been when Tommy first saw him. In
this attitude he was almost as tall as the little boy.
Before they started, Tommy again hesitated somewhat as to
whether he ought to go w ith the Sheep in search of his animals,
or whether it would not be better to turn back to the house, hut
everything had been so queer that afternoon that he thought
his mother would accept the queer excuses he would have to
make when he got home.
They followed the road into the woods, and as they went
Tommy looked about him to see if he could recognize any old
landmarks, for he had frequently gone that way with his Uncle
Dick. But for some reason the trees did not appear to be the
same trees that had stood by the way-side only a few days since,
and the road seemed to take twists and turns that Tommy had
never known it to take before. Yet, somehow, these things did
not bother Tommy much at the time. Presently the Sheep
said,
" You have forgotten your hat."
" Yes : I w as in such a hurry, you know," answered the little
hoy. " But I don't think I will catch cold, do you ?"
"Oh no," continued the Sheep, patronizingly ; " if you do,
just give it to me." But Tommy didn't comprehend exactly
what he meant.
"I wonder if my animals can talk, too?" thought Tommy, as
they went along. "I hope we will catch up with them soon, so
that I can find out. And how I do wish I could keep this wool-
ly Sheep instead of having the one Uncle Dick is going to bring
me! I don't think mamma would object to a live Sheep like
this one — a white woolly Sheep that wears a little hat and can
talk."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
WANTED TO LEAUN WAR-DANCING.
I'M not very fond of our dancing-school,
With its polkas and waltzes anil lancers;
There's a great deal more fuu in learning to dance
Like those great big red Indian dancers.
TKACIIFU. "Now, boys, if one of you were to find something
pelrilied, what age would you attribute to it ?"
S.MAIIT liny. •• Stone age."
Copyright, 1-. 4, by 1 1 ».i KI: & BRUTHKKS. All Rights Rest
VACATION EXTRA. NO. 791*.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1804.
PRICE TEN CENTS.
ROAD RANGERS.
BY KIRK M U N R O E,
AUTHOR OF THE "MATE" BOOKS, "THE FUR-SEAI.'S TOOTH," ETC.
CHAPTER I.
WILL ROGERS CALLS A MEETING.
WOULD it be Hue? Well, I should say it would,
if we can only carry it out!" exclaimed Will
Rogers, Captain of the Ready Rangers. ''It seems to
me that we have made a pretty good record so far,
and for a wind-up this scheme of yours would be
perfectly immense. I tell you what, Tom Burgess, I'm
awfull3" sorry you are going away, for fellows with ideas
like that in their heads aren't quite as plentiful as huc-
kleberries in Berks."
"Which is lucky for Berks," laughed Tom, "judging
from the number of huckleberries 'Cracker' Bob Jones
has shipped from here the past few weeks. But if you
really think you can go, I'll send word to father right
146
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
off that I am coming home that way. I'm pretty sure
Hal can go, and perhaps there'll be some others. We
must find out as quickly as we can, though, for we ought
to start next Monday."
" All right," assented Captain Will. "I'll call a spe-
cial meeting for this very evening, and we'll settle mat-
ters then."
So Tom went down to the telegraph office, from which
he sent a long despatch to his father in New York, while
the lad with whom he had been talking started off to
hunt up the several members of his band and notify them
of the special meeting.
Although the young Captain was obliged to talk over his
new plan and arrange some of its details with Tom Bur-
gess, he kept it such a profound secret from the other
members as to arouse their keenest curiosity, and insure
a full attendance at the meeting. This was held in the
assembly-room of the new Ranger Engine-house, and of
course Pop Miller was present, for the boys held their
honorary member in such high esteem that no meeting
would have been considered regular without him. At
tlie same time the old gentleman's intimacy with the
Riuigers during the past six months had not only caused
him to regard all boys with favor, but to entertain for
these particular lads a sincere affection, combined with a
belief that whatever they undertook they would carry
out.
On this occasion the impatient members thought Will
Rogers never would be through with calling for reading
of minutes and reports, and when at length he rose to
address them, he was greeted by a general sigh of satis-
faction.
"Mr. Pop Miller and fellow Rangers," began Will.
"We have naturally been a good many things, because
no fellow who has any spunk likes to be the same thing
all the time. We have changed from one thing to an-
other whenever we felt like it; but in becoming Fire
Rangers, and accepting from Mr. Ray the beautiful
engine down -stairs, together with the charge of this
building, we have assumed a responsibility from which
we can't back out any more than Sindbad could from
the Old Man of the Sea. We don't want to, either [cries
of " No! no!"] ; but we still want to be something new once
in a while [cries of "Yes! yes! of course we dp!'']. So I
have thought of a plan, or rather Tom Burgess and I
thought it out together, that will be brand new, and at
the same time help us to be better Fire Rangers than
ever. It is a bicycle club, and I hope every Ranger will
join it."
As the speaker paused to note the effect of this an-
nouncement the members looked at each other in amaze-
ment not unmixed with disappointment. How could
they form a bicycle club without bicycles? asked one who
knew there were not half a dozen wheels in the village.
Even these were rarely used, for the Berks roads were
notoriously among the worst in the State. What had
bicycles to do with fire-engines, anyway? asked others.
Even the honorary member looked puzzled.
Will Rogers smiled at the noticeable effect of his pre-
liminary remark's; and, when quiet was restored, he con-
tinued: " Bicycles are among the most important things,
and any fellow who can't ride one will soon find himself
getting left. You can travel farther and faster on abicycle
than you can on horseback, and they don't eat anything.
nor need to rest. They have bicycle scouts in most all
armies now, and I don't see why they shouldn't be just
as useful in fire companies. Anyhow, I mean to try
them in ours, and have a sort of a mounted hook-and-
ladder company, which will al ways be able to get to a fire
a long time ahead of the engine."
" That's a first-class idea," remarked the honorary
member, nodding his head approvingly.
"The most important thing of all, though, in connec-
tion with bicycles as well as fire-engines," continued
Will, "is good roads. These we certainly don't have in
Berks. If we had we might have got the ' Ranger ' out
to Si Carew's father's farm in time to save his barn last
week, and the cost of that barn alone would put the road
between here and there in first-class order."
" But we haven't got any bicycles, that is, not many of
us have, and they are mighty expensive things," inter-
posed Si Carcw. whose hopes of receiving a wheel as a
birthday present had been dashed by the loss of the barn
in question.
"No, we haven't, that's a fact, and they are expensive;
but we must have them, even if they do come high," re-
plied Captain Will, "for every one who owns a bicycle
is bound to be a worker for good roads, and these mean
more fun for us, as well as a better chance to show what
our fire-engine is worth. I believe every fellow here can
earn a bicycle between now and spring, if he sets out to
in real earnest, though, of course, it will be hard work.
I know I am going to try it, for one, for I want a new
wheel more than I want anything else, and my father
doesn't feel that he can afford to give me one. Just as
soon as I get it I am going to present my old one to the
Road Rangers for beginners to practise on. Oh, I forgot!
' Road Rangers ' is the new name, because it will show
that we are a bicycle club, and devoted to securing good
roads. The members will have a great many privileges
that ordinary Rangers won't be allowed to enjoy; but
they must pledge themselves to do their level best to get
bicycles before spring, and to never let up 011 the road
question until Berks has as good roads as any in the
State. We'll join the L.A.W., and the Good Roads
League, and they'll send us all sorts of papers and books
that tell about roads for us to study. Then, perhaps, we
can get some first-class engineer to come and give us a
road-talk, to which we'll charge all outsiders an admission
fee that will help buy our bicycles. But now that I
have explained the object of this meeting, let's get down
to real business. All in favor of being Road Rangers,
willing to work hard all winter for bicycles, and for good
roads so long as there is a poor one in the town of Berks,
will say, 'Aye.'"
Tom Burgess said " Aye " ; but, to the young Captain's
amazement and mortification, not another member gave
this sign of approval to his new scheme. He forgot that
until Tom Burgess came he was the only one of the
Rangers who, in spite of bad roads, had taken long glo-
rious bicycle rides to every corner of the county in which
Berks was situated. He knew the delights of a wheel,
and how greatly they would be increased by good roads.
He knew, as did no one else in the town, how very bad
its highways were, and he was already a student of road
engineering1. It was all so plain to him, and the subject
seemed so important, that he could not understand why
every one was not interested in it. He had expected the
Rangers to follow his lead in this matter as readily as they
had in all others, and could hardly conceal his chagrin
when they failed to do so.
CHAPTER II.
"CRACKER" BOB'S INVESTMENT.
As Will Rogers's disappointment at the reception of
his new plan appeared on his face, several of the mem-
bers, all of whom were too fond of their Captain to
willingly hurt bis feelings, rose to explain their position.
Naval Cadet Billy Barlow said that he would gladlv
become a Road Ranger and work for good roads if be did
not have to return almost immediately to Annapolis,
where he would be forced to remain another two vcars
without a chance to revisit Berks.
Little Cul Moody said he had a velocipede, and if that
would do he would be willing to join, but he didn't be-
DECEMBER 25, 1894.
HARPEK'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
147
lieve lie could ever earn a regular bicycle, because his
one hen had stopped laying for the season, and he didn't
know any way to make money except by selling eggs.
The honorary member knew the importance of good
roads, and believed Berks ought to have them. He was
willing to help the cause by voting for it in town-meet-
ing. As for a wheel, he had thought of getting a tricycle,
until lie began to inquire into prices, when he found he
might as well think of owning a carriage and a pair of
trotters.
Sam Ray said his father said that a bicycle wasn't
anything but a plaything, and was too expensive a toy
for him to own.
" Cracker " Bob Jones was in favor of bicycles, and had,
in fact, been hard at work all summer collecting berries,
and shipping them to a relative who was a city commis-
sion merchant, for the express purpose of buying one.
He had not yet acquired enough money, but whenever he
did and was able to become the possessor of a wheel he
thought, perhaps, he might like to join the Road Ran-
gers.
Mif Bowers said there seemed to be so much more hard
work than fun in the new scheme that for his part he
couldn't see how it would pay.
" That's it," assented Abe Cruger. "What are we go-
ing to gain more'n we've got now by joinin', and promis-
ing to do a lot of the hardest kind of work?''
Although Lieutenant Hal Bacon did not say anything,
lie looked inquiringly at Will Rogers when this question
was asked, as much as to say, "That's what I want to
know?"
Poor Will, quite bewildered by the amount of cold
water thus thrown upon what had become his pet scheme,
could only reply, "Why, you would gain bicycles and
good roads to ride them on."
" And a trip to New York," whispered Tom Burgess.
" That's so!" exclaimed Will, brightening. " I believe
I haven't mentioned the privileges, and I meant to speak
of them first too. You see, there is to be an L.A.W.
good-roads' meet in New York, and the Berks Road Ran-
gers are invited to attend it ; that is, Tom Burgess's father
has written to him to invite all the Rangers who are in-
terested in bicycles and good roads and such things to
come on with him, and stay at his house during the meet,
and he will provide railroad tickets both ways so that it
won't cost a cent. It's going to be fine, I can tell you !
Then, as soon as the Road Rangers are organized, I am go-
ing to appoint a committee of all the members who own
wheels and will be allowed, to ride from here to New
York, study the different kinds of roads, and get there
in time to join the other fellows at the meet. Tom Bur-
gess will be on it, because he is our best rider, and has got
to go, anyway. I expect Lieutenant Bacon will be on it,
and I know I shall. Anyhow, we are going to start from
this headquarters at nine o'clock, sharp, next Monday
morning, and ride to Chester that day. From there we
will take the best road we can find to the Hudson, and
then follow it dowu to New York. All the expenses of
the committee have been provided for, so that it won't
cost them any more than it will the other fellows."
" Why, it's more than two hundred miles!" exclaimed
a member.
"I know it," replied Will. "But we don't expect to
do it all in one day. We are going to stop at taverns
nights, and visit places of interest, and perhaps we'll have
to camp out. Anyway, it's going to be a great trip, and
every Road Ranger who owns a wheel is going to be in-
vited to form one of that committee. Then as soon as I
find out just how to do it, I am going to form the Road
Rangers into fire scouts, or something of that kind, with
uniforms, and a real bugle and colors, and we'll drill, and
perhaps we'll have a parade next Fourth of July."
"Hurray!'' shouted little Gal Moody, carried away by
enthusiasm, and immediately afterwards covered with
confusion and blushes.
"That is," continued Will, when the laughter caused
by this interruption had subsided, "I did expect we'd do
all these things; but, of course, if nobody is interested in
bicycles or roads, and isn't willing to work for them,
there won't be any Road Rangers, and we won't go to
New York, but will just stay around here and do the
same things we've always done, until we get too old to
care for anything. So, as there is no further business
before the meeting, I guess we'd better adjourn."
"But I do want to join," cried one. " And I, and I,
and I!" cried others, as half a dozen anxious-looking
members sprang to their feet.
"Oh! do you?" asked Will, with well-feigned sur-
prise. "All right, we'll take another vote on the ques-
tion. All those who wish to become Road Rangers, and
are willing to work for bicycles and good roads, will
say, 'Aye.' "
" Aye!" shouted every member at the top of his voice.
Even Pop Miller, carried away by the enthusiasm of his
young comrades, shouted with the rest, and thus pledged
himself to become a Road Ranger.
" Contrary -minded?"
There was a dead silence, and, with a beaming face,
Will Rogers announced that as the ayes appeared to be
in the majority, the Road Rangers were an established
fact. The meeting adjourned amid a tumult of happy
voices, and excited inquiries concerning the proposed
trip to New York, which from that time on formed al-
most the sole topic of conversation among the Berks boys,
and their elders as well.
When the eventful Monday morning on which the
road committee was to set forth arrived, not only every
Ranger, but every boy in Berks, together with most of
the girls, and half the grown folks, were gathered on the
village green to witness the start.
Although safeties were no longer novelties in Berks,
every one having seen the cushion-tired wheels belong-
ing to Will Rogers and Tom Burgess, which every
Ranger had learned to ride as well, yet when Billy Bar-
low rode up and dismounted from one, he was greeted by
shouts of laughter. This merriment was caused by the
pneumatic tires of his wheel, which was the first of its
kind ever seen in the village. Although every one made
fun of these pneumatics, calling them air-cushions and
hose pipes and poultices and many other derisive names,
the wheel was really a beauty, and the very latest thing
out. It had been sent on by express by Mr. Burgess, as
a present to Hal Bacon from his cousin Tom. and had
only been taken from its crate that morning. Although
Hal was wild with delight at being thus made the owner
of the very finest bicycle ever seen in Berks, and imme-
diately tested its admirable qualities by a trial spin, he
also decided that Billy Barlow must ride it to New York.
He had been longing for some opportunity of showing
his gratitude to the brave naval cadet for having saved
his life. It was time for Billy to return to Annapolis,
anyway, and he might just as well go as far as New
York on a wheel. To crown all, Hal felt that, as lieu-
tenant of the Rangers, it was his duty to take command
of the second division, who were to go to New York by
rail two days after the first had started.
Will Rogers and Tom Burgess wore knee-breeches, but
Billy Barlow was forced to be content with ordinary trou-
sers bound at the ankles by steel clasps. The former Uvo
also wore regular bicycle caps, in front of which appear-
ed the device of a winged wheel encircling the letters
"R.R.," all embroidered in gold thread. Billy Bin-low
wore an old naval cap on which this same device had
been substituted for the fouled anchor. These emblems
had been sent to Tom Burgess from New York, and each
Road Ranger had been provided with one of them.
148
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
Closely following the earliest arrivals came "Cracker"
Bob Jones, towering above the crowd on a 56-inch ordi-
nary that he had bought with his huckleberry money
that very morning from Keddy Cuddeback, a young fel-
low who lived in the settlement of Berks Mills, just
outside of Berks proper, and who had once applied for
admission to the Fire Rangers, only to be promptly black-
balled. The Berks boys did not know much about him,
and did not care to, for between them and the boys of
Berks Mills existed a hereditary feud of such intensity
that if one belonging to either territory were caught in
the other he was pretty certain to come to grief. There
were rumors that Reddy's father, a one-armed man, who
had only recently found employment in Berks Mills, had
invented so valuable a bit of mill machinery that its roy-
alties would soon make him wealthy. It was also ru-
mored that Reddy himself was attracting attention as a
bicycle rider. In the minds of the Berks boys, however,
these things weighed as nothing1 compared with the fact
that the lad dwelt in the hostile camp, and consequently
they refused to admit him to theirs. Reddy received their
decision with bitterness of soul, and vowed to lose no
opportunity for getting even witli them on account of it.
Good-natured "Oracker" Bob, whose business instincts
led him to overlook social differences whenever there
was a bargain in view, had eagerly embraced the oppor-
tunity of purchasing Reddy's bicycle for less than one-
third of its original cost, and now regarded his lofty
mount with supreme satisfaction, looking down with
more or less contempt on the less-aspiring wheels of his
companions. "Anybody can ride a safety," he had de-
clared, '• but it takes a rider to manage an ordinary."
Behind him came Mif Bowers on an old rattletrap of
a tricycle that his father had taken in payment of a debt,
Si Carew and Abe Cruger on a couple of antiquated bone-
shakers that had belonged to their big brothers years be-
fore, and Cal Moody puffing like a small steam-engine
as he labored to keep up with the procession on a little
three - wheeled velocipede that he had long since out-
gro w n .
The spectators roared with laughter at this unique col-
lection of wheels, but Captain Will Rogers looked very
grave, until informed that the four last-named riders
only intended to escort the others to the edge of the
village. Greatly relieved by this, he gave the order to
start, ami amid a jangle of bells, the blowing of whistles,
and loud cheers from the assembled throng, the first pa-
rade of the Berks Road Rangers got under way.
CHAPTER III.
CAL MOODY COMES TO GRIEF.
As the motley procession of three safeties, one tall
ordinary, on which sat "Cracker" Bob Jones with an old
knapsack strapped to his shoulders, two bone-shakers,
one tricycle, and one velocipede moved down the village
street, it attracted a universal, not to say embarrassing,
amount of attention. The Rangers who were on foot ran
for some distance beside the wheels, laughing at and
cheering their comrades, people rushed to their doors and
windows, dogs barked, and one foolish puppy sprang so
directly in front of the tall ordinary that he was run over,
though without serious injury, while " Cracker " Bob took
the first header of the trip, to the great delight of the as-
sembled spectators.
In order to escape as quickly as possible from this con-
fusion, Captain Will was setting a lively pace, and at the
moment of "Cracker" Bob's mishap the three safeties
were so far in the lead that their riders did not witness
the accident to the ordinary. The others did, though, for
they were behind it, and so close that the bone-shakers
crashed into it, while the tricycle, turning sharply in an
effort to avoid a similar fate, collided with Cal Moody 's
velocipede. As a result, "Cracker" Bob's downfall was
immediately succeeded by that of four other riders, and
for a few minutes there was such an inextricable mingling
of boys, wheels, arms, legs, and handle-bars, that it was
impossible to tell which belonged to which, what was
what, or who was who.
The big wheel was the first to be withdrawn from the
wreck, and finding it uninjured, its rider remounted and
hastened away to try and overtake the safeties. Cal
Moody was the last of the unfortunates to be rescued, for
the clumsy tricycle had not only overturned, but had
landed squarely on top of him. He was breathless, hat-
less, and sore, while his little old velocipede was broken
beyond the hope of repair. Poor Cal felt so badly over
this destruction of what had long been his greatest trea-
sure that when some one picked up his hat and placed it
on his head he took no notice of the act. It was after he
reached home with the cold remains of his defunct ma-
chine that he discovered his gold - embroidered Road
Ranger emblem to be missing. His mother had not found
time to sew it on that morning, and so he had hastily
pinned it to the front of his hat as he was starting for the
first meet of the new wheel club. Now, although he
hastened back to the scene of the accident, and searched
diligently in that vicinity, no trace was to be found of
the badge of membership that he had considered so beau-
tiful, and of which he had been so proud. As it was the
first badge of any kind the young Ranger had ever owned
or worn, he attached an undue importance to it, and ac-
tually believed that if its loss were known his membei'-
ship would be forfeited, together with the proposed trip to
New York. For this reason he did not mention it even
to his mother, much as he longed for her sympathy.
In the mean time the three safeties had been halted
about a mile from Berks at a point where two roads con-
verged. Here in the shade of a clump of trees their riders
awaited the coming of the others who had declared an
intention to escort them to this point.
"I don't believe Cal Moody can possibly make it on
that velocipede," said Billy Barlow.
" No," assented Tom Burgess, "nor the bone-shakers
either, though the ordinary and tricycle may."
Cracker' Bob is certain to get here if any one else
does, and almost sure to, whether the others do or not;
for though he doesn't look it, he's awful plucky, ' Cracker '
is," said Captain Will. "Where do you suppose he got
that wheel, though?"
"Can't imagine," replied Tom Burgess. "I only
hope he hasn't bought it, for ordinaries have gone out so
entirely, that no one who can get anything else rides
them nowadays."
"There he comes now!" cried Will Rogers, springing
to his feet and running to the edge of the road. "Hi,
'Cracker'! Down brakes! Here we are!"
They were halted at the foot of a slight declivity, down
which the rider of the ordinary was coming at full speed,
bending low over his handle-bar, and pedalling with all
his might in his anxiety to overtake the safeties. He
was so surprised and disconcerted by Will's sudden
shout, that he instinctively obeyed the joking order, and
gripped his brake-handle. The next instant his machine
stood on its head in the middle of the road, while he,
after a short spread-eagle flight, was burrowing in a
providential sand-bank at one side, and had accomplished
header number two.
There was a momentary anxious silence as the others
sprang toward their unfortunate comrade; but, as he
struggled to his feet, and began to dig sand from his
eyes, nose, and ears, their anxiety found relief in shouts
of merriment at his expense.
" I think it's mighty mean," he sputtered indignantly,
"to startle a fellow into taking a header, and then laugh
at him for it. I didn't think you'd do such a thin?,- Will
DECEMBER 25, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
149
Rogers, though I might
have known it after the
war you ran off and
left the rest of us back
there in that crowd.
Anyhow, I'm not going
to ride any further on
this trip, so you fellows
can go on."
" Oh, pshaw, old man !
Don't get huffy at no-
thing," exclaimed Will.
" We didn't mean to run
away from you; and if
you hadn't caught up,
we would have gone
back to see what was
the matter, honest we
would. As for startling
you into taking a head-
er, you know I wouldn't
do such a thing oji pur-
pose. I didn't suppose
your wheel was such a
scary old hoss as to shy
and stand on his head
at sight of a Ready
Ranger. I thought he
was too well broke for
that, or I would have
kept out of sight."
"I expect he's well broke now, if he wasn't before,"
replied '"Cracker" Bob, with a grin at his own wit.
Anxious to conciliate him, the other boys encouraged
this indication of returning good humor by laughing
heartily at tlie joke as they picked up the prostrate wheel.
" It's all right," declared Tom Burgess,after a thorough
examination, "except this bent handle-bar, and we can
straighten that out easy enough. It looks like a first-
class wheel too," he added, conscious that the most
acceptable flattery is praise of a person's belongings.
" Where did you get it?"
''Bought it of Reddy Cuddeback," replied the owner,
with a flush of gratified pride tinging his freckled face,
"and got it dirt cheap too. He says it's such a good
wheel that if he wasn't forced by circumstances he
wouldn't sell it for what he gave two years ago, and
that was one hundred and thirty-five dollars."
Here "Cracker" Bob paused to allow his hearers to
realize the magnitude of this sum. Then he continued:
" He says. Cuddy does, that he'd rather ride an ordinary
any day than a safety, because it takes real skill, while
any hoy, or girl either for that matter, can ride a safety.
Cuddy says that safeties are good enough for old folks
and children, but that any young fellow who's got real
sand will always ride a high wheel if he can get one."
"There's something in that," remarked Billy Barlow,
reflectively, with a sly wink at Will Rogers. "And the
riding of a high wheel is calculated to give a fellow sand,
too."
"Of course it is," agreed " Cracker" Bob, unconscious
of the irony of this sentiment, though he was brushing
s.uiil from his hair at that very moment. "It takes
pluck merely to mount one, while to ride it gives a fellow
any amount of confidence in himself. Cuddy says that
you can make better time on 'em, too, and climb hills
easier, and that they are coming into fashion again in
the cities so fast, that he shouldn't be surprised if I were
offered a cool hundred dollars for this one in New York."
"I should," whispered Tom Burgess to Billy Barlow,
"for when I left home, second-hand ordinaries were sell-
ing at anywhere from s25 down to S3. and going beg-
ging at that;" then aloud he said, " I don't suppose you'd
CRACKER "BOB WAS PROJECTED THROUGH THE AIR AS THOUqp HURLED FROM A CATAPULT.
sell it, though, even for a hundred dollars, would you,
' Cracker'?"
"Well, I don't know. You see, business is business,
and though I should hate to part with such an uncom-
mon good wheel, a chance to clear sixty dollars doesn't
come to a fellow every day."
" So you paid forty dollars for it, did you?"
"Yes," hesitated "Cracker" Bob, who had meant to
keep the price of his purchase a secret. "He asked fifty,
Cuddy did; but when he found forty was all I had, and
knew how badly I wanted to take this trip, he said he'd
knock off ten for cash, seeing 'twas me."
" Seems to me you have been pretty thick with ' Cuddy,'
as you call him, in spite of the fact that the Rangers
didn't choose to have him for an associate, "said Will
Rogers, who was very jealous of the social position of
his Rangers, and anxious that they should live up to the
high standard he had set for them.
" Oh 110, not what you'd call thick, but when a fellow
does you a real favor you can't help feeling kindly tow-
ard him. Besides, Cuddy isn't so bad a chap when you
come to know him. He's a bicycle rider from the word
go, too, and was real interested in this trip. Wanted to
know just what roads we were going to take, and all about
it. Said he'd give all his old shoes to go along; but of
course there was no use thinking of it now that he'd sold
his wheel."
" Well, I for one am glad he isn't going on this trip,"
said Will Rogers, "though of course he may be better
than the rest of the Berks Mill boys. But come, fellows,
we must be getting a move on if we expect to reach
Chester to-day."
"Which road do we take?" asked Tom Burgess, who
was consulting a map of the State that, folded so as to
expose to view the section they were traversing, was fas-
tened to the handle-bar of his machine by a couple of
elastic bands.
"I don't know," replied Will. "They both lead to
Chester, and both are so bad that whichever one we
choose we'll wish we'd taken the other. The only dif-
ference is that one is hilly and rocky, while the other is
flat and sandy. They mend the lir.st by just laving logs
150
HAEPEK'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
\OLU11K XVI.
across it every few hundred feet so as to make ' thank-
ye-marms,' that are fine for sled-coasting, but mighty
rough on bicycles, I can tell you. They mend the other
by digging all the sand, mud, and weeds out of the
ditches, and piling them in the middle of the track so
that, until heavy rains come and wash them all back
again, the road is about as good to travel over as a
ploughed field."
" Hill climbing would be so tough on you fellows that
I vote for the lower road," said " Cracker" Bob.
"So do I, "laughed Billy Barlow, "forl haven't ridden
in so long that the easier we can take it for a day or two
the better I shall be suited."
"All right," agreed Will. "The lower road it is."
As he spoke he vaulted into his saddle and set forth.
Tom and Billy, making neat pedal mounts, quickly fol-
lowed him. while " Cracker " Bob, with one foot on the
step of his tall machine, and hopping with the other to
acquire headway, climbed into his saddle and brought up
the rear. He soon caught up with the naval cadet, who
had fallen behind the others, and now complained that,
beautiful as his wheel was, it ran harder than any he had
ever ridden. "I can't imagine why," he said, "for I've
oiled all the bearings I can find."
"Probably because it's new," suggested "Cracker"
Bob. "Now mine goes as easy as anything, and that's
one of the big advantages of a second-hand machine."
CHA
PTgR
IV;
A LESSON IN ROAD -MAKING.
THE little squad of wheelmen had not been gone many
minutes when a light buggy containing two lads, the
elder of whom was a solidly built, rather good-looking
chap of about eighteen, drove up from the direction of
Berks, and was halted at the junction of the two roads.
While the younger held the reins, the other jumped out
and examined the various wheel tracks imprinted in the
dust of the highway.
" They've taken the lower road," he announced, as he
re-entered the buggy, "so we'll go by the other. I could
track the whole four of them — Softy Jones on his back
number that he might have had for half the money if he
only knew a tenth part of what he thinks he does, snob
Rogers and dude Burgess on their old cushions, and Billy
Patch, the government pauper, on his borrowed pneu-
matic. A choice lot to represent Berks in the city, aren't
they? Nevermind; I think I'll manage to make things
so lively for them along the road that they'll be glad to
let bicycling alone, and stick to their little old squirt en-
gine for amusement. If I don't, my name's not —
" Baker," interrupted the younger lad, who was listen-
ing with undisguised admiration to his companion's boast.
"Don't forget that it's Baker."
In the mean time the road committee, happily uncon-
scious of the scornful remarks just passed upon them,
continued their way upon the lower road with varying
fortunes. For some miles they were able to ride after a
fashion by carefully picking their way, but finally the
two who were in the real-overtook the leaders, dismounted,
and gazed ruefully at the prospect before them. As far
as they could see the road looked as though upheaved by
an earthquake. Its sides had been deeply ploughed, and
all the loose soil was scraped into the middle, where it
formed a sandy ridge that bristled with bits of sod and
the ragged plumes of weeds.
Tom Burgess, who, being a city lad. had never seen
anything of this kind, laughed as he realized the accuracy
of Will Rogers's description of country-road mending, but
could not believe that in its present condition the job was
considered finished. " Surely," he said, " they will roll
it down solid before leaving it?"
"Not much they won't,'' replied Will. "The town
of Berks doesn't own even a horse-roller, while if you
should suggest to the Selectmen that it would pay them
to buy a steam-roller they'd think you were a lunatic.
They'd ask if you knew what one would cost, and how
much the road tax would have to be increased to pay
for it."
" How much would it be increased?" asked Tom.
" My father says not more than two mills on a dollar,"
answered Will, "and that would only be for one year.
The trouble is, though, that it would have to be paid in
cash instead of by day's work, which is the way most
every one settles his road tax now. It's the meanest kind
of a way, too, so far as accomplishing anything is con-
cerned, for you see they only have to put in a certain
amount of time, without regard to how much work they
do or how little, and so they do as little as possible."
During this conversation the boys were trudging along
on foot pushing their wheels before them, since riding over
that upturned " celery bed," as Will Rogers called it, was
out of the question. At length Billy Barlow called out:
"I say, Tom, I wish you'd see what is the matter with
this machine. I can scarcely push it, and I don't believe
it's altogether the road that makes it run so hard."
" Have you oiled the bearings?"
" I should say I had. I've put on all there was in the
can."
"Then you've given them about ten times too much.
A drop or two on each would have been better. Still,
that ought not to make it run hard. Lift your front
wheel and spin it. That's all right. Now the rear one."
The forward wheel spun around as though it would
never stop, but the other barely turned.
" There's the trouble!" cried Tom Burgess, triumphant-
ly. "Look at your chain. It's so tight that it is a
wonder the wheel turns at all. It is dry as a poker too,
while it ought always to be kept well lubricated. Oil
alone will do, but graphite wet with oil is better. Graph-
ite is something I forgot, though, and we must try to get
a supply in Chester. You said there was a bicycle agency
there, didn't you, Will?"
"Yes; I've heard there was a first-class one recently
established there, though I've never seen it."
The moment Billy Barlow's chain was loosened and
properly adjusted, his wheel ran so easily that he said it
felt like a bird set free, and he believed he could ride it
even over that road. By keeping in the ditch, which
was, of course, perfectly dry, he did manage to ride after
a fashion, as did Will and Tom ; but as poor Bob's big
narrow-tired wheel cut so deeply into the soft earth that
the only progress he could make was by taking headers,
the others finally dismounted, and walked to keep him
company.
"It doesn't seem to me that this bicycle touring is
what it is cracked up to be," remarked the owner of the
tall wheel, disconsolately, as he gained his feet after the
fourth header, while the perspiration poured down his
face and traced little rivulets in its coating of dust.
"No," agreed Billy Barlow; "and if it wasn't for the
name of the thing, we might as well be walking."
" Oh, come, fellows, don't growl!" cried Captain Will.
" Our troubles will be all forgotten as soon as we come '
to a good road."
At length, late in the afternoon, they reached the brisk
town of Chester, where they were to spend the night.
As they rode up its elm-lined main street they halted at
a shop bearing the sign "Bicycle Supplies" to get some
graphite. The proprietor met them at the door with a
smile.
" Been looking for you boys more'n an hour," he said.
"Come right in. Glad to see you. Glad to hear that
Berks is taking up bicycling. So you are Road Rangers,
are you? Ha! ha! Good name; capital name. Now
what can I do for you in the supply line, gentlemen ?"
DECEMBER 25, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
151
"How did you know we were coming, and that we
were Road Rangers?" demanded Will Rogers.
"How did I know? Why, most natural way in the
world. One of your fellows was along here about an
hour ago, and told me all about it. Bought a machine
of me, too, and I let him have it at a big discount, 'cause
he said there'd be lots of fellows in Berks want one just
like it if it suited him."
" What makes you think lie was a Road Ranger?" ask-
ed Will.
"'Cause he said so, and he wore one of them same
badges like your'n on his cap."
" Did he tell you his name?"
" Oh yes. Said it was Baker, and that his father was
the richest man in Berks. I haven't been here long my-
self, but I've heard of Squire Baker of Berks by reputa-
tion, so I knew it was all right."
"Are you sure he said Baker? Wasn't it Bacon?"
asked Tom Burgess.
" Well, maybe it was. It was either Baker or Bacon,
though I couldn't rightly say which."
CHAPTER V.
AN EARLY MORNING START.
THE information furnished by the bicycle-dealer formed
an all-absorbing topic of conversation that evening. It
did not seem likely that the unknown purchaser of a
bicycle could be Hal Bacon, seeing that he already owned
the wheel now ridden by Billy Barlow, and yet it might
have been. Hal was very fond of practical jokes and
surprises. His father might have given him the money
witli which to buy awheel, knowing that he could readily
sell it whenever lie chose to one of the Road Rangers. He
might have driven to Chester over the hill road for that
purpose, and might even now be spending the night with
some friend in town preparatory to surprising them by a
sudden appearance on the morrow. This was the con-
clusion finally reached by the committee, and their belief
in it was strengthened by the knowledge that the un-
known rider wore a Road Ranger badge. There had
only been as many of these made as there were members
of the club, and there had not been time since their dis-
tribution to have one of them copied.
" I say, fellows, "suggested Will Rogers, after they had
decided that the unknown must be Hal Bacon, "let's get
ahead of him in the surprise business, and give him a
chance to show how much hard work he is willing to do
for the sake of our company."
" How ?" asked " Cracker " Bob.
"By leaving here at daylight and running on as far
as Dorset before breakfast. He will never think of our
starting so early as that."
"Good enough!" cried the others except " Cracker"
Bob, who was feeling so lame and stiff from the day's ride
that the prospect of remounting his wheel at daylight
was not particularly fascinating. Billy Barlow was also
feeling the effects of the unaccustomed exercise, but
would have scorned to betray the fact.
Following Tom Burgess's example, they all gave their
wheels a thorough clean ing, and carefully examined every
bearing directly after supper, a practice that they kept up
during the whole trip. Directly upon the completion of
this most important of a bicycle tourist's duties they all
" turned in," as the naval cadet said, leaving an order at
the hotel office to be called at daylight.
It was a silent and sleepy quartet that wheeled out of
Chester just as the sun was rising the following morning,
and it had taken all of Will Rogers's powers of persua-
sion to get them started. Before they had gone a mile,
however, they were warmed up to their work, as well as
thoroughly alive to the beauty of their surroundings and
the delight of speeding, as only a wheelman can, through
the deliciously cool air over one of the capital roads for
which Chester is famous. Fleecy mist blankets were
rolling off the lowlands; joyous bird-notes rang out from
every grove and orchard; the voices of cattle and other
barn-yard tenants seemed to give them welcome as they
swept past; farm dogs rushed out and barked at them,
but always with wagging tails, indicative of good-will;
milk-maids waved them greetings; and farm hands trudg-
ing to their work, or riding ponderous plough -horses,
shouted after them in good-natured banter.
" Isn't it glorious!" cried Tom Burgess to Will Rogers,
as these two scorched along side by side far in advance
of the others.
"I should say it was," answered the young Captain,
breathlessly; "and we've left Hal behind too, for there
is no trace of a bicycle having passed over the road this
morning."
"Hadn't we better wait for him at Dorset?"
' ' I guess so. The joke will be on him fast enough by
that time."
It lacked a few minutes of being an hour since they
left Chester when the two leaders dashed into the village
of Dorset, hot and flushed, but keenly exhilarated by their
ten-mile spin over one of the best bits of road in the State.
They had no difficulty in discovering a resting-place, for
the rambling old-fashioned tavern, such as may still be
seen in many New England villages, was the most con-
spicuous object on Dorset's single street. As they dis-
mounted before the wide front porch, the landlord came
forth to greet them, saying:
"Hello! Hain't you boys got here sooner than you
expected? I wasn't looking for ye much afore noon, an'
thought maybe ye'd stop here for dinner."
" How did you happen to be expecting us at all?" asked
Captain Will.
"Oh, I heard all about your little trouble in Chester,"
answered the landlord, witli a meaning laugh. " I know
how you fellows would ride on the sidewalk, spite of the
notices, and how you got pulled in for it. I expect Ches-
ter's right, too, though we hain't got no such law in Dor-
set. It doesn't seem exactly the thing, though, for bicycles
to occupy the sidewalks, seeing how reckless they're gen-
erally rid."
" Of course it isn't." retorted Will. "A bicycle has no
more right to be on a sidewalk, provided the road is pass-
able, than a team has. But I don't understand what you
are driving at. We haven't ridden on any sidewalk, or
been arrested, or anything of the kind, and I'd like to
know who put such an idea into your head."
" Why, the one chap who stuck to the road.way, and so
didn't get hauled up, and who came on here last night,
where he's been waiting- for you ever since," replied the
landlord, a little sharply.
"But there isn't any such person," persisted Will.
"There are only four of us, we two and two more, who
will be along in a minute."
" Yes, he said there was four of ye, and that you was
always getting him into trouble with your recklessness.
Said he should go right on alone so as to keep out of it;
only one of you had all the expense money, so he was
obliged to wait on ye. He's a level-headed boy, I can,
tell ye, and if you take my advice you'll keep out of lots
of scrapes by doing as he says."
" But I tell you, sir, there isn't any such person belong-
ing to our party," cried Will, hotly, "and we don't know
anything about him."
"Oh, come, now," protested the landlord, with an in-
dulgent smile, " what's the use of talking that way when
he wears the same badge on his cap that you do? But
you can see him for yourselves. He was sitting on the
porch here a minute ago waiting for his breakfast. Guess
he must be in the dining-room. Just step this way."
The bewildered boys followed the landlord to the din-
152
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME A.U.
ing-room door and looked in, but the room was empi\.
Then they went out to the stable, where a hostler told
them that the young gent had "jest rid out a little ways
to see if his machine was all right," but had said he would
be back in a minute.
Fifteen minutes passed, and the mysterious rider did
not put in an appearance. Billy Barlow and "Cracker"
Bob arrived, and all hands sat down to the breakfast for
which their early ride had given them so keen an appe-
tite, but there was no sign of any other wheelman.
"Who can it be?" was the question they asked each
other over and over. Of course he was not Hal Bacon,
for though Hal dearly loved a joke, he would never de-
scend to falsehood for the sake of carrying one out.
After breakfast they stripped their wheels of mud-
guards, that not only added a useless weight, but pro-
duced an unpleasant rattling. They also reduced their
baggage by taking out a number of things that had at
first seemed indispensable, but which they now found they
could do without. All of these they did up in a compact
bundle and sent back to Berks by express. As "Cracker "
Bob had no mud-guards on his tall wheel, he decided,
contrary to the advice of the others, to reduce weight by
taking ott' its brake. He argued that as the only time he
had used it the result had been a header, he believed he
would be just as well if not better off without it.
When all was again in readiness for a start, and Tom
Burgess went to settle for their breakfast, he handed the
landlord a ten-dollar bill, and was surprised to receive
but seven dollars in change.
" I thought breakfast was fifty cents apiece?" he said.
"So it is," replied the landlord. "That makes two
dollars, and the other dollar is for your friend's supper
and night's lodging. By rights I ought to charge you
for his beakfast too, seeing that he ordered it."
" But he isn't our friend, and we haven't anything to
do with him," expostulated Tom.
"He wears your badge," answered the landlord, con-
clusively. At the same time he locked his money-drawer
and turned away, with an air that said as. plainly as
words, "I've got the dollar, and would just like to see
you get it back again."
Tom was sensible enough to realize the folly of a
quarrel with one who so evidently had the best of the
situation, and, besides, the other fellows were impatiently
calling on him to hurry. So saying, "Very well, sir, we
shall know better than ever to stop here again," he re-
joined his companions, mounted his wheel, and the Ran-
gers again took to the road.
The others were highly indignant when Tom related
what had just taken place, and "Cracker" Bob proposed
that they get even with the landlord by returning to the
tavern for dinner, and then leaving without paying for
it; but his comrades agreed that in the present case it was
wiser to submit to one extortion than to light against it.
CHAPTER VI.
TRACKING THE MYSTERIOUS WHEELMAN.
"WE'VE got to overtake that fellow, whoever he is,
anil put a stop to this thing!" exclaimed Will Rogers,
resolutely, as he bent over his handle bar, and forced his
wheel ahead with redoubled speed. The others were so
fully in accord with this sentiment that they at once
followed his example. In spite of their efforts to make
speed, however, they did not seem to get ahead very
r.ipidlv. Although the road was still fairly good, it now
traversed a hill country, and was very dusty. The pleas-
ant breeze of sunrise had increased to a strong wind that
blew directly in their faces, and no one, not even a sailor,
has iriva.ter cause to despise a head wind than a wheel-
man. To "Cracker" Bob on his lofty mount it was par-
ticularly trying, and so impeded his progress, that the
others were obliged to wait every now and then for him
to catch up. In-climbing the many hills, too, while the
safeties generally bore their riders to the very top, the
ordinary rarely carried its new owner more than halt-
way up. There it would stop, and he, dismounting, would
be compelled to ignominiously push it up the rest of the
ascent. In the descents, though, "Cracker" Bob found
some compensation, for the big wheel always out-coasted
the others, and so was always well in the lead at the
bottom. There was one other situation in which the
rider of the tall wheel had an advantage over his com-
panions. It was when they were beset by dogs — and on
that morning every dog along the road seemed to be pos-
sessed of a peculiar spite against wheelmen. They tore
after them from yards and doorways with vicious snap-
pings of gleaming teeth that invariably put the safeties to
precipitate flight, though "Cracker" Bob, secure in his
superior elevation, never increased his speed unless the
dog happened to be unusually big.
Not only did the dogs along the road express a disap-
proval of wheelmen, but the attitude of the people was in
striking coiitrast. to anything our lads had previously en-
countered. When, a few miles out from Dorset, they
halted for a drink of water from a temptingly cool-look-
ing well, overhung by a massive sweep, they were curtly
told by a burly farmer that his was not a public well,
and that if they valued their health they'd better move
on. He muttered something else about dudes and velo-
cipedes that they only comprehended sufficiently to con-
vince them that he was in a very irritable frame of mind.
"That's the first time I was ever refused a drink of
water!" exclaimed Will Rogers, indignantly, as th« dis-
appointed boys remounted and rode away.
; "Something has gone wrong with the old duffer, and
he's taking it out on us," remarked "Cracker" Bob, sage-
ly. " Doesn't it make you thirsty, though, to have water
within sight and not be able to get at it? I believe the
inside of my mouth is as dusty as this road."
"Never mind," said Billy Barlow, cheerfully. " Such
people are fortunately very rare. At the next house
they'll probably receive us with open arms, and not only
show us the way to the well, but take us to the spring-
house and give us all the cold milk we can drink besides."
" Don't I hope so!" fervently ejaculated Bob.
Billy Barlow's failure as a prophet was so conspicuous
as to be remarkable. At the next house not only did a
woman slam a door in their faces the moment she saw
them, and before they could prefer their modest request,
but they heard her calling: " Rube! Oh, Rube! Here's
some more of them pesky bicycle fellows." They also
heard a gruff voice answer, "All right; I'm coming,
quick's I get my gun."
As the boys walked slowly and still thirstily back to
where they had left, their wheels, the others looked quiz-
zically at Billy Barlow and laughed.
They rode a hot dusty mile before seeing another house,
and here they had hardly opened the front gate before a
shock-headed lad ran out, unchained an ugly-looking
bull dog, and "sicked" him on to them. This time their
retreat was rapid, not to say precipitate, and they were
thankful to be again mounted before the dog overtook
them. As it was, he chased them for nearly a mile, so
that when they finally shook him off they were breath
less and dripping with perspiration.
"Whew!" cried Tom Burgess, mopping his heated face.
"Talk about your hospitality! This beats all I ever
heard of."
"I only wish I'd brought my pistol along," remarked
Bob, savagely. " I'd have shot that brute down like a — "
He was about to say "dog." but reflecting that the brute
in question was a dog, changed it to " tiuvr."
The picture thus suggested of "Cracker" Bob Jones
shooting tigers with his little 22-calibre revolver from
DECEMBER 25, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
153
the top of a tall bicycle was so irresistible that the others
shouted with laughter.
"It doesn't seem to me a laughing matter at all,"
growled the object of their mirth. " I tell you I begin
to know what dying from thirst means, and I'm bound
to have a drink of something at the very next house we
come to, I don't care if it's guarded by fifty bull-dogs."
In spite of this confident assertion, "Cracker" Bob
didn't obtain a drink of anything at the next house, for
in front of it was a very angry woman. She wore a sun-
bonnet and flourished a broom and ran, woman fashion,
and screamed and "shooed" at a flock of the most un-
gainly long-legged
chickens that ever
set out to scratch
up a flower gar-
den and aggravate
a human being.
They had evident-
ly escaped from
the fowl-yard, and
she was evidently
striving to drive
them back to it.
She had been at it
for some time, as
was shown by her
dishevelled appear-
ance, and judging
from the tirade of
abuse she heaped
upon the fourRan-
gers the inoment
she noticed that
they had dismount-
ed before her gate,
had completely
lost control of her
temper.
" Clear out, you
young villains!"
she cried. " Don't
you dare open that
gate, or I'll teach
you what kind of
wood a broomstick
is made of. I'll
have you arrested
for trespass, too ;
and I'd have you
hung, if I could.
I've had trouble
enough with you
and your kind this
morning, so go
on."
" But, madam" — began Will Rogers, lifting his cap.
" Don't you ' madam ' me !" screamed the irate woman,
advancing toward the gate, with a menacing flourish
of her broom. "One of your kind has 'madamed' me
once too often already to-day. Oh, I know you and the
tricks you'd play on a poor lone woman! I know what
your R. R. stands for too! It means Regular Ruffians!"
By this time she had advanced with so ugly and deter-
mined an aspect close to where the boys were standing
that "Cracker" Bob said in a low voice to Will Rogers:
"I don't believe we'd better go in, I'm not so awfully
thirsty after all."
"No," laughed Will; "the invitation to make a visit
is hardly cordial enough for us to accept."
So the riders scrambled into their saddles again and
moved off, lifting their caps with ironical courtesy to the
woman as they went.
WELL, REDDY," ASKED BILLY BARLOW ..." HAVE YOD HAD ENOUGH!
" It looks to me as though there was a conspiracy on
foot to choke us to death," remarked Billy Barlow, who
was the first to break the moody silence in which the
committee were' reflecting upon the recent incidents of
their trip.
"I know that if I ever get within reach of water
again I'll lay in a supply that will last me for one
while," replied " Cracker" Bob, in a tone that threat-
ened the very existence of the first well or spring he
might happen upon.
In spite of their intense and ever-increasing thirst the
young wheelmen no longer looked forward to discover-
ing a farm-house
with cheerful an-
ticipations, but
only wondered
what might be the
nature of the re-
ception in store
for them. It was
even proposed by
"Cracker" Bob
that they should
give up their trip
and turn back, or
else finish it by
train from the first
railway station ;
but to these pro-
posals the others
would not listeii
for a moment.
They had pass-
ed over a wea-
ry stretch of road
without so much
as seeing a house,
when all at once,
at the foot of a
long descent their
ears were, greeted
by the pleasant
gurgle of water.
In another mo-
ment all four were
lying beside a tiny
brook that rippled
over moss- grown
rocks amid dense
shadows, and with
their hot faces
plunged in its cool
waters.
" Cracker " Bob
was the first to
spring to his feet.
"Ow: ow! ough! phew!" He coughed and sputtered,
at the same time dancing about and making awful faces.
The others saw that he was choking, and began to beat
him lustily on the back.
" Let up, fellows! It's gone down," he cried a moment
later in a tone that spoke both of despair and relief.
" What was it ?" asked the others, synipalliizingly.
" Did you swallow the wrong- way, or get some water in
your windpipe, or what?"
"Water in my windpipe;" repeated "Cracker" Bob,
scornfully, while the tears caused by his recent strangu-
lation trickled slowly down his dusty cheeks. " I >o you
suppose I'd have made such a fuss for a little thing like
that; No, siree; but I've swallowed something alive — a
minnow, I think. Ugh! I can feel him wriggle now.
"Trying to <;•(•( out, most likely." suggested Tom Bur-
gess. "Open your mouth and irive him a chance. I
154
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUMS xvi.
wouldn't worry about it, though. Some people prefer
their fish raw — the Japanese, for instance."
"Swallow a baited fish-line," laughed Will Rogers,
"and maybe you'll get a bite."
" Stand on your head."
"Eat a lot of stuff and smother him."
Of all these suggestions the last appeared so practical,
and was so in accord with "Cracker" Bob's own views
that he unslung his knapsack, and, opening it, displayed
a quantity of the little round oyster- crackers that had
suggested his nickname. He now fell upon these with
avidity, and either from a sympathetic hunger, or because
they feared they might have swallowed something besides
water in drinking from the brook, the others joined
heartily in the unexpected feast thus provided, nor did
they stop eating so long as a single cracker remained.
During this halt the riders discussed the discourtesy
they had met with that morning, and wondered at it.
"Do you suppose," asked Billy Barlow, reflectively,
" that it could have anything to do with the fellow who
is ahead of us?"
"I shouldn't be one bit surprised !" cried Will Rogers,
springing to his feet. "Now that I recall what the
woman said, I think it more than likely. At any rate we
must overtake him, and find out who he is, as well as
what he means by trying to get us into scrapes. So
come on, fellows. Ready to mount; mount; forward,
double quick, wheel." A minute later they were steadily
breasting the long ascent on the further side of the val-
ley, and following with keen determination the plainly
marked trail of the pneumatics that had preceded them.
CHAPTER VII.
BULL VERSUS BICYCLE.
THE Road Rangers would not have wondered at the
discourtesy with which they had been treated that morn-
ing could they have witnessed the actions of the wheel-
man whose trail they were following. He was travelling
much lighter than they, his wheel being stripped of every
bit of metal not absolutely indispensable, and unburdened
by luggage. He was dressed much as they were, and
wore a Ranger badge on his cap ; but his equipment con-
sisted of a pair of field-glasses, a vicious-looking raw-hide
whip attached to his right wrist by a leather thong, a
whistle of piercing shrillness, and a revolver, the butt of
which projected from his hip pocket. Ever since leav-
ing Dorset his sole aim had apparently been to accom-
plish as much mischief and arouse as much ill-feeling
against wheelmen as possible.
He had lashed every dog that came within reach of
his stinging raw-hide, and had even fired pistol-shots at
several. He had thrown down bars and left gates wide
open, besides trying to frighten the. horses of such teams
as he met or overtook with blasts from his whistle. He
had ridden on sidewalks, and yelled at startled pedestrians
to get out of his way. He had stopped at half a dozen
farm-houses in succession on the pretense of wanting a
drink of water or glass of milk, and had in every case re-
warded the courtesy with which he was received by some
act of wanton mischief. For these acts he never apolo-
gized, but only jeered at his victims as he rode away so
swiftly as to defy pursuit. At one place he unhooked
the bucket from a well-sweep and allowed it to drop
down the well, at another he caused the horse attached
to a milk-cart to run away and break the shafts, while
at a third he upset a baby-carriage and tossed a kitten
into the cistern. At the place where the Rangers found
the angry woman he quite won her heart by excessive
politeness, and then, while she was in the house getting
something for him to eat, he released from their enclos-
ures both her chickens and pigs. He accepted the neatly
tied package of lunch that she handed him before notic-
ing the mischief he had accomplished, and then telling
her to collect the pay he had promised for it from the
companions who were following close behind, he dashed
away.
From every hill-top he scanned the road he had just
traversed, until assured that the Rangers were still fol-
lowing. On catching sight of them he would grin,
mount his wheel, and continue his journey, planning
some new scheme for their annoyance as he went. It
was very evident that he cherished a bitter grudge against
them, and conceived this to be a capital opportunity for
paying it off. About the time the others stopped for a
rest beside the little stream he reached the summit of the
long ascent leading up from it, and there he halted until
they again took the road. Then he remounted and disap-
peared.
When the Rangers gained the place from which he had
watched their movements he, of course, was not to be
seen, and they started on an exhilarating coast down the
smooth roadway of the opposite side without a suspicion
that their unknown tormentor had so recently spied
them.
There is always a risk in coasting down a hill of which
you cannot see the bottom, and it is increased a hundred-
fold when the coast is undertaken on a tall wheel with-
out a brake, as was the case with "Cracker" Bob Jones
in the present instance. He was so anxious to prove the
coasting superiority of his big wheel over the safeties that,
without a thought of the possible consequences, he threw
his legs over the handle-bar, and started at a rattling pace
down the long hill. He uttered an exultant shout as he
passed the others at the end of a hundred-yard dash, and
swept on with' the speed of the wind. It was gloriously
exciting, but at the same time "Cracker" Bob did wish
that he had a brake with which to control somewhat his
mad flight. All at once, near the bottom of the hill, he
discovered that the road made a curve. There was bare-
ly time to hope that the way might be free of teams, and
that the curve might not be too sharp to be passed in safe-
ty, ere he shot round it and beheld a sight that filled him
with dismay.
There was not a team to be seen, and the road was still
good; but filling it from side to side, and charging with
lowered heads and uplifted tails directly toward our de-
voted rider, was a small herd of cattle. They were evi-
dently stampeded and wild with terror.
Realizing that an attempt to turn out on either side
would only result in his being dashed on the rocks with
which the road was walled, poor Bob clinched his teeth,
gripped his handles a little tighter, and drove straight
and swift as an arrow toward the very centre of the 011-
rushing herd. His only hope was that it would divide
sufficiently to let him shoot through. But the cattle
maintained a solid front, and in another instant the col-
lision came. "Cracker" Bob was projected through the
air as though hurled from a catapult. By a miracle he
escaped the wildly tossing horns, alighted on a shaggy
back, and from there slipped to the ground. There was
a minute of frantic confusion and terrified bellowing.
Then the frightened animals turned tail, and dashed wildly
away in the direction from which they had come.
The wheel ridden by Billy Barlow being provided with
a rear-axle band-brake, the best and most powerful yet
devised, he was able to check his speed and dismount
without difficulty as soon as he discovered the necessity
for so doing. The others were not so fortunate. Will
Kogers also had a rear-wheel brake, but it acted directly
against the tire, and throwing his weight as far back as
possible, he applied it so vigorously that while it checked
his speed so that he could spring safely to the ground, it
also tore a portion of the tire from the felloe. Tom Bur-
gess's brake was of an old-fashioned kind acting against
the tire of his forward wheel. In his excitement he ap-
DECEMBER 2S, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
155
plied it without his usual caution, and as a consequence
was treated to his first header from a safety.
Tom was too g-lad to have arrested the progress of las
machine at any cost to notice a trifle like that, however,
and in another moment three frightened faces were peer-
ing anxiously through the cloud of dust left by the flying
cattle in search of their comrade. To their intense relief
they found him sitting in the middle of the road bewil-
dered, bruised, and badly shaken up by his recent expe-
rience, but otherwise uninjured.
As they lifted him to his feet and brushed away the
dust and felt for broken bones, he gazed about him in-
quiringly. Finally he said, " I suppose the old wheel is
pretty badly broken up, but it would be some satisfaction
to see the pieces."
"That's so!" exclaimed Will Rogers, as he and the
others looked about them. "There isn't a sign of your
bicycle. What can have become of it?"
Just then the boys were joined by a man — red faced,
out of breath, and evidently very angry — who came from
down the road. Before he could speak "Cracker" Bob
eagerly asked him if he had seen anything of a bicycle
running away down the hill.
" Bicycle! Great Scott! I should say I had," cried the
man. " I couldn't make out what it was the old bull
had got all tangled up on his horns, but now that you
mention it, it did look like a bicycle. He was just a
ramping and a tearing, too, I can tell ye. I reckin that's
the last you'll ever see of it, leastways as a whole. I don't
know as I'm sorry neither, long's you appear to belong
to the same gang as him who did all this mischief.''
" What do you mean, sir?" demanded Will Rogers.
"Just what I say. The chap that let them cattle out
of the field and started them up this way was riding a
bicycle, and wore one of them same thingembobs on his
cap that you fellers do. I'd took notice of the cattle
tearing round the fleld like as if they'd stirred up a hor-
net's nest or something, and was hurrying down cross-
lots to find out what the trouble was. 'Fore I could get
to 'em a young feller came along on a bicycle. When
he seen the cattle, he stopped and let down the bars lead-
ing into the road. I hollered, but he didn't take no no-
tice, only just stood on the far side and waved his arms
so as to head the cattle up this way when they run out.
The minute they was in the road he fired off a couple of
pistol-shots, and they set off licketty split. I don't know
as he hit any one of them, but if I could 'a' caught him I'd
made him smart for shooting at 'em. I got pretty close
to him, but he seen me in time to jump onto his machine
and scoot. 'Long as there warn't no use in following
him, I took after the cattle, and like to get tramped when
they wheeled round. Now ef there's any damage done
I'm going to hold you fellers responsible, seeing that you
and him appear to belong to the same gang."
"And if you are the owner of the bull that has run
off with my bicycle, I shall hold you responsible for all
damage done to it," exclaimed the dismounted rider of the
tall wheel, hotly.
" Steady, Bob. steady !" advised the naval cadet. " Nei-
ther you nor this gentleman is responsible for the dam-
age done to the other's property. It all rests with the
fellow who has been playing us scurvy tricks ever since
we started on this trip, and now I mean to see if I can't
call him to account for them. How far is it to the next
town, sir?"
" What, Easily I Oh, a couple of miles or so," answer-
ed the farmer.
"Well, that chap will probably stop there for dinner,
and I am going to try and overtake him," continued
Billy Barlow. "Of course you fellows will come oil
as quick as you can, and when you get there I think
I'll have some news for you."
Thus saying, and without waiting for a discussion of
his plan, the lad from Annapolis sprang into the saddle
and set off at a rattling pace down the road, while the
others, accompanied by the farmer, followed on foot and
discussed the situation.
As Billy Barlow sped along he saw several fragments
of " Cracker" Bob's bicycle scattered by the road side, and
when he reached the fleld from which the cattle had come,
and to which they had retreated on their return flight,
he saw the big wheel itself lying on the ground, broken
and twisted beyond all hope of mending.
The young wheelman stopped for a moment to lift the
bars to their places, and then hastened on to the little
New England hill town of Easily. To his intense disap-
pointment, he learned that the unknown rider of whom
he was in pursuit had lunched there, and taken his de-
parture in the direction of the adjoining town of Westly
about fifteen minutes before his arrival.
CHAPTER VIII.
BILLY BARLOW MEETS THE MYSTERIOUS RIDER.
QUICKLY deciding upon his course of action, Billy Bar-
low ordered an easily disposed of and at the same time
strengthening lunch of a quart of milk, into which were
broken a couple of raw eggs, and in a few minutes was
again ready to take up the pursuit. He was no longer
so sanguine of success as he had been, for he now knew
that the unknown rider had nearly half an hour's start
of him over a hilly road.
"How far is Westly?" he asked of the landlord.
' 'Tain'l more 'n eight mile by railroad, but it's nigh
onto twelve by the pike," was the answer. "You see,
when the railroad was built through here they managed
to get a right of way along the old stage road that fol-
lowed Black Creek right down the valley on the easiest
grade there was. So you see —
"Excuse me," interrupted Billy Barlow, who had
been scrawling a few lines on a sheet of paper while the
other talked. "Will you kindly hand this note to three
wheelmen who will be along here shortly inquiring for
me? Thank you. Now where is the railroad station?"
A minute later saw him at the little station at the foot
of the hill asking questions of the ticket-agent.
"No, there won't be any south-bound train stop here
before six o'clock this afternoon," said that individual.
"But where are you fellows going, and why didn't you
travel together? There was another of your crowd in
here only a bit ago asking about trains. He seemed as
disappointed as you do when he found there wasn't one
till evening, and wanted to know if he couldn't ride down
the track to Westly."
"That's an idea!" exclaimed Billy Barlow. "What
did you tell him?"
"Told him? — of course not, that it's against the rules."
"What did he do then?"
"What did he do? Why, went back and took the
wagon road, of course. What else could he do?"
"Well, he might have ridden down the track, for one
thing."
" He might, might he? After I'd forbidden him? I'd
just like to see him or any one else try it on."
" Very well," replied Billy Barlow. " Look at me."
Thus saying, and to carry out a resolution he had just
formed, the naval cadet ran from the station, lifted his
wheel across one set of rails, vaulted into the saddle, and
started otf down the smooth but narrow cinder path be-
tween the double tracks of the railroad.
"Hi, there! Come back!" shouted the astonished
ticket-agent, running, breathless and bare-headed, after
him; but Billy only waved his hand without looking
back, and in another minute was lost to view.
Never before had the young wheelman found him-
self in a situation so full of exhilarating thrill and keen
156
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
excitement. With a down grade and a strong wind,
he flew along at such speed that it didn't seem as though
even a limited express could overtake him. At any
rate, lie outstripped the clouds of dry leaves whirled on-
ward by the «ale that raced with him over the forbidden
ground. There was such a roar of waters from the mad
stream tumbling and foaming beside him that lie won-
dered if it would not drown even the sound of an ap-
proaching train. He sincerely hoped not, for although
he was not riding directly on either track, he was so very
close to both that he knew he would be in a most danger-
ous position should a train overtake him unawares. The
many sharp curves of the road proved a source of con-
stant anxiety; but they were as nothing compared with
the equally numerous bridges by which Black Creek was
crossed and re-crossed. Over these he not only had to
walk directly on one or the other of the tracks, and push
his bicycle bumping on the ties, but he must carefully
watch and place every footstep as well. " If the bridges
were only decked and there were no trains to fear, what
a glorious ride it would be!"
While thus reflecting, the lad dashed into a deep rock
out. the farther end of which was lost behind a curve.
It was a forbidding place, and he was pedalling with re-
doubled vigor, that he might pass through the more
quickly, when suddenly there came to his ears the whis-
tle of an approaching train from down the road. To his
dismay, it was instantly answered, almost like an echo,
by another close behind him. Two trains were about to
pass in that cut, and even Billy Barlow's stout heart sank
like lead as he gazed on the space he must occupy while
they did so. It seemed to have contracted to half its
former narrow width, and like a flash he realized how far
the sides of cars project beyond their trucks. He took
but an instant for reflection. Then he sprang from his
wheel, and threw himself flat on the ground beside it,
face downward, between the tracks.
When, a couple of minutes later, the young wheelman
slowly picked himself up, the thunder of the on-rushing
masses that had seemed to crush and stun him was dying
away in distant rumblings, and the sickening vibrations
of the earth had ceased; but liis brain was in a whirl; he
could hardly breathe or see for the swirling clouds of
smoke and dust that filled the cut; and with that single
experience all the pleasure to be derived by him from bi-
cycling on a railway had departed. His sole ambition
for the moment was to escape from a place haunted by
fire-breathing monsters more terrible in aspect than
Eastern genii, and he watched eagerly for the fivst cross-
roads as he again flew on down the track. There was
none, however, until at length he came in sight of a
pretty station marked " Westly," and knew that his per-
ilous undertaking was ended. As he left the railway
and turned up a street that seemed to lead into the town
an excited-looking individual appeared on the station
platform and shouted after him.
" Hi, there! Come back here !"
Billy Barlow smiled at the familiar hail, but having
no further railroad business to transact just then, he only
waved his hand as before, without, looking back, and rode
on up the street. Now, for the first time since his ex-
perience in the rock cut, he bftlioun-ht himself of the
business that had brought him to Westly in such haste.
and began to watch for sonic one who would put him on
tin' road to Eastly. His plan was to ride out on this
road until he should meet a strange wheelman wearing
a Ranger badge, and after thai to lie guided by circum-
stances. While thus thinking, he spied an elderly gen-
tleman walking briskly along llic .sidewalk in the same
direction he was taking, and riding up close beside him.
he said,
"Excuse me, sir, but will you kindly —
The old gentleman fa I .-harply about at the first
word, and with a startled glance at his features, the lad
from Annapolis sprang to the ground, and stood in the
rigid attitude of attention with a hand raised to his cap
in salute.
"Eh? what's this? Who are you, sir?" exclaimed the
old gentleman sharply.
"William Barlow, sir, naval cadet and second-class-
man at Annapolis," was the answer.
" What?" cried the old gentleman, extending his hand,
while a genial smile lighted his weather-beaten features.
" Can it be Billy Patch? Why, lad, I never should have
recognized you! But what are you doing here in this
rig?"
"I'm a Road Ranger at present, sir, but am on my
way back to the Academy, and was just going to ask
you the road to Eastly."
"Eastly! Why, that lies in the wrong direction for
you !"
"Yes; sir, I know; but I have some business— I mean
I want to meet another wheelman on that road, and then
I was coming back here to spend the night."
'' Of course — of course! You'll come back and spend it
at my house, and bring your friend with you, for any
friend of a young sea-dog like you is welcome to the hos-
pitality of an old sea-dog like me."
" He isn't exactly a friend, sir. In fact —
"No matter; bring him along anyway.''
"But, sir, I expect three other Road Rangers by the
evening train, so you see —
" Bring 'em all along. The more the merrier. There
are two or three young folks staying with us now, but
we can't have too many. The house answers to the
hail of ' The Ship,' and its stands on ' Quarter-deck Hill.'
Any one will give you the bearings. Now I must leave
you, as I have an engagement to keep, but don't fail to
report with your friends before six bells, which is dinner-
time."
" Thank you, sir. I won't fail to be 011 time," answered
" Billy Patch." with another salute to the Admiral, who
was now retired, but who had been Superintendent of
the Naval Academy during the young Ranger's first year
at Annapolis.
When the naval cadet had ridden nearly two miles
without seeing a sign of a wheelman, and was beginning
to think that he had entered upon a wild-goose chase, he
came to a district school-house. Before it stood a tall
flag-pole, from which floated an American flag, not ex-
actly at half-mast, but still some feet below the mast-
head. He had been much interested in seeing flags over
the various school-houses they had passed, and provoked
to note how carelessly some of them were hoisted, but
had never thought of stopping to inquire into its cause.
Now he only wondered whether this one were half-masted
through ignorance or on purpose, and was about to pass
on when all at once his attention was arrested by a ring-
ing cheer from inside the school -house. At the same
time he noticed a very dusty bicycle leaning against the
flag-pole.
The lad's curiosity was so aroused by these things that
he was tempted to take advantage of a clump of shrub-
bery close by an open window to glance inside and see
what was going oil. It was evident that some one was
addressing the scholars from the teacher's platform, but
when Billy Barlow finally caught a glimpse of the speak-
er's face he very nearly uttered a cry of astonishment.
It was Roddy Oiihleback clad ill bicycle costume, and he
was saying to the attentive boys and girls before him:
" My father lost an arm fighting for that flag, and he
has taught me to love it more than anything else on
earl h. Half-masted it means sorrow or distress; but you
say you didn't know this, and that your flag only hap-
pens to be in that position through carelessness. So now
I want you all to come outside with me, run the dear old
DECEM13EK 26, 1394.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
157
flag up to the mast-head,
where it belongs, give it
three rousing cheers, and
promise me to treat it
with loving respect in
tho future."
Another approving
shout greeted these
words, and then, as the
whole school, including
the teacher, started for
the door, Billy Barlow
sprang on his wheel and
rode swiftly back by the
way he had just come.
At the end of a quarter
of a mile he dismounted
and waited. A few mo-
ments later Reddy Cudde-
back came dashing along
as though anxious to
make up for lost time.
The waiting wheelman
set his bicycle so squarely
across the middle of the
road that, to avoid crash-
ing into it and taking a
header, the on - coming
rider was obliged to
spring to the ground.
" What do you mean
by stopping me this
way?" he demanded, with
an angry flash of the
eyes as he recognized the
individual who thus dared
to interfere with his pro-
gress.
" I mean that I want to
talk with you, and I was
afraid you wouldn't stop
unless I compelled you
to," replied Billy Barlow.
"No more I wouldn't. And now if you don't get out
of my way I'll make you one of the sorriest chaps in this
county," cried Reddy Cuddeback, fiercely, at the same
time dropping his wheel and advancing with clinched
fists.
" I guess not," retorted the other, quietly, at the same
time laying down his own wheel and throwing himself
into an attitude of defence. He was very much lighter
in weight than the aggressive-looking fellow who was
advancing so confidently to thi-ash him, as well as a year
or so younger; but, for all that, he did not feel particu-
larly anxious regarding the result of the coming encoun-
ter. Boxing was one of the things very thoroughly
taught at the Academy, and Billy Patch had not been
backward in profiting by his lessons.
CHAPTER IX.
A FIGHT AND ITS RESULTS.
WHILE Billy Barlow, fresh from the scientific training
of the Annapolis gymnasium, was confident of an ability
to hold his own in the coming struggle, Reddy Cudde-
back was no less so. He believed success in an encoun-
ter of this kind to be wholly a matter of pluck and strength,
both of which he possessed. He rejoiced, therefore, over
the present opportunity for proving his physical supe-
riority over a member of the band admission to which
had been denied him. id was particularly pleased that it
should be that one of whom he had manifested his intense
jealousy by calling him a " government pauper." At the
A MINUTE LATER THEY SAW A SIGHT THAT THRILLED THEM WITH EXCITEMENT.
same time he was anxious to terminate the affair as speed-
ily as possible, and before the arrival of the other Rang-
ers, whom he fancied must be in that vicinity. He there-
fore determined to annihilate his slender antagonist by
a single effort, and made a furious rush at him for that
purpose. The next instant he lay at full length on the
ground, wondering what had happened. His head felt
queer. He must have stumbled and struck it in falling.
That other fellow could not have knocked him down, of
course, or else he would now be pounding him. Yes, it
must have been an accident, and he must be more careful.
Scrambling to his feet, he made another determined
though somewhat more cautious advance upon his wait-
ing opponent; but in less than a minute the result was
the same as before. This time Reddy knew he had
been knocked down, and the knowledge made him fu-
rious. There must be some mistake about it, though, and
the other fellow must be afraid of him, or else why did
he not follow up his advantage, as he himself would have
done in a similar position.
His third attack upon the naval cadet who so quietly
awaited the onset was made with such caution that he
held his ground for a full minute. Though he did not in
that time succeed in planting a single effective blow, lie
was feeling a restored confidence in his ability to do so.
Suddenly another of those terrible left-handers fhifh^l
out, and with a wild clutching of the air he again mea-
sured his length in the dusty road. As the big- fellow
slowly sat up and ruefully rubbed his aching head he re-
alized that he was fairly whipped, and at the same time
158
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
conceived a vast respect for the chap who had so skilfully
performed the task.
" Well, Reddy," asked Billy Barlow, cheerfully, as the
former made no motion to rise or continue the fight,
" have you had enough?"
"Yes," replied the humbled lad, moodily, "I've had
enough. You've licked me, and I only wish I knew how
you did it. What do you want of me now?"
"I want you to get up and shake hands and make
friends with me," answered the naval cadet, at the same
time assisting the other to rise.
" You want to make friends with me ?" repeated Reddy,
slowly and incredulously, as he regained his feet.
"That's what I said, and that's what I mean," replied
Billy. " I wouldn't have said it fifteen minutes ago, be-
cause then I hadn't heard you speak up for the old flag
in the splendid way you did back there in that school-
house. Since hearing that I have changed my opinion
of you, and now I want you for one of my friends."
"How did you know anything about that?" asked
Reddy, wonderingly, and with a very sudden change of
feeling toward his late antagonist, while a flush of grati-
fied pride tinged his cheeks.
"Oh, I was there," laughed Billy Barlow; "and just
as you came out of the school-house I rode on so as to
meet you here where no one should see us."
" Well, I didn't suppose any one who knew me was
anywhere near, or I expect I shouldn't have done what
I did. I do love 'Old Glory' though, as any fellow
would who could hear my father talk about it, and I
can't bear to see it treated anyway but just right. I say,
though, you must be a ' scorcher ' to have overtaken me,
for you fellows weren't anywhere in sight when I left
Eastly, and though the road has been hilly I haven't rid-
den slowly, I can tell you."
" I didn't come by the road, for I knew I should never
catch you that way," rejoined Billy; "I rode down the
track."
"How did you manage that? I wanted to, but they
wouldn't let me."
"They wouldn't let me, either," laughed the cadet;
" but as it was a case of necessity, I just took the matter
into my own hands. I wouldn't do it again for a good
deal, though," he added, soberly, as he recalled his experi-
ence in the rock cut.
During this conversation the two had been riding to-
gether toward Westly, and rapidly cementing the friend-
ship so strangely begun. All at once Billy Barlow no-
ticed the Ranger badge attached to his companion's cap,
and asked him where he got it.
"Picked it up on the road in Berks," was the some-
what hesitating reply; "and it was what gave me the
idea of bothering you fellows. I found out afterwards
that it belonged to Cal Moody, and now that I am
through with it, would you mind getting it back to him
somehow so that he won't know who has had it?"
"All right," answered Billy Barlow; "I think I can
manage it. But what are you going to do now? If you
are bound for New York you will ride along with us,
won't you?"
"I don't know," hesitated Reddy. "I'm bound for
New York fast enough; but I think perhaps I'd better
go on from here by train." Then, more abruptly, and
evidently with an effort, he added: " Look here. Barlow,
the fact is that I don't want to meet those other fellows
just yet, after all the meanness I've done. I don't believe
they'd take it the way you have, and if it could be kept
from them, for a while, anyway, I'd be awfully glad.
Don't you suppose you could fix it that way? I give you
my word not to make any more trouble, for I'll take the
first train south and get out of your road. There she
whistles now, and I must hurry to catch her. You'll do
that much for me, won't you? You said we were to be
friends, you know, and I'm sure you'd do that much for
a friend."
The lad's voice was so pleading as he made this re-
quest that Billy Barlow could not help but agree to do
his best not to mention the occurrences of the last hour
to the other Rangers, but he would make no promise, for,
of course, he must answer their questions truthfully.
When they reached the Westly station the train was
already there, and the cadet undertook to get Reddy's
bicycle into the baggage-car while the latter procured
his ticket. The platform was unusually crowded, and
there were several other bicycles to go, so that for a few
minutes Billy Barlow was kept too busy to notice any
one or anything beyond his immediate surroundings.
Reddy came running up with his ticket barely in time to
claim his bicycle as the train started. The two lads who
had fought each other less than an hour before parted
with a warm hand-clasp, and then one of them was left
gazing after the retreating train. To his amazement, as
the last car whisked by, he saw " Cracker" Bob Jones on
the rear platform shouting and waving his cap. Answer-
ing cap-wavings came from somewhere in the crowd,
and, guided by these, Billy was enabled a moment later
to gladden by his unexpected presence the eyes of Will
Rogers and Tom Burgess, who were just beginning to
wonder where they should find him,
"Hello, old man! how did you get here so quickly?"
and "Where did you fellows come from?" were questions
that the cadet answered by explaining that he had taken
a short cut and ridden down the track; while Will
Rogers said that as the big bicycle wasn't worth picking
up, and his own was in need of repairs, they had decided
to come that far by train and send Bob right on to New
York with a note of introduction to Mr. Burgess.
As the others began to ply Billy Barlow with further
questions, he evaded answering by saying: " I'll tell you
all about it afterwards, but now we must look up the
house of a dear old friend whom I met here awhile ago,
and with whom we are to spend the night. We are all
invited, and "Cracker" Bob too, and I can tell you it's
an honor — Why, there he is now !"
Again the naval cadet stood rigid, with his hand raised
in salute to a handsome old gentleman who carne briskly
toward the boys at that moment.
"Hello, Barlow!" he cried, at the same time courte-
ously acknowledging the salute. "So you are here.
And these, I suppose, are the friends whom I am to have
the pleasure of entertaining. Glad to meet you, young
gentlemen. Rogers, yes, and Burgess. I'll try to re-
member, though I never do. But come along, and we'll
all ride up in the carriage. The girls are waiting in it.
Came down to see one of their friends off, you know, and
so everything happens just right."
As he started off without giving the boys a chance to
reply they were obliged to follow him to the waiting
carriage, in which were seated two as pretty girls as they
had ever seen.
"Margaret, my dear, and Helen," cried the old gentle-
man, "these are the young friends of whom I spoke.
Mr. Patch, I believe, you have met, and the others are
Mr. Ranger and Mr. Bar — Oh, hang it! I expect I
am making a mess of it, as usual. Billy, square the yards
and overhaul the running rigging for me, like a good
fellow! And, by -the -way, where are the others? I
thought there were more of you."
" The others were obliged to go to New York by train,
sir," answered the cadet, after he had introduced Will
and Tom in due form to the young ladies, and his com-
panions thought how clever it was of him to speak of the
"others," as though there really were two, instead of at-
tempting to set the old gentleman right on a matter of so
trifling importance.
Then Billy Barlow explained that as lie and his friends
DECEMBER 25, 1894.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
159
had their bicycles along, it might be better for them to
ride their own wheels than to accept the invitation for
the carriage.
"Of course, if you can!" cried the old gentleman.
"How remarkably stupid of me to forget! It must take
, wonderful nerve to navigate them, though. It takes all
mine to trust myself to a carriage; but then I always
was more or less of a coward."
" Who is he?" asked Will Rogers as Billy Barlow and
his two thoroughly bewildered friends followed the car-
riage on their wheels.
"What! Don't you know?" exclaimed the naval ca-
det. "Why, it's Admiral Marlin, who was my com-
mandant at Annapolis."
" Not the hero of —
" Yes, the very same."
It nearly took their breath away to discover into what
distinguished company they had fallen, and they won-
dered how they should ever survive a whole evening of
it, especially as they had only their bicycle suits to wear.
In spite of this anxiety their fears proved groundless,
as is always the case where both hosts and guests are
of gentle breeding.
Late that evening, after all the others had said " Good-
night," Billy Barlow, who had begged fora few moments
of conversation with his host, told him the whole story
of Reddy Cuddeback, and asked his advice as to how the
Bangers should treat him in the future.
"Take him into your company and make a friend of
ill im," declared the Admiral, emphatically. "Any fellow
•who will stand up as he did for the old flag is worth cul-
tivating. Why, one of the very worst men I ever had oil
board ship resisted every effort to reform him until, at
length, I tried the effect of promotion. I made him a
petty officer, and put him on honor to set his shipmates
a good example. The result was astonishing. He not
only became steady and a credit to the ship, but he proved
one of the bravest fellows I ever saw. Jumped over-
board once in a storm of bullets to recover the ensign
that had been shot away, and was in danger of drifting
into the hands of the enemy. Another time he sprang
forward and caught on his own arm a cutlass aimed at
my head."
"So he saved your life, sir!" exclaimed Billy.
"Yes, and lost his arm in doing it. He was sent to
hospital. We were ordered to another station, and I never
•could get track of him again. Poor Reddy! I wonder
what became of him."
"Did you say his name was Reddy, sir?" broke in the
•cadet.
"Yes; Redmond Cuddeback, though the men called
Jiiin 'Reddy, 'and —
"I beg pardon, sir," interrupted Billy, excitedly, "liut
•that is the name of the very fellow I've just told you
.about — Reddy Cuddeback — and his father lost an arm
fighting for the old flag. He told me so himself."
As a result of this conversation the Admiral declared
Jhis intention of visiting Berks not only to hunt up the
man to whom he owed his life, but with a view to estab-
lishing there his permanent summer home, the house he
was then occupying being only rented for the season. " I
have heard of the place as being desirable in every re-
spect except for the condition of its roads," he said ; " and
since you young Rangers have undertaken to improve
those, I have no doubt that objection will speedily be re-
moved."
CHAPTER X.
BERKS WINS THE FIVE-MILE RACE.
So thoroughly were the thoughts of Will Rogers and
'Tom Burgess diverted by their memorable visit to "The
Ship,'* that it was not until it was over and they were
again on the road to New York that they asked Billy
Barlow what he had discovered concerning the unknown
rider who had made the earlier portion of their trip so
uncomfortable.
The cadet hesitated a moment, and then deciding it to
be the best thing to do, told his companions everything
he had learned during the past twenty-four hours about
Reddy Cuddeback and his father.
"Billy Barlow, you're a brick !" exclaimed Will Rogers,
"and if you didn't have to go back to Annapolis, I should
insist on resigning in your favor. As it is, I am going
to follow your example, and ask Reddy Cuddeback to
shake hands with me the very lirst time I meet him."
"So shall I," assented Tom Burgess, heartily.
They made a fine though uneventful run of over sixty
miles that day, and nightfall found them lodged in a
hospitable farm-house on the edge of the broad Hudson
Valley. On the next day, just as they came in sight of
the glorious river, and were about to turn into the old
post road that connects the capital of the Empire State
with its metropolis, Billy Barlow suddenly exclaimed:
"Hello! If that's not a bugle, then I'm mistaken."
• Again they heard the clear, ringing notes, and a minute
later they saw coming down the post road a sight that
thrilled them with excitement. It was a company of
'cycle militia, fifty strong, on its way to New York to take
part in the great L. A. W. parade. As it swept by in col-
umn of twos, the Captain, followed closely by a bugler
and an orderly, in advance, the Lieutenants heading their
respective platoons, sergeants and corporals in their
places, and guidons snapping in the breeze, even Billy
Barlow was forced to admit that he had never seen a
more soldierly appearing lot of fellows, while Will Rogers
and Tom Burgess were wild with enthusiasm over this
new phase of bicycling. The uniforms were those of the
L.A.W., each machine bore a knapsack in the open space
of its frame, a gleaming rifle was attached to its back-
bone, and to every handle -bar was strapped a tightly
rolled blanket enveloped in a rubber sheet. The rear of
the column was brought up by a light mess wagon hav-
ing bicycle wheels and bearings, that was at the same
time an ambulance. It was propelled by electricity from
a storage battery, though it was so arranged that horses
could be attached in a moment if necessary.
Filled with delighted wonder, our Rangers fell in be-
hind this little army of modern cavalry, and followed it
over the superb stretch of road connecting Staatsburg
with Poughkeepsie. There they all dined in the same
hotel, and the Berks boys scraped an acquaintance with
the officers of the company, who, when they discovered
Billy Barlow to be a naval cadet, cordially invited them
to share their camp at West Point that night.
What a fine run they made down the river road in
company with these newly made friends that afternoon!
What a glorious time they had at West Point, where, as
the wheel militia spent the night by invitation, they
found every preparation made for their reception ! What
a revelation of utility and comfort was the camp of the
bicycle soldiers, in which two rubber sheets drawn taut
over two stacked wheels formed a shelter that protected
both the steeds and their riders. In these tents, no mat-
ter what the weather might be, each mess of two men
could speedily prepare hot coffee, and fry a pan of bacon
to eat with their hardtack, over the little spirit-lamp that
formed part of the equipment of every 'cycle.
"We'll have a company that will do as well as that
by a year from now," Will Rogers remarked to Tom
Burgess. " If you can only come back to Berks for next
summer you shall be second lieutenant, and Cal Moody
shall be bugler, because he can play pretty well on a
mouth-organ already. As for sergeants, wre'll make them
out of the fellows who earn their wheels the quickest."
The next day they reached New York city at the top
of the beautiful Riverside Drive. From here our three
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
riders, guided by Tom Burgess, who appeared to be in a
state of unusual excitement, took one of the cross streets
leading to \Vcst Km! Avenue. As they turned down
thai superb thoroughfare, with its asphalt pavement and
handsome dwellings, Will Rogers exclaimed:
"Hello! if there isn't another bicycle company com-
ing this wav ! How is it, Tom; are all New York wheel-
men members of the militia?"'
But Tom Burgess was too busy waving his handker-
chief just at that moment to answer, and "Will wondered
what it was for. The on-coming wheelmen were in uni-
form, were riding in military order, and above their ranks
fluttered a silken guidon. Suddenly, at a sharp note of
command from a bicycle whistle, the approaching squad
halted and dismounted. At another the machines were
wheeled about so as to face the middle of the road, and
each rider stood at "attention" beside his wheel, with one
ha:;d resting on its saddle and the other raised in a mili-
tary salute.
Two of the dusty sun-browned riders in whose honor
this movement appeared to be executed were completely
bewildered by it, while the face of the third expressed
gratification but no trace of surprise. All at once Will
Rogers gave a cry of delighted amazement and sprang
from his wheel. He had just recognized the device em-
blazoned on the silken flag that fluttered above the heads
of the motionless wheelmen. It was the same as that on
his own cap. The next moment the quiet of the street
was broken by the ringing cheer of the Berks Road
Rangers. Then at Lieutenant Hal Bacon's command of
"Break ranks ! March .'" the alignment was broken, and
with a shout of welcome, the Rangers rushed forward to
greet their captain.
They were all there — Gal Moody proudly waving the
badge that had been so mysteriously restored to him by
mail just as they were leaving Berks, Mif Bowers, Abe
Cruger, Si Carew, Sam Ray, and the rest to the number of
an even dozen. Even "Cracker" Bob Jones was on
hand, and burning with impatience to tell his recent
companions that on the train he had met Reddy Cudde-
back, who, when he learned the sad fate of "Cracker"
Bob's big wheel, had proved himself one of the best fel-
lows in the world by offering to let him have a safety al-
most new for half price, with the forty dollars given for
the ordinary to be counted in as part payment.
In the joyous confusion no one noticed that Tom Bur-
gess had slipped away, but when, a little later, they aU
dismounted before a large handsome house a few blocks
down the avenue, he stood in its doorway. He was al-
ready clad in the same natty uniform of gray .cloth
trimmed with black braid as the others, and was waiting
to welcome the Rangers to his home.
In all New York there was not so jolly and outrage-
ously happy a houseful of boys as this one during the
next four days. They all slept on cots in the great bil-
liard-room, while their Wheels were stored in the ample
basement.
Complete uniforms like those worn by the others were
ready for Captain Will Rogers and for Billy Barlow
upon their arrival, and when on the following day the
Berks Road Rangers joined the great L. A.W. parade in
( ''Mitral Park, their fine appearance drew forth praise
from all sides.
"I Mi. dear!" sighed the young Captain. "I wish I
knew whether it would be better to turn the Rangers into
a bicycle lire company or into 'cycle militia;" and Mr.
liui-gess, who overheard him, suggested,
" \\~hy not combine the two and be both?"
About the wheels with which they were provided, and
which they rode every day over the smooth driveways of
the Park, Mr. Burgess made them a little speech one
evening that was something like this: "My dear boys,
you can never know how grateful I am to you for all
the kindness you have shown my son Tom during the
past summer, nor for the health and strength lie has
gained during his term of membership in the Ready Ran-
gers. You have done so much for him that I wanted to
do something for you in return, and when I learned that
you were desirous of becoming Road Rangers it seemed
to me that I saw an opportunity. You have helped me
improve this opportunity by kindly accepting Tom's in-
vitation for wheelman's week in the city. You have
further helped me by approving of the uniforms that I
took the liberty of designing and having made for you.
Now you will confer a further favor if you will accept,
these uniforms and carry them home as souvenirs of this
happy visit. As for the wheels you are riding, although
I am not a wheelman, they are all mine, and, as even
the most persistent rider could not use so many, I am
anxious to dispose of them. Do you care to become pur
chasers? If so, you may have them at something less
than the cost price.
"Some time in the spring I mean to visit Berks, and at
that time I trust you will be prepared to make me an of-
fer for my bicycles. There is one more thing I want to
say. I am in search of a suitable location in the country
for a summer residence, and am strongly inclined toward
Berks for that purpose. Its sole drawback seems to be a
lack of good roads. Tom tells me that the Rangers mean
to have good roads, and I say that if you succeed in this
undertaking you will start your village on such an era of
prosperity as it lias never seen."
These remarks were received with hearty applause by
the Rangers, and though some of them had indulged in
faint hopes that their bicycles were to be given to them.
each member determined to do his level best to earn the
coveted wheel.
The morrow being the last day of the great bicycle
meet, was also the one reserved for racing. Of course
the Road Rangers attended the races, together with an
immense concourse of enthusiastic spectators. On the
programme among the entries for the amateur five mile
race the boys discovered one who appeared as "The Un-
known from Berks," and, curious to see who it might be,
they awaited this event with a very lively interest. It
was the last on the programme, and called out so many
starters that for some time they failed to discover a famil-
iar face. Within a few laps of the finish two of the con-
testants were so far in the lead that it was evident, bar-
ring accidents, the race lay with one of them. Suddenly,
as the flying figures passed the place occupied by the
Rangers, "Cracker " Bob Jones sprang to his feet, waving
his hat, and yelling: "It's Reddy Cuddeback, fellows!
Good for you, Reddy! Whoop her up! Lay him out!
You've got to win !"
In an instant the others took up the cry, cheering for
Berks and Reddy Cuddeback like madmen. As though
spurred on by the sympathy denoted by these friendly
shouts, Reddy Cuddeback shot to the front, not only win-
ning the five-mile race, but breaking the American rec-
ord for that distance, and becoming in a moment the hero
of the day. The Rangers rushed on the track to congrat-
ulate the plucky rider who had brought such fame to
Berks, and, raising him on their shoulders, bore him with
ex lilting shouts to the dressing-room. As they waited out-
side for Reddy to appear, that they might again shake
hands with him and congratulate him and show how
proud they were to be fellow-townsmen with him, Billy
Barlow said very quietly to Will Rogers,
"Wouldn't it be a good thing to invite him to go home
on the train with you, and wearing a Ranger badge?"
" Of course it would," replied the young captain, hear-
tily. " But do you think he'll join?"
"Yes, I think he will,"' answered Billy Barlow, with a
confident smile. "At any rate, I'd ask him." *
HARPERS
H
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1894, by HAKPKH i BROTHERS. All Rights Re!
PUBLLSHKL* WKKKLY.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 792.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JANUARY 1, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPT.
TWO DOLLARS A TEAIl.
BOYS AND GIRLS OF NEW YORK STREETS.
BY E. W. TOWN SEND.
I.— A STREET -WAIF'S LUCK.
rpHERE was nothing, except perhaps a little more rag-
1 gedness, in the appearance of Danny Cahill different
from the other boys lie was playing with under one of
the stone arches which support the heavy and solid road-
way leading to the New York side of the great Brooklyn
Bridge.
The streets under those arches were favorite playing-
grounds for Danny and his companions for several rea-
sons. They were interrupted less there by passing teams
and people than in the open streets; there were no win-
dows to be broken if they were playing ball; and the
police officers did not drive them away from there.
which was the best reason of all — to Danny especially, for
he had found very few places where, whether he was do-
ing anything or nothing, he did not seem to be in the
way of the police.
There was once a place which Danny called home, but
even there the police came pretty often — not for him, but
for the man he lived with there. He knew very little
about the man, and nothing good; yet Danny at that
time was not much given to thinking or arguing about
his rights or his duty, or else he might have asked some
questions about the man he lived with. He remembered,
in a not very clear way, that lie went to live in the room
162
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLDME XVI.
with that man one day after a funeral in which both lie
and the man seemed to be interested. His relation to the
man he lived with did not seem to be of any importance,
and so, after hearing a boy talking about an uncle, and
learning that the uncle was the boy's father's brother,
Danny made up his mind that as the man he lived with
was named Cahill, he was his uncle, and that the funeral
he remembered something1 about must have been his
father's. He did not remember that he had ever had a
mother. Uncle Cahill was about as good-for-nothing as
any man Danny had ever seen, and it came in his way to
see some great good-for-nothings.
There was very little in the room they lived in which
would remind you of home. There was but one bed, or
rather some broken pieces of furniture on which the
blankets were spread which was called a bed; one chair,
which served as a wash-stand, for it always held the tin
wash-basin; and some scraps of iron on which the pieces
of wood Danny had to pick up in the streets were used
for fuel when anything was cooked in the room. That
was not very often.
Danny's uncle called himself a longshoreman, because
what little honest work he did was done along the
wharves of the East River. But work of any kind did
not suit Mr. Cahill, and when he found that by forcing
Danny to beg he could thus procure enough to make
work unnecessary, he said that he was too sick to work.
Begging was not at all to Danny's liking, although he
had such a handsome little face, and was dressed in such
miserable rags, the people he begged from near the en-
trance to the Brooklyn Bridge and in City Hall Park
gave him pennies and nickels in such number that some-
times, in an hour or two, his uncle, who always lounged
near by to see what the people gave, would take the
money from him and disappear.
Danny had very little education from books, but he
had a sorrowful amount of education from the life of the
tenement where he lived, and he knew wellxnough what
it meant when his uncle hurried away with the begged
money. It meant that he would not see him again that
day at least, for his uncle would not bother him again
until that money was spent for drink. Sometimes it
meant that he would not see him again for a week or
.two weeks, and then he knew that his uncle had been
arrested for fighting and drunkenness.
The truth is that he was never sorry when this hap-
pened. If he had been reared with a different kind of
life around him he would have had a different feeling, of
course, about the matter, and felt sorry for the bad life
which kept his uncle in jail so much of the time. But
as his uncle's imprisonment meant Danny's liberty, he
was rather sorry when the landlord unlocked the door of
their room again, for that meant that his uncle was out
of jail and Danny must beg for him again.
You may ask what Danny did for a home when he
was locked out of the room. That question gave him no
trouble. Even when he lived at home he had to get his
food the best way he could, but he knew so many cooks
and waiters in the boarding-houses and restaurants along
the East River that he never ha.d to go hungry. Some-
times he ran errands and did light work around the
kitchens for the cooks, but even when they had no work
for him to do they were always willing to give him
scraps of meat and bread when he asked for them.
Danny, when he was at liberty, I mean when he was
not forced to beg, was an unusually cheerful and manly
little fellow, and that made him a favorite not only with
the good-natured cooks in the sailors' boarding-houses,
but made him friends in other places where friends were
useful. Among his other friends were the night watch-
men on the East River piers. There were a number of
those watchmen who would let Danny slip into the pirr.s
to sleep any night he told them he was locked out from
home. They knew without asking any questions what
that meant, and more than once one big watchman, at
whose piers a line of freight steamers loaded and un-
loaded, would point out a pile of wool or cotton bales for
his bed, and give him some bags for bedclothes.
This sort of life did not suit Danny, although there
were many of his companions who sold papers who en-
vied him. Curiously enough it was those very boys
Danny envied. He had always wanted to sell papers
and earn enough money to pay for his own room and
meals, but that did not suit his uncle. Begging was a
quicker and cheaper way of getting money, to Mr. Ca-
hill's mind. Danny had asked him once to leave him
enough pennies to start in business a.s a newsboy, but he
was only threatened with a thrashing for his request.
Now a curious thing about Danny was that he would
not beg money for himself, even to start in business with,
so that when Mr. Cahill was in jail Danny was nothing
better, I am bound to say, than a street arab. All the
streets under and around the Bridge, and all the East
River piers for half a mile up and down the river, he
knew as well as any school-boy knows every corner of
his school yard. He knew by sight every policeman on
all those beats, to what precinct station they belonged,
and the names of their captains. He knew where all the
fire-engine houses were, the numbers by which the en-
gines, hose-carts, and hook and ladders were called, and
could tell to what hospital any ambulance belonged with-
out reading the name printed on its side.
He could tell by the stripes, stars, cross, or other sign
painted on a steamship's smoke-stack to what line she be-
longed, and to what country she carried freight or pas-
sengers; but I'm afraid he could not come anywhere near
telling you where that country was, even whether it was
in the eastern or western hemisphere. The fact is that
nearly all of Danny's learning was what his street life
taught him. He had a hard teacher, and had to pass
hard examinations. They were not just like the exam-
inations one has at school, for they were usually ques-
tions by older boys regarding steamships, fire-engines,
the limits of the police precincts, and such things, and as
an ignorant answer always brought on a fight. Danny's
muscular and mental development went hand in hand.
After two weeks of this vagabond liberty Danny had
been found one day by his uncle, only an hour before we
first saw him, playing under an arch of the Bridge. Mr.
Cahill had just been discharged from jail, and as he had
had nothing to drink in those two weeks, and had been
made to scrub floors and do other work, he was in a par-
ticularly unpleasant frame of mind.
"Have you any money?" was Mr. Cahill's first ques-
tion, catching Danny roughly by the collar of his ragged
jacket.
" Of course I 'ain't," Danny answered.
" Well, then, get up to the Bridge entrance, and get
some mighty quick if you don't want a good licking," his
uncle said.
Danny walked toward the Bridge rather sullenly. He
did not like begging at all, and he was beginning to think
that he was paying too high a price for the privilege of
sleeping on the bare floor of his uncle's room. Cahill
slouched after the boy, and when he reached the Bridge
entrance leaned against the rail of the stairs which run
up to the elevated road station there. Danny let a num-
ber of men and women pass him without begging, and
Cahill, who had been watching him closely, walked tow-
ard him with a scowl, and as he passed him s\y]y gave
the boy's arm a terrible pinch.
Danny yelled with pain and rage, and a half hundred
people stopped to look at him, and some ran toward Jiim.
The first person by his side, however, was a police offi-
cer who had been quietly watching both Danny and Ca-
hill. The officer grabbed the man first, and then laid a.
JANUARY 1, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
163
hand on Danny's shoulder. In a moment almost they
were surrounded by half a thousand people, for it was
iiearing the afternoon hour, when travel over the Bridge
is greatest. Men, women, and children crowded around,
asking questions of the officer and sympathizing with the
boy, but the only one of these the officer paid any atten-
tion to was a rather tall thick-set man, whose heavy face
seemed to Danny to express as much kindness as stern-
ness. He asked the officer in a low tone what the trou-
ble was, and the officer answered, in a manner which
Danny instantly detected to be unusually polite, that the
man had been forcing the boy to beg. The stranger
looked at Danny curiously a moment, and then said to
the officer, "I suppose the boy will be given to the So-
ciety."
"I suppose so," the officer replied; and then, to every
one's astonishment. Danny set up a bitter wailing.
It was to the surprise, I should have said, of every one
but the officer and the stranger, for they both knew the
horror and despair which filled the boy's mind at the
thought of being given into the custody of the charitable
and reform institution which they called "the Society."
That Society does great good daily, and it is a welcome
refuge to a majority of the unfortunate children it cares
for, but they are not arabs as Danny was. He knew what
the Society was from the stories of boys of his class who
had escaped from it, and he knew that its rules and regu-
lations, and most of all its confinement, would fret his
life out.
The stranger looked at him with a rough sympathy, and
whispered something to the officer. Danny felt the police-
man's grasp on his shoulder relax, and in an instant he
was squirming between the legs of the crowd and was
lost.
The stranger winked at the officer, smiled a little, and
quickly forced liis way in the direction Danny had taken.
The boy scuttled through the crowd like a rat, and darted
down Frankfort Street, which runs from the City Hall
Park down past the Bridge arches. He stopped crying
the instant he made his escape, and was thinking hard,
trying to make up his mind who the big stranger with the
shiny silk hat and the rich black clothes could be. His
experience made him know that he was a person of great
importance. The policeman had spoken to the man very
civilly, and had let Danny escape at the man's hint.
"Well," concluded Danny to himself, "I don't know
who de mug is, but he's got a big pull, whoever he is,
sure."
Danny had heard that word " pull " used in its slang
sense often enough to know that it meant a strong political
influence, but why any one should want to use a " pull"
to save him from " the Society" was too much for his
little head to make out, so he gave it up, and stopped
under one of the arches to play. And there it \vas, and
at that time, we first found him.
He had not been there more than ten minutes before
he was surprised to see his big friend walking slowly
down Frankfort Street, evidently looking for some one.
He motioned to Danny when he saw him, and the boy
ran to him across the street.
"The officer told me," the stranger began, "that the
man with you is named Cahill. Is he your father?"
"No, he's me uncle, I tink," Danny answered.
" Is his name Terrance?"
" No, dey calls him Terry."
" Well, that's near enough," the stranger answered,
with a smile. " If he is Terrance Cahill and your uncle,
I knew your father. How are you getting on?''
"I ain't getting on at all," Danny answered. " If I
had a stake to buy papers wid I'd be all right."
"How much of a stake would do you?"
Danny began thinking very hard. He saw the stranger
put his hand in his pocket, and of course the boy was
sharp enough to know that here was his chance, without
begging, to secure money with which to start business.
He stood with his cap off, and his head cocked on one
side, trying to decide whether he should ask for ten or
fifteen cents, when his trouble was ended by the big man
saying,
" Could you make a start with a dollar?"
This nearly took the boy's breath away, and all he
could answer was,
"Sure!"
The man took out four silver quarters and gave them
to Danny, ten times as much money as he had ever owned
before in his life. He squeezed the silver so tight in his
hand that it hurt, but he said nothing, only kept looking
at this remarkable man, wondering what would happen
next.
"I don't give you that money," the man said. "I
lend it to you. When will you repay me?" This was
more of a business than Danny could quite understand,
so the man, seeing the boy's puzzled look, added, "You
must come every Saturday to my office in the Tivoli
Theatre, and pay twenty-five cents, or what you can, until
the dollar is repaid."
"Are you Mr. Kean?" Danny asked, quickly, his eyes
opening wide.
" That's right," Mr. Kean answered with a smile. "Do
you know me?"
" Everybody in our district knows de name of de owner
of de Tivoli Theatre," Danny said.
"Then you'll come on Saturday and pay what you
can," Mr. Kean said, as he walked away.
" Dat's right," Danny called out after him.
That night Danny slept on a bale of hides from Central
America. It was long before he could go to sleep, he
was so excited thinking of the next day, when he should
start in business for himself, but when he did sleep, his
last night on the piers, he dreamed the happiest dreams
of his rough little life.
MILITARY SIGNALLING.
DURING- the autumn the armies of Europe have
been marching and countermarching, charging and
retreating, all over the respective countries that they
have been organized to defend, experimenting with all
sorts of new arms and engines, and applying new tests
to the old methods of warfare. But perhaps the most in-
teresting thing to the casual observers at these great au-
tumn manoeuvres was the number of contrivances used
for keeping open communication between various regi-
ments, army corps, and divisions. Of course we all know
how difficult it must be in time of war, especially in an
enemy's country, to send back information from the
front, or to notify another column of the presence of an
enemy when the telegraph wires are cut, or if there are
no telegraph wires in the neighborhood. Armies have
therefore adopted all sorts of ways of signalling to one
another, some of which can be used by day, some by
night, and others both by daylight and in the darkness.
All these methods were brought into pla.y at these Euro-
pean manoeuvres, and their value in aiding the move-
ments of large bodies of men was proved to be inval-
uable.
In some cases whole regiments were saved from cap-
ture or total destruction (imaginary destruction, of course)
by having the news signalled to them from some distant
point of what had happened there, or of what might be
expected to happen in the neighborhood of where they
were. Wherever there is a telegraph line an army will
always seize it, and make use of the instruments and
wires to keep in communication with its base of supplies
ir.4
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
or witli headquarters iu the rear. When the regular and hear through. A telephone line like this can be
wires are destroyed, however, it becomes necessary for the rapidly set up, as a wagon can carry the bamboo poles
signal corps to lay 'a field telegraph line, several miles along, and a man with a coil of wire on his back can lay
of which can be run from the front back to headquarters
in a very short while. The lield telegraph office is usual-
ly established in a covered wagon, fitted inside with ev-
" T T
the line as fast as his companions can stick the poles into
the ground.
But it frequently happens that the enemy is so active
erything that is necessary for sending and receiving mes- that neither telegraph nor telephone lines can be main-
and provided with several coils of wire Mid many tained, or the bodies of troops are in such a position that
pronged sticks. These sticks are stuck in the ground,
and support the wire
where trees or roofs
or convenient poles
are not to be found.
Sometimes it is ne-
cessary to lay the
field telegraph so
rapidly that the sol-
diers do not take the
trouble to suspend
the wire, but just lay
it flat along the
ground, running it
over sticks only.
where the road or a
stream must be
crossed.
In one part of
France this fall the
manoeuvres consist-
ed of an attack by
an entire army corps
upon a large fortress.
The defenders of the
fort had established
many redoubts and
outposts on hill-tops
and in farm-houses
and in windmills.
All these outposts
were connected by
telephone. The men
of the signal corps
strung the wires sev-
eral days before the
attack was expected,
so that when the en-
emy appeared the
lookouts were en-
abled to converse
with their superiors
inside the fortress
just as if they had
been only a few yards
away.
The country all about the fort was mapped out and
divided into squares that were either numbered or letter-
ed, and the soldiers knew exactly how to aim the can-
nons and mortars in the fort so that the shells would
drop in certain places. In actual warfare the pickets
would telephone to the commanding officer that a squad-
ron of cavalry was approaching behind a hill to the
north, or that several regiments of infantry were hiding
in a bit of woods to the south. Then the big guns in the
fort could be trained on the woods or on the depression
behind the hillock, and shells could be dropped on the
enemy's advance-guard even while he was out of sight,
and the invading force might thus be prevented from se-
curing an advantageous position from which to attack.
The telephone system used by the French soldiers on
this occasion was a campaign outfit that could easily be
transported any distance. It was very simple, consisting
merely of coils of copper wire, of pronged bamboo poles
for supports, and of mouth-pieces and ear-pieces to talk
RECALLING TROOPS BY WIGWAGGING.
they cannot establish that sort of communication, or the
advance is so rapid
that there is no time
to waste on so elab-
orate an arrange-
ment. Yet commu-
nication must be
kept up, and so the
signal corps has to
be able in some way
to talk at long range.
By day this can be
done with flags, or,
if the sun is shining,
by using the helio-
graph. At night,
torches and flash
lanterns are used.
Wigwagging with
flags is the most com-
mon and also the
most reliable of any
of these devices, and
is the system used
by all the armies of
civilized nations.
The signal - men of
the United States
Army are particu-
larly proficient in
this sort of thing,
and they are also
champions with the
heliograph. In
Utah, a few weeks
ago, Captain Glass-
ford, U.S.A., sent a
message one hun-
dred and eighty-
three miles with no
intermediate station.
He now holds the
world's record for
long-distance signal-
ling with the sun
machine.
The heliograph is a very simple instrument, but it is,
unfortunately, of no use unless the sun is shining. It
consists of a mirror with a hole in the centre, and back
of this hole is a brass rod. The mirror is mounted on a
tripod, and the operator telegraphs to a distant point by
sighting over the brass rod, through the hole, to the point
where the man is who is watching for the message. The
rays of sunlight are flashed through space in dots and
dashes — that is, either in short or long rays. The short
rays correspond to the dots in the Morse telegraphic code,
and the long rays correspond to the dashes. So that a
word telegraphed by rays of sunlight is sent on the same
principle as a word ticked over a telegraph wire, except
that with the heliograph the receiving operator sees the
spelling, whereas the ordinary telegraph operator hears
the spelling.
It makes no difference, however, whether the sun is
out or not when it comes to sending a message with flags.
The signal-man takes his position on a hill, or on some
JANUARY 1, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
165
elevated position, and waves his flag until
he has attracted the attention of the soldiers
at the post he is signalling1 to. Another sol-
dier beside him with a spy-glass and a note-
book says, "All right, we've got "em!" and
the flagman begins to send his message.
The dots and dashes are made by motioning-
to the right or to the left. Perhaps he is
telegraphing across a river to a body of sot-
diers who have been sent off on a foraging
expedition. Such an incident occurred in
our late war. The foragers were less than
a hundred in number, and had no other
means but flags to keep in communication
with the main body across the river. News
came to the camp that a force of Confeder-
ate cavalry was approaching, and that in
less than two hours they would surprise the
foragers and capture all the animals and
food they had gathered. This important in-
formation was wigwagged through the air
much faster than the Confederates could gal-
lop across the fields.
"All right," came the answer from the
foraging party. "We shall retreat across
the river at once." And they did so, ani-
mals, soldiers, provisions, and all, and when
the rebels came up they found only a few
cows that had refused to swim the current,
and that the Federal soldiers had been
forced to leave behind.
At night a torch is substituted for the
flag, but a message cannot be transmitted to
a greater distance than three miles with a
torch, because the arc made by the waving
of the light cannot be distinguished much
further than this. For this reason a belter
device for long-distance signalling by night
has almost universally been adopted. It consists of a side, and by opening and shutting it for a greater or
plain lantern provided with strong reflectors behind, and less period of time the dots and dashes are made. Such
with a shutter in front which looks very much like a win- a lantern can be read with a night-glass ten or twelve
dow-blind. This shutter is operated by a handle at the miles away, and even with the naked eye can be read
about seven miles. If electric light
should be used in such a signal lantern
the flashes could, of course, be seen a
much greater distance.
Every army has its secret code by
which it sends messages, so that it makes
little difference that all nations use the
Morse system of dots and dashes in sig-
nalling. Even if the enemy did inter-
cept the words that were being flashed
through the air by flags or lanterns, he
could not understand their secret mean-
ing unless he had the key to the code,
and each nation in Europe is very care-
ful to see that his neighbor does not find
out about its secret alphabet.
Some people may question the neces-
sity of all these different methods, but
supposing New York was being attacked
by an enemy's army. Let us say that
our harbor forts are so strong that the
enemy cannot get in there; but he lands
armies at unprotected points north and
south of the city. Then the invaders ad-
vance on us, and their scouts cut our
telegraph wires, so that we are practic-
ally shut off from the rest of the country.
But we have one resource left to keep a
watch on them. We station our signal-
corps men on the hills and mountains
FLASHING SIGNALS AT NIGHT FROM FORT TO FORT. around the city, and others on tall build-
TELEGRAPHING DESPATCHES FROM THE FRONT TO HEADQUARTERS.
166
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
ings in'town. An officer on High Tor, in the Catskills,
for instance, wigwags that the enemy is approaching
Elizabeth, New Jersey; and if it gets dark before lie can
send all the information that he has gathered he signals
the rest with a flash lantern.
From the other direction, over on Long Island, perhaps,
other squads of signal-men have been sending in news
with a heliograph, so that the commander of the troops
in New York, even if his wires are down, is able to dis
pose of his men to the best advantage for the defence of
the city. If he finds himself in hard straits he will sig-
nal over the enemy's head, across his lines, to the rest of
the country beyond, and in a very few days help will
come pouring over the hills toward Manhattan Island-
help that will wipe away the enemy, and set the tele-
graph wires up again, and make those invading fellows
wish they had never tried to get in sight of Trinity Church
steeple.
A LARGE SUPPLY.
EY must bave a lot of giants,"
Said Mabel at the l>l:iy,
"Because my Papa says that
They kill cue every day.
" And this small play's been running
For sixty-seven days —
That's sixty-seven giants,
Not counting matiue'es."
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.1
BY \V. J. HENDERSON.
CHAPTER XVII.
"CLEAR SHIP FOR ACTION!"
" "VTOU may get an opportunity to-morrow to show —
J[ The dull regular pulsing of the engine of the De-
troit's launch was all that was heard for several minutes,
while the distance between the little craft and the ship
rapidly diminished.
" Mr. King," said the Captain suddenly.
"Yes, sir," answered Harold, respectfully.
" What I said to you a moment ago was intended only
for the ears of an officer. You understand, sir?"
"Yes, sir; I shall be silent."
"Quite right. You are young in the service, and you
cannot learn too soon that between-decks gossip is idle
and injurious to discipline."
"Ay, ay, sir!" said Harold, rightly construing a sug-
gestion from his commanding officer as an order.
A hundred eyes, filled with expressions of curiosity,
were fixed on the launch as she ran alongside the ship.
Grave-looking old "waisters" peered out of the broad-
side ports, their hardy faces showing brick-red beside the
dusky bronze of the shapely four-inch guns. Lively fore-
castle Jacks leaned in unconscious grace over the rails
and studied the Captain's countenance. The officer of
the deck stood on the starboard side of the poop, with
the faint crimson light of the western sky flaming along
the edge of his polished visor, and silently watched his
superior mount the ladder, followed by the young cadet.
Harold stood by for orders on reaching the deck, expect-
ing to be told to see the launch secured for the night at
the port boom, where she had been allowed to lie.
"Mr. King," said Commander Brownsou, lifting his
head suddenly, as if breaking out of a reverie.
"Ay, ay, sir!"
* Beguu in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 784
" Get the launch alongside and lower away her
falls."
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the boy, moving away to exe-
cute the order. It was now nearly eight bells, when it
would be his watch below; but orders must be obeyed.
The Captain paused a moment before his cabin-door and
sent a keen look aloft and along the deck. A shadow
of a smile passed over his bronzed face as he turned and
said to the orderly:
"Present my compliments to the Executive Officer,
and say I wish to see him in my cabin."
The orderly saluted and moved away. A pale yellow
glare of electric light flashed and faded as Commander
Brownson passed through the door to his cabin. It was '
growing dark between-decks, though the twilight was
still fair enough to make all things visible without.
Eight bells were struck, and the interior of the ship rum-
bled with the tread of feet as the watch below tumbled
up to relieve the watch on deck. The forecastle Inds
stretched themselves and yawned, as they rolled below
ready to turn to for a good-night pull at their pipes.
Evening quarters were over long ago, and hammocks had
been piped down, so Jacky had only to comfort himself
till he was ordered to turn iu. The sailor is an easy
fellow, and he learns to take things as they come. So
when the Captain returned from the meeting aboard the
flag-ship and gave no special orders, Jacky dismissed the
incident from his mind.
George Briscomb, as midshipman of the quarter-deck,
had been at the gangway when the Captain came aboard,
and had heard his order to Harold. So as soon as he
was relieved, George asked permission to go and assist
Harold. He discovered the launch lying below her davits
with her falls hooked on, so he swung himself over the
rail, slid down the after-fall, and landed in the boat be-
side his astonished friend.
"Why, Georgie, what are you after?" asked Hal.
" I just want to have a little talk with you in a place
where we can be by ourselves."
The engineer of the launch was busily engaged draw-
ing his fire, and the cockswain and two other hands were
forward. Yet, as a matter of precaution, the two boys
leaned over the stern with their faces toward the water.
"Now, George, heave ahead," said Harold.
"Don't talk salt, old man," replied George, with a
smile: "it's not natural to you."
" I'll talk like a Maine farmer if it'll please you, George ;
but what do you want?"
" Did you find out what the meeting was for?"
"No; how could I do that?"
"I didn't know but the old man might have dropped
you a hint."
"My dear George, do you suppose that our venerable
commanding officer, to whom you refer, with the irrever-
ence of the merchant service, as the old man, has sudden-
ly formed a resolution to take steerage officers into his
confidence?"
" Now, Hal, don't sit on me. You know I don't mean
anything of that sort. Didn't he let slip any remark
that signified anything?"
"Yes," said Harold, slowly, " he did."
"What was it?"
"I can't tell you; he cautioned me to keep my coun-
sel.''
" But surely you won't keep it from me!"
"I must, George. You wouldn't respect me if I didn't."
George knew in his heart that this was true; but it did
seem hard to him that his friend should know more about
the secrets of the fleet than he did.
"I suppose you're right, Hal," he said, mournfully.
" Oh, I say, don't be so sad, Georgie," said Hal, smiling.
"Perhaps his words didn't mean so very much, you
know."
JANUARY 1, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
167
" Well, I don't believe that meeting aboard the flag-ship
was held just to talk about the weather. My ! but I can't
help feeling excited inside. I'm sure —
His words were cut short by the sudden burst upon the
air of a long shrill piping from several whistles at once.
The two boys sprang- to their feet, and looked intently at
one another as they waited to hear what words would
follow. The whistles ceased, and a sonorous bass voice
cried, " All-1-1 hands, clear ship for action!"
CHAPTER XVIII.
WAS IT ONLY A DRILL?
"GRACIOUS!" exclaimed George. "That means busi-
ness!"
"Don't stop to talk," said Harold. "Let's get to our
stations."
" And I must get my sword."
In a few moments the two boys were aboard the ship
properly accoutred, and at their posts. When the order
is given to clear ship for action the officers and crew as-
semble in the parts of the ship to which they are assigned
by the general station bill. As the boys clambered aboard
they heard the whole interior of the steel hull resounding
with the rapid tread of feet, and though absolute silence
is required at such times, it would have been strange if
Jacky had not muttered a few complaints about a "bloom-
in' moonlight picnic when I ort to be doin' forty winks
in my hammock." But the discipline of the crew was
too good to permit such remarks to be made loudly, and
as a rule the men sprang to their stations with alacrity.
As the boys hastened to their places they noted that Com-
mander Brownson and Mr. Crane, the Executive Officer,
were on the bridge, the former with his watch in his
hand.
"Going to see how long it takes to do the trick,"
thought George.
The men attached to the navigator's division were as
busy as bees. Indeed, all hands were hard at it. In the
first place the steam-launch and the other two boats that
were in the water had to be hoisted up. The sharp pip-
ing of the boatswain's whistle urged the men at the falls
to put their strength into their work, and with much
rattling and groaning of blocks the boats rose to their
places, where they had to be secured by the gripes and
with extra lashings as if the Detroit were bound to
sea.
" In with those boat booms," said the boatswain.
Some jumped to let go the forward guys, others to
haul away on the after-braces, and others to attend to
the topping lift-tackle. The lively fellows stationed in
the tops sprang aloft with the activity of cats. Those in
the foretop speedily rigged a couple of quarter-lifts on
the signal yard, so that it should not fall down on deck
and injure some one if it were shot away. Then the
same hands set to work to sling the fore-gaff in extra
chains, with the same object in view. The main-gaff was
similarly supported.
"Now, then, shake a leg there," said Harold, who was
assisting the officer of the forecastle. " Clear away all
that spare stuff."
The willing tars jumped about with celerity at their
work.
"Mr. King," said the officer of the forecastle.
" Ay, ay, sir."
"Give special attention to the ground-tackle, and see
all in perfect order."
"Ay, ay, sir," answered the boy.
"Don't forget to get the fish-davit out of the way."
" No, sir."
Every nook and corner had to be cleared of odd arti-
cles lying about loose, for such things would prove to be
in the way when the time for fighting came. Of course
the men aboard the Detroit were not dreaming of fight-
ing. It is no uncommon thing for a Captain to turn his
crew out, call them to quarters, load and fire the battery,
even at sea, in the middle of the night. In fact, he is re-
quired to do this at stated periods to test the efficiency of
his crew. This is what the men of the Detroit supposed
was about to happen, though some of them suspected that
there was something beneath all this, and none of them
could see just how the firing part of the drill could be
accomplished in the harbor.
" I s'pose it 'II be up ' killiek ' an' git to sea in the mid-
watch," said one old growler.
" Werry good," answered the philosophical Peter; " if
them's the orders, we ups it an' we gits."
" But wot's the use?" continued the grumbler.
" Mos'ly fur to see," answered Peter, " whether it are
the ossifers or the men wot's a-riuinin' this 'ere ship."
"Waal, I think it's all nonsense."
"Keep quiet there, and mind your eye," said George,
who had just come up.
"Bloomin1 young popinjay," muttered the man under
his breath.
The quarter-deck awning had been taken down, and
George was having it carefully rolled around the steam-
launch, the purpose being to prevent splinters flying in
ease she was hit by a shot. In drills aboard a man-of-
war everything is done just as it would be in case of a real
action. Awning stanchions were taken down, and also
boat davits, where they could be spared, and stowed 'be-
low. The pumps were rigged ready to do what they
could toward keeping the water out of the ship if her side
were pierced. A thousand and one things had to be
done, it seemed, to remove every object that could possi-
bly interfere with the effective working of the guns, and
to secure everything that might get adrift in the course
of an engagement. The men, however, had been well
drilled, the petty officers knew their business, and the
cadets were intelligent and thoroughly trained. In a
few minutes over half an hour the Detroit had assumed
the appearance of a man who lias taken off bis coat and
rolled up his sleeves. Down in the fire-room there was
considerable work yet going on, for clearing ship for ac-
tion embraces getting up steam, and there had been no
fires in the Detroit's furnaces for some time, so that the
boilers were cold. When all 0*1 deck and between decks
was reported ready the commanding officer, accompanied
by the Executive and the Navigator, made a tour of in-
spection. Little indeed was there that could escape the
experienced eye of the veteran Brownson ; but both our
young friends won his silent approval of the thorough-
ness with which their work had been done. The Com-
mander's gaze was searching and businesslike, but he was
too old a lover of the sea not to note the picturesque fea-
tures of the scene. The dim light of the newly risen
moon fell in a slanting flood of yellow through the sparse
rigging, and made a thousand strange and mystic shadows
on the deck. It threw into sharp relief the sturdy forms
of the crew as they mustered at their stations in their
white working suits. It lit up the polished backs of the
guns with half-toned splashes of light, and twinkled soft-
ly along the fife-rails at the foot of the masts. Not a
sound was heard, except the footfalls of the inspecting
officers and the musical babble of the tide around the
ship's forefoot. The Captain and his aids passed below
to see that the magazines and engine-rooms and other in-
terior parts of the ship had been made ready according to
routine. A considerable time elapsed, and those on the
spar-deck knew that the inspection was being made most
thoroughly. When the officers returned they paused be-
fore the cabin door and conversed for a few moments in
low tones. Then the Executive Officer and the Navigator
saluted as the Captain passed into his cabin.
" Pipe down." said Mr. Crane.
168
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"WAS IT ONLY A DRILL?"
The shrill whistle of the hoatswaiii once more broke
the silence, its strident tones this time ordering the ship's
company to quit stations and go below. Once more the
decks echoed with the confused trampling of feet, and all
hands except the anchor- watch tumbled down the hatch-
ways. Once between decks the members of the crew com-
mented on the evening's exercises in their own character-
istic ways.
"Blow me fur pickles," said one old shell-back, "ef
that there ain't the fust time I ever seed clearin' ship
done in harbor in the fust watch jes fur fun."
" Er anny other way, either, ole blow-hard," said Peter.
" You never seed no ship cleared fur real action."
"Waal, leastways I'm pertikler glad," said the first
speaker, " that we didn't get no orders to secure."
"We'll have to do 't in the moriiin'- watch," said an-
other.
" W'ich the same I don't think," muttered Peter, under
his breath.
All conversation among the bluejackets was cut short
by the mellow notes of the bugle sounding the tattoo.
The silence of night settled down over the ship, and
Jacky, accustomed to taking things as they come, speed-
ily passed into the happy unconsciousness of a dream-
land which was one wide garden of tobacco plants wa-
tered with grog. On deck the men in the anchor-watch
continued to discuss the evening's work in low tones, and
the officer of the deck paced up and down in a thought-
ful mood. Our two young friends were about to turn
in, when a messenger entered the room and said that the
First Lieutenant would like to see Mr. King on deck.
The boy went at once, and Mr. Crane said to him,
"Mr. King, I want you to undertake a rather ticklish
job."
" Very good, sir," said Harold, quietly.
"You are to go in a boat unarmed and reconnoitre
the disposition of the rebel fleet. You are to make no
resistance if attacked, but
are to escape, of course,
if you can. What you
are to try most earnest-
ly to do is to. avoid de-
tection."
" Very good, sir."
" If you wish any as-
sistance you may have
it, but it must be a cadet.
Officers can't be spared
just now."
"I don't know that
I need any help, sir, but
I'd like to take Mr. Bris-
comb with me, and Peter
Morris for cockswain."
The request was grant-
ed, and in a few min-
utes the five-oared whale-
boat with muffled oars
was moving silently
away from the ship.
The night had become
cloudy, and was intense-
ly dark. Under Har-
old'sdirection the whale-
boat proceeded to a point
above the anchorage of
the insurgent war-ships.
The tide was ebbing,
and the boy had de-
cided to drift down
with it, pulling a stroke
only when absolutely
necessary. The plan
was successful. In deep silence the boat with its eight
occupants drifted down among the vessels, and Harold's
trained eye noted that every one of them was in readi-
ness for an early move. Yet their lookouts seemed
singularly inattentive, for the whale-boat was not dis-
covered. At last they were under the bow of the Tra-
jano, and George incautiously remarked,
"This beats the deck!"
Instantly a rough voice shouted something in Portu-
guese from the forecastle deck, and a rifle was discharged,
the bullet passing through the boat's rail.
"Give 'way !" commanded Harold, in a low sharp tone.
The tars bent to the oars, and their boat shot out into
the bay. But the Trajano's lightest pulling boat was in
the water, and as the whale-boat moved off Peter caught
sight of dark forms tumbling into her.
"They're after us, sir," he said.
"Pull heartily, lads," said Hal.
"Here they come right astarn," said Peter.
All hands were silent for a few minutes.
" Do they gain?" asked Hal.
"I don't think so, sir," said Peter. "It are so werry
dark I can hardly tell. But I reckon we ain't a-gainin'
either."
Snap! The bow -oar broke off just above the blade.
The other four men pulled all the harder.
" That's no good," said Hal. " Hard a-starboard. Peter."
" Hard a-starboard it is, sir," said the cockswain.
After a dozen strokes had been pulled Harold ordered,
"Oars!"
The men ceased rowing, and at the boy's order all
hands huddled at the bottom of the boat. The ruse was
successful. The cockswain of the Brazilian boat lost track
of them in the darkness, and continued to steer straight
ahead.
"They're a-passin'! they're a-passin'!" muttered Peter.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
"SOLOMON" OF LONELY PINES.
BY RICHARD BARRY.
UNCLE PETER stopped one morning at the Eilsons'
front gate. He carried a basket on his arm, and was
talking out loud. Uncle Peter always talked to himself
as if he were trying to convince some one else.
" Yas, sail," he said, "I knows dein chilluu '11 be jes
tickled mos' ter def.'' He closed the gate after him, and
then lifted the lid of the basket. " Yas, sah," he added,
" yo' heah me talkiii' ; jes tickled mos' ter def."
Some one hailed him from a window that opened out
on the veranda. "Hello, Uncle Peter!" shouted the
voice. '' What have you got there?"
" Howdy, young marster, howdy," replied the old man,
placing the basket on the ground, and putting his foot on
the lid. "Come out hyar, and I'll sho' yo' all sumplin."
In a moment three young figures darted out of the
open front door, and crowded about Uncle Peter, who
bowed to each one, and then pointed with his long black
finger, and asked, impressively, " Wha-whad yo' all s'pose
I's brung in dish yer basket;"
"A rabbit?" said Gracie.
"No, missy," replied the old man; ,"'tain't no rab-
bit."
A faint squeak came from under Uncle Peter's foot.
"It's alive, whatever it is," broke in Harry. "Let's
have a peep, Uncle Peter."
"I's got sumpfiii hyar," continued the old mail, "dat's
mentioned in de Bible."
" What is it?" chorussed the three voices.
For answer the old man bent over and lifted the lid.
There was the oddest, fluffiest little ball of yellow fur you
ever saw. It made a clumsy effort to climb out over the
edge of the deep basket, only to fall back and roll over
puppylike on its feet again. It was a tiny baby fox.
"Jerus'lem and Eli done dug him outen de bank
ovah yander dis mawnin'," said Uncle Peter, "an' seein'
yo' all took sech a pow'ful fancy fo' Brabus, I 'lowed
yo'd like ter 'dopt dis yer orfen — seeiu' lie 'ain't
got no home."
"What will we call him?" asked Gracie.
"I dunno," replied Uncle Peter. " Might call
him mos' anythiii', I reckon. I spect as Solomon
'd be a good name." And "Solomon" he was
named forthwith. Now "Brabus" was a 'coon
that had been adopted on a recommendation of
Uncle Peter almost a year previous to the pre-
sentation of "Solomon." His cognomen was a
suggestion of Uncle Peter also, and he was as in-
teresting a thief as any 'coon that ever sported an
inquisitive nose and a striped tail. At present
" Brabus " was confined by a long chain to an old
box back of the horse-shed.
For a few days Solomon's life hung in the bal-
ance, and if it had not been for the care that was
lavished upon him by his three little guardians this
story would never have been written. When once
Solomon obtained a foothold on existence, however,
his sharp little teeth began to be painfully appar-
ent in his kittenish play, and he developed as
strongly marked characteristics as Brother Brabus.
At first the two pets did not get on very well in
each other's society, and were confined by two
chains to the improvised kennels which had been
built for them back of the chicken-house. It was
a very funny sight to see them stretch their chains
and face one another at the distance of a few feet.
But Brabus had discovered something. If there
was anything he could not reach with his front
paws, he would turn around and extend his little
hind feet just like a monkey, and thus gain a longer
reach. To make them more friendly the children
had placed the platters from which they were fed quite close
together, and Brabus had found out that by executing a
sudden "about, face," and making one grab with his
back paw, lie could secure a good part of Solomon's din-
ner.
Mrs. Edson, in fact the whole family 'were very fond
of their chickens. Grandpa had sent them down what
he called a " clutch of eggs " from New England, which
had turned into great Hat-footed Cochin -Chinas, with
feathered legs, and an awkward sort of dignity. Some
other eggs had developed into a species of chicken quite
rare in the South — "top-knots" they are called, for their
feathers parted 011 the top of their heads like chrysanthe-
mums. About the time that the Cochin -Chinas were
trying to crow, and their voices were changing from an
uncertain treble to a melodious barytone, Solomon be-
gan to look guilty when the children visited him in the
morning. Brabus assumed an air of indifference, and had
stopped stealing Solomon's dinner. Their appetites seem-
ed to have fallen off, and yet each looked sleek and happy.
Strange to say, a few of the Cochin -Chinas had disap-
peared, and only three or four of the topknots were left
to air their individuality in the chicken-yard. Of course
it seems that any right-minded chicken would have sense
enough to keep away from a real live fox or, for that
matter, from a real live 'coon, and the idea of anything
being foolish enough to deliberately walk into the jaws
of death was contrary to the laws of nature, thought
Mr. Edsoii. Besides, they had never seen any traces of
forbidden feasts about the kennels. So they gave Brabus
and Solomon the benefit of the doubt. One day, how-
ever, Solomon looked more suspicious than ever, and two
or three little feathers were seen about the corners of his
mouth. Brabus pretended to be asleep, though in talk-
ing it over afterwards Harry insisted that he had winked
at Solomon when Gracie put down the scraps. The
•PLEASE DON'T COME IN. .. .SOLOMON'S IN HERE."
170'
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
chains by this time had been lengthened, and they both
fed amicably together. But they were growing fastidi-
ous; they turned up their noses at bits of bread; they
refused ginger-snaps, and even a soup-bone was left un-
touched.
It was about this time th.at the plotters were discover-
ed. Harry, coming about the corner of the chicken-yard,
was impressed by the queer actions of little " Bre'r 'Coon " ;
he lay on the ground at the full length of his chain,
huddled up in the dust, for all the world like an old hen.
Strutting near him were a number of unconscious chick-
ens, scattering dirt aimlessly about and clucking noisily,
as chickens will do to amuse themselves, and to fool all
other chickens into thinking they are having a good
time. Suddenly one young broiler strutted near the
quite dusty gray -brown figure; there was a sudden
start, a squeak, and the little rooster dodged ; Bar-bus
had missed him. But evidently the little rooster had
forgotten all about Solomon, for with a frightened little
squall he came inside the fatal circle; there was a spring,
a flutter of feathers, and Solomon had him. Barbus,
discomfited, lay down again, and only the tip of Solo-
mon's tail could be seen at the door of the kennel. But
what a sight there was when Harry looked inside into
the corner of the big packing boxes which served as
shelter for the two bandits! Bones, chicken feathers,
legs — ali the evidences of previous feasts were there.
But whv not on the outside? That's the question that is
still unanswered. Brabus may have put Solomon up to
the trick, or Solomon have taught it to the little striped
tail; but which of the two was the instigator has never
been found out. Perhaps it was because there were oth-
er bones lying around and plenty of feathers that the
crimes had not attracted attention before ; but, never-
theless, almost all of the Cochin -Chinas and topknots
were accounted for in the hidden evidences of the pre-
vious orgies. So the two villains were walled off from
temptation by a fence of iron netting.
Now Solomon had grown up; he was no longer a pet,
and if it had not been for the children's interceding he
would probably have made a nice floor rug for the little
room where Mrs. Edson kept the parlor melodeon. It
may have been that Solomon detected this half-formed
resolution in the eye of the Rev. Edson one day when he
had strolled back into the chicken-yard; but, at any rate,
the next morning he was gone. He had snapped the
chain off close to the collar, taken one more Cochin-
China along, and had departed.
Brabus was disconsolate; but he made believe that he
had known nothing about the affair, and affected sur-
prise at Solomon's absence. To tell the truth, even the
little Edsons were relieved to find that they had no longer
to make excuses for the latter's short-comings and for
Brabus's over-reachings, for three or four days after that
Brabus died— of a "broken heart," Gracie had insisted,
but really from the effects of getting his collar caught
in the twisted chain, and mistaking his right paw for
his left when he tried to unwind himself. Of course
suicide may be hinted at in this case, but Brabus I do
think had no intention of cutting short a rather easy
existence.
Two or three months had gone by. The Virginia
scenery was growing very desolate; the leaves had fall-
en from the oak-trees or rattled stiffly on the half-bare
branches ; a slight fall of snow had melted under the
hot sun, the roads were muddy, and winter had set in.
It was not the winter of the North, but a Virginia win-
ter. It was not too cold, and the colored people were
still cheerful and happy. The year had been a good
one for the cotton crop, game had been plentiful, and
it is always best to be contented. But, as I have said
before, there was a great deal of sameness at Lonely
Pines, and the children found this to bear rather heavily
on them. Christmas, of course, had helped to break the
monotony; there were new dolls, new books, and a small
rifle for Henry; and New-Year's day had come along in
the course of events, as New -Year's day does always
come, with a shock of surprise and a strange-looking
date. But this New- Year's day the little Edsons will
never forget. The sameness was broken, and they went
through a real adventure.
Late in the afternoon on the 1st of January, the bay-
ing of hounds was heard stealing up on the crisp clear
air; nearer it came, and nearer, now and then faint, now
and then louder, but always nearer.
"It's de Holly boys," said old Uncle Peter, who had
stopped to chat with the little Edsons; " and dey're head-
ing up de creek shure 'nuff ; dey'll cross the medder over
yander jes whar dose old stumps are; you hear me talk?"'
He hobbled down the road, and the children climbed
upon the fence and listened. It was very plain now; they
could almost hear the individual voices of the hounds,
when suddenly, out from the old field, just where the
two stumps showed black above the cotton stalks, ap-
peared a reddish-gray shape that slunk along close to the
fence, then darted out across the field. It was a fox.
His tail was sweeping the ground, and even from where
the children sat they could see his long red tongue dan-
gling from the corner of his mouth; he was very tired-
poor Mr. Reynard— and the hounds were close upon him.
He cast a glance over his shoulder, turned short about,
skirted along a thicket of brambles, and came directly
toward the yard. Just then the first hound jumped into
sight, and after him another, and then another, until the
whole pack crossed the field; beyond them could be seen
the bobbing heads of a few horses and the lifting shoul-
ders of the riders as they cleared the fences. But what
was this! the poor hunted creature was headed directly
toward them, and Harry had jumped from his position.
" Gracie!" he shouted, " it's Solomon ! it's Solomon !"
Sure enough; around the fox's neck was a worn leather
collar with brass nail-heads encircling it, and a little bit
of dangling chain.
"Solomon!" he shouted, and the fox kept straight
ahead.
He jumped the fence into the yard, within a few feet
of the children, and they trotted alongside of him as he
turned behind the house; he was too tired to show any
recognition. He was heading for his kennel; but when
he got there— not like old Mother Hubbard's dog, "the
cupboard was bare" — the kennel was gone! Despair
showed in every line of poor Solomon's face. The
dogs were almost in the yard, when, with a sudden im-
pulse, Harry clutched the tired fox by the collar, and
with the two little girls, dragged him inside the door of
the chicken-house, not a moment too soon, for the fore-
most hound rounded the corner of the shed and almost
squeezed through the crack. Harry threw his weight
upon the door and succeeded in closing it. Lola began
to cry, and Gracie appeared frightened; the chickens
flew all around their heads; they squalled and shrieked
and lost all presence of mind, as chickens will, and out-
side the dogs bayed and howled as if they had treed their
game at last, and were balked and felt mad about it.
Solomon lay upon the ground, panting so hard that he
rocked back and forth very much the way a very am-
bitious little fire-engine does when called upon to do its
best. Pretty soon voices and a few sharp yelps were
heard outside, and a man with a whip came up and tried
the door.
"Hello!" he said.
" Please don't come in," said three pleading voices.
" Solomon's in here."
A laugh was the answer, and the other voices joined.
After some explanation the dogs were withdrawn, and
Solomon, looking very crest-fallen and tired, was released
JANUARY 1, 1S9S
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
171
and told to go. This he refused to do for some time.
Finally he did leave, however, but it must be confessed
that he did so quite reluctantly, and after having a rest
of three or four hours, he trotted off, glancing now and
then over his shoulder as if he expected a word to bring
him back.
Three weeks had passed and he made his party call.
He did not leave any word for the family, but a flue
black topknot went off with him. Of course the Ed-
sons could never be sure of this, and the only reason for
supposing1 that he took the topknot was that the next
week Jerusalem, Uncle Peter's boy, shot a fox who was
making off with a Cochin-China, and if a Cochin-China,
why not a topknot? The fox had a collar around his
neck. Poor Solomon was not wise in his generation.
THE STRANGE
ADVENTURES OF TOMMY
TODDLES.
BY ALBERT LBB.
CHAPTER III.
TOMMY TODDLES and his companion, the Sheep, had ad-
vanced but a short distance into the woods wben the little
boy thought he heard some one laughing very loud and heartily,
apparently at no great distance from them. He paused a mo-
ment to listen, and when tbe sounds of laughter were repeated
be touched the Sheep on tbe shoulder and they both stopped.
" Did you bear that t" said Tommy.
" Yes."
"Some one is laughing; let's go and ask about the animals."
"Don't ask him," exclaimed tbe Sheep in atone of deep scorn ;
" he wouldn't know."
" Why, who is it?" asked tbe little boy.
"That's the Loon. He's crazy," and the Sheep started on
down the road again.
"But he might have seen tbe animals even if be is crazy,"
persisted Tommy. " Let us go and ask him, anyway."
The Sheep asserted that this would be an utterly useless pro-
ceeding and an absolute waste of time; but Tommy finally per-
suaded him to make tbe attempt at least, and so they turned off
from tbe main road and plunged into a thicket out of which tbe
sounds of laughter appeared to come. As they broke their way
through the bushes tbe noise of the Loou's laughter grew plainer
and plainer. Presently the thick growth of underbrush opened
up into a sort of clearing surrounded by tall trees, and reaching
down on the further side to the edge of a lake. Near the shore
stood the Loon, and when Tommy first caught sight of him he
thought he was the most solemn-looking bird he had ever seen.
He was standing beside a tree truuk which looked very much
like a butcher's block, and every few minutes he placed some
imaginary or invisible object on tbe top of the trunk, and then
struck it vigorously with a large hammer which he held. After
every blow tbe Loon lifted up bis head aud laughed as if there
bad never been anything so funny.
" You see, he's crazy," said the Sheep, deprecatiugly.
"What is he doing?" asked Tommy.
" I'm sure I don't know ; he's just crazy."
"Well, you ask him if be has seen tbe animals," for by this
time the two had approached quite close to tbe Loon, who, bow-
ever, seemed to be quite unconscious of their presence.
" Ba-ali !" said the Sheep.
"Quack!" said tbe Loou.
" How d'ye do?" said Tommy.
And then the Loon brought bis hammer down bard ou tbe
block aud laughed as though his sides would split.
" Have yon seen the animals?" asked the Sheep.
" No," answered the Loon, briefly, and then he pounded tbe
block again.
After the laughter had subsided, Tommy spoke. " Have not
you seen my animals go by here, Mr. Loou V
"Not an animal," responded the bird. "I have been too
busy."
" What are you doing ?" asked Tommy.
"Can't you see what I'm doing?" snapped tbe Loon; ''I'm
cracking jokes," and he brought the hammer down once more
with a vigorous blow.
"Cracking jokes?" repeated Tommy, in a tone of surprise.
" Yes — cracking jokes."
" But where are the jokes ?"
"The jokes are on the block," replied the Loon.
"I don't see any jokes," and Tommy looked closely at the
beaten top of tbe tree trunk.
" I did not suppose you could," retorted tbe Loon. " You are
as stupid ns all the rest. No one ever sees my jokes." Where-
upon he rapped tbe block again and fairly shrieked with merri-
ment.
" He is crazy," said Tommy, turning to tbe Sheep.
"I told you so," answered tbe latter, triumphantly. "Let us
leave him alone with his jokes, and go up to the head of tbe
lake. They'll know up there."
They did not even say good-by to the Loon as they made
their way out of tbe clearing, for the bird was not paying any
attention to them. They turned into a narrow path that led
off in tbe direction of the lake, and then followed along the
shore. It was a very pretty lake, with trees growing down
close to the water, and Tommy wondered that lie and his Uncle
Dick had never discoverd it before. As they trudged along,
jumping over fallen logs now and then, they could hear the
Loon's laughs growing fainter and fainter in the distamT
Presently they came to a low poiut of land that jutted out
into tbe water, and when they had walked out to the end of it
Tommy noticed a queer-looking building standing in an open
space about a quarter of a mile away at tbe head of the lake.
It was a two-storied house with a shingled roof, and any quan-
tity of windows in the sides. The most peculiar thing, bow-
ever, was that the side of the bouse fronting the hike was
painted white, and one end of the building was painted blue,
and the other end was painted red. The little boy, of course,
could not see the fourth side, aud he wondered what color that
was. He looked at tbe strange building as they advanced, and
in a few moments said to the Sheep,
" What is that house f
"Tbe Poor House," answered the Sheep.
" I never knew of a Poor House around here," said Tommy, as
he gazed at the queer structure. " Is there any one in it ?"
"Only two poor people," answered bis companion, " but they
are both rerij poor "
"Who are they?"
"One is an ex-Pirate, and the other is a Reformed Burglar."
"A Pirate and a Burglar!" exclaimed Tommy. "I did not
know there were any more pirates."
"There aren't," replied the Sheep, testily. "I said an ex-
Pirate. He was driven out of the business."
Tommy was a little abashed by the Sheep's tone, but after a
brief pause he resumed,
" Is be a real Pirate ?"
"He was," answered tbe Sheep.
"Aud what does he do now?" continued the little boy.
" He is very poor now."
"I thought all pirates got rich," persisted Tommy.
"They did. Some got rich aud some got killed. This Pirate
got rich."
" But you just said he was poor," objected the little boy.
"He is now," answered the Sheep. "You see, wben things
got into such a state that tbe pirate business was no longer
profitable, this one sold his ship and all bis hidden gold and
retired. Then he started in to write poetry, and now he's in
the Poor House."
Tommy could not quite follow this explanation, but he
thought it must be all right, and as they walked along he tried,
although without any very gratifying success, to think it out.
After a while be said,
" Does tbe ex-Pirate still write poetry ?"
"Yes," answered tbe Sheep, " but he's so poor now that it does
not make any difference."
"And the Burglar ?" asked Tommy.
" Oh, he's very good now ; he has reformed entirely."
" Does not he steal any more ?"
" No. And, besides, there is nothing to steal at the Poor
House."
" What does be do then ?"
"He does not do anything but paint the Poor House. Since
his reform he has become a good man and a patriotic citizen,
raid jin lie paints the bouse red, white, and bine. He paiuts one
side every day, so that every fourth day tbe sides have a differ-
ent color."
"He must use an awful lot of paint," thought Tommy,
by this time tbe two bad gotten almost up to the house, aud tbe
172
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"HE IH CKAZY," .SAID TOMMY.
little boy could set' the Refurinoil Burglar in a pair of overalls,
with a pot of red paiut iu bis baud, paiuting one eud of the
house.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE LITTLE RED BOOK.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND.
CHAPTER V.
T)ERTHA'S news spread like wildfire among the girls,
_L) making them quite forget the wig episode, and at
school the next day almost every one knew it but Eleanor
herself. Madge was approached upon the subject, and
asked if it were true. She could not deny the story, and
of course, in consequence, the report gained ground, and
soon became an accepted fact, but as yet Eleanor had no
suspicion of what was being said.
The 18th of April was Madge's birthday, and she was
to celebrate it as usual by giving a party. No sooner,
therefore, were the theatricals a thing of the past than the
party came to the front as a matter of interest and excite-
ment.
The invitations were most mysteriously worded:
"Miss Margaret Barnes requests the pleasure of your
company at an Arbutus Party, Saturday, April the eigh-
teenth, at three o'clock.
" ' Ride and Tie.' Walking dress.
"R. S. V. P."
What could it be! Always before this Madge had
given an ordinary party, at which they all danced on the
lawn, ate ice-cream, and enjoyed themselves in a com-
monplace though delightful manner. Of course this
must mean that they were to go in search of the trailino-
arbutus that grew in pro-
fusion about five miles
from Durham. But
"Ride and Tie!" What
did those mystic words
signify?
The invitations came
out a day or two after
the theatricals, and for
the moment speculation
ceased about Mrs. Rogers
and Eleanor, and that
about the party took its
place. But all the ques-
tions in the world could
not drag from Madge any
clew to the meaning of
"Ride and Tie, "and Elea-
nor, who was in the
secret, was equally obdu-
rate.
At last the wished-for
Saturday arrived, and for-
tunately it dawned bright
and clear. The spring
sun was warm, but there
was a delicious breeze and
a freshness in the air that
made it a joy to be out of
doors.
Saturday morning was
Eleanor's favorite time
of the whole week, for
her mother was at home
then, and they could
enjoy the rare pleasure of being together. They were
sitting in the little library, the windows of which
commanded the view across the valley, for the house
was 011 a hill, as most of the Durham houses were. Mrs.
Rogers was sewing, and Eleanor was on a low stool at
her feet, idly looking out of the window as she leaned
against her mother's knee.
"All the girls are furious with Bertha for pulling off
my wig, mamma," she said, presently. " I wonder what
makes her act so to me ? We used to be good enough
friends."
"I am afraid it is jealousy, Eleanor. Bertha needs a
friend very much, and she probably thinks that you mo-
nopolize Madge."
" But Madge and I have always been friends."
" I know, dear, but I think you could be kinder to
Bertha if you were to try. She knows that you and
Madge take her up and drop her just as it happens to
please you, and she resents it, I suppose, and as she wants
to be intimate with Madge especially, she visits her dis-
pleasure 011 you. I think you should remember that Ber-
tha has had a sad life, poor child! It is very hard for a
girl to be left without a mother."
"I know that, dear, darling mamma," said Eleanor,
hugging her mother as she spoke. "We ought to be
kinder to Bertha for that reason, if nothing else. What
should I do if I had no mother! Why, mamma, it makes
me ache all over just to think of it. But Bertha seems
to have something on her mind about me, she looks at
me so strangely, and several times she and some of the
others have been talking together and stopped as soon as
I joined them, just as if il were about me. And yet I
know they were all very mad about the wig, for they all
told me so."
"Probably you imagined that they were talking about
you. I thought so myself the other day when I went
into the literature class a few minutes earlier than usual.
They had all been talking very fast, and suddenly stopped
JANUARY 1, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
173
short, but I suppose it was merely because they were sur-
prised to see me so early."
"I wonder where that boy is going ?" said Eleanor,
presently. " I have beeu watching him all along Deane
Street, and now he has turned the corner and is coming
up tliis way."
" You have a great deal of village curiosity, my dear
child," said her mother, laughing. "Fancy wanting to
know the object of every boy who chances to stray past
the house!"
" But I have a feeling about that boy," persisted Elea-
nor. "From the moment I caught sight of him I grew
interested in him, and, yes, mamma, he is turning in here,
and he lias a book and a letter in his hand. It is a tele-
gram, mamma!"
Mrs. Rogers started from her chair. " A telegram! I
trust it is not bad news. Run, Eleanor, and get it!"
With trembling fingers she tore open the envelope.
"Your Grandmother Rogers is very ill, "she said, "and
they have sent for me to come. I must go at once, Elea-
nor. Come, help me to get ready."
"Shall I give up the party?" asked Eleanor, as she
flew about, packing her mother's bag, and getting out
her bonnet.
"No, it does not seem necessary for you to do that. I
should be sorry to deprive you of it. You will be lonely
enough, dear, I am afraid. You might spend to-night at
Mrs. "Barnes's, if she would like to have you, and ask
Madge to come here to-morrow night. Old Catherine
will take care of you, and I know I can trust you. I
hope to get back Monday. But you must send word to
my classes, Eleanor, that I am called away, and cannot
tell when I shall return. What o'clock is it now* Eleven,
and I shall just have time to make the eleven-fifteen to
town, and get the twelve-o'clock train to Baltimore. I
think there is one then. Good-by, darling! Take good
care of yourself."
"Oh, mamma, how I hate to have you leave me!"
cried Eleanor, as she threw her arms about her mother.
" It seems as if the world were coming to an end when
you go away from me."
And then Mrs. Rogers hurried off, and Eleanor was left
to make the best of the matter. First she wrote the notes
to the various classes, cancelling her mother's engage-
ments. Although so young, Eleanor knew all about
Mrs. Rogers's business affairs, for the two had grown to
depend very much upon each other, and she was quite
equal now to the emergency, and knew just what to do.
Then she went to see Madge, to tell her of her mother's
unexpected departure, and to ask if she might spend the
night there after the party. To this Mrs. Barnes and
Madge agreed with pleasure, and then Eleanor, declining
their invitation to luncheon, went home again to prepare
for the afternoon.
It seemed very strange without her mother, for al-
though she was away so much, to-day it had a very dif-
ferent feeling. Eleanor supposed it was because it was
Saturday, and on that day she and her mother were al-
ways together.
Whatever the reason, she felt very lonely. She was
sorry, too, about her grandmother. She wondered if she
were 'going to die. And oh, how she did hope that no-
thing would prevent her mother from returning on Mon-
day !
At three o'clock fifteen boys and girls had assembled
on Mrs. Barnes's broad piazza. Presently Madge pro-
duced a little covered basket, from which floated narrow
ribbons of various colors, each with a little silver pin
stuck through it.
"Choose your favorite color," she said to them all,
"and learn your fate."
This was most exciting, and when the ribbons were
chosen and drawn forth a card was found attached to the
other end, with a sprig of arbutus daintily painted upon
one corner, and a little pen-and-ink sketch in the centre.
Upon examination the drawings upon the various
cards were found to consist of only two varieties. They
represented either a funny old-fashioned chaise, with two
people driving in it, in quaint hat and sunbonnet, or the
same two people were depicted as walking, leaving the
horse and chaise tied to a tree.
Of course there was a vast amount of curiosity as to
what these pictures signified, and Ruth Barnes explained
the matter.
"In old times," she said, "it was the custom, when
several people had a long road to travel, and only one
horse to ride or one buggy to drive in, for one to start off
first on the horse, ride a certain distance, and then tie
him and walk on. The other person would walk until
he came to the nag, mount him and ride, pass his friend,
and then in turn leave the horse tied for the friend to
take. It was called 'ride and tie.' So this afternoon we
are going to do very much the same thing. We thought
a ten-mile walk would be almost too much to attempt, so
we are going in a three seated carriage. Those who chose
cards that have the people in the buggy drawn upon
them will be the first to drive, while those with the peo-
ple walking will have to go on foot until they come up
with the carriage."
•IT ISN'T TRUE. THERE'S NOT A WORD OF TRUTH IN IT.1
174
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVL
Every one thought this the most perfect and the most
novel idea that had ever been heard of. At this moment
a large three-seated vehicle from the livery stable, drawn
by Mrs. Barnes's handsome horses, came up to the door,
and Uien there was a general rush to see who were to be
the first to drive.
It was found that Eleanor, Bertha, May Brewster, and
Grace Adams were the girls, while four of the boys filled
the remaining seats. Ruth and Madge Barnes were both
of the walking party.
After strict injunctions to Thomas, the coachman, that
he was not to drive beyond a certain distance, the car-
riage started, the walking party cheering them as they
drove off, and presently they themselves set out, each
with the pretty card pinned to the shoulder by the little
silver pin.
Madge was sorry that Eleanor and Bertha were of the
same party. But nothing could be done about it, and she
was obliged to content herself with squeezing Eleanor's
hand and whispering, "Don't mind anything Bertha
says!"
Bertha could not hear the words, but she saw the action,
and in consequence all her ire against Eleanor was again
stirred, while Eleanor, remembering her mother's words,
determined to be as nice as possible to Bertha.
It did not take long to drive the mile and a half that
had been fixed as the limit, and then they all jumped
out, leaving Thomas and the horses drawn up in the
shade at one side of the road to wait for the others, while
they walked on towards "Hanging Rock," the name of
the hill where the finest arbutus of the country was to
be found.
It did not add to Bertha's pleasure to find that on the
road the boys openly showed their preference for Elea-
nor's society by walking entirely with her and May
Brewster, leaving Bertha and Grace Adams, a quiet girl
of fifteen, quite to themselves. Eleanor tried to have it
otherwise, but was unsuccessful. Two of the boys would
fall back and join Bertha and Grace, only to leave them
again, and hurry forward to hear the latest joke at every
burst of laughter from the group in front.
Presently Ned Brewster, witli the air of one who was
trying to do his duty, came back and walked with Bertha
and Grace.
"Why don't you two girls walk a little faster?" he
said. "Then we might all keep together."
"Oh, don't worry about us!" replied Bertha. "We
don't mind walking alone. Do we, Grace? Go back to
the popular orphan."
"What under the sun do you mean?" asked Ned.
" Haven't you heard the news? Don't you know about
Eleanor Rogers? — or rather she isn't Eleanor Rogers at
all."
"I'd like to know what you're talking about!" said
Ned. somewhat roughly. " I hate mysteries."
"Not much mystery about this now, because it's all
been found out."
"But you don't know whether it's really true, do you,
Bertha?" put in Grace, shyly.
"I do know it!" returned Bertha, angrily. "Do you
suppose I would say it if it were not really true? You
must think I am a nice kind of a person?"
"But what is it?" persisted Ned.
" Only that Eleanor is not really Mrs. Rogers's daughter
at all. She is adopted, and she came from an orphan
asylum."
"Pshaw! I don't believe a word of it."
" That does not alter the facts," replied Bertha, grandly.
"And even if it is true, what's the harm? Just as
good things come out of orphan asylums as anywhere
else. In fact, in this case they are l>ct,ter."
"That is a matter of taste. "said Bertha. "But the
worst of it is the hypocrisy of ii. Think of Mrs. Rogers
and Eleanor pretending things that are not really
true!"
" Where did yon hear it?" asked Ned, after a pause.
"Nevermind! But from very good authority. You
would think the very best," said Bertha, meaningly.
"What do you mean by that?"
" Well, I fancy your mother knows more about it than
she chooses to tell."
"Probably she does, if it is true, for she and Mrs.
Rogers are such old friends, but mother is away, and I
can't ask her. She has never said a word about it, and
I don't believe it's meant to be talked about. I'd like to
know where you got the information from. Not from
her, I bet! And I'll tell you another thing, Bertha. It's
a pretty mean trick for you to be spreading it round if
Mrs. Rogers and Eleanor want it kept a secret."
"Eleanor! Why, she doesn't know anything about
it."
"She doesn't! Then you're worse even than I
thought."
Bertha stopped in the road and made a courtesy.
"Thanks for the compliment, Mr. Brewster!"
"What are you doing, Bertha?" cried Eleanor, mer-
rily, looking around just at this moment. "Here is the
carriage waiting for us, and it is our turn to drive
again."
They all got in, and the conversation became general,
but Ned Brewster was very thoughtful, and he made up
his mind that he would not again sacrifice his own in-
clinations by walking with Bertha Weld.
So it went on, turn and turn about, until the whole
party had reached the foot of Hanging Rock, where they
were to join forces. Then the search for arbutus began,
and great was the joy of the first to find the delicate
little flower hidden away under the broad tough leaves.
It was very luxuriant this spring, but with so many
searchers it did not take long to gather all that there
was, and then the party sat and rested while a large basket
was lifted from beneath the seat of the carriage, and a
tempting array of sandwiches and fruit was disclosed to
view.
After this the cards were collected again, and each
person made a new choice, that the party might be di-
vided differently on the way home. This time Bertha
and Eleanor were not together, and neither was especi-
ally sorry.
On their return to the house a delicious supper was
found awaiting the hungry boys and girls, and after-
wards they played games, danced, and had, as May Brew-
ster expressed it, "the most perfect of all the perfect
times they had ever had at Madge's perfect party."
It was almost time to go home. Eleanor had been
asked by Mrs. Barnes to close a certain window in a little
room that opened from the library. She stood a moment
behind the curtain — it was a small bay-window, and the
drapery made a recess wilhin-r-lookiiig across the valley
as it lay bathed in the moonlight.
"How lovely it is," she thought; "and what a good
time I have had! If only mamma were at home that I
might tell her all about it! It seems so long to wait until
Monday."
She was just turning away to go back into the room,
when she heard her own name mentioned by some one
on the other side of the curtain. It was Ned Brewster's
voice.
"Are you sure Eleanor doesn't know anything about
it?"
" No, she doesn't. I think she ought to be told what a
deceiver her mother is, or, rather, Mrs. Rogers, for she's
not her mother."
It was Bertha who replied: "Well, I advise you not
to be the one to tell her. It would kill her to know it. I
don't believe it, anyhow. If mother were only at home
JANUARY 1, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
175
I'd ask her about it. For my part I don't believe there is
a word of truth in it."
For a moment Eleanor stood still. She felt as if she
had turned into stone and could not move. Then, with-
out a word, she stepped out and confronted them.
Bertha gave a little scream. Eleanor looked from one
to the other. Ned whistled softly and walked away.
"What are you saying about my mother and me?"
asked Eleanor.
Her voice sounded strange, quite as if it were sonle one
else's.
•' Oh, nothing!" said Bertha.
She was frightened for the moment.
''Yes, you were. Tell me!"
"What were you doing there — listening?" asked Ber-
tha, pertly, recovering her self-possession. "Listeners
never hear any good of themselves."
"I was not listening. Mrs. Barnes sent me there.
Tell me what you said."
"You heard well enough for yourself."
"Did you really say that mamma was not my mo-
ther?"
"Yes, I did."
"Then who am I?"
"You — you came out of an orphan asylum."
"Who told you so?"
"Somebody who knows all about it."
"Who?"
"I sha'n't tell you."
" You've got to tell me."
"I'd like to know why I've got to do anything you
say."
"You don't tell me because you don't know. It isn't
true. There's not a word of truth in it."
"Very well. You needn't believe it if you don't wish
to, but I tell you it is true, for it came from Mrs. Brew-
ster. So there, now !" And Bertha, feeling that she had
had enough of this interview, ran out of the room.
Eleanor sank into a chair. Mrs. Brewster! If any
one would know of such a thing it was Mrs. Brewster,
her mother's dearest friend.
And her mother was away. Her mother ? Bertha
said she was not her mother, and Bertha knew it from
Mrs. Brewster. Perhaps it was true. Yes, if Mrs. Brew-
ster said so it must be true.
How long she sat there she did not know, whether five
minutes or five hours. After a while Ruth came to look
for her.
" Oh, here you are at last! We have been searching
everywhere for you. Nell. Why, what is the matter,
child?"
Eleanor looked at her, and did not answer.
"I am afraid you have walked too far."
" Yes, I have walked too far," replied Eleanor, mechan-
ically. She was not conscious of speaking.
" You must go to bed at once," exclaimed Ruth, assist-
ing her to rise, and half leading, half carrying her from
the room. " Mamma, Eleanor is quite exhausted. She
doesn't seem at all well."
Mrs. Barnes was distressed. "She had better not sleep
with Madge to-night. She will be quieter in the little
room next to yours, Ruth."
And so Eleanor was put to bed in a little room by her-
self, and at intervals during the night Ruth stole in to see
how she was getting on. She thought the child was
sleeping peacefully, but it was not until towards morn-
ing that Eleanor really fell asleep.
All night long the terrible words were repeating them-
selves in her ear, and if she dozed off. a frightful dream
awoke her. All night long she heard Bertha's voice say-
ing, "Mrs. Rogers is not your mother. You came from
an orphan asylum. Mrs. Brewster knows."
[TO BK CONTINUED.]
THK LEYDEN-JAR.
rilHE Leyden-jar is a necessary adjunct to any kind of elec-
JL trical machine, for by it alone can the, electricity generated
liy the machine lie .stored for the numerous experiments and for
imparting shocks. A small jar may be made from an ordinary
thin glass tumbler of the
largest size; but if a larger
jar is desired, a glass bottle
or jar with a neck suffi-
ciently wide to admit the
hand must be used. Such
jars are easily procured.
Take the tumbler or jar and
paste tin-foil inside it, cover-
ing the bottom and extend-
ing about three-quarters up
its height; when this haft
been done paste tin-foil on
the outside, covering the
same surface as has been
covered on the inside.
When the paste has become.
perfectly dry trim the upper
edges of the tin-foil with a
knife, scraping away all the
irregularities, and clean the
uncovered glass thoroughly.
Now make a lid for the
tumbler or jar, so as to lit it.
This is best made by being turned out of a piece of three-
quarter-inch thick hard-wood ; but it can be cut with a knife out
of two quarter-inch pieces, one a little larger than the outside of
the tumbler or neck of the jar, and the other made to fit inside
the tumbler or neck. When these pieces are glued together
they will form a sufficient lid. Bore a hole through the ceutie
of the lid to receive a stout brass wire, about six inches long,
having a brass or lead ball at its upper end, and a short piece
of brass chain tied with wire to its lower end. When the lid is
put in its place the chain must touch the tin-foil at the bottom.
To use the jar, place it so that its ball is close to the ball of
the collector or conductor of the electrical machine, and turn
the handle. Sparks will be seen to pass from one ball to an-
other until the Leyden-jar will refuse to receive more. At this
stage it is charged with electricity. Now if a person touches
the outside coating of tin-toil with oue hand and the ball with
the other, he will receive an electric shock. If a string of ten
or twenty boys is formed, by joining hands, and the left-hand
boy touches the tin-foil of the jar, while the right-hand boy
places his linger on the ball, the entire string of boys experi-
ences a shock in the arms. Such a harmless experiment causes
great fun hi a gathering of young people.
A HAPPY NEW YEAR.
JUST at the turn of the midnight,
When the children are fast asleep,
The tired Old Year slips out by himself,
Glad of a chance to be laid on the shelf,
And the New Year takes a peep
At the beautiful world that is waiting
For the hours that he will bring:
For the wonderful things iu his peddler's pack;
Weather, all sorts, there will be no lack,
And many a marvellous thing
Flowers, by hosts and armies.
Stars and sunshine and rain!
The merry times and the sorrowful times,
Quickstep and jingle, and dirge and chimes,
And the weaving of joy and pain.
When the children wake in the morning,
Shouting their "Happy New Year,"
The year will be started well on bis way,
Swinging along through his lirst white day,
With the path before him clear.
Twelve long months for his journey ;
Fifty-two weeks of a spell;
At the end of it all he'll slip out by himself,
Glad of a chance to be laid on the shelf,
At the stroke of the midnight bell.
MAUGAKKT K. SANGSTKH.
UNTIDY JANE
"Come Jane'1 said grandmamma one day,
" "Tis time you learned to sew ;
At your age I could make a frock ,
And you should also know'.'
So now she only tossed her head
And ran with eag-er feet.
And soon was racing up and down ,
And playing in the street .
When she was shown upstairs to lay
Her hat upon the bed
She saw a little basket there
With needles, wax and thread .
But Jane cared little for such things ;
She liked to make a noise ;
She used to run about all day ,
And shout, and play with boys .
Once Jane was to a party asked;
Her friends would all be there ;
She wore her best sprigged muslin frock ,
And ribbons tied her hair .
"I wonder" said untidy Jane,
"If Mat tie likes to sew ;
I'm glad that I have never learned;
I should not care to know '.'
With that she laughed and ran downstairs,
But on the way - ah see!
She's caught her skirt upon a nail
And torn it terribly .
So with her frock all torn, into
The room she had to go ,
And all the children wondering stared
To see her looking so ;
When nurse at last was sent for her
How glad was little Jane ;
She almost thought she never wished
To romp or play again .
If Jane had learned from grandmamma
She might have mended it,
But she had been a thoughtless child
And could not sew a bit .
Then when Jane played it caught her feet
And almost made her fall ;
That shamed her so she ran away
And tried to hide from all .
" Oh ! grandmamma , dear grandmamma ,
Indeed, indeedTsaid she,
"If now you'll teach me how to sew
A thankful child I'll be'.'
KATHARINE PYLE.
HUNTING REEDBIRDS.
WHEN Jimmieboy first tasted the reedbirds his father had
had sent home, he was very much pleased with their taste, but
he thought they were awfully small.
"Do they hunt these birds with a gnu, papa?" he asked.
" Yes," his father replied. " Why ?"
" Seems to me they'd ought to hunt 'em with a microscope."
MOLLIE'S REASON.
I LIKE to talk to dolls aud thiugs,
To chairs and sofas too,
Because they listen all the time,
And do not answer vou.
" G-RK-RUR-R-KOW !" growled little Jack.
"What does that mean ?" queried Uuele George.
"I'm a polar bear. Whrr-grrr-ugh !" returned little Jack.
"DeariDc!" cried Uncle George. "How singular. I'll have
to write to the papers about this. I never in my life before saw
a polar bear in short trousers. It is most iuterestiug."
A SUGGESTION.
'• I WISHT you'd buy some glass covers and put 'em over my
bed," said Keimiboy to his father. "It was awful cold last
night, and Johu says you can make a hotbed with glass covers.''
A POSSIBLE REASON.
" I KNOW why flowers grow," said Wilbur,
get up out of the dirt.''
"They want to
A DISCOVERY.
I DON'T think rolling off a log
Is easy as 'tis said.
I tried it yesterday, and got
A big bump on uiy head.
AN ACKNOWLEDGMENT.
" MY papa knows more 'n your papa," said Jack.
" I know he does," said Tom. " My papa says your papa knows
it all."
v
HARPE
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1895, by HARPKK & BR
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 793.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JANUARY 8, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YBAK.
A USELESS ADVENTURE.
BY A. J. ENSIGN.
" TTAVE you put in the compass, sextant, and chro-
JT1 nonieter?" asked Harvey Drake.
"Of course I have," answered Philip Boyle. " But I
say, Harvey, our chronometer is just a Waterbury \vatch ;
is that right '."
"Certainly it is. I looked for the word 'chronometer'
in my dictionary, and it said 'a clock or watch.' We
haven't room for a clock, so a watch is all right."
"And say, Harvey, what's the sextant for? I'm glad
I knew where to look for it, but it takes up a good deal
of room."
"But we can't get along without it." said Harvey, em-
phatically. "We navigate the boat wilh that; it tells
us our latitude."
"Do you know how to work it?" asked Philip, taking-
it out of the caM1. ami eying it curiouslj-.
178
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUMK XVI.
" Of course I do," said Harvey. " Father showed me
one day. All you have to do is to look at the sea
through the telescope, and push this bar till you see the
sun reflected in the sea, and tlieu you look on this scale
alongside of the bar and it tells you the latitude."
"Why, Harvey!" exclaimed Phil, "you know enough
to command an ocean steamer. And who knows? Per-
haps our expedition will be so successful that some one
will come forward and offer you the command of a
ship, and the papers will be full of the wonderful story
of Harvey Drake, the Boy Captain. There's never been
any story like the one that will be written about our
voyage."
"That's so," said Harvey, "because no boys have ever
attempted to cross the Atlantic in a twenty -five -foot
boat. It's been done by men, but never by boys."
"In a twenty-five-foot boat?"
"Yes, and in a smaller one than that," said Harvey,
looking very wise. " One man crossed in a sixteen-foot
dory, called the Dark Secret."
" What a funny name!"
"Wasn't it? And my father says it was done just to
advertise a play called by that name."
"Oh, Harvey! I think that was wild. I wouldn't do
such a dangerous thing just for advertising."
"Well, I don't know. We expect to advertise our-
selves by our expedition, don't we?"
"But we're not doing it for that! We are doing it
because it's brave and venturesome — and wonderful."
"And we'd better get at it right away, Phil. See, the
dawn is coming, and the first thing we know it will be
daylight before we're out of sight of the house, and then
they'll come out and bring us back."
" That's so, Harvey. Everything is in the boat. No,
wait; there are the marine-glasses hanging on the fence."
The boy ran and got the glasses, and then the two
friends were ready for their wild adventure. For weeks
they had been planning to outdo Captain Anderson, Cap-
tain Frietsch, and all the other hardy mariners who have
crossed the Atlantic in small craft. They were two boys
of thirteen and fifteen, and they intended to cross the
western ocean in the catboat which they owned in
partnership. They were quite aware that their parents
would not countenance such a plan, so they had equipped
and provisioned their boat in secret, keeping her far
down the creek which led into the bay ; and now they
were about to embark.
"Let's get the mainsail on her," said Harvey, and in a
few minutes they had the canvas spread. Both boys
knew how to sail a catboat on the comparatively peace-
ful waters of the bay, though as a matter of fact neither
of them had ever been out in a gale even there. They
had both made short coasting voyages on stanch steam-
ers, and had formed a wrong idea of the might of old
ocean. Looking down on a five-foot sea from the deck
of a steamer fifteen feet above it', and looking up to it
from that of a catboat three feet below it, are very differ-
ent matters. But the gravest trouble with these two boys
was the inflammation of their minds by reading sensa-
tional newspaper accounts of the voyages already referred
to, and also trashy novels depicting such sea heroes as
never existed except in the minds of hack writers for
cheap story papers.
" We sha'n't have any trouble getting out of the creek
with this wind," said Phil.
" No; it '11 be abearn all the way out into the bay and
out to the sea, too. Shove her off, Phil."
Pliil braced his back against the mast and pushed with
his foot against the pier. The sail filled, and the boat
glided gently down the creek just as the east began to
glow with the rising of the sun. The bay was quickly
reached, and the boat, getting the full force of the fresh
morning breeze, sped away with a fine smother of foam
under her lee bow. Harvey did the sailing, while Phil
set to work to get the breakfast, for their early rising and
the work of preparation had made them both hungry.
Phil had often cooked aboard the boat, and the fact that
she was heeled far over to port did not inconvenience
him at all. There was a place.for the little oil-stove just
forward of the cabin, but Phil preferred, in clear weathei-,
to bring it out into the cockpit and cook there. In half
an hour he had hot coffee, boiled eggs, and rolls all ready,
and the two friends fell to with fine appetites.
"I tell you what," exclaimed Harvey, "this is just
great !"
"You bet it is!" said Phil, with his mouth full of
bread.
"See, "cried Harvey, "there's an ocean steamer just
coming in. How surprised some of those fellows will be
when they meet us half-way across."
Phil was speechless with delight at the very thought.
An hour later the catboat passed the point that marked
the entrance to the bay, and got the run of the long ocean
swells under her forefoot. It was an ordinary summer-
day swell, but it appeared to be extraordinarily large to
the inexperienced boys. Phil ran to look at the aneroid
barometer which hung in the cabin, and found it had
fallen a little.
"Too bad, "said Harvey; "I suppose we're going to
run into a gale of wind the first thing."
" Well," said Phil, confidently, " the Elsie can weather
any gale that a sixteen-foot dory can."
Which remark showed that Philip did not know much
about the sea-going abilities of catboats or dories. How-
ever, the day wore on, and noon was reached without
any sign of an immediate storm. When it was five min-
utes of twelve by the little clock in the cabin Harvey
brought the sextant on deck. At precisely twelve he
gazed through the sight vane at the sea, and brought
down the reflection of the sun by moving the index bar.
Then he read off the arc, 72° 41' 00".
"How's that!" exclaimed he.
"Why, Harvey," cried Phil, "that can't be right."
" That's so," answered Harvey, looking rather gloomy.
"We can't be in latitude 72° 41' 00" already, because
we've only just left latitude 40° 30' about three hours
ago, and there are sixty miles to a degree. We couldn't
have sailed that far, you know."
" The sextant must be out of order," said Phil.
"That's what's the matter," said Harvey; " but it's too
late now. We must go by dead-reckoning — just keeping
account of how many miles we sail on each course, and
then adding them up, you know."
At three o'clock, when they were some thirty-five miles
out, it began to cloud over and look like a squall. The
boys double-reefed the mainsail and prepared for trouble.
At four o'clock a fierce storm of wind, accompanied by
thunder, lightning, and rain, swept down upon them
from the southwest. For half an hour it blew a small
hurricane. Harvey had taken in the mainsail as soon as
he felt the weight of the wind, and the catboat, yawing
wildly, went scudding away before the wind. At the
end of half an hour the squall ended as suddenly as it be-
gan, and the boys hoisted the sail with the reefs still in
it. Just as they were about to shake them out the breeze
came out of the northwest, fresh and strong, and Harvey
decided that they would better let the reefs remain.
Shortly before six o'clock they began to learn something
about the ways of old ocean, for the sea began to rise,
and the great curling crests rose astern of the catboat
threateningly. Of course the little craft steered wildly,
and it made Harvey's arms ache to hold her on her course.
Phil went below to get the supper, and he felt that the
boat was tossing greatly. Suddenly Harvey lost his grip
on the tiller, and the boat partly broached to. A big
green sea curled in over her quarter, half filling the cock-
JANUARY S, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
179
pit. At the same instant a cry of dismay broke from the
galley.
" What's the matter?" called Harvey, anxiously.
"The oil-stove has fallen over and smashed; and I
can't cook anything anyhow, because she pitches so."
"Come up here a minute. We're half full of water,
and it doesn't run off fast enough."
Phil hastened out with a tin pail, and began to bail out
the cockpit.
"What ever shall we do now?" he asked, as he flung
the water over the side. " We shall have to live on cold
food."
"As soon as this blow is over," said Harvey, "we
must try to find some way to mend the stove. We can't
get along without hot tea or coffee."
But the blow did not appear to be inclined to pass over.
The barometer continued to fall and the sea to rise. In
the mean time the wind backed point by point, till it went
round to south-southeast, and there it staid. All old
sailors know that a southeaster on the Atlantic coast is
the worst kind of a storm. At midnight it was blowing
what even an old seaman would have called half a gale,
and a heavy sea was running. Harvey and Phil had
tucked in their close reef and then lowered their peak.
Now they found that this ordinary trick of catboat sea-
manship was of no avail on the broad Atlantic. The
gaff swung madly, and made the mast buckle and jump.
"Hurry forward, Phil," said Harvey, "and take in
the sail."
Phil was so hungry and tired that he could hardly drag
one foot after the oilier, but he realized that Harvey's
order must be obeyed. He started forward, but as he
went along the top of the cabin a mighty sea broke over
the little boat, filling her sail and literally dragging the
mast out by the roots. At the same instant Phil was
swept from his feet and hurled into the sea amid the
tangle of canvas and ropes.
For a moment Harvey was stunned by the swiftness
and extent of the disaster. But the next instant a half-
strangled cry from Phil, who was struggling for his life,
recalled the boy to his senses. He sprang to the side of
the boat, and leaning far over, dragged the heavy water-
soaked mainsail off Phil's body by main strength. Then
seizing Phil by the collar of his stout flannel shirt, Har-
vey dragged him aboard the boat and hauled him into
the cockpit. In the mean time the heavy seas were driv-
ing the broken mast and boom against the side of the
little vessel in a way that threatened to make a hole in
her. Harvey left Phil lying dazed and nearly uncon-
scious in the cockpit while he got the axe out of the cabin
and hurriedly began to cut away the wr-eckage. A few
sharp blows sufficed to free the mass, from the hull of the
boat, and away the tangle of spars, canvas, and ropes
went driving across her stern.
"This will not do,"said Harvey; "we'll be swamped
if we don't ride head to it."
He procured a bucket from the fore-peak, and made
fast to its handle a long rope. Then he tied the other
end of the rope to the stern shackle where his main-stay
had been, and hove the bucket overboard. It made an
excellent drag, and held the frail boat head to the seas.
Harvey now hastened back to Phil, who was just begin-
ning to revive. He had swallowed a good deal of water,
and for a short time was dreadfully sick. When the
nausea had passed off. the poor boy sat on the flooring of
the cockpit weak and despairing.
"Oh, Harvey," he said, with a choking voice, "I sup-
pose we shall never see home again."
"We mustn't give up, Phil, old man. The boat is
afloat yet, and she seetns to be tight and sound. This is
a summer gale, you know, and it can't last forever. Be-
sides, we are sure to fall in with a ship soon, and then we
shall be taken aboard and get dry clothes and hot coffee."
The morning dawned without any evidence of a com-
ing break in the gale. Phil was now able to move about,
though he felt stiff and sore. Harvey found that he
could heat some coffee in a tin can over the cabin lamp,
and when they had drunk this, and eaten some damp
biscuit and cold beef, they felt much better. But the
storm still raged, and frequently heavy seas swept the
deck of the boat. As the day wore on the two boys be-
gan to lose heart again. But suddenly out of the driv-
ing foam and rain there loomed the form of a brigantine.
"A sail! A sail!" screamed Phil.
Both boys stood up and waved their arms, shouting
wildly. On came the brigantine under a close-reefed fore-
topsail and a jib, scudding before the storm. It seemed
a grand sight to the boys to see her rise on the great
waves and then plunge into the dark hollows with a mad
roaring of foam under her black bows. But their exalta-
tion turned to despair when they beheld her rush by them
a quarter of a mile away. They cried; they screamed ;
they almost jumped overboard; but they failed to attract
attention, and the vessel swept away into the gray gloom,
and left them pitching hopelessly on the angry sea. The
two boys lay down in the cockpit and cried. But pres-
ently Harvey plucked up courage again, and said:
" We mustn't despair, Phil."
" Hark!" cried Phil, "what's that?"
"I don't hear anything but the wind and sea," said
Harvey.
" I do," declared Phil; "there it is again. Listen!"
"That's a steamer's whistle!" cried Harvey.
A few minutes later they saw a great black hull, sur-
mounted by two huge smoke-stacks, come rushing out of
the rain and mist.
"My goodness, Phil !" shouted Harvey; "she's head-
ing- right at us! She'll run us down!"
The boys again stood up, and waved their arms and
shouted. A minute later the big steamer was abreast of
them, not a hundred yards away, with her engines re-
versed. Hundreds of eager faces Ihied her rail, and
many hands pointed at the dismasted catboat. .
A heavy ten-oared cutter manned by strong sailors, and
steered by the first officer of the ship, came jumping
through the waves, and iu a very few minutes the boys
were taken off their sorry- looking craft, and placed
aboard the steamer.
" Two little boys!" exclaimed the ladies among the pas-
sengers, with sympathetic voices.
As soon as Harvey and Phil had been given a hot meal
and had their clothes dried in the engine-room they were
taken before the Captain, who asked them how they came
to be so far from land in such a boat. Harvey, who now
saw how foolish they had been, confessed the truth.
The Captain looked very grave, and said, "Young
gentlemen, it is very fortunate that we found you to-day."
" Well," said Phil, who had regained some of his cour-
age, "we are very thankful, for we shouldn't have liked
to ride out the gale through another night."
" No," said the Captain, solemnly; "this gale has not
reached its height yet. The sea will be twice as heavy
by midnight, and your boat will be at the bottom long
before to-morrow morning. Let this be a lesson to you,
boys. Never attempt any more such mad adventures.
Suppose you had succeeded in crossing the ocean — which,
by-the-way, you never could have clone with your igno-
rance of navigation — what good would it have done?
Would the world be any better or wiser for it? Do peo-
ple make a practice of crossing the sea in dories because
one man did it' Would they make a practice of crossing
in catboats if you had done it?
"I think," he added, smiling, "you have learned a
good lesson at a great risk, and when you reach your
homes to-morrow you will not start out again on such a
foolish errand."
180
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
BY WILLIAM HAMILTON GIBSON.
HE casual observer may
perhaps have noticed that
interesting law of nature
which governs the coloring
of flowers, and which con-
fines the hues of a given
flower or perhaps a botani-
cal group of flowers to two
colors and the combination
of these colors. The three
primary colors — red, yel-
low, and blue — are rarely
to be seen in the blossoms
of the same botanical group.
Thus we observe roses, hol-
lyhocks, chrysanthemums,
and tulips in all shades of
white, yellow, pink, red,
and crimson, even almost
approaching black, and
numberless combinations of
these colors, but never
blue. The same is true with
dahlias, zinnias, lilies, gladi-
oli, pinks, and portulacas.
On the other hand, flow-
ers which are notably blue —
as in the bell worts or " Can-
terbury-bells," and lark-
spur, which vary from white
through all shades of blue
to purple, pink, and even
reds — never show any trace
of yellow. This color lim-
itation of blossoms was
noted by De Candolle early
in the present century, who
classified flowers in two se-
ries as to their hues. The
first, which included the
yellow, was called the
Xanthic • ; the second, which omitted the yellow, the Cy-
anic
World-wide fame and a comfortable fortune await the
florist who shall produce a variety of blue rose, tulip,
hollyhock, or dahlia, or a yellow geranium or larkspur,
which all persist in their fidelity to their particular color
series. And yet nature gives us occasional exceptions
which, however, only serve by their contrast to empha-
size the universal law. Thus we see the water-lily group
— if we include the two separate orders Nymphcea arid
Nelumbo— with blossoms of pink, yellow, and blue. The
water-lilies of this latter color, allied to the Egyptian yel-
low lotus, which were to be seen in the New York City
Hall Park fountain last summer, were almost lost in the
azure of the sky which their surrounding waters reflected,
and yet they clearly had no right to include blue in their
gamut; purple or red possibly, but not blue.
But this is not so remarkable an exception as we find
in the hyacinth, in which the three primary colors are to
THE MATERIALS.
be seen with notable purity, blues, yel-
lows, and reds, and thus with possibili-
ties of almost any conceivable color, un-
der cultivation and careful selection.
Another striking exception, and one
which would have puzzled De Candolle
for its color classification, is the colum-
bine. One common species of the East-
ern United States, Aquilegia ccmadensis,
is of a pure deep scarlet color, as every
country boy knows. If we seek for our
columbines in the far West we shall
miss this familiar type, and find it re-
placed by another species, A. chrysantha, of a fine clear
yellow, or perhaps by its near relative, the A., ccerulea,
with its sky-blue corolla, a common species in the region
of the Rocky Mountains. Columbines, red, yellow, and
blue, are thus to be found in a state of nature, and we thus
find other cultivated forms which extend from a pure
white through all shades of purple.
The pansy, that protean offspring from lowly "johnny-
jumper," occasionally comes very near embracing the
entire gamut of color to which its name, Viola tricolor,
would seem to entitle it. Blue pansies and yellow pan-
sies we certainly have, but the ruddiest of its rich wine
tints when laid beside the red, red rose at once confesses
its purple, the remnant of blue which it cannot abso-
lutely eliminate.
The blue rose, blue tulip, blue dahlia, and blue carna-
tion have as yet refused to respond to the coaxing arts
of the florist, but he has at least succeeded in imposing
upon our credulity in a carnation pink of white, streaked
with peacock blue. Bouquets of these uncanny-looking
blossoms are frequently to be seen in our city flower
booths, but they smack of trickery, and the vendor is
rarely seen to look you in the eye as he responds "new
variety " to your inquiry as to the peculiar color.
"Are those natural!1" I heard a lady ask at a flower-
stall recently, referring to these pinks.
"Sure, madam," he replied, this time with easy con-
science. "They were picked in the conservatory this
morning."
But as he folded the paper carefully about her gener-
ous purchase, he didn't trouble her with the details of
the subsequent aniline bath to which they were subject-
ed, and of which they bore plain evidence upon close
scrutiny.
But if we are to resort to hocus-pocus in the tinting
of flowers, there is an artificial method available which
leaves this clumsy artifice of the blue -green pinks far
behind, and which, withal, affords a very pretty experi-
ment in chemistry, albeit presumably more enjoyed by
the operator than the victim.
A gentleman of the writer's acquaintance, while visit-
ing his sister at her country home, noted her fondness
for pansies, as indicated by the numerous beds and bor-
ders of the flowers
there. After ex-
pressing his ap-
preciation and sur-
prise at the endless
shades of color in
the bouquet which
she was gathering
for the library ta-
ble, he stooped,
and apparently
plucked one of the
blossoms from a
bed.
"Your pansies
are certainly the
most remarkable A TUMBLER CONCE \LED NEAR BY.
JANUARY 8, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
181
that I have ever seen. Here is one which is truly most
astonishing in color," he remarked, as he handed the
blossom to her.
It was received with an exclamation of amazement,
and with eager glances at the neighborhood of the bed
from which she presumed it had been taken. "Where
did you find it?" exclaimed his sister, in complete demor-
alization. "Which plant was it on? Why, I never
sau- such a pansy ! It's wonderful ! There must be
more. I never heard of such a pansy! Do show me
where you picked it."
" I got it from this plant here, I think," replied the
young man as soon as he could be heard; and stooping
carelessly he plucked another, which proved even more
of a surprise than the first, so vividly intense was its
color.
The first specimen was a dark pansy. The two usu-
ally deep purple upper petals now appeared of a deep
velvety peacock blue. The remaining three petals were
pale emerald-green bordered with deeper green. In the
second blossom,
the upper pair of
petals were now
transfigured in
vivid emerald-
green, the rest of
the flower being
of paler but al-
most equally da/,
zling brilliancy.
The demorali-
zation was more
and more com-
plete as another
and another of
the remarkable
blossoms was res-
cued from its obscurity,
always by the accom-
modating young man,
and added to the grow-
ing bouquet. Neigh-
bors on right and left
were quickly acquainted
with the remarkable dis-
covery, and a gathering
of excited natives soon
assembled in the parlor
to view the new floral MAKING A WHOLE PLANT GREEN.
sensation. The pansy
beds were soon the scene of busy commotion, but in the
eager search for the rare blooms fortune seemed still to
favor the young man, to the exasperation of several of
the bright-eyed young ladies, who, of course, did not hap-
pen to know of the young man's occasional sly recourse
to a certain tumbler concealed near by.
But the secret soon leaked out, and the victim con-
fessed and did penance. Had he realized what a commo-
tion his innocent prank was destined to create he would
not have yielded to temptation. But his sister was pri-
marily to blame. Why had she placed that bottle so
conspicuously upon his wash-stand? He had noted her
fondness for pansies, and a minute later had read " Am-
monia" 011 the label of the bottle, and association of ideas
and mischief did the rest. In. a casual stroll about the
pansy beds he had then gathered a dozen or so of the
several varieties and taken them to his room. Laying a
piece of crumpled paper in a saucer, he then poured about
a teaspoonful of the ammonia upon it, afterward gently
laying the pansies in a pile upon the paper, and thus five
from actual contact with the liquid, and covering the
whole with a tumbler. In two or three minutes tin-
fumes of the ammoniacal gas had done their work, and lo !
when he removed the tumbler his pansies had doffed their
blues and purples, and were transfigured in velvets of all
imaginable emerald and peacock and mineral greens,
though still retaining their perfect shape and petal tex-
ture.
To more completely confound the innocent with this
experiment the "operator" should
suddenly discover an entire plant
with all its flowers thus tinted in
emerald. A feat which may be ac-
complished by submitting the whole
plant to similar treatment beneath
a bell glass or other air-tight vessel
& , • or box, in which case the amount
H<& of ammonia used should be pro-
portionately increased. If the
concentrated ammonia is em-
ployed, a very small quantity
will be sufficient.
Flowers thus treated will
last in an unaltered condition
for several hours, though the
treatment is really injurious,
even destructive, to the tissues
of flower as well as plant.
Various other blossoms re-
spond in their
own particular
virescent hues to
the vapors of am-
monia, as the
reader will dis-
cover upon exper-
iment.
The fumes of
sulphur confined
beneath a glass,
as from a few common old-fashioned
matches, will play all sorts of similar
pranks with the colors of petals. A lit-
tle experimenting in this direction will
afford many surprises.
THE RIVAL MOTHERS.
THIS story is beyond doubt original to Japan in its present
form, but it bears a remarkable resemblance to another
celebrated judgment given more than two thousand years ago
on the other side of the world.
About a century and a half ago a woman who was a servant
in the house of a daimi/o had a little j;irl born to her. But it
was inconvenient for her to have the child with her in the dni-
myo's mansion, and so she put the little one out to nurse \\ ith a
woman in the neighboring village. The child grew to be- very
intelligent, and the foster-mother, who was a heartless woman,
thought she saw an opportunity to earn money through the
girl's services, and determined to keep her. Accordingly, when
the, mother's term of service expired, and she came to get back
her child, the foster-mother treated her claim as false, said the
child was her own, and utterly refused to give her up.
So at last they came before Oka, the, town magistrate "!' Ycdo,
who, after some thought, hit upun a novel plan of deriding. He
placed the child between the two mothers, had each one take an
arm of the child, and them ordered them to pull! He could
then tell, he said, which one drserved to have the child. The.
foster-mother, thinking only of winning, pulled with all her
might; but the true mother, full of her nti'eclion for her child.
couldn't bear to inflict on it such brutal pain : and she let <;o as
soon as she felt the other woman pulling. "The child is mine !''
exclaimed the foster-mother, triumphantly. " Not so !" said Oka,
sternly: "you are a pretender: this other is the true mothei."
Then the false mother confessed her deception, and begged
for pardon. The people-, \\hen they heard of the judgment, were
full of admiration for the penetration and sagacity of their great
magistrate.
182
HAMPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.*
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
fll AFTER XIX.
BREASTWORKS AROUND THE GUNS.
AN hour later the whale-boat safely reached the De-
troit, and Harold made his report. Mr. Crane ex-
pressed his approval, and complimented the boy on his
clever escape.
" Hal," said George, as they were turning in, "I hard-
ly know what to say to you. I came near ruining the
whole thing-."
"Well, George, if you don't know what to say, don't
say a word, and let's go to sleep. We haven't much
time."
A few minutes later both boys were in the land of
dreams. Harold was the first to awake on the call
of the messenger, at ten minutes of four in the morn-
ing. .
" Turn out, old man," said Harold, shaking George.
" All right," exclaimed George, rolling out of his bunk,
and beginning to tumble into his clothes.
It was clear and still when the boys reported on deck
for the morning watch.
" It's going to be an active watch this morning, young
gentlemen," said Mr. Bun-ell, the officer of the deck,
"so keep your weather eyes lifting."
" Ay, ay, sir," came the regular response.
"George," said' Harold, a minute later, as they paused
a moment near the mainmast, "look down yonder."
The young cadet turned his gaze in the direction in-
dicated, and slowly but deeply the details of the scene
impressed themselves upon his mind, there to remain as
long as he lived, the memorial record of his first moving
experience in the service of his country's flag. Admiral
da Gama had not replied to the last communication of
Admiral Benham, but lie had read between its curt lines
the challenge of a spirit that would not brook light treat-
ment. The bay swam in the glory of the morning sky,
silver blue streaked with dull crimson and purple. Not
a cat's-paw roughened the polished surface of the great
natural basin, which was lambent with the radiant re-
flection of the heavens. The gray slopes of the Organ
Mountains formed a strong background for the picture.
In the foreground the troubled city of Rio de Janeiro,
with its taller turrets lined in sombre silhouette against
the sky, seemed to rest in temporary dreamless peace.
Before the water-front, less than half a mile from the
shore, lay Captain Lockwood's bark, the Alma, swinging
to her arched cable, her yards stripped and squared, and
her jib-boom housed. A slender vane fluttering at her
main-truck, fanned by some gentle upper current that
did not touch the sleeping water, was the only visible
sign of life aboard her.
Just beyond her lay the rebel war-ships Trajano,Gua-
nabara, and Libertacle, the last outside and furthest to
the north. Their decks were silent, not a figure show-
ing above the bulwarks. Slim night pennants trembled
aloft, but thin, steady streams of smoke flowed from their
smoke-stacks, showing that there were fires in the fur-
naces and steam in the boilers. Beyond these ships, fur-
ther out in the bay, lay the Tamandare and the massive
hull and frowning turrets of the formidable Aquidulm u
These two ships were riding to short cables, and both had
steam up. Frank Lockwood was striding up and down
the Aquidaban's quarter-deck. His face was deathly
pale, and there were blue hollows under his eyes. He
was suffering the greatest agony of mind that had ever
* Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 784.
come into his young life, for he feared that a general en-
gagement between the insurgents and the American fleet
was imminent. He had determined that he must do his
duty, but the fierce desire of his heart almost amounted
to a prayer that the first fire of an American gun might
stretch him on the deck.
"This is my punishment," he murmured, half aloud.
"I might have known that my wild craving for advent-
ure would bring its own retribution. But would I have
suffered any remorse if I had not been brought face to
face with the possibility of fighting against my own coun-
trymen? No, no; this is a lesson for me."
Fortunately for Frank he could not know what an im-
portant part his classmates were to take in the approach-
ing scene or he would have been in still deeper pain.
They were at their early morning duties aboard the De-
troit, and their thoughts were not of Frank at that mo-
ment. Harold had mounted the forecastle-deck, where
he had a clearer view of the bay. He caught George's
eye, and nodded tp him to look out again through the
port. As he did so he caught sight of a tug, well known
to be in the employ of the insurgents. She was steam-
ing out from the shore of Cobras Island. She ran along
the line of American ships, and it was easy to see that
her people were taking accurate note of the condition of
preparation aboard each vessel. Having completed her
tour of observation, she hurried away with half an acre of
foam under her bows, and went alongside the Liber-
tade.
"Aha!" said Harold to himself, "she is carrying the
news to his highness."
"Mr. Briscomb," said Mr. Burrell at this moment,
"send for the bugler."
George was surprised at the order, for it was half an
hour earlier than the usual time for getting the bugler
ready to sound the reveille; but of course he answered
with the ever-ready "Ay, ay, sir!" and obeyed at once.
It was just 4.30 o'clock when the brisk notes of "I can't
get 'em up" rang out on the berth-deck, followed by the
shrill piping of the whistle of the boatswain's mate, and
the familiar cry: "Turn out all hands! Up all ham-
mocks!" But the routine order was destined not to be
obeyed that morning. Before the bugle had ceased to
sound, the Executive Officer, Mr. Crane, swung himself
on deck with his cap jammed well down over his
eyes.
"Good-morning, Mr. Burrell," he said; "have you
issued the order about the hammocks yet?"
"No, sir," was the answer. "I thought it would pre-
vent confusion to wait till the men began to come on
deck."
"Very good," said Mr. Crane. " I'll attend to it my-
self."
Mr. Burrell saluted and turned away. Mr. Crane
mounted the bridge. George, who had heard the brief
dialogue, waited anxiously to see what was coming next.
His suspense was short. The petty officers and men
came tumbling up the hatchways and lined themselves
along the rails ready to pass up their hammocks to the
s towers.
"Keep fast with those hammocks!" was Mr. Crane's
curt order.
Then he called Harold and George, and in a few words
told them what he wished. The astonished crew were
set to work building breastworks with the hammocks.
One was made across the poop abaft the six-inch rifle,
and others around the wheel and across the ends of the
bridge. As the men started at this unaccustomed task,
a low, irresistible murmur ran along the deck and for a
moment threatened to grow into a cheer. The men
looked into one another's faces with blazing eyes and
fast-coming breath.
JANUAKY 8, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
383
"S'help me, bloomin' bully!" muttered Peter Morris,
beginning to look eager, " but it means fig-lit!"
"Cool and steady's the word, lad," said Harold, qui-
etly.
The cockswain looked the boy straight in the eye, nod-
ded his head approvingly, and said,
"Cool an' stiddy, you says, sir, an' cool an' stiddy it
is."
The work of building the barricades occupied most of
the crew for three-quarters of an hour. Then Mr. Crane
gave orders to lower the four boats at the quarter-davits
and moor them off the ship. By the time this had been
done and the men were back on deck, Commander Brown-
son came from his cabin and mounted the bridge. At
the same instant Harold, whose eyes were quicker than
those of the quartermaster on watch, touched his cap and
said,
"Signal from the flag-ship, sir."
"Two-forty-nine — get under way," said Mr. Crane.
The next moment the order to weigh anchor was given
aboard the Detroit, and at the same second George and
Harold saw that all the other American war-ships were
under way.
CHAPTER XX.
READY TO FIGHT.
" FOUL 'anchor, sir."
That was Harold's report as the anchor rose into sight,
and consequently the Detroit advanced at a very slow
pace while the work of clearing the anchor was in prog-
, ress. She was moving straight down the bay, and the
other ships of the American fleet were turning over their
propellers just enough to make steerageway. Now an-
other string of flags rose to the San Francisco's signal
yard-arm, and a moment later the answering pennants
were flying on the New York, Newark, and Charleston,
but not on the Detroit. Harold looked wonderingly at
the Commander and his aides on the bridge; but it was
evident that they had noted the signals. Harold was
puzzled for a moment, but suddenly he said to himself:
" We got our orders at the meeting last night."
Commander Brownson picked up a binocular and took
a look at the insurgent ships Guanabara, Trajano, and
Libertade.
"Our friends over there," he said, laying down the
glass, "are preparing to receive us."
He smiled as he spoke, and then curtly ordered the
man at the wheel to port a little. The Detroit's head
swung slowly around till it pointed toward the centre of
the opening between Enchadac and Cobras islands, when
the order was given to go ahead steadily. By this time
it had begun to dawn upon all hands that the Detroit
had special duty to perform, and there was an air of
breathless expectation all through the ship. At 6.25 the
bugler was again summoned, and at 6.29 this brisk call
was sounded:
I
" General quarters!" exclaimed Harold, as he sent post-
haste for his sword.
" This here are a-gettin' to look like fun," said Peter.
In a moment the ship was alive with a great bustle of
action. The men of the Navigator's Division set to
work to rig the hand steering-gear in case the steam-gear
should be disabled by shot. They also brought axes and
hatchets for clearing away incumbrances on the deck.
A spare compass was placed in a safe spot, leads and lines
were laid near the foot of the fore-shrouds, and hammock
and boom cloths were stopped down. Chronometers and
other instruments of navigation had to be stowed away
out of the reach of shot or the influence of the jar of
heavy gun-fire. Fire buckets were put in order, the cables
extra stoppered and made ready for running, and extra
lashings put on the anchors.
The surgeon opened up his case of instruments, and
made ready his operating-table in the sick-bay. Basins,
towels, lint, bandages, and all the dread paraphernalia of
the hospital stood in ghostly array in the white-walled
apartment; while the bay-men bustled about adding here
and there a touch to the preparations. Tackles and
slings were rigged to lower away the wounded, and the
grave-faced surgeon sat, with his coat off and his sleeves
rolled up, waiting.
In the powder division, charged with the all-important
business of distributing am munition, activity was at fever-
heat, yet everything was done coolly and in order. The
officer in command of the division gave the keys of the
magazine and fixed-ammunition rooms to the gunner,
who distributed them among his mates. The men al-
lotted to the magazines put on their felt-soled shoes and
magazine clothes, and carried wet swabs and cans of
water for drinking or drowning fire to their places. The
screens were let down, scuttles opened, chutes placed, and
shell-whips rigged to hoist the heavy shot to the spar-
deck. Hose was uncoiled and let out, the steam-pump
made ready, and water-tight bulkheads closed. When all
was complete, and the scuttle -men, runner -boys, and
whippers at their proper stations, the officer in command
of the division reported to the Executive Officer.
On the spar-deck the guns' crews, under the watchful
eyes of the division officers, prepared the big weapons to
do their deadly work. The gun captains of the six-inch
guns threw open the breeches, inspected the bores, look-
ed to the gas-checks, put in place the breech-sights, and
saw that the necessary appliances were at hand. Other
men freed the elevating-gears, placed the loading-trays
under the breeches, laid the rammers and sponges on the
deck, brought tubs of water and put them at the rear of
the guns, and provided cutlasses, revolvers, rifles, and
bayonets for the crews. At the four-inch rapid-fire guns
similar preparations, though of a simpler nature, were
going on. At the Hotchkiss six-pounders the crews of
four men rapidly made the pieces ready for loading. In
the tops men were hoisting ammunition for the guns
aloft. The marine guard, with rifles at an order, mustered
on the poop-deck, ready to be sent where their services
would do the most good. As each division completed
its preparations the officer in charge of it reported to the
First Lieutenant. Little more than three minutes elapsed
before the entire battery was ready for loading. Com-
mander Brownson smiled slightly and nodded at Mr.
Crane, who gave the order:
" Sponge! Service charge, common shell."
"Worry good, too," murmured Peter; "makes the
bore slick."
This order applied only to the six-inch guns. The big
bristle sponges were dipped into the tubs, and then run
through the chambers of the guns. The shell-men and
powder-men went to the ammunition scuttles and received
the powder and shells from the men at the whips.
"Load!" said Mr. Crane, in a low sharp tone that
was audible all over the ship.
The shell-men of the six-inch guns entered their shells,
which were pushed home by the loaders, the powder fol-
lowing- in a similar manner.
"W'ich the same it goes in at the back door werry
quiet," muttered Peter, " but comes out o' the front werry
lively."
"Peter," said Harold, trying to look stern but with
smiling eyes, " you must keep quiet."
The second captains closed the breeches, and the first
184
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"GENERAL QUARTERS!"
captains inserted primers, hooked the lanyards, full
cocked the looks, and stepped back. At each rapid-fire
four-inch gun No. 4 of its crew stepped up with the car-
tridge resting in the hollow of his riglit arm, and shoved
it into the breech, which No. 3 closed with a snap. The
Hotchkiss six-pounders and the machine-guns aloft were
also loaded, and for a few seconds nothing was heard
save the clanking of breech-plugs as the guns were closed.
And now every division officer and gun captain stood
gazing intently on the Executive Officer, whose calm and
immovable countenance was as inexpressive as the face
of the Sphinx. Commander Brownson stood leaning
lightly against the rail on the starboard wing of the
bridge. He knew that his ship was ready for action, and
he was watching through his glass the movements of
the baric Alum and the insurgent war-ships. It was evi-
dent that Captain Lockwood was aware of the progress
of events, and was preparing to make an attempt to move
his vessel. It was equally plain that the crews of the
Gnaiiabara and Trajano had gone to quarters. In the
momentary breathing-spell that now came, Harold and
<reori:e had time to look about ihem. Harold was on
the forecastle deck beside the six-inch gun, which was
under his immediate charge, and George was posted be-
tween the two forward four-inch guns. The Detroit was
siiMiuing ahead at a four-knot gait, the ripples parting
gracefully around her moderate ram bow and streaming
away sli-rnward in glistening ribbons. The sunlight
danced on the polished curves of her brass-work, and laid
splashes of silver on the chocolate chases of her loaded
guns. An intense silence reigned. The officers on the
bridge, with swords and revolvers at their hips, stood like
statues. The men on the deck were motionless, every
dark eager face turned toward the
bridge. A dead calm prevailed in the
bay, and it seemed as if Nature herself
was astonished at the unwonted spec-
tacle of an American man-of-war pre-
pared to fight.
Bang!
Every man started as the report of a
gun rang out.
" Now what's coming?" Harold asked
himself, as lie listened for the shrieking
of a shell.
' 'Tain't fur us, sir," said Peter, in a
low tone. "It are a small pup of a
rebel tug up yonder."
"Here they come; I wonder what
they're up to?"
At that moment Commander Brown-
son had the Detroit's engines stopped,
and gave the crew orders to stand at
ease. He was entirely too wary to be
drawn into the local quarrel.
"Them small fry is exchangin' of
compliments with the shore batteries,"
remarked Peter.
"I wonder what our own ships are
doing?" said Harold.
" They ain't a-loah'n', sir." said Peter.
" Look, sir. There's the 'Frisco a-look-
in'out fur the batteries on Cobras an'
Enchadas islands."
"Yes, and here's the Charleston a
mile astern of us. She must be our
support."
"An' look at the Newark, sir, a-lay-
in' broadside to broadside with the Ta-
mandare."
"And the New York is laid opposite
the Aquidaban," said Harold. "That
will be the centre of the fight."
"Lord bless ye, sir," said Peter, "it '11 never git as fur
as that. If we kicks 'em oncet they'll squeal an'
run."
" And, Peter, does it occur to you who's to give the first
kick?"
" Wy, we is; an' bully well we'll do 't, too, sir."
And then that one big, significant thought seemed to
flash upon the minds of all the Detroit's men. The little
gunboat had been honored with the task of making the
initial movement. She was to voice Uncle Sam's impera-
tive demand for justice to his merchant-ships and respect
for the stars and stripes. Every man turned a hungry
gaze on the Gttanabara. Trn/aiio, and Libertade, and the
gun captains fingered their lanyards.
The insurgent tugs, barking like mongrel curs, swung
in wide curves away from the shore, and circled out
among the merchantmen. A few scattered sullen shots,
and they steamed slowly away. Commander Brownson
swept the bay with his binoculars, pausing for a more
careful survey of the Alma. He hung the glass on the
bridge rail, placed himself beside the engine-room tele-
graph, and signalled,
" Ahead slowly."
The propellers began to revolve, and the gunboat ad-
vanced. Harold noted that the shore was black with
people, and that the roofs of the houses in the city were
crowded with persons eager to see what the despised
Yankees were about to do.
" Port," commanded Commander Brownson.
The helmsman obeyed the order, and steadily the De-
troit swung around, heading so as to pass between the
bark Alma and the insurgent war-ship Trajano.
[TO n K
THE LITTLE RED BOOK.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND.
CHAPTER VI.
fllHE next day was Sunday. Eleanor awoke late from
_L the heavy sleep into which she had fallen towards
morning. The window of her little room faced the east,and
though the blinds were closed, the spring sun shone in
through the cracks, making golden bars on the drawn
shade.
It was not her own room, and she had never slept here
before. Where was she?
Eleanor raised herself on one elbow and looked about.
The door into the adjoining room was half open, and she
recognized it as belonging to Ruth Barnes. Oh yes, she
was spending the night here. But what was the heavy
weight at her heart? What had happened?
Then she remembered Bertha's words, and fell back on
the pillow. But could they be true? Did Bertha know?
Did Mrs. Brewster know? Surely her mother would not
have deceived her.
She recalled many things her mother had told her
about the place where she was born, and how her father
had died when she was only a year old, and all the lit-
tle details of her babyhood. She thought Bertha must
be mistaken. Perhaps it was not true at all. Bertha
had not seemed to like her lately. Probably she had only
said this to frighten her. At any rate, she would ask
Madge what she knew about it.
She tried to rise, but her head ached ; and Ruth, coming
in, persuaded her to stay in bed, at least until after break-
fast. Mrs. Barnes would not allow her to go to Sunday-
school and church; so Madge went off without her, and
it was not until late in the day that the two girls were
alone together. Eleanor felt better as the day wore on.
The load at her heart lightened, and by the
time afternoon came she felt and looked
like her usual self.
Mrs. Barnes wished her to spend anoth-
er night with them, but her mother had
told her to be at home, so she declined the
invitation, begging that Madge might be
allowed to go home with her.
The two girls departed at last, carrying
their travelling bags, and feeling that it
was a great "lark" to keep house entirely
alone without any grown people. They
had had many good times together, but
anything quite so unique.as this had never
happened before.
Old Catherine, who had lived with Mrs.
Rogers for years, gave them their tea, and
after that was over they took their books
and settled down by the library lamp to
read for a time before going to bed.
"I think I'll tell Madge about it now,"
thought Eleanor. "I don't believe a word
of it, but I'll tell her, to see what she says."
She had grown light-hearted during the
day, and felt that it was quite impossible
that Bertha had spoken the truth. She
could almost laugh about it now. Then,
aloud, she said :
"Madge, Bertha Weld told me the most
dreadful thing yesterday! It was what
made me ill."
Madge's book was down in an instant.
"What! You don't mean to say Bertha
has told you? Oh, I begged her not to I
I'll never speak to her again — I'll —
"But, Madge!" cried Eleanor. "Did
you know it, and is it true? You can't
know what I mean !"
"Yes, I do. You mean about you and your mother.
I know all about it, but I didn't want you to hear it."
"Madge, "said Eleanor, in a low voice, springing from
•her chair, "how long have you known it?"
"About two weeks. We found it out that day — don't
you know?"
"What day?"
"Why, the day we read Mrs. Brewster's diary and you
wouldn't stay. We found it out in that. Don't look so
queer, Nell ! It isn't so dreadful."
Eleanor did not speak.
"I didn't want Bertha to say anything about it. I
haven't told any one," she continued, " not even mamma.
I knew Bertha had told some of the girls, but I never
dreamed that she would really tell you. I think it was
awfully mean of her, and I wouldn't mind it a bit if I
were you, Nell dear!"
"Wouldn't you mind if you suddenly found out that
Mrs. Barnes wasn't your own mother, and you didn't
really belong to her at all?"
"Yes, I would," said Madge, honestly.
"Well, then, you can just imagine — Oh, Madge!"
cried Eleanor, breaking oft' suddenly, "I can't stand it.
I thought it wasn't true, but iiowr you say it is, and you
saw it in Mrs. Brewster's diary. It must be true. Mamma,
mamma! Where are you? I want you. Oh, you are
not my mother! What shall I do?"
The child was on the floor in an agony of grief.
Madge was terrified. She could do or say nothing to
comfort Eleanor in the least. Old Catherine, corning in,
was frightened too. She knew nothing of the cause of
this strange attack, and imagining Eleanor to be in pain,
MAMMA, MAMMA! WHERE ARE YOU? I WANT TOf."
186
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
she put her to bed, and proceeded to make a huge mus-
tard plaster, her favorite panacea for all ailments.
But the child became quieter after a time. Her calm-
ness was unnatural, but neither Madge nor Catherine
suspected it. They both felt relieved, and Madge went to
bed and to sleep longing for the next day, when she
might tell her mother all about it and ask her advice.
She could not mention the diary, because of her promise,
but she could say that Bertha had received the informa-
tion from a trustworthy source.
But as it happened, when Madge went home the next
day, after school, she found that her mother and sister had
gone to the city, and would not return until evening.
She contented herself by going to Bertha Weld and giv-
ing her a piece of her mind, as she expressed it. But
Bertha would not release her from her promise about the
diary.
"Very well, "said Madge, at parting, "Eleanor is very
ill, and if she dies it is all your fault for telling her!"
" I guess she won't die this time," replied Bertha, scorn-
fully. "And as for you, you're not to be trusted at all.
First you're friends with one. person and then with an-
other. I like steady people. You are as fickle as a
weather-vane."
Madge walked away, feeling that there was a good deal
of truth in Bertha's remarks.
In the mean time Eleanor was tossing about in a high
fever. Catherine, thoroughly frightened, sent for Dr.
Brewster, the husband of Mrs. Brewster, whose diary had
caused all the trouble.
He looked at Eleanor, felt her pulse, and then said to
Catherine, " I shall send for her mother at once."
" She's not my mother," said Eleanor, in a dull voice.
" Oh, good land ! She's wandering! She's out of her
head!" exclaimed Catherine, throwing her apron over
her face.
"Hush!" said Dr. Brewster, sternly, though he thought
the same thing himself. "Go at once and get Mrs.
Rogers's address. If Mrs. Brewster were at home she
would stay with the child until her mother comes."
" Not Mrs. Brewster!" cried Eleanor, getting very much
excited. "Not Mrs. Brewster! She knows all about it.
And mamma is not my mother. Mrs. Brewster said so."
"Very well, my dear," said the doctor, soothingly.
" You shall have a nice trained nurse in a cap and apron.
How will that do?"
Eleanor said nothing to this. She lay with heavy eyes
looking at him.
"Just think of it, Dr. Brewster! She's not my own
mother at all. Do you hear?" as he made no answer.
"Yes, I hear," he replied, quietly. "Suppose we
don't talk any more about it now."
"Oh, it is true!" moaned Eleanor. "He knows it,
and he can't deny it."
And then Catherine came back, and the doctor hurried
off to telegraph to Mrs. Rogers and to secure a trained
nurse for the little girl, whom he considered very ill in-
deed.
It was evening when Mrs. Rogers arrived. She hast-
ened to Eleanor, but the sight of her excited the child to
such a degree that the nurse was forced to ask her to
leave the room.
" You are not my mother!" cried Eleanor, starting up
in bed with Hushed cheeks. " You are not my mother,
and never were. Mrs. Brewster says so, and she knows
all about it."
Mrs. Rogers was terribly distressed. It was such a
strange form for Eleanor's delirium to take. What
could she mean by it? She supposed, of course, that it
was merely the ravings of fever; but it seemed as if
there must be some cause for the constant reiteration of
these particular words. And it was very hard that she
should be kept from her daughter's bedside.
Eleanor continued very ill, and every one in Durham
soon knew that it was extremely doubtful if she would
recover, and it was rumored that the cause of her illness
was the announcement that Bertha made to her at
Madge's party. Ned Brewster had been present when
she did so.
All this time Mrs. Rogers was quite unconscious of
what was being said. She wandered about her own
house, unable to enter Eleanor's room, and refusing, in
her distress, to see any of the many friends who called
upon her. Aud they, knowing the facts of the case,
were at a loss to know what to do to help matters.
It seemed to be a well -authenticated story. Who
could interfere?
Finally Dr. Brewster took the matter in hand. He
was a shy, retiring man, who never talked much, hurry-
ing from one patient to another, and attending solely to
his business. But his wife's name was connected so
closely with this affair that he felt that it was time to
speak. If she had been at home he would have left it to
her, for she and Mrs. Rogers were old friends. She was
in Boston.
At first he had supposed that Eleanor's words were
merely the ravings of fever, as much that she said un-
doubtedly was, but he soon discovered how matters stood.
The next morning, after his usual visit to his patient,
he told Mrs. Rogers that he wished to speak with her,
and they went into the library.
" Mrs. Rogers," he said, " I want to ask you a question.
Is Eleanor your own child?"
"Dr. Brewster, what do you mean?" exclaimed she, in
amazement, staring at the doctor, and believing that lie
too was out of his mind.
"Just what I say. Is Eleanor your own child?"
"Of course she is! Whose else could she be, Dr.
Brewster?"
" Mrs. Rogers, you are probably quite unaware that the
story has gone all over Durham that Eleanor is your
adopted daughter — that you took her from an orphan
asylum."
Mrs. Rogers was now quite speechless. She could only
gaze at Dr. Brewster in silence. Finally she said,
"Is it possible that any one believes this absurd
story?"
"Yes; a great many people do. It seems to be well
authenticated. And the strange part of the thing is that
my wife is quoted as authority."
"Your wife! Mary Brewster?"
" Yes, Mary Brewster. What it all means I can't pre-
tend to say. As far as I can find out, Mr. Weld's daugh-
ter— what's her name? Bessie — Bella —
"Bertha!" put in Mrs. Rogers, impatiently.
"Yes; Bertha was the first to tell the story, and I
understand she says she got it from Mrs. Brewster."
" Dr. Brewster, it is the most outrageous scandal I ever
heard !" cried Mrs. Rogers. " I shall go at once to Bertha
Weld and insist upon an explanation. And Mary told
her? When is Mary coming home?"
"Not for a week or so; but if necessary we will send
for her. I think I had better speak plainly, Mrs. Rogers.
This story has been the chief cause of Eleanor's illness.
She was a little run down before, and in such a condition
that a shock of this kind was too much for a child of her
extremely high-strung temperament. Though she is de-
lirious, she knows what she is saying when she declares
that you are not her mother. Unless she is made to
understand the truth I will not answer for her life."
"Let me go to her!" cried Mrs. Rogers, starting up.
" I can make her understand."
But the doctor barred the way. "My dear Mrs. Rogers,
it would never do. You know the mere sight of you
throws her into such a paroxysm that it is almost impos-
sible to quiet her. We must manage in some other vay
.TANUAKY 8, 1895
HAKPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
187
First of all, I would advise you to see the Weld girl, and
find out what she means by the story and why she quotes
my wife. If necessary we will telegraph Mary to come
home. Let me take you down there now in my buggy.''
Dr. Brevvster was really afraid to leave Mrs. Rogers
lest she should insist upon going at once to her daughter.
She hurried from the room, and in a moment returned
ready for the drive.
When they reached Mr. Weld's house Mrs. Rogers was
informed that Bertha was at school.
" I might have known it!" she cried, in despair. "Dr.
Brewster, what shall I do now?"
The usually self-contained and independent woman
was quite beside herself with indignation and grief. If
Eleanor were to die !
"Stay right where you are, and I will go to the school
and bring the child back to you." And he drove off with-
out another word.
Bertha Weld, ever since she heard of Eleanor's illness,
had been in a most unhappy frame of mind. She was
thoroughly frightened at the effect of her words. She
had not really intended to tell Eleanor, although she had
threatened more than once to do so; but when the girl
unexpectedly came from behind the window-curtain, hav-
ing overheard Bertha's speech to Ned Brewster, it was
too late, and Bertha told her all.
And now she was truly, heartily sorry. They said
Eleanor was going to die. If she died, would it be her, Ber-
tha's, fault? After all, why had she hated her so? Elea-
nor had never done her any harm. She simply had been
Madge's friend. And Madge did not like Bertha any
better for all she had done. On the contrary, she re-
fused to have anything to do with her, and Bertha was
more miserable than ever in consequence.
Poor Bertha had no one to whom she could unburden
herself. She cried herself ,to sleep every night. If she
only had a mother like other girls! And she had tried to
take Eleanor's mother away from her. Even if Eleanor
were adopted, what difference did it make? She and Mrs.
Rogers loved each other like mother and daughter, why
had she interfered? Oh, if she had never found the little
red book !
She was in the geography class at school, paying little
attention to the questions, and giving a list of the pro-
ducts of South America when asked to name the princi-
pal cities, when some one entered the room and requested
Miss Parker, the teacher, to excuse Miss Weld. Dr.
Brewster wished to see her.
Bertha started violently, and a suppressed murmur ran
through the class. Every one supposed that Eleanor
was worse, and that Bertha had been sent for, though no
one could imagine why. All they knew was that Bertha
had caused her illness.
"I wouldn't like to be in Bertha's shoes if papa is
going to take the matter in hand!" whispered May Brews-
ter to Madge.
"Silence, young ladies!" said Miss Parker, rapping the
desk. "Miss Barnes, will you bound Brazil?"
Bertha never knew how she got out of the class-room
and down the stairs. Dr. Brewster was waiting outside
in his carriage.
" Get your hat and come with me," he said, brusquely.
"Don't stop to make an excuse to your teacher. I will
be responsible for that."
Bertha tremblingly obeyed, and in silence they drove
to her own home. Dr. Brewster stopped his horse at the
gate, and telling her to go into the house, drove quickly
away. Bertha walked up the path and across the piazza.
The door was opened for her by Mrs. Rogers.
"I wish to know what you mean !" cried Mrs. Rogers,
seizing the girl's hand tightly and leading her into the
parlor. " What is this story?"
"What story?" gasped Bertha, faintly.
"The story that you have been spreading about me
and my child. If she dies, it will be your fault. Do you
hear? Your fault?"
"Mrs. Rogers!" said Bertha, growing very white.
"Don't!"
"Then tell me what you mean. I must get to the
bottom of it at once. Who told you that Eleanor, my
darling Eleanor, my only child, was not mine? Who
told you, I say?"
" I— I read it in Mrs. Brewster's diary, "faltered Bertha.
" Mrs. Brewster's diary ! What do you mean? Where
did you see it?"
"I picked it up in the street the day she went to Bos-
ton."
" And read it !" said Mrs. Rogers, scornfully. "So that
is what you did that Eleanor would not join you in! I
remember. And to punish her for her sense of honor
you made this up about her. For shame!"
"I didn't make it up. It is there, written down."
" Get it for me at once. I must see what Mary Brews-
ter means by this absolute lie."
Bertha flew from the room. Her limbs trembled so
that she could scarcely get up stairs. She opened her
desk, and seizing the fatal little red book, turned to go
down again; but she found that Mrs. Rogers, unable to
restrain her impatience, had followed her up stairs.
"Give it to me!" she said, stretching out her hand.
" Where is the place?"
"July 20th," said Bertha.
Mrs. Rogers turned to the date, and read the memor-
able entry.
" Spent the morning with Mrs. R. She. told me much '
about her life. E. is adopted, but is never to know it.
Came from an Orphan Asylum. Loves her, however,
like her own child."
Mrs. Rogers tossed the book to the floor with an excla-
mation of contempt.
" And why should it mean my daughter and me?" she
said. "Is there no other 'Mrs. R.1 in the world?"
"And it isn't really you, Mrs. Rogers?" cried Bertha.
" Oh, oh, I am so glad! And so sorry I thought so! I
knew Mrs. Brewster was your most intimate friend, and
so- we thought —
"You thought it was a fine chance to make mischief,
and you proceeded at ouce to do so. I tell you again
that if my child dies it will be because of you. All your
regret will make no difference now. It is too late. If
she dies I never wish to see your face again."
And saying this Mrs. Rogers left the room. She went
out of the house.and found Dr. Brewster waiting for her.
"I have telegraphed to Mary," he said, as he helped
her into the carriage. " I thought you needed her, apart
from the advisability of getting her testimony about this
absurd story, whatever it may be. What did you find
out from the girl?"
Mrs. Rogers told him.
"Humph! The great thing now will be to prove to
Eleanor that the whole thing is false. It will be a diffi-
cult matter, but I am convinced that it is the only thing
to save her life."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE DAY AFTER.
OH dear! it's so far to next Christmas!
Seeins long as forever and more.
I've been counting the days over V over,
Three hundred. and sixty-four!
That's a dreadful lot to lie waiting
To hang up your stocking, you see;
But to-nmrro\v — that's something — there's only
Three hunitml mid xixty-three ! A. H. D.
TYPICAL AMERICAN SCHOOLS.
GROTON SCHOOL.
BY GRAFTON DULANY GUSHING.
ABOUT a mile and a half from the pretty, old New is the principal bathing-place, and on a June afternoon it
England town of Groton, on a ridge sweeping gently is covered with naked little figures running and diving
down to a broad valley and up again, far away towards and splashing until the fatal "all out " from the Master
the Temple Hills, you will find the buildings and fields of in charge puts an end to the fun; all dress leisurely, and
Grotou School; the clean solid red-brick buildings with wander up the narrow road, lined with tender green
birches, to the school-house and to tea.
From the float, also, the new arrival
passes his swimming examination,
across the river and back, accompanied
by a boat, and surrounded by friends
who have successfully passed the ordeal,
and who are prodigal of encourage-
ments and friendly advice. As no boy
is allowed to go out in a boat without
a Master until he has passed his exam-
ination, to succeed becomes a matter of
some moment to him.
On the day of the races every boy
who can get a place in a craft of any
description hastens down to the pictu-
resque old red bridge— the finish— while
the less fortunate wait half-way down
the course, and run along the bank. Lit-
tle boats dart here and there, or ride
lazily under the shadow of overhanging
branches. The wheezy steam-launch,
the PoUyicog, whose greatest speed is
with engines reversed, sails slowly and
majestically by, and her shrill whistle
is answered by the discordant blasts of
tin trumpets. Then comes a rush of
figures along the bank, and the rival
crews appear around the bend. The
race is over; the supporters ol^lie victorious crew are
elated, and of the defeated one correspondingly depressed.
Canoe races follow. There is then a swarming of boats
through the arches of the bridge, towards a boat-house
WELL FITTED FOR A WINTER'S DAY OF SPORT.
their white trimmings; the low picturesque Old House;
the stately New House with its big doors and white colon-
nade; the squat gymnasium; the tall severe walls of the
fives courts; and across the road the bright white and red
farm buildings, and the pretty little
stucco chapel ; and here and there foot-
ball fields, the first eleven field under
the shadow of the chapel; the diamond
on the lawn between the school-houses.
Everywhere there are light and sunshine,
and the air comes fresh from over the
mountains, the long line of purple
mountains stretching off indefinitely
beyond the valley.
Down in the valley, hidden by the
trees, flows the river Nashua, with its
turns and twists and shady banks, its
little tributary streams which the boys
love to explore. The Nashua is a con-
stant delight; we bathe in it in sum-
mer, we skate on it in winter, we row on
it, we paddle on it. Oh, those long
summer afternoons with the hard pull
up the river, the coolness of the plunge
into the dark waters, the lying al full
length in the green meadow in the shad-
ow of a tree, with the comfortable sense
of having earned the right to rest, and
the floating down with the current tow-
ards evening!
On the edge of the river is the, boat-house, where are
kept the four oared working-boats in which the two boat
clubs, the Hemenway and the Squannacook, row their
annual race, and the numerous canoes and Adirondack
boats which cover the river in the spring term. The floa't
IN THE DORMITORY.
by, where
neighbors
have spread white-covered tables
under the tall pines, and where
cake and lemonade help to heal
many a disappointment.
A characteristic scene is the
half-hour between supper and evening work on a spring
evening. Between the two wings at the back of the New
House the younger boys are watering'or weeding their gar-
dens; for they have little plots to cultivate, and the own-
er of the best-kept garden receives a prize at the end of
THE NEW SCHOOL.
the year. In front of the house boys are playing scrub,
or passing baseballs, or knocking up with a tennis-racket,
while shouts of laughter come from the broad steps un-
der the colonnade where the Head Master is reading1 Hap-
py Thoughts aloud.
In the autumn term football is, of course, the all-ab-
sorbing occupation. Groton has always been successful
in football, and plays the game with much vigor and
skill. The team-play and the body-checking are particu-
larly good, and the right traditions have grown up. The
Captain of the eleven is a great man in the football sea-
son, and is looked up to with much awe and admiration
by the younger boys. He is a bit of an autocrat, aiid
runs his team as he thinks wise, no
one venturing to question his orders on
the field, not even the Masters.
The great match of the year is with St.
Mark's. It is the school's Harvard and
Yale game, and is played in alternate
years at Groton and at Southboro'.
When the game takes place at South-
boro' only a few boys — the second
eleven, the Captains of other teams, etc.
— are allowed to go. The rest of the
school spend the day in a ferment of
excitement. There is a miniature Gro-
ton-St. Mark's played by the younger
boys, and St. Mark's invariably wins.
This is looked upon as a sure sign of
victory. Long before it is possible to
receive news, the telephone is besieged
by impatient groups. At last joyful
tidings are received, and there follow
the usual excessive demonstrations —
shouts, cheers, and ringing of bells, the
ships on the back, and the rough han-
dling of friends — which are indispens-
able to a proper expression of manly
joy. Preparations are at once made
for a celebration; a large bonfire is
built, and a procession is arranged to
welcome the victors. Sometimes the
boys dress themselves in rubber coats,
night-gowns, and red wrappers (the
school colors being black, white, and
red) ; sometimes a sulky is decorated
with appropriate mottoes, in which the
Captain is dragged gloriously home. Theeleven is met half
way to the station by the procession, with its transparen-
cies, banners, torches, drums, and fifes, and is escorted
back with much solemnity and amid no little enthusiastic
clamor.
The last event of the autumn term is the Christmas
concert at a neighboring country-house. The school
orchestra, the glee club, the mandolin club, and such in-
dividuals as have talent perform. A satiric poem by one
of the Masters is always received with uproarious appre-
ciation. As you step out of the garland-hung hall into
the quiet night with the strains of the Christmas hymn,
" Oh, come all ye faithful !" still ringing in your ears, and.
AN AFTERNOON IN JUNE AT TUE BOAT-HOUSE
190
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
as you drive home in the starlight over the crisp snow
through the mysterious white country your heart is
filled with peace and good-will towards men.
It always seems as though the winter term were going
to be long and dreary; as a matter of fact, it is so full
that before one can realize it is fairly under way, it is
gone. It is an intimate time ; a season of short days
when one gathers around the blazing open fires; perhaps
the most homelike time of the year. On half-holidays
there is afternoon tea in the Head Master's house for the
sixth form, and you will often find little tea-parties going
on in the rooms of the other masters. If you want really
to appreciate a cup of tea and a fire, spend a good hard
afternoon coasting or skating or snow-shoeing. A New
England winter may be cold, but it is dry and clear, and
with a bright sun cold is ever endurable.
In Groton every one is out-of-doors in winter as well
as in warmer weather. If there is neither skating nor
coasting nor snow -shoeing, one can at least ramble
through the woods, or chop a path, or take a good walk.
There is rarely an excuse for doing nothing. There are
various hills which are used for tobogganing, and occa-
sionally afford wonderful crust coasting. A chute is put
up every winter near the school-house for both tobog-
gans and double-runners. There are several ponds on
which one can play hockey, but it is when the river is
frozen that skating is at its best; then one can fly along
for miles up or down stream, often on ice as smooth as
glass. The fives courts are a tremendous resource in
stormy weather; the game is very exciting, comparing
favorably with racquets or court-tennis, is capital exer-
cise, and requires skill and agility. A fives tournament,
with doubles and singles, takes place ev.ery year, and a
winter meeting in the gymnasium. A certain amount
of exercise is compulsory. Every evening-, except on
half-holidays during the winter term, at five o'clock, di-
rectly after afternoon school, the boys have calisthenics
for about fifteen minutes. This brings them all into the
gymnasium, and many remain to work there.
On Washington's Birthday the sixth form give a play.
It is true maybe that 110 great dramatic talent is dis-
played ; it may also be that it takes a lively imagination
to make a tree or a plant out of the green smears 011 the
cotton scenery, but the audience is independent, shuts its
eyes to such small defects, and enjoys the performance.
In a school like Groton so much is done for the boys
that there is a danger they may forget that they in their
tarn owe something to their. generation. And so a Mis-
sionary Society was started from which should originate
plans to help the less fortunate. Committees investigate
cases of need which come before the society ; discarded
clothes are collected and distributed among the poor;
Sunday-school classes are formed in the neighborhood.
This year a series of evening services in villages where
there is no church met with great success. A clergyman
or a lay-preacher, and four or five boys who could sing
or play on some instrument, formed each party, and a
simple service with a good deal of singing was held once
a week for four weeks in some hall or school-house.
There were four different parties, and each party took
a different district. The best work done by the Mission-
ary Society is perhaps in the Summer Camp for poor
boys. The society has bought an island on Lake Asquam
in New Hampshire, and has erected a simple building
which will hold about twenty boys. During the sum-
mer the Masters, the graduates, and some of the older
boys devote two weeks each to the supervision of poor
boys who are sent from the cities. The boys are divided
into squads to do the necessary work, to make the beds, to
clean the boats, to chop the wood, to get the provisions.
They bathe, play baseball, walk, etc., and improve greatly
in weight and appearance after two weeks of good plain
food and a healthy life. Last year about eighty-five
poor boys came to the camp. It is to my mind one of
the striking features of Groton School that it is constantly
growing in new fields of usefulness, and that it is not
content with the mere improvement in school methods
and school machinery, but is pressing on toward the
highest ideal of education, the rearing of Christian men
who are willing to turn their hand to any work which
their country and their generation may demand of them.
Ten years ago, when Groton School was founded, the
Old House was the only school building — if we except
an old pink barn which was fitted up as a gymnasium,
and which has since disappeared. The boys lived, studied,
and recited in the same house. To day the boys live in
the New House, and do all their studying and reciting, ex-
cept evening preparation, in the Old School, which has
been slightly modified for that purpose. The left end of
the New School, as one faces it, is given over to the rooms
of the matron, the infirmary, the kitchens, and the ser
vants' quarters. The corresponding right end is the Head
Master's house. The central part of the building con-
tains a large school-room, a sunny library, and dormi-
tories in the wings running out behind. On its left is
the dining-hall, a splendid room the height and width of
the house, panelled in dark wood. On its right are the
studies of the older boys, and a dormitory above. The
boys sleep in large, light dormitories; each boy lias a cu-
bicle, as it is called, separated from the adjoining ones by
partitions which do not reach to the ceiling. A Master's
study and bedroom open into each dormitory, and there
the boys assemble before going to bed and chat, or are
read to; very cheery and enjoyable these little reunions
are, I can tell you. Each dormitory has a lavatory be-
longing to it, where are the baths and washing apparatus.
The old-fashioned theory that there is a natural an-
tagonism between Masters and boys has never been able
to find u foothold in Groton. The boys like and trust
the Masters, and are, in turn, trusted absolutely. The
comradeship is complete. The boy's life is the Master's
life; they play the same games; they do the same work;
they are always together. No Master ever does anything
alone; whether it be work among the poor or an after-
noon's amusement, he always has some boys with him.
Masters play on all the teams. And so the boys develop
naturally, as in their homes, surrounded by kindly influ-
ence. Punishments are, of course, inflicted ; but the
boys recognize that it is in no unkind spirit, and the
pleasant relations are rarely even temporarily disturbed.
This sympathy makes the work in the class-room easier
and better. Every Master knows each boy well, and does
his best -to make his recitations interesting and instruc-
tive to the whole class. This relationship is no mere
coincidence. The policy of the school is to approach, as
much as it is possible, to family life. The Head Mas-
ter's house has always been separated from the rest of
the house only by a door, so that the boys may come and
go with freedom. The Head Master and his wife live in
the midst of the boys; they eat with them, are with them
constantly, and there is no part of the school-life in
which they do not share. Three evenings a week the
boys are invited into the parlor to play games, and on
other occasions too numerous to mention the Head Mas-
ter's house is made a meeting-place. There is nothing
that can be done to make a school-boy's life happy and
homelike that is not done.
It is very difficult to analyze or to express in words
the charm of a place. To a stranger, I suppose, the
cluirin of Groton seems to lie in its youth, its enthusiasm,
its air of happiness'. To the younger boys it is enough
that they are happy without asking why. But to the
older boys, to the graduates, and to the Masters, the
school stands for all that is best and brightest and hap-
piest in life. They love the place, they love the work,
and they give to both the loyalty of a lifetime.
JANUARY 8, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
191
A LITTLE BOY'S PLAN.
" "IF I bad made the calendar." said Bobbie, yesterday,
J_ "I sort of think I'd have it lixed in somewhat different
way.
I'd not have put the Christmases so very far apart :
I think that six mouths 'tween 'em would please any young-
ster's heart.
" And scattered through the other months I'd have a lot of
times
On which we'd decorate the house aud gayly ring the chimes;
On which we'd have, uot Santa, hut some other Saint like him,
Who'd go about aud gratify our every little whim.
"Who'd bring us cakes aud caudy in the middle of July;
Who'd bring us cars and wagons when the June sun's in the
sky;
Who when September came about would bring us lots of things
To make us all as happy as a band of Brownie Kings.
"It wouldn't he like Christmas altogether, for, you know,
July would find the country warm and without any snow.
The man for June could enter by the coal-hole, just as we
Expect dear Santa C'laus to come in by the chiininee.
"In this way we'd have lots of things a-comiug all the year,
And waiting for the Christmas -time would not be long aud
drear,
And best of all we'd not wear out our toys, and I am sure
The old ones would be newer when we gave 'em to the poor.
GASTON V. DRAKE.
A CLEVER RETORT.
THAT was a clever retort which a laborer once made to Lord
Chancellor Camden of England It appears that in conse-
quence of the interest which the Lord Chancellor took on behalf
of Wilkes, he became so popular that the parishioners of Chisel-
hurst, where he resided, made him a present of ten acres of
common. His lordship, who was a very early riser, was the first
to discover, in one of his morning walks, that a poor widow who
resided on the common had all her geese stolen during the pre-
vious night. He chanced to meet a laborer going to work, and
thinking from being wrapped up in his great-coat that he was
unknown to the man, he enquired of him respecting the geese,
and asked him if he knew what punishment would be inflicted
on the offender who stole the geese from the common. The man
answered, "No."
" Well, then," said his lordship, " he would be transported for
seven years."
" If that is the case," replied the laborer, " I will thank your
lordship to tell me what punishment the law would inflict on
the man who stole the common from the geese."
A CORRECTION.
WILBUR was quite hoarse, and when the doctor came he said,
"I guess you've got a frog in your throat, eh?"
" Guess not," said Wilbur. " Tain't big enough for anything
bigger 'u a pollywog."
MERELY A GCTESS.
" How did you break your slate, Jack ?" asked his mamma.
" I don't know," said Jack. " I drew a picture on it of a boy
throwing a stone at a bird, and I guess maybe the stone hit the
slate instead of the bird."
ONE OF JACK'S PROBLEMS.
"DON'T see much sense in boys studyin' grammar," growled
Jack. " If a hoy 'd ought to hold his tongue all the time, what's
the good o' kuowiu' how to talk ?"
NOT A BAD PLAN.
THE children were playing up in the attic when suddenly
Whitty gave a fearful yell.
" What is the matter ?" said the nurse, from below.
"Nothin'," replied Whitty.
" Then what are you yelling for ?"
" Coz I had a half a dozen of 'em in my throat, and I thought
I'd better yell 'em now than do it to-night when Papa's asleep."
THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF TOMMY
TODDLES.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTER IV.
AS the two approached the Poor House the Reformed Burglar
caught sight of them, and turned around to see who his
visitors were. Then he stuck his head in through an open win-
dow and shouted,
"Hi there, below! All hands ou deck to repel hoard-
ers !"
"Does he think we are coming here to live?" asked Tommy
of his companion.
"I guess not," answered the Sheep. "Why?"
" lie said something about boarders."
"Oh, that's only an idiom of the piratic vocabulary," replied
the Sheep, learnedly — so learnedly, in fact, that Tommy was just
as much iu the dark as he was before he put the ques-
tion.
When he looked up at the house again a wild-eyed individual
with long hair aud a tierce mustache, holding a knife in his
teeth and a pistol in each hand, burst out of the door and stood
beside the Burglar.
"This must be the ex-Pirate," thought Tommy, as he cau-
tiously got behind the Sheep. " I wonder if he'll shoot?"
But the ex-Pirate was uot that kind of a man at all. When
he saw that there were strangers present he put his pistols back
into his belt, aud came up to the visitors with a genial smile,
and shook hands with the Sheep and then with Tommy.
••Welcome to the Poor House," he said. "There is nothing
here, and so you will tiud nobody any richer than your-
selves."
" But we have not come to stay," murmured Tommy.
"Nothing comes to stay," replied the ex-Pirate, with a sigh.
"Everything that comes, goes."
During this conversation the Reformed Burglar, who had put
down his paint-pot, approached the group. Tommy noticed that
he only had one eye, and that he wore a blind over the other.
He wanted to ask him what was the matter with this other eye,
hut he thought the Burglar might feel offended at such a ques-
tion, so he merely said,
•• How do you do, sir?"
" To-day I do it iu red," answered the Reformed Burglar, with
a bow.
" But I did not ask you that," said Tommy.
" You should have," said the Burglar; "it is important."
•• I don't like red," interrupted the ex-Pirate. " I prefer black.
1 wanted him to paint the house black."
" But that would have looked so sad," remarked the little
hoy.
••No matter; black is the pirate's color, and I like it." The
ex-Pirate was getting somewhat excited.
" Black is a beastly color," shouted the Burglar.
"It's better than red," retorted the ex-Pirate, hotly, and then
there followed a lively dispute between the two inmates of the
Poor-House as to the relative merits of red aud black for mural
decoration.
" Well. I'm doing the painting, anyhow," sniffed the Reformed
Burglar, finally, and he went back to his pot aud brushes.
" He's that way," said the ex-Pirate, turning to Tommy in an
apologetic way. "But won't, you sit down? We have no
chairs, but there is a bench. I painted the bench. Yon see,
it's black.''
Tommy felt grateful for this invitation, for he was beginning
to feel a little bit tired after his walk. There was a rude table
in front of the bench, and they all sat down and leaned back
against it.
"I write here sometimes," said the ex-Pirate as he sat down
between his two guests.
Tommy didn't know exactly what kind of a reply this state-
ment called for, so he said, " Is that so ?"
"Of course it's so," replied the, ex-Pirate, facing the little l>»y.
"If you don't believe it, ask the Reformed Burglar."
"I do believe it," answered Tommy,* e«hat timidly, for he
feared he had offended the ex-Pirate. " What I meant to say
was 'Indeed,' or something of that -m i ."
"That's all right." continued the ex-Pirate, cordially,
thought perhaps you doubted me. Some people doubt pirates,
\ou know, and although I am not a piiate now, I was once, and
my reputation clings to me. If you would like to see how I do
it, just to be convinced, I will write some poetry now."
192
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
'THIS MUST BE THE EX-P1KATE," THOUGHT TOMMY.
But Adelaide, as maidens will
Nine cases out of ten.
Would sit upon the front-door step,
And smile upon the men.
It happened thus that One-eyed Bill
Came walking down that wav.
And seeing pretty Adelaide,
He wished her a good-day.
And Addie said: "Good-morrow, sir,
How is the world with you V
Would you sit down here beside me
If I should ask you to?"
So William went right up the steps,
And sat upon her left
(For, if you will remember, of
One eye he was bereft).
He sat there all the afternoon
Willi pretty Adelaide,
And when he went back home again
He loved the gentle maid.
Said he unto himself: "Ha! ha!
True unto mv profession,
I'll burgle this young woman's heart
And make it mv possession."
But this was his last burglary ;
For when he won her heart,
She made him swear that he and his
Profession then would part.
So One-eyed Bill and Adelaide
Were married very soon,
And sailed away to foreign lands
To spend their honey-moon.
"Oh no, don't, "said the Sheep, impulsively.
"But, if you prefer, I will recite some of my own ('(imposi-
tions,''continued the ex-Pirate, heedless of the Sheep's protest.
"I can recite something I wrote here. Would you like to hear
it?"
"Certainly,"' said Tommy, politely; "is it about pirates ?"
"No; it's about the Reformed Burglar. Would not you like
to hear about him? I can recite something about pirates after-
ward, if you would like me. to."
"Never mind. Let us hear about the Reformed Burglar,"
said the Sheep, wearily.
The ex-Pirate appeared to be pleased at receiving even this
slight encouragement. He climbed up on to the top of the
black table, and Tommy and the Sheep turned around so as to
face him. He bowed very politely and elaborately in all direc-
tions, just as if there had been a large audience present, aud
then began. His manner of speaking was very melodramatic,
aud Tommy suspected once or twice that he saw the Sheep hid-
ing a smile. But the little boy was very much interested, be-
cause he had wanted .-ill
along to know more about
the Burglar, and this piece of
poetry told him a good deal.
There was a bold bad burglar
Whose name was One-eyed
Bill,
He used to burgle shops and
banks,
And also tap the till.
Now in the street where
William lived
There dwelt a little maid,
Her face was very pretty, and
Her name was Adelaide.
Alas, she was an orphan, for
Her parents both were dead.
And her father's brother cared
for her
Now in her mother's stead.
When the ex-Pirate had finished speaking he clambered dowu
from the top of the table, aud bowed again to Tommy and to
the Sheep.
"Did the burglar really get married ?" asked the little boy.
" Certainly," answered the ex-Pirate ; " he married Adelaide."
" Well, where is she now ? Is not she poor too ?"'
"I don't know, "said the ex-Pirate, with an air of embarrass-
ment, as he glanced stealthily toward One-eyed Bill, who was
still zealously painting the side of the Poor House.
"Don't ask so many questions," whispered the Sheep. " It is
very embarrassing sometimes. When in doubt, always change
the subject."
Tommy did not like to be talked to in this fashion, especially
by a sheep, although he knew down in the bottom of his heart
that il was a litlli- inquisitive to ask questions about the private
affairs even of a reformed burglar. But it was evident to him
that the ex-Pirate felt slightly disturbed over the matter,.and
so he tried to change the subject, as the Sheep had suggested.
[TO BE CONTINUKII.l
Her uncle was a constable
Upon the town police,
And he used to keep a watch-
ful eye
Upon his pretty niece.
A VERY WISE LITTLE MOUSE.
"FoT.KS THINK Mi: A <;UK\T NINNY IF TIIKY
1'SPKOT HIK TO RISK MY NI'OK IN T1IKUIC. IT 18
ONLY NKOFSfiAKY TO SIT-IN.; Till: THAI', T1J ICN
TAKE THE CIIKKSE AT LEISURE."
UK KT'RUNG THE TRAP, AND MA Y RETURN FOR TUB
OUEKBIC "AT LEISURE."
H
HARPE __
TOUNG PEOPLE
314
].n\
•*?
Copyright, 1895, by HARPKB & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 794.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JANUARY 15, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A TEAR.
NEW YORK BOYS' WORK AND PLAY.
I! Y R K V. \V. S. R A I N S F O R D, D. D.
BOYS in a big city like New York are obliged to live
a more or less unnatural life; they cannot do some
of the things boys should always be encouraged to do.
Indeed, boys generally do these things without encour-
agement. No boy's life is complete and natural without
he has the opportunity to freely use his limbs as well as
his head. His legs, arms, and chest need education just
as much as his brain or his heart, and when for several
generations this education of exercise and play has been
denied the boys of a great city, the sad evidences of tins
denial are very easily seen.
The boys of London, for instance, are now sadly behind
the boys of England, just because they have been denied
such educatioii for many years. When the English offi-
cers are looking for recruits to join the army and go
all over the world to uphold the honor of the British
name and flag, while many volunteers come forward_in
London, comparatively few are tall enough or strong
enough to pass the very modest standard which the laws
of English enlistment require.
The London boys, until very lately, have had no play-
grounds but the courts, alleys, and streets, and such games
as can be played in these narrow places are too apt to iuter-
196.)
194
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
IN A RABBIT-TEAR
SCARCELY any animal is so harmless but that, if you
put it in the wrong place, it may not grow danger-
ous. It would be hard to name a more harmless-looking
creature than a rabbit, or one less likely to do a great
deal of mischief to anybody, yet on the Australian con-
tinent rabbits are a thousand times more feared by the
settlers who live there tlian all the dozens of kinds of
poisonous snakes that abound in the country.
Australia is a warm country, and for the most part it
is covered with grass. Snow never falls there, and there
are no severe frosts to prevent the grass growing, so that,
except in a bad drought, the grass grows there all the
year round. About twenty years ago some one set free
some wild rabbits in the great grassy plains where the
settlers fed their vast flocks of sheep and cattle. Rabbits
breed very fast everywhere, but nobody ever heard of
their increasing as they did in Australia. In a very few
years they had spread over the country by millions, and
had driven the cattle and sheep out of whole districts
where they left them nothing to eat. The settlers tried
many ways to get rid of th^m, but it looked as if they
had come to stay, and all the settlers could do seemed to
make no impression. At last, after all sorts of schemes
had failed to kill the rabbits, the settlers made up their
minds to fence them out and fight them from behind the
fences.
It was a terrible undertaking, for it meant putting up
many Inmdreds of miles of fences made so close that rab-
bits could not get in. At last they did it, however, and
now they are fighting the rabbits from behind these
fences. It is not an easy fight even now. If the fences
were not watched constantly the rabbits would get
through in spite of all the settlers could do. They swarm
up to the barrier in thousands, and to prevent them from
making burrows so close to the fence that some would be
sure to get under it, if only by accident, they catch and
kill as many as possible by means of traps. These traps
are so unlike any that my readers are likely to have seen,
and generally contain so many curious animals besides
rabbits, that I think a short description of one, with a
glance at its contents, may be of some interest to boys
even at this distance from the great rabbit campaign.
Let me first describe an Australian trap. It is made in
this way: First of all a hole is made in the wire fencing
about eighteen inches in height; then just inside the
fence a pit is dug about eight feet long, five feet wide,
and six feet deep. The hole in the fence opens about the
middle of the pit, and the ground is sloped with a spade
leading through the hole to the edge of the pit. A wooden
cover is built over the pit, sloping up to the fence so as to
include the whole height of the gap left in the wire fen-
cing. A trap-door with a hinge is made at one end of
the pit cover, about eighteen inches or two feet square, to
let a man get into the pit; then it is ready for business.
Simple as this trap is it could hardly be more efficient.
The rabbits as they prowl along the fence run down the
inclined path only to find themselves on a board which
tips up instantly, shooting them into the pit below. Once
in, there is no way out again, and they have to wait the
arrival of the executioner, as he makes his daily round
each morning, unless some other animal comes to fore-
stall him, which is not at all unlikely to happen. There
are other animals besides rabbits sure to find their way
into a trap of this sort. Some of them seem to go from
mere curiosity, but most go there on business. They
know that the rabbits are sure to be there, and they have
important business with the rabbits.
When the boundary-rider opens the trap-door in the
morning he lets in the light on a curious scene. At first
sight it is no easy matter to guess what the jumping, run-
ning, struggling heap of life can be that rolls and tumbles
about at the bottom of the pit. Then you begin to see
that it consists of a great variety of creatures, some of
which are terribly frightened of the others, and some of
which are only very much astonished to find themselves
in such a place and such company. The first you will
make out quite clearly will very likely be one or two
wallabies — a curious-looking little kangaroo from two
and a half to three feet tall ; they have evidently strolled
into the trap by mistake. There they sit up on end blink-
ing in the sudden flood of sunshine just let in upon them,
with a funny, puzzled look on their faces, until suddenly
some other creature or perhaps half a dozen at once jump
on to their long tails that trail behind them on the ground,
and then they make a little nervous hop, and light per-
haps on two or three rabbits, who struggle wildly to
escape. The terror of the rabbits is indeed the main
feature of the scene, and a second look will explain it.
Their natural enemies are there, and have evidently come
on business. There are perhaps three or four wild-cats,
already so overgorged with food that they are harmless
enough if the rabbits only knew it, but evidently feeling
indignant that they can eat no more rabbits, and can only
sit glaring in helpless disgust that so much excellent food
should be wasted.
Then, of course, there are snakes, perhaps only two or
three, or in some places a dozen. They are of all sizes,
but the kinds most likely to get into a trap are the larger
sorts that eat rabbits. They are of all colors — black,
brown, gray, some beautifully spotted, others striped with
various colors, and generally from four to eight feet in
length. These glide about through the throng of moving
bodies, their bright eyes glittering, and their heads mov-
ing with a graceful, wary motion backwards and for-
wards as they go. Occasionally, as some creature jolts
up against them, they draw their heads up and give an
angry hiss; but they have evidently had breakfast and
don't care for more.
There are sure to be lizards too. Most of these have
no business there, but a lizard is an unreasonable sort of
creature that never seems to know his own mind, and
these have, no doubt, come into the trap through sheer
curiosity, all of them, that is, but one kind. In a corner,
probably engaged in swallowing a last little rabbit, is an
"iguana" — the boundary -rider calls him a "goanner"-
who, alone of all the party, seems wholly undisturbed,
perhaps because every thing else gives him as wide a berth
as possible. He is, it must be confessed, ugly enough to
account for it. He is a large and very clumsy lizard,
from three and a half to even five feet long, and, as he
stands there in the corner, he suggests very unpleasantly
a small crocodile.
There are other creatures too in the trap, generally a
good many, if one had time to pick them out. There may
be a native bear — a clumsy, stupid, simple-looking beast,
about the size of a good big dog, with very thick grayish
fur, from amongst which his eyes look out with a puzzled
sheepish air which is almost irresistibly funny. Then
there are bandicoots, queer furry creatures about the size
of large rabbits, as well as a collection of native rats and
moles of different kinds. All are alike in having pret-
ty furs, and all bear in their structure the sign-manual
of the original Australian animal, the marsupial pouch.
AVe have stood in imagination at the trap-door of our
rabbit-pit longer than would have suited the boundary-
rider, who was supposed to be at our side. Your boun-
dary-rider is a busy man, and has a dozen more traps to
visit when he has cleared this one. He has, therefore, no
time to waste, but, after a single glance into the pit to see
what he has to deal with, he proceeds to business. He
first rolls the long heavy thong of his stock-whip round
his arm, and grasps the eighteen-inch long handle by the
thin end, then, without a moment's hesitation, he drops
through the trap-door into the pit.
JANUAKY 15, 1895.
HARPEPw'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
195
The new arrival is the signal for a confusion even
wilder than before. The rabbits and small furry crea-
tures scamper off in every direction. The simple-faced
wallaby makes a clumsy hop to get out of the way, while
the stupid-looking native bear shuffles clumsily to one
side. The wild -cats arch their backs, swell out their
tails, and grin and spit horribly. The snakes uprear
their crests, and hiss threateningly at the intruder. Even
the iguana backs a step and opens his jaws, showing two
formidable rows of teeth in an ugly snarl.
The boundary-rider, however, is accustomed to this sort
of welcome, and has no time to fool around with either
snakes or lizards. As quick as thought he strikes right
and left, breaking the vertebra? of a snake at each blow
of the heavily loaded whip-handle, and laying them writh-
ing on the ground, where he probably crushes their heads
with the same weapon, in case they should happen to be
poisonous. The wild-cats are free to go if they choose.
They kill rabbits, and are therefore so far privileged; but
they are blessed with a temper so bad that it is a chance
whether, after all, they don't feel the sharp deadly hJovv
with which the stock-whip dismisses the more innocent
furry denizens of the trap. In their case he is no respect-
er of persons. To possess fur is in the eyes of the bouii-
<lary-rider to have the mark of the beast, and therefore to
be a proper subject for a sudden death. Rabbits, bandi-
coots, native rats, moles, native bears, and wallabies are
all involved in a common and speedy slaughter. Even
the lizards, being in the way, get killed, with the one hon-
orable exception of the iguana. The boundary-rider him-
self is not a greater enemy of the rabbit than the igu'ana
is, and therefore the -iguana is privileged. He is rather a
fierce animal when meddled with, for he gives a very
ugly bite, so a plank is usually provided for him, by means
of which he marches out of the pit triumphantly, with
the honors of war. Then the bodies of the numerous
dead are thrown out of the trap, those that have furs or
skins worth selling in the Sydney market to be secured,
and the others, amongst which are, of course, the rabbits,
to be covered up in a trench as quickly as possible so as
to set the executioner free to attend to the other traps on
his daily beat. H. H. LUSK.
THE DOGWOOD-TREE.
"I CAN always tell a dogwood-tree
When I walk in Central Park,"
Said Jack, "for cau't you plainly see
You cau tell it by its bark?"
LITERARY SALAD.
Tj^LEANOR CHASE belonged to a literary society, and
J_J at the end of the'year when the meetings were over
all the girls wanted to give some kind of an entertain-
ment. Helen Jackson suggested a dance, "So we could
invite the boys, you know," but Eleanor, who had been
brought up in a literary atmosphere, thought a dance
was too frivolous for a literary society.
Progressive euchre was proposed, or a theatre party,
but none seemed quite consistent with the literary ideal
of the girls, so Mrs. Chase was called in, and the girls
poured out to her their tribulations, and begged for some
ideas.
After much discussion Mrs. Chase said: "Girls, why
not have a luncheon? And if you want it to be 'a feast
of reason and a flow of soul,' I will help you arrange a
dish of literary salad."
The girls agreed that this really seemed the best thing
to do, and it would at least have the merit of being some-
thing different from a luncheon with just "plain talk,"
as Grace Porter said. " And you know," she added. " it
is so frightfully hard to be entertaining1 from one o'clock
until four. I nearly die trying to think of something to
say, and the more I think the fewer ideas I have."
The rest of the girls had all had similar experiences
when they were hostesses, and any plan for helping along
the conversation was gladly welcomed.
The day was fixed for the luncheon, and ten invita-
tions were sent out, as each member of the society was
allowed to invite a friend.
The girls had great pleasure preparing for the lunch-
eon, and every thing looked so pretty when all was ready,
that Eleanor declared "anybody ought to be glad to
come to see such beauty, even if they did not hear a word
spoken or have a thing to eat."
The society colors were pink and green, so the table
was decorated with pink roses and smilax, and when the
guests saw the table they were enthusiastic enough to de-
light even Eleanor.
Mary Webster, the artist of the society, had drawn a
little sketch for each girl's luncheon card, and it was
characteristic of the girl in some way. A rhyme or some
quotation accompanied each sketch, and these cards
proved very entertaining.
After several courses had been served, and when the
guests would naturally expect a salad course, there was
served a dish of lettuce leaves made of tissue-paper.
Before this was passed, each girl was given a card on
which were twenty numbers, and to these cards were at-
tached pale green pencils by means of pink ribbons.
The lettuce leaves consisted of three different shades of
green tissue-paper, the edges being crinkled and cut in
the shape of a real leaf. A piece of white paper a little
smaller than the green one was pasted down the middle
of the leaf, and on this was written a quotation more or
less familiar. When every girl had her leaf of lettuce,
Mrs. Chase asked Jane Paul, the girl who sat at her right,
to read her quotation.
After Jane had read hers all the girls tried to guess
the name of the author, and without telling any one
they wrote down on their cards opposite number one the
author they thought had written the verse. Each girl
in turn read her quotation, and the name of the author
was written opposite the number of the quotation. When
all had been read the girl with number one read her
quotation again, and also read the name of the supposed
author. In this way the quotations were all read again,
and when finished the number of correct authors was
counted, and the girl who had written correctly the
largest number received the prize.
A great many quotations can be taken from Shake-
speare. If there should be great difficulty in guessing
the author the hostess can give a little help. One quota-
tion at this luncheon was,
"I, that denied thee gold, will give iiiy heart."
No one was familiar with the quotation, so Mrs. Chase
said, "I will tell you the next line, and then see if you
can tell the author." So she said,
"Strike, as thou didst at Caesar."
Immediately all said, "Oh yes, I know," and all put
down Shakespeare.
When one of the girls read this quotation,
" But the noblest thing that perished there
Was that young faithful heart,"
Helen Jackson said, " Everybody knows Casablanca wrote
that," and only one of the party knew the author was
Mrs. Hemans.
After this came the real and palatable salad, but I
assure you it was not enjoyed as much as the literary
dish. Ice-cream, fruit, and coffee followed, and when
the girls went away they declared it was the nicest lunch-
eon to which they had beeai, adding, "It was so literary."
MAY STOCKTON SHREVE.
196
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
THE KINDERGARTEN ROOM.
(Continued from front pupe.}
fere, as we all know, with the comfort of the inhabitants,
and so are forbidden by the police. London is a very
old city; New York a very young city. Tilings, there-
fore, that may be excused in the one are inexcusable in
the other.
In these latter days all sensible people give far more
thought to the growing-time of boys and girls than our
forefathers did, for they are beginning to understand that
the old saying "a stitch in time saves nine " is
far truer of a life than of a coat, and they are
disposed to agree with the saying of one of the
wisest of men, Plato — that the man who teaches
people to bring up their children is really a
greater and rarer man than he who teaches his
countrymen to successfully wage war; for the
former is great in making men, the latter in kill-
ing them.
This great New York, of which we are all so
proud, and in whose future we believe, is like a
rash young fellow, so full of life and courage
that he does very foolish things sometimes —
tilings that cost him a great deal to undo. One
of these things which we have done carelessly
and which has cost us dearly already, and is like-
ly to cost us a great deal more before we undo
it, is the tenement - house system of living. The houses
are so crowded together that no room has been left for exer-
cise or play, and the chief sufferers are the young people.
I have been asked to tell of some lit-
tle aid which we in St. George's Church
are trying to give by way of helping our
neighbors, what success has attended us,
and where we fail. I might sum up, I
think, truly, our efforts in one word, a
very comprehensive one when rightly
understood, and say we aim to provide a
little "recreation" for those so sorely in
need of it, and as you will see later on,
by recreation I mean far more than mere
amusement. I mean the re-creating,
making over again, that part of a boy's
life which is so apt to die within him,
or become diseased, because he never is
allowed to use it. I would say at once
that I do not think any church or society
can at present do more than point the
way to better things, so that good results
can be won, even where there are very
small means to win them ; and if in this
manner attention is but called to some
of these things that should be changed
in our city life, that should be provided for our young peo-
ple, public spirit will insist on these changes being made.
LEARNING TO BE TELEGRAPH OPERATORS.
1
THE CARPENTER SHOP.
I believe that the greatest need of our New York boy,
as I said before, is opportunity for recreation. He has all
the schooling and head -training he requires, though I
fear even this is often a very old-fashioned sort, and tires
him more than he needs to be tired, and interests him less
than he ought to be interested; but I am very sure, for
all his scholarship, he often has not much real education.
But you say, "Can a boy have plenty of schooling and
yet not be educated ?" Indeed he can, for education
means far more than knowing things. Education means
bringing out all that is best and manliest in him. A mail
is not only a being who thinks and knows things. These
tilings he may do and yet be a veritable demon, a curse
to himself and a terror to those who are forced to come
into contact with him. He must know how to make
good use of his knowledge, not evil use, and more than
that he must wish to make good use of himself. One
thing still further, before he is a truly educated man he
must know how to make good use of the ivhole of him-
self.
There was, I believe, an old custom among soldiers
long ago, in times of chivalry, when they made a vow
or went to war, they would sometimes put a sharp stone
in their shoe, or even blind one eye with a patch over it,
THE ST. GEORGE'S DRILL
until they had made some pilgrimage, or had done some-
thing they had vowed to do. This may have shown
their courage and determination — good tilings in them-
selves— but certainly it did not show their sense; for a
long pilgrimage they needed the fullest use of their feet,
and on the battle-field surely no one can find two eyes
one too many.
Now so it is in life; we need not only men and wo-
men, nor even good men and good women, but educated
men and women — people whose whole being is at its best,
and used for all it is worth — clear heads, clever hands,
healthy, pure, clean bodies. Then indeed will the coun-
try and the whole world be the better for the living of
such educated people.
But some of my readers will say, "This is only theory."
No, it is proved fact. At one of our State penitentiaries,
during a period of ten years, the average number of men
received each year was 504; out of that number the year-
ly average who had attended school was 437, while of
all these 437 the average number who had trades of dif-
ferent kinds was only 52. The lesson such figures as
these teach is very plain indeed. The boy who went to
school learned, no doubt, something there, but his fellow
pupil who took up a trade learned something more — he
learned what the first knew and he then tried to make
some real use of it. His fingers and arms were called to
the use of nis head. His trade was in itself an education
to him. He had, no doubt, the same temptation to idle-
ness and sin as the other, but he had what his fellow did
not have — something interesting to do, something that
he could not do without putting a good deal of himself
into the doing of it; and so when his poor school-fellow
fell into evil ways he kept straight, and his trade educa-
tion helped him to keep straight.
Now we have tried to establish at St. George's, gym-
nasium, athletic fields, drill corps, boys' clubs, and things
of that sort, but I have only space to speak of one of our
efforts particularly, which has for its aim this widening
of a boy's education. One of the troubles of our New
York life is, that it is not easy for boys to learn trades.
There is a great demand for office boys, messenger boys,
boys in stores, etc. In these positions they can earn
from two to four or six dollars per week, but I am
sure that this is the poorest work possible for boys.
When they are beginning to think of earning their own
bread it seems a fine thing to gain such a sum, and a
parent often foolishly encourages them to do so. School
is dropped as soon as possible, and three or four dollars
are quickly added to the earnings of the family; but the
young earner is really not earning much; he has left
school too soon; he has no trade, no prospect of gaining
a thorough knowledge of any one line of business. His
cheap work is in all likelihood used to oust some older
person who once began on the ladder of life just where
he is now beginning. The boy who ousts the man will
in a few years, when he asks for higher wages, be re-
placed by another much younger than he, and where is
he then? His best youth past, no sure position won, he
is only another hopeless recruit going to swell the great
sad army of unskilled. unorganized labor. But it is hard
for boys to learn trades in New York, not only on ac-
count of strong temptations that beset them to accept
positions that will not afford them fair opportunities to
rise in the world, but also for another reason. At present
the Trades Unions limit very strictly the number of ap-
prentices who can enter in any trade. They do this be-
cause they are afraid that there may be too many carpen-
ters or bricklayers or plumbers, too many for the work
that there is in this country for them to do; and thus it
comes about that many a lad wants to learn a trade, and
his parents are willing to work all the harder that he may
learn it, but he cannot get a place.
To meet such cases we started the Boys' Industrial
Trade School. We leased the house at 520 East Eleventh
SETTING TIP TYPE IN THE COMPOSING-KOOM.
198
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI-
Street, and made such alterations as were absolutely
necessary. On the ground-floor, in the main room, we
placed a carpenter's shop, and in the room back of that a
drawing-class. The next floor was fitted up for a school
in telegraphy, with ten instruments, and the third floor
was given up to a kindergarten school for boys from ten
and over in manual training. There are twenty benrhrs
in the carpenter's shop, each supplied with a complete
set of tools, which the boys are taught to use with care.
The work they are called upon to do is first prepared in
the drawing-classes.
The attendance at the telegrapher's class has not been
as good as at others. The reason for this is that the te-
legrapher's trade is not as good now as it was, and the
wages are lower than many other trades. There are also
classes in stenography and printing. In the composing-
rooms there are three classes, with room for twelve boys
in each class. The boys are taught to set up and dis-
tribute type, but, unfortunately, we have not yet been able
to afford the expense of a press, and so it has been hard
work to hold the boys' interest, as they could do no actual
printing.
The chief difficulty we have to overcome in order to
make our work a success is, of course, the irregularity
among the boys who attend. To any one who knows
the city this is not discouraging. Public-school hours
are sufficiently long; little or no attention is paid to any
but head-work; consequently when the children come
away they are both crammed and tired. Almost all of
what we are trying to teach could and should be taught
in the public schools, but as it is now, since part of "the
young thing " is too much taught, and the largest part not
taught at all, of course he wants to "let up "as soon as
school is over, and to be sent off again at night seems
very hard treatinent indeed. At least it is hard until his
interest is thoroughly roused, and then he comes in with-
out driving or dragging.
We think, on the whole, that our very modest effort to
increase the interest and widen the education of some of
our young neighbors is succeeding. Attendance last
winter averaged eighty -five per cent, of those on the
books, but this gratifying showing is due to the system of
class associates which we have employed. A number of
gentlemen come down regularly one or more evenings in
the week ; each of them has his own boys to look after.
In case any one is absent the class associate goes there
and then to look him up, and so not only reaches the lad
but impresses upon the parent the importance of the
work.
Our aim in the school is to discover in what direction
the boy's ability may lie; to do something then, however
little, to develop, and so to foster in him the desire to learn
a trade.
Every public school should have some sort of a play-
ground, even if it be small, and though it costs the city
money, it would be money well spent. It is a sin against
life itself to keep young people housed up in ill-ventila-
ted rooms for the best of a day, forbidding them all ex-
ercise of the body but such as can be had in a dark base-
ment. In such a place I have seen the boys standing
toe to a chalk mark in four long rows, their hands at
their sides, and this during the ten minutes called "rec-
reation."
The life of a great city must always be an intense life;
it tends to make us either very good or very bad; oppor-
tunities for evil must abound. We can only arm the
boys against them, as we supply them with opportunities
in the best sense to educate themselves. Make the boy
sound and strong in every part of him, and he resists
almost without knowing it the evil influences that, if
once they enter, give so much pain.
There is a beautiful old story you may have heard be-
fore, of how a very wise man saved himself and his crew
from shipwreck. He and his sailors had been on a long
voyage, had passed through many and unknown seas.
They were tired of rowing the heavy ship along; they
were longing for rest and for land, when one day they
came across a lovely island. Clear water and cool
shades were there, and beautiful creatures reared their
heads out of the water, or lay on the shore and sang
songs that melted the very hearts of the seamen, they
were so sweet. But the leader knew the danger, knew
that to land was certain death, knew the seeming beau-
ties of the island were false beauties to draw to ruin his
sailor folks. He argued and commanded all in vain;
his men would toil no longer; they were determined to
land. In a moment of inspiration lie remembered that
they had a singer of the gods on board, one whose voice
had charmed the very dead; and he asked Orpheus to
sing, and Orpheus sang — sang such a song that the sea-
men heard the faithless sirens 110 more, and they passed
by their island in safety.
It is so with life: we can only overcome evil things
that call to us by giving fullest voice to the best— the
very best — there is within us. Nothing less than that is
education. Let us not only seek to win it for ourselves,
but never cease our efforts until every boy in the city of
New York has at least a chance to win it too.
A GHOSTLY WHALING-GROUND.
THE ship had entered the northeast trade-winds, and
was bowling along at a ten-knot gait under all plain
sail. It was not necessary to start sheets or braces. Day
and night she carried the same canvas, and with the
favoring breeze over her port quarter she slipped down
the bright blue sea towards the equator with the steadi-
ness of a railway train. The changing of the watch was
almost the only excitement aboard. Occasionally it blew
too fresh for the royals, and they had to be clewed up and
furled, but for the most part it was a soldier's march.
Such sailing is pleasant, but it will make the best crew
in the world lazy. " Handsome " and his shipmates felt
its effects, and they lay about the forecastle-deck in the
dog-watches with hardly enough energy to smoke their
pipes. Farmer Joe, however, was a little more restless,
and he speedily grew weary of gazing up at the sky.
" Han 'some," he said, " yeou ain't too tired to talk,
are ye?"
" Seems to me I'm almost too tired to breathe," said
Handsome.
"Waal," continued Farmer Joe, "that's *11 because
ye don't do nawthiu'. Perk up an' git some life into ye
an' tell us some more o' yer whalin' misfits."
Handsome rolled over and grunted a feeble protest
against the proposition, but the other hands backed the
request of Farmer Joe, and Handsome hove a deep sigh
as he saw that he was in for it.
"I'm going to tell you about a curious performance of a
humpback."
"What's a humpback, Han 'some?"
"He is a whale like the rest of them. He has a
great hump on his back, and that's where he gets his
name. The humpback is a runner. As soon as he's
struck he runs to windward like a race-horse. Well, to
get to the point, I'll say that the Captain of the Two
Cousins got discouraged with the luck after a time, and
decided that he'd make a bee-line for a certain bay on the
east coast of Africa, where he'd been told that humpbacks
were in the habit of going to breed. I don't remember
the name of the bay now, but I do remember that it was
a cracking big one, and surrounded by high mountains.
Say. it looked a good deal like the harbor of Rio, except
that it didn't have any islands, and did have a wide en-
trance."
JANUARY 15, 1895
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
199
"I was deown to Rio oncet," said Farmer Joe. " I re-
member that w'en I got there —
"Shut up, Joe!" exclaimed one of the others; "Hand-
some's tell in' a yarn."
Farmer Joe relapsed into contemplative silence, and
Handsome proceeded.
"Our first day of humpback whaling in that bay
opened my eyes to a thing- or two. Say, those ugly-
shaped brutes, as big as a respectable sloop-yacht, would
go dancing around in the water like so many goldfish.
Why, say, you couldn't get anywhere near them. There
were plenty of them too, but we lost our tempers and
tired ourselves out without once getting fast. You can
bet we were glad to turn in when the time came. The
next day, however, we had belter luck. We managed to
corner a big cow whale, and to kill her. Of course she
sank, but it wasn't over ten fathoms deep, so we buoyed
out our harpoon-lines and rowed back to the ship. It
was getting dark, and we decided that we'd have to leave
her there overnight, and go back for her the next morn-
ing. We were just about as tired as we'd been the day
before, and we went to sleep right quick, I tell you. I
reckon the anchor-watch fell asleep too.
"Well," continued Handsome, after a momentary
pause, " it must have been somewhere about six bells in
the mid-watch when I woke up with a jump. Something
had disturbed me, but for some minutes I didn't know
what. Then I gradually became conscious of a dreadful
muffled groaning' and gurgling. It sounded like a man
who had been hurl, and then was drowning. I sat up in
my bunk, and listened witli my ears strained so it almost
hurt me. Say, boys, it was enough to scare a prairie-
wolf out of his senses, it was. For a considerable time I
didn't do anything, it seemed to me, except sit there and
hold my breath and dig my nails into the side of the
bunk. Then all of a sudden the whole forecastle was
filled with one wild unearthly yell. It was the cook, a
colored fellow named Sam — I suppose he had another
name somewhere or other, but that's the only one I ever
heard. Anyhow, he'd been waked up by the same dread-
ful groaning, and had fallen out of his bunk.
" ' De Lawd-a-massey bress us an' save us!' he screech-
ed; 'dere's somebody down under de ship! Ghosts!'
"That brought every man in the forecastle to his feet.
Bacon, our boat-steerer, jumped out of his bunk and
grabbed Sam by the neck.
" ' Ghosts your eye !' says he,; ' who ever heard o' ghosts
under water?'
" ' Oh, jess listen to 'ern, Massa Bacon !' cried poor Sam.
" Say, boys, send I may never see the sunny side of the
Bowery again if that darky didn't turn a kind of a sickly
blue. Well, we did listen, and we all heard the groan-
ings and gurglings.
" One of the men said: ' I'm goiii' up to tell the mate.
It's his watch.'
" He jumped out on deck, and in a second came tum-
bling back at the heels of the mate.
"'What's this monkey game that's going 011 here?'
demanded the mate.
" ' Dey ain't no monkey,' cried the terrified Sam ; 'dey's
ghosts, suah.'
"'Shut up, you chocolate -skinned landlubber,' said
the mate, sternly.
"Then he stood still, and listened to the noises him-
self.
" ' There's somebody down in the forepeak playing
tricks.' he said. ' Bring a lantern, one of you.'
" He started for the forepeak, and I grabbed the swing-
ing lantern off its hook and followed.
" ' Oh, lawdy !' yelled Sam, ' don't go for to leave us in
de dark !'
"That was enough for the other men, and they all
started after us helter-skelter, falling over one another in
their mad anxiety to get out of the gloom of the fore-
castle. I don't believe there was a man of us that wasn't
scared by this time. Well, down we all went into the
forepeak, the mate leading the way, and I following and
holding the lantern high so I could look under it. As we
went down, the groaning became more miserable and
more distinct than ever. It was all mixed up with a sort
of bubbling and choking, just as if a man was a-holding
his face down in the water and trying to cry out. We
could hear it as if it was just outside of the ship.
' ' Come out o' that, whoever you are,' cried the mate.
"We all held our breath and waited for a reply, but
for a moment there wasn't a sound. Then there came
another prolonged groan, the worst we'd heard yet, and
Sam fairly cried, he was so scared, but he didn't dare go
back to the forecastle because it was so dark.
•'I'll find him, 'said the mate, 'and when I do I'll
give him the soundest thrashing he ever had in his life.'
" He began to pull around the stuff in the forepeak and
hunt for the man he expected to see, but of course he didn't
find anybody. He got right forward into the eyes of the
ship, and there the groaning seemed loudest. But not a
sign of any one could he find. He bent down and put
his ear to the planks.
' 'By the great horn spoon!' he yelled, turning pale,
'it's down in the water!'
' ' I knowed it! I kuowed it!' screeched Sam. ' It's de
spook o' some pooah sailah-man wot 's done got drownded
in dis hyar blame bay by one o' dem humpbacker beast-
esses! Oh, le's git out o' dis, er we all be gone 'coons!'
' Will you shut up?' shouted the mate, fetching poor
Sam a back-bander that knocked him clear off his feet.
' This has got to be reported to the Captain.'
"We turned to leave the forepeak, mighty glad to go,
too, I tell you, and the groaning ceased as suddenly as it
had begun. The mate paused and listened for several
minutes. As the weird, unearthly sound did not start
again, he seemed to become very brave.
'You men have been scared half to death about no-
thing,' he said. 'That was only the creaking of a rusty
swivel on the cable. I remember seeing it there myself.
I'll have it taken off in the morning watch, as soon as
there's light enough.'
" ' Dat's berry good, massa,' said Sam, ' but I wish we
don't anchor in dis hyar same spot to-morrow night.'
"Several of the men joined Sam in this appeal; and
the mate, appearing to humor them, said,
" 'I'll speak to the Captain about it, and I guess he'll
not mind anchoring a little further up or down the bay.'
"In spite of his way of putting it, I could see pretty
.well that he was just about as willing as any of us to
anchor somewhere else. He was not in love with groan-
ing that came from the water under the ship and couldn't
be explained. Say, I don't blame him very much."
"No more do I," remarked Farmer Joe, noting that
Handsome had paused a moment. "I remember once
that a man up in —
"Oh, shet up, you !" cried one of the other men, " and
let Handsome go ahead with his yarn. 'Taiii't your time
to talk."
Farmer Joe subsided, and Handsome continued:
" The next day we rowed off to the spot where we'd
buoyed out our sunken cow whale, and started to haul up
the lines to raise her. At the very first pull the lines
came away without any resistance, and we hauled in our
bare harpoons. There wasn't a sign of anything on
them. Maybe we were not disgusted. But one of the
men he mutters:
" ' Might 'a' knowed it. There's a hoodoo on this 'ere
place, that's wot it are— a hoodoo. Whales wot runs
away, an' then sinks when you kill 'em, an' spooks
a-groanin' under the ship in the mid -watch, 'tain't no
reasonable sort o' a place fur human critters to be.'
200
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
•BY THE GREAT IIORN SPOON," HE YELLED, "IT'S DOWN IN THE WATER!'
' There blows !'
found that
admit it. So the whole
ship's company was mus-
tered on deck, and the
Captain came and call-
ed the roll. Every soul
was present. Then the
old man ordered all
hands to stay on deck,
under the mate's eye,
while he took one man
to carry a lantern, and
went below to make an
examination. As luck
would have it, he picked
me. Well, to make the
story shorter, there was
not any part of the hold
that the Captain didn't
search. But all the time
we could hear the groan-
ing and gurgling. It
grew louder and louder
as we went aft, and when
we were right out in the
run of her it sounded
most terrifying. I could
see that the Captain was
getting whiter and
whiter, and when he put
his ear to the planks,
as the mate had done
the night before, and
the noise came from the water outside.
"At that cry of course we forgot all about hoodoos he looked frightened. At that very minute the ship,
and such things, and set off in chase of another hump- lying there at anchor, gave a great thump and a shiver,
back. We didn't get that one, because we never could as if she'd run on a reef, and the groaning stopped,
get near enough to him to heave an iron. He sported
and jumped along about fifty yards ahead of the boat,
and led us a wild-goose chase for about eight miles. At
the end of that time nearly every man of us was clean dered us to get up the anchor and make sail, and you
done up. Fortunately the wind came in off the sea, and maybe sure we were not sorry to obey. I heard him say
gave us a fair breeze to sail back with. Half-way up to to the mate,
But that was enough for the Captain. He bolted
for the deck, followed by me. It was growing quite
light, and there was a little breeze. The Captain or-
the ship we sighted another whale, and this time we had
good luck enough to get an iron into him. In good time,
after cutting him half in two with the lance, we per-
suaded him to die, when plump he went to the bot-
tom.
" ' Say, 'says our boat-steerer, 'ain't this enough to drive
a man to drink?'
" And we all agreed that it was. However, we buoyed
out the brute and rowed back to the ship. That night, in
spite of the fact that we were all dead tired, we couldn't
go to sleep very early. The ship was anchored a good
two miles away from the place where she'd been lying
the night before, yet we were all very nervous. But as
time passed on and nothing happened, one by one we
dropped off to sleep. Well, it was the same old thing
over, only in a little different form. I woke up with a
start, and sitting up in my bunk I heard the same ghostly
groaning and gurgling that I'd heard the night before.
But this time it didn't sound as if it was under the bows.
It came from away aft. The men began to wake up and
peer out of their bunks with pale faces. Not a word was
spoken, until Sam set up a yell:
" 'Oh, de Lawd - a - massey, dar 'tis agin! Dis hyar
niggah's got ter die, suah !'
"The next minute the mate appeared in the forecastle,
and says he:
" 'Turnout here — all hands! The Captain isn't going
to stand this nonsense. Some one's trying the trick on
him to-night.'
' 'I've had enough of this; some bad luck '11 happen
to us here.'
"Just as we were getting under way our boat-steerer
suddenly cried,
' ' ' Look, boys, look !'
"We did look, and there, sure enough, we saw the
Ellen Burgee a-coming up the bay. We told the Cap-
tain it was our ship, and he agreed to back his fore-topsail
yard and put us aboard of her. She came close to and
hailed us. When our old Captain heard we were aboard
he was right glad. He shouted that he'd like to come
aboard and visit the Captain of the Tiro Cousins. He
did so, and the two skippers fell to talking about their
luck. At length our Captain says to the Captain of the
Two Cousins :
' What are you going away fer? This is a good
ground.'
" Then the Captain of the Two Cousins he ups and
tells him all about the groaning and the gurgling. Well,
our old Captain he laughed fit to kill himself.
''Are you going to let that scare you?' says he.
'Why, don't you know what that is? It's the whales
that does it.'
"At first we thought he was crazy. But he persuaded
the Captain of the Two Cousins to stay, and inside of two
days he took us where we saw the whales go down and
right afterward heard the groaning under the boat in
broad daylight. We staid there a month and got
plenty of bone; but I don't think any of us took a real
"Now we knew that was all a big bluff. The mate fancy to humpbacks that could scare a ship's company
knew it wasn't any trick of ours, but he didn't want to half to death."
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
The men of his crew heard him, and gazed in the direc-
tion indicated. They saw a marine on the poop of the
Trajano slowly raise his rifle, take deliberate aim at the
TTP the bay the decks and rigging of the foreign war- Alma's boat, and fire. The sharp crack of his weapon
CHAPTER XXI.
THE SHOT ACROSS THE BOWS.
U ships were crowded with men gazing at the unwonted
spectacle. It must have presented features for especial
consideration to the senior captain of the English fleet,
for he had already refused to do for a British merchant
captain what Admiral Benham was now doing for Cap-
tain Lockwood. As for our two young friends, they were
strung to an intense pitch of excitement, for they fully
believed that they were about to go into action. George,
nervous and active, could not stand still, though he was
far from feeling as much apprehension as Harold. The
latter saw that the Detroit's situation, exposed to the fire
of three ships at once, was highly dangerous. But the
boy was as steady and cool as a veteran, and as he stood
near the breech of the big six-inch rifle, with his hand
lightly resting on the butt of his revolver, Peter Morris,
who was captain of the gun, could not repress many nods
of approval. An involuntary gesture by one of the men
called the attention of all hands forward to the move-
ments of the Alma's crew. The monotonous metallic
clank of her capstan pawl told that her cable was slowly
coming in, and presently the stock of the
anchor appeared parting the lucent wa-
ter under her forefoot. Now a boat
which had been lying under her port bow
started forward. In it were four seamen
and Mr. Ball, the mate. They were en-
gaged in an attempt to run a warp from
the Alma to the vessel ahead of her by
which to haul her in toward the shore.
Mr. Ball stood up in the stern and hailed
the Detroit.
"Are we to understand that you're
here to see us through?"
"That's our intention," replied Com-
mander Brownson. "You go ahead and
take your bark to the wharf."
"That's what we're a-doing," replied
Mr. Ball; "but we're afraid they'll fire
on us."
"I don't think so," said Commander
Brownson, quietly. " But you must risk
that."
Captain Lockwood, standing on the
poop of the Alma, saw Harold, and
waved his hand at the boy, at the same
time calling to his mate, "Go ahead
there, Mr. Ball; the tide '11 be drifting us
off shore in a minute."
"Give way, lads!" exclaimed Mr. Ball.
The four sailors bent their backs to
the oars, and the boat, dragging the line,
began to move slowly ahead.
"Ready with that forward six-pound-
er," said Commander Brownsou, in a
low tone.
"All ready, sir," answered the division
officer, calmly.
The eyes of the captain of the gun
sparkled with excitement as he eagerly
waited for the order to fire. But it was
not Commander Brownson's intention to
become the aggressor.
" Keep steady there, my lad," he said,
quietly.
"Look!" exclaimed Harold, involun-
tarily, yet under his breath.
rang across the water, and Mr. Ball, rising in the boat,
shook his fist at the insurgent war-ship. At the same in-
stant Commander Brownson spoke in a stern, suppressed
voice.
" Let her have it. lad, just abaft the stem, betwixt wind
and water."
Bang!
A great fountain of white smoke spurted from the six-
pounder rapid-fire gun mounted on the starboard rail of
the Detroit, abaft the break of the forecastle. But from
some unaccountable cause the gun captain had misunder-
stood the Commander's plain order, heard by every one
else, and the six-pound shell plunged into the water about
a yard ahead of the Trajano" 8 stem, throwing a shower
of spray over her forecastle. Immediately Commander
Brownson signalled the engine-room to stop the engines.
and as the Detroit drifted ahead, he said,
"Train all guns on the Trajano."
"Left, ha-a-nd-somely," came the low orders of the gun
captains; and the trainers swung the breeches of the guns
THE MAN SENT A BULLET WHISTLING INTO THE " GUAN ABABA'S " STERN-POST.
202
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
slowly to the left till the yawning muzzles pointed directly
at the insurgent ship.
"Steady, hid," said Harold, in a low voice, to Peter,
who was holding a taut lock-string.
"Don't worry, sir," was the reply. "I won't pull till
I gets orders."
" Trajano there!"
Commander Brownson's sharp hail cut the air like a
keen sword.
"Ay, ay," came the sullen response.
"If you fire again," called the Commander, in a clear,
high tone, which must have made every word audible to
Admiral da Gama aboard the Libertade, "I will return
your fire, and if you persist in firing, I will sink you."
There was not a heart aboard the Detroit that did -not
leap with exultant pride as these brave words rang out,
and as for Captain Lockwood, he threw up his cap and
emitted a stentorian cheer. The insurgents appeared to
be completely amazed. For fully a minute not a move-
ment was made aboard the Trajano, though her officers
could be seen in anxious consultation. Finally, at the
expiration of two minutes, she fired a gun from her port
battery, her starboard side being toward the Detroit.
Such an action is interpreted among men-of-war's men to
mean submission. The officers of tiae Detroit smiled con-
temptuously, and the gun captains looked disgusted. The
little gunboat was forging slowly ahead under her own
momentum, and Commander Brownson, again using that
ringing tone which made every word audible to the insur-
gents, hailed the Alma:
"Aboard the bark!"
"Ay, ay, sir!" answered Captain Lockwood. with a
fine emphasis on the "sir."
"Go ahead to your wharf if you wish to."
"And if they fire on me?"
"You go ahead ; I will protect you."
The crew of the Alma cheered, and the four men in the
boat with Mr. Ball carried their warp to the ship ahead.
The Detroit's engines were started again, and she moved
forward with only mere steerageway. She was now
drawing abreast of the Guanabara, and in a moment it
was seen that the crew of this insurgent ship was at
quarters. The eight Armstrong rifles and the machine-
guns had been cast loose, loaded, and trained on the
Detroit.
"Perhaps now we shall get a broadside," murmured
Harold.
"Well, sir," whispered Peter, "we mustn't keep wot
isn't ourn, and so I reckon we'll give it back."
"Train on the Guanabara," said Mr. Crane.
The muzzles of the Detroit's guns swung slowly as to
bear on the vessel.
" Guanabara there!"
It was Commander Brownson's voice once more.
" Tell your men to handle their lock-strings very care-
full}'. See that no shots are fired by accident, for I am
not going to regard any as accidental."
No answer was made to these words, and the Detroit
passed on.
"Port," said Commander Brownson. to the man at the
wheel.
The helm was put over, and the gunboat turned across
the Guanabara's stern. Her engines were stopped and
reversed, and the vessel lay motionless in a position to
rake both the Guanabara and the Trajano with her star-
board battery. But the movement of the tide made it im-
possible for the gunboat to maintain this position with the
limited space she had to work in, so Commander Brown-
son gave orders to get a buoy - rope on the starboard
chain and make ready for letting go the anchor. Harold
jumped to help to superintend this work, which belonged,
of course, to the forecastle. .A few minutes later the
Detroit came to anchor with all ready for slipping her
cable and getting under way at an instant's notice. Per-
haps no one was more surprised at the cool audacity of
this manoeuvre than Admiral Louis Phillipe Saldanhada
Gama.
CHAPTER XXII.
A SLAP IN THE FACE.
As the Detroit lay there Harold noticed that several
small armed vessels under the command of the insurgent
Admiral had drawn near, and were hovering within
range of the Detroit. He decided that the trouble was
not yet at an end. And he was right. The Alma was
still busily engaged in warping in, when a loud report
broke upon the air. All hands upon the Detroit started
as they saw a cloud of white smoke rising from the
Guanabara's side, and realized that she had fired one of
her broadside guns across the Alma's deck. Commander
Brownson's brow was black as night as he sternly said,
"Stand by your guns, lads."
Then he spoke a few low and rapid words to a ma-
rine who was standing near him. The man raised his
rifle, and taking deliberate aim, sent a bullet whistling
into the Guanabara's stern-post. Such an action was
like a contemptuous slap in the face, but it contained a
threat that the deadly broadside might follow. The
Guanabara received the shot in silence. Commander
Brownson watched the insurgent ship quietly for a min-
ute, and then gave orders to lower away a boat. While
the. execution of this order was in progress, the Com-
mander's eyes slowly roamed over the forms of the half-
dozen naval cadets who stood at their posts on the deck.
His gaze finally rested with an expression of satisfaction
on Harold.
"Mr. King," he called, "come up here."
" Ay, ay, sir," replied Harold, starting with surprise.
"You will go in the boat to the Libertade," said the
Captain. "Present my compliments to Admiral da
Gama, and deliver to him this message."
Commander Brownson now spoke rapidly to Harold,
whose attitude was one of intense attention. When he
had received his orders, the boy saluted and hurried away
to the boat, an object of envy to every other cadet aboard
the ship. He urged the boat's crew to lively pulling,
and was soon alongside the insurgent flag-ship, which
was not over two hundred yards away. He found Ad-
miral da Gama on the bridge, surrounded by his staff.
The boy saluted respectfully, and said,
"I have the honor to bear a message from Command-
er Brownson, commanding the United States steamer
Detroit."
He paused a moment, but no one replied. They stood
and glared at him with their sparkling dark eyes. But,
as we have already seen, Harold King was a lad of cool
and steady nerve.
"Commander Brownson presents his compliments to
Admiral da Gama," continued Harold, in a clear firm
voice, "and says that while he is not desirous of taking
any active steps, he lias his instructions from the Ad-
miral commanding the United States fleet to protect
American ships in going to wharves. He desires to say
to you that he will carry out those instructions by reply-
ing to any shots your vessels may fire, and should you
persist in firing he will open upon your ships with the
Detroit's entire battery."
Admiral da Gama's face was pale and his lips twitched,
but he answered, steadily: " You will present my compli-
ments to Commander Brownson, sir, and say to him that
should he fire on my ships I shall at once lower my
colors and request Admiral Benham to take command of
my fleet. The gun fired to leeward by the Trajano was
a gun of protest, not a challenge."
Harold had some difficulty in concealing- his surprise
at this remarkable message, but he contrived to preserve
JANUARY 15, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUJNG PEOPLE.
203
the composure of his countenance, saluted, and returned
to his boat. "Give way with a will, lads," he said to
his crew.
The rhythmic click of the oars and the washing of the
ripples were the only sounds that were audible. A
great silence of suspense seemed to hang over the har-
bor. The brave little Detroit, defiantly anchored un-
der the guns of the Trajano, Guanabara, Libertade,
and the smaller vessels, made an inspiring foreground
to a naval picture whose distance was finely filled
by the imposing hulls of the Aqnidaban and the Neiv
York. The Detroit's boat was watched by every eye
in both fleets. Had a single treacherous shot been fired
at her from a Brazilian craft a terrible and deadly
storm of iron would have followed. Harold sat bolt-
upright in the stern-sheets, and did not deign to cast a
glance at the rebel ships. He mounted swiftly to theZ>e-
troit's bridge, as soon as he reached her side, and repeat-
ed to Commander Brownson the words of Admiral da
Gama. The veteran's lip curled with contempt as he
said :
" You will return at once, sir, to the flag-ship of the in-
surgent fleet. Present my compliments once more to
Admiral da Gama, and tell him that I have already fired
on and struck his ships."
Some of the officers on the Detroit's bridge turned
away to hide the smiles which this message caused. The
insurgent Admiral must indeed have been blind if he did
not see from his own deck the treatment of the Guana-
bara. Harold quickly returned to his boat, and once
more shot away toward the Libertade. Again he mount-
ed her bridge, and repeated his Captain's words to the
Admiral.
" Sir," said Da Gama, "you will say to your command-
ing officer that I have already called a conference of my
captains, and my advice to them will be to surrender at
once to Admiral Ben ham, and request him to carry on all
negotiations with the Brazilian government in regard to
our future treatment."
It is hardly necessary to say that when this proposi-
tion was subsequently conveyed to Admiral Benham he
smiled at it. He had no desire to saddle himself with
the settlement of Brazil's family troubles. His mission
was to protect American interests and to stop at that.
For the present, however, the message of Admiral da
Gama went no further than the Detroit, where it was
correctly repeated to Commander Brownson by Harold.
The Commander smiled, and said to his executive officer:
"Well, Mr. Crane, I am afraid we shall not have any
battery practice here."
Then he turned, and with a kindly nod said to Harold,
"Have the boat hoisted, and return to your station, sir."
Harold hastened away to obey, and as he left the foot
of. the ladder leading to the bridge he passed close to
George.
" Lucky boy!" said George, in a low tone. "You were
right in it."
Harold returned to his post, where Peter was waiting
for him.
"Wot did I tell ye, sir?" said the cockswain. "We
kicks an' they squeals. They're reg'lar slobs."
"What's the Alma doing?"
"She's a-gettin' nearer to the wharf."
"Hello! Here come those tugs again."
The two insurgent tugs steamed down close to the
Alma.
" Keep a sharp eye on those fellows," said Commander
Brownson.
One of the tugs steamed around the Alma. Suddenly
a dishevelled figure burst out of the cabin of the little
steamer and sprang upon the rail as if about to jump into
the water. A shout arose on the tug, and half a dozen
armed men rushed forward and seized the young man,
but not before he had uttered one wild cry that flew far
across the waters :
"Father!"
Captain Lockwood, standing near the knightheads of
his bark, heard the sound, and started as if he had been
struck by a shot.
"That was Bob's voice!" he cried. "Bob, my boy,
where are you?"
An inarticulate and muffled cry was the only answer.
Robert Lockwood, for it was indeed he, had been forced
back into his temporary prison aboard the tug, and Cap-
tain Lockwood began to believe lie must have been the
victim of a delusion. But Harold King had seen every-
thing from the Detroit's forecastle-deck.
" It's the Captain's son, "lie said, "and the rebels have
got him again."
" W'ich the same," said Peter, very sagely, "we knows
w'ere he are; an' if you an' Mister Briscomb an' me ain't
able fur to git him away, then them Dagos is werry much
smarter than their ships."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
A SIMPLE ELECTRICAL MACHINE.
BY GEORGE ASHDOWN ATJDSLEY.
IN this age of electricity, while we hear everywhere
around us the hum of powerful dynamos and electric
motors, which we are familiar with in electric railways,
telegraphs, telephones, and electric lighting, nothing
connected with electricity can well be without interest to
intelligent boys and girls. One of the simplest and most
amusing electrical apparatus is the so-called " frictional
electric machine."
The most important part of the machine is the glass
cylinder, and this can best be furnished in our little ma-
chine in the form of a glass bottle, the shape and dimen-
sions of which are given at A, in Fig. 1. This bottle can
be procured at any drug -store. Select as smooth and
perfect a bottle as possible, empty the water from it, wash
the labels off, and set it in a warm place to drain and be-
come perfectly dry internally. To expedite the drying-
process the bottle maybe rinsed with pure alcohol; this
will evaporate quickly, carrying all moisture with it.
This cylinder has to be so mounted as to revolve between
two upright supports; and for this purpose an end piece
of some very dry hard-wood has to be turned, in the form
shown at B, Fig. 1. The face of this end piece must be
sunk to about the depth of a quarter of an inch, so as to-
receive the bottom of the bottle tightly. The outer por-
tion of the end piece is to be turned in the form shown, to
serve as one of the pivots of the cylinder and for the at-
tachment of the handle. The pivot piece should be 1 inch
long by 1 inch in diameter; and the piece on which the
handle is to be placed should be 1 inch long by f inch in
diameter.
At this stage of the work a sealing-wax varnish should
be prepared by putting some fine red sealing-wax (crushed
into small pieces) into a bottle, and pouring over it some
strongest alcohol. Place the bottle, lightly corked, in a
warm place, and shake it occasionally, until the wax has
dissolved and formed a thick red varnish. Keep this
tightly corked for use.
Paint the sunken portion of the wooden end piece with
three or four coats of the sealing-wax varnish, allowing
each coat to become thoroughly dry before the next one
is applied. The end piece is now ready to be fixed to the
bottom of the bottle, in the position shown in Fig. 2
do this in an easy and satisfactory manner proceed as
follows:
Arrange on the kitchen floor boxes, or any convenient
heavy objects, so as to support the bottle securely in a
vertical and inverted position. The bottom of the bottle
204
HAKPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
must stand an inch or two above the level of the boxes
or supports, so as to be easily manipulated. When this
has been arranged remove the bottle, and wash the bottom
well with hot water and soda, so as to remove any trace
of grease; then place it on some support opposite the
kitchen fire, with its bottom directed toward the stove.
It must not be placed too near at first, but it should be
gradually advanced until it is close enough to become
hot. While this process is being conducted melt a few
ounces of common sealing-wax in a tin cup (provided
•with a handle) by setting it on the hot plate of the stove.
Now place the wooden end piece with its sunken and var-
nished face near the fire to be warmed; and, with your
hands protected by thick gloves and cloths, remove the
heated bottle, and carefully drop it into the place provided
for its support. Immediately this is done pour the melted
sealing-wax from the tin cup on the centre of the bottom
of the bottle, until its hollow portion is filled, and the
body of wax stands a little above the level of the flat
margin of the bottom. Then, without delaying an in-
stant, seize the wooden end piece and press it down firmly
• on the bottom of the bottle, using as much pressure as
you can exert. If all this is done properly a perfect
junction will be made. After a few minutes lift the
bottle and place it a short distance from the fire, so that
it may cool slowly, and allow the contraction of the
different materials to take place gradually.
The cylinder has now to be mounted in the following
manner: Dress and square a board of pine 12 inches
wide by the exact length measured from the cylinder, as
indicated from C to D in Fig. 2, and f inch thick. Glue
and nail to the under side of the ends bars of pine 2
inches wide by 1 inch thick, as shown at E E in Fig. 3.
Cut from a dressed pine board f inch thick two stand-
ards of the form and dimensions shown at F F in Fig. 3
and the other drawings. Cut the upper ends of these
standards to fit the neck and wood pivot of the cylinder,
so that it may revolve easily, and insert wire pins to keep
the cylinder in its place, as indicated at G G. Screw the
standards F F securely to the ends of the board or stand
of the machine directly opposite each other. Furnish
the cylinder with a handle of the form and size shown
at H in Fig. 2, and place the cylinder in position on the
standards, lubricating the neck and wood pivot with
powdered black-lead.
The remaining portions of the machine consist of the
cushion or rubber and the collector or conductor. To
make the rubber, take a piece of wood 5-j inches long, if
inches wide, and -J inch thick, and tack along its two
edges a piece of thin woollen cloth 8 inches long by 4
DIAGRAMS FOR THE ELECTRIC MACHINE.
inches wide, so as to form a cushion when tightly padded
with soft hair or wool. WThen so padded, neatly fold
the ends, and tack the same to the wood. Cover the
cushion with a piece of clean chamois leather, stretching
it tightly, and tacking it to the edges of the wood backing
in the same manner as above directed for the under cov-
ering. The finished cushion will appear as shown at J
in Fig. 4. This portion of the machine is completed by
attaching to its back by small screws a support of wood
8 inches long, 2 inches wide, and f inch thick, shown at
K. Fix this support to the stand of the machine by a
2-inch brass hinge, L, so that when it stands vertical the
cushion will rest against the flat surface of the cylinder,
as indicated in the end view of the complete machine.
To press the cushion with the required force against the
cylinder to generate the electricity use strong India-rub-
ber bands, passed through two holes bored in the centre
of the support (as indicated in Fig. 4), and held by hooks
screwed into the centre of the stand.
The collector can be readily made from a piece of
round curtain - pole, about 1J inches in diameter and 8
inches in length. Take this, and round each end with a
knife and file until they are like half-balls, a& shown
at M, Fig. 5. Bore a f-inch hole in the centre nearly
through the wood for the reception of the glass rod or
tube, N. Now paste tin-foil carefully all over the surface
of the wood, and rub it down until perfectly smooth.
Cut about eighteen pieces of thin iron wire, 1-J inches
long, and drive them into holes, previously made with a
bradawl, in a row along one side of the collection, as at
O, Fig. 5. Cut or file these projecting wires to exactly
one length (about 1 inch from the wood), and file their
ends to a sharp point to enable them to collect the elec-
tricity easily. The collector is completed by driving into
one end of it a stout wire carrying a small brass ball at
its end, P, Fig. 5. A lead ball or a ball of wood covered
with tin-foil will answer, but proper brass balls and wires
can be obtained at any instrument store. The stand for
the support of the collector may be made of two pieces
of wood, arranged as shown at Q, Fig. 5, the lower
piece to have two long cuts made in it, to allow it to
slide backward and forward on round-headed screws
driven into the stand of the machine, as indicated. This
arrangement permits of the proper adjustment of the col-
lecting wires to the surface of the cylinder. Fix one end
of a glass rod or tube, f-inch diameter, into a hole in the
support Q, and place the collector on the upper end, as
shown at N, Fig. 5. The glass rod should be of sufficient
length to allow the collecting wires to be 1\ inches above
the stand of the machine, as indicated in the end view.
The machine is completed by tacking to
the upper edge of the rubber, J, end view,
a piece of old dress silk; this must extend
FlG.2 all along the rubber, and be sufficiently
long to fall over the cylinder to within 4
-—-. inch of the collecting points of the con-
•' ductor on the other side. If the silk is
thin, two plies may be used with advan-
tage. The surface of the cushion which bears
against the cylinder must now be smeared with
some prepared amalgam. This amalgam can be
obtained at an instrument store, or made by melt-
ing a little tin in an iron spoon and adding some
mercury to it. When cold, the amalgam can be
crushed to a powder, and then mixed with lard
into a thick paste. This is fit for use, and should
be evenly and thinlj' spread on the cushion with
a knife blade.
To get the machine into working order,
thoroughly dry and warm the cylinder by turn-
ing it before the fire or radiator. The elec-
trical machine is now complete and in working
order.
JANUARY lb, 1895.
HAKPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
205
THE LITTLE RED BOOK.
ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND.
CHAPTER VII.
VS Bertha Weld
watched Mrs. Rogers
drive away with the doc-
tor she was almost beside
herself with grief and
terror. Mrs. Rogers had
said that she would hold
her responsible if Elea-
nor died. That meant
that she, Bertha, would
have murdered her. Ber-
tha shuddered. When
she had glibly repeated
the sixth commandment
in Sunday-school, or had
heard it read in church,
she had never supposed
that it would have any
connection with her, Ber-
tha Weld !
Could Mrs. Rogers
really have meant what
she said? She certainly
looked as if she did. Ber-
tha brooded over her
words, and the longer she
thought the more desper-
ate she became.
She sat for hours at the
front window, leaning
her elbow on the broad
sill and her head on her
hand, staring out into the
street and seeing nothing.
It was a dreary-looking
little figure, and kind-
hearted Katy,coming into
the room, was touched
when she saw it.
"La, now, Miss Ber-
tha, why don't you go
out and see your friends a bit?" she asked.
" I haven't any, Katy," returned Bertha, sadly,
body likes me any more."
"Land salves, don't say that, Miss Bertha, you
knows everybody! Go out and take a little walk; it '11
do you good. Go now!"
Thus urged, Bertha rose, and putting on her hat,
walked slowly down to the gate. Just as she reached
there Ruth Barnes passed by. Ever since the theatricals
and the affair of the wig Ruth had been very distant in
her manner to Bertha, and now that it was known that
her idle chatter had caused Eleanor's illness, she felt
more than ever inclined to show her complete disapproval
of what Bertha had done.
But, like Katy, Ruth was kind-hearted; and, like her,
she was touched with the girl's appearance. Bertha's
face was pale, and her eyes were red with weeping, and
there was such a desolate look in her whole air that al-
though Ruth had passed her by with a cold bow, she
turned and came back.
" Bertha, child, how badly you look !" she said, kindly.
" I am afraid you are troubled about something. Can 1
help you?"
Bertha looked at her for a moment without speaking.
Could it be Ruth Barnes, whom she secretly admired so
much, and whom she knew she had offended so deeply,
AND yOU KNOW, DON'T YOU ? . . . 'MRS. BRBWSTER KNOWS.'"
No-
that
who was now saying these kind words to her in such a
friendly way? Her eyes filled with tears. She could not
command her voice.
"What is it, Bertha?"
" Oh, th — thank you so much for speaking to me!" she
faltered, gratefully, and then turning, she ran into the
house.
Ruth hesitated a moment, and then followed her. She
found Bertha with her head buried in a sofa pillow, sob-
bing as if her heart would break.
" Poor child !" said Ruth, taking her hand. " I am so
sorry for you, dear. It is about Eleanor, isn't it?"
For answer Bertha squeezed her hand and sobbed harder
than ever. "She — she won't get well, and — and — if she
dies, Mrs. Rogers says it will be all my fault!"
" Have you seen Mrs. Rogers, dear?"
"Yes; she was here this morning, and. oh. it was so
dreadful! She was very angry, and says I have killed
Eleanor. And none of it was true in the diary. It wasn't
true, and Eleanor is not an orphan; but it was in the
diary, and I thought it was true. Oh, I am so sorry and
so, so miserable!"
"Bertha dear, I am so sorry for you. I don't under-
stand all you say about a diary, but I see that somehow
you made a mistake. Of course it was natural for Mrs.
Rogers to be angry, and she is so worried now about
206
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
Eleanor; for, do you know, Bertha, she can't go into Elea-
nor's room, it excites her so to see her mother, because she
thinks she is not really her own mother; so it is all very
dreadful. But perhaps she will get well, so you must not
despair yet."
"Oh, how good you are to me!" said Bertha. "I
thought nobody cared for me in the world, least of all
you, because I was so hateful to Eleanor. And I don't
know why I was. It' was just because she was friends
with Madge, and sometimes they would be nice to me,
and then for no reason they would get mad, and it made
me so angry. But that's no excuse. I have been a
wicked, wicked girl ! But, Ruth, that isn't all."
"What else. Bertha?"
"It's papa."
" Your father? What do you mean, child?"
"He — he will hear that I've been the cause of Elea-
nor's illness, and I don't know what I shall do. He will
be so angry with me. He won't scold and he won't pun-
ish me, but he will be so — so quiet, and he'll look so
grave and stern. Oh dear, how can I stand it?"
Ruth was silent for a few minutes. Presently she
said, " Bertha, I think you had better tell him all about
it."
"Oh. Ruth, I can't!" cried the girl, starting violently.
"You don't know what papa is!"
"I can imagine from what you say. And I advise
you, Bertha, to tell him yourself. From what I know of
your father I should judge him to be a very reserved
man, very quiet and self-contained."
"That is it," said Bertha; "and so sad. My aunt says
he has never gotten over my mother's death, though she
died when I was a baby, and I am fourteen."
"He is reserved with you, and you are shy with him;
but don't you think that you are old enough now, Ber-
tha, to make some advances to him? You are fourteen,
and in a very few years you .will be a grown woman.
You can make your father's home life a great deal hap-
pier if you choose. And the best way to begin is to
throw yourself .upon him, as it were. If you tell him all
about your troubles, and ask him to help you, I am quite
sure he will be so sorry for you that he will do it, where-
as if he hears from outsiders what you have done he may
feel differently."
"I know," said Bertha, shuddering. " But it \vill be
very hard to do it."
" Bertha, you have done a good many wrong things in
the last few weeks, and I think it was partly because you
had no one to give you advice or to warn you. Now I
am giving you advice," and Ruth laughed a little, "and
I sha'n't like it at all if you don't follow it. You tell
your father all about it when he comes home to-night.
And we will hope that Eleanor will get well, and that
you will have a chance to tell her yourself how sorry
you are." And kissing her affectionately, Ruth rose
to go.
"Oh, I am so thankful to you!" cried Bertha, throw-
ing her arms about her. " I really thought I hadn't a
single friend in the world except Katy. And I love
you so much I will do as you say, and tell papa myself.
Good-by, dear, dear Ruth ! Thank you so much for com-
ing in."
Ruth left the house, and turning to the left, walked
along Deane Street, intending to go to Mrs. Rogers's to
inquire for Eleanor. But as she did so a bold idea en-
tered her mind, and she stopped short, overcome with
the audacity of the thought.
If she could only see Mr. Weld and ask him to be
gentle with his daughter! She knew that much depend-
ed upon the way in which he should receive Bertha's
confession. He had the reputation of being rather pe-
culiar, but perhaps it was because nobody knew him
well. If she could only meet him, she believed she
would ask him to be very careful in regard to Bertha,
to be very kind to her.
And yet what right had she, a mere outsider and an
absolute stranger to Mr. Weld, to interfere between fa-
ther and daughter?
But while she thought this over she found herself
turning almost unconsciously towards the village and
the station. The afternoon express was in, which was
the train upon which most of the business men came
back to Durham from the city.
If she could only happen to meet Mr. Weld!
And looking up, she saw Mr. Weld coming toward her.
He was a tall slight man, with dark hair and beard
slightly tinged with gray. He walked hurriedly and
with a slight stoop, and his face bore an expression of
habitual sadness.
He was startled by hearing his own name.
"Mr. Weld!" said Ruth Barnes, standing in front of
him.
Mr. Weld raised his hat courteously and waited for
her to continue. This Ruth found to be very difficult.
"Mr. Weld," she repeated, "I — I am afraid you will
think me very interfering, and you must forgive me if
I am doing wrong. Bertha, your daughter, is in great
distress." Mr. Weld's face darkened. " You have heard
probably?"
He bowed in answer.
" Please don't judge her too harshly. She is very re-
pentant, and — and — she has had no one who could tell
her. I am so sorry for her. She is going to tell you
about it herself. Perhaps I have done wrong to speak.
I could not help it, I am so sorry for her."
"You are right, Miss Barnes," said he, sadly. "She
is much to be pitied."
"And you do not mind my speaking?"
"On the contrary, I thank you for it."
" Thank you for saying so! But please don't tell Ber-
tha you have seen me."
And then Ruth hurried on, and Mr. Weld went home.
That evening, after dinner, Bertha and her father had
a long talk. She told him all the incidents of the past
few weeks, sparing herself in no way, and his heart
ached for his poor little 'motherless girl when he saw how
bitterly she repented of what she had done.
And Bertha, with her head on her father's shoulder,
felt comforted by his sympathy and kind words. It was
so . unlooked-for, so amazing. Was it really her silent
father who held her so tenderly?
And a great love sprang up in her heart for him, and
she resolved that henceforth she would do what she
could to make his home life less sad.
But suppose Eleanor were to die? The old fear came
back with overwhelming force, and she shuddered.
"Papa, could we send to see how she is now?" she
whispered.
"I will go myself," said Mr. Weld. "Get your hat,
and come with me."
And for the first time in her life that she could re-
member Bertha and her father walked out together.
The news was not encouraging.
"She is no better," said old Catherine, at the door.
And then they went sadly back to their own home to
wait until the morning.
It was about nine o'clock in the evening. Eleanor
was lying quietly for the moment, only half conscious.
Her eyes had a dull look in them, and the flush of fever
was on her face. Every now and then she would mur-
mur the old words, " She is not my mother!"
The nurse, in her white cap and apron, sat near the
table, upon which stood a lamp with a green shade and
one or two medicine-bottles. The door into the next
room was partly open, and in there sat Mrs. Rogers, tak-
JANUARY 15, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
207
ing care that Eleanor should not see her. She was lis-
tening intently. Presently a carriage stopped at the
door, and rising quickly, she stole from the room.
The front door was noiselessly opened and closed, and
Dr. and Mrs. Brewster came through the hall. Mrs.
Brewster put her arms about her friend and held her
tight. "You poor child!" she whispered. " Henry has
told me all about it on my way up from the station, and
I know just what I am to do. He has gone now to see
how Eleanor is, and if it is all right I am to go in and
put the child's mind at rest."
" But it will excite her too much," said Mrs. Rogers, in
alarm ; " she must not be excited !"
"You may trust me, dear," returned her friend.
And, indeed, Mrs. Brewster, with her quiet manner and
her loving glance, was a woman to inspire trust.
Dr. Brewster came half-way down the stairs, and beck-
oned to his wife to come up. She hastily laid aside her
hat and cloak, and silently kissing Mrs. Rogers once more,
went quickly up the stairs and into Eleanor's room.
Mrs. Rogers went into the adjoining one, and in breath-
less silence sat awaiting the result.
Eleanor was sleeping fitfully. Occasionally she awoke
and muttered something, then dozed again. Presently
she opened her eyes and fixed them upon Mrs. Brewster.
" Why are you here?" she asked.
"I have come to take care of you," replied Mrs. Brew-
ster.
"I have a nurse," said the child. "I have a nurse,
but no mother. Did you know I had no mother?"
"No, dear, you are mistaken. You have a mo-
ther."
"I tell you I haven't!" cried Eleanor, growing excited.
" She is not my mother, and Mrs. Brewster said so! Why
— why, you are Mrs. Brewster, and you said so."
" Eleanor, try to listen quietly while I tell you some-
thing. I never said that Mrs. Rogers was not your mo-
ther. I said it about somebody else — some one whom
you don't know. Her name begins with R, just like
yours, but the name is Reed, and the daughter's name is
Emma. Do you understand, dear? It was Emma Reed,
not Eleanor Rogers."
Eleanor lay looking at her.
"Are you Mrs. Brewster?"
" Yes, dear."
" And you know, don't you? Those were the words:
' Mrs. Brewster knows.' "
"Yes, dear, Mrs. Brewster knows."
" Then, Mrs. Brewster, say it again," exclaimed Elea-
nor, sitting up in bed with feverish strength.
"If I say it, will you promise to be very quiet after-
wards, and take your medicine and try to go to sleep?"
"Yes! Yes!"
"Eleanor, your mamma is your own dear mother, and
you are her own dear child. And I am Mrs. Brewster,
and I know."
A happy light came into Eleanor's eyes. The nurse
was ready with a soothing medicine, and when she had
swallowed it she sank back oil the pillow. Presently
she was asleep.
" If she can sleep naturally for a few hours and awake
in her right mind, she is all right," said Dr. Brewster, as
he left to visit another very ill patient. " Let her mother
sit by her and be the only one whom she sees when she
opens her eyes."
And so they sat for hour after hour while Eleanor
slept on. And during the still moments just before the
dawn of day they thought that her spirit was slipping
away from them, so faint, almost imperceptible, her
breathing grew. But after a time it strengthened again,
and at five o'clock, when she opened her eyes, they rested
in happy consciousness upon the face of her beloved
mother. Eleanor's life was saved.
Ten days later, and Eleanor was convalescing rapidly.
Her naturally 'strong constitution served her in good
stead, and she was rapidly regaining strength.
Madge had been to see her several times, and this after-
noon they were sitting together on the piazza. Eleanor's
face was thin, but there was a faint color in her cheeks,
and her brown eyes looked bright and clear.
The air was filled with the odor of fruit blossoms, and
the little birds hopped gayly abput, chirping cheerfully.
"Have you seen Bertha?" asked Eleanor, presently.
" Only at school, and I don't have anything to do with
her. I never shall again."
" Oh, Madge, don't say that; I'm sorry for Bertha."
" Ruth says she is very much to be pitied, and that I
ought to be nice to her, but I am not going to be. She
nearly killed you, and I can't forgive her."
"Mamma felt that way at first, but she doesn't now.
I have made her see it the way I do; and Madge, I
want you to, too. Ruth told me how badly Bertha feels,
and I think we ought to make allowances for her. You
know, we have often been very disagreeable, Madge,
dropping her and taking her up the way we did. There
was some excuse for her. And then the diary—" and
Eleanor stopped suddenly.
"I know what you were going to say," cried Madge.
"You were going to say that I was just as bad about
the diary, and so I was. But I didn't tell it, Nell."
"No, you didn't tell it, but then you were fond of me,
and Bertha wasn't. But that is all over, the reading of
the diary, and I want to say something. You know, I've
been very ill, Madge, and they thought I was going to
die. I didn't die, and I have the feeling that my life was
given back to me to do some good with it. I want to do
every bit of good I can. And I feel as if I ought to be-
gin with Bertha. I told mamma, and though she felt
terribly angry with Bertha, she agreed with me at last.
And now, Madge dear, will you do me a favor?"
" Anything you like, Nell."
" Well, g-o down to Bertha's house as fast as you can,
and bring her up here. Tell her I want her. Will you ?"
Madge looked at her friend for a moment. Then she
threw her arms about her. "Nell, how good you are!
Of course I will."
And in a moment she was flying down the hill, her
curls bobbing and shaking as she ran.
She found Bertha easily. She was always at home now.
"Come, Bertha!" she cried, bursting into the room.
" Come, Eleanor wants you right away!"
" Eleanor!" exclaimed Bertha.
"Yes, quick! And I'm awfully sorry I've been cool
to you. I was mad as hops at you, but I was just as bad
myself about the diary. Come along!"
And away they both ran up the hill, arriving at
Eleanor's side almost too much out of breath to speak.
"Oh, Bertha, I'm so glad to see you," said Eleanor,
drawing her down and kissing her. " I've wanted to see
you very much."
" Eleanor, do you forgive me?" asked Bertha.
"Of course, Bertha. You didn't know it was going to
make so much trouble, and of course it was natural for
you to suppose that ' Mrs. R.' and ' E.' meant Mrs. Rogers
and Eleanor; but don't say anything more about that.
It is too dreadful to think of."
"But does your mother forgive me?" asked Bertha.
" I do, my dear child," said Mrs. Rogers, coming out
of the house in time to hear the last words. "Thanks
to my little daughter, I do." And she kissed Bertha.
"Oh, I am so happy!" said Bertha, her eyes full of
tears. "Papa loves me now, and you have forgiven me.
It is a great deal more than I deserve. Eleanor, whether
you care for me or not, I shall love you all my life."
And she did.
208
HAEPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
'I LOOKED ABOUT, AND FAR AWAY I SAW A LITTLE SPECK.'
THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF TOMMY
TODDLES.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTEU V.
110MMY could riot think of anything to say, but the ex-Pirate
soou broke the silence himself by remarking,
" / wrote it."
"Oil yes!" exclaimed Tommy, seizing the opportunity to say
something nice at last. " The poetry was very nice. It sounded
like some of the funny things Uncle Dick learned at college.
But you said you would recite something about pirates too."
" I will," answered the ex-Pirate with alacrity, and he climbed
up on top of the table again. "I'll read yon a selection from
my autobiography. I was just writing it as you came," and he
pulled a large roll of manuscript out of his inner pocket. " This
is Chapter XVII. If you prefer, I will go and get the preceding
sixteen chapters, the introduction, and the preface, and read
them to you too."
" Oh no," interposed the Sheep. " Chapter XVII. will do. We
have not time to hear any more."
"Very well," replied the ex-Pirate, clearing his throat; "I
will only read Chapter XVII.:
'The following day the sun rose up as usual from the East,
The sea was calm, the sky was clear, the stormy winds had ceased ;
The Black Avenger sped along before a gentle breeze,
And the starboard watch loafed on the deck in true piratic ease — '
What is it?" asked the ex-Pirate, interrupting his lei-tuie
and turning toward Tommy, who looked as if he wanted to ask
a question.
" I was wondering what the Black Avenger was," said the little
boy.
"I supposed so," replied the poet, reproachfully — "I sup-
posed so. The Black Avenger was the name of my pirate ship,
and if you had let me read the first sixteen chapters of the au-
tobiography you would have known all about the ship by this
time. 1 think I had better go and get the other chapters," and
he started to step down from the table.
"Oh no," put in the Sheep. "We know what the Ulaci'
Ari'iifii'i- is now. It's your ship."
" Yes,'' said the ex-Pirate, dramatically ; "she was a low trim
craft, with tall rakish masts — '
"Just like all pirate ships," interrupted the .sheep.
•• Not a bit of it!" shouted the ex-Pirate, vehe-
mently. " She was nut like any other ship afloat,
yon mutton-head."
"Don't you call me a mutton-head!" retorted
the Sheep, hotly, rising from his seat on the bench.
" You may think that because —
" But — " began the ex-Pirate.
" — because you are up there on that table —
"But — " began the ex-Pirate again.
" Oh, don't tell him to butt !" said Tommy, who
was beginning to fear that there was going to be
a tight.
" I didn't," said the ex-Pirate, turning to the
little boy.
"Well, both of you stop quarrelling," contin-
ued Tommy, asserting himself. " I think it's very
rude of each one of you."
The ex-Pirate looked at the little boy as though
he did not qnite understand, and the Sheep moved
off to the far end of the bench and began to sulk.
Tummy was surprised to see this, for, until then,
he had entertained a very favorable opinion of
his new friend. He was surprised to see the Sheep
sulk, because it was something be never did him-
self, as he had been told that it. was unmanly.
" Perhaps it is not unsheeply," thought Tommy,
who was willing to make every excuse possible
for the Sheep.
"Shall I go on?" said the ex-Pirate to Tommy,
as he glanced at the Sheep.
" Certainly, "replied the little boy; " he is very
ill-behaved. He ought to be ashamed of him-
self."
"I guess he is," remarked the ex-Pirate; "he
certainly looks sheepish;" and although this did
not, strike Tommy as being odd at the time, he
wondered afterwards how a sheep could look
otherwise.
The little man on the table looked over his manuscript, and,
having found the place where he left off, read again :
"'I took my breakfast down below, and when I came on deck
I looked about, and far away I saw a little speck
Upon the blue horizon, and I knew it was a — '
I guess I'll have to stop here," said the ex-Pirate, suddenly,
putting his papers into his pocket and looking around uneasily.
"Why, what's the matter I" asked Tommy, noticing the ex-
Pirate's evident nervousness. The Sheep too had straightened
up and was looking about.
" Don't you smell anything?'' asked the ex-Pirate.
"No; what is it?" inquired Tommy, sniffing and looking
about like the rest of them. But before the ex-Pirate could an-
swer, the little boy heard a sort of shuffling noise coming from
the direction of the woods, and presently he saw a most peculiar-
looking animal, such as he had never seen or heard of before,
waddle out into the open grassy space in front of the Poor
House. The strange beast seemed to be about the size of a hip-
popotamus, yet he resembled a rabbit. And he was yellow. As
he came nearer, his body looked as if it were made of cheese, and
his long ears resembled pieces of toast. A sort of white vapor
floated off the creature's back, and, as the breeze wafted it tow-
ard the group at the table, Tommy noticed that it had a fra-
grant and appetizing odor.
" What is that thing?" he asked, somewhat tremulously.
"That's the Welsh Rabbit," whispered the Sheep.
" Oh," said Tommy. " Uncle Dick eats one every night."
'"Sh-h-h!" said the ex-Pirate. "Don't talk like that. He
might hear you." The Sheep was frowning severely, and Tom-
my feared that he had said something indiscreet. In a few mo-
ments he was sure he had.
".Never talk of eating things," said the Sheep. " It is a ten-
der subject with some people. Kow would yon like to have a
lion come along here now and look at you and ask me if you
were good to eat ?"
This question, with its suggested possibilities, made Tommy
feel uncomfortable, and he moved nearer to the ex-Pirate.
" Are there any lions hereabouts ?" he asked.
"There might be,'' replied the Sheep; " lint they are all well-
bred lions, aud they don't talk about things to eat." This
statement reassured the little boy, but it made him again eager
to change the subject of the conversation.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
HARPEKS
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1895, by HARPKR & BROTHERS. All Rjjlils Res
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 795.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JANUARY 22, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A TEAR.
QABE LOLAR'S CARIBOU.
BY TAPPAN ADNEY.
ONE day a bundle of caribou-hides, wrapped in gunny-
sacking1 or burlap, arrived at the warehouse of a
dealer in hides down in "The Swamp," as that part of
New York city lying- immediately south of the Brooklyn
Bridge is known. So small a consignment as this would
hardly be given a second thought by a large dealer like
Mr. Cilley. But it had a special interest for me when,
at about the same time, I received a letter bearing a Ca-
nadian stamp and addressed in the familiar handwriting
of Humbolt Sharpe, authorizing me to take charge of his
shipment of hides, the result of his last hunting trip.
Humbolt was an old friend and the companion of many
a hunting- expedition in the New Brunswick woods, con-
sequently I was pleased to be able to help him in this
way.
Mr. Cilley was to keep the hides, while the heads of
any that could be used for mounting, together with sev-
eral pairs of antlers, were to go to a certain taxidermist.
We opened the bundle in Mr. Cilley 's warehouse, and
the hides, numbering upwards of a dozen, were spread
out upon the floor to be examined one by one. While
we were sorting' them over, our attention was drawn (us
I afterwards recalled more particularly) to a certain one
which, instead of having been taken off in the usual way
by a cut below, had been removed by a cut along the
middle of the back. Except for this, there was no other
210
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
mark by which I could have recalled it, as the antlers,
indeed, were smaller than the average. The skins were
divided up and weighed, and in due course I received the
checks for the amount of their value and forwarded them
to Humholt.
Hardly anything more was thought about the matter
until nearly a year later, when I paid a visit to that part
of the world.
Humbolt had favored me with only the barest account
of his famous hunt (about as much as a fellow ever does
put in a letter), consequently when two old hunting com-
panions got within arm's -length and ear-shot of each
other, as a matter of course no time was wasted in pre-
liminaries.
We went out into the public sitting-room of the little
village stopping-place, or inn, where we could draw our
chairs close up around the red-hot stove in the middle of
the room, whence we could look out through the double-
sashed windows upon the wintry landscape, with the whole
world buried in deep snow, and the River St. John bridged
with solid ice.
Almost the first thing Humbolt said was, "Did you
take notice of one of those hides that was ripped up the
back ;"
Then I remembered having seen the one, and I answered,
"Yes!" in the way one does when one asks a question.
But Humbolt, like a true backwoodsman, couldn't pro-
ceed without due preparations, so in a leisurely way he
first fished out of one pocket an old black brier -wood
pipe, and from another a plug of tobacco. He shaved off
some tobacco, rubbed it between his palms to soften it,
and stuffed his pipe full. No woodsman can do anything
without this preparation. Having got the smoke started,
Humbolt settled back in his chair and began:
"I never could quite make up my mind whether that
caribou belonged more to rne than to Gabe Lolar. What I
did doesn't count for much, it was just luck, but I cal'late
if it hadn't been for Gabe, in the first place, we wouldn't
have got the caribou.
'' I'd heard a good deal about Mirimichi River being a
great place for caribou, but I'd never been over there be-
fore. One man came from over there, and he said that
the caribou were fairly learin' the woods down, and if
somebody didn't git over there quick they'd have all the
woods tore to pieces. He said he never saw the like.
They were just like cattle in a back pasture. Where the
men were working, in the lumber woods, when they left
off at night the caribou came around to feed on the fresh
tops and the moss, and next mornin', he said, the snow 'd
be all tramped down just like a barn-yard. So I didn't
say a thing, but I just took Gabe Lolar — he's a good
Injun and a steady fellow when he isn't lazy-^-and Sa-
battis Something -or -other, another Injun, down from
Tobique, and we drove over to Sou'west Mirimichi with
all our stuff. We didn't go to a lumber camp, but we
found a small camp right handy to one of the roads. It
was the nicest little camp you ever saw, made out of logs
and boards and the snow was all over the top of it so
deep you could hardly tell where it was. I guess it be-
longed to some of those men that go there fishin' in the
summer-time.
"Well, I never expected to see what we did. We
killed just what you saw, but we could have killed a hun-
dred. I believe, just as easy as not. We took only what
we could save. We'd been in there a while when one
day I thought I wouldn't go out, as I had some work to
do in rump. - So all hands staid in. But along after
dinner Gabe got restless, and thought he'd take a little
cruise around, and he asked if he might take my gun in
place of his own. which was only a shot-gun. My gun
was a Colt's Repeater, holds fourteen shots in the maga-
zine and another in the barrel. So I said 'all right,'
but before I gave him the gun 1 cal'lated I'd better show
him how to work the thing, because — you know how it is
— sometimes a cartridge gets stuck half-way, and you
can't get it in or out without some trouble. He'd seen me
work the gun, and I guess he thought all he had to do
was to pull the slide backward and forward. I showed
him how you pull the slide to you quick, like this, and
then shove it back hard, like that. Then the gun's cocked
and all ready to pull the trigger.
" ' Oh, sartin,' Gabe said, 'he knew all about it.' I
filled the rifle all it would hold, and put another in the
barrel (but that isn't safe).
" Gabe started off with the rifle along the lumber road.
It was well broke out and easy travelling so we gener-
ally used to start off that way as far as we wanted to go.
Pretty soon Gabe turned off into the woods. Then he
had to slip on the snow-shoes. It was a warm spell, and
a thin crust had formed over the snow. It was pretty
near strong enough to hold a man without the shoes, but
it's mighty hard travel! in' when you go in your whole
leg every other step. Gabe didn't go any ways at all
hardly before he struck a big caribou. The caribou
started to run, but it got stuck the first thing.
"Now I don't care how deep the snow is, it may be
six feet, but caribous don't mind it a bit more'ii you'd
mind a foot. They just spread out their hoofs and jump,
landin' on their gambrels and dew-claws, and get along
in snow that 'd stall a deer or a moose. And it doesn't
take much of a crust to carry them, either. Whenever
a caribou's got any kind of footiii' it's 'good-by.' But
that time the crust was too weak. It \vas just so the
caribou cut through every step, and it was hard and as
sharp as glass.
"Well, Gabe started after it, and when he came to
where it was he took aim (I found out all about it from
Sabattis), and then gave the slide a hard jerk. Of course
that chucked the cartridge that was already in the ban-el
out into the snow. Then he shoved the lever back quick,
and that threw a fresh cartridge iii out of the magazine.
Just then the caribou got another whiff of Gabe (Injuns
smell pretty strong, livin' in smoky camps all the time),
and it started, but had to stop soon. The crust ketched
its knees, and it couldn't run far. Gabe must have got
rattled by that time. As soon as he got another chance,
he pointed the gun and did the same thing he did before.
Then he kept on pumpiii', and eveVy time, he pulled the
lever back he sent a cartridge sphmiii' into the air, and
he never even stopped to pick 'em up. He kept on till
he fired every blamed one out of the gun, and then he
didn't know what to do, at first.
" But Gabe wasn't such a big fool either. He got over
bein' nervous, and he saw about how the caribou was
goin'. So he said to himself that if he couldn't shoot
that caribou himself he could drive it toward camp, where
somebody else might. He started at the caribou again,
and found he could drive 'most any way he liked. The
caribou could hardly get along at all. Gabe said he
could go right up close before it would start. Well, he
drove it along ahead of him until he got pretty near the
camp. About that time I heard some one holler, and I
stuck my head out of the door, and saw there, about eight
or ten rod off, the caribou up to its middle in the snow,
and Gabe right after it, wavin' his arms like frantic, and
didn't know what he was sayin'. It was somethin' in
Injun, most likely.
" I yelled out to Gabe, ' Why don't you shoot?'
"But I didn't wait to hear what he said.
" I dived back into the camp, and fell over Sabattis
stretched out on the floor asleep, and I think he was go-
in' to kill me, until he got awake and found out what was
the matter. I grabbed the first gun in reach. It was
empty. I tell you I never rammed in a charge as quick
as I did that. I didn't stop to ram the powder, and it's a
wonder I didn't put the powder on top of the bullet, or
JANUARY 22, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
2H
forget to put the cap ou. I knew there was no time to
waste, for if that caribou ever struck the hard road, you can
wager that there's nothiu' that could touch 'im. I got out
of the camp, and before I could get a clear whack, for the
bushes, the caribou had struck the road. That caribou
had just been restin'. I jumped into the road myself,
just to see him limn.' right away from me, down hill, on
the keen jump. It was a straight piece of road leadin'
down a little grade to the brook, and that gave me a good
chance. I just drew a bead as nice as I could and let go.
That caribou turned clean over; I never saw anything
so slick in my life.
"I ran down to where the caribou fell, and Sabattis
right after me, and then Gabe came up with my rifle still
in his hand. He looked foolish and glad at the same
time. I said to him, the first thing: ' What's the matter,
Gabe? I didn't hear you shoot.'
"I took hold of the rifle, and when I looked into it I
saw it was empty. That kinder knocked me. But in about
a minute it dawned upon me how it was. I looked at
Gabe, but Gabe was looking at the fallen caribou. He
was not a man of words, and at that moment had some-
thing else to attend to. But Sabattis, with a wide grin,
made the only comment necessary.
' ' I guess Gabe forgit to pull-em trigger, mebbe.'
"The Indians then drew out their hunting-knives,
while I walked around behind the caribou, and dis-
covered that slit up the back that you saw. When I
looked closer I saw how it was. The bullet had struck
it from above squarely in the middle of the back, and it
had travelled along under the skin, and ripped it open as
clean as if had been done with a knife. The bullet had
fetched up in its neck, and I don't suppose the caribou
ever knew what touched it. It was one of those shots
you wouldn't make again in a thousand years. But, I
tell you, I'd 'a' given a good deal to have seen Gabe tryin'
to work that new-fangled rifle, and maybe pokin' at the
caribou with his gun to make it get along. Gabe worked
hard for him, and after all the trouble he had workin'
him in, it belonged to Gabe, by right."
Then changing the subject abruptly, he turned to me,
and added, eagerly,
" I suppose you'll have to have a hunt before you go
back?"
ON THE EARTH AND IN THE SKY.
WHAT WE KNOW OF THE MOON.
BY PROFESSOR WILLIAM M. DAVIS, OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY.
A LITTLE way up the street from my house is the
side gate of the observatory grounds; there a path
leads to the back door, from which the stairs ascend to
the little dome which stands to the right. On mild even-
ings in the spring and fall, before and after vacation, my
boys sometimes go up there with me for a half-hour with
the stars or for a trip to the moon. This is our play,
for my own work lies in other directions; but the play
gives us good lessons in astronomy. It is easy study-
ing about planets while looking at one of them through
the telescope.
Of all our evenings, those when a half-moon is shining
give the greatest entertainment. Nothing in the sky is
nearly so beautiful or so well shown in a middle-sized tele-
scope as the moon, with its plains and mountains. Every
part calls for scrutiny; and if a peculiar marking here or
there excites our curiosity, we put on a "higher power"
and .have a closer look at it. Down stairs is the astro-
nomical library, with maps of the moon and books about
it, from which we can learn what astronomers have found
out concerning the lunar mountains, their great height,
and the depth of the circular pits within their ringlike
walls. I wish that many others had so pleasant a neigh-
bor as the observatory is to us.
One cannot help feeling gratified that his lot is cast on
a moonlit planet, like the earth, and not on a moonless
planet, like Venus, where no such lovely object adorns
the sky, where the days are too bright and the nights too
dark. Of all the moons in the solar system, we have a
right to be particularly well pleased with ours, for com-
pared to our planet the moon is exceptionally large, and
gives us a more fitting companionship in the solitudes of
space than other planets find with their satellites. To be
sure, the boys ou Jupiter may boast of having four moons
to our one; and they may appropriately feel "jovial" in
their excess; but the moons there are very small compared
to Jupiter himself. The boys on Saturn may brag of a
•ring the like of which we have not here, not even in the
best- welded city governments; but their moons are rela-
tively small. The boys on Mars may take pride in the
unique fact that while the sun and the stars rise in the
east and cross their sky westward in the regular way, one
of their moons rises in the west and runs backward across
the sky; but it is a poor little scrap of a moon, probably
less than ten miles in diameter. Really, considering that
the earth is a planet of modest dimensions, it has done
very well to attach so large a moon to its wanderings.
Let us run over what is known of the moon, and see if
we cannot plan a little course in home-made observations
by which many of the astronomer's discoveries can be re-
peated and thus brought nearer to our understanding.
How far away is it? If you know how large the earth
is, you can lay out a plan of work that will measure the
distance of the moon much in the same way that was
done by the French astronomer Lacaille, who observed
from the Cape of Good Hope, a hundred and forty years
ago, while his friends observed in Europe. As he was
then about 4000 miles away from them, that being the
length of a meridian chord between the two observatories,
the moon seemed to stand a little, further north in the sky
when seen by Lacaille than when viewed from Europe.
On measuring this displacement, it was found to be about
a degree of arc, or twice the angular diameter of the
moon; and hence, as any boy or girl may prove with a
ruler and angular protractor, the distance to the moon
must be about sixty times the distance from the Cape of
Good Hope to middle Europe, or 240,000 miles. Any
high-school scholar can repeat the essential steps of this
great measurement, if he can secure a correspondent in
about his own longitude in the sou them hemisphere; west-
ern South America and eastern North America offer
many pairs of places that will serve well in this respect.
Let the observers agree that each of them shall track
the moon through the stars for a certain week; that each
shall send the other a tracing of the observed track;
then each one can measure the angle between the tracks,
and (knowing how far the observers are apart along a
meridian chord) each can calculate the distance to the
moon, and then compare the results. A boy who does
this will ever afterwards have a fuller sense of what as-
tronomy is than if he reads many books. Of course,
when the distance to the moon is known, its diameter in
212
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
miles is easily found by measuring its angular diam-
eter.
Now here is a neat little extension of this problem. If
you have found out how far away the moon is, you can
get a fair idea of the distance to the sun in this manner.
Watch the moon at the time of its first quarter. Deter-
mine as closely as you can when it is just half illuminated
— that is, when the rough edge or " terminator" between
its light and dark parts is a straight line, as in the accom-
panying view. By patiently watching through several
months you will at last have a chance to see a straight
terminator when the moon is in the eastern sky, before
sunset, and then by means of two sighting-sticks you
can measure the angle, at whose apex you stand, between
the sun to the moon. Now what is the geometry of this
problem? Manifestly, these three bodies, sun, moon,
THE HALF MOON, SHOWING TERMINATOR.
and earth, are at the points of a triangle ; the angle at the
moon must be a right angle (demonstrate this for your-
selves), and the angle at the sun must be a right angle
diminished by the angle that you have measured from
sun lo moon. Draw out a triangle of this shape on a
large sheet of paper; then, knowing how far it is from
earth to moon, find out how many times further it is to
the sun. Old Aristarchus of Samos did this twenty cen-
turies ago; but his results were not good; not better than
those that any bright young observer can now gain for
himself.
Gro a step further, if you like. If the sun looks as large
as the moon, in spite of being really so much further
away, how much larger is it in actual diameter? It gives
point to the study of geometry and trigonometry to apply
their principles to problems of such grand dimensions as
those of astronomy. Even if the measures are not exact,
the principles are correct, and are the same as those em-
ployed by the greatest astronomers of the world.
The discovery of the mountains on the moon by Gal-
ileo were among the first results of the invention of tel-
escopes. A very ordinary modern glass reveals them ;
and a telescope of four or five inches aperture shows
them in much detail; an endless delight for the observer.
Over thirty thousand of them have been charted on maps
of the moon ! Nearly all of these mountains have a ring-
like form, with the central area depressed, often to a low-
er level than that of the surrounding country, as is
known by the relative length of the internal and external
shadows. The diameter of the rings varies greatly,
some of the larger being fifty, one hundred, or even one
hundred and fifty miles, while the smaller look like lit-
tle dots in large telescopes. Their height above the sur-
rounding plains may be as much as three or four miles;
this being less than the highest of terrestrial mountains,
but greater in proportion to the size of the moon than any
of our mountains are to the earth. On account of the re-
semblance of these ring mountains to certain terrestrial
volcanoes, it has long been concluded that they were
produced by volcanic action, although no certain sign
of volcanic activity has been detected by direct observa-
tion. This conclusion is very generally accepted; yet
there are reasons for questioning it, or at least for hold-
ing an open mind with regard to the origin of the rings
and craters of the moon.
In the first place, nearly all the volcanoes of the earth
have a large cone and a relatively small crater, while
the reverse is true of the moon. It is true that in
certain terrestrial volcanic districts the upper portion
of the cones has been in some way destroyed — blown off
or fallen in — leaving a broad and deep depression, called
a caldera, enclosed by ring-like walls. For example, in
Italy several such calderas contain lakes of roughly cir-
cular outline. Similar basins occur on the Azores, in
Sumatra, and elsewhere; but by far the greater number
of terrestrial volcanoes are of the large-cone and small-
crater variety. Hence if the ring mountains 011 the moon
are of volcanic origin, they represent a phase of volcanic
activity that is exceptional, and not prevalent on the
earth.
Furthermore, an ingenious suggestion has been offered
that the lunar calderas are really the scars made where
great meteors fell on the moon, and that the rings around
the calderas were squeezed up around the places of im-
pact. Fanciful as this theory at first appears, it really is
worthy of consideration; and when treated mathemat-
ically, it is not found to be outside of reasonable possi-
bility, as far as the moon is concerned.
However all this may be, the rings and craters and
plains of the moon offer a most entertaining field for
study. See the great number of them in this view of the
half-moon. The semicircular limb turns toward the sun,
as we see it shortly after sunset at the time of first quar-
ter. Notice the darker areas, two to four hundred miles
in diameter. They are visible to the naked eye, and form
the familiar features of the "man in the moon." They
were called "seas" by the older astronomers, and still
bear the name, although it is now known that they con-
tain no water, and show no signs of ever having been
seas. Taking directions as we should 011 an ordinary
terrestrial map, we see near the eastern limb the Mare
Crisiurn, well known from being visible in the slender
crescent of the new moon. A little to the south of Cri-
sium lies the Mare Fecunditatis; and northwest of this-
follow the Mare Tranquilitatis and the Mare Serenitatis.
In the latter, a minute crater, Linne, has been suspected
of showing slight change during this half-century. West
of the last-named sea is the Mare Imbrium, only its
eastern part, sometimes called the Palus Nebularum, be-
ing seen here. It contains three important craters: Ar
chimedes, fifty miles in diameter, near the shadow-edge
or " terminator," in the view here given ; Autolycus (23),
and Aristillus (34) a little further east. Further north,
a little white spot is Pico, a curious isolated peak of
unusual form. The Mare Imbrium is enclosed by the
Apennines on the southeast, by the Alps on the north- .
east, and the Caucasus lie near its eastern border. These
are more like terrestrial mountain-ranges than is gener-
ally the case with lunar mountains; but they are dif-
JANUARY 22, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
213
PTOLEMY, ALPHONStTS, AND ARZACHEL.
ferent in having no valley systems, and, moreover, here
and there their surface is pitted by a characteristic crater.
The Mare Vaporum lies south of the Apennines; and
then, passing into the southern hemisphere, we enter a
region crowded with craters. First come three large
rings in a ro\v, the most northern being Ptolemy (115);
with Herschel (*4), a smaller and deeper pit, next north
of it; then Alphonsus (83), and Arzachel.(65), with a well-
marked central peak, to the south. Further south the cra-
ters are too numerous to be named here. Little craters
are often found sunk into the rings of larger and earlier
craters; thus their succession of formation can be made
out. Just as we call the study of the earth's surface
Geography, so the study of the moon's surface is called
Selenography; words of this kind still bearing
in these modern times the impress of the old
Greeks, whom we follow in so many ways.
There is one very curious thing about the
movement of the moon. Although it goes around
us once a month — or moonth, as I like to call it
— we see only one side of it. The other side is en-
tirely unknown, as it is always turned away from
the earth. Some persons argue from this that
the moon does not rotate on its axis; but such
an opinion implies a wrong understanding of ro-
tation. Rotation consists in turning so as to face
in every direction successively all around the
compass. The moon certainly has this motion,
for during the period of a moonth, while it is
moving around the earth, it turns its visible side
toward us from all directions.
The curious point here involved is not that the
moon does not rotate, but that it rotates on its
axis in the same period as it revolves around the
earth.
The real interest in this matter of rotation is:
Why do the periods of rotation and revolution
agree? Believing that the existing arrangement
of the solar system follows by slow changes from
former conditions, no one can suppose that the
agreement is accidental. It must mean that the two
movements have been brought into coincidence of
period by some physical process, and this is beau-
tifully accounted for by the tidal interaction of the earth
and moon.
Just as the moon causes tide-making forces in the earth,
so the earth, a larger body, causes much stronger tide-
making forces in the moon. Ages ago, when both bodies
were hotter than now, and more yielding to tidal forces,
it is believed that tides were produced not only in what-
ever oceans the bodies may have then had, but also in
their whole mass. On account of these ancient bodily
tides each body tried to reduce the period of rotation of
the other one to equality with the period of the revolu-
tion around their common centre of gravity. The moon
is so small as to have been unsuccessful in this attempt,
and the earth still rotates in much less time than a
moonth; but the earth has succeeded completely, and the
moon's day and month now agree perfectly. This is
all of the tidal story that can be told here.
Lunar eclipses can only occur at time of full moon,
because only then is the moon opposite the sun, in the
neighborhood of the earth's long conical shadow. But
as the moon sometimes passes north, sometimes south, of
the shadow, there is not a lunar eclipse every month.
On the other hand, at times of new moon the moon's
shadow, that is always trailing opposite to the sun, some-
times falls on the earth; then those of us who happen to
live on the path of the shadow have an eclipse of the
sun, and a total eclipse of the sun is one of the strangest
events in the world. The moon's shadow is so small that
it covers but a little of the earth's surface; hence total
eclipses happen but rarely at any one place. The shadow
moves rapidly across the earth's face; hence the duration
of a solar eclipse is brief as seen by any one observer.
The entire hiding of the sun seldom lasts more than two
minutes. Even in a clear sky a pall of darkness then
spreads over the landscape. Birds and animals mistake
it for the coming of night. Savages and ignorant people
are frightened by the unnatural occurrence, and think it
forebodes the coining of misfortunes. Enlightened peo-
ple, knowing beforehand that an eclipse is coming at a
certain time and place, watch for it with the greatest
interest, and on finding that it happens within a few
seconds of the predicted time, delight in it as a proof of
the marvellous power of man's intellect, through which
the order of nature is so wonderfully revealed.
LUNAR APENNINES, WITH ERATOSTHENES AT WEST END, AND ARCHIMEDES,
ACTOLTtTS, AND ARISTII.LCS TO THE NORTH.
"SCAPEGRACE.
BY CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U.S.A.
rilHERE was one boy at Fort Ransom who wished there
J_ were no such tilings as women in the world, and that
was Captain Grace's ten year old Tommy. There weren't
very many of them in Tommy's own world, to be sure,
and that had something to do with so many from with-
out "coming in and interfering with a feller," as he ex-
pressed it. We all know the old adage, "What is every-
body's business is nobody's business," but Tommy — on
the principle probably that it was a poor rule that wouldn't
work both ways— had long since made up his mind that
people read the thing t'other side foremost, and, so far as
he was concerned, what was really nobody's business*
seemed everybody's business. It was nobody's business,
for instance, that he should like to wear a little beaded
buck skin shirt that h is father had had made for him among
the Sioux Indians, but the mothers of other boys in the
garrison, boys who hadn't a Sioux hunting shirt, used to
come to Captain Grace, or to Aunt 'Ria, and protest against
his being allowed to run wild in such heathenish gar-
ments. It was nobody's business, thought Tommy, that
he should prefer to spend his holidays four miles away
from the fort, among the railway men at the round-house,
where all the locomotives of the division were in turn
" stabled " and oiled and cleaned and fired ; but other boys
were not allowed to go, and, boylike, upbraided their
mothers, who accordingly upbraided Aunt 'Ria. It was
nobody's business that his father gave Tommy for his
own purposes the stupendous sum of twenty-five cents a
week for spending-money, stipulating only one thing —
that not a cent should ever go for cigarettes; but there
were many good and devout women at the fort who de-
clared to Aunt 'Ria that this was simply throwing money
away, and snaring the youngster's path witli temptation.
"No boy of mine," said more than one mamma, "shall
ever be allowed to carry about him the means of indul-
ging vicious tastes." And no one was more decided on
this point than the chaplain's good wife, whose own boy
had been the means of making Tommy acquainted with
cigarettes the year before. In fact, it was because of his
refusal to contribute more than one-fifth of his weekly
allowance to the fund for the Sunday-school Christmas
Tree that had led the lady superintendent to refer to him
as Scape Grace, instead of Tommy. "Give a dog a bad
name," says the adage, and with a dog so with a boy.
Fort Ransom took up the name with a zest which was
born of a propensity for teasing rather than any spirit of
unkindness, but it stuck, as often will the most unde-
served of names or reputations, and Tommy Grace,
through no real fault of his own, became the scapegrace
of the big garrison.
It was anything but fair to the little fellow. He was
just as square and honest and well meaning a boy as there
was in the whole community. Ransom was quite a large
post, far out across the wide wind-swept prairies of the
West, and near the bustling railway town of Butteville —
generally named Butte for short. Here were stationed
during the year gone by the headquarters and eight com-
panies of a regiment of "regular" infantry, and one of
these companies was commanded by Captain Grace.
Tommy's lot might have been a very different one but
for a fact you have probably already surmised — that he
had lost his mother. Five years before, when he was a
little bit of a chap, a severe and sudden illness had swept
her from their sight almost before they could realize that
she was in danger. Tommy was too young to know
what he had lost, but the blow was a bitter one to his
soldier father. Not for long months did he return to the
regiment after taking her to her far-away Eastern home
for burial, and when he did the Captain brought with him
his sister, a maiden lady of nearly his own age, the only-
thing in the world he could think of as a partial substi-
tute for Tommy's mother.
Aunt 'Ria had no experience in taking care of children,
but she had all manner of theories as to how they should
be reared and managed. As a result poor Tommy's early
boyhood proved to be a period of curiously varying ex-
periments. What was right and proper for him to do .one
month was all wrong the next, and by the time he was
ten years old his ideas of boy rights and wrongs might
have become hopelessly confused but for his own pro-
pensity for taking the bit in his teeth, aiid bolting for ad-
vice and comfort to his father himself.
" Never mind what the trouble is, Tommy — never mind
whether the fault is yours or somebody else's — never be
afraid to come and tell nie the whole story just as
' straight' as you know how. Let me be your best friend,
and I'll do my best; only remember, Tom, 'the truth,
the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.' I don't care
what mischief you can get into or wrong you can do so
long' as you tell me all about it. Concealment is what I
should fear most."
"Poor little chap I" he said to himself, "lie has no
mother to go to and sob out his troubles. Boys hate to
cry before their fathers, especially soldier boys. I can't
be his playmate, for boys must have boys for that, but I
can be his friend, please God! and teach him to trust me
and confide in me, and if he does get into scrapes they
can't be any worse than mine were."
And so, despite his name, Tommy wasn't particularly
miserable except when Aunt 'Ria was lecturing, or " those
other women " were telling him about what he should be
or shouldn't be doing, "if you were my boy." Captain
Grace had taught him to stand respectfully and listen to
it all in silence, * just as I do, Tommy, when the Colonel
finds fault with something in Company B, or when I'm
officer of the day."
"But lie has a right to," blurted Tommy; "he's com-
manding officer. Now Mrs. Croly and Mrs. Wilson and
Mrs. Darling, they haven't any business telling Aunt
'Ria or me I shouldn't do this or that so long as you ap-
prove."
" Never mind. Tommy. Every woman thinks she has,"
said the philosophic Captain. " It does them good. It
does you no harm, and we have lots of fun over it between
ourselves. So never be rude or disrespectful."
The Division Superintendent at Butte was a man just
the age of Captain Grace, and from early boyhood the
two had been close friends. Even after their separation,
when young Grace was sent to W7est Point, they had
kept up their correspondence, and great was the Captain's
•pleasure when the regiment was ordered down "out of
the Sioux country " and stationed at Ransom, mainly be-
cause it brought him once more into close relations with
George Rollins, his old-time school chum and his life-
long friend.
Promotion in railroading is almost as slow as it is in
the army, and Mr. Rollins at forty was only a Divis-
ion Superintendent, but every one connected with " the
road " was well aware that better things were in store for
him. ' Rollins was still a bachelor, and he took instantly
to Master Tommy, and for a whole year that little man
had been learning all the mysteries of the round-house,
the shops, the train -despatcher's office, and "the road"
generally, for while on Saturdays, and even, it must be
owned, on occasional Sunday afternoons, the Captain and
his old friend were chatting together over old times.
Master Tommy, perched in the cab of the switch engine
under care of "Mike" Farrell, the engineer, was steam-
JANUARY 22, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
215
ing up and down the yards, darting from track to track,
shunting cars from shop to station, from storehouse to
elevator, making up trains and pulling them hither and
yon, and all the time his eyes and ears were wide open,
and he was practically hent on "learning the business."
Farrell taught him the purpose and use of every lever,
rod, stop-cock, and gauge about the engine; let him ring
the bell, whistle for brakes or switches; even, after a
while, to stand on the engineer's, instead of the fireman's
bench at the side of the cab, and with Farrell's brawny
hairy fist to guide, to seize the throttle-valve with his
own boy hand and start the engine, increase the steam,
and shut it off. He learned how to make a "gentle"
start without jerk or strain; he learned how to reverse
and " back," although lie had not strength enough to
throw the great geared lever that Farrell handled so
easily. He learned all the science of " firing," so far as
it could be taught on a switch engine, and later Mr.
Rollins handed him over to the engineer of the great
transcontinental express trains, and big Ned Weston, who
ran No. 615, the biggest and most powerful passenger
locomotive on the mountain division, took him on his
Saturdays as far west as Summit Siding, away up at the
top of the range, and there presented him to "Hank"
Lee, whose engine, No. 525, made the daily down-grade
run with the East-bound mail — a light, swift train — from
Summit to Butte in forty-seven minutes. That was a
glorious run, and Tommy loved to tell of it; so much M>.
that other boys, and lots of them, grew tired or envious,
or both; and even while secretly wishing that they knew
the Division Superintendent, and that he would give
them "the run of the road" as he did Tommy Grace,
they feigned to scorn the whole business, and to ridicule
Tommy's railway friends, and sneer at his aims and aspi-
rations— for Tommy had long since decided lie did not
mean to be a soldier, he was going to be a locomotive
engineer.
" If I were Scapegrace," said one of his best friends
among the boys, "I'd shake books entirely and stick to
the round-house; he's learned that lesson anyhow."
"If I were Captain Grace," said the schoolmaster, " I
should require Thomas to spend his Saturdays studying
what he has missed during the week, instead of wasting
time among those railway hands."
"And if I had any influence with Captain Grace — or
if Miss Grace had, either — something would be done to
redeem that poor little fellow," said more than one of the
army mothers at Ransom. "Think of the danger he is
running."
But Captain Grace was deaf to protests of this nature.
He listened to what was said with his quiet smile, spent
his hour with Tommy every evening over the slate and
books, satisfied himself that what he did know the boy
knew thoroughly and well, and almost every Saturday
rode into Butte with him, and was there to meet him
when No. 4 (the mail train) came clanging into the
station late in the afternoon, Tommy's cinder-streaked,
chubby, happy face smiling at him from the cab.
" That boy's going to be a boss engineer one of these
days, Captain," said Mr. Lee one lovely May evening.
"I shouldn't wonder if Mr. Rollins would have to start
him as a fireman before he's fourteen. The road '11 be
glad to get a boy as bright as Tommy. He can handle
this old lady now most as well as my fireman here,"
and Hank patted affectionately the massive steel con-
necting rod of his "driving wheels."
But neither engineer, nor Captain, nor Tommy dreamed
how soon, how very soon "the road " and all Fort Ran-
som would devoutly thank Heaven that Scapegrace had
learned railroading better than he had arithmetic.
Leaving only a small detachment to guard the fort,
Colonel Wallace with the regiment, early in June,
had marched awav westward from Ransom, had crossed
the mountain range, and had joined a force of infantry
and cavalry massed in the V&lley of the Beaver, ninety
miles away. There they were to spend two months in
manosuvres under command of a general officer, and
there, right after the Fourth of July, some of the boys
were to join their fathers in camp — Tommy among them.
But late in June came tidings of serious troubles
among the railway men at the East; then that a general
strike was threatened, and all of a sudden some mysteri-
ous order was Hashed along the wires even to Butte and
beyond, and that day not another wheel turned on the
mountain division. In vain Mr. Rollins argued and
plead with his men. They honored him— they had no
"grievance" with their employers — but one and all they
were members of some one of the several railway men's
" Unions, " sworn to obey the orders of their respective
chiefs, even against those of their foremen or superinten-
dents, and the firemen, switchmen, and certain trainmen
had received the signal to strike, and though in almost
every case it was done with misgiving and reluctance,
strike they did.
Then the engineers tried to run their engines with new
hands for firemen, even in some cases tried to " fire" for
themselves. Then committees came and warned the new-
comers off, and such as would not obey were promptly
pulled off and kicked out of the yards. The next who
tried were stoned and beaten. Then deputy marshals
came to protect the newly employed, and then came riot.
It was bad enough at Butte, where the station and yards
were in the hands of railwaymen alone, but it was in-
finitely worse in great cities to the East, where all the
criminal classes, the mass of tramps, loafers, and vaga-
bonds promptly turned out, and the next thing known at
Ransom a million dollars' worth of railway .property was
being burned and destroyed; the police and the sheriffs
were beaten, and the President had ordered the " regu-
lars" to the scene.
Never will the boys of Fort Ransom forget the evening
of the 2d of July, when the despatch was received that
Colonel Wallace with his eight companies was on a spe-
cial train, had started from Beaver Station, and would
pass through Butte, eastward bound, at ten o'clock that
very night if uothinij interfered. There was a military
telegraph line running from Ransom through Bear's Paw
Gap, miles north of the railway, and so on through the
mountains to the outlying forts in the Beaver Valley.
That, as yet at least, the strikers had not cut, but, all too
soon, they learned, through friends and sympathizers
among the railway telegraphers, that Mr. Rollins had
been able to make up a train ; and with old No. 615 in
the lead, big Ned Weston at the throttle-valve, two of
Uncle Sam's bluecoats for firemen, and Captain Grace
with six of his men to back Mr. Rollins on the engine
and tender, and with the whole train bristling with bay-
onets, Colonel Wallace and his regiment were coming for
all they were worth, bound to carry out their orders if
they had to cut their way through Butte.
It was the schoolmaster himself who came driving out
to the fort, and driving the women and children wild with
fear and excitement with the next news — that the strikers
had armed themselves, and that, with the hangers-on and
the unemployed about the town and the great array from
the repair-shops, a thousand determined men had gather-
ed, and meant to assault the troop train — "if, indeed,"
said he, " it ever gets as far as Butte. If a possible thing,
wire to Summit siding and warn them." And wire the
quartermaster did, only to get reply: " Too late. Troop
train passed through at nine o'clock. Should be at Butte
now."
" Oh, if we only had Scapegrace with us now !" was the
wail of one poor wife and mother. " Is there no way of
warning? He knew every bit of the track to the west.
He should have ridden out and done something." All
216
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
HE FALTERED AT THE BRINK AND THEN PLUNGED IN.
the other boys were safe at home within the fort gates,
but not since evening gun-fire had Tommy been seen.
"He took his pony, ma'am, and galloped away to Butte
like mad just before sundown," was all Lhe quartermaster-
sergeant could tell Aunt 'Ria, before he himself mounted
and rode away after the quartermaster in the vain hope
that it might not yet be too late to "do something."
Down in the bottom of his heart the quartermaster had
no dread of any serious trouble once the troop train got
to Butte. Old Wallace knew well how to handle mobs,
big or little; but that long stretch of lonely unprotected
track through the foot-hills to the west, that wooden
trestle, that Howe truss bridge over Four-mile Creek, sup-
pose the strikers were to get there first, and wreck them
in front of that heavy train thundering down grade.
There, was the rub !
And Scapegrace had not had his eyes and ears open
for six long months for nothing. No sooner had he heard
the talk at. Ransom of how a special train was to come on
and break the blockade than he bethought him of stories
lie had heard in cab and caboose, in switchman's shanty and
carsmith's shop, and never did that piebald pony split the
wind as he did on Tommy's dash for town. Leaving him
panting and astonished at the corral, his little master, well-
nigh breathless himself, made his rapid way to the depot.
The platforms were crowded with rough, sullen, angry
men. Somebody was making a speech, and urging the
crowd to stand together now, and sweep the bloody-handed
soldiers from the face of the earth if ever they strove to
pass the spot; and then some frantic, half-drunken fellow
shrieked, "They'll never see this side of Four-mile Run !''
And Tommy, wild with anxiety, sought in vain for some
familiar, friendly face, for some one to tell what had
been, done or advise what he should do. All in vain.
Engineers had been, driven from the yards and forbidden
to return. The striking firemen, appalled most of them
by the proportions assumed by the riot, seemed to have
slunk away. These wild, riotous, half - drunken men
were total strangers. Perhaps it was lucky that they
knew him no better than he knew them, or he might not
have slipped, trembling away, as he was enabled to a mo-
ment later, his boy heart fluttering up into his throat, for
the fearful words he heard had stricken him with terror.
"I tell you 'twarn't no use to burn the bridge ahead of
'em. They'd only ford the creek, march into town, and
make up a train here, an' we hadn't the men to stop 'em.
There was only just one thing to do — to set them switch
signals 'All right, come ahead,' and wreck the whole
outfit as it reached the bridge."
Ten minutes later, his young heart bounding like his
pony's hoofs, Scapegrace was galloping westward over
the broad prairie, leaving Butte a mile behind, and Ran-
som farther still beyond. Already darkness wTas settling
over the foot-hills of the range; already lights were pop-
ping up here and there from outlying ranch or farm-
house. Behind him the electric globes were gleaming h igh
over the bustling town, but Tommy had no time to look
back. Half a mile to the southward he could see dim
lights, like will-o'-the-wisps, dancing along what he knew
to be the railway embankment, and ahead of him, dark,
gloomy, vague, and silent, lay the broad valley through
which turned and twisted the stream. A roaring moun-
tain torrent at times, it was only "bank full" now.
There was a low wooden bridge two hundred yards north
of the railway trestle; there was a good ford quarter of a
mile above that, but if by any chance these were guarded
by the strikers — and Tom had heard how they held
them long years before in the great railway strike
of '77 — then he and Dot would either have to push a
full mile further up stream or find some unguarded point
and swim for it. In his right hand he carried a lantern
borrowed at the corral — taken, rather, without a by-your-
leave to anybody — for only a Mexican packer was there
as he unhitched his pony. In his pocket were his matches,
and on his lips a prayer for aid and guidance and protec-
tion. Beyond all doubt those twinkling lights far to the
left and front meant that the strikers were already at the
trestle and the truss. Beyond all doubt the only thing
for him to do was to pass around them to the north, and
speed far and fast up the winding ravines among the foot-
hills until — a sure, safe distance beyond all chance of in-
terference— he could light his lantern when the great
blazing eye of No. 615 came peering forth from the black
mouth of the tunnel, and then he would leap on the track
and signal stop.
Not three miles from town, and already Dot was pant-
ing and protesting. Not yet quarter past nine, but black
darkness was settling down over distant peak and neigh-
boring prairie. One mile further and he would reach
the bridge, but long before coming to the stream he must
pull up and go cautiously and listen. How dreadfully
near those dim wicked lights looked at the southwest —
away down in the lowlands! Something told him what
that meant. All that ground wasoverflowed in the spring.
The truss bridge and the trestle carried the track along
full twenty feet above the July level of the stream, and,
just as those villains said at the depot, these villains out
here were sawing slanting cuts through the sturdy beams
— the uprights of the trestle — and the weight of the mass-
ive engine would do the rest. On, Dot! — on! Even
now old 615 must be roaring through the rock cuts east
of Summit. Tommy could even seem to see his friend
the engineer standing there with firm-set face staring
straight ahead through the cab window, his right hand
on the reversing-lever, his left on the air-brake cock, the
throttle- valve shut tight, and not an ounce of steam on,
for with smoking wheels the great train was shooting
JANUARY 22, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
217
curve after curve down the east face of the grand moun-
tain spur, held back from headlong rush to destruction
only by the grip of the brakes 011 the polished steel of the
tires. And soon they would plunge into the tunnel
through Ute Tower, and then come sweeping forth in long
graceful curve around Red Bluffs, and then, then Neil's
left would shift from air-brake to throttle, and one would
close and the other open, and 615 would begin again to
throb and puff and pant, and, with unhampered wheels.
the long train would leap to the race once more, with
Four Mile Creek and switch and siding, and beyond them
the big truss and trestle only two level miles ahead.
Heavens! Here was Four Mile Creek now, foaming
along almost parallel with his road, and there, not two
hundred yards ahead, lay the low uncovered wooden
bridge over which he must pass unseen, or else ford or
swim. Many a time, with exultant heart, high aloft, had
he gone skimming over that dimly outlined trestle and
under that net work of beams and stringers just visible
against the southern stars. Many a lime had he and Dot
ridden over the humble crossing that seemed to span only
from rock to rock — a fragile bridge that, was swept away
every spring, only to be gathered up and put together by
the ranchmen every June, but 011 the trestle twinkled
wreckers' lights. On the low bridge ahead gleamed a
lantern that told him the enemy was there. 1 >ot, almost
slid ui)on his haunches in astonishment at the sudden
check, and then whirled madly about in ansuer to his
rider's driving heel and tugging rein. Springing up |Y,,ni
the roadside a few yards ahead a dark form loomed sud-
denly into sight, and a hoarse voice shouted, " Who's
that ?"
But Scapegrace never stopped to answer. With his
head turned homewards Dot took new heart, and lieu-
back alon^ the lonely road full three hundred yards be-
fore he felt the pressure of leg and rein that turned him
northward. Indignantly he shook his mane, but obedi-
ently sped away. Over the springy bunch-grass he was
laboring now, panting hard, and wondering what on
earth could make his little master so unmerciful, and
presently there were sounds as of distant shouting, at
which Tommy urged the more, and bent low over the pom-
mel, and then Dot found himself circling westward again,
but far above the point where first they reached the hank
of the stream, and soon he heard it roaring over its rocky
bed and straight ahead of them. Another moment and
he would have swerved, for here they were upon the
very verge, but both Tommy's heels came driving hard
against his astonished ribs, and Tommy's knees were
gripping him like a living vise. One instant he faltered
at the brink and then plunged helplessly in, yielding to
the master hand and will. "On, Dot! — on!" was Tom-
my's constant cry. And so, stumbling, plunging, going
down once on his knees, and burying his nose deep in the
flood, the gallant piebald obeyed, and at last, with drip-
ping flanks, clambered safely out oil the westward side.
One short minute for a breathing spell, then on they
went again. Four minutes more, and the dim lights at
the bridge, half a mile to the south, were square to the
left; six minutes, and they were well behind ; ten minutes,
and Tom and Dot, wearily, heavily now, were lumbering
up a long ravine, dark and drear and lonely, but the
brave heart of the little fellow never faltered; he would
reach that level mile over the " bench " in front of Red
Bluff, and stop the headlong rush of old 615, no matter
what lying switch lig'hts might, say, no matter what
drink-maddened strikers might, do.
Already he was drawing near the track again. Glan-
cing over his left shoulder he could see that only one
light was gleaming now near the bridge — the fa.int green
disk at the switch. Their cowardly work complete, the
gang had doused their lanterns, and now were lurking in
the shadows well away, yet lingering, fascinated, to watch
the result. On, Dot — on! It must be that the train is
near. Scapegrace strained his ears to listen, but Dot's
panting drowned all other sounds. At last, just ahead
A BREATHLESS BOY STUMBLED FORWARD INTO THEIR ARMS, SHOUTING OUT, "THE BRIDGE!"
218
HAKPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
now, dimly seen against the southern sky, a straight
lancelike staff stood pointing to the zenith — a telegraph
pole, and there, further east, another. The track at last
— at last! and not an instant too soon. Even as lie
prodded Dot to one last effort, far to the west among the
hills a dull roar as of distant thunder fell upon his ears.
The train! the train ! already at the Tower Tunnel.
In mad haste now he threw himself from the saddle,
leaving Dot with bowed head and heaving flanks to look
after himself. In mad haste he scrambled up the low
embankment, grasping his precious lantern. In mud
haste he fumbled for his matches, thanking God with all
his boyish heart that the night wind had not risen. An-
other minute, and, crack! a bright flame shot from the
iron rail— another, and a feeble glimmer sprang from the
wick. Another, and witli increasing roar and rumble
the bowels of the earth seemed to slowly open half a
mile to the west, and a white light growing' every instant
brighter and broader came streaming around the base of
Red Bluff, and then a brilliant gleaming eye seemed
suddenly to focus on the track. Two threads of glisten-
ing steel, nearly five feet apart where he stood, seemed
to meet almost immediately under it; the rails began to
creep and quiver, the ground to tremble, and with his lit-
tle heart away up in his throat Tommy lifted high his
lantern — high as he could reach — then lowered and
raised — lowered and raised, straight up and down —
square in the middle of the track, and, bearing down on
him at full speed, his mighty engine throbbing under him
instinct with life, big Ned Westou, peering from his cab
window just as Tommy pictured him, saw and under-
stood. Shriek went the whistle, slap went the throttle-
valve Hat against the boiler, snap went the air-brake,
every clamp gripping its wheel on the instant like a vise.
Out from the 'scape-valve, with mighty hiss and roar,
rushed the pent-up steam, and all on a sudden the big
train began to bump and grind along the rails. Black
heads popped out of the open windows, and little by little
old 015's flying wheels slowed down and came to a stand,
and Ned Weston's foremost guards, springing from the
pilot, rail ahead, a tall Captain bounding after them, and
a little freckle - faced breathless boy stumbled forward
into their arms, sobbing out "The bridge!"
Four hours later, in another train, without a man in-
jured or missing, Colonel Wallace and his command
pushed ahead from Butte. Meantime, however, they had
marched into town with half a dozen prisoners picked up
near the ruined trestle, had hammered some riotous heads
rather hard, and had had a chance to tell to many a wife
and mother who had hurried into town for one glimpse
of her own particular soldier the story of their escape.
"Goodness gracious!'' said Fort Ransom, "who would
have thought of that in Scapegrace?"
But it was the old Colonel who picked the little fellow
up and held him close to his heart one minute before they
started on again, then, with glistening eyes, returned
him to his silent father, and grasped the latter's hand.
"Say rather who would have thought of that but
Scapegrace!" was the way old Wallace put it.
THE FALLING STAR.
A LITTLE maul by the window-bar
Stood eagerly watching a falling star:
She clapped her hands with a quick delight,
But grew demure as it passed from sight.
One moment still as the star, now dead,
Tin' next she lifted her curly lirad,
And s;iid with an earnestness none could doubt.
••1 link it's a tandle dat Dod blew out!"
WILLIAM H. HAYXE.
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.*
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE "WIGWAG" SIGNAL.
'"VTOW how on earth are we to manage it, that's what
_Ll I'd like to know?" said George.
"Not by being impatient," said Hal. "We must keep
cool and think."
"Right, sir," said Peter, who was a party to the coun-
cil. " As my old mother used to say, fust do a good deal
o' thin kin', then a good deal o' talkin', an' then mebbe
ye'll be fit to do a little doin'."
"First of all, "said Harold," we must let Captain Lock-
wood know that we saw his son in the hands of the rebels."
" Werry good," said Peter. " An' then him an' you talks
it all over an' shapes a course for wot are to be did next."
" Exactly," said Harold. " But first of all we've got to
get permission to go ashore, so that —
"Mr. King, the First Lieutenant wants to see you,"
said a messenger, corning up.
In a few minutes Harold returned with beaming eves.
" It's the finest kind of luck," he said, "but I'm order-
ed to go ashore on an errand. I have permission to take
you with me, George, and Peter's to be our cockswain."
" When are we to go?" asked George.
"Right away," answered Hal.
" Werry good," said Peter. " I goes an' I gets the boat."
Harold had already reported his orders to the officer of
the deck, and in a few minutes the boat was at the star-
board gangway. The boys set off for the shore in good
spirits, and were not long in finding their way to the
Alma, where they were heartily welcomed by Captain
Lockwood and Minnie.
"That was a great time we had two days ago," said the
Captain. "But I'll admit that although I came to the
wharf I was sorry to see the American ships return to
their berths without giving Da Gama a thrashing."
" But you forget Frank !" exclaimed Hal.
"Well, for his sake I'm glad there was no fight."
"We have some news for you," said Hal.
"About Robert?" exclaimed the Captain.
" He's in the hands of the rebels," said George.
"Oh, I've learned that, " said the Captain. "It was
Bob that called to me from the tug the other day. But
my agent here can't find out where he is now."
"Then they have him hidden somewhere," said Hal.
"That's it; but where?"
"Frank is our man," said Hal, after a moment's
thought. "He must get his friend Bennos to find out
for him."
"Do you think Bennos will do it?" asked the Captain.
" I don't know," replied Hal, " but I see no other way.
Anyhow, Captain, you work your way, and we'll try to
communicate with Frank. Between the two we ought
to get something."
The boys now went to attend to their errand, and in a
short time were on their way back to the ship. While
they had been ashore Frank had heard a piece of news
that filled him with the deepest anxiety. The boy had
picked up enough of the language to understand a good
deal more than the Brazilians thought he did, and lie had
overheard a conversation which made him intensely anx-
ious to communicate with his uncle. Unfortunately he
was allowed no liberty at all, because the Brazilians,
knowing him to be an American, had no" faith in him
now. So Frank now set about contriving some plan by
which he could communicate with Harold and George.
He knew that whatever he was to do must be done quick-
ly, for the Aquidaban might at any moment up anchor
• Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 784.
JANUARY 22, 1895
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
219
and stand out to sea again. But plan as he might he
could think of no way to meet his two classmates. It is
said that when Fortune is at her worst she turns favor-
ably, and she certainly now favored Frank.
" Amigo mio," said Bennos, approaching him as he
stood leaning over the taffrail ; ''some men are to go to
the beach to swim. You are to command the boat."
The beach referred to was on Engenha Island, near
which the Aquidaban was anchored. It was half a mile
away from the war-ship, and as pleasant a place for bath-
ing as could be found in such foul waters.
"All right," said Frank. "Are they going right away?"
"Si, amigo," replied Bennos.
The boat, with some twenty-five Brazilians in it, was
brought alongside, and Frank seated himself in the stern-
sheets.
" How long are we allowed?" he called to Bennos as
the boat was pushed off.
"Till the next watch begins," was the answer.
That meant nearly two hours. In fifteen minutes the
boat was on the beach and the men were undressing.
Frank did not feel like swimming in Rio Harbor.
"Take charge of the men," he said to the principal
petty officer.
Then he walked away toward a short bluff point which
terminated the beach at one end, and sat down on a rock.
He was half lost in moody speculation when he chanced
to notice that he was almost abeam of the Detroit. By
walking around to the side of the point furthest from the
beach, and out of sight from the deck of the Aqiii<l«l><in.
he found himself directly opposite the American gun-boat.
"Now," he thought, "if I could only signal the boys.
But of course it wouldn't do."
At that moment an American man-of-war's boat came
around the end of the island nearest the city. There
were two officers in the stern, but it was impossible to
identify them at the distance. However, as the boat ad-
vanced it drew nearer to the island, and Frank began to
fancy that he recognized one of the officers as George.
''They'll be past in a few minutes, and out of sight
around the point," he muttered. "I'll risk it."
He broke a short straight branch oft' a bush, and tied
his handkerchief to it, making a small but distinct signal-
flag. Then selecting a place where the light was good,
and there was a solid background of green, lie began
making the three motions to the left which represent the
letter D in the navy wigwag code. D is the " call" let-
ter of Detroit. He made the signal half a dozen times
in vain, and he thought the boat was about to pass out
of sight around the end of the point, when suddenly the
men ceased rowing. One of the officers in the stern took
off his cap, and, without standing up, waved it twice to
the left, twice to the left again, and then once down in
front of him. That meant that the signal of Frank was
seen and understood.
"Jolly good thing I know my wigwag so well,"
thought Frank; "and if those beastly Brazilians should
see these signals they couldn't read them."
Frank now rapidly wigwagged this message:
"Frank Lockwood would like to say something to
Hal King or George Briscomb."
" We are both in this boat. Will come ashore," was
the answer.
"Pull in diagonally; don't let men bathing see you
land," signalled Frank.
The hint was taken, and five minutes later the light
whale-boat was scraping her heel on the sand behind the
point.
"It's lucky we were sent off on an errand just when
you were ashore," said George, grasping Frank's hand.
" We've been to see your uncle," said Hal.
" Is he well? And Minnie?" asked Frank.
" Both are well. We had news for them," said Hal.
" We've seen Robert," blurted out George.
"Where?" demanded Frank.
Hal rapidly told all that was known about the unfor-
tunate son of the Captain.
"That still further complicates matters." said Frank.
The anxious, strained look in the boy's face made Har-
old grave at once.
"There's something serious, isn't there?" he asked.
"Yes, "-said Frank.
"Then let's hear it right away.
" Come over here."
The three boys went and sat on a rock, and Frank
opened the story of his troubles.
CHAPTER XXIV.
A COWARDLY PLOT.
"I SUPPOSE," he said, " I needn't tell you fellows that
I wasn't particularly happy when you cleared for action
the other day."
;1 No, Frank." said Harold ; " we thought about you."
"I'm sure you did," said Frank.
"But," exclaimed George, "it must have been a little
consolation to you to know that none of our class are
aboard the New York."
" But there are cadets there," declared Frank; " Wat-
kins and Glenn and Carver — fellows we knew well at the
Academy. Do you think I'd have felt like starting a
70-pound shell in their direction?"
"No, of course not," said Harold, warmly. " George,
don't speak so hastily."
" Besides," continued Frank, with great emotion, "do
you think I couldn't see the flag at her taffrail? A fellow
doesn't feel much like turning against the flag which four
years of his life have taught him to reverence."
The three boys were silent for a few moments, and then
Frank continued, " But I didn't wigwag you to come
ashore to tell you what oughtn't to be any news to you."
" No," replied Hal; " but I would like to ask you one
question about that affair."
"What is it?"
" What did you intend to do that day?"
Frank paused a few seconds before lie answered, with
much solemnity, "Get myself wounded, if exposure to
fire would do it."
"Oh, I say, old man !" exclaimed George, in a shocked
tone.
"You'd have done the same thing if you'd been in my
place," said Frank, earnestly.
"But fortunately for us all," said Harold, soothingly,
" nothing came of the demonstration."
"No," replied Frank; "the kind of fighting that our
Admiral saw in your Admiral's eye was something we're
not accustomed to down here."
Again the three were silent for a few seconds, and then
Frank said,
"As soon as the thing was over, and we had returned
to our anchorage, I went straight to the old man, and
asked leave to resign from the service."
"And what did he say?" asked George.
" He laughed at me," answered Frank. " He refused
to listen to any such proposition. I tried to make him
understand my feelings, but he was inflexible. He said
that there could not by any possibility be any further
collision between us and the United States fleet. I told
him I was sick of the whole business anyhow, but he said
that was no reason at all. Others were sick of it, too;
but he had never known any service in which there was
not discontent. He met all further argument on my
part by a cold declaration that he would not accept my
resignation, and that any attempt at desertion would be
treated according to the usages of war."
" The old brute!" exclaimed George.
220
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
PS
HE MADE THE SIGNAL HALF A DOZEN TIMES IN VAIN
"I answered that I had no idea of deserting; that I
felt myself in honor bound, as he would not release me,
to serve my time out."
" There doesn't seem to be any help for it," said Harold.
" But he has no faith in my honor," said Frank.
"What makes you think so?" asked Hal.
"I can see that I am watched most of the time," re-
sponded Frank; "and they don't allow me to get out of
sight. This trip ashore was permitted only because they
know I'm with a boatload of men, and they don't think
I can escape from the island."
" But Bennos?" queried Hal.
"Oh, I think he understands me," answered Frank;
" he does not think I would desert."
" I'm glad of that," said George. " I took quite a fancy
to that fellow. And we may need his help."
"How?" said Frank.
"Never mind that now," said Hal. ' Tell me first
why the Aquidaban is likely to go out at any time."
"There is a report that the government cruiser Nic-
theroy has been seen not far up the coast, and is coining
down here. We intend to meetand engage her outside."
"My!" exclaimed George; "then there will be a big
fight."
" Yes," said Frank; " but she has not made her appear-
ance yet. Nevertheless, we are likely to up anchor and
go out at any moment. And that's why I consider my-
self so lucky to catch you to-day. I don't know how I
should ever have managed to communicate with you,
and you were my only hope."
" Your only hope? What do you mean?" asked Hal.
" It is of vital importance that I get a message to my
uncle, Captain Lock wood," said Frank.
"Too bad you didn't catch us when we were going
ashore," said George.
"Yes, we could have delivered it, of course," added Hal.
" My uncle must be warned somehow to keep his wea-
ther-eye lifting, because they're brewing trouble for him."
" Who?"
"Our people — the insurgents. I
overheard a conversation aboard the
Aquiclabnn this morning."
"What was it?"
"I knmv a heap more about their lin-
go now than they think I do," said
Frank, " or they would have been more
careful. What I made out was that
there's a scheme afoot to scuttle the
Alma at her wharf to-morrow night."
Harold and George looked horrified.
"To scuttle her!" exclaimed Hal.
" Why, Frank," declared George,
" that's not warfare ; that's rank piracy."
"It's a piece of contemptible coward-
ice," said Frank. hotly ; " but it's worthy
of the rebels. Mind you. it's not to be
done by any of the people in the fleet.
They're a deal too careful of their pre-
cious hides to venture ashore. It's to
be done by some agent of theirs in the.
city."
" Then we must not lose any time,"
said George, rising.
" Wait a moment," said Hal. "Pe-
ter, come up here."
The cockswain left the boat and ap-
proached the cadets. Hal repeated
Frank's story to him.
"Do you think we could get permis-
sion to go ashore again to warn Captain
Lock wood?"
" Waal, sir, I should say as how we
could, cos w'y; we're here to per tec t
American interests, an' if them isn't they, wot are?"
"Good; we'll try it. Meantime this is what we need
of Bennos," said Hal, speaking rapidly and decidedly.
"He must find out for you where Bob is, and you must
tell us."
"Suppose he doesn't know."
"Then you can't help us. Anyhow, the bark must be
saved first," said Hal.
"How am I to get word to you?" asked Frank.
" Beggiii' yer pardon, sir," said Peter, "an' I kin give
a plan."
" Go ahead."
" Write yer news an' put it into a bottle. Werry
good. W'en you sees our boat a-leavin' the ship you
chucks the bottle overboard, an' it drifts down to where
we picks it up, sir."
"That might work," said Frank.
" We must try it," said Hal.
The friends now separated, the cadets hastening back to
the Detroit. They had no serious difficulty in obtaining
permission to go ashore again to warn Captain Lock-
wood. But they looked in vain for the bottle which
Frank was to throw overboard. If they had reflected
they would have known that they had not given him
time enough to accomplish his purpose. Filled with disap-
pointment, they made the best of their way to the Alma.
To their dismay they learned that Captain Lock wood
and his daughter were ashore. So were the mates.
" Here's a go," said Hal. " No use telling the sailors."
" We might leave a note," said George.
"No," said Hal; " you know Captain Lockwood would
only laugh at it, and think we were easily frightened."
"Then we must wait till to-morrow," said George.
"The plot is not to be put into execution till to-morrow
night, you know."
"And in the mean time \ve may hear from Frank,"
said Hal.
They returned to their boat, and started back to the
JANUARY 22, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
221
Detroit. When they were at a point directly to the
south ward of the Aqiiidaban's anchorage Peter cried:
"There she blows! I mean there she floats— the bot-
tle, sir."
In another minute they were alongside of it, and had it
aboard.
''My cousin," said Frank's note, "is said to be con-
fined in the house of a rebel sympathizer named Miguel
Santos, on the great northern road, four miles beyond the
city. I enclose chart of the location. But my informant
is not sure that he is there. He is condemned to be shot."
" We must get off for the whole day to-morrow morn-
ing, and search for the boy first," said Hal.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
PATIENCE RAWLINS'S HEROISM.
A STORY OF THE INDIAN WARS.
BY JAMES OTIS.
fourth French and Indian war was declared in due
I form at Boston, Massachusetts, and Portsmouth, New
Hampshire, July 25, 1722, and the first appearance of the
enemy in New Hampshire was at Dover, where Joseph
Ham was killed and his three children taken prisoners.
The second victim was Tristram Heard, and then came
the attack on the settlement at Lamprey River Landing,
near Newmarket, August 29th, when Patience Rawliiis,
a girl only twelve years of age, gave her life in the liepe of
saving those whom she loved.
In this settlement were four "garrisoned houses," so
called because they had been built with especial reference
to resisting an attack from the Indians. The remainder
of the dwellings were ordinary log buildings stoutly made,
but not calculated to hold in check any considerable num-
ber of savages.
After the war had been declared, it was customary for
the inhabitants of the little village to seek shelter in the
"block-houses " during the night, leaving their own homes
to the mercy of any hostiles who might pass that way.
Nearly a year elapsed since the " Three Years' War "
began, and the dwellers at Lamprey River Landing had
grown careless in their immunity from an attack. Dur-
ing two months prior to this 29th of August, Aaron Raw-
lins and his brother Samuel, both of whom lived on the
outskirts of the settlement, had neglected to take any pre-
cautions for the safety of their families after nightfall,
owing to the annoyance and trouble of moving back and
forth every twenty-four hours.
Aaron's household consisted of himself, his wife, Pa-
tience, a girl twelve years, Thomas, a boy of eight, and
Mary, two years younger.
This day had been exceedingly warm, and as the shad-
ows of evening began to lengthen the members of the
family were seated on the broad stone which served as a
step to the door, when Jethro Nock, who lived two miles
further down the river, came up. looking anxious and ex-
cited. " \Vliv are you here?" he asked, sharply, and Mr.
Rawlins replied, laughingly,
"Because we are at home, which is better than having
a two-mile pull in a boat, as you must take before supper."
" Did you know your brother Samuel had gone to the
block-house?"
" What has startled Sam now? He always was a tim-
orous man, and during the past year has spent fully a
third of his time moving to and fro, seeking shelter from
savages who never come."
"This time, friend Rawlins, they are reported to be
"FIRE AT THE FIRST TOFT OF FEATHERS YOU SEE," MR. RAWLINS SAID, HOARSELY.
222
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
close at hand, and it behooves you to follow Samuel's ex-
ample. I shall take my little ones into the settlement,
even though I am forced to travel all night."
" But where are the savages?"
"Have you not learned of the murder of Tristram
Heard?"
" That was done two weeks ago, and the miscreants are
in Canada again long before this."
" It is said a party of eighteen have been seen near the
settlement, and —
" I have heard such rumors before, Friend Nock; but
110 harm has come to me or mine as yet."
"Be not overconfident. The cautious man is he who
sees danger in every bush —
" And thereby loses much time looking for it, when he
had better be tilling the not-overgenerous soil."
The kindly intentioned neighbor, who had walked half
a mile out of his direct course in order to warn his friend,
made no reply, but hurried on, fearful lest some harm
should already have come to his loved ones.
Mrs. Rawlins was not as bold as her husband, and Mr.
Nock had no sooner disappeared among the trees than
she called the children into the house, where she made
certain the windows were fastened as securely as was
possible.
Half an hour later her husband followed, and the dwell-
ing was being closed for the night, when the good woman
remembered that some yarn which had been taken from
the dye-pot that morning was yet hanging on the bushes
at the front of the house.
"Wait until I bring it, Aaron," she said, as her hus-
band was putting in place the heavy wooden bar which
served as lock.
Thomas and Mary, who had been frightened by the
words of Mr. Nock, followed her, believing there could be
no place where safety was more assured than with their
mother.
Patience was making ready the rude bed in which she
and Mary slept, when she was startled by seeing her fa-
ther, who had been standing in the doorway watching
his wife's movements, suddenly spring back into the
room and bar the door hurriedly.
"Why, father," she cried, " mother and the children
are —
"The Indians have come, nay child! I have been a
fool in my fancied securiiy, and now our lives will pay
the forfeit !"
"But mother—
"She and the children are already in the hands of the
enemy. Even as I looked after them they were each
seized by two savages, who covered their mouths to pre-
vent an alarm being given, and dragged them within the
shelter of the bushes."
"Then we must go to their aid!" and Patience hastily
took down one of the two guns which hung, loaded and
primed, above the fireplace.
"You will need the rifle, my daughter; but we could
do no more for your poor mother and the babies than to
die with them if we went out;" and Mr. Rawlius spoke in
a tone of despair.
" Are we to make no effort to save them?"
" All we can do is to hold the house against the enemy,
making the best defence God permits. By so doing the
neighbors will be alarmed, and there are enough men in
the settlement to overpower the savages, if it happily l>e
that but eighteen are in the party, as Jethro Nock stated.
It is our only hope of aiding them, Patience, and this
night you must be as a son to me."
" I can use the rifle, father, and if in so doing I am help-
ing our dear ones, I shall be willing to die with it in my
hands."
It is more than probable that Aaron Rawlins under-
stood fully how vain would be their efforts at holding
the enemy in check; but he had good reason to believe
his neighbors would hasten to the rescue immediately on
hearing the reports of the weapons.
Believing she would be assisting those whom she loved
so dearly by making the most spirited defence possible,
Patience, her face colorless and with a nervous tremor of
the hands which could not at first be repressed, went to
the window at the front of the house, through the shutter
of which small apertures had been cut.
"Fire at the first tuft of feathers you see," Mr. Raw-
lins said, hoarsely, as he took his station at the door,
"and God grant that you don't waste a bullet, for our
supply is all too small for our necessities."
The child realized that she must conquer the fever of
fear which had seized upon her if she would aid the
loved ones, and the rifle was lowered for an instant as
she breathed a prayer, not in her own behalf, but for
those in the power of an enemy who knew no mercy.
When she raised her weapon to the loop-hole again
her hands were steady ; the nervous tremor had disap-
peared nevermore to return.
Peering eagerly into the thicket, which was now dim
and shadowy in the gloom of the evening, she saw a
moving object which at any other time would have been
mistaken for a bird.
The weapon was discharged, and a sudden movement
of the foliage told that the first bullet had not been wasted.
"Well done, Patience!" her father cried, hoarsely.
" The alarm has been given, and the neighbors must soon
come to the rescue."
" If they succeed in freeing mother and the children
it will be enough. If I could only give myself up in
their stead !"
"You are doing all that is possible, my darling girl,
and between us we shall keep the fiends in check till aid
can come. They are not so brave that they will come
out in fair battle, and we should be able to hold our
house against them, at least, until the ammunition is ex-
hausted."
During the succeeding quarter of an hour the defend-
ers of the building had but little opportunity for conver-
sation. The savages were drawing nearer and nearer
the doomed dwelling, and both the brave ones were fully
occupied. Patience had discharged her weapon until
the barrel was so hot as to burn her slender fingers, and
she was obliged to cool it as best she could with water.
Half an hour passed; the attack was being made with
more vigor; the rattle of fire-arms should have been
heard a mile away, but yet the hoped-for assistance failed
to arrive.
"The men in the block -house must have heard the
noise, father," Patience said in a tremulous voice.
"They think the enemy is here in larger force than
really is the case, and are afraid to venture out. When
your rifle is cool, give it to me, and take mine. It is
growing so dark that I haven't seen my target fairly
since the last ten minutes."
Reloading her weapon, Patience gave it to her father,
receiving his in exchange. She was yet busily engaged
pouring water into the heated barrel, when a cry of
anguish caused her to look up just as her father fell to
the floor, the blood gushing from his lips. Through the
crevices between the logs a bullet had found its way,
wounding him unto death. Springing to his side she
did her feeble best to raise his head; but he motioned
her away, saying as lie did so,
"Your place is at the loop-hole, my darling. It is to
save your own life that you must hold the house now;
mine is nearly gone."
Patience hardly understood what he had said; the'
thought had suddenly come to her that unless a vigorous
defence was continued her mother might be exposed to
yet more danger, and she took her father's station at
JANUARY 22, 1895.
HARPEK'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
223
the door. Five times did she discharge the weapon at
shadowy forms which could be seen darting to and fro
amid the shrubbery, and then came a violent concussion
which literally shook the building. Well did she know
the meaning of that shock. The enemy had felled a
tree, and was using it to batter down the door. Forsak-
ing her post of duty for an instant she ran to where her
father lay, kissed his blood-stained lips, and whispered,
"God love and keep you!"
Then her weapon was discharged once more; but it
was for the last time. Another blow on the already
splintered door, and through the opening thus made a
host of painted, howling savages burst in. The little
heroine barred their passage for an instant, and then she
•was stricken down without pity.
Patience Rawlins had given her life in vain for her
loved ones.
The savages, in too great haste to destroy the building,
rushed forth to attack the home of Samuel Rawlius.
This, fortunately, they found deserted, and with their
captives they beat a hasty retreat, probably fearing the
members of the garrisoned houses would sally out to give
them battle.
Meanwhile those in the fortified buildings awaited an
attack. It was believed, from the rapid discharge of mus-
ketry during the assault in which Patience was mur-
dered, that the enemy were present in very large force,
and among them all was no man so brave as the twelve-
year-old girl, since not one attempted to aid his suffering
neighbor.
At break of day, when it was positive the enemy had
fled, the inhabitants of the block-house ventured forth,
and found Mr. Rawlins yet alive, despite his grievous
wounds. He lived sufficiently long to tell the story
which is here set down so feebly, and then his soul went
out to join the heroic daughter's.
Four years later, when the flowers were blooming-
above the graves which alone marked the site of Aaron
Rawlins's home, the mother returned. She had been
ransomed by some charitable people of Montreal, and
•came back eagerly anticipating a meeting with her hus-
band and child.
Thomas, the son who had been captured, was adopted
by the Indians and the historian Jeremy Belknap says:
"He lived with them all his days; he came to Penny-
cook with the Indians after the peace, and expressed to
some people with whom he conversed much resentment
against his uncle, Samuel Rawlins, on supposing he had
detained from his mother some property left by his father,
but manifested no desire of returning to Newmarket
again. The daughter (Mary) married with a Frenchman,
and when she was near sixty years old returned with her
husband to her native place. . . and after a year or two
went back to Canada."
ENVELOPE PHOTOG KAPH-FRAMES.
IF you are — and who isn't? — bothered to know what to make
for birthday presents, here are some suggestions that can be
quickly and easily carried out.
A fifteen-cent bottle of gold enamel, a bolt of daisy ribbou,
and a package of envelopes will supply material for gifts to
each member of the family; or if the household should tiud this
plan somewhat monotonous, your girl friends will prove more
appreciative. Indeed, nothing could be prettier or more appro-
priate to a girl's room than a panel of white and gold framing
fresh young faces, or a screen in two or three sections decora-
ted with dogroses, lilacs, marguerites, etc., and enclosing copies
of good paintings.
Slip into au envelope a bit of card-board to hold the paper
steady. Trace with a peucil in the middle of the envelope a
square, oval, or circle large enough to show the photograph
well. Draw two lines diagonally through this so that they
cross each other in the middle like the letter X.
Insert a pair of sharp pointed scissors at the point where the
lines cross and cut aloug the pencil marks so that you have
four pointed flaps. Turn these back, 'creasing them lightly in
position around the four sides of the opening. Nick the edges
of the flaps very slightly — just enough to yive a rough appear-
ance— and gild them all over.
Dab gold enamel about the envelope ill a systematically care-
less fashion, or paint a flower design and simply dabble the
edges with gold.
For a panel tie together, lengthwise, anywhere from four to
six envelopes, using daisy rihbou for the purpose. For cabinet
picture-frames No. 1£ ribbon is best; for smaller envelopes, No.
1 is sufficiently wide.
Slip the photographs in, and seal the envelopes as you would
over a letter.
These fragile-looking frames are really very durable, lasting
quite as long as the colors of (lie pictures they enclose. By
usinj; envelopes of different sizes, and rolling the centres back
round, square, or oblong, a variety of shapes and styles can be
produced; and of course any shade of ribbon is pretty — blue for
forget-me-nots, pink for wild roses, lavender with violets, and
delicate green with marguerites. Where only decorated with
gold, however, cream white is most effective. The panels may be
linished at the top with small brass rings and ribbon wound
through them, or with either alone, to hang them up by.
THE STKANGE
ADVENTURES
TODDLES.
OF TOMMY
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTER VI.
THIS was an easy matter this time, because there was the
Welsh Rabbit there to talk about. Tommy looked at the
strange creature and SKI id,
" Is he poor too ?"
The ex-Pirate laughed out loud. " No," he replied ; " he's very
rich. He is one of the richest things I know."
"Then he does not live here ?" continued Tommy, pointing
toward the Poor House.
"No, indeed. He has a stock farm down the road, where he
raises all sorts of queer animals. He comes here occasionally to
give us things."
"What does he give you ?"
"He usually gives me a night man-." answered the ex-Pirate.
"A night mare ?"
"Yes; he raises them on his stock farm."
Tommy was about, to ask what sort of an animal a night mare
was but the Welsh Rabbit had come so close to them by this
time that his two companions turned toward the visitor and
wished him good-day most cordially.
"Good-night, "replied the Welsh Rabbit, bluntly.
"But it is not night," said Tommy: whereupon the Sheep
pulled his coat sleeve abruptly, and whispered :
"Don't talk like that. The Welsh Rabbit, wants to be polite.
He does not often wish one 'good night.' Say something nice- to
him now."
224
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
THE WELSH RABBIT LAUGHED UNTIL THE CHEESE OF HIS BACK FAIRLY BUBBLED.
Tommy couldn't think of anything particularly polite to say
right on the spur of tlie moment, so he naturally spoke of what
was uppermost in his mind:
" Have you seen my animals. Sir. Welsh Rabbit f"
" No, I have not," answered the Welsh Rabbit. "Have you
seen mine ?"
"No; have you lost yours?"
"No, indeed!" and the Welsh Rabbit laughed until the cheese
of his back fairly bubbled over with mirth. " Would you like to
see my animals ?"
"I don't know," replied Tommy, for the Sheep was tugging
at his coat sleeve again. " What are they like ?''
" I can show yon all kinds," answered the Welsh Rabbit, pat-
ronizingly. " There are green monkeys with pink tails, yellow
rats with purple eyes, cerulean dragons with crimson claws,
and blue elephants with five legs and lavender tails."
"Oh in}1!" gasped Tommy; "but I never heard of any s'.'.ch ani-
mals as those. I don't think I want to see them, but you were
very kind to offer to show them to me."
"Don't mention it, ''replied the Welsh Rabbit, waving his toast
ears lazily ; " I will show them to you some other day, whether
you want to see them or not."
Tommy did not quite understand how this would happen, but
he did not say anything, because the Sheep was persistently
pulling at his coat sleeve. Both he and the ex-Pirate seemed to
be very much in awe of the Welsh Rabbit, who appeared to
Tommy like such a mild and good-natured creature.
The Reformed Burglar had now almost finished painting the
side of the Poor House, and he came up and joined the others.
" How do you like that color ?" he asked of the Welsh Rabbit.
"What color?"
" The color of this side of the house."
"It reminds me of tomato catsup," said the Welsh Rabbit,
after having glanced at the red side of the Poor House. "And
you know I don't like tomato catsup.''
''I think you will agree with me when I say that the house
should have been painted black," put in the ex-Pirate.
" Xii, indeed," said the Welsh Rabbit ; " I disagree with you."
'• You always do," retorted the ex-Pirate, with unexpected as-
perity.
"Especially at night," added the Reformed Burglar, and then
it began to look as if something serious was going to happen.
But fortunately the Welsh Rabbit merely waved his toast ears
a bit, and then waddled off clown the road without saying a
word of farewell to any of them.
"He's that, way," said the ex-Pirate to Tommy, iu the same
apologetic tone he had formerly used with regard to the Re-
formed Burglar. "Sometimes he's right agreeable, and some-
times he's right disagreeable. He's mostly disagreeable.''
Tommy watched the Welsh Rabbit as he
ambled off toward the shore of the lake, like
a huge yellow ball, leaving a savory odor
of cheese behind him. When the queer
creature finally disappeared among the trees,
the little boy turned to the others:
"What peculiar animals he must have!"
he said.
"Very peculiar sometimes," remarked the
Reformed Burglar.
" Where does he keep them ?"
"On his farm," said the ex-Pirate.
"I'd like to see them," ventured Tommy.
" You will some day."
"I never heard of a blue elephant with
five legs and a lavender tail," continued the
little boy. " Has he got many of those ?"
"No; most of his animals are bug-bears.
But he has a lot of night mares, and he
gives them to lots of people."
" Would he give me a night mare ?" asked
Tommy.
"I reckon he would," said the Reformed
Burglar, with a broad smile, for he seemed
to be 'enjoy ing the little boy's questions im-
mensely. "But I don't think you would
like it."
"I don't think you would either," added
the Sheep.
"Perhaps 'I wouldn't" said Tommy,
thoughtfully; "but I would like to have
my own animals. Have you seen them pass
this way, Mr. Pirate ?"
"No animals have passed this way to-day," answered the ex-
Pirate, " but we can go up on the hill and look around, and from
there perhaps we can see where they are."
" That's so !" exclaimed the Sheep ; " I never thought of that.
Let's go up on the hill."
" I would like very much to go with you," said the ex-Pirate,
meekly.
" All right, come along," answered Tommy. " And won't you
come too, Mr. Bill ?" he added, turning to the Reformed Burglar.
"No; I can't. I must paint. But I think I can guess where
your animals went to."
" Where ?" asked Tommy, eagerly.
"I guess they went to the fight. All the other animals went.
That's why you don't see any about here."
" But we saw the Loon and the Welsh Rabbit," objected
Tommy.
"Oh, they don't count," put in the ex-Pirate. "The Loon is
crazy and don't know what is going on, and the Welsh Rabbit
never attends fights. He's too soft."
"I did not know the fight was to be to-day," remarked the
Sheep, iu a tone of surprise.
" Certainly, it's to be to-day," asserted the Reformed Burglar.
"But it's probably all over with by this time."
•' Well, let's go to the hill anyway," said the ex-Pirate. " From
the summit we can see as far as the beach, and we can easily
tell if there are any animals there."
So they bade good-by to the Reformed Burglar, \\lio returned
to his pots and brushes, and Tommy, the ex-Pirate, and the
Sheep started off on the road which led to the hill.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
MADGE'S FIB.
"I NEVER told a fib but once," said little Madge, "and that
was yesterday."
"What? Yon told a fib?"
" Yes. My teacher asked me what C'-A-T spelled, and I said
dorg."
EXPLAINED.
" WHAT on earth are you doing with that little watering can,
Tom
" Spwiukliug the baby's head so's his hair '11 sprout.'1
AN EXPLANATION.
" WHY didn't you answer .\ our teacher when she spoke to you
ill the arithmetic class, Ethel ?"
••'('»•/. mamma told me I muthu't thpeak duriu' thehool
hourth."
_HARPE
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1895, by HAHPKK & BaoTHKas. All Rigbts Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 796.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JANUARY 29, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLAKS A TEAR.
THE LOOHINQ FALLS AIR=LINE EXPRESS.
BY JAMES BARNES.
TM1E president of the Monckton Bank sat at his office
window looking out into the storm. It was not
blowing as hard as it had been earlier in the day, but the
drifts were piled up on the east side of the street on a
level with the windows, and only the tops of the hitching
posts showed here and there to mark the sidewalk. It
was too cold for snow to fall now, but the wind blew the
tops of the curling drifts out into clouds of hissing icy
spray. The air was full of it; it showered against the
window before the president's eyes, and, owing to the
heat within the room, ran down in little wriggling
streams, freezing at the bottom into a mass of solid ice
that was slowly climbing the pane. In a few min-
utes the president would not be able to look at the ghost-
ly trees in the little park before the building.
226
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
Not a train had readied Monckton for eighteen hours;
the telegraph had reported monstrous drifts along the
railroad. The blizzard had killed all traffic. It was
strange that the wires were not all down, but the heavy
long-distance telephone line was still open, for the bell
rang suddenly, and the president hurried across the
room.
"Hullo! Is that you, George?" he asked, anxiously.
"How goes it?"
" Yes, it's I," came the answer, clear and plain, in the
president's ear. "The run has continued all day long
despite the storm ; the corridor of the court-house has been
full of people. It is rumored about the town that the
bank is going to fail. The Lumberman's Bank went up
at one o'clock."
"Well," said the president, "can you tide it over?"
" No," replied the voice, " we can't, to save our lives.
There is but two thousand dollars in the vaults. It is
past bank hours now, but in the morning, if the run con-
tinues, we will have to suspend. Can you reach us with
funds?"
The president groaned. It was his brother who was
•speaking to him — the cashier of the branch bank at
Looming Falls, sixty miles down the river. The failure
of one bank might mean ruin to both. There was rea-
son for the president to groan.
"The railroad is blocked," said the president, speaking
slowly into the receiver. "I have been hoping for a
train all day. We have enough money here to help
you," he added, hopelessly, "but what good is that?"
"Can't you drive through?" came the answer, in an
imploring tone.
"I doubt it; the road is bare in places, and drifted
breast-high in others," said the pale man at the tele-
phone. " But I will see what I can do. I will call you
up in fifteen minutes."
The president's voice had a tremble in it. There was
fright in his eyes.
He turned and opened the door leading into the bank.
It was growing quite dark, and a lamp was burning at a
desk inside the brass railings. Bending over the big
ledger was a tall, thin man, with a bald head and a pen
behind his ear. He looked up as the president entered,
and touched his bald head with an ink-stained finger.
"Any good news, Mr. Carter?" he asked, quickly.
"No, Spence; bad news, bad news," returned the old-
er man. " I don't see that we can help." Then he told
of the conversation over the telephone, word for word.
"It was most deplorable."
"Send for Prouty," suggested the bald-headed man.
" If any one can drive you through, he can do it."
" Go fetch him, Spence, and hurry back," said Mr. Car-
ter, with a gleam of hope. " But speak to no one else,"
he added. "We must not let a single person know."
The cashier picked up his coat, drew on his great
felt moccasins, and, unlocking the front door, strode out
through the drift into the street. The president of the
Monckton Bank climbed upon a high stool and swung
himself nervously to and fro. Just then a movement
near the large stove in the back of the room made him
spin about. He coughed nervously.
"Hullo, Adam, "he said, "you here yet?"
"Yes, Mr. Carter," answered a strong young voice.
"I've been helping Mr. Spence on the books to-day, sir."
A tall, compactly built lad of fifteen stood up as Mr.
Carter walked back toward the stove, and waited for the
president to speak. But the latter said nothing, and only
extended his hands towards the fire as if he felt the cold
wind that was rattling the heavy iron shutters. The boy
sat down again and followed a column of figures with
his finger.
Adam Buel had come into the bank as an office-boy
some three years previously, and by hard work and con-
stant application he had risen to be a junior clerk, an
excellent position for one of his years and short experi-
ence. He was the second son. of Buel the carpenter,
down on River Street, and his father was prone to boast
of "my son up to the bank," and considered that, next
to the huge safe, he was the most important part of
Monckton's banking interests.
Mr. Carter had never noticed him especially, regard-
ing him as a good lad who was steady and could be
trusted. But it was only right to expect this much, he
reasoned, from one in his employ. So he said nothing,
but stood there with his hands behind his back awaiting
Spence's return, watching the door closely, and glancing
at the clock now and then, for every minute counted.
Soon the latch clicked loudly, and Adam, jumping up,
admitted the cashier and a burly figure in a buffalo over-
coat. The two brought in with them a blast of chilling
air. When the door wa's shut they both stamped loudly
on the floor, kicking the snow from their feet and brush-
ing it off their coat sleeves.
"Prouty," said Mr. Carter, advancing, and coming to
the point at once, "can you drive through to Looming
Falls to-night?"
"To Looming Falls! yer joking, ain't yer?" the driver
exclaimed in a thick voice, leaning one heavy hand on
the brass lattice-work of the paying-teller's cage. " 'Tain't
no use attempting it; ye couldn't do it, no horses could
do it, no man could do it. No, sir! I tell ye what's
fact," he went on. "Not all th' money in this bank "-
here Mr. Prouty waved one great arm around his head —
"could get ye to the Falls 'fore they mended the bridge.
It come down 'bout one o'clock, and it'd take a hull day
ter break through t'other side o' Hank Morris; he come
in on snowshoes this arternoon."
It was useless to talk further, although Prouty was
willing to be voluble enough, and continued to explain,
so Mr. Carter went slowly back into his private office,
and. paler than ever, walked up to the telephone. Once,
twice, three times, he tried the bell, then he hung up the
receiver — the connection was broken. A feeling of hope-
lessness came over him, and he threw himself into his
big leather chair. Nothing could be done. The failure
of the Lumberman's Bank would only hasten matters.
People grow distrustful quickly; he doubted really if he
could meet a run of the Monckton depositors here at
home if they became uneasy; there was no telling what
might happen; he had paid out large sums to the lumber
companies for their monthly pay-roll two days before,
and had made two or three big loans that were safe
enough, only in this weather, with the roads snowed up,
he could get no money in. There was nothing for
him to do but sit there and wait; he could not even
speak about it and try to head it off. Luckily no one
could learn for some time of the turn of affairs at Loom-
ing Falls. If he could save the branch bank the ruin
might be averted. But —
As the president raised his head he saw that some one
had entered the room. It was Adam Buel. He stood
there respectfully, then he took a step nearer.
"Mr. Carter," he said, "I think I can get you to
Looming Falls to-night."
II.
At nine o'clock it was yet blowing strong from the
northwest, the thermometer showed the appalling cold
to be twelve below zero, the snow was yet swirling about
the corners and clinging to trunks of the trees in the
little park. No one was 011 the street, but the moon was
up and the dark blue of the sky sparkled with its host of
stars.
The two watchmen of Monckton had found a warm
corner in the engine-room of the new electric-light plant,
but if they had been where they could see the rear entrance
JANUARY 29, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
227
of the bank building, they would have been astonished.
Four figures muffled to the eyes were carrying two heavy
travelling-bags down the back steps and out into the
yard. A few minutes later three figures emerged from
the alleyway into the street; they were pulling behind
them two strongly built baud sleds. The fourth figure
had gone back into the building and locked the door
behind him. On the two sleds were the travelling-bags
securely tied. The snow crunched and whistled under
their feet as the three fought their way against the wind
down towards the river.
" Where have you got her, Amos ?" gasped the small-
est, turning his back to the wind.
"Down behind the boat-house," came the answer.
"We'll be there in five minutes." They plunged along
without speaking for some time.
"Phew! look at that, Adam," suddenly exclaimed a
voice; the third and largest figure stopped. Just as
they had turned the corner the river had cotne in sight.
There it lay in the moonlight, black gleaming ice, here
and there crossed by a drift of glistening snow. The ice
spray blew down its length in clouds like smoke as the
wind puffs struck the drifts.
"Boys, it's blowing out there," went on the last
speaker. "Do you think we'd better try it?"
"I think we can do it, Mr. Carter," spoke up Amos
Buel, Adam's older brother. " The ice would almost
hold a horse this afternoon, and it's growing thicker
every minute."
The trio crossed River Street, and half slid down the
bank to the edge of the retaining wall. A few rods to
the north was a stone pier that extended from the shore,
and in the lee of the building that occupied one side- was
a strange spidery-looking craft tied to a pier head. It
was the first and at that time the only one of its kind in
Monckton.
"Amos built it after one he saw on the Hudson when
he went East last winter," said Adam to Mr. Carter.
" He can handle her all right."
Amos, although only seventeen, was a carpenter like
his father, but he had given "more attention to making
gimcracks than shingling roofs," as the elder Buel had
once expressed it. This ice-boat was the latest, and as if
to make true the paternal saying he had named her the
Jimcrack.
" Ever been out in a blow like this, Amos?" anxiously
inquired Mr. Carter, as the boys were tying the bags and
sleds also tight to the little platform near the tiller that
answered the purpose of a deck.
" No, sir," promptly answered the older boy, "but the
wind is just right for going down the river. I think it's
safe enough. We'll reef down tight."
Mr. Carter noticed that two pairs of skates were lashed
to a bolt at the stern. He made no remark, however,
for at this moment the sail was raised, and Amos had
made his way aft and grasped the tiller. There was just
room for the three, together with the bags and sleds, on
the little platform. Mr. Carter looked at his watch.
"Lie close and hold hard!" shouted Amos, suddenly.
They had been creeping along slowly under the lee of
the long boat-house, but just as the shout of warning
came they struck the wind.
For an instant they slewed, then the little mainsail
caught, and they seemed to rise like a rocket. Probably
nothing in the world gets full speed on so quickly as an
ice-boat. Mr. Carter held his breath as they made
straight for the middle of the river. The starboard out-
rigger rose high in the air off the ice, and the heel of the
sharp steering -blade shrieked like a noonday whistle.
Faster and faster they went ; the wind seemed to be going
down somewhat as they got it more astern. A wide white
drift stretched ahead ; in a second they were on it. Paflf !
How the snow flew and shimmered in the moonlight!
The shock nearly took out the stout pine mast and slid
the crew of the Jimcrack up in a heap on the two sleds;
but they held on tightly and got safely through. What
house was that on shore, close to the edge of the dark
pines?
"There's Moore's!" shouted Amos. It was the first
time any one had spoken since the jump into the
gale.
Mr. Carter rolled over on one side and managed to
glance at his watch ; so bright was the moonlight that he
could make out the hands plainly. Two miles inside of three
minutes! — and the speed still on the gain, it seemed. On
and on, now slowing up a little and then shooting along
through a cloud of flying icy mist. They kept more to
the north side now, fearing the ice in the middle of the
river.
" Jimtown," called Adam. A few lights shone on the
bank.
Mr. Carter again looked at his watch. Thirty-two miles
in a fraction over forty-five minutes!
But now the course of the river changed a little, and
the wind was perceptibly lessening. Besides, the direc-
tion of the wind maikes a great difference in an ice-boat's
speed. The Jimcrack settled down to a steady gait of
about ten miles an hour, varied by sudden bursts of rapid
flight. It was two o'clock in the morning when they
struck Small's Point, eight miles on a straight line from
Looming Falls, but thirteen by the river, and here they
met trouble.
How it happened that Amos did not see the great log
that was frozen in the ice was never explained, but there
was a thump, a sharp snap, and the port runner broke
short off; one of the bags chinked oddly as the contents
of the platform were hurled in all directions. No one
was hurt, but there was no more sailing. The river for
a mile ahead was a mass of logs and drift. The boys
put on their skates, and managed to get the wreck ashore.
Then the struggle began ; for hours they floundered
through the deep snow in the woods trying to cross the
Point; they lost their way. and poor Mr. Carter was al-
most in despair when the river came in sight again. It
was broad daylight by this time, and five miles off they
could see the steeples and chimneys of the Falls. The
bank president, nearly dead from fatigue, was loaded on
Ainos's sled, while Adam drew the one with the heavy
bag. It is not every boy who has dragged thirteen thou-
sand dollars in gold and silver on an ordinary hand-sled,
but Adam did that day. The other bag held bills of large
denominations.
" We must hurry, "said Mr. Carter to the panting boys.
They skated faster.
There was a crowd waiting for the bank to open. In
a few minutes there would be a sign out announcing fail-
ure. The people were excited ; some had been in line
all night despite the cold, when the rescue party came up
the street.
" Where did you come from? How did you get here?"
gasped the cashier, as the boys dragged the sled right in
on the floor of the private office.
" By the Looming Falls Air-line Express," said Mr.
Carter. " Allow me to introduce you to the engineer,
fireman, president, treasurer, and board of directors."
He indicated the tired boys. "They both are depositors
to the extent of three hundred apiece, and this young
gentleman is our new paying-teller," went on the presi-
dent. "We just arrived in time. George."
"Yes," returned the cashier, "just in time." And he
held Amos and Adam by the hands for quite a min-
ute.
Now such a strange thing is human nature that when
the depositors found out that there was plenty of money
then they did not want it, and the run stopped at once.
The bank was saved.
228
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
AT THE BROWNIE PLAY.
BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.
IT really seemed almost too good to be true, and yet
it was true. Mr. Palmer Cox had written a play in
which real flesh-and-blood Brownies should appear and
sing funny songs, which Mr. Malcolm Douglas had set
to music, just as the newspapers said. And it was said
further, and with equal truth, that there were to be fairies
and dragons and giants, and all sorts of fairy-book crea-
tures iu the play besides— as if the Brownies alone weren't
enough for any reasonable child, and of course Master
Jimmieboy had to go and see the wonderful things the
fairies and Brownies and giants did. Such an oppor-
tunity to set his eyes on living Brownies, instead of as
usual upon pictures of them, might never occur again,
and to miss it would be most unfortunate; indeed, as Mr.
Cox himself might have written,
When there's to be a Brownie play,
What boy would wish to stay away ?
What boy of sense would say, " Oh no !
I do not think I'd care to go?"
Certainly Jimmieboy was not such a lad, and the con-
sequence was that his father had very little peace until
he had not only consented that Jimmieboy should go,
but had promised to go along himself to protect his son
in case any of the dragons or giants should get loose, and
try to jump down in the audience and breathe fire on
Jimmieboy's new clothes, or bite his leg off. Not that
this was at all likely to happen, but that it is well always
to be prepared for all sorts of accidents, and especially
for those you'd least expect. The little Dude Brownie
has never said it, but he would probably agree
that it would be a dreadful thing
If some great fiery dragon king,
When some small boy should laugh or scoff,
Should bite his left leg wholly off,
and Jimmieboy for that reason thought it just as well to
have a defender like his father along, who could be
counted upon
To take the dragon by the feet
And cast him out upon the street,
Or grab the giant by the hair
And toss him high up in the air,
In case they had a fit of rage,
And took a leap down off the stage
To punish boys who'd laugh and hoot
By breathing on their Sunday suit.
He didn't know that Mr. Cox had fixed all that by
writing such a play, that in the end the Brownies and the
good fairies could control the giants and dragons so that
"HONEST INJUN."
THE ARRIVAL OF THE KING OF THE BROIVMKS.
any little boy or girl in
the audience could say or
do anything- he or she
pleased in perfect safety.
His father kne\v it, how-
ever, and so was quite
willing to go and risk his
life to protect any one
or every one from any-
thing unpleasant that
might happen, so the two
got aboard an elevated
train and went down to
Fourteenth Street, made
their way through the
great crowd of shoppers,
and entered the theatre
where the Brownies were
to be seen.
While Jimmieboy's fa-
ther was buying the
tickets, Jimmieboy stood
in a corner waiting, and
another little boy looked
at him very curiously for
a minute as he stood
there, and then turning
to his mother, he cried
out, in a little piping
voice,
"Say, mar, I guess that's one of 'em. ain't it?"
And then everybody laughed, but Jimmieboy didn't
know what at, for though he looks in the looking-glass
quite frequently, it lias never yet occurred to him that
with his sparkling little black eyes and dark-complexioned
cheeks and slender little legs, he doesn't look unlike one
of Mr. Cox's funny little people himself.
Fortunately the seats his father got were away down
in front, where the music sounded beautiful and loud, and
in the one or two rows before them there were only little
people who hadn't very big hats on, so that Jimmieboy
could see perfectly, particularly after his father had built
up his seat with an overcoat, a pea-jacket, three or four
programmes, and a package of books he had with him.
After they were seated Jimmieboy spent the time before
the rising of the curtain looking about him, and there
were Brownies — painted ones — everywhere. Up and
down the sides of the beautiful gold frame of the stage
were Uncle Sams and policemen, and running all around
the balcony rail were the other funny little folk that had
given Jimmieboy so much pleasure by their antics in the
pictures, only here they were quite as large as Jimmie-
boy himself. And then when he had gazed at them he
noticed a lot of little electric bells placed about three feet
apart hanging from the bottom of the balcony, and he
wondered what they were for, arid he asked his papa, and
his papa shook his head very wisely, and told him to wait
and see— for, between you and me, he didn't know, which
he never likes to confess to Jimmieboy, because it would
be an intense disappointment to him to discover that his
father didn't know everything.
And then the music began, and all the little children
were delighted, it was so whistleable— if you know what
that means. Some music is grand, and requires a mag-
nificent organ or a splendid orchestra to play it properly,
and then again there is other music that only sounds well
when played on a piano, either by two persons, or by one
person who is smart enough to play a duet all by him-
self if he wanted to, but this music of Mr. Douglas's was
quite different from both of them. It was the kind that a
boy could whistle and enjoy, or that a little girl could
learn to play on a piano with one finger, and have other
little girls say it was so pretty and sweet, which is saying
JANUARY 29, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
229
a great deal in its favor, for it isn't an
easy thing by any means to write music
that boys will whistle and little girls
will want to play on the piano with one
finger, and Jimmieboy's father said that
Mr. Douglas ought to be proud of him-
self for having done it all so well, to
which Jimmieboy replied " that he guess-
ed he was, then, because grown-up people
generally do do what they ought to."
Then, when the orchestra had played
for four or five minutes, a little bell rang
and the curtain went up, and there stood
the court-yard of the Palace of Titania,
Queen of the Fairies. At the back of
the yard was a great wall shutting out
the sea beyond. To the right was the
iron gate which kept the enemies of the
fairies from entering, and scattered
through the court-yard were groups of
lovely fairies with gossamer wings, and
beautiful flowing garments, and pink
toes, and splendid soprano voices, with
which they sang a merry little chorus
about Titania's wedding-day, and how
the bells were so glad about it that they
kept going "ding-dong, ding-dong," all
the time. The fairies sang this as sweet-
ly as they knew how, and when they
had about finished, what should Jim-
mieboy see poking their funny little
heads over the wall but his friends the
Brownies, who had come to see their Prince Florimel,
the heir to the Brownie throne, marry the lovely Titania.
There was the Dude Brownie, here called J. Chappie
Good form; Inspector Clubbem, the Policeman Brownie
— who, the book says,
" With watchful eye and club in hand
Keeps order in the Brownie band "
—Sam Doodle Doo, Kraut Van Boom-Boom, Paddy Whack-
er, and Li Lo; and Hocus and Pocus, the twins, were
there too, accompanied by other Brownies of the drollest
kind. These, when they had made faces at everybody,
popped behind the wall again, and shortly after came
rollicking in through the iron gateway as happy and as
noisy as you please. Jimmieboy laughed so hard that
he fell off his seat, but he didn't mind that much, because
nine-tenths of the other children in the audience did the
same thing, which the Brownies seemed to wonder at very
much, because they sang their song, "A Happy Brownie
Band," with very solemn faces, as much as to say:
"Well! What funny things children are, to be sure!"
Then other strange
things happened, until the
orchestra began to play a
wedding march, in which
Jimmieboy found out what
the bells on the balconies
were for, for as the sweet
strains of the wedding
march came from the in-
struments the bells chimed
in, and as each bell sounded
a different note, they were
always in tune with the
music, and the whole the-
atre seemed to be filled with
sweet sounds. Then roses
began to fall from the sky,
and under a rain of flowers
in walked Prince Florimel
THE STUDENT BROWNIE. and the lovely Titania.
A DANCE BEFORE DRAGONFEL'S CASTLE.
Prince Florimel and Titania hardly have time to sing
a pretty song when there comes a great noise at the gate,
and the terrible Dragonfel, with his giant followers dis-
guised as friends and bearing magnificent gifts, demands
and receives admittance. The Brownies meanwhile are
cutting up all sorts of delightful pranks and dancing the
queerest dances and making the funniest faces imagina-
ble. The presents brought by Dragonfel and his fellow-
giants are all of gold, and about a hundred times too
large to be of any use to the bride and groom. They are
accepted with thanks, however, and their donors are in-
vited to enter the palace, which they do. Then there
arrives a large watermelon on a chariot drawn by a pair
of charming little ponies, and the Brownies fall all over
themselves with delight, as well they may, for in an in-
stant the watermelon divides itself into slices, and out of
the middle of it jumps the Brownie King, whose head
is so bald and slippery that the crown won't stay on it,
and who sings a most extraordinary song, and puts the
Brownie army through the strangest and most amusing
drill you ever saw in your life.
Then comes the fearful discovery that Titania has been
kidnapped and taken over the sea by Dragonfel, who does
not wish the Queen of the Fairies and the Prince of the
Brownies to be married, because by that marriage they
will become more powerful than he. The Brownies start
in pursuit. They board a raft, and a change of scene
shows them on the ocean being tossed up and down by a
very rough sea and confronted by a huge sea -monster,
into whose jaws they cast everything they can lay hands
on. While this is going on a terrible storm comes up,
and the Brownies appear to be in a very bad way, when.
as the story tells us, Euphrosyne, Goddess of Mirth, ap-
pears in answer to their prayers, with Neptune and his
sea-chariot. The God of the Sea quiets the turbulent
waters, and the Brownies proceed in safety.
By means of raft and air-ship they reach the Enchanted
Island, and find much to mystify them. The Brownies
hide in the outer halls of the castle, while their King and
some of his followers, disguised as a German street-band,
gain entrance to Dragon fel's mighty presence. At a fa-
230
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
vorable moment they make an attack on Dragonfel, and
are just about to conquer, when he calls 011 Vulcan to
bring earthquake and ruin. The castle falls in ruins,
the mountain becomes a volcano, and lava is seen pour-
ing' down its side to overwhelm and destroy the Brownies.
The Brownie fire department conies to the rescue.
Daylight finds the Brownies still in quest of the Queen ;
and as their power is gone with the rising sun they are
easily overcome by Dragonfel's followers, and are made
to slave and toil in the mines. Here they remain until
the Russian Brownie explodes a dynamite bomb with
which the peace of the whole band has been continually
threatened. The explosion causes a caving in of a rift
in which Dragonfel happens to be. And in the mean time
Euphrosyne has come to the rescue of the Queen and the
fays. Florimel and Titania are united, while the mines
gradually disappear, and a glorious night view of Brownie-
land is disclosed.
Jimmieboy was in a state of continuous laughter
throughout the whole performance, and particularly loud
did he laugh at the Brownies when they pretended to be
a German street-band; they were so droll, and played so
deliciously out of tune like a real German street-band.
And he was delighted with the glittering transformation
scenes, and the wonderful lady fairies who swung to and
fro in the air with all sorts of beautiful colored lights
shining on them. And when it was over he was quite as
sorry as the little girl who sat behind him, who said to
her mother,
" I wisht we lived here, mar."
" Why, my dear?" asked her mother.
"So's I could see it all the time. 'Coz I'd never, never,
never get tired of it."
Which I was not at all surprised to hear, for I think
that even I could see it many times without being in the
least wearied by it.
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE CADETS TO THE RESCUE.
AS soon as the boys reached the Detroit, Harold went
to Mr. Crane and told him the whole story.
"Now, sir," said the cadet, "I hope you'll allow Bris-
comb and me twenty-four hours ashore to warn Captain
Lockwood and to help him find his son. And I'd like
very much to have Cockswain Morris to go with us."
" I must talk to the Captain about this," was the reply.
Commander Brownson at once perceived that it was a
matter of which official notice could not be taken with-
out more definite information; yet to wait for that might
mean destruction to the Alma. He gave the desired per-
mission, and the Executive Officer ordered a boat to be in
readiness to take the three friends ashore immediately
after quarters the next morning. It was understood that
they were to return to the Detroit in one of the Alma's
* Beeun iu HARPER'S YOUNO PEOPI.K No. 78).
boats in twenty-four hours. As soon as they reached the
landing-place they went at once to the Alma. Captain
Lockwood was greatly agitated by the news which they
gave him.
"So they want to shoot my boy and razee the bark,
eh?" he exclaimed. " Well, by the great horn spoon! I
guess we'll beat them at both games. But I can't see
why they've put Bob ashore. I should think they'd have
kept him aboard one of their ships."
"Beggin' yer pardon, sir," said Peter, "but seem' as
how he are a American, they wants to keep their doiu's
dark."
" That must be it. But we haven't any time to lose.
We have to get horses yet."
" And the bark?" asked Hal.
"Oh, Mr. Ball can take care of her. He'll take her'
out of the wharf and anchor her."
" But it would be better to defer doing that till late in
the day, so that they may not have time to form a new
plan," said Harold.
"That's so, boy; you have a clear head."
" And as we shall probably get back after dark, we
ought to know where she's going to be," continued Hal.
"Right again. You're a sailor, sure."
"W'ich the same he are, sir, beggin' his pardon fur
savin' so," said the cockswain.
The first mate was sent for and let into the secret, but
he was instructed not to tell the crew.
" Now, Mr. Ball," said Captain Lockwood, "about four
o'clock, or later, you stand by to get the bark off. An-
chor about just off Enchadas Island, bearing no'-no'th-
east from the wharf, say about three-quarters of a mile."
These instructions having been given the Captain arose
to go, but Harold said:
" One minute, sir. It will not do for us to go on this
expedition in uniform. Can't you fit us out with some
old toggery from your slop chest?"
" Right," said the Captain.
" And to make everything snug and safe," said George,
" I think we ought to shift somewhere ashore."
"There's a friend of mine who lives right on the out-
skirts of the city," said the Captain, "and we can have
our horses sent there, and shift there, too."
The party, consisting of the Captain, the two cadets,
and the cockswain now arose to depart. The first mate
was instructed to have a boat at the landing -float at
eight o'clock to wait for them.
" Good -by all," said Minnie. "I wish I were a man
so that I could go with you."
They set off with grave faces, the cockswain carrying
the bundle of clothes to be used as disguises. Captain
Lockwood was well acquainted with the city, and he
know where to procure horses. It was decided that they
should get the animals at once and ride out to the house
of the Captain's friend. An extra horse for Robert was
to be sent after them. On arriving at their destination,
Sefior Pereira, the friend of Captain Lockwood, and a
loyal Brazilian, heard their story, and said that he was
ready to give them every assistance. He knew the house
of Miguel Santos, and suggested that they should all ride
out in that direction iu the afternoon and reconnoitre.
As soon, therefore, as they had eaten, they mounted their
horses and set off. In spite of the gravity of the occa
sion George could not help laughing.
"Senor Pereira," he said, "did you ever see anything
more absurd than four sailors on horseback?"
The polite Brazilian made some courteous remark, but
Peter shook his head and said :
" Werry bad, werry bad; but not no wuss nor a sea-
sick sojer aboardship, w'ich the same he are 'most as
distressiu' a sight as a cat in swimmin'."
The four miles were soon covered, and Senor Pereira
pointed out the house. Captain Lockwood was very ex-
JANUARY 29, 1895
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
231
cited, and the boys had much difficulty in calming him
Suddenly, as they walked their horses slowly past the
place, Harold exclaimed, in a suppressed voice,
" I see him !''
Captain Lockwood looked in the direction indicated,
and there was his son in an upper room.
"There are no bars to the window, "said George; " why
doesn't he escape?'1
"He must be fastened in some way," said Hal.
"Nothing but chains would hold him." said the Cap-
tain.
" Then we must bring a steel saw to-night." said Hal.
"Have you thought of away to reach him;" asked
George.
" W'icli the same I have did. "said Peter, significantly.
" Did he see us?" asked the Captain.
"No," said Hal, "but we ought to let him know that
we are around."
They turned back and rode past the house again. Cap-
tain Lockwood began to whistle a peculiar tune. Robert
heard it, raised, his head, and saw his father, who at once
laid his finger on his lips, and rode on. They now re-
turned to Seuor Pereira's. The Brazilian sent a servant
to purchase a steel saw, and now there was nothing to do
but wait for darkness. As soon as it was dusk the res-
cuers set off, Peter having provided himself with a large
coil of rope. When they arrived at a point about two
hundred yards away from the Santos house, they led their
horses into the woods and made them fast. Then they
stole on foot to the rear of the house.
"George," whispered Hal, "here's your chance. You
used to be fond of playing Indian scout. Now see if you
can find out where the people of the house are."
George needed no second bidding. Pulling off his
shoes, he threw himself on his breast in the thick grass
and crawled away. He was gone more than half an
hour, and his friends became anxious, when suddenly he
reappeared.
"It's all right," he said. "The family is just going
to bed; they are evidently early risers. There are two
men with rifles in a front room on the first floor, but
they have a table with a bottle of wine and cards on it.
They'll be too interested to watch their prisoner."
They waited about three-quarters of aji hour longer,
and then Peter was directed to go ahead with his scheme.
The seaman at once climbed a tall tree at one side of the
house, carrying an end of his rope with him. Harold
followed him. A long branch of this tree extended near-
ly over the roof, and climbing out on it, Peter, with a
sailor's dexterity, cast the bight of the rope around a
chimney. He now made the ends fast to the tree limb.
Then taking another piece about thirty feet long he slung
it around his body, and by means of his extemporized
bridge he crossed hand over hand to the roof, Harold
following him. The piece of rope which Peter took over
was made fast immediately over the window where Rob-
ert had been seen, and then Peter descended by it to the
window-sill. The window was latched. Peter laughed
quietl}-, and taking out his knife, inserted it between the
two sashes and forced the latch. He stepped into the
room, which was pitch-dark.
"Who's that?" called a voice.
"Are you Robert Lockwood?" asked the cockswain.
"Yes."
" We're here fur to save you. Come with me."
"I've got chains on my ankles."
Peter examined them, and found them too heavy to saw
through in a short time. So he made the end of his rope
fast around the boy's body, and climbed back to the roof,
where he and Harold, with much labor, hauled the boy
out through the window until he hung suspended in the air.
A moment later the captain saw his son descending to the
ground. He started forward quickly, and the next instant
the boy was clasped in his father's arms. As soon as
Peter and Harold had descended they lifted Robert and
carried him to his horse in the woods.
" You'll have to ride side-saddle fashion, Bob," said
the Captain, laughing.
" I can ride that way as well as any other," replied the
boy.
Their progress was slow, but in three-quarters of an
hour they were at Seiior Pereira's. There a cold chisel
was obtained, and not being afraid to make a noise, the
chains were cut from Robert's ankles. The horses were
left at the house of the Brazilian, to be returned in the
morning, the cadets and Peter put on their uniforms, and
with many expressions of gratitude to him the party set
off at a brisk walk for the wharf. Minnie and Mr. Ball
had rowed the dingy ashore themselves, and were waiting
for the party. Just as Captain Lockwood set his foot on
the inshore end of the wharf a splutter of dampness broke
against his face.
" What's that?" he exclaimed. " Fog, as I'm a living
man."
" It'll be a werry bad job to find your bark, sir," said
Peter. "Cos w'y? fur a wessel in a fog are like huntin'
fur whales in Broadway, New York."
CHAPTER XXVI.
LOST IN THE FOG.
IT was difficult even to find the landing-float, so dense
was the oily blackness which the fog spread over the
whole shore and bay.
"It are werry much like lookin' down the neck o' a
bottle o' ink," muttered Peter.
But presently Mr. Ball heard their footsteps, and in a
low voice called out, " Is that you, Cap'nf
" All right," answered the skipper, "here we are."
The next minute they were in the boat, and Minnie,
half crying, had her arms around her brother's neck.
Mr. Ball, Peter, and the two cadets took the oars.
"Wait a bit,"sa.id the Captain, "let's get our bearings.
You anchored just where I told you, Ball?"
" Yes, sir; but I'm sorry —
" Sorry for what?"
" I couldn't find a boat compass to bring ashore."
"Goodness!" exclaimed the Captain, "there are three
aboard, but they're all in the locker in my cabin."
" Well, sir," said Peter, after a moment of silence, " I
reckon we got to feel fur her."
"We'll be mighty lucky if we find her," said Hal.
" Yes; but we can't stay here," said George.
"Couldn't we wait till the fog lifts?" asked Hal.
" These fogs in Rio Harbor generally hang on all night,"
replied Captain Lockwood. " If it wasn't for Minnie,
we might lie right here till daylight."
" Oh, papa, please, please don't think about me. " said
the girl; " think about saving- Robert."
"An' beggin' your pardon once ag'in, sir," said Peter,
"if we stays here till daylight, an' the fog lifts, doesn't
we stand a good chance fur to be seed by some o' them
rebel tugs afore we git off to the bark?"
" Why, of course, cocks'n," said the Captain. " You've
got your wits about you. We must do the best we can
to find the Alma. Let's see, now. This wharf here runs
about due north and south. We must get our bearings
as well as we can from that. Give 'way, lads."
The four oars dipped into the water, and the boat
started. The landing -float was instantaneously hidden
from sight, and the boat appeared to be floating in dark-
ness.
"It's a mean, dirty night.'' said the Captain.
"I am not in love witli it," said George.
" It has one advantage," said Harold.
" What's that?" asked the Captain.
232
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
A MOMENT LATER THE CAPTAIN SAW HIS SON DESCENDING.
" If we can't find the Alma, they can't either."
" True enough," answered the Captain; "but I don't
think they would undertake to harm her while she's out
in the bay."
" We must be pretty nearly there," said George.
"Oh no," said Mr. Ball; "we haven't pulled 300
yards yet, and she's a good three-quarters of a mile out."
They rowed on for several minutes in silence. Then
they ceased pulling, and listened.
" I don't hear a sound," said the Captain. " I think
we might try a hail now."
"Very well, sir," said Harold.
" Alma ahoy!" shouted the Captain.
They all waited, but there was no reply.
" We're not far enough out to be heard in this fog,"
said Hal; " let's pull ahead."
For a few minutes nothing was hpard save the monot-
onous click of the oars in the rowlocks.
"I think we'd better try it again," said the Captain.
He lifted up his voice, and shouted the name of the bark
once more, but again there was no reply. " Young gen-
tlemen," said he, "I'm afraid we've missed her."
All hands were silent for a moment. They knew too
much about the water to question the judgment of an
experienced mariner like Captain Lockwood.
" Don't you think, sir," said Hal, " that we must try
to find her?"
"Of course," said the Captain. "But if we do find
her, it'll be because we stumble 011 her by chance."
" I'm mortally sorry about this," said
Mr. Ball.
"It's not your fault, Ball; you've
done the best that could be done in the
circumstances."
"Why, we can steer by the wind,"
exclaimed George. "I remember dis-
tinctly how it was blowing when we
started out."
" Oh, Georgie, Georgie," said Harold,
with comic dismay, " that's a dreadful
break for a fellow who was brought
up on the sea-coast."
" Why, I'd like to know—
" A wind, sir," said Peter, " are like
a young woman's mind, beggin' your
pardon, miss. It changes w'en ye don't
know it are a moviii' at all."
George was silent, and presently they
began to row again. Even while they
had been lying on their oars the boat's
head had swung about three points un-
known to them, and they were now
pulling down the bay. They were al-
ready half a mile below Isla de Cobras,
though they thought themselves half-
way across to Nictheroy. Presently
they paused, and the Captain again
shouted,
"Alma ahoy!"
But there was no answer.
"We must continue to row on,"
said the Captain; "that is our only
chance."
The four oarsmen bent their backs
to the oars again. For nearly two
hours they pulled in every direction,
as they imagined, but in reality in a
zigzag course, down the bay. At the
end of that time they were outside of
the bay and in the cove just behind
Sugar Loaf Mountain, though they
believed themselves to be near Engen-
ha Island.
" There's no use of killing ourselves," said the Captain.
"We're in for a night in the streets, and we may as well
let her drift."
A moment later Harold said:
"Listen! I hear water lapping against a rock or a
ship."
"Look!" said George. "There's something — it's a
vessel."
A dark mass loomed above them in the fog, and the
boat drifted against the side of the ship.
"Whoever she is," said Captain Lockwood, "she'll
not refuse us shelter. On deck there!"
" Wait, wait!" cried Harold, who had placed his hand
against the vessel's side and discovered that it was
iron.
It was too late, however. Lights flashed along the
ship's rail, and a voice hailed them in Spanish.
"Speak 'English,'" said Captain Lockwood.
"In the boat there," called a firm young voice, " come
aboard and surrender yourselves!"
Tlit^y had no choice but to obey the order, and climb-
ing aboard, they found themselves face to face with Frank
Lockwood.
"Uncle Hiram! Bob!" he exclaimed.
" It seems we're your prisoners, Frank," said Robert,
bitterly.
"An' all that horseback ridin' fur nothin'," muttered
Peter.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE 'SCUTNEY MAIL.
THE STORY OF A TOTING PEOPLE'S NEWSPAPER VENTURE.
BY SOPHIE SWETT.
Part E.
MACURDY GREEN was trudging sturdily along the
road to the village with a heavy basket on his arm,
and thinking of what Captain Levi Hawkes had said to
him just before he mounted the stage for Hebron.
"The world is full of square boys in round holes, and
round boys in square holes, just like you, Macurdy. A
boy has got to fit himself to the hole, or stir 'round lively
and find a hole that fits him; and he will if there's the
right stuff in him."
What Captain Levi said was worth thinking of, for he
was captain of a ship, and knew the world. He had of-
fered to take Macurdy with him onboard his ship, but
Macurdy knew what he
wanted, and it wasn't
that. ^^^^^^H^^ma^^^m
Farmer Bigsby had
taken Macurdy from
the poor - house two
years before, when he
was a little more than
twelve years old, and
Farmer Bigsby, who was
"snug," admitted that
Macurdy had always
been " worth his keep."
But Macurdy wanted
a better chance. He had
decided that farming, at
least after Farmer Bigs-
by's methods, would
never suit him. He said
to himself that he should
not be afraid to leave
'Scutney and seek the
place in life that would
fit him or that he could
fit, and he would go —
if it were not for Jim!
He looked wistfully
across the fields at the
'Scutney poor - house,
standing dingy and di-
lapidated on the edge
of a dreary little pond,
as he thought of Jim.
"He's walked over to
the Corners to get 'em,"
he said to himself. " I
hope he won't have to
carry anything so hea-
vy. Maybe somebody
will give him a lift."
For Jim was not
strong. The circus that
had visited 'Scutney two
years and a half before
had left Jim behind it
very ill with scarlet
fever, and he had been
taken to the poor-house,
and had staid there ever
since. The fever had
left him weak in mind
as well as in body ; there
were people who thought
he had always been what
was known in 'Scutney
as " underwitted." The town authorities had tried in
vain to discover who he was or where he came from.
The circus company had disclaimed all responsibility, de-
claring that he had run away from home to join it with-
out the knowledge or consent of any of its members.
Macurdy Green had become Jim's friend and protector.
In fact it was a part of Macurdy's theory of life that
when a fellow was too weak to stand up for himself it
was his place to stand up for him. A place for himself
must mean a place for Jim, too. Macurdy was small of
his age, and he had to wear Farmer Bigsby's old clothes,
which Mrs. Bigsby thought it well to leave unaltered,
both as a saving of labor and an encouragement to Ma-
'I GUESS WE CAN GET ALONG WITHOUT GIRLS," TOM SAID, LOFTILY.
234
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
curdy to grow. This morning he had on a long-tailed
coat that dangled around his heels, and he would have
been completely extinguished under Farmer Bigsby's old
hat if his ears had not been the largest part of him. But
Macurdy had a strong and resolute chin, his nose was so
sharp that it looked as if it had been whittled to a point,
and his gray eyes were keen as well as honest. It was
easy to see that there was more of Macurdy than could
ever be swallowed up by Farmer Bigsby's old clothes or
extinguished by his hat.
Macurdy began to whistle cheerily as he trudged along,
his long-tailed coat flapping in the wind, and his great
ears standing out from his head like sails set wing and
wing. When a boy had thought things over until they
began to look harder than they really were, Macurdy had
found it a good plan U> whistle.
" Where you going, 'Curdy?" called a voice.
Macurdy had reached Dr. Pickering's house, and Tom
Pickering was sitting on the wood-pile whittling a basket
out of a nutshell.
When he was younger, Tom had meant to be either a
cowboy or a lion-tamer or an arctic explorer; but he had
come to the conclusion that those occupations were too
risky, and that there is nothing more satisfactory than
the power that comes from wealth. He knew something
about it, for his uncle Rufus had given him twenty-five
dollars, which he had put into the 'Scutney bank, and had
also given him a "motto "bank, which now contained
seventy-seven ten-cent pieces.
Uncle Rufus had gone away off to Texas and grown
rich, and often sent home presents — always useful ones.
Tom had hoped that he would send him some money this
last Christmas, and was disappointed to have only a print-
ing-press and a fountain-pen. He had used the press to
print some cards for his sister Ethelberta, but Etbelberta,
who had been away to boarding -school, scorned them
because they were not engraved; and he had proposed to
print some handbills for the man who kept the Boston
store, but the man had wanted to see some specimens of
Tom's work, and just because there were two or three
words misspelled, and a few letters upside down, he
wouldn't give him any orders.
And Tom, when he wrote to thank Uncle Rufus, said,
"The Presints were verry hansom, but moimey was an
Orfle Handy Thing." Tom thought he had a head for
business, but of what use was a head for business in
'Scutney? Nevertheless, he felt a little thrill of hope
when he saw Macurdy coming. As old Uncle Sol Rams-
dell, at the poor-house, said, " Macurdy Green had a head-
piece of his own."
" Store, " responded Macurdy, concisely, in response to
Tom's question ; and he set his basket down to rest his arms.
" This town was a dull enough place before the Janu-
ary I haw, "growled Tom. "Now there's no skating and
no coasting, to say nothing of a job to give a fellow a
start in life. Wliat you got in your basket?"
"Stuff to turn at the store. There's some winter but-
ter that I churned yesterday. And there's some stock-
ings and mittens; we knit 'em — her and me." Macurdy
nodded in the direction of the Bigsby farm-house.
" I wouldn't stay where folks made me knit like a girl,"
said Tom, contemptuously. "Halves?"
Macurdy shook his head, sadly. "She isn't that kind,
you know," he said. " But she let me knit a pair of mit-
tens out of the middlings for Jim."
"The poormistress ought to knit his mittens. He is
nothing to you," said Tom. " If you want to help some-
body, I wish you'd help me to get out of this dead town
where there's no chance for a fellow."
"I'll tell you what this town needs." Macurdy sat
down astride the chopping hlock, so that his coat tails ex-
tended along its whole length, and planted his feet firmly
on the ground, "It's a good live newspaper."
Tom stared at him open-mouthed, and the expression
of disgust deepened on his face. " I should like to know
where it's going to get one, and what good 'twould do me,
anyway," he said.
"You've got a printing-press, you know," said Macurdy.
He didn't add that whether he was milking, feeding the
cattle, shovelling snow, hauling wood, or knitting mittens.
he had not been able to get that printing-press — a real
press, with a large font of type — out of his mind since he
first saw it. Macurdy always had his reserves.
The nut-shell that Tom was whittling dropped from his
hand.
" 'Curdy, let's do it '" he exclaimed, jumping down from
the wood-pile.
" li '11 take capital," said Macurdy. "And spelling."
" I've got twenty-five dollars. And we can look in the
dictionary. I always thought a fellow was wasting his
time learning to spell," said Tom, easily.
Macurdy Green shook his head doubtfully.
" I wish I could get more'n three mouths' schooling in
a year. I'm awful shaky on grammar," he said, dejectedly.
Tom's manner lost something of its easy assurance.
"I'm stuck there, too," he admitted, candidly. "Gram-
mar is for girls, anyhow. I said them instead of those,
the other night, when we had company, and Ethelberta
said she thought she should sink through the floor."
(Tom, I regret to say, delivered himself of this last clause
in a thin falsetto key, in mimicry of Ethelberta.)
" Grammar conies high, but you have to have it," said
Macurdy, seriously.
"I'll tell you what we could do," said Tom, after a
moment of deep reflection. "My sister Luella is great
on grammar and spelling'. We needn't let her have her
name in the paper, but she can look over the patterns."
" The proofs," suggested Macurdy.
" Yes, that's what they call 'em. You know all about
it, don't you? How did you find out?" demanded Tom,
eagerly.
" I always wanted to do it. I don't know how such
ideas get into a fellow's head. Uncle Sol Ramsdell at the
poor-house used to pick up every newspaper he could find,
and some summer boarders used to send him some after
they went home to New York, and I used to read them to
him. Jim knows a lot about it, too. I think his father
was an editor."
"More likely a circus clown," growled Tom.
He didn't at all approve of Macurdy's intimacy with
that Jim. They had secrets too — Macurdy and Jim —
which they never revealed to him.
" I only have my chores to do after school, now, except
Saturday, and I'll do more than half the work. I ought
to if you furnish the capital," said Macurdy. "You'll
be editor and proprietor, and I'll be assistant editor," he
continued, modestly. "We'll make a paper that will
grow up with us and with the town."
Tom's first impulse was to say that they would share
the glory of editorship equally, but it occurred to him
suddenly that "Thomas F. Pickering, Editor and Pro-
prietor," would look very imposing at the head of the
sheet. And it was Macurdy's own proposition.
Macurdy stifled a little sigh; perhaps he had hoped that
Tom would insist upon his having more of the honors;
hut Macurdy understood the claims of capital.
He jumped up suddenly from the chopping-bloek. "I
must hurry up," he said. "I've got to get some molasses
and some ginger. We're going to make dried pumpkin
pies." Macurdy made a slight grimace, but he drew him-
self up with a soldierly bearing in his long-tailed coat.
" If she don't make me wash the dishes with her apron
on! That hurts," he said.
"You have an awful hard time, 'Curdy," said Tom,
sympathetically. " We'll put a piece in the paper about
her " (the pronouns " she " and " her " were used to darkly
JANUARY 29, 1595.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
235
designate Mrs. Bigsby), " and about the schoolmaster and
everybody tbat \ve don't like."
But tbese satisfactions of journalism did not strike Ma-
curdy favorably.
"I tliink that's mean, hitting folks when they haven't
got a chance to hit back," lie said, shaking his head
gravely. "Besides, it isn't business to make people mad.
You've got to suit everybody in a paper like that. And
we must get advertisements, you know, and make it
pay." Mac u ril y was hurrying off, now, with his basket,
under pressure of the recollection of the dried pumpkin
pies.
"Macurdy is business. I've got just the right one to
help me on that paper." reflected Tom. "But I'm not
going to have that Jim putting his finger into the pie!"
" Stop when you come back," he called after Macurdy.
" I'll get father to let me take my twenty-five dollars out
of the bank; Uncle Rufus said I was to do whatever I
liked with it. And I'll talk to Luella about the grammar."
It happened that Luella came to the door just then,
with her friend Polly Rawson, who had been calling on
her. The girls were chattering about some fancy-work
that they were making for a church fair.
" What are you going to do for the fair?'' Polly Raw-
son called to Tom. " There is so little that a boy can
do," she added, condescendingly. " But we are going to
have home-made candy for our table, Luella and I, and
we'll let you crack the nuts."
Crack the nuts, indeed! Tom growled a half-inaudible
refusal, to which they didn't even listen. Polly Rawson
was only fourteen, just the age of Luella, and a year and
a half younger than he, but she had begun to put on as
many airs as if she were twenty, especially since she had
her long braid fastened up in a little bob, and had written
a composition that the teacher read before the whole
school. Tom wished he were not obliged to ask a girl to
help about the paper. Perhaps it really would have
been better for a fellow to give his mind to spelling and
grammar, he thought, regretfully.
Luella had seated herself at the piano, and was prac-
tising, counting one, two, three, four, with diligent mo-
notony when Tom followed her into the house.
Luella had prim little features, and a straight mouth,
and she never understood a fellow's troubles; she was apt
to call them shim:*.
"See here, Luella" — Tom shut the parlor door care-
fully behind him — "it's an awful secret, but we're goingto
publish a paper, Macurdy Green and I, and we're going
to let you help a little."
" One, two, three, four," went on Luella, with provok-
ing indifference. "A paper! you and Macurdy Green!
— one, two, three, four — you don't know a thing about it !"
Luella allowed her fingers to fall from the keys with
this climax of frankness.
"We know all about it; Macurdy Green and I are the
kind that look into things. We only want you to look
over the patterns — the proofs — and correct the mistakes.
There always are some mistakes, because editors have
more important things to think of than grammar and
spelling."
" It would be a funny paper with your spelling and
Macurdy Green's!" she said. "Macurdy is smart; every-
body says so, but he never had a chance." (There was an
accent on the pronoun which Tom felt to be unpleasantly
personal.) "He's awfully sharp at a bargain. You'd
better let him manage the paper."
" I guess I'm capable of managing my own paper,"
said Tom, resenting the implied doubt of his abilities.
" I think you'll find that queer boy at the poor-house
will have something to do with it if Macurdy Green
has," said Luella. "He and Mactmly are very thick.
They keep something in Mr. Bigsby's old granary, and
nobody can get into the granary or find out what it is.
Some people think it is money; that boy wouldn't know
any better than to steal, and Macurdy thinks so much of
him that he would keep him from getting found out.
And some people think it's a pony that he hid away in
the woods when the circus was here, and before he was
sick. Very queer noises have been heard there."
"You and Polly Rawson know such a lot of wonder-
ful tilings!" said Tom, scornful! v.
The truth was that it was a sensitive point with Tom
that Macurdy did not take him into his confidence about
the mysterious occupants of that old granary, which were
reported to be almost everything imaginable, from bags
of gold to the queer little animals which had performed
such wonderful tricks at the circus. Tom then and there
resolved to tell Macurdy, pleasantly but firmly, that be-
fore he became connected with his newspaper enterprise
he must share with him the secret of that granary.
"There's always a managing editor and a literary
editor," continued Luella, returning to the subject of
the paper. "Polly Rawson's uncle owns a paper, and
Polly knows all about it. We talked it over when we
thought of having a paper for the fair. You can be the
publisher, Macurdy Green the managing editor, and I'll
be the literary editor."
il A lot you will !" cried Tom, with scornful roughness.
"Provided that my name is printed on the paper in
very large letters, that I have as many copies as I like to
give away, and that I can put in my friends' pieces. But
of course you'll be glad to have those, for Nell Tapley
writes beautiful poetry, and Abby Atwood can make up
conundrums and funny things that you would think
came out of a grown-up paper, and Polly can write fairy
stories. Don't you remember her composition, ' The En-
chanted Pumpkin Seed'?"
"Haven't you got cheek!" cried Tom, hotly. "Do
you think we want a lot of girly things like that? It's
going to be a very different sort of paper from that, I
can tell you ! Of course it will only be a boys' paper now,
but we expect it to grow up. with us and with the town "
— Tom quoted uublushingly from Macurdy, really feeling
as if that had been his own idea — "and that by-and-by
it will be the paper of the country. I can tell you such
things have happened. There's a boy in New York — "
"It depends a great deal upon the sort of boy he is.
I hope it won't prove like the poultry or the asparagus
business." And after these "mean little flings," as Tom
called them — for he had made disastrous failures in the
two occupations which she mentioned — Luella began
again to play, and to count her provoking one, two, three,
four, as if the great enterprise in which Tom had asked
her help were of no account whatever.
"I guess we can get along without girls," he said,
loftily. But even as he uttered this proud boast Tom's
heart sank at the thought of the gibes and sneers that
would follow any errors in grammar or spelling that
might appear in the paper.
That Luella, who had had to have apples and oranges
divided into sections over and over again before she
could get fractions into her head, who couldn't throw a
ball straight to save her life, nor drive a nail without
pounding her fingers black and blue, she knew just
which way the "i" and the "e" went in "deceive" and
"believe" and all such dreadful words, and when to say
" whom " instead of "who," and she said "lie down" to
Towser instead of " lay down," as a natural boy did, just
as easily as she breathed.
Tom felt that it was a. world in which things were
very unfair, and he turned away from. Luella and her
one, two. three, four with a heavy sigh.
Macurdy must think of a way in which they could
make that paper the great success that they meant to
have it — in time the paper of the country — without girls.
[TO BE CONTIXKED.]
THE BUILDING OF MODERN WONDERS.
THE FLYING-MACHINE.
BY HIRAM S. MAXIM, THE I N V E N TO R.
i T the age of sixteen I had already become quite ex-
1\_ pert as a mechanic, and had also learned to draw
moderately well. My father, who was a mechanician,
seeing that I was very anxious to learn, and very greedy
for all kinds of scientific information, took me to lectures,
and talked over and discussed scientific and mechanical
questions with me. One of his hobbies was a flying-ma-
chine. He told me that if he lived anywhere but in a
"wooden"* country, and had plenty of money, he be-
lieved he would be able to construct a flying- machine
that would actually raise itself in the air.
His plan was to raise the machine bodily by means of
two large screws revolving in reversed directions. He
admitted that he had not made up his mind as to what
would be the best motive power, but he said that a flying-
machine would be of such great value as a military en-
gine that it would not matter how much it cost to run it,
and even if it were necessary to use fulminate of mer-
cury to drive the engines, it could be used for warfare.
This was in the year 1856, and since that time many
have proposed flying-machines on lines almost identical
to the system thought out by my father at that remote
date. Even the great Peter Cooper made similar experi-
ments in New York, attempting to employ chloride of
nitrogen, the most sensitive and violent of all explosives,
as a motive power. As far as I myself was concerned, I
made up my mind not to consider the question of artificial
flight until I had made myself conversant with engineer-
ing and had become an expert draughtsman, and I believe
it was not until 1870 that I began to make drawings and
sketches with a view of studying out how a flying-ma-
chine should be constructed.
It appeared to me that the great question to be solved
* At that time we were living at Sangersville, a small village in the
interior of Maine.
was the motor, and I made a point of studying every new
form of motor that made its appearance. First it was a
steam-engine, then a caloric-engine, next a petroleum-oil
engine, and finally an electrical motor. But the oil-en-
gine seemed the best adapted for the purpose, and I made
THE FLYING-MACHINE IN ITS PARTIALLY COMPLETED FORM, BEFORE THE ACCIDENT.
UODKL OK MAXIM'S MACHINE.
a number of drawings with a view to so perfecting this
type of an engine as to make it suitable for a flying-ma-
chine, but in every case I found that the engine was too
heavy for the power developed. It was then understood
that no engine would be suitable for a flying machine un-
less it weighed less than forty pounds per horse power.
In 1880 electrical accumulators or storage batteries
first made their appearance, and a great deal was claimed
for them. At the Electrical Exposition in Paris in 1881
I examined all the electrical apparatus, but there were no
motors or batteries, pri-
mary or secondary, but
what were altogether too
heavy for a flying -ma-
chine. While in Paris in
the winter of 1881-2 I
studied out a complete
plan of conducting ex-
periments whenever I
should find a motor suffi-
ciently powerful and yet
light enough for my pur-
pose. From the very first
I saw that the aeroplane
system would be altogeth-
er the best. (Aeroplane
is the name usually given
to the kite-shaped part of
a flying-machine.) I did
not believe it would be
possible to make a ma-
chine that would screw
itself up into the air after
the manner thought out
by my father, because no
matter how I considered
this problem, it was al-
ways mathematically im-
possible; but whenever I
considered the aeroplane
system, it appeared to be
almost possible even with
JANUARY 29, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
237
the then existing motors. My plan for conducting ex-
periments was as follows: Whenever I had sufficient
time and means at my disposal I would make a series of
experiments with both a steam-engine and a petroleum
motor, and whichever proved to be the lightest for the
power developed I would adopt. I had read that there
were canons in California leading from the interior to
the sea in which during a greater part of the year there
was a forty-mile gale blowing at four o'clock in the after-
noon .
I proposed to visit California to examine these
canons, and when I had found one to suit my purpose,
to build a very large and strong kite, with each side
turned up, something like a Chinese kite that flies with-
out a tail. I then proposed to place this kite on a suit-
able platform, and to suspend from the underneath side
my motors, two in number, each of which would be at-
tached to a screw shaft. At that time my idea was to use
a propeller very much the shape of those used by ships,
except that instead of metal it would be a light frame-
work covered with silk. I did not intend to fly my kite
in the ordinary way ; that is, in which the cord not only
holds the kite against the wind, but also pulls it down-
ward. What I proposed to do was to secure my kite to
two or more tall posts by several strong cords or wires,
and to provide it with fore-and-aft rudders to steer it in a
vertical direction. The kite would be a suitable distance
from the posts, say two or three hundred feet, and when the
gale commenced to blow in the afternoon I would tilt up
the forward end of the kite, when the wind would get un-
derneath and take it up in the air, carrying with it the plat-
form on which I proposed to ascend. The fore-and-aft
rudders of the machine would be attached to a windlass,
somewhat like the one used for steering ships, and my first
experimenting would be with these rudders. When I had
learned to so manipulate them that I could cause the ma-
chine to rise above the posts to which the wires were se-
cured, or sink below them, or keep exactly at the same
height, I believed that the steering part of the problem
would be solved.
The next thing would be to run the motors and screws,
and whenever I could get these to develop sufficient thrust
on the machine while it was flying to push it forward
against the wind, and slacken the wires or cords which
secured it to the posts, the problem to my mind would he
solved, because I would only have to let go of my wires
altogether in order to soar on the wind, and then by
slackening the speed of my motors I should settle again
into the place from which I started, running my motors
all the time, so as to hold my machine against the wind
until the kite should be secured to the ground. Although
this plan was never carried out, nevertheless it still ap-
pears to me to be a very simple and cheap mode of at-
THE COPPER BOILER.
AFTER THE ACCIDENT.
tacking the problem, but a very powerful motor would
be necessary.
While in Paris in 1889 I saw some very beautiful seam-
less tubes of steel, copper, brass, and also of German sil-
ver. I was assured that they could be made of almost
any size and thickness, and of almost any length, but the
small and thin tubes were exceedingly expensive. These
tubes caused me again to think of the subject of aerial
navigation, and while on a journey through the Austrian
Alps I studied a great deal on the subject, and it appeared
to me that with these light tubes I should be able to make
a steam generator light enough for the flying-machine of
which I had so long been thinking. Prom Austria I
went to Spain, and while there I had the misfortune to
break a muscle in my leg, which confined me to my
room for a considerable time. I obtained pen, ink, and a
lot of paper, and amused myself by making a great num-
ber of mathematical calculations in regard to the weight
and power of a steam generator and of engines, also in
regard to the thrust of screws working in air, and the lift-
ing power of aeroplanes.
On my return to England I employed all my leisure
moments in making drawings of a pair of compound en-
gines, three hundred horse-power, for my proposed flying-
machine, and, the drawings finished, I at once set about
to have the engines made. I decided to make the whole
engine of steel.
The crank shafts were very light and hollow, and were
highly tempered; the cylinders were of a high grade of
steel; the passageways, etc., were made of seamless drawn
steel tubes, and the whole was very neatly riveted and
then brazed with silver solder. The cylinders were then
rebored, and their thickness reduced to -j\- inch. I made
my connecting rods of steel tubes, using the inside as
an oil reservoir. These connecting rods were new in
design, having universal joints at both ends. Two pairs
238
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
of engines were built (one pair for eacli of the two
screws which I proposed to have on my flying-machine),
and every ounce of steel in them was of the very best
•quality. When finished it was found that they weighed
collectively six hundred pounds, and that they would de-
velop over three hundred horse-power. These were by
far the lightest engines for their power ever built in the
world.
The next problem was the steam generator. I again
went to Paris to see about the tubes, but I found that the
kind I required had only been made in very small quan-
tities, and were very high-priced. However, I ordered a
lot of the very thin and strong copper tubes. The price
agreed upon was equal to their weight in silver, namely,
$750 for the lot.
These tubes were made and forwarded to England.
But at that time I happened to be in St. Petersburg, and
in my absence they were placed in the stores of my gun
company, and before I returned to England some of the
dishonest employes of that company stole the tubes, and
sold them as old copper for about $5, and went on a de-
bauch with the proceeds, and the beautiful tubes which
had cost so much money and taken so long to make were
again reduced to pig copper. Another set of tubes was
obtained as soon as possible, and experiments commenced
with the boiler. The first boiler made did not prove
satisfactory, and a third set of tubes of a larger diameter
was obtained, and another boiler was built. When fin-
ished it had, with its feed - water heater, which really
formed a part of the boiler, a heating surface of 800
square feet. It weigjied with its gas-burner, casing, and
smoke-stack about 1000 pounds. Experiments were then
made with a gas apparatus, as I believed that gas was
the only fuel that would be suitable for running a boiler
constructed of such a large number of very thin tubes.
This required a great deal of experimenting, but in the
end I succeeded in making and burning all the gas re-
quired, and I found that my boiler would make all the
steam that my engines would use.
I then constructed a species of platform car mounted
on four flanged wheels. The boiler was placed on the
forward end of this car, and the engines attached to the
rear end on brackets. I had already made a number of
very large, light, and strong wooden screws of white
pine, worked down very thin, and covered with strong
linen. They were found to be very efHcieiit. Each
screw was 17 feet 10 inches in diameter, and had a pitch
of 16 feet. In the mean time I had been providing a rail-
road track, nine-feet gauge, leading from the shop where
I had built my machine, across a field, a distance of 1800
feet. When everything was in readiness I ran my ma-
chine out on the track and started my engines, and I
found that the screws could be run at a very high ve-
locity, that they got a good grip on the air, and would
propel my platform car across the field at a high velocity.
The next experiment was to secure a very large aero-
plane or kite, 50 feet wide and 47 feet in a fore-and-aft
direction, over my platform car, and about 25 feet above
the ground. The forward end of this kite was tilted up
:so that it would catch the air as it ran rapidly across
the field. The first kite made did not behave well, so I
•constructed a second one, with which I made a great
many runs with a view to finding out how much screw
thrust was required to drive the machine across the field
and how much the aeroplane would lift on the machine.
Finally I succeeded in lifting about half the weight of
the machine with a screw thrust of 1500 pounds. Then I
added long and narrow planes to each side of my main
aeroplane. This brought the total width of the machine
up to 104 feet. I then placed horizontal rudders fore and
aft for steering the machine in a vertical direction, and
I saw it would be necessary to experiment a great deal
in order to learn exactly how to manoeuvre the machine,
and for this purpose the machine would have to be kept
on the trad;, and not be allowed to soar in the air until
I knew that I should be able to steer it.
Therefore, to keep it from rising off the track, I placed
some heavy timbers 011 each side of the track, and about
ten feet distant. These were elevated a few feet above the
ground, and another set of small wheels was placed on
outriggers, attached to the machine in such a manner
that when the machine had been raised one inch off the
railroad track these small wheels would be brought in
contact with the underneath side of the timbers, which
in reality was a reversed railroad track.
When everything was ready several runs were made,
each one with increasing power. In the last run the
engines were worked up to nearly their full power, and
the whole machine, which, with three men on board and
its water and fuel, weighed nearly 8000 pounds, was lifted
off the track, and all four of the small wheels were
running on the timbers. As the speed increased the lift
also very much increased, until the rear axle-tree of the
small wheels was broken. Then one of the small front
wheels broke the timber holding it down, and this timber
became entangled in the frame-work of the machine, and
it became necessary to shut off steam. This accident de-
stroyed the frame- work on one side of the platform, and
broke one of the flanged wheels and also one of the pro-
pellers.
This will delay further experiments for some time, as
it may be necessary to seek a field which is considerably
larger than the one which I now have at my disposal.
I have, however, shown in the most conclusive manner
that a machine can be made that will lift its own weight
and the weight of those .operating it. Before free flight
can be attempted it will be necessary to experiment in a
very thorough manner with the steering apparatus.
At the time the accident took place the engines were
developing 363 horse -power in actual effect upon the
screws of the machine. It will therefore be seen that the
engines are of great power for their weight. In a word,
they have the power of a horse for the weight of an or-
dinary barn-yard fowl.
After the accident a number of scientific gentlemen
visited the scene, and they all admitted that there could
be no question about the machine having- actually flown,
because it had moved off the railroad track and come
down on the soft turf, where all four of the wheels were
deeply embedded. The fact that there were no other
marks on the turf showed that the machine had been
stopped in the air, and had fallen directly downward to
the earth.
And this is the first time in the history of the world
that a machine has ever been made strong enough and
at the same time light enough to raise itself from the
earth.
MQLLIE REJOICES.
T THANK my stars I'm not a cow,
I really truly do.
With naught but jjrass to eat all day,
And naught to say but "Moo!"
For instance, if the donkey came
And asked me lion- I did,
I'd have to answer him with "Moo!"
Just like a little kid.
Or if the do«j harked at my heels,
As he would do, past doubt,
The same old word would have to do
. For "collie, bow-wow, get out!"
No matter what, I wisbeil to say,
The same 'twould be all through,
My conversation would be lim-
ited to '' Moo-oo-ooh !"
JANUARY 29, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
239
SOME THINGS
THAT LITTLE
MAKE.
GIRLS CAN
AS the simplest embroideries and paintings may prove too
nine]] for inexperienced fingers, it seems only fair that lit-
tle girls should lie told of some useful birthday and Easter pres-
ents requiring no more than an ordinary knowledge of sewing
and a few inexpensive materials. If there is a man or boy in
the house who hasn't a whisk-holder, for instance, his needs
should be supplied at once in a pretty and substantial fashion.
For the holder shown in our illustration cut two round pieces
of stout pasteboard six and a half inches in diameter. Cover
each of these with gold-brown denim, turning over the boards a
margin of two inches or so. Baste these edges down neatlv,
laying the extra fulness in small pleats.
Make two circles of the denim four inches in diameter, turn
under the edges, and hem one on each inner or pleated side of
the holder to cover the centres of the circles.
Lity a band of Persian trimming diagonally across oue of your
circles, and fasten it firmly at the ends with a few stitches.
Sew brown spangles, each with a bead in the centre, irregular-
ly below the band, and ornament the top with a straggling pat-
tern of gold lace, or some zigzags in gold paint.
Place the inner parts of the two disks together, and overseam
four inches on each side. The open space at the top should be
twice as great as that at thfe bottom, otherwise the whisk would
fall through.
Sew a loop on the back of your holder to hang it up bv, and
put in a brush that will fit comfortably the place provided for it.
To make a very pretty bag that will serve as catch-all, or as a
receptacle for soiled handkerchiefs, yon will require half a yard
of India silk in a flowered pattern, or the silk and cotiou goods
threaded with gold in Oriental patterns that are to be found in
any upholstery .shop, a five-cent embroidery hoop, three-eighths
•of a yard of silesia, and one and a half yards of iiich-and-a-half
ribbon.
Measure the silesia plain around the hoop, leaving room for
seam. Sew up straight to within eight inches of the bolt ..... .
then begin to curve both sides of the bag inward till it measures
•only three inches across the bottom. Then cut off the extra,
material.
Turn the top over the hoop and baste in place.
Sew the silk together at the side, but leave it open top and
bottom. Make a narrow hem around the bottom.
Tnrn three inches under at the top, and put a double row of
,sliirriug.
Slip it over the hoop outside the silesia bag, and hem it light-
ly to the lining at the edge of the hoop, the ruffle standing above
the lining.
Draw the lower shirring thread and tack to the lining just
below the hoop.
Sew on a brass ring to hang it up by.
Now gather the silk together at the end, about two inches
from the hem, and tie, (irmly with waxed sewing-silk. Pass the
ribbon around, and tie a long full how.
This bag may be made of plainer materials, or turned into a
very handsome affair, as the maker pleases.
A very attractive pin-cushion can be made like the illustration
without trouble or expense. It is merely an ordinary enshiou four
inches square, uot stuffed too tight. The back is of light-color-
ed silk, the top of a darker
shade of the same or some
contrasting eolor. Magen-
ta and baby-pink, old-gold
and straw-color, mignon-
ette and lavender, are good
combinations.
Sew a full gathered ruffle,
of wide white chiffon or
soft lace around the back
about an inch from the
edge, but do not square the
corners.
Use seven-eighths of a
yard of chiffon or lace for
the top frill, bunching the
fulness together in the
middle.
Fasten it in the centre
of the cushion, and cover
the sewing with a bow of
ribbon oire and a half
inches wide, the color of
the silk.
Catch the two ruffles to-
gether at regular intervals
with tiny bows of daisy
ribbon of the same shade as the back of the cushion. A loop
of the narrow ribbon is then stitched over the chiffon to a
corner of the cushion if you wish to hang it beside the dressing-
table glass.
The beauty of this cushion is the square shape under a double
round frill.
THE CATCH-ALL.
TUB PIN-CPSHION ANP WHISK-HOLPER.
THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF TOMMY
TODDLES.
BY A LI) E KT LE E.
CHAPTER VII.
TOMMY was most curious to know what this fight was that
his new acquaintance had been talking about, and alter
they had walked along in silence for a few moments he asked
the ex-Pirate to tell him about it. The latter expressed some
surprise that Tommy should have known nothing about it, and
asked him if his animals had not told him about it.
"Why, they never tell me anything," answered Tommy.
" They're wooden."
'•They wouldn't f said the ex -Pirate; but before T my
could explain the misunderstanding his companion began tell-
ing him about the tight. It seems that the Penguin lived in a
house near the sea-shore, and was the editor of a newspaper
which he called the Tiilnl U'<ir<: In it he chronicled the events
of the animal world, and frequently said pretty sharp things
about the beasts, the birds, and the fishes.
"You see, the Penguin is half bird and half fish," explained
the ex-Pirate, "and as he lives on land he counts as a beast.
Well, it seems that this editorial Penguin had made some sar-
castic remarks in his paper about the Swonllish, w ho was a cap-
tain of Sub-Marines; and the Swordtish, being a very haughty
personage, had taken offence, and had challenged hiui to fight 'a
duel. The Penguin, although he was, so to .speak, a man of
peace, accepted, and all the beasts and. birds and fishes were
invited to witness the contest and to decide which was the
mightier of the two. And I suppose the fight took [dace to-
day,"said the ex-Pirate in conclusion.
"Who won ?" asked Tommy, eagerly.
"I don't know; we'll find out when we get to the beach."
By this time they were Hearing the foot of the hill. The road
ran alongside of a stone wall that was just about as hiuh as
Tommy's head, and it seemed to the little boy that lie could
hear, now and then, strange sounds, like squeals, coming from
the other side of it. He asked the Sheep what the sounds were.
"That's the Guinea Pig .school in there, "said the latter.
"It must be recess," remarked the ex-Pirate. "I can hear
them playing."
"Are there Guinea Pigs on the other side of that wall?" in-
quired Tommy, with much interest.
"Hundreds of them, "said the ex-Pirate
"Can't we climb up and look at them "."
"Of course we can;" and in less time than it takes to tell
240
HAKPEK'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
THE SPOTTED GUINEA PIG SAT OUT IN FRONT AND BEAT TIME WITH HIS PAWS.
about it all three had clambered to the top of the wall, and
were looking down into the Guinea Pig school-yard.
"Where is the school-house ?" asked the little boy, as he gazed
at the hundreds of funny little animals clambering over one an-
other, playing tag and leap-frog, and every now and then giving
vent to little squeaks of delight. They did not even notice the
three on-lookers sitting on the wall, so busy were they ill having
a good time.
"Did yon know," said the ex-Pirate to Tommy, " that if you
pick up a Guinea Pig by the tail his eyes will fall out ?"
" Uucle Dick told me so once, but I did not believe him."
"Well, I'll show you," said the ex-Pirate, jumping down into
the play-ground. He approached a Guinea Pig who was not
looking, and picked him up by the tail. Sure enough, his eyes
fell out, and rolled around on the ground with a most terrified
expression. Then the ex-Pirate put the little beast down again,
and he groped about until he found his eyes, and put them back
where they belonged. He looked quickly about to see who had
played the trick on him, and seeing the ex-Pirate laughing, he
stuck out his tongue at him, and rail away to join a group that
was playing blind-man's-buff.
" Does not that hurt the Guinea Pig ?" asked Tommy.
"Certainly not," replied the ex -Pirate; "they like it. It
tickles the eyes to roll about like that. Dou't you see them
playing blind-man's-buff over there?"
" Yes," assented Tommy.
"Well, Guinea Pigs don't carry handkerchiefs, so they have
to do the best they can without them. The way they get around
this is to take the one who is It, hold him up by tin; tail, and let
his eyes fall out. Then he's just as blind as if he had his eyes
bandaged with a handkerchief."
"And it's cheaper too," added the Sheep, as he fanned himself
with his hat.
Tommy, of course, was much surprised at all the ex-Pirate
had told him, but he said to himself'philosophically that so
many things had bren surprising that afternoon that there was no
reason why he should waste any emotion on the Guinea Pigs.
" Did you ever hear them sing?" asked the ex-Pirate.
" Can they sing ?" asked the little boy, gleefully.
"They tan sing," answered the ex-Pirate, "but they usually
sing only just before vacation."
"And—
"And now it's just after vacation."
"I wish they would sing,"
said Tommy , looking up at
the ex-Pirate coaxiugly.
"Perhaps I can persuade
them to," said the latter,
good - uaturedly, for he un-
derstood that this was what
Tommy wanted him to do.
He walked over toward the
group that was playing
blind-man's-buff. As soon
as they saw him approach-
ing they scurried off in ev-
ery direction, until they
considered themselves out
of his reach, and then they
sat up on their haunches
and stuck out their tongues,
which was very ill-bred of
the Guinea Pigs, thought
Tommy.
" I'm not going to hurt
you," shouted the ex-Pirate.
" Honest?" squeaked a lit-
tle spotted Guinea Pig, as
hi; put his fore paws up to
his eyes to make sure they
were there.
" Really I'm not. I want
you to sing."
"It is not time to sing
yet," said another Guinea
Pig, who looked very wise,
and winked at his compan-
ions as if he had discovered
some ruse on the part of
their visitor.
"No matter about that,"
urged the ex-Pirate. " Sing
your song, and make believe you are practising for vacation."
This suggestion apparently struck the Guinea Pigs favorably,
for at heart they really enjoyed their singing very much.
They all huddled together and held an excited debate, during
which there were no end of squeaks and squeals, and they final-
ly decided that they would sing — just once, "for practice."
So the ex-Pirate returned and sat down on the top of the
stone wall next to Tommy and the Sheep, and the Guinea Pigs
approached in a very dignified way, and arranged themselves iu
a semicircle in front of their audience. The spotted Guinea Pig
sat out in front, facing the others, and beat time with his fore
paws, while the others sang in chorus :
"Oh, let us away
To the land of Kathay,
Where the peppermint candy grows;
Where all the streets
Are paved with sweets,
And the lemonade river flows.
" We'll revel in quince,
And slices of mince,
And dine on chocolate-creams;
And visions of tarts
Shall please our hearts,
And fill our peaceful dreams.
" Oh, let us away
To fair Eatbay;
The summer days are coming.
For now we know
It's time to go ;
The bumblebees are humming."
The ex-Pirate then thanked the little fellows for their song.
But they soon ran away again, and lifted one of their number
up by the tail and resumed their game of bliud-ruau's-buff.
" Where is the land of Kathay?" asked Tommy, as soon as the
Guinea Pigs had gone.
" Oh, it's miles and miles away," said the Sheep, and then he
jumped down from the top of the wall, and told his companions
to hurry along, as they had been wasting time in their journey
to the top of the hill.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
1
H
:m
HARPERS
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1895, by HARPER 4 BROTHERS. AH Rights Reserved.
,t
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 797.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPV.
TWO DOLLARS A TEAIt.
THE BLOWING UP OF THE IRONCLAD "ALBEMARLE."
BY CAPTAINT HOWARD PATTERSON, U.S.X.
IT is tlie night of October 27, 1864. A blockading fleet
of Union vessels rides at anchor off the harbor of
Plymouth, North Carolina. Alongside the flag-ship an
open launch is secured,
her after -part made
visible to those on
board the over-tower-
ing ship owing to the
glow that comes from
the open door of the
little furnace. The
light that streams
forth also throws into
relief the face and form
of the engineer as he
spreads a layer of
"green" coals over
the surface of the fire,
and thrusts the slen-
LIEUTENANT GUSHING. der brass spout of his
oil-can into the various feed-cups of the machinery.
Just abaft the cockpit, holding the stern of the launch
to the frigate by means of a boat-hook, stands a blue-
jacket, his naked feet showing as two white patches
on the lead-colored planks. Another seaman is perform-
ing a similar office forward in the bow, while several
more are gathered about a long, curious- looking spar
carefully secured, with its cylinder-shaped head resting
on a wad of cotton waste; but these men are lost to view,
owing to the gloom of their situation, which is deepened
by contrast to the firelight aft. At the open gangway of
the flag-ship two officers stand conversing. Beside them
a gray-haired quartermaster is stationed, lantern in hand,
to light the way down the ladder that leads to the launch.
In the shoulder-straps of one of the officers glistens a sin-
gle silver star, which denotes his Commodore's rank, while
the two gold bars that decorate the straps of the other show
him to be a Lieutenant. As the latter is observed in the
ra\ s of the lantern, his smooth face and slender figure are
suggestive rather of extreme youth than of a man quail-
242
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
fled by years and experience to assume the office that his
uniform represents. The gold bands around his coat
sleeves have been nobly won, however, and the boy of
nineteen, who entered the service three years previous as
a master's mate, has already commanded with singular
and enviable distinction a gunboat of the blockading
squadron. There is a touch of fatherly tenderness and a
depth of anxiety in the old Commodore's voice as he speaks:
"Gushing, my boy, you are going to almost certain
death; the rebels have learned of your object, and are
prepared for the attempt. The Albemarle, as you know,
is surrounded with heavy floating timbers so arranged
that you cannot get within thirty feet of her, and unless
you can succeed in laying your boat alongside, how can
you expect to explode the torpedo?"
The lines of the Lieutenant's thinly cut mouth deepen,
and the brows draw ominously down over the flashing
eyes.
" Commodore, I've got my plan all worked out. and
I'll carry it through or die with it! If I don't succeed in
destroying that ironclad, she will come out here before
long, and perhaps sink the fleet. It's worth the risk, sir,
and I'm willing to take it along with my volunteer crew."
Then, as his natural spirit of recklessness and humor
comes to the surface for a moment, he smiles and con-
tinues, " It's either another stripe or death, Commodore."
The flag-officer presses the young man's hand, while
lie says, huskily, "God bless and grant you success and
a safe return !"
Preceded by the quartermaster, Lieutenant Gushing
descends the gangway ladder and drops into the launch.
"Lieutenant," says the old man, "there won't be no
sleep in the fleet to-night; if ye'll hexcuse the liberty,
sir, I'll be a-prayiii' for ye."
"All right, Lynch; but pray hard, for I'll need it,"
replies Gushing. Then he looks at the face of the little
dial which registers the steam-pressure, and turns to the
engineer: "Keep a full head of steam up, but be careful
not to let her get so much that she will open the safety-
valve and let Johnny know we're coming." Next he
goes forward, examines closely the torpedo-spar, stations
his small crew, orders the furnace door closed, and lays
hold of the steering - wheel in the forward cockpit.
"Shove off," he orders.
The great black hull of the flag-ship slips into the gloom
ahead. A moment later the propeller churns the water,
the tiller is put over to port, the head of the launch
swerves to starboard, and is kept steadily pointed towards
Plymouth, where lies the great rebel ironclad Albemarle,
waiting- only for the time, speedil3r coming, when, with
equipment complete, she will steam out to do battle with
the wooden walls of her enemies.
After the fleet has been left well astern, the boyish
commander orders the engines stopped, and calls the
men around him.
"Boys," he says, "I'm going to tell you my plan, so
that you may work it out, if possible, in case anything
happens to me when we get under fire. As soon as I
make out the ship and get my bearings, I'm going to put
on a full head of steam, and jump the launch over the
logs that surround her on the water side. Once over the
spars, it will be only a few feet between us and the hull;
so we must have the torpedo ready to push under the
water against her side as soon as we get near enough.
On the dock that she is moored to they have a couple of
howitzers and a company of sharp-shooters to help guard
the approach from sea, and on board they are sure to be
prepared to give us a warm welcome. I will keep the
wheel until we are over the 1<><^, then I will handle the
torpedo, so see that it is clear for me. But if I should fall,
try to carry out my plan, then jump overboard, dive
under the logs, swim across the river, and make your
way down along the bank until you get abreast of the
fleet, where you can signal. That is all, except to strip
yourselves for a swim. Do you understand?"
"Ay, ay, sir, we understand," comes the answer from
the handful of heroes.
The little wheel under the stern of the launch turns
over slowly and noiselessly as eager, anxious 63-68 peer
ahead into the night.
Suddenly a huge blot is made out a little on the port
bow, and a moment later it shapes itself into the outlines
of a dock with a great vessel lying alongside.
Out of the gloom rings the challenge, " Boat ahoy !"
While the echo of the last word trembles, Gushing
orders, fiercely: " Give it to her! Steady, boys!"
The engineer opens wide the valve, and throws the
wild pressure of a full head of steam into the cylinder.
The launch jumps forward in time to escape a shower
of iron hail that ploughs into her white wake.
Before the guns can be pointed anew a long narrow
barrier washing level with the water shows a few feet
ahead.
A sheet of flame from the rifle -barrels on the dock
and ship, so close to the open boat that it scorches the
air in the faces of the crew, makes vivid for an instant
the on-rushing destroyer. One of the bluejackets throws
his arms up, and falls face downward in the cockpit just
as the stem of the launch strikes the log.
Will she go over it? is the agonizing thought of the
brave youth who stands in the very bosom of the deadly
tempest.
The head of the boat rears itself on the air until the wa-
ter is splashing into the stern-sheets aft; then, without
checking her mad rush, she clears the barrier like a stee-
ple-chaser and hurls herself forward.
Another volley greets them, and the engineer and one
more of the sailors go down; but Lieutenant Gushing
springs from the wheel, grasps the torpedo-spar, and as
the bow of the launch strikes the rebel ram he thrusts it
against her side just as a thick storm of missiles from the
howitzers crashes into his boat and shatters it to pieces.
But the doom of the Albemarle is written. An awful
rumbling is heard, accompanied by the sound of splin-
tering timbers, followed by a towering volume of torn
and maddened waters that for a moment hide the scene
from friend and foe, and under cover of which Lieuten-
ant Gushing regains the river beyond the floating logs.
Mingled shouts of command and cries of rage are
heard by the swimmer when he comes to the surface
after his plunge under the barrier. A number of bullets
whistle above his head and patter into the water around
him. It is evident that lie is yet within the range of
vision of the sharp-shooters, so he draws a long breath
and sinks below the level again, striking out strong, and
swimming until forced to regain the air.
The confusion of voices is yet audible, but when lie
turns his eyes in the direction of the clamor nothing is
visible save the indistinct outline of the shore; then he
knows that he no longer affords a mark for the soldiers
on the dock.
But another cause of alarm is quickly manifest, for he
catches the sound of the thud of oars as they pound
against the rowlocks, telling him that the enemy have
manned a boat and are seeking him. Before he can de-
cide as to the direction in which to swim in order to get
out of the track of the on-coming craft, it looms up only
a few yards from him.
There is only one course to pursue, so, catching a quick
breath, he quietly sinks, and the boat passes over the spot
where the bubbles on the water mark his disappearance.
Until he experiences a sense of suffocation he remains
under, swimming off at right angles to the path of his
seekers, so that his head may not be in line with the eyes
of the rowers when he regains the surface.
When he again casts his anxious eyes around, nothing
FEBRUARY 5, 1S95.
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
243
is seen, so he throws himself on his back and floats while
recovering his strength, and shortly after strikes out for
the opposite bank of the river, which he reaches after a
weary trial, then creeps into the underbrush, and sleeps
from exhaustion.
The sun is high when he awakes. Parting the wild
foliage, he looks across and up the stream at the scene of
his exploit. The dock is plainly to be seen, but the Albe-
marle has disappeared. Looking intently, he sees two
masts rising from the water near the pier, and is thus as-
sured that the career of the rebel ship is ended.
Ha! What causes that rustling of the foliage to his
right? Is it an animal, or is it an enemy in search of him?
Almost naked, and altogether defenceless, he watches
breathlessly.
He promises himself that he will never be taken alive.
Better to die than to endure the tortures of a Southern
prison. The bushes part a little further, and a man's sun-
browned face and brawny bare shoulders and tattooed
arms come into view.
"Jack!" says the Lieutenant, in a loud, glad whisper.
"Lieutenant!" responds the seaman, in a tone of equal
surprise and gladness.
All day the officer and his companion, the only sur-
vivors of the expedition, work their way painfully through
the swamp, and just as the sun is sinking they drag their
bare bleeding feet and cruelly lacerated bodies out on the
bank of the river opposite the Union fleet.
All hands have been called to " make sunset," and the
men are silently standing by the signal halyards and boat-
falls waiting for the word of command, when the quarter-
master on the bridge of the flag-ship quickly levels his
telescope at the shore, then hurriedly approaches and ad-
dresses the officer of the deck, who stands beside the Cap-
tain. The latter takes the glass from the seaman, peers
through it for an instant, wheels sharply around, and
speaks to the Lieutenant.
" Away, first cutter!" roars the latter.
The boatswain's mate blows a shrill pipe, and repeats
the order.
"Go down the boat -falls, boys; lively's the word!
Jump into the cutter, Mr. Arnold, and pull into the beach
for the men 1"
Half an hour later Lieutenant Gushing comes over the
gangway, and salutes the Commodore. " I report my re-
turn 011 board with one man, sir," he says; "the Albe-
marle is destroyed."
WATER COLDER THAN ICE.
BY GIFFORD LE CLEAR
THE freezing-point of water is 32° by the Fahrenheit ther-
mometer; but it is possible, by taking certain precautions,
to cool water several degrees below the freezing-point without
its freezing.
The experiment can be performed with very cheap and simple
apparatus, but it requires some little care to carry it through
successfully. The apparatus you need is a "test-tube" about
half an inch in diameter (you can get this from any druggist
for a cent or two) and a cheap thermometer ; also some salt
and cracked ice or snow, and a eontainiug-vessel about the size
of a quart measure.
lu the first place, clean the test-tube thoroughly; then put in
about an inch and a half of pure water, distilled, if you can get
it, and boll over a caudle flame to remove the air from the water.
Boil away the water so that there is just enough left to cover
the bulb of the thermometer when it is placed in the test-tube.
Mark with a tile the freezing-point on the stem of the ther-
mometer, and remove from the board to which it is fastened.
Put the thermometer in the test-tube so that the bulb is just
clear of the bottom of the tube, holding it there by means of
a piece of pasteboard, which rests on the top of the tube and
through which the thermometer passes. Now put a couple of
drops of oil in the test-tube. This will spread and form a thin
film over the surface of the water. The test-tube is now to be
put in a mixture of salt and crushed ice.
Salt always tries to unite with water whenever it can. It
even takes it from the atmosphere on damp days. The salt over
the cracked ice wishes to unite with the water of which the ice
is composed, but cannot do so till the ice is melted. As the salt
cannot melt the ice of itself, it calls upon all neighboring sub-
stances to help it. Now it requires heat to melt ice, and so the
only way the neighboring substances cau melt the ice is to givr
up their own heat : consequently they grow cold, and we call a
mixture of salt and ice a cooling mixture. The mixture of this
experiment should he about one-third salt, but care should be
taken not to let the mixture fall below 15° Fahrenheit.
When you put the test-tube in the cooling mixture, the mer-
cury of the thermometer will begin to descend very rapidly, but
if you keep everything very still the mercury will not stop at
• >'l . as you would expect it to, but will travel on down past 3.'°.
Now watch the mercury very carefully, for after it reaches a
certain point it will rise to 32° so quickly that you may not see
it if you look away for an instant. When the mercury has
jumped iu this way to 32°, remove the test-tube, and you will
find the water in it frozen.
Melt the water by the heat of your hand, and repeat; but
when the mercury has almost reached the point from which it
jumped to 32° before, remove the test-tube carefully, and you
will find that the water is not frozen. Here you have water
colder than ice. Now comes the prettiest part of the experi-
ment. Move the thermometer ever so little, and instantly, be-
fore your very eyes, the water will freeze. At the same time
the mercury will rise to 32°. It would seem, then, that water in
freezing gives out heat. This is perfectly true, and will hear
thinking over a little.
Now repeat the experiment, but instead of freezing the water
by moving the thermometer drop iu a very small piece of ice.
As before, the water will instantly freeze. Sometimes the mer-
cury will fall to 32° and stay there. This shows that the water
has frozen, and you must try again.
The exact reason for this phenomenon is not known. In fact,
no one is quite sun- just what the oil does. One of its duties,
at least, may be to keep the air away from the water: but just
why the air must be kept away, it is hardly safe to say. How-
ever, if you do not boil the water at first, so as to remove the
air from the water, the experiment will almost certainly fail.
A RUSSIAN SLED.
rilO think of Russia is to think of six-month winters, of
J. long low sleighs dashing over country roads behind
sturdy horses with bells hung on yokes over their shoul-
ders, of log houses half buried in snow, and of peasants
in sheepskin coats with the wool turned inside. Living
in Russia is not so pleasant as living in the west of Eu-
rope. Siberia is near, and grown-up people who do not
have the same opinions as the majority of their fellow-
subjects are put in prison or set to work in mines like
criminals. Neither is being a boy in Russia as much fun
as being a boy in the United States, especially if the Rus-
sian boy happens to be a peasant. He does not have to go to
school, because there is no public-school system in Russia,
and learning is considered by the government a danger-
ous thing, suited only to the rich and the nobility. But
lack of school does not mean leisure for the Russian pea-
sant boy, who begins to work, as a matter of course, al-
most as soon as he can walk, and grows up to a life of
hardship, with little prospect of becoming anything but
a tiller of the soil for some rich man, who will hold a
mortgage on his land, his crops, and pretty nearly every-
thing else that is worth mortgaging.
But the Russian boy. like every other, has his hours of
fun. He cannot work all through the long cold winter,
and it is then that he enjoys most of his sports. Snow
is to him as natural a form of water as any other, and he
makes the most of it for sleigh - riding, coasting, and
building block - houses, very much as the lad of the
northern United States does, while the rivers and lakes
furnish plenty of skating. The Norwegian boy combines
his sled and his snow-shoes in the form of skies, whii'h
are long strips of wood, on which he walks and coasts
down the hills and through the valleys. The Russian
244
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.'
BY \V. J. HENDERSON.
RUSSIAN BOYS1 NOVEL COASTING.
peasant boy's sled is even more curious. The cold wea-
ther builds it for him, and he has to have a new one
every winter, for it is nothing more, or very little more,
than a block of ice. Riding down hill on a cake of ice
would not seem to us very amusing, except, perhaps, to
the spectators, who might enjoy it as a sort of frozen
tub-race. As a matter of fact, though, a cake of ice in
the hands of a Russian boy will make a very good and
rapid sled. He saws out a block that is longer than it is
thick, and about high enough for a comfortable seat.
Then he scoops out a hollow like a saddle a little back
of the middle of the upper surface, and upholsters it with
straw or rags. It is then ready for its first trip down
hill, and if the rider is skilful he will make very good
time on it. But carrying it back to the top of the in-
cline would be too hard work for even a Russian boy,
and pushing it up bill would be about as bad. A clever
lad once thought of a better way, and all other boys
have copied him ever since. He found a good rye straw,
and began blowing through it at the front of the block
with the end of the straw close to the ice. Soon he had
a little hole in the block, as neatly drilled as a steel tool
could have done it. In the course of an hour and a half
he had driven a hole slantwise through the ice, coming
out at the top just in front of the saddle. A stout string
passed through the hole and knotted completed his sled,
which could then be drawn up hill almost as easily as
the best coaster that ever was made. If a boy is careful
of his ice sled — and he is apt to be careful, for consider-
able work is necessary to make one — it will last all win-
ter. Imagine him freezing on a new set of runners when
the old ones have worn out!
CHAPTER XXVII.
HAROLD USES STRONG WORDS.
[SUPPOSE we're aboard the Aquida-
&«»," said Captain Lockwood, after a
few moments of silence.
"That is 'true," said Frank; "though for
the life of me I can't understand how you
came here."
"Lost in the fog, my boy, trying to get
aboard the Alma."
"Then she has left her wharf?"
" Yes; she's safe at anchor."
"And you've all been ashore to rescue
Bob?"
"That's it."
" But, Uncle Hiram, this is simply terri-
ble. He's under sentence of death, and here
the whole lot of you have walked straight
into the lion's jaws."
"It seems that I am doomed to bad luck !"
i-xflainied Robert. "I'd better end it all
now; there's plenty of water here."
He made a movement toward the ship's
rail, but Harold and George seized him.
" Waitabit, sir," said Peter; " never sink
so long as ye can swim, an' there ain't no
hole knocked into ye yet."
" My son," said Captain Lockwood, " there
must be a way out of this. Be patient."
" Bob, old fellow," said Frank, " I've suf-
fered enough since I was such a fool as to
enlist under a foreign flag. Don't add to
my misery. We must find a way to save
you. Do you know where you are?"
" Never a bit, except that we're on Mel-
lo's deck," answered the Captain.
" You're in the cove just south of the Sugar Loaf."
" Great Scott!" exclaimed Hal; "we must have rowed
over four miles trying- to find the bark."
"But now that we're here," said Captain Lockwood,
" what's to be done with us?"
"I don't know," said Frank; "I haven't made any
report yet. I was ordered to find out who you were and
what you were about. If you'll just wait here till I re-
port, I'll soon be able to let you know."
Frank hastened away, and laid the case before the
officer of the deck, who, fortunately, chanced to be his
good friend Roderigo Bennos.
" You must tell the Captain," said Bennos.
Accordingly he directed Frank to carry the report in
person to the Commanding Officer. The boy did as he
was ordered, but he did not deem it necessary to say that
the American skipper who had come aboard was the Cap-
tain of the bark Alma.
" Let them remain," said the Commanding Officer.
" But if they wish to go ashore when the fog lifts?"
" Let them remain till I am ready to talk with them."
Frank saluted and left the cabin. He understood that,
although nothing of the kind had been directly said, the
Alma's party were prisoners. The boy was hot with in-
dignation, but he had no tangible fact to grasp, and even
if he had he would not have profited by expostulation.
" You are to remain aboard the ship for the present,"
he said, when he had rejoined his friends.
" And Bob?" demanded the Captain.
"Well," said Frank, " perhaps no one will recognize
him, and you may be able to get him off when you go."
* Beirun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 7S4.
FEBRUARY 5, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
245
"But," said Hal, "if they should afterward discover
who he was, Frank, you would be in serious trouble for
letting him go."
" I'll take my chances of that," said Frank, decisively.
"God bless you!" said Captain Lockwood, wringing
his nephew's hand.
At that moment the shriek of a boatswain's pipe arose,
and a command was shouted.
"What's that?" asked George.
" It's up anchor," said Frank; " I suppose we're going
up the bay. We came down only last night, but up and
down like a seesaw appears to be a large part of our
business."
" What's to become of my boat?" asked the Captain.
" We'll tow it up," answered Frank.
"I suppose that '11 do," said the Captain.
He was by no means satisfied with the aspect of af-
fairs, yet there was nothing that seemed to call for a
serious complaint. The monotonous clanking of the
heavy cable was now the only sound that disturbed the
night. The fog was drifting off in writhing shreds
among the crannies of the mountains, and the dim light
of a young crescent moon fell across the peaceful waters.
Presently the ship began to swing slowly around, show-
ing that the anchor was a weigh. Then the calm of the
night was suddenly broken by the blare of a bugle.
"What's that?" asked Hal, with a sudden start.
"That's quarters," said Frank; "we never attempt to
go into the bay without going to quarters. As soon as
we poke our bow out of the cover of this mountain Fort
Santa Cruz will open on us."
"But," said Hal, sternly, "your commander has no
right to put us under fire of the fort. Your uncle and
cousin are non-combatants, and George and I are officers
in the service of a neutral power."
"I know all that,
Hal," said Frank. "I'll
see Uncle Hiram and
Minnie, together with
Bob, in a place of safety
— though, for the matter
of that, almost any place
is safe, for they seldom
hit us — but I don't see
that I can do anything
for you."
"Let me see the Cap-
tain."
Harold's request was
taken to the cabin, and
he was invited to enter.
An interpreter had to be
provided, and then the
boy said :
"We are citizens of
the United States placed
aboard your vessel by ac-
cident. Our boat is tow-
ing astern, and we desire
to leave your ship."
"It is not convenient
for me to stop now," was
the reply.
"I protest, sir, against
your course as outrage-
•ous," said the boy firmly.
" Your protest is of no
avail," was the answer.
"You have no right
to place two American
officers and an American
seaman under fire," said
Harold.
" If the American officers are afraid they are at liberty
to go below the water- line," said the Brazilian com-
mander.
"Afraid!" exclaimed Harold. "We come from the
Detroit."
At these words the Brazilian's face became very stern.
"You will remain aboard this ship, "he said, "till we
reach our anchorage. We shall then set you ashore;
not before. As for the merchant Captain and his chil-
dren we shall do as we like with him."
" Very well, sir," said Harold, taking advantage of the
officer's mistake; "I shall make it my business to have
this affair reported in detail to Admiral Benham, and if
you do the slightest harm to Captain Lockwood or his
children you may rely upon it that the commander of
the American fleet will blow you out of the water."
With these words the boy turned and strode out of the
cabin without saluting.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A SHELL THROUGH THE PORT.
THE boy rejoined his party on deck, and reported the
failure of his mission.
"They're a fine lot," said Captain Lockwood.
At this moment Frank, who had been attending to
his duties in preparing the guns for action, returned.
"Come," he said to Captain Lockwood, "you and 3Iin-
nie and Bob must be put in a place of safety."
"I wouldn't go if it wasn't for her," said the sturdy
old seaman.
"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed George. "You don't
want to give these fellows the satisfaction of seeing you
hurt, do you? Besides, it may prevent Bob from being
recognized."
HAROLD SPRANG FORWARD WITH A LOUD CRY, "IT'S FRANK!"
246
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
They all descended to the gun-deck, where Frank
paused to point out to them the particular gun which he
commanded.
"I don't wonder you're sick of the whole business,"
said Hal.
Just then the Captain of the ship appeared, and calling
Frank to him, asked what he was doing. The boy ex-
plained briefly. The Brazilian Captain smiled and said,
''Tell your two young naval friends that I should be
delighted to give them guns to command."
"I wonder what he's talking about?" asked George,
who saw from the man's face that the words referred to
himself and Harold.
Frank went over to the boys and repeated his superior
officer's words.
"The impudent old scoundrel !" exclaimed George.
"Bully boy!" said Captain Lock wood.
Minnie's face expressed alarm mingled with admira-
tion for the boy's boldness. The Brazilian commander
stepped over to where they were standing.
"Accept my compliments, sir," said Harold, looking
the Brazilian full in the eye, "and understand that we
both command guns which your friends aboard the
Guanabara did not care to hear speak."
The officer's face flushed, and he spoke sharply to
Frank.
"Put those two young men under arrest."
Frank turned pale, and stood speechless and motion-
less.
"Do you hear my order?" demanded the Captain.
"Sir," said Frank, drawing his sword, and offering the
hilt to his commander, "I cannot obey that order."
The Brazilian stood for an instant regarding the boy
with amazement.
" Cannot obey !" he ejaculated.
" No, sir," said Frank ; " these gentlemen are my coun-
trymen, my classmates, my friends. It is not —
" Enough, sir! Do as I bid you, or I will —
"I don't care what you do," cried Frank. "I have
suffered too much already in the service of a foreign flag.
I have tried to resign, but you have refused to let me.
Now I wish I could die. But so sure as there is a sun
in the heavens, so sure will I refuse now and forever to
lift my hand against the American flag or any man who
serves it."
The Brazilian drew his revolver and levelled it at the
boy. Harold and George both sprang before him, the
former seizing his arm.
"Here, arrest these two fellows!" cried the officer to
the nearest gun's crew.
"Are you crazy?" asked Harold.
At that instant the heavy roar of a gun from Fort
Santa Cruz was heard, and a deafening crash told that a
well-aimed shot had struck the Aqufdaban above the
deck. Captain Lockwood threw his arms around his ter-
rified daughter and drew her to his breast. The Brazil-
ian commander with a mighty effort gained control of
himst'l f.
" We shall speak of this matter at another time," he
said to Frank. "Your friends may remain at liberty.
To your station !"
The boy saluted and went to his gun. A petty officer
led Captain Lockwood, Robert, and Minnie to a safe place
behind the armor belt. Harold and George remained on
the gun deck quietly watching the operations. The lei-
surely manner of the Brazilians caused the American
boys to smile contemptuously.
"No wonder this war lasts so long," said George.
"And no wonder so little is accomplished," added
Harold.
For once, however, the soldiers of the Republic in the
forts seemed to be aroused to activity. The scene be-
came intensely interesting. The powerful battle-ship was
weak in propelling force, her engines being in poor order,
and she moved through the narrow entrance to the har-
bor slowly. She was a shining mark in the faint moon-
light, and had the soldiers been better shots great dam-
age might have been done to her. She was a noble sight.
as she thundered up the bay, her sides ablaze with the
constant flashing of her mighty guns, and a vast canopy
of gray smoke rolling over her. The forts every second
sprang into red and glowing relief against the hills as
their bellowing guns lit up the night and set the echoes
booming along the rocky crests. Occasionally a terrific
shock would be felt as a heavy missile struck one of the
turrets or the armor-belt of the Aquidaban, but as a
rule the shots passed harmlessly above her decks or
plunged into the water, sending tall columns of ghostly
spray up into the moonlight.
Frank Lockwood was doing his duty with reckless
bitterness. He watched the range, and kept the breech-
sight rightly placed with ceaseless vigilance. He was
continually running from the breech of his gun to the
port and giving directions to the gun-captain. He seemed
to be determined that the weapon should do deadly work.
"Stupid!" he exclaimed to the gun-captain, "you pull
your lanyard before you have covered your mark. What
is the use of wasting ammunition so?"
The man muttered something in Portuguese.
" Any American cadet can shoot better. George, come
and show him how to hit the fort."
" Of course I will," exclaimed George.
He sprang forward, and was about to take the lanyard
from the man's hand when Harold seized his arm:
" What on earth are you thinking about?" cried Hal.
" Do you want to be dismissed from the service?"
"Dismissed? Wliy?" asked George, pausing.
"For firing on a friendly fort."
"But it is not I wlio fire," said George. "It's the
Aquiddban."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Harold.
" It's good sense, I think, "declared George.
"No, old man, you're wrong."
" Well, the skipper '11 never know anything about it."
" You can't be sure of that."
"You would tell?"
"No; but such things can't be kept secret. Some of
these men would talk about it, and it would eventually
become known."
"Come, come!" cried the division officer. "Why is
that gun silent?"
Frank stepped forward and took the lanyard from
George's hand.
" Harold is right,'' he said. " I am the only American
naval cadet who has a right to do this — I, Frank Lock-
wood, the mercenary."
The boy bent down and glanced along the sights, giv-
ing orders to the trainers and elevators in a firm tone.
Suddenly he jerked the lanyard, and the gun roared out
its message. At almost the same instant there was a
deafening report, a blinding glare, and a great cloud of
dust and smoke. A small shell from the fort had en-
tered the port and exploded against the gun-carriage,
shattering it and dismounting the gun. For a few sec-
onds no one could see what had happened. A moment
later the smoke cleared away, and it was discovered that
one man lay stretched upon the deck. Harold sprang;
forward with a loud cry:
"It's Frank!"
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
A VARIATION.
'I CANNOT go to school to-day."
"What, sick ajiniii ?" Tom's mother said.
'Oh no; I'm well, anil full of play ;
This time the teacher's sick in bed!"
FEBRUARY 5, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
247
THE RED DEVILS' RESCUE.
BY L. A. TEREBEL.
rTIHEY called it the Red Devil Snow-shoe Club, because
_L the members wore red toques and red stockings and
red mittens and red mufflers, and every other piece of ap-
parel of a red hue that they could possibly secure. Bob
Moreley was elected president of the club and chief Red
Devil, principally because he had a complete suit made
out of a red blanket; but it turned out afterwards that
Bob had other qualities which fairly entitled him to the
highest office in the organization. In addition to Bob
there were fifteen other Red Devils.
Up in New Hampshire, where there is no nonsense
about winter, the snow comes with Santa Claus, and
buries the whole country-side in deep drifts, which stay
right there until spring. And so almost every Saturday
during the cold months the Red Devils, in all their crim-
son glory, would gather in front of Bob Moreley's house,
and Tad Wallace would drag up the club's baby tobog-
gan, the "Whizzer," and Bob's mother would pack the
basket with sandwiches and apples, and then Tad, as com-
missary of the organization, would strap the basket se-
curely to the " Whizzer,'' and tie a fagot of dry wood on
top of it, and Bob would give the command, and the red
company would swing out into the road and over the
fields toward the river or the woods. At the end of a
couple of hours' march Bob would call a halt, camp would
be formed, and Tad would build the fire and heat the tea
or coffee that had been provided for the Red Devils, and
then each Red Devil would get his share in a tin cup,
and sandwiches and apples from the basket.
"There's going to be great doings at our house in a
couple of weeks," said Tad, as the Red Devils sat around
their camp-fire the first Saturday after New- Year's. " It's
father's and mother's golden anniversary of their wed-
ding on the 28th, and all my brothers and sisters are com-
ing home to celebrate."
" Hurrah !" shouted Bob. " And will the Red Devils
be in it?"
" Will they be in it?" said Tad, with emphasis. "Well
— will they?" And all the boys laughed. But when he
said this Tad had no idea how very much "in it " the
Red Devils would be.
On the morning of the 26th the skies became very dark,
and a thin flue snow began to fall. Then the wind rose
and blew fiercer and fiercer all the afternoon, until by
night a storm was raging such as had not been known
since the great blizzard. The next morning it was im-
possible to move about the streets. Drifts ten and twelve
feet high hid the fences, the roads were entirely oblit-
erated, and horses and sleighs were not even to be
thought of. The operator at the railroad station sent
word up to the Wallaces that no trains could get through
in either direction that day, as the road was completely
blocked, and the wires were down on all sides. Of course
no one knew whether the special car with the anniver-
sary guests had started from Boston, and as the telegraph
wires were down, the only thing to do was to await de-
velopments. It was still snowing, and the big flakes
kept on falling all the day of the 27th, and did not cease
until late in the night. The village was as if dead, ex-
cept for the smoke that curled up out of all the chimneys.
Everything was snow-bound.
When the towns-people got up on the morning of the
28th they set to work to burrow through the drifts, and
some of the more venturesome ones struggled as far as
the butcher's or the grocer's for provisions. It was the
day of the golden anniversary, but there were no guests
on hand to celebrate.
News came, however, at ten o'clock that morning. A
man, all covered with ice and snow, struggled into the
village and battled his way through the billowy streets to
the Wallace house, where he fell exhausted at the door-
step. He was taken into the kitchen, where he was grad-
ually revived under warm drinks and chafing; but no
one knew who he was, and it was some time before he
could speak. Tad's father and mother were there, and
Tad was there, and beside him stood Bob Moreley, who
had ploughed his way through the drifts to make a morn-
ing call.
Finally the man recovered strength enough to explain
that he was a farmer who lived about six miles from the
village, not far from where the railroad tracks turn the
swamp. He said a train had gotten stalled in the snow
near there the day before, and that the people could get
nothing to eat, as there were no houses near but his,
and what little store he had was exhausted. There were
women and children on the train, and one child was very
sick. He had started at three o'clock in the morning for
help, and he had a letter from one of the passengers for
Mr. Wallace. The letter was from Tad's eldest brother,
and it said that the party in the special car was suffering
greatly from hunger, that his youngest child must have
a doctor or it might not live, and that one of the trainmen
had both feet frozen.
"It's no use, though," sighed the man. "We can't
help 'em. The drifts are twenty feet deep, and the train's
fully six miles from here. No horse or sleigh can travel
the road. A hundred men could not reach 'em."
"No," shouted Bob Moreley, "but the Red Devils can.
The Red Devils to the rescue!" And he rushed out of
the kitchen like a wild man.
Tad had caught his meaning at once, and began to ex-
plain to his father that the Red Devils would put on their
snow-shoes, and travel over the thin crust across country,
over the swamp about four miles, and take relief to the
snow bound sufferers. The "Whizzer" was quickly
brought out, and another old toboggan was dragged
down from the stable loft. Tad's mother and the ser-
vants worked as fast as their hands could move packing
the good tilings that had been intended for the anniver-
sary dinner, and in less than an hour the "Whizzer"
and the old toboggan were heaped with baskets. In the
mean while the Red Devils, summoned by Bob, had been
arriving, one by one.
" But how about the doctor?" asked Tad's mother.
Mr.Wallace had sent for the doctor, and he was in the
house. He had never snow-shoed, and of course it would
be impossible for him to travel four or five miles over the
thin crust any other way. But Bob came to the rescue.
" Why not pack the doctor on the toboggan and drag
him there?" he said.
"There's no more room on the toboggans," said Tad.
"They're almost too heavy now."
"Then we must make another," said Bob. It took
some minutes to determine how this should be done, but
finally, at Tad's suggestion, two smooth boards were
nailed together, and a snow-shovel was fastened at the
forward end, so as to make the curve. A soap-box was
nailed on as a seat for the doctor, ropes were attached,
and two hours after the messenger's arrival the Red
Devil relief expedition was starting over the drifted fields.
They had a hard time at first, until they got out into
the open country, where the snow had not drifted so
heavily, because there was nothing much for it to drift up
against. The boys took turns at pulling the toboggans
for fifteen or twenty minutes at a time, helping one an-
other up hills and over rough places. They did not try
to follow the roads, but made a cut across the country,
taking their directions from the doctor, who had a small
compass on his watch chain, and acted as a sort of navi-
gating officer for the expedition. But in spite of the fact
that the doctor had none of the hard physical work of
dragging to perform, he probably had the worst time of
any of the rescuers. More than once he was upset into
IT TOOK JUST THREE-QUARTERS OF AN HOUR TO REPAIR DAMAGES AND PACIFY THE DOCTOR.
snow-drifts, where the crust was too thiii to support the
toboggan, and then it took the combined efforts of half a
dozen of the boys to get him out.
After an hour's travel the unfortunate physician looked
more like Santa Glaus than anything else. His hands
and feet were numb, and two miniature streams of cold
water trickled down his back from the melting snow that
kept getting into his neck and ears. But otherwise the
expedition got along pretty well, until it came to the top
of the hill that slopes down for fully half a mile, and
ends at the swamp which had to be crossed. Tad sug-
gested that it would be much easier and quicker to coast
down the hill on the toboggans than to go down any oth-
er way, and one of the other boys immediately proposed
that the three toboggans have a race. The doctor ob-
jected vigorously to this, but the boys overruled his ob-
jections, and before lie knew what had happened he was
whizzing down the hill with a couple of Red Devils ou
the back of his toboggan, and a toboggan-load of other
Red Devils on either side of him, and with more Red
Devils who had not been able to find room on the sleds
charging down the hills behind him, howling like sav-
ages.
Now an improvised toboggan is not the best thing in
the world to race on. It is not fitted for the strain. And
the doctor's toboggan, as we know, was a very hastily
improvised affair. Consequently, when it ran afoul of
a concealed stump half-way down the hill, the boards
and the snow-shovel parted company with a crack and a
shock that sent the doctor and his companion Devils roll-
ing head over heels down the icy incline into the swamp,
where the doctor landed in an icy pool. It took them just
three-quarters of an hour to repair damages and to pacify
the doctor, who was so much irritated that he wanted to
walk the rest of the way; but at the end of that time
they got started again, and in half an hour they had
fought their way through the thick bushes and had
crossed the swamp. When they came to the far edge
of it and broke out of the undergrowth, they caught
sight of the train almost completely buried in the snow.
At the anniversary dinner, which occurred about a
week later, Tad's eldest brother made a speech, in which
he told of the adventures of the party in the special car.
He told of how melancholy and depressed every one was
on the train.
" I sat looking out of the window of the car," he con-
tinued, "wondering if all that snow would ever melt,
and praying that some sort of assistance might come to
us. My eyes rested on the distant swamp, when sudden-
ly I saw what looked to me like a band of Indians mov-
ing about in the bushes in all their feathers and war-
paint. I did not believe it possible that there could be
any savages in New Hampshire, but I could not discredit
my eyes when the figures came in full view and set up
a wild war-whoop. I felt convinced we were about to
be scalped, for the Indians grabbed their sleds and made
for the train as if they were thirsting for our chilly blood.
It was not until the baud was almost upon us that we
recognized the boys, and I shall remember that sight and
the feelings I had as long as I live. Heaven bless the
Red Devils! They came over the snow like a hurricane,
and their impetus was so great that they could hardly
stop their toboggans. We picked the doctor up from
under the baggage-car, and took him in and thawed him
out. And I don't blame him for refusing to go back
with the Red Devils."
And all this happened just exactly a year ago.
THE '"SCUTNEY MAIL.'
THE STORY OF A YOUNG PEOPLE'S NEWSPAPER VENTURE.
BY SOPHIE SWETT.
JJavt £•£.
' T THINK we'd better propitiate "em," Macurdy said,
JL shaking his head sagely, when Tom told him of Lu-
ella's exactions, and called upon him to think of some
way by which the paper could be made correct in gram-
mar, and yet dispense with the services of girls.
"You can't leave girls out of your calc'lations," he
continued, seriously. 'l They kind of hang together, and
if you get them all down on the paper, why, you might
as well not have any paper — that's all."
"They'll want to fill it full of compositions; the kind
they tie up with blue ribbons; all about flowers and little
brooks, "said Tom, dejectedly.
"It ought to be easy to manage girls; we'll manage
'em,'' said Macurdy.
But Tom shook his head gloomily. "You haven't got
sisters," he said.
It was finally arranged that Luella should be al-
lowed to call herself the " literary editor," in very small
type, and that everybody, "girls 'n' all," as Macurdy said,
should be at liberty to send in contributions, but that
nothing should appear in the paper without the consent
of "the whole editorial staff." (That phrase was also
Macurdy 's.)
"She can't complain of that; they can't any of 'em
complain," said Macurdy, V-ith a modest sense of being
equal to the occasion.
Tom didn't feel quite so sure of Luella's "sweet rea-
sonableness," but the readiness with which Macurdy took
hold of difficulties was cheering.
The question of the paper's name came up next. Tom
wished to call it The War Wlioop, or The Boomerang,
or at least The 'Scutney Boom; he thought it should be
a name that would make people understand that they
wrere "up and coming." But Macurdy thought those
names sounded more like a paper that was going to stir
up things just for a while than one that was meant to
last. To his mind an ordinary " grown up name" was
much better; he liked The Journal, or The News, or Tlie
Sun, 01 —
"Or The Mail," suggested Tom.
And Macurdy thought that name the best of all, be-
cause it sounded as if news had come from the world
outside as well as from 'Scutney.
Tom gave up his striking names the more readily be-
cause he had thought of the best one of the " grown-up "
kind; it didn't look well for Macurdy Green to think of
everything when he was the proprietor of the paper.
'GIRLS AGAIN!" EJACULATED TOM. UNDER HIS BREATH.
250
HARPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME
"I'm going to send to Leuton for the paper and ink,
Monday," lie said. "Father says I may. And he says
we may "have our old tool-house for a publishing-house
and office; there are two rooms, you know. I wish it
was nearer the street."
Macurdy shook his head decidedly. "Plenty of peo-
ple will come. Editors don't like to be bothered."
" We'll have the old building painted — •" began Tom.
"Next spring," interrupted Macurdy. "We must be
sure that the paper is going to pay first."
"You're the greatest fellow to think about making
things pay," said Tom. "But I should like to know
how it pays you to spend so much time on that Jim !" he
went on, in an aggrieved tone. "He was on the wagon
with you and Mr. Bigsby coming home from the store,
and that was why you couldn't stop, I s'pose. You had
got to help him take care of that bundle he was carrying."
Tom had a well-developed bump of curiosity, and he
thought he ought to know what there was in that bundle
which Macurdy had been helping Jim to hold on to as the
wagon jolted along. When he reached Farmer Bigsby's
that afternoon, he had found Jim just locking the door of
the granary and thrusting the key hastily into his pocket ;
that queer-looking bundle was probably locked up there.
Tom wouldn't ask what it was; he had asked what there
was in that granary too many times already, only to re-
ceive an evasive reply. But he sternly resolved that lie
would very soon make Macurdy understand that between
a publisher and his editor there must be no secrets.
Macurdy's freckled face grew red up to the rim of
Farmer Bigsby's old hat. "Jim hasn't got anybody but
me," said lie. " He and I are just alike; we haven't got
anybody but each other. And he knows a lot more than
folks think he does, if his mind does trouble him some.
He'll help us about the paper."
"I don't think that would do," said Tom, in quick
alarm. Who knew but Jim would expect to have his
name on the paper as some kind of editor? "He isn't
what you could call very smart, anyway." Tom tried to
speak delicately, for Macurdy was sensitive.
"If he should write what he knows about animals, I
guess you'd want it in the paper," said Macurdy, stoutly.
"There's nobody round here that knows so much."
"That's because he belonged to a circus company, I
s'pose," said Tom.
But Macurdy shook his head. "I don't think he had
belonged to it for long," he said. " He doesn't seem to
remember much about it. And the circus people said he
had run away from home and joined them only a little
while before they got here."
"Some people think he's rich, and that he's hiding
money 'round," hazarded Tom, glancing at Macurdy.
"That's a likely story, isn't it?" said Macurdy, scorn-
fullv. "I wish I knew where he came from, "he went
on, anxiously. " I'm afraid they'll send him to the State
poor farm in the spring. It doesn't belong to 'Scutney
to take care of him, and the Selectmen are talking about
it. He doesn't have a very bad time here, if he does have
to make up beds and wash dishes. I used to wash dishes
for him ; that's how I learned to do it so well that Mrs.
Bigsby makes me do it all the time." And Macurdy
heaved a long sigh, from a consciousness that good deeds
do not always bring the reward that one might expect.
"I wish Jim could find his own folks, or that you
would stop trying to be own folks to him, "grumbled Tom.
" I'm afraid it's going to be a hinderance to that paper."
"A fellow has to have more than one thing on his
mind in this world," said Macurdy, with an anxious glance
towards the old granary.
Tom made up his mind that it was time for a serious
remonstrance with Macurdy, but just as he had braced
himself against the pigpen and prepared to begin, girls'
voices were heard eagerly calling "Tom Pickering," and
Nelly Lamphier and Bobsy Briggs came running into the-
barn.
Tom felt a sudden regret that he had allowed himself
to talk about the prospective paper to Halsey Briggs and
Dick Lamphier on his u;:y over to see Macurdy. Some
brothers had to run to their sisters with everything, he
thought, indignantly.
"We want to put advertisements into the paper right
away the very first number!" announced Bobsy.
"If there's a good circulation," interposed Nelly Lam-
phier. "Uncle Albert said we mustn't promise any ads
— that's what he called them, ads — unless you can guaran-
tee a good circulation."
" Girls again !" ejaculated Tom, under his breath.
" I want to advertise my three Angora kittens," pursued
Bobsy, who had a less prudent mind than her friend.
"They must give five dollars apiece and love them, and
six for the white one; and shall I pay nails, or pins, or
cookies? I can pay a large doughilut boy — or even twins."
Bobsy evidently felt a great sense of importance from
her ability to make so munificent an offer, and she was.
much astonished at Macurdy's laugh and Tom's scowl.
"Nails and doughnut boys, indeed!" cried Tom, scorn-
fully— as scornfully as if he had not himself done much
business with such commodities as legal tender. " If you
want to advertise your kittens, you can pay so much a
line — so much money. I don't know whether we want
to take such advertisements —
"Oil, yes, yes," hastily interposed Macurdy, who had
an eye to business. "Twenty-five cents for one inser-
tion, thirty-seven cents for two; you'd better take two.
If you only sold one kitten it would pay you to adver-
tise. You can't expect, you know, to sell your kittens
for five dollars apiece, and pay us only doughnut boys
for advertising them."
Bobsy pulled her worsted Tarn o' Shanter down over
her stubby tow-colored bangs, as if it were a thinking-
cap, and reflected deeply.
"This is real business," explained Macurdy. "We
expect to get up a paper that will grow up with us."
Bobsy and her friend looked at each other.
"We didn't think of its being a truly paper. You're
only boys," said Nelly Lamphier.
"Have you got truly kittens to advertise?" asked Tom,
with what he felt to be great acuteness. " Or are they
only those stuffed things that the girls make?"
"They're real live kittens!" said Bobsy, indignantly.
" And I like it better to advertise them in a real paper,"
she added. " I'm awful sick of make-believes. But I
can't pay until the kittens are sold."
" Maybe you think we're like those medical fellows
that advertise ' no cure, no pay,' " said Tom, angrily.
" We've got to propitiate 'em," whispered Macurdy.
" I can pay when I open my bank. It will open when
there are ten dollars in it, and there are fifteen cents
now," said Bobsy, hopefully.
" I think we can make an arrangement that will be
satisfactory, Miss Briggs," said Macurdy, politelj'. "And
we shall be open for business in our — our counting-room
and editorial sanctum, on Dr. Pickering's grounds, by
the last of next week."
Bobsy was so greatly abashed by this ceremonious
speech that she slowly drew off her mitten and thrust her
thumb into her mouth, while Nelly Lamphier stared at
Macurdy for a moment, and then drew her friend away.
" D' you see me manage 'em?" demanded Macurdy.
" They're only little ones; wait until you have to man-
age the big ones," said Tom, with a shake of the head.
" I don't expect that paper is going to be published
without any difficulties, "said Macurdy, seriously. "That
isn't the way of this world. But I like to pounce right
on to difficulties and get the upper hand of 'em. It
makes a fellow feel as if he was somebody."
FEBRUARY 5, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
251
"You can't pounce on to girls and — and crazy folks."
Tom had caught sight of Jim coming towards the
barn, and felt vaguely irritated. He said to himself that
lie wished he ever could come to see Macurdy without
having to see that Jim.
Jim stopped at the granary door and tried it, with an
anxious look; then he went to the window and tried to
peer in at the sides of the paper curtain which had been
roughly nailed up.
" It's all right, Jim, "called Macurdy. And Jim turned
and carne towards the boys with an expression of childish
satisfaction replacing the anxiety on his face.
"All right," he repeated, " snug and warm." And
then he said something in a low tone to Macurdy. It
was about sleeping in the granary, or having a burglar-
alarm, or so Tom thought, from the few words that came
to his ears. He didn't mean to listen, but he could hardly
help pricking up his ears a little at that. Macurdy ev-
idently did not care to have any private conversation with
Jim in Tom's presence.
" It's all right, all right, Jim," he repeated, reassuring-
ly. "And the paper is all right too. We're going to
print the first number next week."
Macurdy had had to go and tell Jim all about the pa-
per already, thought Tom, with great disgust.
Macurdy had his arm around the boy, and Jim was
looking at him with wistful eyes.
"I'll write something for the paper," he said, eagerly.
" I can write now — just so you can make it out."
Jim had evidently once been able to read and write,
but the fever had left him so vacant mentally that he
had to begin over again witli the little children. There
were rough boys in 'Scutney who had gibed and sneered
at Jim for this, whom Macurdy had been obliged to thrash.
"Local items and general news are what we want.
And I suppose we shall copy a good deal from other pa-
pers," said Tom, with a view to discouraging Jim.
" I'll write you all about the Queen of Sheba," said Jim,
eagerly. " All I can remember," he added, with a touch
of patient dejection. " I had forgotten all about her un-
til that day that I went to Hebron with you and Mr.
Bigsby, 'Curdy. She wasn't in the circus — do you think
she was, 'Curdy? Where do you suppose I was when I
had her?" There was a pathetic wistfulness in his voice,
and he laid his hand pleadingly on Macurdy's shoulder.
"Never mind, old fellow, you'll remember all about it
when you get strong," said Macurdy, cheerfully; but
rather gruffly, because of a lump in his throat.
"We can't have Bible stories, you know; it isn't going
to be a Sunday-school paper." said Tom, and he said it the
more roughly because he was afraid his voice was a little
husky; he wasn't going to be a softy about that fellow.
"Write it, Jim, "said Macurdy. "Of course we can't
put everything into the paper, but we'll see, we'll see!"
It struck Tom that Macurdy was taking a great deal
upon himself about that paper. He'd better remember
whose money was going to pay for it!
Jim went off, and Tom was preparing to speak his mind
to Macurdy about his encouraging Jim to write for the
paper, when Teddy Norcross and Orin Seaver came run-
ning up to the barn door.
" I say, Tom, who is going to report the ball games for
your paper? There's the Hebrons and the 'Scutneys next
Saturday, and —
"Jolly ! I never thought of that !" exclaimed Tom.
But Macurdy interrupted him. "We shall do those
things ourselves — with such help as our friends want to
give us," he explained.
" As I want a new bat, I thought maybe I could earn it
that way," said Teddy Norcross, in a disappointed tone.
"I'm just the fellow. And tennis games in summer —
"You see, a 'Scutney paper can't afford to hire reporters
in the beginning, anyway," said Macurdy. " But .we're
sure that every — every public-spirited citizen will want
to help us all he can."
"You don't want any assistant editors, or anything,
that would work cheap, do you?" persisted Teddy, who-
had the reputation of being businesslike and thrifty.
"Not yet, anyway; if we should want any — "mur-
mured Macurdy, politely.
"We heard that girls were going to b'long," said Orin
Seaver, with a somewhat contemptuous accent.
"It's the fashion. We want to keep up with the times ^
you read about women in journalism, you know. And
we think they'll come in handy about — about the fashions
and — and crochet-work — a girls' corner, or something like
that," said Macurdy, delicately ignoring the sensitive
points of grammar and spelling.
"You talk as if 'twas a grown-up paper," said Orin
Seaver, a little sulkily.
" We mean it to be a growing-up paper," said Macurdy.
" We expect it to grow up —
"We mean business, and we're going to run it our-
selves,"said Tom, who felt that Macurdy, with his fine
phrases, had kept him in the background all too long.
There was more than one boy in 'Scutney that day who
felt it to be an unkind fate that Tom Pickering owned
that printing-press, and was therefore Macurdy's partner,
instead of himself.
"I tell you what, Macurdy, "said Tom, as they sepa-
rated, planting himself firmly on the ground, and holding
his head very high, " I'll get a lot more t3Tpe. That paper
is going to be a Big Tiling!"
Luella, for her part, did not keep on counting one-two-
three-four after Tom left her. Although she had treated
Tom's project with so little respect, no sooner had he
gone than she whisked up stairs to tell Aunt Esther all
about it (Aunt Esther tried to take their dead mother's
place to Tom and Luella, and talked much to Luella about
the influence she ought to have over Tom). Then Luella
ran, all out of breath, over to Polly Eawson's to see what
Polly would think of the paper. "Aunt Esther says it
will be a great opportunity for us to soften and refine
and elevate those boys," she said, after she had unfolded
the great scheme to the attentive Polly.
"I'm sure they need it." said Polly, plaintively. "I
wish somebody would do that to our Bing. I think we'd
better help them. Luella. And I'll let them print 'The
Enchanted Pumpkin Seed.'"
It was after nine o'clock that night — and nine o'clock
was 'Scutney bedtime — when Tom, on his way to bed,
answered a knock at the back door and found Macurdy.
"I couldn't come before," he said, breathlessly. " I've
had to chop mince- meat and knit a stent; she don't
know I've come now. I want you to let Jim put his
piece into the paper. It will do him such a lot of good
in his mind. And so I wanted you to know that the
Queen of Sheba is only a turkey — a big white turkey."
" I didn't know we were going to print a paper to help
people's minds," said Tom, sulkily. "And I don't like
such a lot of mysteries!" Tom glanced meaningly across
the field towards the old granary, which stood out white
in the moonlight, although it was weather-worn and gray.
"It's awful cold, isn't it?" said Macurdy, his gaze follow-
ing Tom's anxiously. "And if Jim wants to put any-
thing into the paper about Sarah Lond I think we'd better
let him. It will be awful interesting."
"If she's anybody that 'Scutney folks know," said
Tom — for he didn't want to quarrel with Macurdy.
"I tell you we're going to do great things with that
paper, Tom, "said Macurdy, evasively, as he pulled his.
woollen comforter up over his ears and trudged away.
"I s'pose Sarah Lond is somebody that they've got
shut up in the old granary," said Tom to himself, with
what he thought was sarcasm, as he went off to bed.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
252
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
LIFE IN A PARIS SCHOOL.
fllHE American school-boy does not know how well off
_l_ he is until he tries a few terms of school life in some
foreign country. Then he soon realizes that the home
institutions are really not run on the plan of "all work
and no play," as he used to think they were, and that
the rules and regulations he once considered onerous are,
on the other hand, most delightfully simple and unob-
jectionable. The writer attended school in Paris some
years ago, and it was there that he came to these conclu-
sions. He, as a foreigner, was not forced to live the
same kind of life that the French boys accepted as a per-
fectly natural thing, but he had every opportunity to
see just what this life was, and as a consequence he be-
came a more patriotic American.
The large Paris schools are called lyci-es, or lyceums,
but the pupils refer to them as " boxes"; and this is not
at all surprising when you consider that the boys are
kept shut up in the schools just about as if they were in
a box or a prison. They are also required to wear a dis-
tinctive uniform, which is usually of dark blue cloth,
witli gold buttons and gold embroidery, and a peak cap
bearing the monogram of the school in front. They
sleep in dormitories, fifteen or twenty in one room, and
get their exercise and recreation in a gravelled court-yard
in the rear of the school buildings. This yard is usually
not very large, and the only games the scholars play are
marbles, tops, and leap-frog or tag. There is no foot-
ball or baseball or tennis, and even the childish games
they do indulge in are under the supervision of a tutor.
On Thursdays the boys are taken out for a promenade
in charge of a tutor, and they are marched around the
streets two by two for an hour or more. Those boys
whose parents live in Paris, and those who have friends
in the city, are allowed once in two weeks to visit their
friends and relatives on Sunday. Of course almost
every boy can rake up some sort of a " relative," for the
sake of getting out of the "box" occasionally, and
those with imaginary relatives spend their time on the
boulevards eating cakes and seeing the sights. This
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Besides the games already mentioned, the older boys in
the Paris schools may take fencing lessons and riding
lessons. All those who can afford to invariably jump at
ON THURSDAY AFTERNOONS.
they would probably not do if they enjoyed the liberty
accorded to American boys, instead of being confined for
weeks in a walled yard.
LEARNING LATIN VERSES AT RECESS AS A PUNISHMENT.
the chance of taking a riding lesson, for this gives them
an additional opportunity to get out of the " box." But
these French boys on horseback are sorry-looking sights,
and afford constant subjects for caricatures in the Paris
comic papers.
The method of punishment is to make a scholar
write several thousand lines as a task, or to deprive him
of his Thursday walk, or to deprive him of one or more
of his Sundays out. A minor punishment is inflicted by
making the boys stand up against the wall of the play-
ground and learn Latin verses by heart during recess.
The working -hours are somewhat longer than in
America, because certain fixed hours are set aside for pre-
paration and study. For instance, there is a recitation
at eight o'clock in the morning, then a study hour, and
then fifteen minutes' recess, followed by another study
hour. In the afternoon there are usually two recitation
hours and one study hour. All studying is done in the
class-rooms under the supervision of a tutor, and no
talking is allowed. As a result of this enforced silence
the boys become adepts in a sort of deaf-and-dumb sign-
language, and carry on lengthy conversations which they
would never think of wasting time on if they might say
what they had to say out loud. At four o'clock every
afternoon the boys line up in the play-ground, and ser-
vants pass along in front of them with baskets of bread-
and-butter, each boy helping himself to a slice as his
turn comes.
At the schools where there are both boarders and day
scholars, as is the case at a number of the Paris lycees,
the boarders are forbidden to speak to the clay boys, and
usually have a different play-ground. But they do speak
to one another, nevertheless, and the day scholars act as
messengers to the outside world, and smuggle all sorts of
forbidden delicacies and story papers into the school for
the boarders.
We have no such system as this in America. The
American boy is looked upon by his teachers as a young
citizen with self-respect and a gentlemanly sense of
honor. He is not forbidden to do things before he ever
thinks of doing them, and for that very reason he re-
mains a better -behaved boy than the lad of any other
country. So we may all well be thankful that we are
Americans, and that we can go to school in a country
where every boy gets a fair opportunity to make himself
a good man.
FEBRUARY 5, 1895
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
253
TURN C3)
(2)
(1)
(3)
HAND-IN-HAND SKATING.
BY W. G. VAN T. SUTPHEN.
can be no lasting interest in any form of sport
_L unless some definite end is kept in view, some prob-
lem finally woi-ked out, some purpose accomplished.
There is no amusement in shooting arrows aimlessly into
the air or in carelessly knocking tennis-balls over a net.
The archer is intent on seeing how often he can hit the
gold; the tennis-player tries to put that ball over in such
a u ay that his opponent cannot return it. The score,
the game — something is the object.
Now skating is one of the oldest and most popular of
winter amusements, and yet how many of the thousands
of boys and girls who anxiously await the hoisting of
the "red ball" know anything more than the merest be-
ginnings of the art? The vast majority of skaters are per-
fectly satisfied with being able to progress in an aimless,
desultory fashion up and down the ice and keep out of
the way of the hockey-players. And I may add that
hockey, good game that it is, is not skating, in the real
sense of the word, and it can never
help you to anything better than the
ability to keep your feet (and your
temper) in a rough-and-tumble scrim-
' mage after a little block of wood or a
rubber "puck." And yet there is
something better.
Aside from speed -skating, which
few can hope to excel in, there is fig-
ure-skating, as it is popularly called.
It is generally supposed to be very
difficult, and in some respects it is
so. To attempt it without the assist-
ance of a teacher requires unlimited
pluck and perseverance. There are a
number of books on the subject, il-
lustrated with elaborate diagrams,
and everything made easy, in theory.
But the actual thing in practice —
that is very different. It is like
"French at Home, in Six Easy Les-
sons," or, "The Violin Without a
Master." The hard work does pay
in the end, if persevered in, but the
beginner generally gets disgusted after the first few fail-
ures and goes back to tag and hockey. Perhaps that
has been your experience — you have tried, and found it
of no use. And yet you do envy the expert skater, who
glides past you on the "back cross-roll" so easily and
gracefully that you are certain that it must feel like fly-
ing. Well, that is exactly what
it does feel like, and I am going'
to suggest a plan by which you
may secure that delightful sen-
sation for yourself at the expense
of comparatively little time and
trouble. After you have once
known the fascination that there
is in true figure-skating, you will
Jf probably feel encouraged to take
up again the explanations and
diagrams of the discarded text-
books.
Hand - in - hand figures are
among the prettiest things that
can be done upon the ice from
the spectators' point of view, and
they are easiest for the perform-
ers. You have the assistance of
your partner at every critical mo-
°™' ment, and movements such as
Fin. i. the forward-rocking turn, which
CMPLOYEO
FlG- 3-
THE CROSS ey L F
/
require weeks of practice to do
alone, can be executed hand in
hand with comparative ease. In .
individual figure-skating you are jj '
obliged to advance very slowly in
order to preserve correct form ; in
hand-in-hand skating the "form"
is of less importance, or, rather,
it seems to come of itself.
Let us take the Mercury, or 3-
scud, as the English call it. If you
will anal5Tze the movements in
the Forward Mercury (Fig. 3) you
will see that there is first a glide
on the left-foot outside edge back-
ward (L.O.B. ), then a glide for-
ward on the right-foot outside edge
(R.O.F.),and finally a cross-roll
on the left-foot outside edge for-
ward (L.O.F.), which finishes in
a little backward turn on the same
foot, leaving you in position to re-
peat the movement with the right
foot on the outside edge backward
(R.O.B.). Examining in likemannerthe detail of the Back-
ward Mercury (Fig. 4), which is done by your partner at the
same time that you are performing the "Forward," you
will notice that it is exactly the same, except that there
are two backward glides and one forward, while in the
" Forward " there are tico forward glides and one back-
ward.
It is necessary, then, that both you and your partner
should be able to skate the outside edge forward and
back and make the little curl-like turn, and also that one
of you should be reasonably proficient on the cross-roll
backward. It sounds very difficult, but remember that I
am not asking you to attempt all this alone; the secret
lies in the fact that you will help each other.
The outside edge forward is the first movement to be
attempted. Try it with hands joined and crossed, and
endeavor to make the stroke together — that is, in the same
time. Lean boldly outward, and make the curve as long
as possible. Try it again, but this time hand in hand,
that is, with one hand free. It will be well to change
sides occasionally.
Now for the same edge in a backward direction. To
put the first question in the catechism to a very practical
use, and to simplify the explanation, I will assume that
you are M and that your partner is N. Join hands (not
crossed), and let M try the outside backward on alternate
feet, while N keeps both feet on the ice and simply
squirms along in a serpentine line, and helps M to pre-
serve his balance. M can then perform
the same kindly office for N.
The only difference between the out-
side forward and the corresponding cross
or Dutch roll (Fig. 1) is that the unem-
ployed foot, instead of being put down
alongside of the employed, is swung en-
tirely over and set down in front of the
foot on which you have been gliding,
and which is then immediately taken
up. Join hands (not crossed), and let
N skate backward, keeping both feet firm-
ly on the ice. M will then follow on the
outside forward, remembering to cross BOLL —
the unemployed foot just at the end of
the glide. After the unemployed foot is
swung" over and put down, lift the other
quickly, and let it swing gently out over
the ice, and then bring it in ready for
the next cross. You will soon find that
you will not have to push off as you Fiu. 4.
(2)
' '
254
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
did on the ordinary outside edge; the swing of the un-
employed leg is quite sufficient to bring you around.
Now for N's part, the backward cross roll (Fig. 2),
•which is not quite so easy. As before, M will keep both
feet on the ice, so as to give his partner a firm support.
Join hands (not crossed), and let N take several backward
steps as though he were walking, but crossing his feet al-
ternately, the one behind the other, and turning the skate
so that the outer edge is the one placed on the ice. After
seven or eight steps press the blade firmly into the ice as
you set it down so that you can feel it " bite." . Now give
the unemployed leg a swing as you take it up; let it
•come all the way around, so that you can put it down (oil
the outside edge) well crossed behind the employed foot.
Lean out as you do this, and let the skate that is on the
ice move freely. Your partner can help you immensely
if he will lift up on your hands, and at the same time
gently force you over in the proper direction. It will
seem impossible at first, but the knack will come all in a
flash, and you will realize that it is the twist of your
shoulders and the swing of the unemployed leg that is
doing the work. It is very necessary to get these for-
ward and back cross roljs as perfect as possible before at-
tempting the Mercury proper. Unless you can do them,
the pace quickly gets too fast and dangerous, and the fig-
ure is spoiled.
There is only one thing more before we begin to put
our material together, and that is the little turn on the
same foot which is technically called a 3. This particu-
lar turn is very easy, and is the natural one that every-
body uses. Make the end or tail short, and practise on
each foot forward and back.
As soon as M can be sure of his forward cross-roll, and
N of the corresponding backward movement, we can try
the whole figure. We will suppose that M has learned
the "Forward," and N the "Backward." If anything,
the " Backward" is the lady's step, as her partner should
do the steering. Join hands (not crossed) and stand fa-
cing each other. Endeavor to take the strokes together
in exactly the same time. You will find it of advantage
to count one, two, three, as in learning the waltz. For
instance, in the " Backward," begin on the right outside
forward, and turn a 3 (count one), drop on the left out-
side back (two), cross the right foot behind, and continue
on the right cross-roll backward (three). If now you
are looking- over your left shoulder, as you should on a
right outside back, you will be ready for the left outside
forward, ending with a 3 (one), the drop on to the right
outside back (two), and the cross-roll backward on the
left foot (three). The counting is the same for M, who
does the "Forward," but he should be particular to see
that his cross-roll forward (in which he makes the 3) is
done in exactly the same time that N is doing the cross-
roll back. The steering can be brought to as high a de-
gree of perfection as in a ballroom. A variation of this
figure, called the "Flying Mercury," is sometimes skated,
the difference being that the skaters do not make the
little turn or 3, but jump from one edge to another. It
is very much more difficult, and should not be attempted
without long practice on the regular figure. After you
have become proficient in skating the Mercury with a
•partner, you can do the two movements by yourself. The
"Forward" is particularly effective when done alone.
There are many other hand-in-hand figures, such as
"Double Mohawks," "Q Scuds,"and "Rocking Turns,"
which look well done hand in hand. If you once learn
the Mercury, and get a little insight into the fascinating
mystery of figure-skating, you will be anxious to look
them up in the books, or seek the assistance of some
friendly expert.
If you have a file or the bound volume of the YOUNG
PEOPLE for 1892, look up the article on figure-skating
under date of March 8th. It contains some valuable hints
on skate-fastenings and foot-gear. Above all, don't use
straps, or you will never be able to skate with confidence
and freedom. It is not strength but suppleness of ankle
that is required, and any ankle that is strong enough to
walk on without turning is strong enough to skate with.
Straps cramp the muscles and stop the circulation. Use
heel-plates and a key-fastening at the sole, unless you
can set aside a pair of shoes for skating only, when the
foot-stock should be permanently attached to the boot by
ordinary screws.
A TROUBLESOME CHILD.
MY Maud Louise is a Paris doll
With the cunuiugest turued-up nose,
And four white teeth, and a parasol,
Aud lace all over her clothes.
Ami, goodness, isn't she just the worst!
She's never a moment still.
She sucked my red balloon till it burst —
Of course she was deathly ill.
She's always running away to hide
On purpose to make me search:
She jumps on wagons to steal a ride,
And giggles aloud iu church !
She broke the blade of iny pocket-knife ;
I haven't a dish uncracked.
Why, every day of her naughty life
She has to be simply whacked!
I'm just discouraged. Won't some of you
Whose dollies are good and mild
Please write me, telling me what to do
To manage this dreadful child ?
JULIET WILUOK TOMPKINS.
HOME-MADE VALENTINES.
ST. VALENTINE is a saint whom we all love to honor. For
many years we did homage to him with lace paper, senti-
mental verses, and foolish pictures. Then for a time he retired
in disgust; but of later years he has come to claim the attention
of both old and young, and in his name all sorts of pretty and
attractive trifles are sent from friend to friend.
Boubounieres and flowers tied with true-love knots are per-
haps the most favored messengers of the older folk, but the
charming bits of sentiment which you make yourselves are the
best possible valentines for you.
A valentine is a message of love or of true friendship. St.
Valentine's day has become an occasion for the sending of little
gifts, for remembering one's friends with dainty cards or with a
bunch of flowers; but fortunately it has not yet become a rival
of Christinas, and does not entail giving to each and every one,
only to the chosen few whom you wish to greet in loving
fashion.
The bonbon - box, shown iu the first illustration, makes a
really delightful valentine, and carries, besides the sentiment ex-
pressed by the hearts and the arrows, the sweets so dear to
every girl. It is really very simple to make. The bag is of
silk, true-blue, or anything you may prefer, and must be made
and finished before the hearts are touched.
First cut a disk of card-board four inches in diameter, and
cover it neatly on both sides with the silk. Then cut a strip
thirteen inches wide by thirty long, seam it, turn in the upper
edge for a distance of three inches, and stitch in casings halt' an
inch wide for tbe strings. Gather the lower edge of the strip,
after turning it under for about half an inch, and overhand it
lirmly to the covered disk of board. When that is done begin to
make the hearts.
Of these there should be four cut from celluloid, each measur-
ing five inches at its widest point. When they are all in readi-
ness punch a hole in each at the point of meeting, and tie them
all together with narrow ribbon as the drawing indicates. Pur-
chase four gilt or silver arrows, and stick them through the
hearts and the bag iu such a way as to make all firm. Run
some ribbons through the casings, and till your bag with con-
fections.
FEBRUAEY 5, 1895.
HAKPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
255
The piu-cushiou is a little more complicated than either the
frame or the bag, and, when completed, makes a little more of a
gift. It is not difficult, however, and requires only attention as
to details.
You must first buy four gilt arrows of medium size, such as are
used for trimming hats, and must then cut the pattern of a heart,
which shall be proportionate to them in size. When that is
BONBON-BOX AND PIN-CCSHION.
<lone cut two pieces of card-board after the pattern, and two
pieces of fine white linen big enough to cover them. On each
piece of liueu embroider forget-me-nots. Press the work, and
-carefully cover the foundation boards. Then overhand neatly
to each one edge of a baud of ribbon, one, two, or three inches
wide, according to the size of the heart. Leave a small opening
at one side, and through it fill all the space between the two
hearts with lamb's wool, until a perfect cushion is formed. Close
the opening. Cross the arrows so as to form supports or feet,
and stitch them firmly into place.
Tie a ribbon bow at each side of the heart, and into the
cushion stick small pins showing heads in heart shape, in four-
leaf clover, and in the lover's knot. You may be sure that the
friend to whom you send the greeting will be charmed, and that
_your valentine will be a perfect success.
THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF TOMMY
TODDLES.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTEU VIII.
IT was a steep climb to the top of the hill, and when they
reached the summit Tommy was quite out of breath and very
warm. He looked about for some place to rest, but there was
uot any. The top of the hill was bare except for a few stubby
-alder-bushes and half a dozen white birches, which trembled in
the breeze that was blowing in from the sea.
" This is the place," said the Sheep, presently.
"I don't see any other place around here," retorted the ex-
Pirate, " so I suppose this must be the place."
"What place?" asked Tommy.
" Don't you see ?" queried the ex-Pirate.
"Don't I see what?"
"Everything. This is the place where you see everything."
And the ex-Piiate waved his hands out toward the horizon.
In fact, it seemed as if what he had said were true. Tommy
thought he really could have Seen everything if his eyes had
•only been strong enough. The view appeared to have no
bounds. The hill was not so very high, yet it seemed to the
little boy as if he were up in a balloon, and was looking down
upon the whole world. Not far distant was the sea, with the
waves breaking on the broad sandy beach, and the deep blue
water stretching off immeasurably toward the sky. In the
other direction were hills and valleys and green fields; and far
away were peaceful towns and villages with chui'ch spires stick-
ing up out of a tangle of roofs and chimneys. Tommy felt very
much impressed, and wondered again how it was that he and
his Uncle Dick had never discovered this beautiful spot. " How
nice it would be to have a house up here," mused the little boy,
and then he suddenly bethought himself of his own house that
he had run away from so unexpectedly. He looked over in the
direction where he thought the big bouse ought to be, but he
could not locate it anywhere in the landscape, and he did not
quite like to ask the Sheep or the ex-Pirate to show it to him.
" It must be an awful long way off," he concluded, mentally, " if
I can't see it from here." And then he sighed and wondered
how he was ever going to get back.
" Well, I don't see them," exclaimed the Sheep, who had been
standing on top of a bowlder, and peering intently in the direc-
tion of the ocean.
"You don't see who?" asked Tommy, coming out of his
reverie.
"The animals."
"Perhaps they are behind that knoll yonder," suggested the
ex-Pirate. " The Penguin lives there, and they may be calling
at his house."
"They maybe," said the Sheep. "We'll go there." And he
jumped to the ground.
"But can't we rest a little while first?" pleaded Tommy.
" Certainly ; let's rest," said the ex-Pirate ; " and we'll have
some luncheon too. Kindly ring the bluebells."
Tommy had taken a seat on the grass near one of the birches,
but he had not noticed that there was a beautiful spray of blue-
bells growing almost at his elbow. When the ex-Pirate called
his attention to them he leaned over and touched the flowers,
and as he did so they tinkled merrily and loudly, just like his
mother's tea-bell at home.
" That's right," said the Sheep, quite heedless of Tommy's sur-
prised look. " That will bring the Dumb Waiter. Indeed,
there he comes now."
All three looked down toward the foot of the hill, in the di-
rection pointed out by the Sheep, and they saw some one coming
rapidly up toward them. As he approached, Tommy perceived
that the new-comer was an undersized man with a bald head
and side whiskers. He wore a short black coat and a long
white apron that hnug down to his toes, just like the waiters
Tommy had seen in the city restaurants.
"That's the Dumb-Waiter," said the ex-Pirate to the little
boy. "What do you want to eat ?"
" I don't know ; what can I have?"
••Anything."
" I think I'd like something sweet."
"You can have a sweet-potato," said the ex-Pirate ; and then,
turning to the Sheep, "What will yon have?"
" Can yon spare a grass ?" asked the Sheep.
"Do you like asparagus?" broke in Tommy; but before the
Shri-p could answer, the ex-Pirate turned on the little boy
sharply and said : " Keep quiet until your next tnru comes. You
have ordered once !"
And so Tommy leaned up against the birch and said nothing
more, but just gazed at the Dumb-Waiter, \vho stood near by in
silencr, bowing his head respectfully at each order given to him
by the ex-Pirate.
"Well, what will you have?"
"I guess I'll take some Hayberry Long -cake," replied the
Sheep.
"Very \vell. Hayberry Long- cake for him," said the ex-
Pirate, " and you may bring me some soft-boiled egg-plants and
some watermelon on toast."
Then the Dumb-Waiter bowed again, and began making his
preparations for serving the luncheon. All his dishes and knives
and forks seemed to be down at the foot of the hill, and he kept
running up and dmvu for some time to collect these. He never
seemed to bring up more than one or two things at a time, and
seldom the thing that was wanted. The ex-Pirate kept finding
fault with him and scolding bim, and at last he turned to Tom-
my and said :
" That's always the way with these Durub-Waiters. They
never bring up what you want."
And at each word of reproof the Dumb-Waiter would exclaim,
"Oh my, but I do get so'tired of running up and down!" and
then he would disappear down the hill again and bring up what
was wanted.
"I thought you said he was a dumb waiter?" remarked Tom-
my, after he had heard the servant speak several times.
" He is a Dumb-Waiter," replied the Sheep.
" But I thought a dumb waiter meant one who could not talk,"
continued the little boy.
"Oh no," laughed the Sheep. "We call him a Dumb- Waiter
because he runs up and down. AH Dumb-Waiters run up and
down, you know," and as Tommy had never seen any dumb-
waiters that did not run up and down (except when they were
out of order), he was forced to be contented with this peculiar
and rather unsatisfactory explanation.
When the Dumb-Waiter had brought up all that was neces-
sary for the meal, the ex-Pirate got down on his hands ijAjl
knees and wanted the servant to set the table on his hack.
256
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
THE DUMB-WAITER BROUGHT THE CAKE UP THE HILL ON
HOLLER-SKATES.
"What for?" asked the Sheep.
"Why, I want this luncheon to be on me, you know," explain-
ed the ex-Pirate, genially ; lint the Sheep would not agree to
this, and wanted it to be on him. A wrangle ensued, in which
Tommy wisely decided to take no part, and the two disputants
finally compromised on allowing the ex-Pirate to sit down and
hold the dishes on his lap instead of having them served on his
back.
" I am glad you like sweet things," he remarked to Tommy, as
the little boy began to eat his sweet-potato.
"I can't say that I care much for sweet-potatoes, though,"
ventured Tommy, who was forcing himself to eat so as not to be
impolite to his host.
"Oh, no matter," answered the ex-Pirate, pleasantly; "try
something else." (But Tommy noticed that there was nothing
else to try.) "All sweet things arc sweet, you know," lie con-
tinued; " even things that apparently have no taste. Now love-
letters, for instance, are sweet."
" Yes, indeed," put iu the Sheep. "The Monkey's love-letter
must have been sweet. But then he wrote it iu jam."
" Did you ever hear about that?" asked the ex-Pirate, turning
to Tommy, and upsetting several dishes into the grass as lie did
so. "It is classic — one of my classics." And then, without
waiting for the little boy to answer, he began to recite/ :
"Said the Monkey to the Tapir,
* im- Sunday afternoon,
' Wcin't \ou let me have some paper,
With some jelly and a spoon?
' For I want to write a letter
To a pretty Perroqueet,
And 1 really think I'd better
Make the message rather s\yeet.' "
"It was raspberry jelly," commented the Sheep.
"What!" fxi laimed Tommy. "Did the Monkey use a spoon
for a pen and raspberry jelly for ink?"
"That's what he did," said the ex-Pirate. "It was a red-
letter day for the Perroqueet, I tell you!"
Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the
Hay berry Long-cake. This was a new dish to Tommy. It was a
sort of cake, apparently stuffed with hay or straw, and was fully
three yards long. The Dumb-Waiter brought the cake up the
hill on roller-skates. One skate was fastened to each end of the
cake, so that it looked like an eight-wheeled toy wagon. The
Sheep ate several yards of the odd delicacy, and the ex-Pirate
likewise took a number of slices, and when they had eaten as
much as they could, they called the Dumb-Waiter and made him
eat some of it, because, as they explained afterwards to Tommy,
they always feed the waiter. Then they all three arose and
started down the hill toward the sea-shore.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
IT ALL DEPENDED.
"BOBBIE," said the teacher, "spell eye."
" Which one do you mean?" said Bobbie,
with or the I you say one with?"
"The eye you see
A BUSINESS PROPOSITION.
" MAMMA," said Willie, "do you pay Jennie fifteen dollars a
month for looking after me?"
"No, sixteen," said Mamma. "She is a good nurse and de-
serves it."
" Well, I say, ma, I'll look after myself for ten. You'll save
six by it."
DIDN'T LIKE TO BE CALLED NAMES.
"How do you like that little French girl next door, Polly ?"
" Don't like her at all," said Polly. " She calls me names.
She called me a ma'amselle yesterday, and I ain't."
THOUGHT IT WAS SMOKE.
•' WHY, mamma," said Willie, as he went out into the cold and
could see his own breath, " give me a glass of water quick. I
must be on fire inside."
BOBBIE'S OFFER.
THERE'S a lot of fine things I'd like to be,
But don't you make any mistake.
The best, of the lot, as it seems to me,
Is to be
A great big scrap-basket for scraps of cake,
Or a box for spice —
They're both of 'em nice.
If you want me for either, I'll come for half price.
THE REASON WHY.
JACK had been to the barber shop with his father. On the
way back he asked, " Was that charlotte-russe he put on your
face ?"
"No, my son," was the reply. "That was lather."
"Oh!" said Jack. "I wondered why you let him whittle it
oft' without tasting it."
HIS ADVENTURE.
WILBUR. " I got lost out iu the woods to-day."
UNCI.E BEN. "And what did you do?"
WILBUR. " I just got scared, and wandered 'round till I found
mvself."
A DISCOVERY.
"MA," said Robbie, " I know why canary-birds is all yeller."
"Why, dear?"
"Because they're always yelling."
AN ORNITHOLOGICAL QUERY.
ALICE. "The owl can only see iu the dark, can't he, aunty?"
AUNTY. "Yes, Alice."
ALICE. " Then what do you suppose he sees when he shuts his
eyes ?"
HARPER'S
H
TCUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1895, by lliRi-hu 4 BR..TOIRS. All Rijl.la R
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 798.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLAI1S A TEAR.
A NOCTURNAL REPULSE.
A STORY OF ST. VALENTINE'S DAY.
BY L. A. TEREBEL
IT was only natural that the boys of the Hamford
School should be in all things the rivals of the boys
of the Tarlton School, inasmuch as the two towns were
only five miles apart, and every year there were baseball
games and football matches and tennis tournaments held
to determine which school should boast the champion-
ship. In some ways the Hamford School had the advan-
tage, for there were thirty-three boys there, whereas at
Tarlton the roll showed but twenty-six, including little
Willie Ricketts, who was only ten years old, and enjoyed
the distinction of being the smallest boy of either institu-
tion. Nevertheless, as Willie used to say himself, he was
"right, in the game" with the older boys, and he insisted
upon being called Ricketts l>y them, instead of Willie,
which he considered "too young."
It had been the custom, ever since the Tarlton Academy
had existed, for the boys t<> have some sort of midwinter
celebration between the Christmas and Easter holidays,
and latterly this celebration had come to be held on St.
Valentine's day. since that came about mid-term, and fur-
258
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
nished, as the French professor used to put it, a good
raison d'etre. It was the custom, top, to invite the Ham-
ford boys to the party, but this year the latter received no
invitations, because at the football game the previous No-
vember they had impressed the town butcher boy into
their rush-line, and had put up such an un gentlemanly
game besides (in order to win the championship, which
they had not held for three years), that the Tarlton boys
decided to have no more to do with them until they
showed themselves in every way more worthy of their at-
tention. Of course, the Hamford scholars said they did
not care to go to Tarlton — five miles across the snow — to
a Valentine party or to any other kind of a. party, and
that, anyhow, they would not have gone this year if they
had been asked. Nevertheless, they chafed under the
gentle snub, and some of the more unforgiving ones
among them proposed to retaliate.
"I'll tell you how it was," said little Willie Ricketts,
after he had gathered all the Tarlton boys lie could find,
and they had locked the door of the school-room. They
were talking in whispers, and there was no light except
what slipped out through the cracks in the stove.
"I'll tell you how it was. You know my aunt prom-
ised to contribute the cream -cakes for the Valentine
party —
"Yep!" ejaculated the fat boy so loudl}', that Tim
Denny had to poke him in the ribs to make him keep
quiet.
" Well, "continued Willie, "old Blotter, down on Bank
Street, says he's got so much to do for that Valentine
party he can't make the cream-cakes."
"Oh, pshaw!" murmured the fat boy, and Tim poked
again.
"So Blotter told my aunt he thought Bin nicks, at
Hamford, could make 'em, and send 'em over in" the af-
ternoon." (A sort of gurgling noise from the fat boy.)
"So to-day she took me to drive the horse, and we went
over to Hamford in a cutter, and she talked with Bhi-
nicks, and Binnicks said he'd make the calces for us.
And then my aunt says for me to stay at- Binnicks's and
keep warm while she calls on old Mrs. Talbot; and they
put me in one of those little stalls of Binnicks's, where
they serve ice-cream and stuff, you know, and they gave
me a cup of chocolate and a huge piece of cake."
" Gosh !" interrupted the fat boy again. " What kind,
Ricketts?"
But Willie disdained to reply. "Well, now, here's how
it happened. I hadn't been in there two minutes when
three o' those Hamford fellows came in and sat down in
the next coop to mine, and ordered a whole apple-pie and
some hot lemonade. And one of 'em says, ' This ain't
anything to what our Valentine party '11 be.' And an-
other says, 'Wonder if Tarlton pie is as good as this?'
And another says, 'I know from experience that Tarl-
ton ice-cream is mighty good.' Of course I could not help
hearing all they said — the partition was so thiii — and
what do you think? The Hamford crowd's goiu' to sneak
over here the night of our party in a sleigh, and try to
steal the freezers off the back steps, and rush the kitchen,
and get all the cake and stuff, and carry it off and eat it
themselves!"
Now there was nothing Willie Ricketts could have
said that would have caused greater consternation among
the Tarlton School boys than the announcement of the
proposed invasion from Hamford. The fat boy nearly
fainted, and wanted to notify Mr. Day, the principal of
the rival academy, at once. But the older boys patted
Willie on the back and called him "Ricketts, old man,"
and made him tell the story all over again in detail, and
then they held a council of war. They decided that it
would be improbable that more than ten or a dozen of the
Hamford boys would come over to do the stealing, and
they concluded that the twenty -six boys of the Tarltou
Academy were sufficient to meet and punish them. So
they decided to say nothing to Mr. Burns, the Head Mas-
ter, or to any one else, and after half an hour's discussion
they hit upon a plan of action that suited everybody, in-
cluding little Willie Ricketts, who thought it was
great.
During the following- four days which preceded St.
Valentine's, the boys of the Tarlton School spent all their
leisure hours in throwing snowballs. At recess they
plugged away at the trees and the fences, and even in the
evening they went out in the yard and threw snowballs
in the dark. Mr. Burns thought his scholars had all been
seized with a mania for snowballing, but as long as they
pelted the trees, and not one another, he did not interfere.
On the afternoon of St. Valentine's day they ceased throw-
ing, and spent most of the time in the moulding of snow-
balls, which they carefully laid in rows along the back of
the house near the kitchen, and down near the gate.
They must have made several hundred, all nice round
ones.
The Valentine party began at half past seven o'clock.
All the young people of Tarlton were present, and there
were games of every description. Everybody seemed to
be having a delightful time, and nobody appeared to no-
tice that three or four of the boys were always ab-
sent.
At the council of war, Tim Denny had been elected
general-in-chief for the defence of the ice-cream, and he
had made very elaborate plans to thwart the dark schemes
of the Hamford invaders. He arranged to have four out-
posts where boys should watch until the enemy appeared,
and then give the alarm, which was to be sounded on a
tin fish-horn. Each picket was provided with such a
horn. One stood at an upper window, another perched in
a tree near the rear gate, a third in another tree near the
front gate, and a fourth loitered in the main hallway of
the school-house, so as to blow his horn in-doors as soon
as he heard the alarm from the watchers outside. Tim
changed his pickets every fifteen or twenty minutes, so
that none of the guests would notice the absence of any
of the boys. Shortly after eight o'clock Willie Ricketts's
turn to watch came, and he ran out to the tree in the
back yard and relieved the fat boy.
'"Sh!" said the latter. "I just saw two fellows walk
up the street and look at the house, and walk around to
the front. I couldn't recognize 'em, but I guess they're
Hamforders!"
The fat boy's teeth were chattering with cold and ex-
citement as he slid clown to the ground and gave the tin-
horn to Willie, who clambered quickly up into the tree.
Then, when silence had been completely restored after
the change of pickets, and nothing could be heard but
the shouts and laughter of the merrymakers in the school-
house, Willie peered down the snow-covered street, and
presently saw a sleigh with several people in it coming
slowly toward him. There was nothing remarkable
about the sleigh, except that the horses wore no sleigh-
bells, which was a very unusual thing for self-respecting
horses lo do in Tarlton. So Willie kept very quiet and
made himself as small as possible, and waited with his
heart jumping and thumping as though it would leap out
of his throat.
The sleigh came slowly up until it was abreast of the
school-house and then stopped. It was drawn by two
horses, and carried, as near as the little boy could discern,
eight persons. One of them got out quietly, and hastened
across the snow to the rear of the school house, where the
freezers stood. Willie had orders not to give the alarm
until all the marauders were in the yard, so he prepared
to blow his horn as soon as the others should respond to
the low whistle that the first boy had just sounded. But
poor little Willie Ricketts had become so numb and ex-
cited up there ill the branches, that his fingers did not get
FEBKUAEY 12, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
259
a g-ood hold 011 the horn, and it went banging- down the
side of the tree to the ground with an alarming- noise.
At this Willie was almost ready to cry with disappoint-
ment, but fortunately the necessity for this was quickly
removed by Tim Denny himself, who had been taking his
turn at the garret window, who had seen everything, and
had been hoping that Willie would not blow too soon.
So Tim put the whole force of his lungs into his fish-horn,
the boy in the hall blew like a madman, and little Willie
almost shrieked himself hoarse.
Every boy of the Tarlton School, as if actuated by one
impulse, rushed for the doors as soon as they heard the
alarm. They poured out into the yard, where they saw
half a dozen strange boys struggling across the snow with
the heavy ice-cream freezers toward the sleigh near the
back gate. The Tarlton scholars grabbed their conven-
ient snowballs, and let fly such a shower of frozen missiles
at the ice-cream thieves as had never been seen before.
Almost every ball seemed to hit the mark, too. The ma-
rauders dropped the pails (which were really only dum-
mies filled with bricks), and ran for their sleigh, after
making a slight pretense at retaliation.
" Aim at the horses!" shouted little Willie Ricketts, in
his shrill voice, and a shower of snowballs started the
Hamford steeds at a breakneck speed down the road, while
a second volley fell on the heads and backs of the boys in
the sleigh. One boy was thrown out by the sudden leap
of the frightened horses, and was unmercifully pelted as
he got up and ran after his fast -disappearing compan-
ions.
The Tarllon boys were satisfied with their victory, and
did not pursue their enemies. They returned to the
school-house, where all the guests had gathered in their
wraps at the doors and windows to see what all the shout-
ing and throwing was about. The scholars came into the
brilliantly lighted school-room, where they found Mr.
Burns sitting in his chair, wearing a somewhat severe ex-
pression of countenance. But they felt conscious of hav-
ing done right, and before the Head Master could ask for
an explanation, little Willie Rieketts was lifted up on to
the platform, where he said he would explain the whole
thing to everybody if they would only sit down and be
quiet.
When he had finished the story he was loudly cheered,
and the ice-cream and cake were immediately brought iu
by the servants.
The next day Mr. Burns went over to Hamford and
called on Mr. Day. The result was that all the Hamford
boys were summoned into the school-room, and eight of
them, who had black eyes and bruised heads and faces,
were disgracefully dismissed.
D'
THE FOUR WINDS.
BY MABGAKET E. SANGSTER.
THE wind o' the West
I love it best.
The wind o' the East
I love it least.
The wind o' the South
Has sweet in its month.
The wind o' the North
Sends great storms forth.
Taken together nil sorts of weather,
The four old fellows are sure to briug —
Hurry and Hurry, rush aud scurry,
Sighing and dying, and flitting and flying,
Through summer and autumn a,ud winter aud spring.
A MUSICAL GENIUS.
(UEING the reign of Louis XI. of France there was attached
to his court one Abbot de Baigne, a man of considerable
wit. The Abbot was somewhat musically inclined, and delighted
the court with inventions of odd musical instruments. One
day the King, after having enjoyed a hearty laugh over one of
these curious contrivances, aud desiring to baffle this musical
genius, commanded him to produce harmonious sounds from
the cries of hogs. This seemed an impossibility to the King,
and he prepared himself to enjoy the discomfiture of the Al.l.oT.
Much to his surprise, however, the Abbot readily agreed to pro-
duce them. All he required was a sum of money, upon the re-
ceipt of which he declared he would invent the most surprising
thing that was ever heard.
!!<• scoured the country aud secured a large quantity of hogs,
trying their voices as to pitch aud quality, and finally, having
fully satisfied himself, he arranged the animals in a sort of pa-
vilion richly decorated. The day of the trial arrived, and the
King and his court entered the pavilion prepared for some-
thing, but greatly iu doubt as to the success of the Abbot with
the hogs. However, there were the hogs, sure enough, and
much to the surprise and delight of the King they commenced
to cry harmoniously and in good tune, rendering an air that
was fairly recognized.
The Abbot had arranged a series of stops that were connected
with the hogs, and upon pulling one of them out caused a spike
to prick the hog it connected with, making him squeal his note.
The rest was easy, for pulling out the different stops he pro-
duced the tune. The King and all his attendants were highly
delighted with it.
A "DOROTHY Q" PARTY.
BY EMMA J. GRAY.
IT had snowed hard all day, but the preparations for
the party had gone on just the same. "Because
children take to snow as ducks do to water," grandpapa
had said; and then added, with a grave shake of his head,
" Instead of any of them staying away, it will seem as if
twice as many children are here. Don't I know; snow
makes them perfectly wild with jollity."
And now that it was five o'clock, and the electric lights
appeared one by one, the snow had ceased. Patches of
crimson could be seen through the deepening twilight;
indeed, the western sky was rosy.
'Are you happy, Marion? or perhaps you are not
Marion to-night, but Dorothy."
" Dorothy, grandpapa, "and then, to the surprise of the
old gentleman, she twined her arm around his waist and
tempted him to waltz with her, while she sang, "I'm so
happy, happy as can be." Marion was a charming girl,
an only child, and her grandpapa's pet. The party of
to-night was his gift to her. So after the little waltz she
stopped short, as if a sudden thought had come, and again
she answered, this time with a voice which came from
her heart, "Oh, yes, very happy!" But no sooner were
the words spoken than she excitedly skipped away, say-
ing, "Why, it's after five o'clock; the invitations are
from seven, and I must get dressed, or my friends will be
here before I am ready."
It was half after six when grandpapa, in full evening
toilet, walked into the parlor. The house was of the Co-
lonial type, and so had the breadth of floor and front
that gives elbow-room. It was a grand old house, even
if it was hemmed in by tall, narrow, modern buildings.
Many passers-by looked at it, and everybody' ached to get
inside of it and know its hospitable welcome. So when
invitations were out for a Dorothy Q party, to be given
at the home of Miss Marion Fiske, on the evening of
Washington's birthday, you may be sure there was a
stir and flutter among the happy fortunates. Every
night was counted from the time the postman left the
dainty invitation, till at last the grand festival had really
and truly come.
Grandpapa had not long to wait before there came a
260
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
lig-lit foot down the stair, and then, behold what a trans-
formation ! Was this indeed his little Marion, the child
with whom he had been dancing not two hours before?
How she did laugh when she saw her grandpapa's di-
lemma! And how pleased she was when, arranging his
spectacles so as not to lose one atom of detail, he interest-
edly turned her around and around, and finally, with a
satisfactory ahem, said: "Why, child, you are a real
Dorothy Q, parrot and all. Let me see, how do the words
go:
"'Grandmother's mother; her age, I guess,
Thirteen summers, or something less;
(iirlisli bust, but womanly air;
Smooth square foreheail, with rolled-up hair.
Lips that lover lias never kissed,
Taper lingers and slender wrist.
Hanging sleeves of stiff brocade —
So they painted the little maid.
On her hand a parrot green
Sits unmoving and broods serene.'
But where did you get Hie parrot?" he questioned, as he
almost dazedly stroked the bird's head.
"Don't you remember our pretty Poll? She died
when I was seven years old, and because I was so discon-
solate and cried so much, you had her stuffed for me."
" That's a fact. I remember all about her now. I was
afraid you'd die too, you cried so perpetually. But where
has Poll been all this time?"
"On her hand a parrot green
Sits unmoving and broods serene."
"Oh, packed away in an up-stairs closet. She comes out
on occasions, and this is one of them. But there goes the
gong."
"Why, it isn't seven o'clock, child," said grandpapa,
as he leisurely pulled out his watch, while adding, "I
should think none of your guests would arrive ahead of
time. "
"I reckon it's George."
"George who?" And grandpapa gave the sweet up-
turned face a keen, critical look.
"Why, George Washington, of course. I asked him
to come early so as to get ahead of the others, for we are
all going to celebrate his birthday. Haven't you heard,
grandpapa?"
"Not a word. I supposed you meant to keep it a
secret. "
"Then listen, for I must talk quickly, or that boy up-
stairs will be down before I am through." And in her
eagerness Marion put both of her little hands on one of
her grandfather's big ones. "It is this way: the boy
that has just come you will see dressed in exact copy of
George Washington. Many of the other boys will repre-
sent prominent Revolutionary heroes, as John Hancock,
General Greene, General Gates, General Charles Lee,
General Lafayette, and so on, but those who I thought
could not or would not care to take a notable character
will wear the uniform of a private soldier, which in this
case will be evening dress. And the girls, grandpapa "-
and Marion had become so excited that the parrot no
longer " sat unmoving and serene," but, indeed, had tum-
bled for one second to the flooi — " the girls are to repre-
sent our States, and, thanks to this big house, we enter-
tain to-night all of the United States."
Grandpapa being an out-and-out patriot, a son of the
Revolution, could no longer sit still, but paced up and
down, rubbing' his hands together as lie walked, and
nervously drawing out his watch and as nervously re-
placing it, so impatient was he for the girls to arrive.
"How did you let them know, child?"
"That was simple enough. Mamma put in the envel-
ope with the invitation a small card advising who or
what each one was to represent. For example, ' Kindly
take the character of General Armstrong,' 'Kindly per-
sonate the State of Virginia.' I took it for granted all
would know what to do, and if they did not they would
ask me. There are any number of ens-ravings which
would show the boys how to dress. I suppose there will
be lots of them here with wigs or powdered hair, so you
need not be so proud of your white locks," and she plav-
fully reached up and lightly brushed the old man's hair.
" And as for the girls, we'll see, and you'll not have long
to wait now, grandpapa, for just hear the gong go bang,
bang every second. Why, they are arriving in perfect
troops! Where's my parrot. Now I'm ready." But
Marion's bubbling words suddenly ceased, and she stood
a veritable Mistress Dorothy Q as she received General
George Washington and the State of Virginia.
It was as Marion stated. The boys and girls had come
in troops, and within a short half-hour the big parlors
were pleasantly filled. And as grandpapa's old eyes
wandered over til* merry faces, he smiled with a joy
which was pi-oud.
The costumes worn by the various States proved that
the girls were equal to the occasion.
Virginia wore a gold-spangled white crepe lisse over
white silk, gold -colored silk stockings, white satin slip-
pers with gold buckles. From her arm was suspended a
pretty tobacco pouch, and confining her long wavy
golden hair was a wreath of wheat, thus showing that
Virginia was rich in flour and tobacco, and could lay a
claim to gold also.
Little Delaware, who was a dark-eyed brunette, wore a
frock of pink Italian crepe, with kid slippers and gloves
FEBRUARY 12, 1895
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
261
to match, arid carried a small ornamental basket filled
with delicious-looking peaches.
California came in a brilliant, showy toilette of gold
tulle, shimmering with spangles, over gold-colored silk;
stockings, slippers, gloves were all of the same rich color.
Around h&r neck was a heavy gold chain, around each
arm and wrist were heavy gold bracelets,
around her waist was a golden girdle, while
her hair was kept in place with three nar-
row golden bands.
And thus each State told its own story,
and one could not often look on as beautiful
a sight as the United States presented, per-
sonated as they were by charming, laugh-
ing girls, costumed in fashionable frocks,
and made from material as diverse in color
as are the tints of the
rainbow.
To please grandpapa,
who was glad of the
revival of old-fashion-
ed dances, the party
opened with the cotil-
lion. Dorothy Q led,
dancing with George
Washington. The fa-
vors were tiny trees
and hatchets, for of
course the old hatchet
story, whether tradi-
tional or true, must be
kept alive. Besides,
these favors being tied
with baby - width red,
white, or blue satin
ribbon, were later
matched, to decide the
partners for supper.
The blues went down
together, and so on.
After the
dance, the game
Acting Proverbs
was played. This
was done by one
of the compa-
ny leaving the
room, and on his
return acting in
such a manner
as to indicate to
the others a well-known proverb. Example, "A roll-
ing stone gathers no moss," was shown by the one hav-
ing left the room returning with a round stone in his
hand, and rolling it over the floor. When they grew
tired of this game they played another, which was alto-
gether different, called The Florist. The boy who took
the character of florist explained that he had flowers for
sale, and that he would try to sell all that he had by put-
ting a question to any person whom he thought would
buy, and that whoever in answering his question used
the words flowers, yes, or no, would have to pay a forfeit,
and that he would try all that lie could to get them to
use one of the prohibited words. Then turning to one
of the players, he asked, '' Can I sell you any fresh flow-
ers to-day?"
"The house has been fully supplied.
And addressing another, "Do buy
lets."
" Not to-day, sir."
"How about carnations?"
"I don't wish flowers of any kind."
And in that way a forfeit was incurred.
THE PARTY OPENED WITH THIS OLD-FASHIONED
COTILLION.
The questions should be rapidly asked, and as rapidly
answered, or the players will not get caught. When a
few forfeits have been paid they must then be redeemed.
One penalty might be to repeat quickly, four times with-
out an error, these words, "A lump of rich, rough, light,
red leather, a red, light, rough, rich leather lump." An-
other: stand in the cen-
tre of the room, and
without smiling count
ten backwards, courte-
sying between each
count; and still another,
make a boat by folding
a piece of paper.
When the forfeits
were redeemed the mu-
sicians played the Wash-
ington Two-step, and
soon all the little feet
were in the very poetry
of motion. At its close
a march was played,
and Dorothy Q and
George Washington led
the way to supper.
The dining - room
seemed, if possible, more
imbued with the spirit
of patriotism than the
rest of the house. Con-
spicuous in the decora-
tions was a large silk
American flag and a big bald-headed eagle,
and snapper mottoes, red, white, and blue,
nearly hid the table.
The supper was rich in variety and quail
tity. having the usual supply of salads, ices,
cake, and confections; the only odd thing
about it was a course of mulled cider and
crullers that grandpapa had insisted should
be part of the feast, and that Washington's
birthday would not be properly celebrated
without.
After supper there was a great deal of
dancing, in which grandpapa insisted on
taking his part. All the dances were, of
course, national as far as possible. The Vir-
ginia Reels, for example, were danced to the
tune of Yankee Doodle, and altogether the
party was one of the most original and
pleasant entertainments that either grand-
papa or the young people had ever seen. Then came the
good-byes, with the usual thanks for a happy time, which
in this case they all declared had been the merriest this
winter.
"THE 'SCUTNEY MAIL."
THE STORY OF A YOUNG PEOPLE'S NEWSPAPER
VENTURE.
BY SOPHIE SVVETT.
Thank you."
my sweet vio-
n^HE old tool-house was painted, after all, before it was
_L thought fit to serve as the publishing house and edi-
torial sanctum of The 'Sciitney Mail. Macurdy Green, like
Mrs. John Gil pin, might have a prudent mind, but the liter-
ary editor of the Mail, Miss Luella Pickering, wanted "to
have things look nice." Old Uncle Sol Ramsdell, who
was devoted to newspapers, offered to do the painting
without other pay than an occasional copy of the Ma/I,
and Tom, who had" an inexperienced belief in the "stretch-
262
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
ability" of twenty- five dollars, joyfully purchased the
paint.
It looked very smart and shining when it was done;
but by the time the imposing gilt- lettered sign The
'Scutney Mail,- was hung over the door, Tom had spent
all his twenty-five dollars and broken open his "motto"
bank, with the motto, which had sprung out the last time
lie put money in, staring him in the face — " small begin-
nings make great endings."
Macurdy, who believed in small beginnings, strongly
disapproved of this recklessness, but he could only agree
to Tom's often-repeated and frank assertion that "it
wasn't his twenty-five dollars."
It was arranged that the proceeds should be evenly
divided between the editors after a certain percentage on
Tom's money had been deducted.
The 'Scutney tradesmen, who were disposed at first to
regard the paper as boys' play — one. of the "make-be-
lieves" of Bobsy Briggs's dislike — ended by allowing the
Mail to print their advertisements at a very low rate;
and a concert company that gave an entertainment in
the Town Hall not only advertised in the paper, but had
its programmes and circulars printed by that press.
This success thrilled Macurdy's practical business soul.
But it was the beginning of a danger.
Bing Rawson, who was Polly Rawson's brother, want-
ed to have his finger in the editorial pie. That was
what Tom told Macurdy, warningly, in the very begin-
ning. Bing Rawson was only thirteen and a little fel-
low, who had red cheeks and baby-blue eyes, and looked
like a cherub; but it was the general verdict that Bing
was full of mischief. Altbough not devoted to his books,
Bing had very quick perceptions and a retentive metnoi^-,
and was one of the few boys to whom spelling and gram-
mar seemed to "come natural." And it was Bing's am-
bition to supplant the literary editor.
Bing was very apt to come gallantly to the front when
anything was happening in 'Scutney. It was he who en-
joyed the proud privilege of touching off the cannon at
the Fourth of July celebration; it was lie who had a com-
plimentary ticket to the circus, and sat well up in front,
and on one never-to-be-forgotten occasion rode in the
chariot will i the Fat Lady; it was he who spoke the longest
"piece" at school exhibitions and Sunday-school festi-
vals, and who acted the part of the page in the Village
Improvement Society's play.
Bing's great friend and ally was Derrick Croome, a
much larger boy than he, and inclined to rougher ways
and more serious mischief. The Rawson family, from
Grandma Rawson down to Polly, made a constant effort
to keep Bing from associating with Derrick Croome, but
so far it had been unsuccessful.
When the printing'business began, Bing thought that
the least they could do would be to let him help at that;
when that privilege was denied him — although his sister
Polly was the intimate friend of the literary editor, and
expected to have her story, "The Enchanted Pumpkin
Seed," printed in the paper — he demanded to be allowed
to distribute the concert circulars and programmes, work
for which the contract had been taken by the printers.
And Derrick Croome enforced the demand by threatening
to "punch their heads " and knock their partly set up
paper into " pi." (Derrick's father had been a printer in
the city where they came from.) And another and even
worse threat Derrick Croome (who was Mrs. Bigsby's
nephew) added to these terrifying ones:
"I'll tell my aunt what you keep in the old granary,
you and that foolish fellow. She's going to put her foot
down on that granary business, anyhow, and on the
paper too, if I tell her what I'm going to, if Bing don't get
his rights."
Macurdy calmly shut the door in the face of the enemy.
It was not that the last direful threat did not move him;
on many a cherished hope and plan of his had Mrs.
Bigsby put down her foot. If any threat could make him
flinch, it was that one, of turning Mrs. Bigsby's attention
afresh to his occupancy of the old granary. But Macurdy
was not of the flinching kind; and that was all there was
about it.
"They're an awful pair," said Tom, dejectedly. " Bing
•isn't so bad, and he wouldn't dare to do much, but with
Derrick Croome to back him —
Tom shook his head dismally. It was a dismal-look-
ing head, for mumps had developed on both sides at once,
and Tom was not in a state to take cheerful views of
things.
"I guess we sha'n't be bullied into giving any fellow a
job,'' said Macurdy, busily setting type. This was the
third issue of the paper, and Jim's story of the Queen of
Sheba was to appear, and Macurdy was especially anxious
that there should be no mistakes in that. "Besides, we
promised the job to little Tim Golden, who wants to buy
shoes for the twins. When a boy has to help his mother
that's a widow — Those threats won't come to anything,
you'll see," added Macurdy, as he worked away.
And perhaps the threats might not have amounted to
anything if something had not happened to increase
Derrick Croome's wrath against the editors and the pro-
prietor of The 'Scutney Mail. It happened that very day,
after Bing Rawson and Derrick had walked slowly away,
engaged in low and confidential conversation, that little
Lizzie Magill, who lived with her old grandmother and
her lame brother Patsy in a lane by the river, came
running in, tearful and breathless, to beg that "a piece"
about Derrick Croome's dog might be put into the paper.
"We're thet in drid of him that we hardly dares to
stir out of the house," said Lizzie. "Me grandmother
is afther bavin' her petticoats torn, and she bringiu' home
the washin', and little Patsy does be that frightened since
lie was bit by him, that we can't get him to go to school
at all, at all. And the fairther himself bein' S'lectman,
and own in' the bit uv a place over our heads, what can the
loikes of us do at all? And so will ye put the rashkill of
a dog, and the big bad boy Derrick Croome that owns him,
in your paper, and niver let on I asked you, and I'll
thank ye kindly, and so will manny more besides!"
Macurdy looked more and more troubled as he listened
to Lizzie's recital of her grievances, and Tom's mumpy
face grew dismally long.
"You — you run along now, Lizzie, and we'll see what
we can do," said Macurdy. "It — it's a pretty serious
matter." And Lizzie went reluctantly out, reiterating
the woful tale of the grandmother's petticoats and
Patsy's enforced absence from school.
"I guess it would be a serious matter to meddle with
Derrick Croome just now," said Tom.
" Look here, now, Tom !" Macurdy mounted the high
stool in the composing-room, and thrust his hands deep
into his pockets. " This is a square issue. I've talked a
good deal about making this paper pay, but I've thought,
too, about having it take a right stand about things. Of
course we don't want to meddle with politics, and things
that are too big for us, but when anything disturbs the
peace and comfort of the town, like that vicious dog of
Derrick Croome's, I think it belongs to the press to say
something about it. Of course we don't want to tackle
Derrick Croorne."
" Well, I rather think we don't!" said Tom, hastily and
heartily.
" But I don't want to have anything to do with a paper
that's afraid to take the right stand when the community
needs its influence !" said Macurdy.
Tom felt a great admiration for Macurdy's flow of
language, and he wished that he had listened more atten-
tively to the minister and the Fourth of July orators, but
he wasn't inclined to risk cuite so much for principle as
FEBRUARY 12, 1895.
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
263
Macurdy was. But he came around to Macurdy's views
at length, the usual result of Macurdy's eloquence or of
his stronger spirit, and Macurdy wrote "a piece," setting
forth the danger and distress occasioned by a vicious dog,
and although he called no names, making it perfectly
evident that it was Derrick Croome's clog that he meant.
The " piece '' was written and set up that very afternoon,
and Derrick Croome read it the next day but one.
And the next week something happened. The mumps
had gone hard with Tom, and he was convalescing slowly,
and Macurdy had unfortunately had an unusual num-
ber of hard "stents," and they had both been obliged to
work witli might and main at odd moments to get started
on this week's paper; and they were not a little anxious
as to whether they should get it all set up in time.
There had been prophecies that that paper would soon
fail to appear, having only boys to manage it, and both
Macurdy and Tom felt that to have those prophecies ful-
filled would be an unendurable disgrace.
So it happened that after a hard and anxious and fever-
ish day — he had been obliged to work on the sly, because
it was not thought proper that a boy too ill to go to school
should be occupied in printing a newspaper — Tom was
sound asleep at eleven o'clock at night, and entirely
oblivions of stealthy noises about the publishing house.
Luella, too, who, with editorial work and music and a
church fair, found quite enough to occupy her out of
school hours, was tired enough to sleep well, and to hear
nothing of the marauders who were ruthlessly fulfilling
Derrick Croome's threat of knocking the precious forms
of The 'Scutney Mail into " pi."
But Polly Rawson, a little way further down the street,
had been having a bad dream. Polly meant lobe a good
sister, and Bing often lay heavily on her mind, and she
dreamed that Bing had turned into a flapjack (that was
Grandma Rawson's name for griddle-cakes), and when
she tried to turn him on the griddle he went flopping
into the fire. Polly awoke with a start, fairly jumping
up in bed, and for a moment it seemed as if the dream
really must be true. Polly had a very vivid imagina-
tion, as you would know if you could read "The Enchant-
ed Pumpkin Seed."
Presently she heard a very queer noise directly under
her window — a noise of footsteps and light wheels and a
queer little rattle mingled with it. Polly sprang out of
bed and hurried to ihe window. There were two figures
— Bing's small and slender one and great hulking Der-
rick Croome's — and Bing's hand-cart piled full of some-
thing that rattled as the boys drew the hand-cart cautious-
ly along.
Polly had heard from her friend, the literary editor, of
Derrick Croome's threat, and she saw instantly that it
was being put into execution. Not only had the printing
been knocked into pi, but they had stolen and were carry-
ing away the type, and probably the press itself, for some-
thing loomed large and black in the semi-darkness — the
full moon was just then covered with light clouds — and
they evidently had a heavy load.
Something startled the boys, and they began to run.
Polly checked her first impulse to call after them, to
arouse the house. That course would involve so much
delay. And this was more serious mischief than Bing
often indulged in; it would certainly cause his busy arid
long-suffering father to fulfil his threat of sending him
away to school, and Polly did not think that a large school,
where he would have no sister to look after him, was the
place for Bing.
These thoughts were swift ones; Polly was dressing
herself .while they flashed through her mind. She stole
softly down stairs, slipped on a warm jacket and cap, got
out her bicycle as noiselessly as possible, mounted it, and
was off in pursuit of the thieves.
What were they going to do with their spoils? If it
IT WAS HE WHO ROPE IN THE CHARIOT WITH THE FAT LADY.
were only a little lighter so that she could see them far
ahead ! The January thaw had extended into February,
and the ground was so slightly frozen that tire cart wheels
made but little noise; yet, straining her ears when she
came to a turn in the road which made her uncertain
which way to go, Polly detected the distant rumble and
rattle of the hand -cart. The poor-house pond! They
meant to throw the contents of the hand-cart into the
pond ! Polly's heart sank as this suspicion grew into cer-
tainty, for by the light of the moon, which had emerged
from the clouds, she saw that the cart had turned into the
lane by the poor-house which led to the pond — a small
sheet of water, but so deep that there had always been a
village tradition that it had no bottom.
If the boys had meant to secrete the press or the type,
returning it after a while, it would have seemed more
like merely boyish mischief; but to destroy it was a depth
of wickedness into which she would scarcely have believed
that Bing could be enticed.
A feeble and flickering light burned in an upper win-
dow of the poor-house as Polly, not having decided upon
any plan of action, but afraid to hesitate, turned into the
lane. The light disappeared as she rode, swiftly and as
softly as possible, down the lane, and suddenly reap-
peared at the open door of the poor-house. It was a can-
dle held above Jim's tall yellow head. Jim extinguished
it suddenly, and ran towards the pond. He turned at
the sound of Polly's wheel, and shrank back in evident
alarm as she drew near.
"Jim! Jim! don't be afraid." she said, softly. "I'm
trying to stop some mischief, and you must help me!"
"You — you're agirl on a bicycle, aren't you?" said Jim,
slowly, with an accent of relief. "You looked like a
witch, growing bigger and bigger in the moonlight.
Yes, I know there's mischief; those boys that went along
with a hand-cart are Derrick Croome and Bing Rawsou."
A heavy splash came to their ears, and Polly cried out,
264
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
GETTING OUT AN EDITION OF "THE 'SCUTNEY MAIL.
frantically, as she slipped from her bicycle beside the
boys at the water's edge: " Bing, don't you dare to de-
stroy property like that! I'll ring my bicycle bell and
arouse every one 'in the poor-house, and have you ar-
rested."
" We — we didn't throw any thing overboard but a rock,"
stammered Bing, startled out of his accustomed audacity
by the sudden appearance of his sister.
"You did it to see how deep the water was! You
meant to throw the press into the water," said Polly, ac-
cusingly.
Jim seized the handle of the cart from Derrick Croome.
"They're Macurdy's things, and I'm going to take care of
them," he said, as if it were a matter of course.
Derrick loosed Jim's hold with a jerk and a rough
mother. Perhaps Derrick Croome had
some misgivings, or the cart was heavy
to tip, and in the moment's pause Ihe
poor-house door opened, and a tall figure
came hurrying out.
"Here's Mr. Peters with his gun!"
cried Polly.
Sing's small person instantly disap-
peared from sight behind a tree, and Der-
rick Croome— well, what could you ex-
pect? a bad boy like him is almost always
a coward — Derrick Croome ran away,
behind the trees that bordered the pond,
over the stone wall, and across the pas-
ture.
And after all it was only Caddy For-
sythe who had come out of the poor-
house door — Caddy Forsythe with her
broom; she was a poor insane woman,
whose husband and sons had been lost
at sea, and she swept and swept with a
broom to sweep away trouble. She was
harmless, and wandered about at her own
will day and night. She wandered off
to the b;irn. sweeping diligently all the
way, and without seeing the group by the
pond.
For once, thought Polly, poor Caddy
Forsythe's broom had swept away trouble.
Bing emerged from his retirement.
" Derrick Croome's a coward!" he said,
wrathfully. "I wouldn't have run away
and left him like that!"
Polly was helping Jim to wipe theblood
from his face.
"We can take the cart back without
any of his help," she said, resolved to
strike while the iron was hot. "And
though you've spoiled the paper for this
week, perhaps what you meant to do need
never be known — unless you want to
confess it, and do all you can to make up
for it."
"I guess not much!" responded Bing,
gruffly, but with a little uneasy laugh.
"They put in a piece about Derrick's dog, and they were
sarsy, and wouldn't give me a job."
"This was a noble, a manly revenge, wasn't it? Oh,
Bing Eawson!" began Polly, hotly. But she checked
herself. One must manage Bing. Being a sister was
not easy. "I will leave my bicycle. Jim will take
care of it and help push the cart," she said.
But Jim declared that he was not hurt, and he would
help push the cart. They were Macurdy's things ; he
wanted to take care of them. Oh no, he would not be
missed, he said, in answer to Polly's question. He had
been sitting up writing the "piece" about Sarah Loud
for the Mail when he heard the noise of the cart in the
lane.
" You can't help much, you're only a girl," growled
push, and Jim fell heavily, striking' his head against the Bing, glad of a chance to emphasize any point of su peri-
cart wheel; he arose to his feet staggering, and a trickle ority to Polly, who thought herself so superior.
So the little midnight procession started hurriedly, for
Caddy Forsy the • had come out of the barn, still sweep-
ing busily, and she was coming towards them as if she
thought them something to be swept away.
Polly, going ahead on her bicycle, saw in the bright
moonlight, as she turned out of the lane, a wreath of
smoke curling upward behind Farmer Bigsby's house —
a curling smoke and a swiftly leaping flame.
"The old granary, Bing! Derrick Croome has set Ihe
old granary on fire!" she cried.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
of blood was plainly visible upon his cheek in the moon-
light,
"I — I didn't mean to hurt him," stammered Derrick,
evidently a little frightened. " But I ain't going to have
a girl or a foolish fellow interfering with me!" Derrick
moved the cart towards the edge of the pond, and prepared
to tip its contents into the water.
Polly uttered a half-smothered cry and put her hand
on her bell. It had a sharp ring, that little bell, and
would arouse every one in the poor-house, and it would
bring disgrace upon Bing, trouble upon his father and
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.
BY W. T. HENDERSON.
CHAPTER XXIX.
AN ANXIOUS VIGIL.
IN an agony of fear and grief Harold and George bent
over their classmate, and sought to ascertain the nature
of his injury.
" Ob, Frank!" exclaimed George; "can't you speak?"
"He's unconscious," said Harold. " He ought to be
removed to the sick- bay. '
"These fellows don't seem to know what to do,'' said
George, impatiently.
" I wish Bennos were here," Harold said.
One of the sailors seemed to catch the boy's meaning.
" Bennos," he ejaculated. " Si, si, Bennos."
The man hastened away. At the same moment the
firing ceased. The Aquidaban had passed out of accu-
rate range of the forts, and was opposite the city. The
bugles sounded the order to secure, and presently the
guns were put to rest for the night. Bennos came run-
ning along the deck, while the bugles were still sounding.
"Oh, amigo mio!" he cried, sorrowfully, as he saw
Frank's unconscious form.
He speedily gave orders for the removal of the boy to
the sick-bay. He was evidently indignant that so many
precious minutes had been wasted.
" Perhaps he'll bleed to death; no one will care," said
the young Brazilian, angrily.
A stretcher was brought, and Frank was placed on it.
Two stalwart seamen carried him to the sick-bay, where
the ship's surgeon at once began to undress him prepara-
tory to making an examination. Harold and George
stood outside the door of the room in feverish anxiety.
They turned their heads at the sound of heavy footsteps,
and saw Captain Lockwood, Bob, and Minnie coining
toward them. The boys grew a shade paler, and looked
atone another anxiously.
" What shall we say to him?" asked Harold.
" Or to her," said George.
The Captain approached with a smile, and said:
"Thought you'd get down out of the line of fire, too?"
Well, that shows your good sense. You'd be mighty
stupid to take chances of getting hurt in a quarrel that
don't concern you."
"Oh, the firing's all over now, "said George, with an
attempt to be cheerful. " Eobert ought to keep out of
sight, sir."
"Oh, this deck's about deserted. Well, for my part,
I'm glad the firing's done. Aren't you, Minnie?"
" Oh yes, father; I think it's terrible, and I can't help
fancying I see some poor fellow torn by shot.''
" Not so very much danger of that in a ship of this
sort, is there, boys?"
" No, not so much as in a wooden ship," said George.
" Still," said Harold, gravely, " men do get hurt some-
times in the most powerful battle-ships."
" I hope no one has been hurt on this ship," said Min-
nie, with apprehensive eyes.
The boys were silent.
" Some one has been hurt," said the Captain.
" I was sure of it from the way you talked,'' said
Minnie.
A faint moan was heard coming from the room behind
the boys.
" What's that?" asked the Captain, starting.
"What place is this?" inquired Minnie.
"This is the sick-bay," said Harold.
" That's the ship's hospital," explained Captain Lock-
wood. " But why do you stand in front of the door?"
"YOU'VE BEEN RECOGNIZED," SAID HAL. "PULL, LADS, PULL.'
266
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"We are waiting to know whether our friend is badly
wounded," said Harold, in a trembling voice.
"Your friend? Why, say, it's not that nice young
Brazilian officer, is it?"
Again the boys were silent.
"Oli, father!" cried Minnie, " they don't dare to tell
us; it's Frank !"
The stout old merchant Captain staggered as if he had
received a heavy blow.
" Don't tell me it's the boy," he said.
Harold grasped the honest mariner's hand. " I wish to
Heaven I could tell you it was not," he said.
For a few moments the Captain was speechless, while
Minnie cried quietly.
"Are the doctors working over him in there?" Robert
finally asked.
"Yes," said George; "and Bennos is helping them.
We could do nothing because we don't understand the
language."
" How did it happen?" asked the Captain.
" Well, sir," said Harold, " Frank was not pleased
with the marksmanship of his gun-captain, so he thought
he would take a shot himself. He sighted the gun very
carefully and fired. Almost at the same instant a small
shell from the shore came whizzing through the port and
burst on the side of the gun-carriage. It must have
struck the forward end of the carriage. I think, and that's
what makes me hope that Frank isn't badly hurt. The
bulk of the carriage and the breech of the gun must have
been between him and the explosion; so I think he was
struck by a small fragment. Anyhow, when the smoke
cleared away we saw him lying on the deck."
" Unconscious?"
" Yes, sir; I must say that he was."
" How long lias he been in the sick-bay?" asked Robert.
"About ten minutes."
"Then surely they ought to be able to give us some
news of his condition?" said the Captain.
Just then Bennos opened the door of the sick-bay wide
enough to speak to the boys.
"The doctor can't tell yet. He must examine a little
more," he said.
Bennos retired into the sick-bay, and the four watchers
resumed their anxious vigil. The minutes were hours
long to them. The Captain paced up and down with his
hands behind his back and his head bowed. He looked
as if he were in deep thought, but ever and anon a heavy
sigh told that his heart was full of grief. The girl stood
watching him and occasionally wiping away her tears,
which flowed freely. George shifted about restlessly,
but Harold stood like a statue, with clinched lips and
strained eyes. Presently the door swung open, and Ben-
nos appeared once more. The four watchers turned
eagerly, and George said,
"What's the verdict?"
"I am glad," said Bennos, speaking rapidly. "He is
not badly hurt. The most trouble is the shock and the
loss of blood. He will get well surely, but slowly."
'' Thank Heaven !" exclaimed the Captain, fervently.
CHAPTER XXX.
PLACED UNDER ARREST.
THE night was a long and weary one for Captain Lock-
wood, his daughter, and the two boys. Bennos offered to
give up his state-room to Minnie, but she naturally de-
clined to pass the night separated from her father.
Through the kind offices of the young Brazilian they
were provided with cushions and blankets, and permitted
to sleep on the locker in the mess-room. The two boys
and Robert were given hammocks and allowed to swing
them .in a roomy corner.* As they overhauled the clews
and cast off the lashings George said, with a faint smile:
"Hal, this takes me back to Constellation days. I
shouldn't be surprised if we were turned out in the night
to reef topsails."
" I wish there were no possibility of our being turned
out for anything more serious," said Harold.
" But you are not alarmed about Frank now, are you?"
" I hardly know what to think," said Hal. " I wish
he was in the hands of our own surgeon.''
"Then you haven't confidence in these fellows
here?"
"Not of the most perfect kind."
"Well," said George, thoughtfully, "they must know
their business. It's likely that the best surgeons in the
service are aboard this ship."
Harold lay awake for a long time considering what
was to be done in the morning. He was unable to solve
the problem, especially as he and his two companions
had to be aboard the Detroit again before ten o'clock.
At length, worn out by the events of the day, he fell
asleep and slept soundly till reveille. Immediately after
breakfast he went to Bennos and informed him of the
necessity of returning to the Detroit. Captain Lock-
wood, who was now at Frank's side, was sent for.
" I'll stay here for the present," said the old mariner.
" You boys and Mr. Ball get Bob aboard the Alma, if it's
possible, and then Mr. Ball can send the boat back for me
later in the day."
" I don't know just how to manage about Bob," said
Hal.
"Beggin' yer pardon ag'in, sir," said Peter, "an I'd
like to make a siggistion."
"Go ahead," said Hal.
"Waal, sir," said the cockswain, "Mr. Robert he are
took werry sick, werry sick indeed; an' we has to cover
up his head, sir, fur to keep the sun from him, an' so we
carries him down into the boat an' lays him along the
bottom, an' there he stays till he are safe."
"Peter," said Hal, "you're a jewel."
The boys now applied, through Bennos, for permission
to leave the ship, which the Brazilian commander was
pleased to grant. The Alma's boat was got alongside by
Mr. Ball, and the party prepared to depart.
"Leave me to do all the yarnin'," said Peter; "'cos
w'y; wot good are a sailor wot can't tell a yarn, egspe-
gially to save a young gemman?"
Peter covered up Robert's head and supported him to
the deck as if he were very sick indeed. He was taken
to the boat and caused to lie down. Minnie trembled
and turned pale with anxiety as the boat pushed off.
They had gone safely about fifty yards, when Robert
raised his head for some reason ; a whiff of wind blew the
light covering off it and overboard. At the same instant
a sailor on the Aquidaban's forecastle uttered a loud cry
and rushed aft, shouting and pointing at the boat.
"You've been recognized," said Hal. "Pull, lads,
pull."
" In the boat there !" came a hail from the Aquidaban's
deck. " Cease rowing, or we'll fire."
"Pull hard," said Harold, between his set teeth.
Bang! A shell from a rapid-fire gun struck the water
not three feet from the boat. Minnie shrieked.
"Hold on," said Robert, springing up. "My sister
mustn't be exposed to fire. Take me back and surrender
me."
" W'ich I reckon that are about all we can do," said
Peter.
"Worse luck to it," muttered Mr. Ball.
Slowly the boat returned to the ship's side.
"Come on board, all of you," was the order.
It was obeyed in silence. The Brazilian commander
was standing at the gangway.
"So, my fine young American friends," he said, "you
are trying to help a condemned deserter to escape."
FEBRUARY 12, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
267
"Yes, lie's condemned, but I dare you to shoot him,"
said a voice behind the Brazilian.
Turning, the officer fonud himself confronted by Cap-
tain Lockwood, who was glaring at him with blazing
eyes.
" Pray, sir, what authority have you in this matter?"1
demanded the Brazilian.
"Just this," was the reply. "I'm the Captain of the
American bark Alma, which you didn't keep away from
a wharf, and which your agent 011 shore didn't destroy
last night, and that young man is my son."
The Brazilian Captain stared in amazement. For sev-
eral moments he hung his head in deep thought. Then
he said:
"This matter must be placed before Admiral Da Gama.
In the mean time your son must remain a prisoner here."
" And my daughter?"
" She may return with your mate to your ship."
"And what do you intend to do with us?" asked
Harold.
"I shall report your conduct in this matter to your
commanding officer."
"You needn't trouble yourself," said Harold; "we
shall do that ourselves the momejit we reach our ship.
Our leave expires in three-quarters of an hour."
"Indeed?" said the Brazilian, with agrim smile. " Well,
you'll stay here till I can get a boat ready to send you to
your sliip."
" Why can't we go in Captain Lockwood's boat?"
asked George.
"Because it's not my pleasure," was the curt reply,
and the officer walked away.
" Waal," said Peter, "as my ole mother remarked when
she fell into the bar'l o' vinegar, 'here's a pooty pickle.' "
"Anyhow," said Captain Lockwood, "Minnie and Mr.
Ball must go to the Alma."
So the mate of the bark slowly pulled the heavy dingy
away. It was over half an hour later when a boat was
reported alongside to take the three Americans to the
Detroit.
"The Captain hasn't been in any hurry about this,"
said Harold.
"He has intentionally made us late, " declared George.
The oarsmen in the cutter must have had orders to take
their time, for they did not break their backs in pulling
toward the Detroit. It seemed to the two boys that they
would never reach her. They were fully a hundred yards
away when the bell chimed out the hour of ten.
" Pull, you lazy rascals!" cried George.
" No use now, George," said Hal ; " we're late."
The cutter ran alongside the ladder and the two boys
leaped to the deck. They found themselves confronted
by the Executive Officer, Mr. Crane.
"What cutter is that?" he asked, sternly.
" The Aquidaban's, sir," said George; " we—
" You come from aboard her?"
"Yes, sir; we were —
"I didn't ask you where you were or what you were
doing. You got permission to go ashore for a specific
and proper purpose, and you come off from an insurgent
man-of-war after your leave has expired. You are both
under arrest."
" Under arrest!" exclaimed the boys.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
A QUESTION.
I'VE puzzled and puzzled since Christmas-time,
And now I must ask it of you :
If Santa Glaus' stomach is so big around,
How does lie get through
That little round flue?
If you can explain it, pray do.
HOW TO MAKE A CROSSBOW.
BY GEORGE ASHDOWN AUDSLEY.
VT7HEN I was a boy roaming the pleasant hills and
I ? woods of Scotland, nothing afforded me more amuse-
ment than a good crossbow; and many a crossbow I made
in those days. As doubtless many of the readers of this
journal would like to possess such a weapon, capable of
'throwing a missile a considerable distance with precision,
I shall in the briefest possible manner instruct them how
to make a simple and effective crossbow.
The construction of a crossbow such as I am about to
describe is a simple matter in the hands of a young me-
chanic, and it is also attended with very little expense.
The first thing to be made is the stock, and while, so far
as utility is concerned, it may be formed in the roughest
fashion, I strongly advise you to take pains and finish it
carefully. You should early in life learn and practise
the golden rule that whatever you do that is worthy of
being done should be done with all your might, being
fully assured that doing well always brings its own
reward.
The stock may be made of clean white pine, or, what is
better, straight-grained oak, walnut, or ash. Take a piece
of wood, dressed on both sides and the top edge, 3 feet
6 inches long, 7-j inches wide, and 1-| inches thick, and
carefully cut out the stock in the form and proportions
given in Fig. 1. The dotted line indicates the dimensions
of the piece of wood. In shaping and finishing the " butt "
and the "grip," you had better take an ordinary shot-gun
as a model ; you will save time and arrive at a satisfactory
result by so doing. The portion required for the lock
(shown enlarged in Fig. 2) must be left flat at the sides,
and the full thickness of the wood. The head should
also be left Hat on the sides, and pierced to accurately fit
the centre of the bow. The barrel extending between the
lock and the head should be neatly rounded on its under
side, as indicated in Figs. 1 and 3. Groove the upper face
of the barrel from the lock to the end with a segmental
channel ^-inch wide and -f-inch deep, for the purpose of
holding and guiding the "bolts" or "quarrels" in the
process of shooting. A section of the barrel showing the
channel is given in Fig. 3.
The lock is a somewhat important piece of mechanism,
but it is of the simplest construction, as will be seen by
reference to Fig. 4. A is a small brass wheel, gr-inch
thick, in which two notches are filed, one for the recep-
tion of the bowstring, and the other the detent in which
the trigger, B, acts. The trigger is kept in its place by
means of a small spring screwed to the under side of
the stock. For the reception of this mechanism you
must carefully cut a mortise of the form shown, j-inch
wide, through the lock-piece of the stock, and file it until
it is perfectly smooth inside and accurately fitted to the
wheel and trigger. In placing the wheel and trigger in
position, lay them accurately together on the outside of
the lock-piece, and with a brad-awl or screw which fits
the holes in the wheel and trigger make corresponding
holes in the stock. Now bore these holes squarely through
the stock, and secure the wheel and trigger within the
mortise by screws or pieces of stout iron wire. You can
either turn and file the wheel and the trigger out of
pieces of flat brass plate, or prepare patterns in wood and
have the pieces cast at any brass-founder's. They should
be finished ^-inch thick, and have their pivot holes about
-r^-inch in diameter. The notch for the bowstring must
be rounded at its edges and made very smooth, so as not
to cut or fray the string. My drawings show every de-
tail so accurately that further description of this portion
of the crossbow is unnecessary.
I now come to the bow required to complete the wea-
pon. The best bow is one made of steel: but as such a
bow is too expensive, too difficult to bend by the unaided
268
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
FIG. 1
Fic.,3
DIAGRAM OF THE BOW WITH BOLTS.
hand, and unnecessarily powerful, it may be left uncle-
would be to purchase a cheap lancewood bow about
five feet long, and cut about twelve inches off each end,
tapering the new ends slightly, and forming fresh notches
for the reception of the bowstring. Whip with thin
cord, well waxed, a length of twelve inches in the middle
of the bow; and then fit the centre accurately in the hole
'cut in the head of the stock, and secure it there by thin
wedges of hard- wood. The bowstring- must be very strong,
as it is subjected to considerable wear. The best string
is formed of stout catgut, doubled, and whipped in the
middle, where it is held by the catch of the lock, and ad-
joining the loops at each end with thin cord or strong
sill;. The whipping should be renewed as it becomes
worn by the lock and contact with the quarrels. Fig. 5
shows a top view of the weapon, with the bow drawn
ready for action.
The simplest and best form of the crossbow bolt or
quarrel is that given in Fig. U. It is made from pieces
of any kind of straight-grained hard-wood turned in the
shape of the drawing A. The tail -piece, B, is simply
cut away on opposite sides, forming a feather end, as in-
dicated at C; and this is notched, as shown at D, for the
reception of the bowstring as it is released from the lock.
When the quarrels are used blunt, as at E, their heads
should be plugged with lead to give them the necessary
weight, but when they are required for target-shooting
they should have brad-awls fixed in their heads, as shown
at F.
If you have followed my instructions, and finished
your crossbow, I can promise you much enjoyment in
scribed. A very good bow can be made of lancewood or its use, and after some practice you will become a skilled
hickory, and perhaps the best course for you to adopt crossbowman.
GREAT STATE PAPERS.
BY HENRY CLEMENT HOLMES.
OUR TREATIES, AND WHO MAD'E THEM.
WHILE there is but one original Treaty of Versailles,
one Treaty of Washington, one Clayton - Bulwer
Treaty — which last you so often hear mentioned — there
are at least two official copies of all other treaties. These
are called "exchange copies," because they are really
exchanged by representatives of the governments which
are parties to them, and the exact moment at which this
exchange is made by those representatives is that mo-
ment on which the treaty becomes legally operative in
both countries affected by it.
Treaties take their names after cities, or after courts
at which the\r are drawn up. Thus the Treaty of Versailles,
dated at Paris, affects- the United States and England.
The famous Treaty of Berlin affected in vital degree not
Germany, but England and Russia.
After a treaty has been negotiated and ratified by both
governments that are parlies to it, our Stale Department
prepares an " exchange copy " of it, which it presents to
the other party to the treaty. If it be a treaty with
Japan, C'liina, or any countries of the far East, or if it
be one with Turkey. Russia, Sweden, or
Greece, it is written in some European
language. If it be a treaty with Spain.
Portugal, or any of the South American re-
publics, it is usually written in Spanish
and English.
The treaty is engrossed upon parchment,
on one side of the sheet, and the seal of
the United States, which, unlike the seal
of almost every other nation of the world,
is not wax, but embossed white paper, is
placed at the left of the official signa-
ture at the end of the document.
This official signature is not that of the Secretary of
State or of a commissioner, as in the case of an original,
but the signature of the President of the United States.
The parchment used is ten by eighteen inches in size, and
to preserve the sheets there are provided stiff covers of
red or blue Russia leather.
The exchange copy 'of our last treaty with Spain was
engrossed in a hand that was more beautiful than print.
The paper was divided down the middle by a pale blue
line. On the left of the line was written the English
version, and on the right the Spanish one. In mention-
ing the parties to the treaty we always mention ourselves
first, thus reversing the usual rule of private etiquette.
The Spanish government prepared a similar exchange
copy, signed by the Spanish sovereign. In this one the
Spanish version is written on the left, or first, half of the
page, the English on the second, or last, and Spain fol-
lows the universal diplomatic custom by mentioning her-
self first.
These exchange copies having been prepared, the rep-
TBE JAPANESE TREATY IN ITS LACQUER BOX.
FEBRUARY 12, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
269
JAPANESE TREATY OPEN.
resentatives of the two countries meet by appointment,
and formally trade copies. Hence our exchange copies
are not at Washington, but in foreign capitals, while in
the State Department at Washington may be seen, if you
get the necessary permission to do so, exchange copies
that have been prepared in almost every part of the
globe, and which bear the autographs of almost every
sovereign and President of the world for the last hundred
years and more.
Exchange copies made by us to present to foreign na-
tions are severely plain when compared with those that
foreign nations present to us. Those from Siam, Japan,
and China contain all the flummery that can be crowded
into or upon them. They bear gold lettering in profu-
sion, seals as big as the crown of your hat, and enough
ribbon to stock a notion-counter of a metropolitan store.
A famous treaty of amity and commerce was drawn
up between this country and the Tycoon of Japan, and
the exchange copy of it, prepared by the Japanese For-
eign Office for presentation to us, is a work of art. First,
there is a black lacquer box of exquisite make tied with
heavy cords and tassels of purple silk. Raising the lid,
one sees the treaty contained in a book over half an inch
thick, and bound in gold brocade. The text of the treaty
is in Dutch, but accompanying this is the document
known as the " full power," a few sheets of paper bearing
Japanese characters, and contained in a sewn slip of while
and gold brocade ; both the treaty and " full power'' are
wrapped in a large square of scarlet silk brocade.
Another unique exchange copy is the one between
the United States and the Sultan of Muscat, called the
Treaty of Muscat. It is written in Arabic upon linen
paper that is bordered with scarlet and gold lines, and en-
closed in a highly polished three-jointed ivory cylinder.
Uncle Sam is also in receipt of many queer articles that
signify to the senders amity 'and good-will. There is a
whale tooth from the Fiji Islands, a grass robe trimmed
with bird feathers from Samoa, a daguerreotype of the
King of Korea, and a silver urn from the Queen of Mada-
gascar.
A student in Syracuse University, who is deeply inter-
ested in autograph -collecting, penned a polite request
for an autograph, enclosed a postal note for twenty-five
cents, and addressed the envelope, "Victoria, Queen of
Great Britain, London. England." He waited three
months for a response. Then he wrote again, making tin1
same polite request, but adding a postscript to the effect
that in his opinion either the autograph or the quarter
ought to be forth-coming. At the end of a little more
than a month he received the auto-
graph.
I would not encourage this sort of thing
among American boys and girls. The
Queen never knew, of course, that the
student made such a request, yet the auto-
graph was genuine. Did you ever see
Queen Victoria's autograph? I have seen
it many times in the British Museum,
among records of Parliament in Somer-
set House, London, and on exchange
copies of treaties in the State Depart-
ment, Washington.
Queen Victoria writes a coarser hand
now than she used to do, but it is still
firm and full of character. She now
signs herself, "Victoria, R. I.," — the let-
ters on the same line with her name. Be-
fore she added the " I " she used to write
the "R" beneath her name, connecting
it with the final stroke of the "a" in her
name by a rather stiff flourish. Of
course the "R" signifies Queen of Great
Britain and Ireland, and the " I " Empress
of India, the Latin initials being used. Here is a pen de-
scription of a late autograph, the signature to an ex-
change copy of a treaty between this country and Eng-
land relative to the Northwest boundary — that 54° 40' one
to which your grandfather in a famous political cam-
paign added the words, "or fight."
The " V " is seven-eighths of an inch tall, and she used
exactly four inches of horizontal space in writing the ten
letters. If you try to make these letters fill the space
indicated you will see that this signature is a very bold
one — for a woman to write. The "Vis not correctly
made, but is crossed near the top, and looks almost ex-
actly like the lower part of a small writing "y "set up
on the line. The " t " is crossed twice — once with a heavy
flourish above it, and once with a pen mark running up-
ward, left, and then to the first stroke of the letter. The
"R" follows the " a" without a break, falls far to the
right of the upright line, and has a very small top. Ex-
actly reversing this order, the capital "I, "which follows
the " R" without a raise of the pen, is almost all top, and
almost no bottom. The small letters are coarse, and the
capitals ungraceful. The whole looks quite unlike a
woman's hand, and unlike the hand of a person accus-
THK JU'SCAT TREATY.
270
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVL
tomed to the use of a pen. This signature is attached to
a very beautiful copy of this important treaty. It was pre-
pared in the London Foreign Office for presentation to us,
and is a book ten inches by fourteen in size. The covers
are stiff, and padded on the outside with scarlet plush;
on the inside with very pale blue satin.
The treaty is written upon sixteen pages of heavy
parchment, unruled, but bordered all around each page,
and very near the edge, by a single red line. The engross-
ing is most beautiful. There is no introduction, such as
"In the Name of the Most Holy and Undivided Trinity,"
that begins many treaties. Its first word is "Victoria,"
written quite large. Following this name there are
enumerated about a score of titles. When at last the text
reaches the party of the second part it calls us " Our good
friends," and specifies that the term means the United
States of America. Only at the very beginning is the
term explained. Throughout the rest of the treaty we
are called simply " Our good friends."
The lines go entirely across the page, and at the end is
the statement, "Given by the Court at Osborne, August
5, 1892." The covers are held together at the front by
two gros grain ribbons two inches in width. One is a
pale blue, and the other an emerald green ; the latter for
Ireland, I suppose, but against the pale blue and scarlet it
gives one's sense of color harmony a shock.
The parchment leaves are bound into the covers by two
large scarlet and silver-tinsel cords that are four feet long,
and that terminate in two ugly tinsel tassels. Before
reaching the tassels, however, the cords pass through the
seal, which is of pale olive-green wax, half an inch thick,
and six and one-half inches across — a cumbrous affair
that requires a tin box to preserve it in. One side of the
seal shows Victoria on the throne, with female attendants,
the whole suggestive of the marble group in the corridor
of the House of Lords at Westminster; the other side
of it represents the figure of the same sovereign, with the
words so familiar on the English coins as a border. The
whole is preserved in a black leather box, that is lined
with white plush, and built in compartments to accom-
modate the great seal.
CHINA'S MARINES.
T'HE Sublime Son of Heaven really wonders why it is
that his Celestial children do so little fighting and so
much running away. Poor fellow, he is not allowed to
go out at all and look about him, or he would see some
peculiar sights that would open his eyes. He has heard,
of course, how his ancestors, the Tartars and the Man-
choos, fought till they had pulled each other's pigtails
out by the roots and all that, and he has been taught
that the greatest of all great impossibilities is for the
Japanese or any other nation to disturb the unapproach-
able serenity of his realm.
I met with an amusing sample of China's marines
when going up the coast upon a rather small American
trading vessel. The Captain was a blue-eyed Yankee.
We were leaning on the rail, smoking and chatting.
There was just a working breeze. The vessel required
little attention except from the lookout and man at the
wheel. The water was smooth, the sun was hot. There
was a sail over ilie starboard bow. It was a Chinese
vessel. The two enormous ribbed sails, fashioned like
the shoulder- fins of a fish, were set to the light breeze,
and caught every breath of it. She was doing much
better than we.
The Captain philosophized a little upon the superiority
of some antediluvian ideas over modern notions, then,
carelessly handing me the glass, he asked, "Can you
make her out?''
It was easily done. She was evidently a mandarin
junk, manned by Chinese marines, doubtless one of the
coast patrols out there to hold pirates in check.
The Captain cast a quick glance about him, and re-
plied : "She'll be a pirate herself if she can come near
enough. There's no one looking on."
I had heard of such things happening, but as I looked
at the size of the junk, and then at our little vessel,
manned by twelve men, I was not in the least anxious to
have it happen now.
"She changed her course a while ago to cross our
bows," the Captain added, a little later. " Let's see if she
means business."
He tacked as far as he could and hold the wind. In a
moment the junk was again set to meet us, and coming
pretty close. There was no mistake about it ; yet the glass
showed only eight or ten men lying about on the deck.
The only one who seemed awake was a half-naked fellow
at the helm, and he was leaning over as though he was
on the point of taking a nap.
"They'll catch us, sure," the Captain muttered; but he
did not seem much disturbed.
" What can we do?" I asked.
" Not much of anything." He shrugged his shoulders.
"We've got some powder for that little cannon forward
for signalling, but I'm blest if there's a single shot in the
locker, or I would make a hole in her. Got a revolver?"
I produced my best friend in that line — one which had
several times served me well. To my astonishment, the
Captain calmly looked at it, saw that it was loaded, tested
the trigger, and deliberately put it in his pocket.
" It may come in handy," he said, as though there was
no possibility that I might find it "handy " myself. "I've
got a big navy down below, but nothing to put in it.
No use for it at sea, you know. I used to be a crack shot
with one of these things. I think I'll try it if I get a
good mark."
He ordered the cannon loaded to the muzzle, the colors
ready to run up, the four gates ready to open instantly,
with the cannon at the forward gate, and all hands below
ready to stand by when called for. Then, without a sailor
on deck but the man at the wheel, and as calmly as if
he were lyi-ng in port, he took a chew of tobacco, leaned
lazily 011 the rail and watched the mandarin junk.
Down she came, nearer and nearer, still without a sign
of activity. I began to think we were mistaken, after
all, well as I ought to have known the Chinese. She
was so near that we could hear the water lapping her
prow under the grim dragon with two great eyes, and
still the half-naked Celestial hung over the rudder arm
and dozed.
She came within easy speaking distance. She came
nearer. The fellow at the helm pushed a little. It was
evident he was intending to strike us right amidships.
It was not over two minutes off. There is something to
make a landlubber's nerves cringe in a sight like that.
"Hard a-port," the Captain muttered, without moving
his head.
I didn't believe the man could have heard at all, till
" Hard a-port, sir," came, in the same low tones, from the
man at the wheel, and in a moment the vessel came
about.
There was a wild yell from the junk, and suddenly
every foot of her deck, and even her ungainly rigging,
were alive. They were all naked to the waist. There
were a hundred or more of them. They sprang from
everywhere, yelling and brandishing different kinds of
weapons. A dozen caught the rudder beam to bring the
craft about, but she was much slower at it than our
vessel, with the result that, instead of coming in collis-
ion, we lay broadsides to, twenty feet apart.
The Captain did not move till the fiist yell sounded,
but then, quick as thought, he turned: "Stand by, boys.
FEBRUARY 12, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
271
Open the water-gates. Hun out the cannon, and let her
go. Up with the colors there — be lively! To the port-
rail, every man."
To the indistinct comprehension of a landsman this is
about what came from his lips, and came as fast as the
English language could conveniently be spoken. The
result was something astonishing. Naturally I was
watching the junk, wishing that I had my revolver, and
paying little attention to what was going on on our own
deck.
It was not over one minute, at the most, for we were
only abreast of each other, and the Captain of the junk
had barely gained a position in the rigging and begun
yelling to his men, when there was a crash like thunder
from our deck, a cloud of smoke rolling between the two
vessels, a report from my revolver, and the Captain of the
junk, with a furious contortion, fell headlong to the deck.
For a moment there was a tumult on the junk. I half
expected it would result in our total annihilation. The
next instant there was not a man in sight except the
wounded Captain, wriggling about on the deck, and the
fellow at the helm, who was wide awake, and tugging for
life to head the junk away from us.
From somewhere or other, in hiding, came a plaintive
wail: "No shootee. No shootee. Mellikan man all
lightee. Cheenaman no hurtee."
The Captain returned my revolver with the simple re-
mark, "So much for your Chinese marines."
THE STRANGE
ADVENTURES OF TOMMY
TUDDLES.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTER IX.
THE path to the sea led first down the hill, then across some
fields, and filially through a little stretch of woods. These
"were dark and spooky, and as Tommy tramped along under the
trees between the Shee|> and the ex-Pirate he imagined several
times that he heard strange noises in the underbrush. These
noises sounded like distant roars and growls — very faint, indis-
tinct roars and growls, to be snre, but roars and growls, never-
theless— and the little boy eonld not help recalling what the
Sheep had said aboilt lions at the time of the Welsh Rabbit's
visit to the Poor House. He tried not to display any timidity,
but he asked:
"Are — are there any lions around here?"
"Oh yes," auswered the Sheep, in the same careless tone he
would have used if Tommy had said " trees " instead of" lions" ;
but when he noticed that the little boy looked frightened, he
.added, "They are not dangerous lions, though; they are only
Dandelions."
Whereupon Tommy felt much relieved, and skipped along mer-
irily until he saw a Turtle-dove spread its wings and fly up into
the air and rest on the limb of a maple-tree. This was too much
•even for a little boy who had seen nothing but impossible things
all the afternoon. He stopped right short in the middle of the
road and gazed up at this new wonder.
"Now don't stand there and stare at that Turtle-dove." said
the ex-Pirate, somewhat impatiently; "we have not time to
•stand around and study unnatural history. If we don't Lurry
we won't reach the Penguin's till dark."
This was a very strong argument with the little boy, so he
gave one last glance at the Turtle-dove, and ran along until he
caught up with his two companions. In .1 few moments they
broke out at the edge of the wood, and found themselves only a
short distance from the seashore. The breakers were making
a great noise on the sand, and back of them the calm blue sea
. stretched away unspotted by any smoke or sail. Purely out of
Labit the ex-Pirate put his hand up over his eyes and looked
around from north to south the entire length of the sky-line.
Then he shook his head sadly and sighed:
"I'm no good at scanning the horizon any more. This busi-
ness of scanning hexameters and pentameters and Alexandriues
• spoils a man utterly for a good, all-arouud, every-day, smooth
horizon."
Tommy did not even try to understand what he was talking
-about, but trudged right along in silence beside the Sheep.
They bad not gone very far before they caught sight of two
figures in the distance.
"I'll bet that's Thingumbob," said the Sheep, calling the ex-
Pirate's attention to them.
"That's just who it is, and I wonder what he is doing?"
He certainly «•«« doing something, this figure whom they
called Thingumbob. As they drew nearer to him Tommy thought
he must be making a speech, for he could see that he was wav-
ing his arms and shaking his fists at his companion, who ap-
peared to be very much affected by what was being said. The
second figure Tommy soon made out to be a Seal. He was a
rather large Seal, and was sitting on a rock, while Thingumbob
stood on the sand in front of him. Tommy tried later to de-
scribe Thingumbob to his Uncle Dick, but he found himself
unequal to the task. At times the queer creature resembled
everybody Tommy had ever known, and yet again he looked
like nobody in particular. He was a nondescript sort of being,
entirely indescribable.
As they came nearer they could Lear him using the most
dreadful kind of language; he was scolding the Seal, and call-
ing him names in a most outrageous manner. He was so en-
grossed in pouring out this vituperation that he did not hear
the approach of Tommy Toddles and his companions. The Seal
was apparently greatly distressed over what Thingumbob was
saying, for he held his tins up to his eyes, and wept bitterly.
Neither the ex-Pirate nor the Sheep seemed in the least affected
by the scene.
"What is that awful person doing?" asked Tommy as they
came quite close to him.
"Who? Thingumbob?" said the Sheep. "Oh, that's all right!
But I suppose you don't understand. Look at him now." Thing-
umbob was holding a dipper in front of the Seal's face, and was
catching the poor beast's tears while he scolded him in the most
dreadful manner.
"Thingumbob always does that," the Sheep went on to say.
" Whenever he meets a Seal he scolds him and blackguards him
until the poor thing begins to cry. Then he catches the tears
in his dipper, because Seals weep sealing - wax, you know."
Tommy did not know it, but he nodded his head and looked to
the Sheep for more information. "Thingumbob is a great col-
lector of sealing-wax. He lias lots of it at home. All colors,
yon know. Most of it is red, though. Young Seals weep red
sealing-wax, and it is easier to make them cry. If you just pinch
a young Seal, or say ' Booh !' at him, he'll cry. Tlio middle-aged
Seals weep yellow and bine and brown and black sealing-wax.
The old fellows shed golden tears, and it's pretty hard to make
them cry."
"This one is crying in blue, ''said Tommy, for they had now
gotten close enough to Thingumbob and the Seal to be able to
see the contents of the dipper. It was almost fu41 of blue seal-
ing-wax.
" Hello !" said Thingumbob, when he saw the three : and turn-
ing toward them he waved his dipper at them in a friendly sort
of way.
" May I go now ?" whimpered the Seal, seizing the opportunity
to escape.
" Yes, you may go," shouted Thingumbob, fiercely ; " and don't
you let me catch you at it again!" The Seal hobbled off the
rock toward the surf, shedding blue tears on the sand as he
went (which Thingumbob carefully picked up as he followed
along behind), and then jumped into the waves and disap-
peared.
"That's pretty good for ten minutes' talk, isn't it?" remarked
Thingumbob, holding out his dipper for the others to inspect.
" How did you get it?" asked the ex-Pirate.
"Oh, I scared him half to death. I told him he bad been
putting the Sea-fox np to stealing my Chicken-lobsters, and
that I'd have him arrested and put up in an Eagle's nest on top
of a mountain."
The Sheep and the ex-Pirate seemed to think what Thingum-
bob said was very funny, for they laughed and asked him a lot
of questions. Tommy, in the mean while, was more interested
in Thingumbob's personal appearance than in \\ hat he said. Ho
was certainly the queerest-looking creature the little boy had
ever encountered. He never looked twice alike. When I hey
had first come up Tommy thought Thingumbob had gray side
whiskers, but as he looked now he had no whiskers at all. His
pockets were stuffed, and fairly bulging with all sorts of odds
and ends, among which Tommy could see bits of string, pieces
of spangled cloth, an old clock, a broken saw. a tin horn, a match-
box, shells, ribbons, picture cards, and all sorts of trash. The
ex-Pirate was evidently as much amused as Tommy at the sight
272
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVL
breakers, and strolled over
to where Tommy and his
friends were conversing.
[TO EK CONTINUED.]
TKACIIEK. "Thomas, how
is it that James can say his
alphabet so much better
than you can; he never
misses a letter?"
THOMAS. "He oughtn't to,
'cause his father's a post-
man."
WAG (to friend who ix try-
ing to polish lip a pair of old
patent-leather xliuts). " I say,
old man, don't \ on think
the patent has expired on
those?"
CH. "Oh, mamma,
see the carriage-wheels mak-
ing successful rebellious !"
MAMMA. •• What do you
mean, dear?"
MUHDOCH. " Why, mam-
ma, teacher said that revo-
lutions are successful rebel-
lious."
'WHAT IS THAT AWFUL PERSON DOING?" ASKED TOMMY.
of this odd collection of useless material sticking out of Thing-
umbob's pockets.
" What are you carrying all that stufl' around for?" he finally
asked.
"Oh, I always do, "replied Thingumbob.
"But it's nothing but a lot of trash, a lot of trumpery," said
Tommy.
"I know it," continued Thingumbob, calmly ; "but don't yon
know that yon can-always tell a man by the trumpery he keep.- .'"
And having thus spoken, he
sat down on a rock and began
to brush his hair, using the
lioltoiu of his tin dipper for
a mirror. It was a very old
brush that be used, and it
was very full of hairs, and as
Thingumbob proceeded with
his toilet he frequently
paused to look at it. Fi-
nally he said to the Sheep,
"I don't know how it is
about wool, bnl a hair on the
head is worth two in the
brush."
"So they say," replied the
Sheep; "but we have not
time to stay here and dis-
cuss I hat. We want to find
out :ibmit the tight."
"It's all over." said Thing-
umbob.
"Who won?"
"I forget," he added.
"Either the Swordlish or
BRAGGADOCIOS, BEWARE !
BILL BKOWN'S babyish
brothers (bolli being bad
boys) bamboozled bandy-
legged Bartholomew Braliam
by breaking Bernice Bra-
ham's beautiful bamboo bon-
bon basket.
Bernice being Bartholo-
mew's brother, became belligerent ; because, before Bill's bad
brothers broke Bernice's beautiful bamboo bonbon basket, both
began behaving badly by besmearing Bartholomew's Bible bind-
ing.
Both Browns being big babies boggled before Bartholomew.
Bartholomew beat both Browns badly. Both Browns being
big babies began boohooing.
Beruice bellowed, " Bravo, Barty ! Beat both braggadocios!"
Barty beat both bravely.
the Penguin won. I don't
remember which. But here
come some Clams; perhaps
they know."
Just then, as Thingum-
bob had said, half a do/en
flams stepped out of the
A COMIC VALENTINE— CAUGHT IN THE ACT.
HARPERS
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1895, by HABPHK & ER
All Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. svi. — NO. 799.
XK\V YORK, TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO UOLLAltS A YEAR.
THE SPIRIT OF INDEPENDENCE.
BY CAROLINE A. CREEVY AND MARGARET E. SANGSTER.
CHARACTERS:
1. MASSACHUSETTS MAUD.
2. CONNECTICUT GLADYS.
3. XKW HAMPSHIRE ELINOR.
7. PENNSYLVANIA ........ EMMA.
8. DELAWARE ........... ISABKL.
IP. MARYLAND ....... CATHARINE.
4. RHODE ISLAND. .. .MARGUERITE. 10. VIROINM .......... JOSEPHINE.
.">. XKW YOIIK ......... FLORENCE. 11. NORTH CAROLINA ..... BKSSIK.
6. NEW JERSEY ............. IDA. 12. SOUTH CAROLINA ........ MAY.
13. GEORGIA ............ HELEN.
SPIRIT OF INDEPENDENCE ...................... GENETIETE HOWARD.
(Costumes should be of red, white, and blue cheese-cloth.
Each State must wear upon her breast a shield bearing the name
of the Colony she represents. The occasion is a birthday party
to Genevieve, who
was born on Wash-
ington's birthday —
February 22d.
SCENE.— .4 parlor
in Mrs. Howard's
IK, UK,-. Thirteen
rhiiirsm; ,i n;i ni/i d
fur the expected
,/,/ixtx, ill tli I'd
(//•""/«, r< ],i't'gent-
iinj tin' .\i ir Enrj-
l,i ml, (', iilnil. it nd
SOU t III I'll
on Gene vk-ve, Mrs.
Howard. nnil the
Pago, (ienevieve
is dressed in irliite
irith ,i i-iil, irliit, ,
,iinl hi in- i/ird/i;
il ,-i-niri, nf ijilt i'il-
jit'r tin In i- lii ''(/, ill
7ier liiinil a irniiil
maili nf iim-i;iir rib-
bon — rnl,irliiti-,mid
bin, • — in, nnil ii/innt
a stick lipiifil n-itli
a star. The Page
xllllllld In' dr, Kill ill
Colonial ciix/nine,
irhieh i-ii it In hired,
including a poio-
ili red -trig. The
girls repi'isi ntin,/
the thii-li'i ii nil, inies
should have their
hair powdered.
Mrs. Howard, in
In r iiirii rim meter
n ml plainly dr, us-
ed, is iiri-iiinjinij
the chairs. Gene-
vieve is xuitu! oil
her thi;in< .mi ,11-111-
cftnir ilni/Hil with
>'"ffs::, Hw Page
lounging "" the
pliitfurin nt In r /',,/.
Mi:s. HOWARD .............................. GENEVIEVE'S mother.
A PAGE ......................... GENETIKVF.'S small hrolher HAIIRT.
GENERAL WASHINGTON ......................... JOSEPHINE'S brother,
THE MARQUIS DF. LAFAYETTE ..................... JOSEPHINE'S friend.
AN INDIAN GIRL. . . .MRS. HOWARD'S niece, introduced bij MRS. HOWARD,
a surprise to GENEVIEVE.
A PROPHETESS. . .A young lady fnend,aho introduced fy MRS. HOWARD,
a surprise to GKNKVIKVK.
Jfrs. Howard. There, my daughter, I believe everything is
ready. You will remember how to seat your friends. This is
the New England division; this, the Central; this, the Southern.
drill rirre. Yes,
thank you, dearest
of mammas. How
lovely you have been
to get up this parly!
I only h()]ie the girls
will enjoy it as much
as I do already.
[Genevieve runs
In hi r mnther,
nnil tfinnr.1 fur
a r ins iiluwt her
/III-/:' II l,ll t,'ixS,S
In r.
Mrx. lliiirnrd. I
have enjo_yed get-
ting it up for you,
deai-. Now run back
to your throne and
lei me arrange your
dress. I will retire
in order to put the
finishing touches on
the table.
[Ej-it Mrs. Howard.
di in fii re. Mo-
ther's adarling, Hal;
isn't she? Do you
know, you make the
sweetrst little page?
I shall be very severe
with you. I shall
say: "Boy, dost hear
a knock? Hun an
thy life depended
on't." And then you
must be very obedi-
ent and run.
llmri/ I Jut. Geri.
Ihey u ill i inu. won't
tlie\ '' lluw ran they
knock?
Generiere. Foolish
boy! What matters
it? In olden times
they had no bells.
knockers. You
must introduce those
IMDEPENDENCE AXD HER PAGE.
I lint come not by
274
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
their real names, but by the name on the shield. Present them
to me. Say, "Miss Massachusetts, let me present you to the
Spirit of Independence." Say it over now.
Harry. Oh, don't fuss, Gen. I'll do my part all right. Mam-
ma's 'structed me, you know.
Genevieve. Jnstructed, Hal. Well, just say it, please; that's a
good boy. (Ring at bell.) Oh, run, Hal; and now don't forget.
[Harry flies to the door and opens it. Genevieve smooths her
dress mill liin/,-x dignified,
Enter Elinor and Marguerite.
Harry. Hulloa, girls! You've first. Sis, here's Elinor and
Marguerite.
Genevieve (sternly). Boy, are these thy manners?
Iliirrij. Oh, I forgot. Let's see who you are. Misses New
Hampshire and Rhode Island, I present you (with a flourish and
bow) to the Spirit of Independence. Say, Gen, was that right?
Genevieve. Splendid, Hal. (Rises, but stands still.) You must
come to me, of course. I can't leave my throne. Welcome, la-
dies— I mean States. No— Colonies. Take the third and fourth
chairs in the New England Section. You are come to celebrate
Washington's birthday. How nice you look, girls! I'm going
to call you (addressing Rhode Island) Little Rhody after this; the
character fits you so well.
Rhode Island. Yes, I think I am becoming. Who did your
hair, Nellie?
Net* Hampshire. Mother. Who did yours?
Rhode Island. A regular hair-dresser. I don't see but yours
looks just as well, and you didn't pay fifty cents, did you?
[Ring.
Genevieve. Hush, girls. Sit up.
Enter New Jersey and Delaware.
U' 1 1' ri/ (grandly). The two Colonies of New Jersey and Dela-
ware. This is my sister, the Spirit of Independence. Go up to
her and make your prettiest bow. She is the President of the
Convention.
Genevieve. Welcome, ladies.
Harry. They ain't ladies. Gen.
Genevieve. Of course. But don't say ain't, Hal. Welcome,
Colonies. Take the sixth and eighth chairs in the Central Sec-
tion. You are to sit in geographical order.
[The girls greet each other, and New Jersey and Delaware sit
in the chairs indicated.
New Jersey. Are we late, girls? It took so long to do up my
hair, I thought I should never get here in time. I met Isabel
just at the door.
Delaware. Marguerite, you never looked better in your life.
New Hampshire. She's Little Rhody — small but sweet.
[Kisses her.
Delaware. Diamonds are small but precious, my dear. She's
just too cunning for anything. [Ring.
Enter five girls, the entire Southern Section.
Harry. Here's Miss Maryland, and Virginia, and North Caro-
lina, and South Carolina, and Georgia. A whole lot of 'em, Gen.
Go up and bow to Gen. She's the Spirit of Independence.
[The five girls advance and greet Genevieve and the other
Colonies.
Maryland. We are "the solid South." We met at my house
and dressed, and did up each other's hair, and came in one car-
riage.
ffenevieve. Welcome. Southern sisters. You are in lime for
our Convention. Tbo.se are your seats in the Third Section. Sit
in geographical order, please. So. You bore a very important
part in the war, I believe.
All Five Southern Colonies. Indeed we did.
Virginia. Where are the rest? I thought we were late.
[Ring.
North Carolina. There's somebody now.
Enter Florence (New York), Maud (Massachusetts), and Gladys
(Connecticut).
Harry. Ladies — oh, 1 mean girls — no. Colonies — let me present
you to my sister, the Spirit of Independence.
Connecticut. Oh, my, Hill, what a sweet page you make! Aren't
you going to kiss me, dear?
[Catches Harry in her arms. Harry struggles violently to be
free. Genevieve raps her wand and calls.
Genevieve. Order! order! The page is not to be kissed by the
Colonies. Advance, sister Colonies, to our throne, and join the
Convention.
Connecticut (who has set Harry down, and is laughing heartilu).
I beg your pardon, dear. I was overcome by his beauty, and lost
my heart on the spot.
Genevieve. I shall send you a copy of your own Blue Laws to
read. Kissing wasn't allowed in your Colony.
Connecticut. Not even of pretty pages? But those Blue Laws
are a fiction, a pure myth, I do assure you. How de do, girls?
[The new-comers greet tJuise already there, and sit in their re-
spective chairs.
Massachusetts. Who is missing? There's one empty chair.
Genevieve. Pennsylvania hath not yet honored our invitation.
She tarries.
Connect/cut. Oh, Gen, you're immense! Our.' Isn't she royal?
Let me see. Pennsylvania is the Colony in which Philadelphia is
situated. You can't expect her to be up to the times. Always a
trifle behind, is it not?
[All laugh and say " Oh, Gladys.'" Ring.
Geneviete. There she is now.
Enter Pennsylvania, dressed in Quaker costume — gray dress, white
/in in//. 'I'irhief folded across her brm.it. mnt bonnet. Harry stares.
Hiirry. I say. Gen, this one don't belong to the party. She
ain't dressed right. (To Emma.) Say, are you invited here?
~~rell. I {_
parties unless I am invited. I'm a Quaker, because my colony
/' itnxiiii
guess I don't go to
(drawing herself up). Well.
1. I'n
was settled by William Penn. a Quaker, Mr. Hal. Mamma sug-
gested it, and I thought it real nice. Do you care, Gen?
Genevieve. No indeed! That is, I do care, because it was such
a happy idea of your mother's, Emma. It makes a change, and,
as you say, it is so appropriate. Approach, Colony of Pennsyl-
vania. Greet your sisters, and take the vacant chair.
[Pennsylvania shakes hands demurely with the other girls, bows
to Genevieve, and sits down.
Pennsylvania. Am I last? I did not mean to be late.
New York. We were saying that we should expect Philadel-
phia's State to be a bit slow.
Pennsylvania. You sinner! Is it in order, Gen, to shake Flor-
ence for instituting comparisons? Anyhow, my police department
isn't so corrupt as yours.
Genevieve. Girls, your time is a hundred years ago. And you
are not cities, but colonies. I don't know that they had any police
at all in those days. Now the Convention is about to begin.
Hal, you need not stay. You won't be interested in the solid his-
tory that is coming now.
Harry (in a griered tone). Well, I guess! A fellow likes solid
things as well as girls do. I'm going to stay, and I won't disturb
nothing.
Genevieve. Not nothing; anything, Hal. You may stay if you
will sit here at my feet and keep quiet. (Harry takes the position
indicated. Genevieve takes a paper front her pocket and reads.)
This Convention of the thirteen original Colonies is called, fir.-t,
to have a good time; second, for our mutual improvement.
We have just finished our great struggle with the mother-coun-
try. It. is fitting to pause and review briefly the parts you sus-
tained in the war. Don't forget the part which 1 had. If the
spirit of independence had not pervaded the breasts of your sons
and daughters, you would have been contented to live and die
slaves to a monstrous English tyranny! (Applause.) That tea
parly in Boston Harbor would never have been held.
Massachusetts. Don't steal my thunder, please.
Gcnemeve. Hush! Papa wrote this for me. Where would be
the crowds that yearly ascend Bunker Hill Monument?
i 'qnnectieut. Was Bunker Hill Monument built in 1783?
Gcnerit'i-c (ilisrei/ni'iUiig the interruption). Wheie Valley Forge
and the crossing of the Delaware? Yes. Colonies, you owe it all
to me. (Applause. Genevieve bows.) Now, girls, I'm going to
recite an address of welcome that mother wrote for me.
Welcome, sisters bright and young,
Wearing morning's air of strength ;
Trips the measure from my tongue,
Love in all its breadth and length.
Welcome on this happy day
When our greatest chief was born.
I, a child upon the way,
Share his splendid birthday morn.
We will now hear from Massachusetts.
Rhode Island. Why don't you begin with Maine?
Massachusetts (ruinij). Because I include Maine. The charter
granted to Massachusetts Bay Colony by William and Mary in-
cluded Maine and Nova Scotia. Not until 1820 was Maine ad-
mitted as a separate State.
Rhode Island. Well, that's news to me.
Massachusetts. I confess tliat it was to me till within one week.
Gen, you want us to make a short story, don't you?
Geneviete. Yes, very short, and not too dry. We are supposed
to know about the details.
Massachusetts. Well, the Stamp Act roused my people. It was
the match which lighted the fire of a great conflagration.
Gladys. Hear! hear!
Massachusetts. Then came the tea party, the battles of Lexington.
Concord, and Bunker Hill. I wish I had time to read you " Paul
Revere's Ride." The rough troops which my farmers provided
shut up the British soldiers in Boston. Washington came upon
the scene, and forced the British to evacuate. They went away
in their ships one night. After this I sent men and money to the
war which went on in other Colonies. Samuel Adams and John
Hancock were among my great men. I say, Gen, was that brief
enough?
Genevieve. Almost too brief, Maud. But it's a good example
to set the others. (All the girls applaud.) New Hampshire is next
in order, and she will tell her part in the war.
FEBRUARY 19, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
275
New Hampshire. I can't find that I had much of any part.
There were General Stark, and my 400 militia, nncl the Green
Mountain boys who defeated a large army under Colonel Baum,
sent by Burgoyne. They lost 800 men, we 54. It was my
hero Stark who said before the battle, "There they are, boys;
we must beat them to-day, or this night Molly Stark's a widow."
Genevieve. Nothing to be modest about in that. Do you re-
member when Vermont was separated from New York?
New Hampshire. In 1701.
Harry. She's good on dates.
[Harry is now discvvcml />>/ >' mii'l'ling sound t<> be ml ing pea-
nuts.
Genevieve. Boy, that is not in order. Do you think Daniel
Webster ate peanuts cm the floor of the Continental Congress?
Hal. if you're tired, don't stay, dear.
Harry. All right, I won't eat no more peanuts. But, Sis, Dan-
iel Webster wasn't a member of the Continental O/ni/n. •<.•<.
Genevieve. I meant Thomas Jefferson. {Admiringly.) What a
lot of history you do know, Hal!
Harry. You bet!
Genevieve. I shall next ask Connecticut to speak.
Connecticut. Do you girls know why our nation is called Bro-
ther Jonathan? Well, I furnished that nickname. Jonathan
Trumbull was my sturdy Governor at. the opening of the war,
and Washington loved him so much he called him Brother Jona-
than. So his name was bequeathed to the country. I think that's
glory enough for me. (Sits, but rises again.) Oh no, I forgot
Nathan Hale, the spy, whose statue has lately been set up in New-
York. His home was in Connecticut. I will just say that in
proportion to my population and means I furnished more for the
•war than any other Colony
Genevieve. Do you remember what Nathan Hale said on his
way to his execution?
Harry (raising his hand). Oh, let me tell that. He said, " My
•only regret is that I have but one life to give for my country."
Geneviere. Right. Now, Little Rhody, what have you lo say?
Rhode Maud. What I am going lo say is in poetry. [Recites.
A pearl upon my bosom old Newport toun I wear,
You have heard the merry music of the billows breaking there.
Once the red-coats danced and flirted with Tories sweet and fair,
And for three whole years the patriots shunned Newport iu despair.
And just beyond my coast-line were great battles on the sea.
And the lightning and the thunder burst fouglit the foernen of tlie
free.
And you know that in the honor roll of great men gone is seen,
.Starred there by smali Rhode Island, the name of General Greene.
[.-IK appluiiil.
Genevieve. That's lovely, Marguerite. Now we will hear from
the Middle Section, and first, of course, from New York.
-New York. Well, I bore a very important part of t he war. owing
to my position and size. My forts were almost the key to the coun-
try. Both armies hovered over the Hudson River, first oil one
side, then on the other. When the news of the Declaration of In-
dependence was received, my people pulled down the leaden sta-
tue of George III. iu the Battery (New York city), and melted it
into bullets. The Mohawk Valley was now for the first time
cleared of Indians by General Sullivan and 3000 men This was
a good thing for New York and everybody else, for the Indians
who had always lived there were the Six Nations, the bravest
and most cruel of them all. In August, 1787, at Fort Stanwix
{now Rome, New York), the first American flag was raised. It
has been adopted by Congress. It was made of alternate stripes
of a red flannel petticoat and a white shirt, the field being cut
out of an old blue overcoat.
Harry. Jolly! I wish I could see it.
Geneviere. Girls, you are doing splendidly. You enter right
into the spirit of it.
Pennsylvania. It's simply fun. We learn so much!
Genevieve. It's your turn now, New Jersey.
New Jersey. I suffered more than any other Colony. Washing-
ton's headquarters were part of the time in Morrislown, and he
and his troops were all over that part of the Colony You can en-
ter scarcely a farm-house that does not proudly show its chair in
which Washington sat, or its table from which he ate, or its well
from which he drank. I think I may truly s;iy the cause of the
colonies could never have been won without me.
Harry. Modest!
Genevieve. That's all right. We want facts. We will now
liear from our sister Delaware.
Delaware. Girls, I have not much of a Revolutionary history.
I was one of the smaller Colonies, and was removed from the im-
mediate seat of war. But I did my part in money and troops.
Genevieve. You are one of the loyal thirteen, Isabel, and your
star on the flag is as big as New York's. Now, Sister Pennsyl-
vania, what is your record ?
Pennsylvania. A long and glorious one. But in the telling I
will make it short. The Continental Congress met in my Colony.
I own the Liberty Bell which proclaimed to the country the Dee
laration of Independence. May I tell you about that "in a little
poem of my own ?
A silent bell in an idle tower,
Slack and slender the tenuous rope,
And drooping beside it a graybeard pale,
With eyes that had lost the look of hope.
Down below, in the thronging streets,
Women and children and grave-faced men,
Surging like waves, the waiting crowds,
And every moment as long as ten.
For the silent bell in the idle tower
Hay break into peals so glad and free ;
Their sound shall scatter the spells of greed,
And carry brave tidings across the sea.
Out from the throng a blue-eyed boy
Rushes, flushes, waving his hand.
"Ring! ring !" he cries. And the old man hears,
And the great bell peals o'er the grateful hind.
(Applause.) Benjamin Franklin was my honored son. Valley
Forge, Germantown, Brandy wine, Wyoming Valley, could all tell
an exciting tale, some of victory, all of honor, if 1 had time.
[Applause.
New York. Good for the Quaker State!
Genevieve. Maryland, my dear, let us hear from you.
Maryland. Baltimore, as you know, was the scene of a great
ovation to Washington when he was on his march south to en-
trap Cornwallis. The city held a banquet in his honor, and in
every possible way showed her sympathy and desire to help the
national cause. In 1790 I ceded sixty square miles of my terri-
tory for a national capital, the present District of Columbia. It
was to the Colonial Congress in Annapolis, in 1783, that Wash-
ington resigned his commission as Commander-in-chief.
And now, Virginia.
Virginia. I had many splendid Generals, among them Richard
Henry Lee and Daniel Morgan. The closing scenes of the war
took place on my ground. Yorktowu is where Cornwallis stir
rendered to Washington. Since Washington is my son, I thought
you would rather see him in person to-day than hear about him.
So I invited him to come and bring his friend, the Marquis de-
Lafayette.
Enter George Washington and Lafayette, alth-ul in Continental
costumes. They bow to the Spirit of Independence, wf.o ji/nin/if
shows her pleased surprise She and all the Colonies rix, ,nnl hmr,
then resume their seats.
Virginia. Behold the Father of his Country whose birthday we
are celebrating! A modest but brave man. And this his friend
is one of the most polished gentlemen and brave soldiers of his
day.
Generiere. You arc most, welcome, sirs. We are honored. Jo
sephine, what a lovely idea!
Wiixliiiii/tiin. I am pleased to attend this Convention. Nobody
was more surprised than I when the nation called me to be its
chief commander. Once having accepted the trust, I did every-
thing in my power towards success Our troops were often poor-
ly clad and ill provisioned. I suffered from hunger and cold with
my men. But I always looked straight ahead, sure of final vic-
tory. The people were behind me, and I never gave up hope.
My friend here was of immense service. I shall never forget it
of him. [Bom to Lafayette.
Lafayette How could I see this gallant struggle without com-
ing to your aid? I have a soldier's love for a fight. Besides,
England was our enemy, and we were glad to see her worsted.
Genevieve. Had we known, sirs, that we were to be favored
with your company, we would have provided chairs for your
worships. As it is, will you stand near our throne while we'pro-
ceed with the important matters of the Convention?
Harry. You can sit down with me if you want to
[The tiro Generals seat themselves an the plat fo-rm.
Genevieve. We have yet to hear from the remaining Southern
Colonies.
Georgia. Oli ! hearts were strong in the strife with wrong
In those simple days gone by,
When, our troth-plight given, we challenged Heaven
To see how the brave eould die.
Where the spice winds blow o'er the waving snow of the cotton-field
in bloom,
Where the mocking-bird is at daydawn heard, where the sudden
thunders gloom,
Where the bright waves plash, and the torrents dash, and the solemn
pine-trees stand
Like sentries tall in a sombre wall — there is our Southern land.
South Carolina. The campaigns of the South were hotly con-
tested. Savannah and Augusta were first captured by the Brit-
ish. then Charleston, till Georgia and myself were under British
control. But we were hard to hold. Suinter, Marion, and other
276
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
'ORDER! ORDER! THE PAGE IS NOT TO BE KISSED BF THE COLONIES.'
Southern leaders made their headquarters in the swamps, and sal-
lying forth when least expected, harassed and bothered the British
troops like swarms of hornets. Marion was like a meteor iu the
swiftness and daring of his raids. Cornwallis feared him above
all others. Bessie, you tell the story of Marion as a host that we
were reading together.
North Carolina. A British officer having occasion to arrange
some matters of business with Marion, was invited by him to
dinner. He had been charmed by the grace and dignity of his
host already, and he gladly accepted the invitation. The meal
consisted only of baked sweet-potatoes served on bark. No apol-
ogy was made, but the guest could not help exclaiming, "Surely,
General, this is not your ordinary fare?" " Indeed it is," replied
Marion; "but having to-day the honor of your company, we are
so happy as to have more than our usual allowance." The officer
returned to Charleston and resigned his commission, saying that
America could never be conquered while served by such men.
South Carolina. Our women were brave. When British offi-
cers had taken possession of one woman's house, she brought
with her own hands a bow and arrows to the American officer,
and bade him send (ire-brands by shooting the arrows on the
wooden roof. She stood by watching her home burn till the
British were forced to surrender themselves prisoners.
Geneyieve. Well, girls, aren't you glad you had such a glorious
record? For my pan —
Indian Girl. She is slowly and mournfully chanting to
htrsi If.
INDIAN GIRL'S COMPLAINT.
I lament, I lament, that my people no more
Rule forest and mountain from East unto West;
Like the chaff that is winnowed and swept from the floor,
Have faded and vanished our brave and our best.
No longer our hunting-grounds ring to the sliout
Of the young men returning full-lmiidcd and gay!
Our chiefs on the war-path no longer go out,
And cold is the fire in wigwams to-day.
I lament, I lament, that the star of my race
Has sunk in deep waters; no more shall it rise.
Iu shame and ill sorrow I'm hiding my face,
Alas ! and alas ! for our desolate skies.
[Seats herself on the floor.
Rhode Isliinit (rn nninr/ to her and
Tier hand). Never mind, you poor thing. We
are all dreadfully sorry that we had to take
j'our lands. But we had to, you know. We
will take care of you. and send you missiona-
ries, and food, and blankets.
| s nix In /'self beside Indian Girl.
Oenevieve. Girls, this is another genuine
surprise. Positively, I knew nothing about
it. But I think it is" beautiful.
All. Beautiful.
Eiiti-r the Prophetess. She comes in lumini/
<ni n cin/e. Slowly nil ninci ni/, x/u i-nids the
JIII/HIX of each girl's hands. While (loin;/ .»<>
she sometimes nhaki-x her head, at utln r times
i/iHl.t it iti! SHI ilt, *. She also reads Geuevieve's
lnuiilx, and lastly those of the two Generals
nut/ Harry. Harry is half nffniil of her,
mid shrinks innii/, hut nt I iujtli fmixi nit.
to have his hand examined. Then the Pro-
phetess irarcx her enne. faces the audience,
and says (her voice trembling etnd crackling
as if with mje) :
To-day thirteen, 'tis true, and weak and small,
But forty-four, a stalwart tioop to-morrow !
With kings and chieftains at your doors to call,
And fain your wealtli and skill and hope to
borrow.
I see how one by one the tongues of men
Are merged in that grand voice that yet will
reach
To every coast, till all the world shall ken
The golden strength of our dear English
speech.
I see the white church spire on every hill,
The school-house nestling in each low green
valley.
And, growing up, serene in might and will,
A throng of men at freedom's word to rally.
I see a sudden wave of battle break
Frowning and dark across the peaceful l;nid!
Then wrong goes down ! Then righteous forces
make
Stronger the nation, joining hand in hand.
Harry. Well, I never!
Kntir Mrs. Howard.
Mrs. H'nr, !,•<!. I tliiuk it is about lime for this Convention to
adjourn to the dining-room. Will the Spirit of Independence
invite these distinguished gentlemen, and all the others, to par-
lake of refreshments?
l.ii-niticrc. Oh, mamma, if we were to do this over again, we
could almost make a little play of it. Couldn't we, girls?
Oirls. Indeed we could.
Genn-ii r, . We invite all present to partake of our simple fare.
Harry. Cannot I speak my piece, Qenevieve?
Genenne. Oh, yes, I forgot. The Page will close these exer-
cises by saying an ode to the flag. And after each verse we
will all sing the chorus, " Three Cheers for the Red, White,
and Blue!" And then we will have a feast in the dining-roorn.
Harry. Hail, flag of our Union,
Dear flag of the free !
In every heart-throb we're
Devoted to thee.
Let foemen assail tliee,
We'll rush to deiVnd,
For the banner of freedom
Is every man's friend.
CHORDS.
Dear flag of our Union,
Thy stars are alight
With the glory and hope
Of the dawn after night.
A torch in the darkness,
Outstreaming and free;
All nations and pjoples
Are turning to thee.
CHORUS.
CURTAIN FALLS.
(While it is falling. Virginia sni/a.)
Girls, the whole thing has been simply delicious.
A/1. Simply delicious.
THE END.
FEBRUARY 19, 1S95.
HARPEB'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
277
THE OVEN.
A GIRL'S COOKING-SCHOOL WITHOUT A
FIRE.
MANY a girl who goes once a week to her cooking-
class and stands over a hot fire for two or three
hours trying to make the bread, the chops, the croquettes,
and all the other parts of the "lunch" just as the teach-
er has bidden, would be
very much surprised if she
went into a certain cook-
ing-school in London.
There they cook lunches
and dinners and break-
fasts and suppers, and
nowhere is there to be
seen a sign of stove, range,
coal, wood, or fire. In
fact, the only things in the
room beyond the ordinary
number of chairs and ta-
bles are two queer-looking
burglar - proof safes. If
you happened in there
while cooking was going on you would see the teach-
er standing by the ordinary kitchen table, rolling some
dough, perhaps, and ranged along the edge of that same
table there might be, first, a copper or steel platform
with dishes standing on it, then a little tiny griller, next
a teakettle on a little copper stand. Beside this a sauce-
pan, and then a frying-pan. While the teacher calmly
rolls out the dough, the griller holds up a chop that is
smoking away and simmering merrily. In the frying-
pan potatoes are frying. In the saucepan something is
stewing at a great rate. Steam is coming out of
the kettle, and you, in amazement, walking up to the
platform holding the plates, snatch your fingers away
quickly after touching it to see what is doing all this,
and in a moment there is a little white swelling on that
finger which did the touching. And all this without
fire, without anything but some carefully protected wires
that are hitched to the legs of the griller, the handle of
the frying-pan, and different parts of all the other things.
Of course it is simple enough. There are half a do/t-n
electric lights in each room in the house, and this in-
genious teacher has attached wires to the electric main
which furnishes the electric lights. Each set of wires
thus attached is fastened to one of the cooking utensils
or to the little stand upon which it rests, and the pan or
griller or stand is thus heated just as the tiny platinum
wire loop inside the electric-light burner is. Only, as the
griller is much larger than the platinum wire, and iron
or copper is harder to heat than platinum, the griller
•does not get white-hot, or even red-hot, but just hot— hot
enough to raise the blister just mentioned on your finger.
Up out of the floor come the wires from the electric
main, and then each little cooking apparatus has its own
particular set of wires, and there are six little knobs for
•connecting and breaking the circuit for each set, placed
just under the top of the table. The cleanliness, the sim-
plicity, and the convenience of the whole thing are re-
markable, and if you really should happen to belong to
some cooking-school here in America, and go to London
and see this school, you would be thunder-struck, and
made quite unfit to come back to the hot range and the
draughts and the coal and wood and the lighting of fires.
But this is only half of the strange things that happen
in this most modern of cooking-schools.
The two burglar-proof safes that were the only things
seen in the— it would hardly do to call it " kitchen "-
•cooking-room when you entered turn out to be nothing
more than electric ovens. They are so constructed that
the half-dozen shelves inside them which are attached to
wires, just as the utensils on the table are, can be heated
to any degree of heat without altering the temperature of
the safe or oven itself. Here you can set plates of bread
or roasts, or anything that can be cooked or warmed in an
oven. Then closing the door, you turn on a certain
amount of electric current through the wires that are
attached to shelf No. 1, and the plates are warmed. To
shelf No. 2 the wires carry more heat, and something is
roasted in no time, and so on down through the half-
dozen shelves— all done by the turning of little knobs, in-
stead of carrying coal, and putting paper and wood
underneath it, and lighting matches, burning your fin-
gers, and blowing half your lungs away.
Imagine what fun and how easy such a class-room
would be ! And it is not so impossible as it seems, for
should the building in which your cooking-class meets be
lighted by electricity, it is comparatively inexpensive, real-
ly cheaper in the end, tohave your "fire" furnished in this
way. There would be nothing of the disagreeable part
of the cooking, and only the interesting part. Of course
there would be chances for making mistakes, as there
probably will be in everything we do, but the mistakes
in this case would be that you might turn on the wrong
knob and cook the plates, and only warm the raw beef.
Then, too, there would have to be a good deal of care
given to the wires, because if you happen to get the cir-
cuit through your body instead of through one of the
pans, that would "cook your goose" for all time. The
danger of this, however, is very slight, because the wires
are carefully covered, and they are kept out of the way
entirely, except just where they have to be attached to the
pans and stands.
What a fine time the cooks will have when the day of
these strange stoves comes! No getting up early to get
the fire started; no coal to carry; nothing to do but turn
a knob, and everything for breakfast begins to sizzle.
And we might go on imagining all day, and think of our
mother's afternoon tea-tables with a tiny little knob un-
derneath, which only has to be turned half round to set
the teakettle singing, and then another knob on the wall,
and the room is heated; and still another attached to the
inside wall of the carriage, and the carriage is lighted
and warmed at once from a little storage-battery under-
neath, and — But we might go on forever, and grow wild
in our imagination, and still perhaps not get so far be-
yond possibility either.
THE "KITCHEN RANGE."
278
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"THE 'SCUTNEY MAIL."
THE STORY OF A YOUNG PEOPLE'S NEWSPAPER
VENTURE.
BY SOPHIE SWETT.
t £17.
V CROSS the fields was the nearest way from the poor-
house lane to Farmer Bigsby's old granary, and
across the fields they trooped. Polly leaving her bicycle
beside the stone wall, which she climbed as nimbly as the
bo\'s — more nimbly, indeed, than Jim, who was pale and
trembling.
"He'll be burnt up, Sarah Loud, and all the others!"
he gasped, as Polly tried to encourage him by hopeful
prophecies.
"Is Sarah Lond a hey asked Polly, feeling that the
emergency justified a little indulgence of her curi-
osity.
"I named him after somebody that I used to know,''
said Jim. evasively — "somebody who liked animals, just
as I do. Do you suppose Macurdy has let them out?" he
added, his voice strained and sharp with anxiety. "Ma-
curdv says he sleeps witli one eye open. I've tried it.
and I can't do it, but you know how very smart Ma-
curdy is."
" It's a good thing that the granary is away off by it-
self," said Bing, as Jim and Polly overtook him. " Maybe
it wasn't Derrick that did it. Anyhow, Polly, you needn't
go to hollering like a girl until we see whether we can't
put the fire out. The brook is right near there, and it's
lucky it isn't frozen."
It had not needed Bing's warning to make Polly wish
that they could extinguish the fire without an alarm.
Perhaps one ought not to wish that Derrick should not
be arrested, but if he were, Bing's share in the adventures
of the night would be sure to come out, and it might be
difficult to convince people that he was not concerned in
the setting of the fire.
The smoke was thicker now. but there was less flame.
The fields were miry, and Polly's boots were so heavy
with mud that she could no longer run. Bing began to
hang back a little, as if he were not altogether inclined
to "grace battle's brunt," but Jim's long legs went steadily
on, and when Polly was near enough to him she could
hear that he was muttering anxiously about " Sarah
Lond."
As Jim approached the granary, with Polly close be-
hind, and Bing's small hesitating figure bringing up the
rear, a tall figure stepped sturdily out from the smoke.
"You needn't be scared, nor make a fuss; I'm here."
said Macurdy Green.
''They're all safe — Sarah Lond and all?'' demanded
Jim, breathlessly.
" Yes, all are safe. I was afraid they'd smother, but
there's no danger now. He — that rascal of a Derrick
Croome" — it almost seemed as if sparks flew out of Ma-
curdy's gray eyes — " pried open the door after he had set
the fire; perhaps he wanted to let 'em out; I don't know
as he is bad enough to burn live things up; but I think
he wanted to steal some of 'em; and Sarah Lond bit him.
He hollered, and I heard him. I sleep in the woodshed
chamber, and I've been sleeping with one eye open lately
— kind of expecting there was mischief brewing."
" You treated us pretty mean, but I wouldn't set things
afire, "said Bing, digging in the ground with his heel.
" Derrick Croome's a coward, anyway."
"You just leave him to Sarah Lond!" said Macurdy.
with undisguised satisfaction. "He can bite."
Jim pushed open the granary door and entered. Queer
chattering and scolding noises came from inside.
"I knew there were live things in there, squirrels and
things; all the fellows do: but I wisht I knew who Sarah
Lond is, "said Bing.
"Ain't you ever going with Derrick Croome again —
'slong's you live?" demanded Macurdy, solemnly.
"Honest and true, black and blue!" responded little
Bing, with equal solemnity.
"Well, Sarah Lond is something that you don't very
often see tamed. Jim can tame wild things. I suppose
it's because he likes 'em so. Sarah Lond is in a big cage,
and he likes it pretty well, anyhow, and he knows
Jim and me, and wouldn't bite us. And he's a weasel.
Some day if you come over, you and your sister — we
don't often show him to girls, but — but — you and she can
see him."
Polly was not very enthusiastic about the weasel, but
she appreciated Macurdy's stammeringly conveyed com-
pliment, and gravely accepted the invitation.
" I wish you would go home now, without making a
bit of noise," said Macurdy, frankly. " The fire's all out,
and I don't want her to get wind of it," with a significant
nod towards the house. " She won't be likely to see any
signs of it, because she's lame, and don't get 'round much,
but if she should hear of it she'd- be awful apt to put her
foot down."
' ' Then you won't have Derrick Croome arrested ?" asked
Polly, eagerly.
"I'll just leave him to Sarah Lond!" said Macurdy,
confidently.
Bing wondered what lie would think was bad enough
for him. if he knew of the confusion and desolation in
the Mail office, and of the hand-cart with its load that
was standing beside the stone wall in the poor-house lane.
And he hurried back across the field as fast as Polly
herself — Polly, who had been seized with a sudden fear
lest Derrick Croome should come upon the hand-cart, and,
with anger freshly aroused by Sarah Lond's bite, wreak
his vengeance upon it.
The cart was there with its contents safe, and Bing
pushed it homeward with might and main. Jim had
offered to go with them to help, but he was evidently so
tired, and so anxious about his pets in the granary, that
Polly positively declined his aid, asking only that he
should take care of her bicycle.
There had been a heavy strain both on Polly's nerves
and muscles, but she had heard Bing's promise to Ma-
curdy Green — and an excellent thing about Bing was
that he kept his promises — and that lightened the load.
They could not bring order out of the confusion in the
composing-room of the Mail, but they restored the press
and the type, and Polly drew a long breath of relief as
Bing softly locked the door behind them. She had care-
fully avoided reproaching Bing — since his promise — but
she turned upon him now with a sudden question,
" Where did you get that key, Bing-?"
Bing hung his cherubic head.
" I heard Luella tell you that she was going to leave
it under the mat so you could go in and look at the
proofs of 'The Magic Squash Seed,'" lie said.
Polly lay awake thinking how hard it was to be a
boy's sister, but Bing — Bing, with all his misdeeds upon
his head, slept "as they sleep who do not wake to care."
After all, The * Scutney Mail made its appearance that
week, but it was not until Saturday night — instead of
Thursday, its regular date — and Macurdy and Bing Raw-
son — Bing who had faced the music manfully, and owned
up to his share in the midnight raid, and was now a rec-
ognized all}- and aid of the paper, explaining that "He
wasn't 'xactly on the staff, but —
Sarah Lond's punishment of Derrick Croome had been,
as Macurdy had prophesied, quite severe enough. He
was under the doctor's care, with his hand and arm badly
swollen, and with symptoms of blood-poisoning. The
FEBRUARY 19, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
279
identity of Sarah Lond was no longer a mystery, and
all the boys in 'Scutney were deeply interested in (lit?
tame weasel, but the " piece " about him, which Macurdy's
journalistic heart yearned for just now, as timely and
striking, was hanging fire; for the excitement and ex-
posure of that adventurous night had been more than Jim
could bear, and he was now ill at the poor-house.
Macurdy's hands were full, and Tom's mumps was
prolonged, and that paper could not have come out if
Farmer Bigsby had not, for once, put his foot down and
declared that, in spite of the claims of churning and bak-
ing, Macurdy should have his Saturday holiday for his
own devices. The truth was that Farmer Bigsby was
growing proud of Macurdy, and spoke of the Mail as
"our boy's paper." The paper sold in Hebron and at
the Four Corners, and people were inclined to take it
much more seriously than at first ; nevertheless, the
money did not come in very fast, and Tom was growing
rather tired of the work, and very tired of hearing it
called Macurdy's paper.
" It's about time there was a piece in that paper about
me, that founded it," said Tom to himself, discontentedly.
In the spelling-class, one day, a week or two after the
midnight raid, Tom handed a letter, behind his back, to
Macurdy. They were "toeing the mark," in the prim-
itive fashion that prevailed in 'Scutney, and the teacher's
eye was only momentarily absent from them, but Tom
had happened to think of that letter, and wanted Macurdy
to see it before he forgot it again — a fellow had so many
things on his mind, now that spring was coming, and
there were more ball games, and Lon Bailey, of Hebron,
had threatened to thrash him for trying to make out, in
the account in the Mail, that the 'Scutneys hadn't a fair
show in the last game.
Macurdy took the letter, and found a chance to take a
peep at it. It was from Tom's Uncle Rufe, out in Texas,
and it said that a family who lived near him had been
much interested in the story of the Queen of Sheba, be-
cause a young son, who was dead, had made a pet of a
white turkey in the same way, and had called her the
Queen of Sheba. The family seemed to think it a re-
markable coincidence, and wished to know more about
the boy who had written the article — especially as it was
signed "Jim," and their boy who had died had been
called Jiinmie. Macurdy didn't think the letter amount-
ed to much; he didn't see why another boy might not
have called a turkey the Queen of Sheba, since it was a
Bible name, with which every one was acquainted. And
if it was a queer coincidence, it didn't strike his practical
mind as being of much consequence.
Tom forgot it, too ; Uncle Rufe had expressed very
complimentary opinions of the paper, and Tom meant to
suggest in his answer that a little more capital could be
used to advantage in the development of the paper. Per-
haps Uncle Rufe would send him another twenty-five
dollars. He covered all four sides of his note-paper with
what he considered delicate hints to that effect, and neg-
lected to say who Jim was and how he had come to
'Scutney.
Derrick Croome had been sent away to school by his
father as soon as he had recovered from the effects of
Sarah Lond's bite, and his vicious dog had been sent off
to a farm to be trained into a respectable member of so-
ciety— this latter departure being a blessing to the com-
munity, for which it gave due credit to the boys' paper.
So the boys' world wagged with mingled joys and
troubles and plans for bettering things, like the olde^
people's; but Macurdy's troubles were just now so heavy
that he had no heart for his joys. Mr. Bigsby had put
his foot down for once, and Macurdy had used his Satur-
day holiday from school, usually a very busy day for
''chores'' and the house-work that he hated, and had
been able to bring out the Mail in spite of the disaster
that had threatened to overthrow it; but after this tem-
porary overthrow of Mrs. Bigsby's authority, she had re-
asserted herself vigorously. She was very indignant that
"a wild beast" should be kept on their own premises,
which had brought her nephew, Derrick Croome, "to
death's door," and nothing would appease her wrath ex
cept Farmer Bigby's promise that just as soon as it was so
warm that the tamed creatures would not suffer by being
turned loose into the woods and fields, the boys should be
made to take, them out of the granary.
There would be no reprieve from that sentence, Ma-
curdy knew, and to lose his pets — Sarah Lond, the re-
markable weasel; his white mice, which Macurdy had
helped him to buy, and which he had brought home from
the Four Corners on that memorable day when The
'Scnfiiey Mail was first projected; his gray squirrels, and
chipmunks, and rabbits — would break Jim's heart.
He would not be allowed to keep them at the poor-
house; in fact, the question of sending Jim to the State
poor -farm was being agitated again. He was ill and
needed constant care, and the poorrnistress, who was not
unkind, but was overburdened with work and care, com-
plained of having a charge that did not rightfully belong
to the town.
Jim would die if he should lose his pets and be sent
away from the only place he knew as home, and from him
(Macurdy) to whom his heart clung as to his only friend.
In some way Macurdy felt he must prevent these trials
from coming upon Jim. He was strong and Jim was
weak, so he must take care of him : but how?
Farmer Bigsby gave him his board and clothing for his
work, and he had very little time or opportunity to earn
anything more. He feared he should even be obliged to
give up the paper now that the spring work of the farm
was coming on. Farmer Bigsby had told him so only
the other day.
"Ploughin' and plantin' ain't a-goin' to hitch horses
with runnin'a newspaper, Macurdy," he had said, shaking
his head seriously. "You've been smart about that pa-
per. I've counted on seein' it jest about as much as I have
the Cultivator, but it's nothin' but boys' play, after all,
and this is a world of solemn realities."
The "solemn realities "sounded so depressing that even
Macurdy's stout heart sank for a moment. To drudge
through every hour of daylight, with no chance to go to
school, no hope of bettering one's fortunes, was, for an
ambitious boy like Macurdy, a "solemn reality '' indeed,
and now this necessity, or, what he felt to be a necessity,
of caring for Jim had come upon him.
Macurdy was going homeward on the last day of school,
with his books strapped upon his shoulder to allow him
to ease his mind a little by whittling, and with these
heavy thoughts oppressing him. He had for once got
past the point where whistling was possible — he had tried
it, and a lump in his throat had stopped him — when sud-
denly he remembered a saying of old Uncle Sol Rams-
dell's, "There never was a scrape without a way out of
it."
"That's true; there always is something that a fellow
can do!" said Macurdy to himself. "Sometimes, maybe,
it's only to grin and bear it; but that's better than to give
up and make a girl of himself." And Macurdy resolutely
swallowed the lump in his throat.
If only Jim were provided for! Suddenly Macurdy
remembered the people away off in Texas who had wished
to know who the boy was who had written about the
Queen of Sheba.
"He might be so like their boy who died that they'd
want to adopt him, or something," said Macurdy to him-
self, and straightway resolved that he would ask Tom,
that very night, to write to his uncle Rufe, and tell him
all about Jim.
The sketch of Sarah Lond was finished, and would ap-
280
HARPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
'IF YOU ARE AS SMART AS I THINK YOU ARE, IT'S A CHANCE FOR YOU
pear in this week's paper, and that might still further
arouse the interest of those Texas people who had lost
their sou. Macurdy had helped Jim to write it, and it
was, as Macurdy with candid pride declared, " a pretty
fair article." Those girls, the literary editor, and her
friend Polly Raw son, had " tinkered " it a little; they had
a knack at straightening a sentence out, and turning it
round a little so that a fellow really said what he wanted
to better than he knew how to himself; and they did it
without making a fellow feel small, either. Macurdy
thought that Polly Rawsou had exercised a good influence
over that Luella. who had, as Tom said, been a little
'' topping" in the beginning; and he had a much higher
opinion of " women in journalism " than when he had
begun to edit The ' Sfittiiey Mail.
At the thought of the paper Macurdy felt a fresh pang.
He felt as if he could not give it up. He should be too
tired to work nights, even if Mr. Bigsby would allow him
to, but he meant to try to get some one — perhaps Polly
Bawson, with little Ring to help set type — to do his share
of the work until the summer work was done, and he
might have a little leisure again.
He hoped that — with all his other troubles — a rumor
that had reached him was not true; a rumor that at last
a weekly paper was to be published in 'Scutney. a real
grown-up paper which would cast the Mail entirely into
the shade.
It happened — rather queerly, as things often do happen
in this world — that just as he was thinking of this, a
stranger in "Scutney, a brisk and wide -awake -looking
man, stopped as they met very near Farmer Bigsby's
pasture bars, and with a somewhat quizzical and amused
expression — which Macurdy didn't altogether like — asked
him if he had the honor of addressing Macurdy Green.
Macurdy responded, in a dignified
manner, that Macurdy Green was his
name.
" Editor of The 'Scutney Mail r con-
tinued the stranger, subduing his quiz-
zical air to one of respect.
" I'm one of the editors." said Macur-
dy, with modest pride. He was sud-
denly conscious of his old patched jack-
et, which Mrs. Bigsby had made him
wear to school, and of Mr. Bigsby's broad-
cloth Sunday trousers — of ten years'
standing — which had just fallen to his
share ; of his great clodhopper shoes,
and hat with a dilapidated brim ; and
he held his head the higher because he
had been ashamed of them.
" I'm going to start a paper here — at
least I'm one of a company that's going
to, and I'm to be the managing editor, ''
continued the man. "I think there's a
good chance for a live newspaper here
— queer that there's never been one."
"There's the Mail, you know," said
Macurdy, with dignity.
"Oh yes!" The stranger instantly
suppressed the slightest of smiles, and
spoke very respectfully. "You boys
have done well with that little paper.
It shows a good deal of cleverness. I've
been staying over at Hebron, and I hap-
pened to see two or three copies of it.
My paper is going to be started next
month ; we've hired Croome's block on
the main street. Now I'm looking for
a boy. He'll have to sweep and dust
and do the drudgery, but — he'll have
a chance to work up. And I want a
boy who knows the locality and can
pick up bits of local news, as you have in your paper.
Yrou see, we shall all be strangers in 'Scutney. I've been
inquiring about you, and I think you're just the fellow I
want. You won't get much at first, but it will be enough
to board and clothe you — decently" (with a glance at
Macurdy's peculiar toilet). "And if you are as smart as
I think you are, it's a chance for you."
A chance for him! Macurdy thrilled to his finger-tips;
the blood rushed to his face and then away again, leaving
it pale under the great yellow freckles. It was a way out
of his hopeless drudgery; with enough to board and
clothe him he could manage to take care of Jim.
Then came a tug at his heart, the thought of the little
'Si-titupy Mail, the paper that he had meant should grow
up with him ; but it was Tom's paper; Tom reminded him
of it, cuttingly, very often.
But the wood that he was whittling fell from his
hands, and they dropped dejectedly by his side. Then
lie straightened himself up and set his dilapidated old
hat squarely on his head.
"I'm reg'larly engaged on the Mail,'' he said. "It
wouldn't be fair to Tom."
The man threw back his head and laughed. "You
take that paper very seriously," he said. "You ought to
realize that it's only boys' play."
"Tom won't give it up — Tom Pickering, who owns it.
He has asked his uncle for money to put it on a firmer
liuancial basis," said Macurdy, sturdily.
"Well, well, think it over! I dare say I can find a
boy if you don't want the job," said the man, a little im-
patiently, as he started to go.
"I'd like the job — I'd like it well; but I've got to do
the fair thing," said Macurdy.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
CHAPTER XXXI.
TRYING TO SAVE A LIFE.
WHEN the two cadets were confined to the steer-
age they looked at one another seriously.
" What do you suppose they'll do to us, Hal .'"
" I'm sure I don't know," he replied. "If the charge
was nothing more than overstaying our leave, I think we
might get off easily."
" Well, that's all Mr. Crane mentioned."
"I know; but you may be sure that the Brazilian Cap-
tain will make a formal complaint against us for helping
Robert Lock wood to escape."
"But didn't Commander Brownson know we were go-
ing to help Captain Lockwood get his son?"
"Of course; I told him our whole plan. But then, you
see, he had only to shut his eyes to our errand as long as
the insurgents didn't catch us. Now the thing will be
brought to his notice officially, and he'll be forced to take
some action."
" All the same," said George, " he can't be very hard
on us in the circumstances."
"But Mr. Crane seemed to be very angry with us for
being aboard the Aqiiidaban."
"Well, we can explain that."
"All the same, I wish this thing- hadn't happened."
" Me, too," said George, ungrammatically.
It was not more than two hours afterward that Cap-
tain Lockwood arrived alongside the Detroit.
"I should like to see Cadets King and Briscomb," he
said to the officer of the deck.
" Sorry, Captain, but they're both under arrest."
"Arrest! What for?"
"Overstaying their leave, and visiting the Aquitl-
aban."
" Why, they couldn't help visiting her; and as for
overstaying their leave, if they did, it was the Brazilian's
doing, for he wouldn't put them aboard in time."
Mr. Harniss looked grave, and called for the orderly.
"Tell Commander Brownson that Captain Lockwood
wishes to see him."
"Ay, ay, sir," said the marine, departing on his er-
rand.
"But I haven't said anything of the sort," said the
Captain.
"You must tell the Commander your story," said Mr.
Harniss, " so as to set the boys right with him. It rests
with him to release them without ordering a court mar-
tial."
" I think I can make it all right," said the Captain.
The orderly returned and took the merchant skipper
to the cabin.
" Good-afternoon, Captain Lockwood," said Comman-
der Brownson. '• What can I do for you?"
" You can't do anything for me, sir; but now that I'm
here I want to thank you for the protection your ship
gave my bark the other day."
"Oh, don't talk about that," said the Commander.
" You know that's what we're here for."
"Well, sir, I won't say anything more about it, if you
don't want me to."
" I'm sure you didn't come to see me about that."
" No, sir; I came to see my young friends Cadets King
and Briscomb, and I find they're under arrest. I know
their offense was unavoidable, sir."
" How's that? Let me hear all about it."
'I MAY BE WEAK AND SICK," SAID FRANK, " BUT I CAN SEE. THAT LOOKS LIKE BOB!"
282
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME xvi.
Captain Lockwood rapidly narrated the events of the
preceding night, laying especial stress on Harold's cool-
ness and courage. It speedily became apparent to Com-
mander Brownson that the two young men had not in-
tentionally violated the conditions of their leave, and the
Commander readily understood that the Brazilian Cap-
tain had revenged himself by making them late. He
sent for Harold, and questioned him closely about the
matter. The boy's frank and unhesitating answers con-
vinced the commanding officer of his innocence. He
dismissed the young cadet, and sent for the Executive
Officer.
"Mr. Crane," he said, "I am afraid we have made a
slight mistake."
At the Commander's request Captain Lockwood re-
peated his story to Mr. Crane, and the Commander him-
self repeated the substance of his conversation with
Harold.
" There is only one thing to do, sir," said Mr. Crane.
" What, sir?" asked the Commander.
" The young men must be released from arrest at once,
and it must be made known that their conduct has been
satisfactory."
"You will attend to it at once. And now, Captain
Lockwood, you may see your young friends."
" Well, sir, what I was going to say to them would
have had to come to you in the end, so as long as I'm
here I'd like to tell it to you myself."
"Go ahead. Captain."
The merchant skipper proceeded to tell Commander
Brownson the stories of his son and his nephew down to
the preceding night.
"Now, sir," he said, "I wish first of all to save my
son from being shot; I suppose that's natural enough,
isn't it?"
"My dear sir," said the Commander, "you have my
deepest sympathy."
"And secondly, I want to get my nephew aboard my
own bark, where my daughter and I can nurse him."
"I am afraid that cannot be accomplished. You see,
he's an officer. Besides, what would you do for a phy-
sician '."
"I am acquainted with the best doctor in Rio, and I
could get him to come off every day."
Commander Brownson reflected for a few moments.
and then said, " I know of only one way it may be
done."
" How's that?"
" By purchasing his discharge. The insurgents are
hard pressed for money, and if they think he is going to
be laid up long they might let him off fora small price."
" I'll go and see Admiral da Gama at once," said the
Captain, rising.
"I wouldn't go personally, if I wers you. He will not
feel very cordial toward the Captain of the Alma. Is
there no one who is on good terms with him who would
do your errand?"
"No, not one. But wait! Yes, there is; there's Lieu-
tenant Benuos, of the Aquidaban, my nephew's good
friend."
"Just the man," said the Commander.
" But about my son; can't I buy his discharge, too?"
"No, I fear not while he is under sentence of death.
There is a big difference between a disabled officer and a
condemned seaman."
" NVhat's to be done, sir? My boy — my boy — he must
be saved!"
"Captain Lockwood, I shall go at once and lay this
case before Admiral Beiiham. His influence, I am sure,
will be sufficient to get the sentence commuted. This
rebellion cannot last much longer, and if we can save
the boy's life, you'll be able to get him away to America
when this silly war ends."
"God bless you, sir," said Captain Lockwood, in a
voice shaken with emotion, as he shook the officer's hand
warmly and left the cabin.
CHAPTER XXXII.
A REBELLION IN COLLAPSE.
COMMANDER BROWNSON did not altogether overesti-
mate the value of Admiral Benham's influence, yet the
commander of the American fleet could get from the in-
surgent chief no further assurance than that Robert
Lockwood's life would be spared for the present. Admi-
ral da Gama added that if he finally decided to execute
the condemned boy he would give the American Admiral
due warning. It may well be understood that this con-
dition of affairs put Captain Lockwood and his daughter
into a. fever of agonizing anxiety. Yet the American
skipper was a man of great courage and energy, and he
did not relax his efforts to save both his son and his
nephew. The result of his talk with Lieutenant Bennos
was that the latter placed the matter before his own com-
manding- officer, without whose sanction he could not
have applied to Admiral da Gama. The Captain of the
Aquidaban listened with patience, and. somewhat to the
surprise of Bennos, offered no objection to his proposition.
" It may as well be done now as later," he said, re-
flectively; "and the Admiral will be very glad to get
the money."
Accordingly Bennos visited the Liberfade and laid the
proposal of Captain Lockwood before the Admiral.
"It is a matter of no great importance now," said Da
Gama.
"Then lam to understand that you will sell the dis-
charge of Frank Lockwood?"
"Yes, you may tell Captain Lockwood that I will ac-
cept his money and release the boy."
Bennos lost no time in conveying the joyful news to
the American skipper, who promptly paid the sum agreed
upon, and received a written acknowledgment, together
with a formal discharge of Frank. The next step was to
secure the safe removal of the cadet from the Aquidaban
to the Alma. This was by no means an easy task, for
Frank was quite unable to leave his cot. It was neces-
sary to wait a day or two until the weather was perfectly
suitable. Then a cot was set up in the cabin of the
Alma, and a stretcher which could be hoisted by a tackle
was prepared. This stretcher was taken in the Almn'x
long-boat to the Aquidaban. Frank was placed in it
and carried on deck, and thence he was lowered into
the boat. Arriving alongside the Alma he was hoisted
aboard, and after the tackle was cast off he was carried
below and put in the cot. He was greatly fatigued by
the transfer, and for some hours he was inclined to be
feverish. But finally youth and hope conquered, and he
began to mend again.
" Uncle Hiram," he said, " I owe you a debt of grati-
tude which I can never repay."
"Don't think about that, Frank."
" I can't help it. Uncle Hiram. If I hadn't been fool-
ish enough to enlist in this service —
" I might never have found my boy, for it was you
that put us on his track."
" But that did so little good."
" Nonsense, Frank. His life is spared for the present,
and I haven't given up all hope of saving him by any
means."
"Well, you've saved my life, sir."
" That's putting it pretty strong, Frank."
"The doctor on the Aquidaban said you would live,'''
added Minnie.
" That may be so," said the boy : " but I'm sure I should
have died if I'd had to stay in that service any longer."
The next day the two cadets oil the Detroit obtained
FEBRUARY 19, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
283
permission to visit their friend. They sat by his cot for
an hour, and told him all that was going on in the Amer-
ican fleet.
" Watkins, Gleason, Briggs, and Brown have received
orders to report for their final examination," said Hal.
"Yes, and they're going to New York by the steamer
that sails to-morrow," said George.
Boom !
The thundering echo of a great gun rolled up the bay.
" What's that?" asked the wounded boy.
"Oil, Frank!" exclaimed Minnie, running into the
cabin, "the Aquidaban and the Kepiiblica are going out,
and the forts are firing upon them. I'm so glad you are
not aboard."
"But Bob!" exclaimed Captain Lockwood, springing
to his feet. " What '11 become of him?"
" Let us go to Da Gama at once," cried Hal, hastening
on deck, followed by the Captain and George.
"A boat's comin' from the Sail. Francisco, sir," said
Mr. Ball.
In a few minutes a cadet from the flagship boarded
the Alma. He had been sent to tell Captain Lockwood
that Admiral Benham, hearing that Da Gama and Mello
had quarrelled, and that the Aquidaban and Republica
were going south to engage in a vain attempt to carry
on the rebellion on their own account, had sent a per-
emptory demand to Mello to know what was to be done
witli Robert Lockwood. The reply was that he had been
surrendered to Admiral da Gama. That commander had
flatly refused to give any information further than to
say that the boy was aboard one of his ships.
"I'll go and see him," said Captain Lockwood.
The cadets returned to their ships, and the American
merchant Captain visited the Libertade. But it was in
vain, for he learned nothing. But Admiral da Gama re-
peated his promise to send word to Admiral Benham as
to any future treatment of Robert. Two days later
George and Harold tumbled aboard the Alma with
flushed faces.
" Old man," said Harold, " we've news for you."
" Yes," exclaimed George, " it's all over!"
" What's all over?"
" The insurrection."
" Has Da Gama surrendered?"
"No; but he has done something worse."
"What?"
"He has fled." said George.
" Yes," said Harold; " he has taken refuge on the Por-
tuguese war-ships.
"And the government fleet is about to come up the
bay."
At that moment the sound of heavy firing broke upon
the aii\
" Hurrah !" cried George. " The fun's begun."
" Oh," exclaimed Frank; " I wish I could see it. May
I, uncle? The doctor said I might sit up a little to-day."
" But I don't believe the excitement would be safe."
Minnie came and looked eagerly into her cousin's face.
"I am sure it would do him good, father," she said.
"Well, let's try it."
Harold and George brought a steamer-chair to the side
of the cot, filled it with pillows and blankets, lifted Frank
into it, and carried him on deck, where they stood beside
him. The scene that met their eyes was inspiring. The
batteries which President Peixoto had been planting on
the hills had opened fire on the insurgent forts. Bursts
of flame, followed by clouds of white smoke, were
springing from the mountains as if they had all suddenly
been transformed into volcanoes in active eruption.
Crest echoed to crest with the roar and rumble of artil-
lery. From the insurgent forts arose clouds of dust as
the shells fell and exploded within their walls. Out
from behind Sugar Loaf in a stately procession of single
column steamed the government fleet. The frowning
Nictheroy, with her huge dynamite gun pointing like a
titanic finger over her bow, led the way. Following in
her wake were the America and the other ships, while
the agile torpedo-boats spread out like skirmishers on the
wings. Every vessel flew her bravest holiday bunting.
The shores were lined with excited thousands, whose
glad cheers rang loudly across the waters. But the in-
surgent ships and forts were as silent as graves. And
when, a little later, President Peixoto's forces boarded
the vessels and entered the forts, they found them utterly
deserted. The rebellion in Rio Harbor had utterly col-
lapsed.
Utterly deserted is not strictly true. On the poop-
deck of the old Tamandare stood a single man. As the
Nictheroy swept grandly past, this man hoisted the Bra-
zilian flag to the peak and fired a shot from a musket.
As a result his ship was boarded first, and a few minutes
later the cutter from the Nictheroy shoved off again and
headed toward the Alma.
"They're coming right this way," said Hal.
"And there's a man standing up in the boat and
waving his hands," said Minnie.
"I may be weak and sick," said Frank, in an excited
tone, "but I can see. That looks like Bob!"
[TO BK CONTINUED.]
THE PHILLIPS EXETER ACADEMY.
BY W. H. RAND, JUN.
FROM the moment a boy is enrolled in Phillips Exeter
he is made to feel that it is t<> himself alone he has
to look for advancement either in academic standing or
popularity. He is surrounded there by none of the sup-
posed safeguards of constant supervision and minute reg-
ulations, once considered essential to the orderly disci-
pline of a great school. His time outside of the class-
room is his own, to improve or to waste, as he sees fit.
The authorities make only two requirements — that he
shall accomplish thoroughly the tasks set for him, and
shall conduct himself as a gentleman. If he fails to
meet these, there is no punishment for him in the usual
sense of the word, but the boy is made to feel that he is a
square peg in a round hole, and that the sooner he looks
about and finds a square hole to fit him, the better it will
be for all parties, particularly for himself. It follows
that Exeter is not the place for very young boys, nor
does it in any way serve the purpose of a reformatory for
boys who cannot be controlled at home.
For many years the only building used by the academy
was an unpretentious wooden school-house, standing in a
large yard, facing Front Street, a broad avenue lined with
the noblest of noble New England elms. Twenty-four
years ago this building was destroyed by fire, and in its
place the alumni and friends of the school erected the
present building, a capacious and modern brick structure
of two stories, with one-story wings on either side. The.
first floor is given up to recitation rooms. Above, in the
centre, there is a large chapel, where the walls are crowd-
ed with the busts and portraits of old Exonians who have
gained credit and fame for the academy in the great
world beyond the school-room doors. The place of honor
is filled by Stuart's painting of the founder — a benevolent
old gentleman who gazes benignly from his canvas at the
boys who assemble before him every morning. He is in
good company, too, for near him are Daniel \\"el>Mrr
Edward Everett, Lewis Cass, Butler, Hildreth, Bancrol'i.
Sibley, and many others prominent in public life, learn-
ing, and literature.
Behind the academy there is a large and well-appointed
gymnasium, with dressing-rooms, lockers, baths, rubbing-
rooms, sparring-rooms, bowling alleys, a running track, a
284
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
DINNEK IN ABBOTT HALL.
baseball cage, and all the approved appliances for deep-
ening1 chests and hardening muscles. Class exercises
under the supervision of a competent director are a part
of the regular course, so that physical culture is not con-
fined to the chosen few who represent the academy in in-
terscholastic contests. There are also well-equipped lab-
oratories for chemical and physical experiments. Tlie
other buildings of the school are two dormitories. Abbott
Hall and Soule Hall, where students of small means find
room and board suited to their purses. Most of the stu-
dents, however, live with private families, selected by the
faculty, and eat at club tables set forth plainly but abun-
dantly by Exeter landladies.
Amusements at Exeter are plenty and various. In the
winter months there are dancing parties supported by
the subscriptions of the students, and variously called
assemblies, promen-
ades, or germans.
These are usually given
in the gymnasium, and
the guests include, be-
sides the young ladies
of Exeter and neigh-
boring towns, sisters
and cousins, who brave
the terrors of Gorham
Hall, the leading hotel
of the town, for the
pleasure of the dance.
Invitations headed by
elaborate monograms
are sent forth, and the
boy whose name ap-
pears as one of the
committee, or as a
leader, feels that what-
ever adverse fortunes
may betide him, his
social position at least
is for all time secure.
The w Intel-brings the
hockey games on the
ice of the Fresh River,
and the weight-putting
and the lap-running of the candidates for honors at the
athletic meetings. Then there are sleigh-rides over the
bleak white hills under the winter stars, and the hot sup-
per to crown the work. There are also debating socie-
ties, where many a vexed question of statecraft and
social ethics and political economy is disposed of by
hearty school-boy oratory and rhetoric. But these are
only occasional diversions. The greater part of the win-
ter, fortunately, perhaps, for the year's average of scholar-
ship, is given to books. Then in the long evenings the
boys follow with halting feet the tramp of Caesar's le-
gions in the campaigns in Gaul, and laboriously discov-
er the adventures of the wandering .^Sneas. Then Aga-
memnon and Priam, Scipio and Hannibal attach new
soldiers to their fortunes, and there are warm discussions
by crowded (i resides over the relative merits of the sages
and statesmen and generals of Greece and Rome. Then
are feet twisted on the rungs of chairs, and brows wrin-
kled, and fingers spread in tangled hair, as the exasper-
ating problems of Professor Wentworth vex the brain of
sleepy youth. Then are the meetings and initiations of
the secret societies, whose members are bound by fearful
oaths, and who proclaim their loyalty in jewelled pins oil
their waistcoats, and try their best to believe that the
members of other societies, and particularly the unfortu-
nates who belong to no society, are of an order apart
from and inferior to themselves.
Twice a week throughout the year comes the Etonian,
with school news and notes from other academies and
from the colleges. Its editorial page exhorts the students
to support the nine, and to subscribe for the dances, and
admonishes the faculty when their resolutions do not
meet the approval of the student body, and in its columns
the budding Cives and Lector file their important com-
plaints. Once a month is published the Literary Maga-
zine, a pamphlet of more serious and less ephemeral inter-
est. Here are the seeds of the novelette and the dialogue,
the critique and the moralizing, that later fill the pages of
the Harvard Advocate and the Yale Courant. There is
a small but carefully selected library belonging to the
school, and a large collection of books belonging to the
town of Exeter, to both of which the students have free
access. Indeed, he is a boy of odd tastes who cannot find
means to enjoy them at Exeter. There is temptation to
useful and agreeable occupations in plenty, mental and
THEN THE SIGNAL IS GIVEN AND THE GAME IS BEGUN.
FEBRUARY 19, 1895
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
285
physical; next to no inclination to vi-
cious mischief, for which, fortunately,
there is small room in the peaceful vil-
lage. It only comes occasionally to the
ears of the students in whispered stories
of Seniors who have been entertained
in Boston or New Haven by their col-
lege friends, and have sat in cafes and
smoked and drank beer in real manly
fashion.
On Sundays all the boys are required
to attend church once. It used to be
twice not very long ago. but Exeter has
shared in the growing belief that the
religion which is forced is a religion
of doubtful value. A student is free to
choose anyone of the many churches of
the town, but the choice must be made
upon his entering the school, and he
must abide by it. Sunday afternoons
are all his own. That is the time for
long rambles over the country roads,
or through the woods to the eddy where the Fresh River
has its rise. This for good weather; and for stormy wintei
days there are fire and books and calls and letters home.
THE ACADEMY.
What Yale is to Harvard, what Cambridge is to Ox-
ford, Andover is to Exeter. A few years before the foun-
dation of the academy at Exeter Dr. John Phillips had
assisted his uncle, Samuel Phillips, in establishing a
school at Andover, in Massachusetts. This institution
in its progress and history resembles strongly the Exeter
school, and between the students of the two academies
there is a strong though friendly rivalry. They meet at
baseball, football, in track athletics, at tennis, and in de-
bate. To represent the academy in his chosen specialty
is the ambition that appeals most forcibly to the heart of
the Exeter boy.
Of all the days in the year there are two especially
marked with a red letter. These are the days of the an-
nual football and baseball games with Andover. For
•weeks beforehand the great game is the one topic of dis-
cussion at the club tables, in the school corridors, and in
the rooms. The strength, weight, appearance, and form
of each player are canvassed again and again. Rumors
of men of fabulous strength and size, induced to remain
at Andover long enough to be added to her team, come up
from the south, and are excitably discussed and often
credited. For the boys at school are very much like
their elder brothers in the colleges in their readiness
under pressure to believe bad things of each other.
At last the long period of anticipation conies to an end.
THE <;Y.MNASIT;,M.
Some Saturday morning three hundred pairs of eyes ,-irc
turned suspiciously to the sky. No boy is too young or
too small to be asked his opinion of the chances of good
weather. The morning lessons receive a perfunctory at-
tention, luncheon is bolted in haste, and the occasion is at
hand.
Early in the afternoon long flies of boys move along
elm-shaded Front Street to the campus, and not boys
alone, but all of the good people of Exeter who can possi-
bly give the time; for this clay is, by common consent, the
school day, and the interest of the townspeople is only
second to that of the boys themselves. Some of the older
boys are in all the glory of tail coats and canes, and are
escorting ladies. All the boys are decked with crimson
ribbon, and their eyes dance with the keen pleasure and
excitement of the moment. Gray-suited figures in red
stockings move in twos and threes, conversing earnestly
in low tones, and no boy is impertinent enough to disturb
those conferences by an interruption. The wooden benches
at the side of the field are quickly filled, and soon along
the opposite side troops the enemy — the same boys, one
would say, but for the blue ribbons they sport in coat lap-
els and on hats and canes. At the ends are massed the
buggies and carryalls of the farmers, who have come in
for the game, and sometimes there is a gay coach from
Portsmouth, crowded with jolly school-girls and their
escorts. But stop! A group of blue stockings run on
the field, and pandemonium breaks loose. On the An-
dover side, P-h-i-1-l-i-p-s rah ! rah ! rah ! the cheers roll
AN EXONIAX'S ROOM.
286
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
out, and E-x-e-t-e-r P-E-A rah! rnh! rah! comes the
reply.
The boys are splitting their throats for their favbrites.
': Look at that big fellow, will you, "says a cautious young
Exonian to his neighbor.
"Pshaw!" is the confident reply; "just wait till big
Peters runs against him!"
Then amid the frantic cheers there is a moment's pause,
the players take their positions, the signal is given, the
cheers burst out again in renewed strength and volume,
and the game is begun. The two crowded hours of glori-
ous strife are come. Andover scores; a tempest of cheers
breaks from her partisans, and her benches are a mass of
waving blue and tossing hats and canes. For a brief
time the delirious crowd is regarded in envious silence
from across the field, but "Courage, Exeter, courage, all
our hearts are with you !" is the message of the steady
cheers from the school seats, and the Exeter players
respond. A few minutes more struggle, and the score is
tied. A burst of crimson flags and a mighty roar from a
thousand throats greet this success.
"Ah, "thinks the happy boy who scored this point,
"if I could die now. with these plaudits ringing in my
ears !"
Again the champions strive, and again the point is Exe-
ter's. She is ahead. The most ignorant spectator knows
that by the dancing figures and the howling mass that
rise from the Exeter seats, while the blue flags are hidden,
and a wretched silence oppresses the Andover hosts. To
keep the lead, that is now the hope. Andover must not
score again, and she does not. At last i'. is all over.
" Now, then," cries the Exeter captain, "three times
three for Andover!'' and the cheers respond generously.
A similar compliment follows from the Andover team,
and then there is a rush for the players; they are lifted
high on the shoulders of their adorers, and the field is
soon deserted. Only the broken sod and a red cap or a
bit of canvas testify to the mighty struggle that has been.
Slowly the boys in blue climb into their barge, and
slowly and sadly their followers escort them to the station.
When the Portland express rushes in the passengers can
see nothing but boys. The cars rock with the cheering.
The Andover boys crowd into their cars, the bell rings,
and the train rolls slowly out, past the Exeter lads who
line the platform, cheering heartily for their vanquished
foes. The academy bell, too, has been ringing this hour,
telling to all the country-side that Andover is beaten.
There are happy dinners in Exeter that night. The
victorious players are parcelled out among the various
clubs as guests, too precious to dine all together.
Sometimes, for truth must be told, the day is lost. It
is Andover that 'scores again. It is the Andover cheers
that rock the station, and then there are silent dinners at
Exeter, and rooms are sought early, the neglected books
are opened, and the importance of examinations is sud-
denly brought home to the disappointed boys.
Another of the great occasions of school life is the visit
of the trustees at the end of the term. These great men
are conducted to the various class-rooms, where they look
wisely about them, and pretend they have not forgotten
their school-boy knowledge, and could step down from
the platform and read Homer at sight, or solve one
of Professor Wentworth's ingenious puzzles with the
greatest ease, if dignity would but allow it. Recitations
close at noon on that day, and the whole school assembles
in the chapel to hear a short address from one of the vis-
itors. The school rises as the trustees enter, and remains
standing until the august guests have taken their seats
on the platform. There are some short exercises, and
then comes the moment so impatiently longed for. The
senior teacher rises and gives the signal, whereupon there
are three such outbursts of hand-clappings as only happy
school-boys at the close of the term can give. This hand-
clapping is a time-honored custom of the school, only
performed on the occasion described, and when there is a
graduate in the chapel.
It is a proud day for the Exonian when he returns to
town from college in all the pride and panoply of college
Freshrnanship. His company is eagerly sought for at
the club tables, where he delights his hosts with stories
of the freedom of Harvard life, and of the larger school
to which he has graduated. He tells them what Exeter
men are on the eleven, and who are going to be. He
throws invitations broadcast to come down and see him
at Thanksgiving. "Beck, 22, you know," or " Holyoke "
" We'll make it jolly for you." But when he returns to
the university, with all his independence, he misses in
the conflict of selBsh interests the old companionship
and unity of interest of his school days, and, as he ex-
presses it, " fain would be a boy again."
In the late spring the Exeter boy's bosom is torn by
the conflict between duty and inclination. The latter
leads him to the campus to watch the practice of the nine,
or to the crowded tennis courts, or up the clear and tran-
quil little river to the cool shades of the eddy. But the
final examinations oppress him with fear. Before the
senior and the middle looms up the dread spectre of the
college-entrance examinations, where he knows a strict
account will be demanded of the use he has made of his
opportunities. Yet these terrors, in turn, slip away into
the past.
The four years are ended all too soon — a complaint,
I fear, of which this description stands in no danger.
The day comes when the school account is closed for
good or evil. On Class day, when the speeches are all
spoken, the songs all sung, the Class tree planted, the
June ball over, before he turns to his new life in college
or business, the Exeter boy looks back with tender affec-
tion to the four years of his school life, and wonders if
the future holds for him pleasures as keen, tasks as hard,
and associations and friendships as dear as those he has
left behind. And this affection in Exeter boys is strong
and constant in Exeter men, who cherish always their
memories of the old academy days.
W1
A SURE CURE.
HEX the snow begins to fall
On the lawns and tree-tops tall,
Anil the Mizzurd is a blustering through the slow old village
street,
Then I hie me from my hed,
And get out my old hob-sled,
And I polish up the runners till they shine like glistening
sleet.
When they ring the breakfast-bell,
I announce I am not well,
And I sigh and say I'm tired, and am simply just worn out;
And my mother says she thinks,
As my weary eyelid blinks,
That I'd best not go to school to-day there isn't any doubt.
But by ten o'clock I feel
So recovered that au eel
Could not give me any points on moving constantly around,
All the pain deserts my head.
And I take the old bob-sled,
And am shortly whizzing with it o'er the snow - incrusted
ground.
Whence I think 'tis very plain
That to cure a small boy's pain,
And to get him back to health without au ache within his
head,
There is not a dose or pill
That so fully fills the bill
As a good old well-packed snow-fall, and a chance to use a
sled.
FEBRUARY 19, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
287
THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF TOMMY
TODDLES.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTER X.
WITH the Clauis was a strange creature that looked to be
lialf horse and half vegetable. It had tour lioofs, and
all the rest were leaves.
"What in the world is that with the Clams?" asked the little
boy.
" That's the Horse-radish," answered the Sheep.
"Horse-radish always goes with Clams, you know, "said the
ex-Pirate, condescendingly.
"Of course; I ought to have thought of that," said Tommy.
"And with Oysters too."
"But the Oysters are away now," said one of the Clams.
"They've gone away for the summer. They never stay about
in May, June, July, and August."
" Awfully high-toned mollusks, those Oysters," sniffed a Little
Neck Clam.
" Yes ; just think of having four months' vacation every year,"
said another.
•' I was talking with a little Oyster ill his bed the other day,"
continued the first Clam, "and he said four months wasn't half
enough."
" He must have been a very young one," ventured the Horse-
radish.
"That's the way with those young ones," commented Thing-
umbob. "You give them an Inch -worm and they want an
Elephant."
" I notice the old Oysters are glad enough to get a rest of four
months." continued the Horse-radish.
"I suppose they think half a loaf is better than no vacation
at all."
" How odd of them !" put in Tommy.
"Odd f" queried the ex-Pirate. "Don't you like the Oysters?
Or do you prefer the society of the Clams ;'"
"Oh, I like Oysters, and I like Clams too."
"Clam stew!" shrieked the Little Neck Clam in great dismay.
"Too, "said Tommy, who noticed that the Clams were becom-
ing very much alarmed.
"Two?" repeated Thingumbob, with woful lack of tact;
•' why, I've seeu chowders where there was only one Clam."
But this line of conversation had become so distasteful to the
Clams that they were rapidly sinking into the sand. Thingum-
bob noticed this, and branched off on to another subject. "I
know why the Oysters go away in the summer," he said; " it's
because they don't like the Flies. The Flies go away in the
winter, yon know."
"So do we," said the Clam, now somewhat reassured.
"Where do the Flies go to?" asked Tommy. "I've always
wondered where they went in the winter-time."
'•That's what the Pink-eyed Gosliug asked," said Thingum-
bob.
"What?"
" He asked where the Flies went."
"And it's a classic, too. Another one of my classics," put in
the ex-Pirate. " Would you like to hear it ?"
"Go ahead! Go ahead!" said Thingumbob, pounding ou the
rock with his dipper. " Go ahead, whether he wants to hear it
or not. We'll hold him."
And so the ex-Pirate bowed to all, and began to recite, in bis
usual melodramatic manner :
" Where do the Flies go in winter-time ?"
The Pink-eyed Gosling asked.
"They go to a balmy, distant clime,
Where the sun is never masked;
To a land where clouds are still unknown,
Where the cold north wind has never blown,
And the seeds of sin are yet unsown,
Where all is true and good."
"And do the lutle Flies remain
All winter in this land.
Or do they find the constant strain
Too great for them to stand ?
For, even with the little Flies,
It seems occasion must arise
To weary of the cloudless skies,
Where all is true and good."
The Gander knit his furrowed brow,
Anil frowned upon his child,
And said, "'Tis plain to see that thou
Art yet both young and wild ;
But hearken to the old who preach,
And listen to the wise who teach,
Or else that land thou'It never re;>ch
Where all is true and good."
X ie had apparently noticed it, but while the ex-Pirate
was reciting, the six Clams had sunk into the sand until they
were wholly out of sight, and the Horse-radish had entirely
withered away. Thingumbob sighed when it was all over, and
began brushing his hair again. He also brushed his whiskers,
for they had growu out anew. Presently he said, "Since \ on
are speaking poetry, how do you like this :
Quoth the Codfish to the Pelican :
"Can you swim as well as I?
If you do not know how well I can,
I'll let you see me try."
" Is that all ?" asked Tommy, after a pause.
" That's all."
"And what happened ?"
"Nothing happened. Nothing ever happens," added Thing-
umbob, rather peevishly. " For instance :
The Zebra and the Crocodile,
The Quagga and the Gnu,
All started out one afternoon
To see what they could do.
They wandered quite a long ways off,
And had such loads of fun,
That when they came back home again
None knew what they had done.
And so, you see, practically, or as far as the outside world was
concerned, nothing happened."
The ex-Pirate pulled Tommy off a little to one side and whis-
pered in his ear: "He's that way. You see, he's been talking
too much. Let us leave him alone and go on our way."
But Tommy suspected that the real reason why the ex-Pirate
wanted to leave was because he was becoming jealous of Thing-
umbob. Nevertheless, as the Sheep was also inclined to pro-
ceed, they bade farewell to him and continued along the beach.
Tommy noticed, as they walked on, that the beach gradually
became, harder and harder to the step, and that the sand no
longer gave way beneath his feet as softly as well-regulated
sand should. He would not have minded such a thing, prob-
ably, if he had not been somewhat fatigued by his long walk,
but he was a tired little boy by this time, and did not much
care to have his progress made any more difficult. He looked
down at the sand to see what the trouble was, and discov-
ered that there was no longer any sand there at all. He was
now walking along on shingles. He looked about him, and it
seemed as if lie and his companions were travelling ou the roofs
of houses that had been built so closely together that there was
no room for streets in between them. And the rocks, too, that
had been scattered along the shore had in some unaccountable
manner disappeared to give place to chimneys, out of some of
which thin clouds of smoke coiled skyward.
"Where are we now .'" asked the little boy, when he had com-
pletely taken in the transformation of his surroundings.
"Where are we?" echoed the Sheep, as if he did not quite
understand the question.
" Yes ; what are we walking on ?"
"Oh, I see. Why, this is the shingle beach. There aren't
many like this. Isu't it queer? But we will be off of it in a
minute," and, sure enough, a few rods further on the shingles
melted into sand again, and the rocks ceased to be chimm -\s.
and the landscape became as perfectly natural as it had been
before.
"There it is!" shouted the ex-Pirate, just after they had left
the shingle beach behind them. "There's the Penguin's house,"
and he directed Tommy's attention to a queer-looking structure
about two hundred yards ahead of them, sheltered by a low
cliff' and well set back from the sea.
"Is that where the Penguin lives?"
"That's the place. That's his office, too. Don't you see THE
TIDAL WAVE written up over the door?"
Tommy Toddles had made up his mind not to be astonished
any more at anything he might see that day, or he doubtless
288
HARPER'S YOUNG 'PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
BOBBY. "I wish my birth-
day « as not tb'e 22d of Feb-
ruary."
JACK. "Why not?"
BOBBY. "Oh! every one
thinks because George Wash-
ington never told a lie, I
ought not to."
WHERE AND HOW.
WILLIE. "Tommy Jones
went and hit me an awful
crack with an apple."
PAPA. '• On purpose?"
WILLIE. "No, on the nose."
A NATURAL CONCLUSION'.
BOBBY. " Have I a little
drum in my ear, mamma .'"
MAMMA. " Yes, Bobby."
BOBBY. "Then, I suppose,
the jackass must have a bass-
drum in his."
II li KNOWS IT THEN
I CANNOT spell
So very well,
But when I see
A C-A-T
Below a cat,
I know it's that.
'HORSE-RADISH ALWAYS GOES WITH CLAMS, YOU KNOW," SAID THE EX-PIRATE.
would have been much more impressed than he was with the
Penguin's mansion, and later with the Penguin himself and with
his queer establishment. The house was built of oyster and
clam shells, and had four columns in front of it. These columns
were profusely decorated with lobster claws and crabs and star-
fish, and supported a sort of triangular pediment, along the base
of which was written in shiny pebbles the name of the Penguin's
newspaper, and on the apex of which roosted a large stone Gar-
goyle. That is, he. looked to be of stone, for he was gray of
color and sat perfectly still ; but as the three came nearer,
Tommy could plainly see, that the thing had red eyes, and that
the red eyes were firmly fixed on him. The house was fairly
large, and had a wide front door and several windows, through
which, even from a distance, you could see into the interior of
the rooms, where the Penguin appeared to be very busy at his
work.
On the steps outside were a crowd of little crabs that were
all talking at ouce, and pitching pennies and squabbling with
one another, just like a pack of very badly behaved young crus-
taceans that they were.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
PLANS FOR THE FUTURE.
" I'M going to be a lawyer
when I grow up, "said Walter.
"I'm not," said Jimmie. "I'm going to keep a candy store,
and be rich enough to cat it all up myself."
COULDN'T USE IT.
'• You are never satisfied, Jimmie," said his mother. "Here
you have a beautiful bob-sled, and yet you're moping all the
time."
"Well, I can't help it. Papa had ought to get me a hill to
slide dowu now. You won't let me use it on the stairs."
A GOOD REASON.
PAPA. " But why would you like to be an astronomer when
yon grow up, Tommy ?"
TOMMY. " Because then I would only have to go to night-
school when the stars are out to study."
TOMMY'S EXPLANATION.
THE difference between the chair with wheels,
And the rocking-chair I know;
The chair with wheels is for summer-time,
And the chair with runners for snow.
TWO REASONS.
JOHNNY. " I should think Japan would be a great place for
football, papa."
PAPA. "Why, Johnny ?"
JOHNNY. " Why, because the Japs have such long hair, and be-
sides the}' live in the land of the chrysanthemum."
"Jack, you've been skating this afternoon instead
of attending school."
JACK. "I know it ; but you see, mamma, we had our aril lime-
tic class this afternoon, and our professor, he's a dandy, decided
to give us a lesson in fancy figures on the ice, so I had to go."
WILLIE'S WINTER THOUGHT.
OUT in the night, where the wild winds wfng,
And through the gray trees go whee/.iug,
It's funny the poor little birds don't sing,
Ju>t to keep their pipes from freezing.
TODDLETUMS. " Mamma, what are angels ?"
MOTHKU. " They are the armies of the Lord, my child."
TODDLKTUMS (after thinking deeply). "Then the stars must be
their camp-fires at night."
FOR COMIC VALENTINE.
Suggestion to the Post-office Department for a series of special
St. V;ik-ntine's day week.
FOR SENTIMENTAL VALENTINE,
stamps for
H
HARPERS
TOUNG PEOPLE
C"i.yrli;hl, 1895, by HARPKB & BR
:3. All Rights Ree
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 800.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
LORELEI OF THE SHOW=BILLS.
T1HIS was how it happened that the Lorelei had the
little black mare on the morning of the great freshet,
which will be long remembered in Millbank. Polly
Westlake, of Millbank, away at boarding-school, was
puckering what the girls called her fine Greek brows
over her German, when Dorothy Hackett, her room-
mate, who was toasting a plump marshmallow over the
gas and reading a letter from home at the same time, re-
marked carelessly, " Polly, Sid says your brother Pills-
bury didn't ride over to Clarion to see him, as he prom-
ised to, because there was a limp in the black mare's leg."
Polly made a great blot on her exercise, and sprang up
as if she had been shot. " Oh, that Pill ; lie's been riding
my Cetta!" she cried. "And he's so rough! I know
what I'll do," she added, after a moment's reflection.
" I'll have Cetta sent down to the Lorelei, and let her and
her uncle take care of her until I am at home again."
"Sent to whom?" asked Dorothy.
"The people from whom I bought her. Didn't I ever
tell you? Queer people they are, for a little western
Pennsylvania town. A show left them stranded there ; the
old man had rheumatic fever, and the girl wouldn't leave
him. She was called the 'Lorelei' on the show-bills; she
isn't sixteen yet. I think, and that was a year ago. She
sat on a sort of pink candy rock, with a harp, and her hair
down. Then the rock went up out of sight, to slow mu-
sic, and she dashed down 011 a trapeze. The old man was
a horse -trainer and a sword-swallower, and he's very
proticl of his feats. People won't associate with them be-
cause they were in a show; they're Italian, too, and
290
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVL
speak very queer English. The boys tease the old man,
and Lory told me. with tears in her eyes, that a girl said
' they were not like other peoples.' "
"Poor thing-!" said Dorothy, sympathetically, as she
toasted another marshmallow.
" They paid the last cent they had in the world for the
little black mare. She was a trick pony, and they said
she was abused. They wouldn't have sold her to papa if
they hadn't been frightfully poor. I'll write to papa this
very minute and ask him to send the mare to Lory.
They have a little barn behind their little log and plaster
house." And so she did forthwith.
"For me to keep till she comes home?" Lorelei
seized the little black mare's bridle with an eagerness that
made the color come and go in her olive cheek'. The
mare rubbed her nose against the olive cheek, and whin-
nied softly.
"My sister said in her letter that she didn't want me
laming her. I don't know what she meant," said Pill
Westlake, gruffly.
" She is not lame?" inquired the girl, anxiously exam-
ining the mare's slender legs.
"Of course not, "answered Pill, contemptuously; "some
girl's notion that she'd got into her head. / didn't want
to ride her old horse, anyway. My black mare was lame;
I've just got it fixed; it will beat that one all hollow !"
"Your mare? oh, I know what you mean" — the girl
showed her large 'white teeth in a broad smile. "A
boy will like his bicycle; it is natural," she added, with
an air of friendly tolerance; " but to say it will beat
Cetta — oh no, no!"
" I'll show you one of these days, "said Pill, carelessly.
Then with a few words about the care of Cetta and the
payment to be made for it, he sauntered away.
He felt a friendly feeling enough, for the girl; he had
even noticed that she looked as if life went hard with
her; but yet when, just as he was turning away, her old
uncle came along, he called out to him :
"Hullo, old Polonaise! I know your sword-swallow-
ing secret that you think nobody knows!" He had let
the old man pass him, and turned around, walking back-
ward slowly, as he called out to him.
The old man did not turn his head, but the girl's face
grew white with anger — or with pain.
"It's only that you didn't swallow 'em!" shouted Pill.
The girl swooped upon him, and seized him by the
arm with a fierce grip.
"Don't say that again — don't let him hear you! It
would keell him! None of them, I think, have evva say
that!"
"Pooh! of course everybody knows it was only make-
believe," said Pill, contemptuously, and he said it so loud
that the old man must have heard, though he did not
turn his head.
The girl's face suddenly flamed with wrath, and she
poured forth a torrent of angry words in a tongue which
Pill did not understand. He knew by her gestures that
she was making direful threats, and he retreated rapidly,
still keeping his face to the enemy's fire. She seemed a
regular little spitfire, he said to himself, and one didn't
want to have a fuss with a girl.
In his heart Pill felt very much ashamed of himself.
It was the fashion to make fun of that old man; he
had done it thoughtlessly. He didn't suppose the girl's
threats of vengeance meant much; certainly she would
not harm Cetta; nevertheless, as he walked away, Pill
was uneasy as well as ashamed.
It was March, and Polly Westlake had come home to
Millbank for the spring vacation — late in March, but the
winter had been long and cold, and the ice had not yet
gone out of the river. It was the great event of the year
when the ice went out
Now there had come a thaw; Polly had been driven
home from the station late at night in a pouring rain,
and she had found Pill full of excitement about the
probable freshet.
Had he remembered to bring Cetta home in view of
her expected return? Of course he had not! Was it a
time to think of horses when the river was likely to "get
on the rampage." as the old boatmen said. Pill didn't.
even think to make fun of her for her ridiculous scare
about the broken hind wheel of his bicycle. It was
prophesied that when the ice went out the bridge that
spanned the river between Millbank and Lowder City
would go too. A fellow wanted to be on hand to see that
sight! All along the river-banks people were watching
their property that night. Pill would have watched, if
he had been allowed to; he meant to keep awake, but, as
has perhaps happened to other boys with such intentions,
he fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.
It was Polly who lay awake for a long time, listening
to the rain and to a hoarse murmur, that grew louder
and louder, and finally mingled queer! y with her dreams.
It was not yet daylight when she awoke. Some men
running by the house were shouting to each other that
the ice was going out. Polly dressed herself hurriedly,
and slipped out of the house. She heard no one stirring
in the house, and she decided not to arouse the children ;
that would cause delay, and she might miss the wonder-
ful sight. For one reason or another she had always
missed it; she had been away at school, or it had hap-
pened in the night, or she had been too late.
The flaring flame of the natural gas with which the
town was lighted mingled strangely with the gray light
of the early dawn; the hoarse murmur had grown to a
roaring and crashing that was like the noise of artillery.
As she n eared the river a bicycle ahead of her, now visi-
ble, now lost in the throng, had attracted her attention;
there was something familiar in the sturdy back and the
closely cropped curly head of the rider. Suddenly a
gleam of yellow flannel and some tossing lint-white curls
caught her eve from, the front of the bicycle.
" Pill Westlake, you have Bob!" she cried, aghast.
"The poor little chap hollered so, and I couldn't get
Nannie "(his nurse) "to wake up. /dressed him — well,
he's good and warm, anyhow," said Pill, shamefacedly,
as Polly laughed, in spite of her dismay, at the yellow
flannel pajamas which candidly revealed themselves
under Bob's short dress skirts. "You needn't be afraid ;
he hangs on like a trooper," called Pill, as the bicycle
disappeared from Polly's sight.
A few minutes after Pill was wishing that he had left
Bob with Polly. Nick Haven, the mill superintendent's
son, had "stumped "him to ride across the bridge on his
bicycle. There were different opinions about the safety
of the bridge, and of course there was much excitement.
There had been a great amount of snow upon the hills to
swell the flood, the ice was of unusual thickness, and
there were huge blocks that were wallowing about like
living monsters, and piling themselves up into tall glist-
ening bergs, to be hurled like battering-rams against the
bridge.
But Pill said, Pooh ! people had always said that bridge
would be carried away, and it never had been. Of course
he would ride across it; he wouldn't " take a stump," any-
way. So he left Bob to the care of little Dick Fraserand
Tommy Upham — boys of eight and ten — and off he spun
on the straining, groaning bridge.
There were many people gathered at the end, where
escape would be easy at the first sign of the bridge's giv-
ing way, and they called after Pill, some in warning, some
with mocking cheers. Every one knew of Pill Westlake's
boast that his bic3rcle was the fastest one in town, and he
was only to go over and back; perhaps he could do it.
Pill felt himself to be a very brave boy, as many an-
FEBRUARY '26, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
291
other had done, when he was only foolhardy. He was
nearly midway of the bridge when the crash came. The
bridge was cut in two, and Pill, dazed and stunned for
a minute, found himself drifting- down tlie river on half
of it.
It was on the home side of the river; if it would only
float a little farther towards the shore he would try to
jump off on to one of the large ice-cakes that were drift-
ing about there, and make his way to land.
Suddenly Pill caught sight of something on one of those
floating ice-cakes that made his heart stand still — a bit of
brilliant yellow! A little figure with floating lint-white
locks was stretching pitiful, entreating hands towards the
shore!
Pill will never forget the agony of self reproach that
lie felt at that moment to have left little Bob to wander
into such peril as this.
Polly was among those who had ventured far out upon
the ice-cakes in the frantic hope of rescue. There were
men with hooks and ropes; some one was trying. to push
oft' in a boat, which could not be managed in such a whirl-
pool. In the midst of the wild confusion Polly saw a fly-
ing figure — the Lorelei mounted upon the little black mare.
Into the water the little mare plunged gallantly ; it seem-
ed to Polly that it could not be real; it was a part of the
dreadful nightmare.
"Do not fear," cried Lory, with a flash of her white
teeth. " Cetta she swim like fish."
It was a hushed throng that waited on the shore. Polly
shut her eyes, but when she opened them the Lorelei had
scrambled upon the ice-cake and held Bob aloft in her
dripping arms.
A great cheer went up from the shore, but there was
one person who remembered the brave little mare. She
could swim like a fish once, but that was when she was
constantly in training. This water was cold, and whirl-
pools threatened to engulf her, and ice-blocks to crush
her. The old showman's voice rang out above the din;
one would scarcely have believed that such a cracked old
voice could be so full of martial command. And the
little black mare could understand his lingo; she raised
her head and her line nostrils quivered; one more gal-
lant struggle, and she had reached the shore.
Meanwhile the surging mass that had beaten down the
bridge came down towards the ice-cake where the Lore-
lei stood with Bob in. her arms; it might submerge the
ice-cake, it might drive it towards the shore.
It did drive it towards the shore, and a murmur of
thanksgiving went up from the throng. The gap of
seething water between it and the firmly lodged mass
upon shore was still wide. Some men were making
plans to bridge it, when suddenly, with a flying leap—
rather a bird's flight — the Lorelei with the child in her
arms came across; the Lorelei's flying-trapeze acts had
not been for nothing! And it was none too soon; the
shock which had driven it towards tlie shore had cracked
the cake of ice, and even as the girl sprang from it it
went to pieces.
Oh, it was a wild cheer that went up from the crowd!
Mothers — even those who had not allowed their children
to go near "the show people" — kissed and caressed the
Lorelei ; even the astonished little wet black mare was
hugged. The same impetus which had driven the ice-
cake shoreward had carried Pill's great raft high and dry
upon the bank. He was a thankful boy when he took
himself and his bicycle off, but it occurred to him that he
would feel a little more heroic if he had received a few
scratches. It also occurred to him that nobody was mak-
ing much fuss about his danger; but, in truth, there had
been much anxiety, until it became evident that his bridge
raft was strong enough to stand any roughness that it
was likely to meet with, and was inevitably drifting in-
shore.
"That time the black mare was the better horse!"
called Ike Haven, the superintendent's older son, as Pill
went by the mill.
" It makes consid'able dif'runce who's ridiii' the hoss,"
said one of the mill men, dryly.
Pill saw Polly standing in front of the little mud and
plaster house. There was a throng of people about, and
the Lorelei was looking with her wide friendly smile into
the sympathetic faces.
" I shall have Cetta for mine own again, you say? for
mine own?" she was saying, joyously, to Polly. "And the
peoples — they will know what to maka of me? We shall
be like other peoples, though we were of the show? Oh,
it is too good, too good!"
The old showman bowed solemnly all around, with
his hand upon his heart. "But my secret, it will die
vit me!" he said.
"You didn't swallow 'em, that's all the secret," thought
Pill. But he didn't say it. He never has said it again.
STUDYING THE STABS.
BY WILLIAM M. DAVIS, OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY.
A GOOD many years ago, when I was a boy, my curi-
osity was greatly excited by the round dome of the
Harvard Observatory. It crowned the top of a hill that
was in sight from an artillery recruiting camp, where a
good number of my Saturday half holidays were spent,
watching the flying batteries; and along with the excite-
ment of the booming cannon I remember my wonder
about the observatory dome, and the sights of the sky
that the astronomers there must have through the great
telescope. Astronomy was always a fascinating study
to me, and many a summer evening did I spend with Bur-
ritt's chart of the heavens studying the constellations
from a little balcony that looked to the south.
A curious thing came of those early studies. It hap-
pened that a year or two later, in the spring of 1866,
while walking through the orchard to my uncle's house
one evening, I glanced up to the sky, as was my wont,
and there in the Northern Crown a new star stood
alongside of the familiar semicircle! I hurried home
and looked up the star charts. Surely enough the star
was wanting; and, to make a long story short, it turned
out to be the famous Nova of 1866, seen by a few ob-
servers in Europe on the night I had noticed it, and by
one other person in this country, but by no one on an
earlier date. This find stood me in good stead; for dur-
ing the following summer I was fortunate enough to
meet Professor Benjamin Peirce, a famous mathematician
and astronomer, who expressed an interest in my obser-
vation, and when I went to Cambridge as a student the
following autumn. Professor Peirce took me up to the
observatory; thus were the wonders of the great dome
laid open.
Many a cold winter night did I spend shivering in
that dome, making records under the shaded light in. the
alcove, while the observer sat in the dark by the telescope,
and occasionally gave me a sight of a double star, or an
asteroid, or a comet. It was not exactly what a good
many boys would have called " fun," but on the whole
I am satisfied with the outcome of it. It gave me a very
different idea of an astronomer's life from what I had had
before. Reading about Herschel and how he found Ura-
nus, about Leverrier and how he predicted the place of
Neptune, I had almost grown to believe that astronomers
were most of the time making great discoveries. As a
matter of fact, there is vastly more work done between
discoveries than there is on the discoveries themselves;
patient, laborious, routine work, by which the results of
former discoveries are followed up, and the way to new
ones slowly opened.
292
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
THE OBSERVATORY AT HARVARD UNIVERSITY.
The work differs greatly, according to the special sub-
ject of study that an observatory takes up; but there is
one thing that every observatory must have, and that is
correct time. Every clear night an observer must spend
the better part of an hour in making time observations.
The next day, or it may be at once after the observations,
they must be reduced, so as to determine the error of the
clock by which they were made. Star time, not sun
time, is always used. This work is done with a special
telescope, generally a small one, set on a level east-and-
west axis, so that it turns in the meridian of the place.
Slides in the walls and roof of the building open so as to
disclose a slice of the sky from north to south ; then the
time of passage of certain stars across the meridian line
can be determined. All sorts of delicate corrections have
to be taken into account before the time is accurately
known; but then it can be trusted almost to a tenth of a
second. Besides using the time in the observatory, it is
often sold to railroads and watchmakers. It is first con-
verted into standard time — how in the world this is done
you can hardly imagine, nor can I stop to explain — and
then it is sent out by ticks on a telegraph wire. Certain-
ly that is a curious kind of merchandise, and a curious
way of distributing it; but it yields a valuable income to
many observatories.
As I have said, the work of an astronomer varies
greatly with the size of the observatory where he is en-
gaged and with the kind of investigation that is going
on. In large observatories the work is subdivided, so
that each assistant has only a certain small part of it,
and this may become extremely monotonous, the observ-
ers pursuing work of the same kind over and over again
night after night; the computers measuring off records,
setting down figures, adding, subtracting, multiplying,
and dividing according to some «et plan, uniform for
days and weeks together. In a small observatory the
work is generally more varied; but there also it may be
of hardly more than a single pattern, if the observer takes
up some special study and follows it as far as it leads.
Some astronomers make it their life work to search for
comets; they sweep the heavens, as it were, and gather
up these little scraps. Sometimes an observer discovers
a comet, only to learn that some one else had found it a
day, or even an hour or two before. More often still,
weeks and months pass by without discovering anything;
but the work is still patiently kept up. One comet a year
is a good harvest for a cultivator of this kind of celestial
crop. Three in all were found in 1893. When first found
a comet seldom has any tail, it is simply a hazy little
star, looking like a nebula or minute luminous cloud. If
the charts and catalogues do not show any nebula at the
place in question, it is a good find. A little longer
watching will show that it is moving among the stars,
thus making sure that it is a comet relatively near by
our sun, not a remote immovable nebula. Then the
news of it is telegraphed over the world by international
short-hand, and many observers follow its track among
the stars, so as to determine its orbit before it disappears.
Most of the comets that swing around the sun are faint,
hardly visible without a telescope. It is only rarely that
a comet of great size and brilliancy visits us; but as
every little new-comer may turn out to be a grand affair,
the interest and excitement of the search continue.
The study of the planets used to be a study of their
movements, but that subject is now so well worked out
that the modern astronomer, with his more powerful
telescopes, directs his attention chiefly to their physical
features. Mars and Jupiter are of particular interest in
this respect, and many a sharp eye watches them faith-
fully during their oppositions — that is, while they are
opposite to the sun, and hence nearest to the earth. It
is now proposed by Mr. Percival Lowell, of Boston, to
equip an observatory in the clear air of the high plateaus
of Arizona, and make the features of Mars the chief ob-
ject of study next year. Much is yet to be found out
about Mars.
The fixed stars, bright and faint, that stand and shine
steadily in one place generally give little trouble after
they are once catalogued ; but cataloguing all of them is
a, tremendous undertaking. In recent times the work of
cataloguing a vast number of stars was distributed, un-
der the leadership of the German Astronomical Society,
to a number of observatories. Then, for month after
month, the observers charged with this onerous duty set
to work to take the time at which every star in the belt
of sky assigned to them crossed the middle line of a me-
ridian telescope, and this work is still in progress.
It is hardly true, however, to imply as I did above that
these fixed stars take care of themselves when they are
once catalogued. There are several special lines of study
that may then be directed towards them. In the first place,
the stars do not really stand absolutely still with respect
to each other. It is probable that they all move slightly;
most of them imperceptibly; a few of them fast enough
to be noticed after some years of waiting, watching, and
measuring.
Another special study of the fixed stars leads to the
disco'very of their apparent shift of position in conse-
quence of the earth's annual movement around the sun
— that is, the direction of some stars is slightly different
when seen from two points on opposite sides of the
earth's orbit. 180,000,000 miles apart. It is extraordinary
that so great a change of position of the observer should
not make a more perceptible apparent movement of the
PORTION OF A PHOTOGRAPH OF THE MILKY WAV TAKEN THROUGH A
TELESCOPIC.
FEBRUARY 26, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
293
stars; their distance from us must be literally immense
if they seem to stand still while \ve move so far. But
the few of them that have been found to move a little
are studied with the greatest care, for thereby their dis-
tance is measured, and the measurement of the distance
to a fixed star is a wonderful achievement. It was long
deemed impossible, and was not accomplished till this
century. The work is extremely delicate; it cannot be
attempted by any but the very finest instruments and
the most skilful observers.
Some of the stars have a peculiar habit of varying; in
brightness; these being the so-called variable stars. The
study of these " variables " is now the special •work of a
number of astronomers, and some very curious results
have been found. Some of the stars " blink." as it were,
for a few hours every day or two: hencr- it is thought
that some dark body re-
volves around them, period-
ically cutting off part of their
light; others gradual 1 y
brighten, and then grow
fainter, requiring, perhaps,
several months for their
change; others again are
extremely irregular in their
ups and downs. The most
remarkable of all the varia-
bles are those that sudden-
ly appear, shine brightly for
a time, then gradually fade
away, like the Nova, or new
star of 1866, already men-
tioned, or the Nova in Au-
rig'a of 1892. It is seriously
believed that the temporary
light of such stars results
from the collision of two
bodies, "striking fire" on a
grand scale. One is discov-
ered every few years, and
any school boy or girl fa-
miliar with the constella-
tions may take a chance
in such discoveries. One
of the interesting features of
this class of work is that
it can be carried on by am-
ateur astronomers with a
very modest outfit. Patience,
good eyesight, an opera-
glass, and a star chart suf-
fice to reach excellent re-
sults.
When the eye looks at a star it is tired after a few min-
utes' strain and then cannot see so well, but when a photo-
graphic plate is exposed in a telescopic focus it sees better
and better the longer it looks. By means of the usual
clock-work arrangement the telescope follows the stars,
and thus a "sitting" of even an hour or more can be made.
Stars that are far below perception by the eye through
large telescopes are thus recorded on the glass negative
either as little black spots in a direct vision telescope, or
as spectral bands in a prism telescope. Moreover, while
the eye can study only one thing at a time, the photogra-
phic plate takes in all the stars of the telescopic field and
records them equally well. Another great advantage
of the photographic record is its permanence. It can be
stored away for future reference; it can be sent from
place to place: it can be faithfully copied by making a
photo-print. No wonder, then, that some observatories
have become great photographic establishments, where
night after night pictures of patches of the sky are taken
in systematic order, until the whole sky is surveyed and
recorded. The Harvard Observatory now has a collec-
tion of many thousand stellar photographs 011 glass plates,
all conveniently arranged like books in a library, so that
reference can be immediately made to any desired part
of the sky. These plates include not only the northern
sky, but also a considerable part of the southern hemi-
sphere, taken at the Harvard Branch Observatory estab-
lished in Peru. The Bruce telescope, of extraordinary
power, is soon to be sent down there.
Many persons fancy that an astronomer's work is done
mostly at night, and that, like the printer of a morning
paper, an astronomer must sleep all day. It is true that
much late night-work lias to be done, but the work in day-
time is of greater amount. Most of the figuring and cal-
culating is done in the day-time, to say nothing of the
observation of the sun. Some astronomers make the sun
their special subject of
study ; and what with the
analysis of his light, his light
and dark spots, his rotation,
and his constitution, they
have a grand field for their
labors.
There is one peculiar duty
that is added, to the other
work of astronomers; that
is the reception of visitors
who wish to see the big tele-
scopes, and look through
them at the stars. It does
not seem to be generally
understood that such inter-
ruptions seriously interfere
with the work of an observaj
lory. It was once my
duty to stand by the
telescope during the
visit of a distinguished
Senator and his wife
to whom courteous at-
tention was due. A
double star was shown ;
one of those binary
solar systems in which
each sun slowly moves
around the other in the
. course of a few centu-
ries; and on mention-
ing the fact of their
motion, the reply was,
"Oh yes, I see them
turning." The visitor
at the telescope had
mistaken the unsteadiness or "dancing" of the stars
caused by the irregular passage of their, light through
our atmosphere for their exceedingly slow mutual revo-
lution. Do you suppose it was the Senator or his wife
who asked the question ;
Then there are occasionally what may be called astro-
nomical picnics, quite out of the usual order of things.
An eclipse of the sun or a transit of Venus may be best
seen in some remote quarter of the globe, and this excites
the civilized nations of the world V, a generous competi-
tion. Expeditions are sent out, not infrequently in naval
vessels of the various countries, and if all goes well the
astronomers do not have half a bad time of it. Some-
times they go on exploring expeditions, so as to determine
the position of new-found lands; but this sort of work is
now rather out of date, so \vell is the whole world known.
Boundary surveys between adjoining nations still call for
travelling astronomers, and an old companion and friend
of mine is now absent on that sort of a task between Mex-
ico and Guatemala.
COLD WORK ON WINTER NIGHTS.
294
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"THE 'SCUTNEY MAIL."
THE STORY OF A YOUNG PEOPLE'S NEWSPAPER
VENTURE.
BY SOPHIE SWETT.
Part V.
fl^OM'S whole heart was in the Mail— all the more since
JL what he regarded as a rival had appeared in the field
in the form of the new paper, which was to be called The
'Scntney Telegraph. Macurdy found this out as soon as
he talked with him. To desert Tom and go over to the
enemy, seemed, therefore, to Macurdy a hase thing, so
he finally decided after a long debate with himself.
Meanwhile Tom hung around Croome's block ; he often
went into the editorial office, and watched the carpenters
at work there. One day the editor, the lively man of
Macurdy's acquaintance, caine in and spoke to him in a
flatteringly friendly fashion, calling him "a brother
craftsman," and introduced him to "Mr. McPherson,"
another member of the Telegraph company.
These men thought something of the Mail, and they
knew, thought Tom, proudly. The little quizzical air of
the editor, which had offended Macurdy, quite escaped
Tom.
''You don't happen to know of a boy that we could
get, do you?'' asked the editor, after some conversation, in
which lie had drawn Tom out concerning the affairs of
the Mail. "A 'Scutney boy with something in him, to
grow up with the paper ?"
And then he explained the drudgery to be done, and
also the chances. And Tom's heart thrilled almost as
Macurdy's had done.
"I wish you'd take me!" he said. "I'm awful tired
of going to school. I've been wanting to go into busi-
ness— into real business for a long time."
"Would your father be willing? You father is Dr.
Pickering, isn't he?" asked the editor.
"Yes, I'm sure he would let me; for this spring and
summer, anyway."
"We'll try you if he's willing," said the editor; and
Tom went off feeling as if he walked on air.
It was not until he came within sight of the publishing-
house of the Mail that he felt a twinge of regret. Every
one said that the Mail was a great success— for boys— but
thev were apt to give all the credit of the success to Ma-
curdy, and to call it Macurdy's paper. And Luella said
it was " mean " for him to tell everybody that it was his
money, anyway. And he wanted to have something to
do with a new enterprise that was creating such a sensa-
tion. But what would Macurdy say about giving up the
Mail * He would be sorry to have Macurdy disappointed ;
he would like to do the fair thing by Macurdy.
All unconscious that he was losing not only his chance
in life but the little paper upon which he had worked so
hard as well, Macurdy went the next day with his plough-
share, only to find when he reached the Four Corners
that Nate Brimblecom, the blacksmith, had a felon on
his finger, and was not able to sharpen it. In view of
such an emergency, Mr. Bigsby had told him to go on
to Hebron; his (Mr. Bigsby's) brother was a blacksmith
there, and if Macurdy could not get it done in time to
bring it home to-night — itfceing already late in the after-
noon— he was to remain at Mr. Bigsby's brother's all
night, and return early in the morning. The plough must
be ready for use just as soon as possible.
When Macurdy arrived, the blacksmith was said to be
at the railroad station near his shop, and Macurdy went
over there to look for him.
A stranger — a young- man very stylishly dressed, but
with a weak face and a look which even to Macurdy's in-
experienced eyes suggested dissipation — standing near the
stage inquired of Macurdy if that were the conveyance
to 'Scutney.
" Do you know anybody over there?" he continued im-
mediately, upon receiving Macurdy's affirmative answer.
" I b'long over there," said Macurdy, readily.
"You don't happen to know a boy named Macurdy
Green, do you?" asked the young man.
"Well, I'm some acquainted with him." said Macurdy,
looking down and digging his heel into the ground in
an embarrassed way. Then he looked up and grinned.
"Oil, you're Macurdy Green, are you?" said the stran-
ger. And he looked Macurdy over with a somewhat
puzzled air.
"You have something to do with a little paper that
the boys publish over there, and you're great friends with
a boy at the poor-house who has been writing little
sketches for the paper."
Macurdy nodded assent, feeling a vague wonder that
his affairs should be spread abroad in the land; for it
was evident that the stranger had just arrived in Hebron
by train.
" I want to see the boy — Jim. You see, there's a lady
out in Texas, where I came from, who lost a boy who
was called Jimmie, and he was fond of pets, and this boy
reminds her of him. She wanted me to come here and
see him. Of course it can't be her son, because we heard
positively that he was dead. But her health is broken —
her husband died suddenly soon after the son— and we
have to humor her queer notions. I'm her nephew.
Now, I want to see the boy Jim without his seeing me.
Of course I don't want to show an interest in him, to
arouse any false hopes in his mind. My aunt's friends
don't think it would be well for her to adopt a boy in the
present state of her health, even if he did remind her
very much of her son who died. But I promised t]iat I
would see what he was like, and ease her mind."
The young man spoke in an easy, off-hand way, but he
cast glances of keen curiosity at Macurdy, and ended with
an. embarrassed little laugh.
"Jim hasn't any friends that I know of," said Macur-
dy, sadly. " I wish I could find out where he came from.
He's a little weak in his mind."
"Doesn't remember anything of his life before he came
here?" The young man asked the question carelessly, but
there was an eagerness in his tone which did not escape
Macurdy. Farmer Bigsby had been heard to say that
Macurdy hadn't big ears and a sharp nose for nothing.
"No; he doesn't remember even his name. They
called him Jim in the circus, so that probably is the
name he gave them," answered Macurdy. But he had
begun to be careful about what he said.
"And — and Sarah Lond, the name he gave his weasel,
was a name that happened to strike his fancy?"
"No, it was the name of some one he used to know;
an old woman, he thinks, who was kind to him; he gets
bewildered when he tries to remember," said Macurdy.
It was Macurdy's turn to look at his questioner now.
The young man's face had flushed, and his brows wrin- -
kled anxiously.
. " I should like to have a little talk with you," he said
at length. " Perhaps it may not be necessary for me to
go to 'Scutney at all. I'm sure that it would not be wise
for my aunt to adopt the boy, as he is weak-minded."
Macurdy's eyes had wandered towards the travelling-
bag which the young man carried. A card hung from
it with a name engraved upon it. The stranger tore it
off when he saw Macurdy's gaze.
"That's a friend's card; we changed 'grips' by mis-
take," he said, with a careless air. " My name is Brown-
low — George K. Brownlow. As I was going to say,
you're a bright, smart fellow, and a friend to the boy.
I'm willing to make it for your interest — very much for
your interest — to help me keep my aunt from being
FEBRUARY 26, 1895
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
295
troubled any further about him. I want to send him
away from here— farther East, probably, and I should
like to have you go witli him to look after him. You
and he would both be well provided for — boarded in some
family, and you could both go to the best schools, and
when you grow up, I'll see that you have a good start in
life. I'll do more; I'll give you five thousand dollars
when you are twenty-one. I'll put it into a bank for
you now, so that you can be sure of it if — if you'll take
good care of Jim, and — and keep my aunt from finding
him if this nervous condition of hers leads her to try."
The young man looked steadfastly at Macurdy, and the
boy's soul, with its country simplicity and its rugged hon-
esty, was in a tumult. He had thought his experiences
as an editor of the Mail very exciting, and had felt very
wise and sophisticated; but this was quite a new phase
of worldly experience.
Then a sense of responsibility thrilled him. It was
for Jim — for Jim that he must sharpen his wits and find
out what this man really meant!
"I couldn't go for a week or more," he said, slowly.
"I should have to give Mr. Bigsby time to get another
boy to work for him."
" I shouldn't want you to go until — well, say ten days
from now — a week from next Thursday. I've got to go
farther East on business, and to find a place for you.
And I shall expect you to make things right with the
poor-house people. Of course they'll be glad enough to
get rid of him, but they'll feel bound to ask questions.
You're going to get your chance in the world — the best
chance a boy ever had — by knowing how to answer ques-
tions without telling anything."
Macurdy's cheeks burned with the guilty but half-
amused consciousness that he was just now taking his
first lesson in that art!
" I shall expect you to meet me here with Jim just be-
fore the morning train leaves, a week from Thursday.
Be ready to go, and don't come too early — these country
people are full of curiosity. And, remember, if you talk
about this to anybody, or let Jim talk, I sha'n't want'
you, "and he walked back to the station alone.
The blacksmith could not sharpen that ploughshare
until morning, and he had been bidden to stay all night.
But the blacksmith and his family went to bed yearly,
and it was only a little past nine o'clock when Macurdy
softly led old Tim out of the barn and mounted his bare'
back. Old Tim was bony, and his gait was eccentric, but
Macurdy hung on; he would have preferred to walk, but
he felt that there was not time.
A tinkle of gravel against his window and a faint clear
whistle brought Jim down from his room to the door of
the poor-house.
"Jim, try to remember— think hard !" said Macurdy,
eagerly, with one hand on Jim's shoulder and the other
holding the halter of the astonished and reluctant old
Tim. "Did you ever hear the name of Emmerton — J.
Randall Emmerton?"
Jim drew a long hard breath.
" Emmerton— oh, that's it, 'Curdy! — that's my name!
I've tried so long to remember it. I've hoped that I might
dream it. Jimmie — James Emmerton, that's who I am.
Randall Emmerton, that's who my father is."
" And you had a cousin— tall, with lightish hair but
dark eyes, and a queer smile."
"Randy, Randy! He was wild, and they sent him
away. 'Curdy, I think I have a mother like other boys.
Do you think so, 'Curdy?"
" I can't tell, Jim. I hope so. I've got to go; I'm
in an awful hurry!" Macurdy disengaged Jim's clinging
arm and jumped upon his ancient steed.
" I've got you, anyhow, 'Curdy," called Jim's soft, pa-
thetic voice.
" You've got me, anyhow, Jim," came back Macurdy's
voice in a stage-whisper, but with emphasis. And Jim
went to bed bewildered, but in happy trust, while Ma-
curdy urged old Tim just as fast as he had the heart to
do back over the road to Hebron. He roused the sleepy
telegraph operator in the Hebron station before the clock
struck ten. He wrote out with care the message that lie
wished to send:
" Mrs. Randall Emmerton, , Texas. Your son
James is in 'Scutney, Massachusetts. Come quick."
Nine words; but he had another quarter, and she might
not come unless things were quite plain. Besides, it was
worth the other quarter — the last proceeds of The ^Scnlin-i/
Mail — to add " Your nephew, J. Randall Emmerton, has
acted villionous." Macurdy wasn't sure about the spell-
ing of that last word ; the girl operator laughed.
" Sign it Editor ' Scutney Mail,'" said Macurdy, with
dignity.
"Coming. Take care of my boy," was the telegram
that Macurdy received, and at the end, " God bless you!"
It happened that the day when Jim's relatives came —
his mother and her daughter's husband — was the very
day and the very morning when the " villionous " nephew
had arranged to meet Macurdy at the same station. And
so Macurdy met him, with Jim and Jim's mother beside
him. He turned pale, and slipped away out of sight as
if'the earth had swallowed him up.
"Randall never was a good boy." Jim's mother said,
" but we never thought he could be so bad as he has shown
himself. He was to have Jimmie's share of the property
if Jimmie was never found. We never thought he would
be, because we heard from the circus company that he ran
away with that he was dead. I might never have found
my boy if it had not been for you."
She hugged and kissed Macurdy right there in the rail-
road station, and Macurdy felt — well, "pretty cheap," as
he afterwards confided to Toiji ; but nevertheless it was
the proudest day of his life, prouder even than when the
first issue of the Mail was cried about the 'Scutney streets.
They had lived in New York when Jimmie ran away
with the circus — Jimmie, who had always been delicate
and not quite like other boys, his mother further explain-
ed. After Jim's father's death Jim's mother had gone to
live with her daughter in Texas, and there the little
'Scutney paper had reached her through her neighbor,
Tom Pickering's Uncle Rafe.
"Well, we never thought the paper would do such a
great thing as that, did we?" said Tom, after Macurdy had
told him all about it. Macurdy had run over to the Mail
office as soon as his " chores " were done that noon. The
Mail had been all ready the day before, but he must help
Tom and Bing to deliver it.
He had scarcely seen Tom for a week, and only in the
brief spaces of time that he had been able to snatch for
work on the Mail, when they were both too busy to talk.
He now gloomily barred the way to the Mail office
when Macurdy would have entered. "You'd better not
go in," he said, seating himself on the upper step, and
beginning to whittle in a faint-hearted and embarrassed
way. "I thought you'd find out. Haven't you been
into the granary yet?"
" Why, no. I came over here the very first thing after
I came from Hebron, and Jim is there at the hotel with
his people. We left a lot of food for the animals in the
granary last night. Has anything happened to them?"
Macurdy's voice was husky with fear.
"Nothing has happened to them except that Sarah
Lond has got away, I s'pose, and a weasel ought to get
away. What sense is there in trying to tame a weasel?"
Tom's voice had an aggrieved tone, and he whittled M>
vigorously that the chips flew in every direction,
they've ate up the Mail."
"Ate up the Mail ?" echoed Macurdy, in bewildered
dismay.
296
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"Those gh'ls, Luella and Polly Rawson. were coming
home from an apron party at Sar' Abby Blodgett's about
half past nine o'clock last night. When they got near
the granary they heard an awful noise— something kind
of whisking 'round, and the squirrels scolding as loud
as they could. I should like to know where you were
that you didn't hear all that racket."
"I slept with Jim at the poor-house; Mrs. Bigsby had
so much company that she hud to have my room," ex-
plained Macurdy. "Sarah Loud didn't hurt the mice,
did he?" he inquired, anxiously.
"They were afraid he would— those girls were — but
when Luella had got in at the window she was scared
'most to death. Sarah'Lond had got loose, and she just
grabbed the cage of white mice and hopped out of the
window with it. She thinks Sarah Lond scooted out
after her before she shut the window, but she isn't sure.
Well, those girls just put the cage of mice in here, and it
wouldn't have done any harm if the door of the cage
hadn't come open. All those mice were scampering and
gnawing 'round in here all night!'' Tom arose and
threw open the dour in impressive silence.
Copies of the Mail, which had been arranged in a neat
pile ready for delivery, were gnawed and torn and scat-
tered about the floor; not one copy was left whole and
clean. The piles of paper ready for printing were all
gnawed at the edges, and a bottle of ink had been over-
turned upon them, and was still dripping and forming
little pools upon the floor; and the type was scattered in
all directions.
"Looks as if 'twas the end of The 'Scutney Mail, don't
it?" said Macurdy, and although he grinned broadly, there
was a quiver in his voice. "I've got something to tell
you, Tom," Macurdy went on, wilh an effort. "I know
you'll feel bad, and I do, myself, though it seems as if I'd
got a real chance at last. Jim's mother wants me to go
home with them, and she'll send me to school with Jim;
and she'll let me pay my way, so I sha'n't be beholden
to anybody. I can, you know, Tom; just give me a
chance!"
" I guess you can," responded Tom, heartily. "You're
an awful smart fellow, 'Curdy, and a square one, too! I
b'lieve you're the squares! fellow I ever knew. I hate
to have you go, but — but I guess it's all come 'round right.
I — I've got a chance myself, "Curdy!" Tom straddled
the high stool, and kicked its legs in an embarrassed way.
" More'n a week ago those Telegraph people offered me a
chance in their office. I didn't know until they told me
to-day that they'd offered it to you first. It was square
of you to stick to the Mail, 'Curdy, awful square ! I
thought I would go on to the Telegraph, and I coaxed
father till he said I might, and then I thought it wasn't
square, and I got 'em to wait. I thought I'd talk with
you about it, and then I knew you thought such a lot of
the Mail I couldn't bear to. But to-day, when it was all
ate up, and there isn't any money to buy any more paper,
why, I said I would. You see, everybody thought it was
boys' play, and it takes so long for a paper to grow up
with you —
"I'm glad you did it, Tom! You've got the makings
of an editor !" said Macurdy, feeling that there could
scarcely be higher praise. "And now I don't feel so
bad about going away."
"Maybe we'll be editors together yet" — Tom swal-
lowed a big lump in his throat, and Macurdy openly
drew his sleeve across his eyes — "on a bigger paper than
' Scutney Mail."
JIM AND HIS MOTHER UNITED.
IN THE ICE OF NEW YORK HARBOR.
" /~~\ UESSthis '11 be our last trip," said the Pilot as
VJT he gazed out of the frosted panes of the wheel-
house windows, and saw the snowflakes whirling
madly about on the ice-floes in the river ahead of
him.
"Looks like it," answered the Captain. " We've
lost seven paddles since morning, and if the ice and
snow come down the river any faster we stand a,
good chance of being stove in."
The Paunpeck was shoving out of her slip, slowly
and carefully, and as the wild rush of the tide caught
her broadside she keeled over until one of her paddle-
wheels was lifted almost entirely out of the water. The
Captain and the Pilot bent all their strength to the wheel,
and put the boat's nose three-quarters up stream. Great
heads of perspiration stood out on their brows.
"If this weather don't let up," murmured the Pilot,
prophetically, " somethin's goin' to give."
Bump! bump! bump! came the huge blocks of ice
against the side of the boat, and the wind went howling
down the stream like a cyclone, and rattled fiercely at
the wheel-house windows.
" Port a little," muttered the Captain, under his breath.
"Port it is, sir,'1 answered the Pilot, and the two men
tugged together at the wheel-spokes.
" Looks like a liner comiu' up through the snow," con-
tinued the Captain. "Can't see her very well, but if
these floes keep a-poundin' us we'd better steer well out of
her way."
" Right ye are, sir," assented the Pilot.
The ferry-boat was making slow progress. The ice in
the river was so thick that it impeded and clogged and
broke the paddles, and disturbed the working of the rud-
der, and frequently a big floe came along with irresist-
ible force, and swept the heavy Paunpeck entirely out of
her course. It was the same with every other craft that
attempted to navigate the river in this fearful storm.
Half a mile down-stream, as the Captain had said, could
be seen a huge ocean steamer, ice-coated, belching steam
and smoke from her crusted funnels, fighting her way
slowly up to her pier in the very teeth of the wind and
tide. At first the Captain of the Paunpeck had intended
to pass across her bow, for in ordinary and even in bad
weather there would have been ample space for such a
manoeuvre, but on this day of storm and blizzard he soon
realized that his boat was making such poor headway
that it would be dangerous even to attempt this. Both
boats were drawing closer and closer together. The pas-
sengers on the ferry-boat, braving the biting cold and the
howling wind, had gathered in the bow to see how near
they must come to the approaching vessel.
" Guess we can't make it," said the Pilot.
"Guess we can't," repeated the Captain; "and here
comes a big floe right down on us. We must dodge that.
Hard a starboard, and pass astern !"
Both men bent to the big mahogany wheel with all
their might. The steering-gear strained and creaked and
turned slowly, and then, suddenly, there was a loud snap,
like the report of a rifle, and both Captain and Pilot were
IP THIS WEATHER DON'T LET UP, SOMETHIN'S GOIN' TO GIVE."
thrown to the floor as the wheel went spinning around
like mad. The Pilot was the first to get to his feet again.
"Busted!" he shouted, and at the same time he pulled
the signal bell, once to stop, and then twice to reverse.
" Busted " expressed very forcibly what had happened.
The steering-gear had given way under the fearful strain
that it had been subjected to. The ferry-boat was there-
fore no longer under control, and was bearing down
rapidly on the ocean liner, directly in the path of a mon-
slrous island of ice which was rushing down-stream with
the force and velocity of an avalanche. The Captain
seized the whistle-cord and blew loud and long, in the
hope that the sailors on the steamship would understand
his predicament. But it was of no use. Part of the big
ice-floe had already crashed into the ferry-boat that was
now only a few rods distant from the liner, and was for-
cing it down-stream in spite of the heavy heaving and
wheezing of the powerful engines below. Officers and
sailors were running up and down the decks of the steamer
waving their arms and shouting, and the fog-horn began
tooting hoarsely. There was no apparent escape from
collision. The ferry-boat was charging toward the big
liner, and in less than two minutes must strike her amid-
ships. Such a blow from so heavy a craft as the 1'nini-
peck could not fail to crush a hole into the iron sides of
the steamer, and then a terrible catastrophe must result.
The pilot rushed out of the wheel-house and clambered
down into the engine-room to tell the engineer what hor-
ror threatened. The Captain shouted orders to the deck-
hands, and the greatest excitement prevailed 011 both
boats. They were now scarcely twenty-five yards apart.
But suddenly the big ice island that the Captain of the
Paunpeck had tried to avoid plunged in between the two
ships, banked itself up in front of the ferry-boat, lifting
it almost out of the water, whirled it half-way round in
a semicircle, groaned and crunched and scraped along
the side of the steamer, swished the Paunpeck with giant
strength several rods down-stream, and whirled it under
the stern of the incoming vessel scarcely fifty feet away.
A shout went up from the decks of both boats simul-
taneously, and the Captain of the Paunpeck leaned
on the dismantled steering-wheel and took a long breath.
" Pretty close, that," he muttered.
"Pretty close, sir," repeated the Pilot, and then the
boat began to work backward with the other rudder.
And yet this was only one of the many terrible experi-
ences that were undergone by the men who navigated
New York Harbor during the great storm of
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG/
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
AT SEA ONCE MORE.
THE boat came speeding up to the starboard side of the
Alma. There was no longer any doubt that the ex-
cited young man was Robert Lock wood, and in a few
seconds lie was aboard the bark and in his father's arms.
It was a deeply happy meeting for all concerned, and
none of them were ashamed to be seen wiping the tears
from their eyes.
"You are free and safe, my boy," said Captain Lock-
wood. " How did it all happen?"
" It's simple enough, father," replied Robert. " When
the Tamandare's people received Admiral da Gama's or-
der to abandon ship and take refuge on the Portuguese
man-of-war there was a scene of wild confusion. There
never was good discipline among the insurgents, and then
there was none at all. I felt sure that they wouldn't stop
to muster the crew, so I just dropped down into the fore-
peak and kept quiet till they had all gone. After that I tried
in a dozen ways to attract your attention, but of course
you supposed that the ship's company was still aboard,
and so you paid no attention. When I saw the Nictii-e-
roij coming up, I knew my chance was at hand. I suc-
ceeded in getting her to send a boat, and of course as
more than half her officers are Americans, I had the good
luck to fall in with this gentleman, Lieutenant Hunt, and
he brought me here."
Captain Lockwood warmly thanked the American, who
now returned to his ship. Robert turned and shook
hands once more with his cousin.
"Frank, old man," he said, "I don't know how to tell
you of my grief at your being wounded. If it hadn't
been for me you'd never have come down here and en-
listed."
"I can't say that, Bob, I can't say that. I was wild
for active service, and I hadn't sense enough to see that
in a foreign navy I ran the risk of being brought to quar-
ters against the flag of my own country. It's been a ter-
rible lesson to me. I'm afraid I should have come'even
if you hadn't been here, and now look at me. Out of the
service, and stranded by the failure of this miserable re-
bellion."
" Cheer up, Frank," said Hal. "I know it's been hard,
but I'm sure it was all for your good."
"Yes, I think that. I'm much changed, I believe."
"And so am I," said Robert. "Father, I ask your
forgiveness for what I've done, and I promise you that
from this time out I'll be guided by your wisdom."
" Then all this struggle hasn't been for nothing," said
Captain Lockwood.
Two or three days later Harold and George again vis-
ited the Alma, bringing Peter with them.
" We have come to say good-by, Frank," said Hal.
" YTou are going home?"
"Yes; the Detroit has been ordered to Norfolk. The
whole fleet will be scattered in a little while," said
George.
"God bless you, fellows! I wish I were going with
you."
" Well, it won't be long before you follow," said Cap-
tain Lockwood. "My anchor has rested in Rio mud
long enough. I am going back to that precious wharf
now and get my cargo."
" And then?" asked George.
"And then," replied Captain Lockwood, "I'm going
to set sail for the land of civilization. The doctor says
that Frank will improve at a twenty-knot gait now, and
in less than a week I hope to be under way for New
York."
. "Hurrah for Central Park a.nd the circus and Coney
Island !" cried George. " Oh, Frank, I wisli I were going
with you."
" We may all meet sooner than we expect," said Frank.
"You know we' had no idea that we should come to-
gether down here."
The two cadets shook hands with their friends, and
Captain Lockwood called Peter up out of the boat.
"Shake hands, my lad," he said; "an honest sea-
man's grip is what you will give and what you will
get-"
"Thank ye, sir," said Peter, "an1 a werry fair wind
an' a safe landfall to all of ye wherever you're bound in
this 'ere world, w'ich the same, as my father used to say,
it are a werry good world, takin' it by an' large, allus
pervidin' that you steecs a fair course."
When the Detroit passed out of the harbor, the Alma
and the other American merchant ships saluted her with
every mark of respect. And now Captain Lockwood has-
tened his preparations for departure. Robert busied him-
self about the deck, and showed that he had already
learned a good deal of the duty of a seaman. As for
Frank, he picked up strength hand over hand, and by
the time the bark moved out to an anchorage again he
was as well as he had ever been in his life. He was in
the best of spirits, too. He was gentle and full of fun
with his fair young cousin, whose affection for him was
deepening every day. He was full of manly regard for
his uncle, and of honest gratitude toward him. His hap-
piness manifested itself in many ways, but chiefly in
buoyant activity. He sprang about the deck, lending a
hand in the work of preparing the bark for sea. and his
skill and readiness filled Captain Lockwood's heart with
pride.
" A born sailor that boy !" he exclaimed.
"Yes, sir," Mr. Ball responded; "both of 'em, and fit
to command a ship.
"No, I'd hardly say that about Bob," said the Captain,
"and I don't care to have him so, either. But Frank
certainly is."
It happened that two days before the bark was to sail
Captain Lockwood's second mate left him to take a sud-
denly offered berth aboard a steamer. The Captain was
glad of it.
" What do you say, Frank?" he cried ; " will you serve
as my second mate on the voyage home?"
"WTill I! Why, Uncle Hiram, I'll be only too
glad."
"Then second mate of the Alma you are, my boy,"
said the old skipper, striking his horny palm into that of
his nephew with a resounding slap.
The morning chosen for the Alma's departure was
bright and beautiful, with a brisk southwesterly wind
blowing. Captain Lockwood had instructed Frank as to
the authority and responsibilities of a second mate of a
merchantman, and the boy knew just what he had to do.
Fold after fold of the Alma's creamy canvas fell to its
length and was sheeted home, while Captain Lockwood
ordered the helm a-starboard, and the anchor cleared the
ground as the jib rose from its boom. The Alma, leaned
gently over to port, and began to glide away toward the
narrow entrance of the harbor, beyond which the rich
blue of the South Atlantic spread a living carpet for her
tread.
" Get a pull on the fore and main braces !" called the
Captain.
"Ay. ay, sir." answered Frank's fresh young voice,
as the boy led his men to their work. " Now, my bullies,
bowse her down."
* Begun iu HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 784.
FEBRUARY 26, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
299
"Born sailor, that boy," said Captain Lock wood half
aloud.
"And fit to command a ship," murmured Minnie,
echoing the favorite sentiment of the first mate.
The bark was on a taut bowline, and turning the lucent
blue into streaks of silver as she smoked out past Fort
Santa Cruz.
" No one to fire on us going out," said the Captain.
"And I am as free as a flying-fish," laughed Bob.
"I should think so," said Minnie. "They must be
glad to get rid of us all."
"Poor wretches!" exclaimed her father, thinking of the
insurgents, sick and wounded, penned up on the Portu-
guese war-sli ips.
" And I might have been one of them," said Frank.
The young second mate had the first dog-watch, and
both Captain Lockwood and Mr. Ball studiously avoided
the deck, and allowed the boy full command. There was
little or nothing for him to do, except to heave the log and
keep the record. In that work, however, he could have
given instruction to both the older seamen, for he was ail
expert navigator. Minnie was on hand to watch him at
his duties, and she was of the opinion that he was the
finest young officer she had ever seen.
" The lad '11 have the first watch," said Mr. Ball.
"Yes," said the Captain, "and I shouldn't be surprised
if he had a chance to show what lie knows. These south-
westerly winds 'often freshen at night in these latitudes."
As for Frank, he had already detected signs of growing
strength in the breeze, but the Alma was a great sail-
carrier, and it did not take him long to find it out.
Nearly through the first dog-watch he let her boil through
it with her royals on, but at the last moment he decided
that though she could carry them she would do as well
without them. So he sung out:
"Aloft to furl royals ! Man the royal clewlines, flying-
jib downhaul! Haul taut! In royals, down flying-jib!
Furl the royals! Stow the flying-jib!"
"Listen to him, "said Captain Lockwood, in the cabin.
"He's doing it in man-o'-war style."
"Bless you, sir, he'll soon get over that. You see, he
knows how to do it, anyhow."
The sailors by this time knew that their young second
mate was a thorough seaman, and they obeyed him with
a will. When Frank went on deck again for the first
watch he found that the wind was gaining in power all
the time, and -that Mr. Ball had furled the top-gallants.
An hour later the boy decided that the courses ought to
be taken in, so he sent word to the Captain, who at once
came on deck and gave the necessary orders. It now be-
came Frank's duty to go aloft and take the bunt of the
mainsail. If he had shown any lack of strength or skill
it would have been no great disgrace, for second mates are
not always the best sailors. But the seamen who lay out
on the main yard with Frank found that the Annapolis
training was sound. The boy knew his business and had
plenty of strength. The sail was taken in with neatness
and despatch.
"Well done, Frank!" shouted the Captain, when the
boy regained the deck.
" Oh, Uncle Hiram," he said, "I feel as if I could haul
up the main-topsail reef tackle of an old-time line-of-bat-
tle ship all by myself."
"You do?"
"Yes, sir. I am no longer in the service of a foreign
power. I've got an American keel under me, and I'm
bound for an American port."
" I'm glad you're so happy, my boy."
"Happy! Bless you, Uncle Hiram, I'm overjoyed. I
feel that I am going back to New York to begin life over
again, to take it up where I made the false start, and to
try to do better. I've learned my lesson, sir, and I'll not
forget it. Go it, old bark ! You're making a dozen knots
an hour and taking one fellow away from the scene of
his greatest folly."
"Two, Frank, "said Robert, taking his cousin's hand.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
A HAPPY REUNION.
A YEAR had passed since the events reported in the
opening chapter of this story. The brave American
fleet which had assembled in the harbor of Rio de Janeiro
to protect the interests of United States citizens had scat-
tered far and wide. The San Francisco had gone to
Nicaragua, where internal dissensions placed Americans
in jeopardy, and she had in a short time been followed by
the armored cruiser New York. The Detroit had gone
back to the navy-yard at. Norfolk, whence she had set
forth with our two young friends on their first cruise in
the active service of the flag, and the good little ship was
undergoing needed repairs. The Alma had reached New
York after a quick passage, discharged her cargo, and
made a short voyage to Halifax and back. Mr. Ball had
resigned his post for a comfortable berth ashore, and
Frank had been promoted to the position of first mate.
He had learned to like the merchant service, and seeing
no other vocation open to him at the time, had gratefully
accepted the appointment from his uncle. Robert, steadied
by his own unhappy experience, had yielded to his father's
wish that he should remain ashore, and was now a clerk
in the Captain's office, with a fine prospect of succeeding to
his father's business.
The bark was lying at a wharf on the East River front,
preparing for a new voyage to South American porls, ''
with Rio de Janeiro as her final destination. Frank was
as busy as a bee superintending the preparations. Captain
Lockwood was aboard the vessel, but he contented him-
self with sitting in the cabin or in a big chair under an
awning spread over the quarter-deck, for an old enemy,
rheumatism, the result of many years of exposure to wind
and rain, had possession of him. Minnie had come down
from the house, and it had been decided that they should
all dine aboard the bark. Suddenly the clatter of rapidly
approaching footsteps was heard, and a voice sang out
from the wharf,
"Aboard the Alma!"
Frank turned his head, and to his great surprise and
joy saw Harold King, George Briscomb, and Peter Mor-
ris standing opposite the vessel waving their hats. The
cadets were in civilian clothing, but every movement
betokened their familiarity with salt water.
" Hello, fellows !" shouted Frank. " Come aboard !"
The boys sprang up the gang-plank and threw their
arms around Frank.
" Bless you, old man !" said Harold. "How well you
look!"
" I should say so!" said George. "You don't look like
the ghost we left in Rio Harbor."
" Beggin' your pardon, sir," said Peter, "but you looks
like you owned most o' the East River, an' could borrow
the North without givtn' no security."
"Where's the. Captain?" asked Hal.
"And your pretty cousin?" added George.
" They're both in the cabin."
" Let's give them a surprise, Hal," said George.
The next minute the two boys tumbled into the cabin
like two young bears.
"How are you, Captain?" cried George, seizing the
mariner's big hand and shaking it enthusiastically.
"Avast there, boy; I've got the rheumatics!" cried
the seaman, laughing in spite of the twinges.
"And how's the sailor girl?" demanded George.
"Oh, we're all well and happy," said Minnie, flushed
with excitement and pleasure at the meeting.
" Did you see Frank?" asked the Captain.
300
HAKPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
'KUN IT UP," SAID FRANK, TAKING OFF 1I1S CAP AND FACING AFT.
"Yes, we certainly did," answered Hal.
" And did you notice what he was up to?"
" Seemed to me to be a sort of Rear-Admiral of the
whole business," said George.
" He's my first mate," said the Captain, proudly.
" You don't mean it!" exclaimed Hal, with a delig-hted
face.
" Yes, and a better one I never had, " declared the Cap-
tain, emphatically.
"That's fine news," said the cadet.
" And now I want you boys to stay and have dinner
with us," said the Captain.
"Aboard the Alma?"
" Yes."
"Well, sir, there's nothing in the world could give us
greater pleasure at this minute!" exclaimed Hal.
" Minnie, girl, you go and tell Kibo that we're going
to have a dinner-party, and we want the best he can set
out, because it's the chief mate's birthday."
"Frank's birthday?" cried the young men.
"Yes; he's twenty-one today, and it's going to be a
red-letter day."
" Let's go and congratulate him," said George.
The two boys bounded out on deck and shook Frank's
hand till he was sore.
" We wish you many happy returns of the day, old
man."
" Thank you, fellows. I'd like it to come pretty often
if it would bring you with it."
Then the two young men ran back to the cabin and
shook hands with the Captain, and congratulated him on
having such a good fellow as Frank fora nephew.
" He is a good boy and a fine seaman, and that un-
happy experience of his in the Brazilian insurgent navy
has steadied and made a man of him."
An hour passed, and Kibo, the cook, had the dinner
ready. Robert had been sent for and was heartily greeted
by the cadets. In some mysterious way, which could be
attributed only to Minnie, some pretty flowers appeared
on the table, and the cabin was filled with
the perfume of summer and youth. Seated
at the head of bis generous board Captain
Lockwood had a beneficent smile.
"Children." he said. "I'm free to say
thisis one of the brightestdays I'veknown
in a reasonably prosperous life. I'm about
to propose the health of my dear nephew."
"Hear! hear!" shouted Peter, who had
not been left out of the happy gathering.
"What I desire to do," continued the
Captain, " is to have my two boys — for
Frank's as good as a son to me —
"And a brother to me," said Bob.
" Don't interrupt," said the Captain.
"I want these two boys to carry on my
business after I'm a sheer hulk. So, Bob,
I'd like to know if you're willing to have
me give Frank an interest in the busi-
ness?"
" Yes, and a big one, too," said Bob,
heartily.
"No, no; share and share alike. From
this day you each have half."
" Oil, Uncle Hiram!" exclaimed Frank.
"Hear! hear!" shouted Peter, again.
" Avast there, my hearty !" said the Cap-
tain, laughing. "I'm getting along in
years, and I've got rheumatism, and I
guess I'd better stay ashore after this. So
I want you all to stand up and give three
cheers for the youngest merchant skipper
in America, Captain Frank Lockwood, of
the bark Alma."
"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the two boys.
For a few seconds Frank was pale and silent. Then
he said, " Uncle Hiram, do you put me in command of
this bark?"
"Yes; and you're the only member of her company
that didn't know it till this minute."
" Let us go on deck," said Frank, gravely.
They passed out of the cabin, and the crew, knowing
what had happened, gave Frank a cheer. He lifted bis
cap and said,
"Quartermaster, get the ensign and bend it on the
halyards."
The order was obeyed.
"Run it up," said Frank, taking off his cap and fac-
ing aft, while the others imitated him.
When the flag reached the peak of the spanker-gaff he
put on his cap, turned and wrung his uncle's hand.
"Uncle Hiram," he said, "I'll do my best to deserve
the trust you have reposed in me. Every morning at
eight bells that flag will go up and every evening at sun-
set it will come down, and as I shall never again be un-
faithful to it, so I shall never be unfaithful to you."
He turned to the two cadets and grasped their hands.
" Fellows, you've been real friends. Hal, if I'd been as
cool and steady as you I'd never have turned my back
on the flag."
" But you've had your punishment, old man, and now
the future is bright before you."
" Bob," said Frank, turning and clasping his cousin's
hand, "you and I have got a good deal more than we
deserve, but we'll try to make your father feel that he's
done, wisely, won't we?"
"That we will," replied Bob.
And then Minnie, with her eyes full of tears, ran up
and kissed both of them.
" Jee-whiz!" exclaimed Peter; "as my mother used to
say w'en she were eatiu' huckleberry pie, ' This 'ere's
good 'uuff fur me.' "
CHILDREN'S DANCING CLASSES.
BY MRS. A. T. ASIIMORE.
NATURAL dancing, like natural grace, it is well
proved in these days, does not exist, and tlie greatest
care and, pains are taken to train children to be graceful
and to dance well, to walk well, and to carry themselves
well. It would seem to those who have not looked thor-
oughly into the subject that every one must needs know
how to enter a room or to walk across it, but never was
there such a mistake. The man or woman who enters
with apparently untrained steps and unconsciously grace-
ful carriage is the one who has been most conscientiously
trained for years, and who places his or her foot, holds
his or her head and shoulders correctly according to the
rules laid down.
There is a point in dispute as to whether it is best to
send children of very tender years to dancing- school,
or whether they do not learn more quickly when they
are eight or ten years old, and have to some extent
acquired the knowledge of how to learn. There are, of
course, arguments, apparently convincing ones, advanced
on either side. The children who learn when they are
very young do not, perhaps, acquire the art so readily,
but they do become accustomed to it, and have not to un-
learn awkward faults, as do the older ones who have
walked, run, or pranced about in total ignorance of how
they should develop their muscles to the best advantage.
To go to dancing-school is as much part of the educa-
tion of a New York child as to study "reading, 'riling,
and 'rithmetic," and at most of the children's parties
which are now given dancing is as much a feature as
were the old-fashioned games that all played a few years
ago. Miniature men and women, indeed, do some of the
youngsters appear at these parties, but they enter into the
dancing with their whole heart and soul, and evidently
Hud lots of fun in it.
Several of the dancing-teachers are women who have
studied the teaching of dancing as a profession, and who
in consequence are thoroughly drilled in all points.
There is one teacher who has been a danseuse, and she is
exceedingly graceful, and teaches many fancy steps winch
are not included in the regular curriculum of dancing
lessons. Several classes are taught by her, but they are
of older children who have first been instructed in what
might be called the A B C of dancing, and know how
to dance the waltz, polka, and one or two of the simpler
steps.
Sherry's ballroom, where so many of the "grown-up"
dances are held, is a favorite place for the children's
classes, and while the rooms present a very brilliant scene
on the evenings when the entertainments are given, it is
an open question as to whether they do not present an
even more attractive appearance when sixty or seventy
little folk are being taught.
The teacher, a young girl, stands near the door, and as
each child enters the room he or she makes a low bow or
courtesy, which is acknowledged by a deep courtesy from
the teacher. Then tke boys go to their seats at one side
of the room, while the girls go to the other. They are
always aheacj of time, for dancing-school is voted good
fun, and they are one and all anxious not to lose any of
the two hours allotted to the lesson.
When it is half after ten, the hour for the lesson to be-
gin, the teacher calls, "Third and fourth classes," and
the beginners and those who find it hard to learn stand
up. Such a pretty picture as these rows of children pre-
sent! In the front row are the wee ones, some not older
than four years. The boys in sailor or Eton suits, with
hair parted in the middle and plastered down in the most
dudelike way, their faces and ears shining — the latter
generally quite crimson — their hands incased in white
kid gloves, and an air of excitement that is amusing to
see. The girls are very simply but tastefully dressed,
and the tiny ones on the first line, with big puffed sleeves
almost as large as themselves, look marvellously like
young robins as they hop up and down, first on one foot
302
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
and then on the other, keeping or trying to keep time to
the music. The usual uncertainty prevails as to which
is the right and which the left foot, and at first there is
apt to be some confusion as they bump into one another
in their efforts to do just as the teacher does; but, birdlike,
they do not mind, and hop along just as happy as ever.
It is quite curious liow they manage to keep time. The
music, which consists of a piano, is played in very strong-
ly accentuated time, to be sure, but still it is remarkable
how they manage to take the steps just at the right mo-
ment. After they have stood in line for a short time
learning the steps the boys are told to take partners for
a march around the room. Being boys, they make a rush
for the girls in quite a childlike way, but as soon as they
get in front of the partner they wish to secure they
straighten and make the most conventional of bows,
which the little maids answer by deep sweeping courtesies.
What the law is which induces the largest boys to choose
the smallest girls is unknown. The fact remains that
they always do, so there is some slight delay while the
teacher arranges them more in accord with their size.
The march is then played, and the procession around the
room begins. Very stately and graceful, it is like the
minuet steps, while each child must hold himself or her-
self as erect as possible.
After the march each little cavalier leads his partner
back to her seat, makes a stately bow, and then in true
boy fashion slides across the room back to his own place.
When the first and second classes are called the older
and more proficient pupils stand up and are instructed in
the mysteries of the more fancy dances. "Step, step,
slide, and hop," they go over it again and again, until
the teacher considers they have thoroughly understood
the lesson, and they are then allowed to take partners
and dance around the room. The court quadrille, a
stately dance iu which are all the fancy steps, is the last
on the programme before the final march, which always
ends the lesson, as it begins it. The boys again bow to
their partners, and also to the teacher, and leave the room
with much dignity, and in five seconds are pummelling
one another in the dressing-room in quite a different
fashion from the solemn and dignified manner in which
they left the ballroom.
The girls seem to be more impressed with the solem-
nity of the occasion, and even in the dressing-room are
sedate and demure, and somewhat conscious of their
clothes, but the unconsciousness of their childhood is not
lost. One small girl asks another if she has not had a
lovely time, and the other answers: "Oh yes, and I had
such nice partners. The first dance a boy asked me to
dance with him, and that was 'fine,' and the next dance
nobody asked me, so I walked up to some little boys
and asked them if they wouldn't like to dance with me.
And they said indeed they would, and so we all enjoyed
ourselves." And the little maid was as happy as possible,
quite unconscious that when she grew older and went to
grown-up dances she would have no such liberty, but
would have to wait until she was asked.
The two hours devoted to the lesson go very quickly,
and there is never any difficulty in making the children
go to the class. Dancing is a natural expression in all
sorts and conditions of life, and from the little ragged
children dancing in the street to the music of the barrel
organs, to the carefully nurtured sons and daughters of
more wealthy parents, one and all love the exercise and
excitement.
JACK'S TRICK.
" TACK always was clever and quick-witted," said bis grand-
tr mother, somewhat proudly, to tlie other elderly ladies who
sat about the tea table, " but he did the cleverest thing of his
life last Christmas at dinner. He did it so well that uo one ever
knew it until he told us about it himself later in the evening.
"There were about a dozen of us at the table, and we had
enjoyed a regular old-fashioned Christmas dinner. The only
stranger present was a Mexican gentleman, a business friend of
Jack's father, who had merely been invited because lie was alone
in a strange country, and would otherwise have had t<> eat his
Christinas dinner at a restaurant. He \vus a tall, thin, dark-
skinned, dark-eyed, dark-haired man, and I did not like him the
moment I laid eyes on him. But he was a very polite person,
and kept bowing and smiling at all of us all during tbe dinner.
"Of course we had plum-pudding for dessert, and it being a
liieat occasion, we ate tbe pudding with the beautiful gold
spoons that my grandmother, almost a hundred years ago,
brought over from Holland.
"The Mexican seemed to admire them very much, and asked
many questions about them. Then we ate our pudding,
and we forgot about the golden spoons while listening to queer
stories of life in Mexico, told in broken English by our guest.
" I did not notice it at the time, but I remembered afterwards
that Jack seemed to be nervous and fidgety all this time, and
pret ty soon ho began juggling with bis knife and fork, and toss-
ing up oranges, and making nuts disappear in the air.
"Jack always was clever at sleight-of-hand tricks, and we
thciuglit he wanted to display his ability before the stranger, so
we allowed him to do his tricks, and we applauded at each one.
When he had secured the attention of every one at the table he
began talking in the exaggerated manner of showmen, and as-
serted that he would now take anything on the table and make
it travel through the air unseen. He said lie thought one of
the gold spoons would make the most rapid journey, and he
picked up the one beside his plate, and pretended to wrap it up
iu his napkin.
"'Now I want yon all to be sure,' lie said, 'that there is no
one in collusion with me in the performance of this trick. I
shall try to make a success of it without for a moment incurring
your suspicion. I shall make the spoon travel through the air
and lodge in a certain place, and then to prove that there is no
deception on my part, and that I really have made the spoon
travel through the air, I will let Bessie get it and show it to
you.'
"Bessie is Jack's little sister, you know, and she is only live
years old. She sat next to him at the table on a high chair, and
wore a little white sleeveless dress, so that it was impossible, of
course, for her to hide the spoon up her sleeve. She was de-
lighted at the idea of taking part iu tbe trick. In the mean
while Jack had in some way made the spoon disappear, and he
shook the napkin out, and showed us that it was gone.
"'Abracadabra,' he muttered, with much show of mystery.
'The spoon has flown through the air, and Bessie will now go
and seek it. She will find it in the breast pocket of the Sefior
from Mexico.'
"The Mexican looked startled, and said it was absurd to try
to do that; that there could be no spoon in bis pocket, and
that he would not allow the little 'angel girl' to search. But
Jack insisted that it was only a trick, and that he had chosen
to have the spoon fly into the guest's pocket because no one
would believe in his powers of magic if he bad named the
pocket of one of his own relatives. But the Mexican kept on
protesting, and became very red in the face, and we all had to
persuade him to allow little Bessie to look and see if the spoon
had flown into his pocket. Finally, after a great fuss, he con-
sented, and Bessie put her little arm into his breast pocket, and
first pulled out a handkerchief and then a spoon.
"'It is a trick, a disgusting trick!' exclaimed the Mexican,
and he really appeared vexed at Jack's cleverness. Jack, how-
ever, appeared immensely pleased, and Bessie was delighted.
"When bedtime came, and the children were dragged awav
from their Christmas presents, I told Jack he was a very clever
boy with his tricks.
"'Clever nothing!' exclaimed Jack, iu atone of boyish dis-
gust. 'I saw the Dago put the spoon iu his pocket when be
thought no one was looking; and I just made up my mind lie
was not going to carry off one of your grandma's Dutch spoons.
The only way I could think of getting it without making a tnss
was to pretend to do a trick. If the trick bad not worked,
though,' concluded Jack, ' I would not have let him get out of
the house with that spoon anyway. I would have spilled some-
thing all over his coat, so he would have had to send it down to
tbe kitchen to dry, or something like that.'
"'That's the kind of a grandson to have,' remarked the old
lady ; and you may be sure that after Jack's father had heard
the story he never had any further dealings with his Mexican
guest."
FEBRUARY 20, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
303
WHERE THE TROLLS ARE BUSY.
BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER.
T7l,THERE the trolls are busy,
Underneath the snow,
There is stirring, there is whirring,
Of flowers that yet will blow.
The little trolls are spinning
The crocus garments gay,
Cups of hone}', colors sunny,
To see the light one day.
Beneath the great oak's foot, dears,
And by the frozen stream,
On her pillow Pussywillow
Is waking from a dream.
For, oh ! the trolls are busy,
When wintry breezes blow,
Weaving flowers for summer hours,
Deep down beneath the snow.
THE STRANGE
ADVENTURES OF TOMMY
TODDLES.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTEU XI.
THE Sheep stepped up to the house and knocked on the door
with his gold-headed cane, and when the Penguin came in
person to see what was wanted, he introduced Tommy and the
ex-Pirate.
" We have come," began the Sheep, " to—
But the Penguin interrupted him, and said, in a nervous,
jerky manner: " I hope you will excuse me, but I am very busy
jnst at present. If you will come in and sit down I shall be
through with my work in a short while, and will then be able
to spare yon a few moments of my very valuable time."
So saying, he nodded his head to each one of them and hur-
ried back into his office, where he climbed on a high stool,
leaned over his desk, and began to write assiduously. He
wrote so fast that every few minutes his pens gave out from
sheer friction ; but the editor had a Porcupine tied to his stool,
and every time a pen broke he leaned over and pulled a quill
out of the captive at his feet. The only fun the Porcupine
seemed to get out of life was to roll over and jab the office C;ii-
fish in the ribs every time, he got a chance, a proceeding which
was not only exceedingly distasteful to the office Cattish, but
it likewise greatly annoyed and disturbed the Penguin. The
only other living being in the editorial-room was the printer's
Devil-fish, who seemed to be compositor, pressman, proof-reader,
and everything else all rolled into- one. He was the busiest
creature Tommy had seen since he bade good- by to the Reform-
ed Burglar. Occasionally, when the Crabs made so much of a
racket outside that the Penguin could no longer hear the wheels
turning in his head, the printer's Devil-fish would leave his work
and spare a minute to jump up ou the window-sill and shout:
"See here, you newsboys^ out there! If you don't make less
noise I'll have you all deviled."
" What does he mean by that T' asked Tommy.
" Haven't you ever heard of deviled Crabs T' said the ex-Pirate.
"Yes; but how can the printer's Devil-fish devil Crabs?"
"You ought to hear him sometimes," remarked the Sheep.
Then, reflectively, "Those newsboys are a bad lot."
"Are the Crabs the newsboys?" queried the little boy.
" Surely. They have to be. They are the only ones who can
run around as easily ou land as under water. They distribute
the extras along the shore, and they also skim along the bottom
of the sea and up the rivers, and sell the papers to the fishes. I
guess the Penguin is getting out an extra now. That's why
he's so busy."
" We forgot to ask him who won," put in the ex-Pirate.
"Well, let's go out and ask the Gargoyle about it."
"Do you think we can get him to come off the roof?"
"I guess so. He must be in good humor to-day; the sun is
out."
"Is not he good-humored unless the sun is out?" asked
Tommy.
" No, indeed. The Gargoyle is greatly influenced and affected
by the weather. On cloudy days he is glum and morose and
disagreeable, and won't speak to any one; and on rainy days he
becomes very sad and weeps."
Whereupon, without warning, the ex-Pirate began :
The Gargoyle roosts fantastically
Upon the curling eaves,
His head thrust out bombastically
At all things he perceives.
His stony eyes stare steadily
At everything below,
And when it rains they readily
Shed, a quart of tears or so.
Thus every rainy evening,
While his lonely watch lie keeps,
He blinks his sad and solemn eyes,
And mournfully he weeps.
"I had never noticed that about Gargoyles," remarked Tom-
my, " but I suppose it must be true."
"Of course it's true," exclaimed the ex-Pirate, who was in-
clined to take Tommy's half-implied doubt as a personal injury.
"If yon don't believe it ask the Gargoyle."
They all three stepped out in front of the house, and the
Sheep, bowing politely to the Gargoyle up above him, asked him
if he would not come off the roof.
"I will, with the greatest of pain," replied the Gargoyle,
blinking his red eyes at the Sheep. Then he began to move
along down the edge of the pediment slowly and awkwardly.
"He's got the rheumatism badly, "said the ex-Pirate.
•• What can you expect?" retorted the Sheep. "He stays out
all night. No wonder he has the rheumatism."
"And he is all covered with moss," remarked Tommy.
" Oh, that's nothing," said the Sheep. " That's merely a sign
of his green old age."
The Gargoyle slipped carefully down one of the pillars, and
hobbled stiffly over to where Tommy and his friends were seated
in the sand ou the opposite side of the house from where the
Crabs were making so much noise, and with a series of grunts
and moans he sat down himself.
"It's all right," he began, "as soon as I get fixed; but it's no
fun getting tixed."
Tummy got near enough to the Gargoyle to feel of him, and ho
found that he was as hard and as cold as a stone. The little
boy, of course, had marvelled at hearing the animals converse,
but words from a stone image filled his cup of amazement to the
brim. This brief interval of wonderment and reflection drew
his mind back to the point he had started from (viz., his stray
animals), and he bethought him, with a twinge of conscience,
that for some time past he had neglected to make the diligent
inquiries he should have made along the route. So he hastened
t<> speak to the Gargoyle before the ex-Pirate had time to put
his question about the result of the duel.
" Have yon seen any animals to-day 1" Mr. Gargoyle.
"Crowds of animals; I never saw so many in all my existence,
and I have been carved a long while."
"Did yon see my animals?"
"What are they like?"
This was a poser for Tommy, because he felt that he really
did not know what his toys were like, since they had taken it
upon themselves to grow up and become animated and walk
away. So he answered, non-commiltally :
"Oh, just like animals," which conveyed but little informa-
tion to the Gargoyle. Then, in the brief pause that followed,
the ex-Pirate jumped into the conversation with his questions:
"The animals were here to see the duel, I suppose."
" Exactly."
"And who won?"
"Who won ?" exclaimed the Gargoyle, in amazement. "The
Peuguiu, of course. He is getting out an extra, now, with an
account of the fight in it. It is to be illustrated with pictures
of himself and of the Sword-fish, and the Sword-fish's father and
mother and his two little daughters, and the rocks near which
he was born, and the school books he used when he was a little
Sword-fish, and all sorts of things that have nothing to do with
the matter at hand."
" Indeed." said the Sheep.
"Certainly," continued the Gargoyle, " and I suggested the
head-line for the main story myself."
"What is it?"
304
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
A LITTLE PHILANTHRO-
PIST.
"WHY, Robbie, where
are your rubbers ? Didn't
you wear them to-day?"
"Yessiim; but coniiu'
home I met a poor man who
said he hadn't had anything
to eat for two days, aud as
I hadn't any money, I gave
him my rubbers."
CERTITUDE.
' I KNOW that this corn-
starcli is frozen."
And as Tommy this
speechlet delivers,
'Oh! how do you know ?"
asks his mother.
"Why, because, mamma,
see how it shivers !"
A LITTLE GIRL'S REASON.
" I'M glad I don't own all
the dolls in the world," said
Mahrl ; " because, you know,
if I did, I couldn't possibly
have another."
WHAT HE WANTED.
"PAPA," said Jiimnieboy,
as he watched the new ca-
nary with much interest,
" when that bird dies can I
have his whistle!"
EDITORIAL ROOM OF THE "TIDAL WAVE."
" It is brief and to the point. It sums up the whole situation
in one sentence, thus,
'"THE PENGUIN IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD-FISH.'"
"That's pretty good," said the ex-Pirate ; " but, you know, we
have not heard anything at all about the duel yet. And you
must have had a splendid view of it from the house-top. Won't
you tell us something about it?"
"Certainly," answered the Gargoyle, good-naturedly. "But
afterwards you must buy a Tidal JTuve extra, and read about it
for yourselves."
They agreed to do this, aud the Gargoyle then begau to relate
the incidents of the fight.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
"B
make
iniuj;,
CONCERNING THE GOOSE.
" DOESN'T this goose seem
to be as tough as rubber,
papa?"
" Yes, Bertie, it does."
it I don't suppose, papa, that his rubber is so much to
him tough, as it is to keep him dry wheu he goes swim-
is it?"
A LIKENESS.
1 LIKE the little skeeters
That come buzzing 'bout my ears,
Though sometimes when they bite me
My eyes fill up with tears.
They're really so courageous,
So lively, so defiant,
They make me think that they are Jack,
Aud I'm a great big giant.
Ji
' *{! • ' \
'
THE AFRICAN EXPLORER.
"AU, A BEAUTIFUL SPECIMEN OF TUB COBRA. ONR WKLT..-AI MUD BLOW AT THE I1EAU AND-
TIGER, B'GOSH !"
HARPE
TONG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1895, by HAHPKH & BROTHERS. All Riglita Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEKKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 801.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, MARCH 5. 1805.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLAIIS A YEAR.
THE NATIVE PILOT DESERTS HIS POST. — SEE NEW SERIAL
SNOW= SHOES AND SLEDGES.
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
A Sequel to "The Fur-Seal's Tcoth."
BY KIRK M U N R O E,
AUTHOR OF " DORYMATES," " CAMPMATES," " RAFTMATES," " CANOEMATES," ETC.
CHAPTER I.
ALLOWED TO SPEAK FOR THEMSELVES.
OF course, if every reader of this story had also read
its forerunner there would be no need of intro-
ducing its characters, for they would already be old
friends. We would merely meet them at the place
where they have been patiently awaiting us all this'time,
give them an encouraging nod of recognition, and tell
them to go ahead with their adventures as fast as they
pleased. That would be well enough for us who are
acquainted with them; but to those who may chance to
read this sequel without having first read the story that
gives it a reason for being, the references to people, things,
and incidents of the past that must necessarily be made
from time to time would be confusing. Therefore it
seems fitting that those characters of the previous story
who are to figure with any prominence in this one should
be properly introduced; and in order to avoid the dis-
criminating partiality of the author, who would be apt to
say too much concerning those whom he fancied, or too
little about those whom he disliked, each one shall be
given the privilege of introducing himself. To begin
with, here is our old friend Phil Ryder.
"Yes, that is my name right enough. As to myself,
if any one cares to know who I am, and where I am,
and how I got here, I am the son of Mr. John Ryder,
of New London, Connecticut. He is a mining expert,
and is at present engaged in investigating some properties
near Sitka, Alaska, where I was to have joined him last
May. It is now September, and I haven't got there yet,
though I have been ti-avelling steadily ever since April,
and trying my very best to reach Sitka. I'm sure it isn't
my fault that things have happened to take me most
everywhere else, and finally to drop me away up here in
northern Alaska, two thousand miles or so beyond Sitka.
I'm on the right track now, though, for I am on a steam-
boat belonging to Mr. Hamer, bound up the Yukon River.
It will take me to the head of navigation. Then all I
shall have to do will be to cross the Divide to Chilkat and
take another steamer for Sitka, which place I expect to
reach before the winter is over. Then my father's anx-
iety will be relieved, for, I suppose, he is anxious, though
I can't see why he should be."
" I am Serge— Serge Belcofsky, born in Sitka long after
Alaska became part of the United States. I went to school
there, of course, but after graduating I still longed for a
better education than Sitka afforded. So I shipped aboard
a homeward-bound whaler for New London, Connecticut,
where I went to school for a year. There I met Phil
Ryder, who was not only the most popular fellow and
the best athlete in the whole school, but who became the
best friend I ever had. If he wasn't, I should never have
given him the fur-seal's tooth which a Chilkat chief gave
to my father. On his death my mother gave it to me,
and soon after it passed into Phil's hands he lost it.
Since then it has turned up so many times, in such mys-
terious ways, and has had so much to do with shaping
our fortunes, that I can't help believing at least part of
the old tales concerning it. Anyhow, the way it has
managed to follow us right up to date is certainly won-
derful. It isn't likely that we shall see it again, though,
now that the old Eskimo has got hold of it, for he evident-
ly realizes its value. But, as Mr. Coombs says —
"Hold hard there, hearty! You may allow that I'm
a thousand miles away; but I'm not. And when it comes
to taking words out of my very mouth you'll find that I'm
right alongside. As my friend old Kite Roberson uster
say, ' A man what can't speak up for hisself hadn't orter
be allowed to vote.' My name is Jalap Coombs, half
Yankee and half British subject, late mate of the Sea-
men-, now acting Cap'ti of the schooner Philomeel, in
which me and Mr. Ryder is searching for the slippery
young chaps what has jest now introduced theirselves.
Awhile ago we thought we had 'em, but things happened,
and now we're all at sea again without an idee of how the
wind '11 blow next. But as old Kite uster offen say,
'When you don't know what to do, the best thing is to
do nothing.' That is what we are liable to do for some
time, seeing as the Philomeel are hard and fast aground
on a mud bank, with a nor' wind blowing all the water
outer Norton Sound."
"Although I am the Fur-seal's Tooth, and now in the
hands of a wretched Eskimo, I propose to leave him very
shortly to continue my travels until I reach my proper
resting-place, and to exert a very considerable influence
upon the forth-coming story. If you doubt my word, just
bear me in mind and watch for my appearance."
CHAPTER II.
A DANGEROUS BERTH OFF YUKON MOUTH.
EIGHTY miles south of Redoubt St. Michaels, the one
lonely trading-station of that bleak northern coast, the
mighty Yukon pours forth its turbid flood, discoloring
the waters of Bering Sea for one hundred miles offshore.
In point of size, as measured by length, the Yukon ranks
seventeenth among the rivers of the world, and fifth
among those of the United States, but its volume of water
is computed to be equal to that of the Mississippi, while,
like the Father of Waters, it is constantly eating away
its own banks and tearing them down acres at a time
along its entire length. Thus it has become a shoal
stream of immense width, crowded with islands and sand-
bars, on all of which are huge stacks of bleached drift-
wood piled up by spring-time floods. In the neighbor-
hood of its fanlike, many-mouthed delta the tawny giant
has deposited its muddy sediment for so many ages that
it has created hundreds of square miles of low swamp
lands, on which only coarse grasses and stunted willows
grow. In the early summer these vast swamps afford
safe breeding -places for millions of swans,1 ducks, and
geese. Here also are produced such incredible swarms
of mosquitoes that neither human beings nor animals
dare penetrate their watery solitudes. Nor are mosqui-
toes confined to the Yukon delta; but its entire valley
is so infested with them that summer is a season to be
dreaded by whites and natives alike. Even the wild
animals of its forests retreat to the snow-clad mountains,
so that there is little or 110 game to be procured between
spring and autumn. The only compensation of the sea-
soil is that it brings the finest salmon of the world into
the river in such vast shoals that every dweller within
one hundred miles of its banks may from them lay in
his year's supply of food by the labor of a single month.
In the summer, too, the four or five trade-boats — all
light draught, stern-wheeled steamers like the Chimo —
that ply on the river make their annual trips with pro-
visions, goods, and an eight- months' accumulation of
mail, carrying joy to lonely mission stations and trading-
posts, native villages, and distant mining -camps. On
their return in the fall they are freighted with gold-dust
and the spoils of the most prolific fur-producing district
now left to the world.
MARCH 5, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
307
These things formed the principal topics of conversa-
tion in the pilot-house of the sturdy little Chimo as,
aided by a strong north wind, she swept down the deso-
late coast of Norton Sound. The six-by-seven-foot en-
closure was occupied by Gerald Hamer, the stalwart lead-
er of the expedition, by Phil and Serge, and by an Eskimo
pilot, who had been obtained at St. Michaels. The two
boys were in there for warmth, for the season was late
September, which in that latitude is very close to the
beginning of winter, and the brisk north wind held so
keen an edge that no one remained on deck unless forced
to do so.
Gerald Hamer was there to watch his native pilot, in
whom he had little confidence. He was also uneasy
concerning his boat, which had been put together in the
greatest haste on the beach, just beyond the Redoubt, in
the face of all possible annoyance from its inmates; they
being devoted to the cause of the already established com-
pany, were determined that no other trader should gain
a foothold in the country if they could prevent it.
Being anxious to obtain the good-will of the natives
from the outset, Gerald Hamer had allowed a number of
them who dwelt in the Yukon delta, and were desirous of
returning home, to take passage on the Chimo, which
towed their walrus-skin bidarrahs or open boats behind
her. These passengers — men, women, and children, fat,
greasy, and happy — made themselves perfectly at home on
the lower or cargo deck of the steamer, sprawling over
her freight, peering- inquisitively at her engine, and rev-
elling in the combined odors of steam and oil pervading
that part of the boat.
Before half the distance down the coast was covered,
mysterious accidents began to happen to the machinery.
First it came to a stop, and the engineer reported that
something had so seriously gone wrong that it would be
necessary to anchor while he made an examination. To
the horror and dismay of all hands, a gunny sack was
found to be stuffed so far into the exhaust that the pipe
had to be taken apart before the obstruction could be
reached and removed. Not long after this danger was
averted one of the pumps refused to work. It was taken
to .pieces, and was found to contain a large nail, which
must have been recently dropped into it. There was no
doubt but that these things had been done intentionally;
and as suspicion naturally fell on the native passengers,
some of whom were known to be in the employ of the
old company, Gerald Hamer finally ordered them to leave
the steamer.
Not understanding the cause of this peremptory order,
and being loath to exchange their present comfortable
quarters for the open boats, the natives obeyed so slowly
and sulkily that it almost seemed as though they were
about to insist on remaining aboard. At length, how-
ever, all were gone except one woman, who held a child
in her arms, and who refused to leave the warm corner
of which she had taken possession.
Determined to get rid of her, and despairing of moving
her by other means, Gerald Hamer suddenly snatched
the child from her arms, ran to the open gangway, and
dropped it gently into a bidarrah that still waited along-
side. In an instant the mother had followed, and could
be seen as the boat was shoved off hugging the infant to
her bosom, at the same time darting furious glances after
the departing steamer. A minute later, as though in
compliance with her evident though unexpressed wish,
the Chimo was run hard and fast aground ou one of the
innumerable bars that so jealously guard Yukon mouth.
Her native steersman had been leaning from the pilot-
house door watching the dismissal of his compatriots,
and especial!}' of his own wife and baby, as the last two
put off afterwards proved to be, instead of attending to his
duty.
Phil, who remained in the pilot-house, saw the bank
just before the boat struck, and snatched the wheel hard
over, at the same time ringing bells to stop and back at
full speed. But it was all too late, and ere she could be
stopped the Chimo had slid half her length into the
treacherous mud. In another minute the fleet of bidar-
rahs swept by, and from them came mocking laughter,
mingled with derisive shouts. One of them ran along-
side, and ere any one on the steamer knew what was tak-
ing place the native pilot had deserted his post, and was
being borne away in triumph by his fellows.
"I only hope nothing worse will come of it," said
Phil, anxiously, when Gerald Hamer finally rejoined him
in the pilot-house.
" What do you mean?"
"Why, the pilot said something about that baby hav-
ing the measles, which I understand have been pretty
bad on the river this summer, and if that is the case some
of us may have caught them."
" Oh, I guess there's no danger," replied the Captain.
It was too late to do anything that evening, for the
short northern day was already merged in dusk, and the
next morning though anchors were carried out astern
they came home through the soft mud as if it were so
much water the moment a strain was put on them. Sheer-
poles were rigged, and an attempt was made to pry the
boat off by means of them ; but again the mud offered so
little resistance that the effort only resulted in failure.
So, after working like beavers for hours, the Chime's
crew resigned themselves to waiting as patiently as might
be for a change of wind and higher water.
In this enforced delay three precious days were spent,
and nightfall of the third found the Chimo still outside
Yukon mouth instead of one hundred miles or more in-
land as had been hoped. Still, with so energetic a leader as
Gerald Hamer, those three days were by no means wasted.
He overhauled and restowed the cargo hurriedly put on
board at St. Michaels, and with the engineer made a
thorough examination of the machinery. He reorgan-
ized his slender crew, appointing Phil and Serge first and
second mates, and giving each charge of a watch.
Besides the Captain, the two mates, and the engineer,
there were three other persons in the crew. Two of them
were millwrights, who were going to Forty Mile to set up
the saw-mill that formed part of the Chimo' s cargo, but
who now served as firemen. The third was a sullen-
faced fellow named Strengel, who had been engaged from
the steamer Norsk, which brought the expedition to St.
Michaels, to act as assistant engineer. Phil took a dis-
like to this fellow from the first, and it was strengthened
by the fact that he seemed to have contracted an intimacy
with some of the inmates of the Redoubt, who were
avowed enemies of the expedition.
Besides doing the things already mentioned, the Cap-
tain and his two young mates took a small boat and
staked out about ten miles of the channel that the Chimo
would follow as soon as she again floated.
On the evening of the third day the wind changed, and
as the steamer would probably float during the night the
Captain ordered steam to be got up and everything made
ready for a start at daylight. He turned in early, com-
plaining of great weariness and many pains, which he
attributed to the cold and the frequent drenchings that
had accompanied his sounding of the channel.
The following morning, when Phil went to report that
the steamer was afloat, and also to make a grave charge
against Assistant Engineer Strengel, he was horrified to
find the Captain raving in the delirium of a high fever.
Thus to his intense dismay the young mate suddenly
found himself burdened with the entire responsibility of
the expedition, with both a mutiny and a very sick man.
on his hands, in an unfriendly country, and about to be
confronted with the terrors of an arctic winter.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
308
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
A HOTEL FOR CATS AND DOGS.
BY WALT2R C. NICHOLS.
1 TRS, WINTER was sitting sewing in her room up-
1V1 stairs when little Margie came running up with a
tearful face.
" Oh, mamma," she cried, " I can't find pussy any-
where. Cook, says she never came in for her milk this
morning or to-night, and I'm 'fraid she's lost, or eaten
up, or something. Can't I, or papa, or somebody hunt
for her, or something? I'm — I'm 'fraid she'll never come
bark."
"Your papa will not be here to-night," replied Mrs.
Winter; and then trying to calm Margie, "but I think
when Uncle Jack comes home he may be able to help
you find kittle."
When Uncle Jack arrived home for dinner, an hour
later, he was told of the trouble, and made Margie very
happy by saying that, if she would stop worrying till
morning, he thought that kittie could be found all right.
"That is,'' added Uncle Jack, "if a lion has not eaten
her up, and lions, you know, don't walk around New
York very much; they are afraid of policemen."
" But how are you going to find her?" put in Margie's
older brother Tom.
"You're not going ^^^^^^^m ^o«
out with a dark-lan-
terii to look for her,
are you?"
" Oh no," replied
Uncle Jack, with
a mysterious nod,
"but some one else
is."
Margie was all cu-
riosity to know who
it was, whether Santa
Glaus, or Mr. Badge-
ly, her Sunday-
school Superintend-
ent, or who. But
Uncle Jack told her
to wait till morn-
ing, and they would
all start off together
for the cat.
At breakfast-time the cook came in again and said there
•was no sign of the cat; and if it had not been for her
sturdy belief in her Uncle Jack, Margie would have
given up in despair and cried. As it was, she felt very
serious when she and Uncle Jack and Brother Tom, who
only felt sorry for the loss of pussy because it left one
less creature to plague, started out of the house. They
went down Twenty-third Street, and although both chil-
dren were very curious to know where they were going,
it was not until they were on a Second Avenue elevated
train, spinning rapidly along past the house-tops towards
Harlem, that their destination was explained.
" Kittie never could have walked up here," said
Margie.
" No," replied Uncle Jack, " but somebody might have
brought her. You see, Margie, there are people in New
York whose sole business 'it is to hunt all the while for
cats and kittens and dogs they think are lost or stolen,
and bring them up to a nice house built specially for
them, and keep them there and feed them till the owners
come. If anybody loses a dog or cat, he goes direct to
this place, which is under the care of the Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and is called the
'Shelter for Animals.' It was less than a year ago that
they used to have dog-catchers in New York, who could
catch stray dogs and cats, and after a day drown them.
Last March the Legislature up at Albany gave this society
THE CAT ASL> L>0« HOTEL OMNIBUS.
power to issue licenses to the owners of dogs, and to seize
and care for all dogs and cats which are found without
collars bearing the names of the owners around their
necks."
" Oh, dear, dear!" exclaimed Margie; " poor kittie only
had a blue ribbon for a collar."
"That's almost as good," Uncle Jack reassured her.
"You see, the men who go around in the carts on this
work know that when a cat has a pretty ribbon around
her neck — even if the name isn't there — some little girl
is very fond of her, and so they are very careful to keep
the cat until an owner is found. But the tramp cats —
the kind that kept your mamma awake by their concert
the other night — those they kill if they are not claimed
after forty-eight hours."
"How dreadful!" said Margie.
"I'd like to see 'em drowned!" put in Tommy.
"You're a ruffian, Tom," resumed Uncle Jack, "and
you ought to get lost yourself and have a big policeman
club you, and see how you like it yourself. But they
don't drown them. That's the way the city used to do
with its stray cats and dogs, and they used to suffer.
Now they kill those they have to by giving them gas,
just as the dentist did to you, Margie, when you had your
tooth pulled. It
simply puts the old
tramp cats and dogs
to sleep and they
never wake up."
"But they don't
treat the dogs the
way they do the
cats, do they ?" asked
Tom.
" Parti 3T," answer-
ed her uncle. "They
wait a week gener-
ally before they kill
the dogs who are
unclaimed. If there
is a collar on the
dog's neck, the own-
er is notified, and he
comes up and re-
claims the dog and
pays three dollars to
the society for their trouble and the animal's board. At
the end of a week the men at the ' Shelter ' pick out the
better dogs from the poorer, and try to find homes for
them. In the end, however, the tramp dogs meet the
same fate as their sisters, the tramp cats. But you can
soon see for yourself, children, for we are almost there."
The three got off the station at Ninety-ninth Street,
clambered down the stairs, and after walking up Second
Avenue to One Hundred-and-second Street, and over
three blocks to the east, they found themselves on the
river-bank and just in front of a long one-story wooden
structure, bolstered up from the ground by a series of
piles. Across the side of the house was a large sign,
"Shelter for Strayed Animals." When they went iii-
side, they met two men clad in light brown uniforms,
with caps shaped like those the firemen wear. Through
the open door beyond came a confused noise of many
barks, growls, and meows.
" Sounds like the circus," said Tom, " when Professor
Menduseu comes on with his trained dogs and monkeys,
and the clown begins whipping them."
" I don't know what it sounds like," put in Margie.
" But I don't hear kittie's voice, and I want her."
"That's so," returned Uncle Jack, decisively; "and
that's what we've come for." He turned to one of the
attendants at the desk. "We've come in search of my
niece's little kitten. A gray Maltese —
MARCH 5, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
309
"With a blue ribbon around her
neck!'' exclaimed Margie.
" Guess it's No. 46, Jim, "said the man
addressed, to the other attendant. " The
fact is, sir, that it's the only one with a
blue ribbon, sir. When we get that kind
we know it's some favorite pet of a young
lady. Jim, take these people out to see
46."
Then Uncle Jack and Margie and Tom
went out into the cat and dog hotel. It
was a room about eighty feet long and
twenty-five feet wide. On one side was
a series of six large wooden pens, each
the size of a horse's box-stall. These
were for the dogs; and as the children
and their uncle passed by, the dogs —
mongrel, terrier, setter, spaniel, and New-
foundland — yelped a pleading chorus
for release. Some had collars and might
hope for an early return home, and the
others — poor, helpless, dirty curs — were
unconsciously waiting a painless death.
On the other side were a number of small
kennels, with heavy slats for the more
savage dogs who could not get along with
their brothers in the larger and more
neighborly pens. Above them were the small cages where
the lost cats were kept. And there, just opposite to where
they stood, was "46." Margie sprang forward eagerly.
Yes, it was her own kittie, blue ribbon and all.
"Kittie! kittie! kittie!" Margie cried, excitedly and
pleadingly.
The attendant opened the door. There was no doubt
about it. The kitten recognized Margie, sprang to her
shoulder, and lost all remembrance of the terrors of her
surroundings, the near growls of more dogs than she had
ever seen before, in one long contented purr. The other
cats looked on, no doubt as green as their own eyes with
envy that they were not the ones to be released. They
soon forgot all about this, though, in the enjoyment of
the milk and Indian meal porridge that were given them
just a few minutes afterwards.
" This," Jim, the attendant, explained, " the cats get
SOME OF THE APARTMENTS IN THE HOTEL.
twice a day. The dogs receive a sort of porridge with
liver in it twice a day, and nice bones once a day. They
get ' Hotel Waldorf fare,' " he said. He told Uncle Jack
that during the last eight months the "shelter" had re-
ceived 5111 dogs alone, and about 15,000 cats. " More
of the dogs were returned to their owners than cats,"
said Jim.
" I s'pose that means," said Margie, as she walked out
with Tom and Uncle Jack, hugging her kitten all the
closer, "that those extra tramp cats went to sleep and
never woke up."
The man mumbled a rather surprised "yes." Margie
continued :
" Well, I'll tell you what I'm going to do, Uncle Jack.
When I grow up and get rich, I'm going to build a home
for friendless cats, who can live by themselves in safety."
" For the old tabbies who gossip?" asked Uncle Jack,
with a quizzical look.
" No," answered Margie; " just for the kittens."
W1IEUE TUB FOOD IS COOKED.
EVERY MAN HIS DAY.
AX EPISODE OF THE AFGHAN WAR.
BY DAVID KER.
RUT I tells yer I seed 'im agoin' to the rear with my
• own heyes!"
" Well, wot if yer did? The Colonel said hisself — and
/heerd him say it — as 'ow he'd sent him to the rear with
a horder."
" Oh, yes! the Colonel said it, and so in course it must
be true — we all knows lhat! Why, Bill Barton, ain't yer
got no more sense nor that? It's likely, ain't it, that the
Colonel 'ud go and tell everybody as 'ow one of his horfl-
cers, and a friend o' his own into the bargain, had been
and showed the white feather in haction ! It's all werry
fine to say he sent 'im to the rear with a horder, but I'll
lay a rupee I could put that there border in my eye, and
see none the worse !"
"Wot? — d'ye mean to go and tell me thata Englishman
can be afraid?' cried vehemently the young fellow who
had spoken before.
" Well, when you sees a Englishman turn tail and run
away under fire, wot do you ginerally call him yourself?"
To this pointed question Bill Barton found no reply
save an inarticulate grunt.
310
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"What do you think of it all, corporal?" asked one of
the men, turning to a hard-faced old fellow, who was
listening with an air of quiet superiority to the talk of the
young soldiers, among whom his age and long service,
together with his rank as a non-commissioned officer, had
made him a kind of oracle.
"Well, it's just this way," replied the old soldier;
"they say every man has his day, and it's true enough.
A man has his good days and his bad days, his clever
days and his stupid days, his days when he's all right and
his days when he's all nohow; and same way he has his
fightin' days and not-fightin' days, and this was one o'
hisn. One day a man '11 fight like fifty mad cats, and
another day he'll he afeard of his own shadder!"
"I've seen many a strange thing in my time," thought
the stout-hearted old Colonel that same night, with bitter
grief, "but never did I expect to see my old friend's son
turn his back upon the Queen's enemies!"
Far deeper and more poignant, however, was the dis-
tress of the ill-fated lad for whom he was grieving.
Creeping into his tent, as if shunning the very light of
day, the young subaltern threw himself upon his bed,
and gave way to a paroxysm of despair so bitter and in-
tense that even the death from which he fled would have
been mercy to it.
Yes, he had fled. The brave old Colonel might gener-
ously strive to hide his fault from others, but he could
not hide it from himself. On the day of his very first
battle— that day to which he had always looked forward
so eagerly for a chance of distinguishing himself — he had
lost his nerve, betrayed his weakness, and blasted his
career at once and forever!
It is in such moods that men are tempted to their de-
struction ; and the temptation was close at hand. He
had nothing to live for now, and death could have no
terrors for one who was already dead to all that makes
life worth having. He stretched out his hand, and caught
hold of a pistol.
The next moment the slumbering camp (for it was
now night) was startled by a single shot ; and then, as if
that report had been a signal, the crash of a rifle volley
rang through the still air like a peal of thunder, while
high above it rose the yell of the Afghan war-cry.
It was the old story— -"lions commanded by asses."
The General in command, with want of plain common-
sense, had neglected to take the most ordinary precau-
tions against such an enemy as the depised Afghans;
and he was now about to learn to his cost that these
Afghans were not to be despised, after all.
Taken by surprise, and suddenly aroused from sleep by
an attack in the dark, the young English soldiers (many
of whom had never been under fire before) began to lose
their heads, got jammed up together, and in a few mo-
ments more would have been merely a helpless mass.
"Open out! open out! don't get clubbed!" shouted a
clear voice, suddenly, amid the uproar, as a light figure
came springing to the front. "Come, we won't let these
Afghan curs say that they beat Englishmen. Hurrah!"
" Hurrah!" echoed fifty voices at once, as the men be-
gan to rally round their new leader, while the Afghans,
startled by the shout, and supposing that a re-enforcement
had suddenly come up to the help of their adversaries,
hesitated for an instant — and that instant made all the
difference.
As a tall stately man in the rich dress of an Afghan
chief stepped forth from the disorderly mass of Asiatics
and waved his men on, the English leader flew at him
like one reckless of life, and cut him down with a single
blow. Then, flinging away his broken sabre, he snatched
his fallen enemy's tulwar (short sword), and hewed down
two more Afghans, shouting,
" Comeon,boys! give 'em the bayonetlike Englishmen!"
"Who the dickens is that chap?" muttered a soldier to
his comrade; " he fights as if lie meant to lick the whole
kit of 'em single-handed!"
" Blowed if / know!" answered the other; "but who-
ever ho is. I'm game to follow him slap down a tiger's
throat, if he goes at it like that!"
On came the English, and for a few minutes there was
a wild hand-to-hand melee, in which both sides fought
like tigers; but discipline at length prevailed over blind
fury, and the Afghans, already disheartened by the fall
of their leader, began to give ground, while at the same
time fresh troops were seen coming up to the assistance
of the little band of heroes who had turned the battle.
But the day (or rather the night) was not won yet; for
just then another huge mass of Afghan warriors burst in
upon the disordered English from the opposite, side, her-
alding their charge with a murderous fire. The British
began to fall fast, and, staggered by the shock, as well as
discouraged by the overwhelming numbers of their as-
sailants (now fully revealed to them by the flames of
some huts which the Afghans had set on fire), began to
waver once more.
" What?" shouted their impromptu leader; "will you
give up just when you've got the game in your hands?
Follow the old flag!"
And snatching the colors from their falling bearer, he
plunged headlong into the sea of white robes and dark
faces before him.
That was enough. The English set up a shout that
made the air ring, and on they came like a mighty wave.
Before that tremendous rush neither strength nor valor
was of any avail. The swarming enemies were swept
away as if they had never been ; and when the battle
was over many of the Afghans were found dead without
a wound, literally trampled flat by the fury of the charge.
The victory was won — but where was he who had
helped to win it?
Where, indeed? Not till after a long and anxious
search did the conquerors at length drag forth from a
heap of dead the still breathing body of the hero of that
terrible night, with his clothes almost torn from his back,
and his life-blood pouring fast through half a dozen
wounds, any one of which seemed more than enough to
make an end of him; and he, to every one's stupefaction,
proved to be the " coward " of the previous morning, who,
when just about to take his own life in despair, had been
called forth by the distant shot that told of the approach-
ing enemy, to seek a soldier's death as the one thing
left him to hope for.
" No good — he'll die!" said one of the soldiers.
"Die? he sha'n't die!" cried another man, fiercely.
" God could never have the heart to let him arter fightin'
like that!"
And a tear — the first he had ever been known to shed
— dropped upon that white, still face from the stern eye
of the iron Colonel, as he muttered, brokenly:
"My brave boy! if you could but live to know how
we repent of having misjudged you!"
And the gallant lad did live, though the regimental
surgeon had given him up (which a waggish subaltern
pronounced to be the first step in his recovery), and you
would find to-day in the tall, handsome, soldierly Major
Hackemwell, with the Victoria Cross on his broad chest,
no trace of his having once been so near to death, and
still nearer to the living death of being branded as a
coward.
"Well, wasn't I right?" cried Corporal Phillips, when
all was over. "Everyman has his fightin' days, and his
not-fightin' days; and that was one o' the young chap's
fightin' uns !"
" Well, then," said one of his hearers, " I 'ope my next
not-fightin' day '11 fall due when there ain't nothiii' goin'
on ; and I 'ope my fightin' day '11 be so kyind as 'appen the
werry next time we has a scrimmage."
THE BUILDING OF MODERN WONDERS.
THE LOCOMOTIVE.
BY FRANKLIN MATTHEWS.
A LTHOUGH I have ridden repeatedly on locomotives
IX by day and by night, and have studied their work-
ings in a half-wondering and semi-bewildered way, and
although I have read more or less eagerly nearly every-
thing I could find of general interest about them, I must
confess that until recently I never knew that every loco-
motive consists of two distinct engines. Splendid spurls
of speed, the responsibilities of engineers and firemen, for
whom I acknowledge a great admiration amounting al-
most to bero worship, and the ever-increasing mastery
over nature by men, as shown in the work of locomotives,
had occupied my attention, and the mechanical details of
these superb machines had escaped me to some extent.
Of course, in a general way, every one knows something
about a locomotive. Every one knows, for example,
that there is a fire-box that
heats the water in the boil-
er into steam, and that the
steam rushing into the
cylinders pushes a piston-
rod back and forth, and
this makes the wheels turn,
and the locomotive go.
The exhaust steam passes
up out of the smoke-stack
with the gases of the fire,
and there you have a loco-
motive.
But how about the two
engines? The fact is, there
is an engine on each side
of all locomotives. The
wheels on one side are
driven by one engine and
those on the opposite side
by another. A steam-cyl-
inder, where the steam ac-
tually does its work by
pushing a piston back and
forth, or up and down, is
what might be called the
unit of any engine. In a
certain sense it is the en-
gine. It is the heart of the
machine. Every locomo-
tive has to have a heart on
each side in order to make
the wheels of that side go.
Therefore, on every loco-
motive there are two
steam - cylinders. They are small round tanks just
back of the cow-catcher, in plain sight of everybody.
Compound locomotives have two sets of cylinders on
each side, and like many steamships nowadays use the
steam twice before getting a fresh supply. These two
engines of a locomotive have only one fire, and are sup-
plied with steam from one boiler, and are controlled by
one man just as though they were one engine, and that
explains how I thought it was all one machine.
The discovery that there were two engines under the
boiler of every locomotive made me curious to know
more about locomotives, and therefore I went to Phila-
delphia a week or two ago, where, right in the heart of
the city, and on their finest street, are the largest locomo-
tive works in the world. They are the Baldwin Works,
and they cover sixteen acres, employ about five thousand
men, and in busy times work twenty-four hours a day.
The men make a locomotive complete there, and when
busiest they turn them out at the rate of three and one-
THE HYDRAULIC RIVETER.
third a day. There are shops upon shops in this big
plant, one devoted to this kind of work and one to that,
until, as you go about the establishment, you get con-
fused, and you marvel at the system that brings harmony
out of the confusion. You see furnaces glowing and
roaring, you hear an incessant din from pounding, you
see the forges and the foundry work.
The place where you start and where you finish your
inspection of this establishment is the most interesting.
It is called the erecting-shop. It is a long rectangular
building with nineteen tracks running across it, each
track capable of holding four locomotives. Here is whore
the locomotives are put together. From one shop the
cylinders are brought, from another come the boilers,
from another the wheels, and so on, and here the whole
locomotive is assembled
and made fit for work.
There are certain standards
for locomotives-, but for
every one there has to be
several hundred drawings,
and to get all the parts
made and ready for the
erecting-shop requires from
two to three weeks, as a
rule, although the Baldwin
people once did build two
locomotives for use in Ja-
pan in eleven days.
Here in the erecting-shop
you see locomotives in every
stage of construction. You
see strong frames consist-
ing of an upper and lower
bar, one for each side of
the locomotive, and both
frames connected by strong
cross-pieces. These frames
consist of solid steel four
inches broad and thick, and
the average weight of the
frame is about 6400 pounds.
You never notice the frame
when you look at a finished
locomotive because it is hid-
den, but it holds up the
boiler and fire-box and all
the rest, and it is support-
ed of course on the wheels.
While you are standing in
the erecting-shop, you look up, and perhaps with alarm
see an enormous boiler swaying back and forth in mid-
air, and coming down towards you with the speed of a
shadow across a field. Tremendous travelling -cranes
run by electricity, and with big hooks hanging from
them, the ends of which curve up like an elephant's trunk
when he throws a peanut into his mouth, pick up these
boilers,and lift them easier than ahotel porter lifts a trunk.
Great ropes, consisting of numerous strands of manila
rope, and loosely covered by what looks like bagging, are
placed around the object to be lifted, and then a man
away up near the roof gets a signal. He pulls this and
pushes that lever, and the ropes tighten, and at last the
weight is clear of the ground and quietly swinging in the
air like a gymnast resting in his trapeze after a difficult
turn. If the boilers or locomotives contained eggs hy
the thousand greater gentleness in picking them up
could not be used than is exercised in lifting- them at the
start, but the swooping way they go across the building
312
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
after they get started is quite terrifying at first to the
spectator. There are two of these cranes in this shop,
and they are always busy as piece after piece of the loco-
motives is transported here and there. These cranes can
lift 100 tons with ease, and they use electrical force equal
to forty horse-power.
In putting a locomotive together, the boilers generally
are the next to arrive after the frames are set up. The
boilers are adjusted to their places, and then come the
cylinders, guides, wheels, cabs, and the tenders. A boil-
er, as nearly every one knows, consists of from 100 to
200 tubes of greater or less length, each about two inches
in diameter, and all encased in an outer shell. The fire
and gases run through these tubes, and in the spaces
around the tubes the water is made into steam. The out-
side of the boiler is of iron, and nearly an inch thick. I
was surprised to find workmen covering the boilers with
white pine wooden jackets called "lagging." Some boil-
ers were being covered with asbestos.
My guide explained that this served a purpose similar
to that of a woollen garment next to the skin which peo-
ple wear in winter. "It keeps the heat in,"he explained,
"and no locomotive leaves the shops without wearing
what you might call an undershirt. After this is put on
the thin and glossed sheet-iron covering is placed on the
outside. The wooden under-covering gets charred away
after a few years, of course, and has to be replaced, but
that or asbestos is necessary to keep the heat in and to
use it in making steam."
As you wander about in this erecting-shop you may
see every part of a locomotive fitted into place. You
can easily understand what all those contrivances inside
the cab are for. You see that on each side of the cab
are "injectors" or pumps for pumping water into the
boiler from the tender; you see the cylinder and brake
lubricators that keep those parts covered with oil con-
stantly; you see the starting throttle and the reversing
lever; you see the steam and air gauges and the valves,
and you begin to understand that a locomotive cab is
comparatively simple after all. As you peer beneath
EMPTTINi; MOLTEN IRON FROM A "LADLE" INTO A MOULD.
the boiler you will doubtless notice a large drum. That
is a reservoir for compressed air for use in applying' the
l>r:ikes, and it is supplied by pumps that may be seen on
the outside of most locomotives just ahead of the cab on
the boiler. They look like two-gallon cans, made to
carry oil or some other harmless thing.
In passing in front of an unfinished locomotive you
will notice that there is a great vacant chamber di-
rectly beneath the smokestack. On close examination
you will see two large pipes there, through which the
steam rushes from the boiler to the cylinders, and you
will also see that into this compartment the fire and ex-
haust steam are discharged. Here is where a draught is
practically stimulated, and where the last combustion
occurs. By means of improved furnaces and other con-
trivances the smokestacks of locomotives have been
growing smaller and smaller, and the boilers have been
growing bigger, so that the locomotives of to-day no
more resemble those of twenty years ago than the fash-
ions of these times resemble those of two decades ago.
The enormous smokestacks of those days are gone.
Next to the erecting-shops the most interesting place
in a big locomotive works is the foundry. Here is where
all the castings are made. Here they turn out wheels,
cylinders, axles, and what not by the score, and the place
resounds with miniature explosions and is brilliant with
pretty bursts of sparks as ladle after ladle of the molten
metal is poured into the moulds. In the centre of the
building are two enormous cranes that look like railroad
derricks. Scattered about in thick profusion are square
boxes in which the moulds are made. Over on one side
of the place are three or four big furnaces, adjacent to
the "scrap" yard, where the iron is stored before being
melted.
All is i.ow ready for a casting. One of the big der-
ricks swings a large can, that looks about four times as
large as the iron ash-cans which are seen on sidewalks in
cities, over to the mouth of one of the furnaces. This
can will hold five tons of molten metal, and is called a
ladle. The door of the furnace is open, and a bright
yellow liquid that runs as
smoothly in the trough as
molasses in the summer-
time would run pours out
and drops into the ladle.
Gases remain inside the
mass in the ladle to some
extent, and soon a work-
man goes up and pokes
an iron rod into it. In-
stantly a swarm of lit-
tle sparks fly out as
thick as a school of mos-
quitoes travelling about
a swamp. They are more
like fire-flies than mos-
quitoes, however, for
when they get about a
dozen feet away from
the ladle each glowing
spark becomes a little
bomb and bursts into a
beautiful yellow star.
The air is full of these
pretty explosions at once,
and the Fourth-of-July
effect is a delightful sur-
prise. Every one has
seen those firework bombs
which travel straight up
into the air, and may
be followed easily by
the dim light on the end,
AN ELECTRIC TRAVELLING-CRANE LIFTING A LOCOMOTIVE-
and winch finally burst into a beautiful group of
colored balls. The explosions in this foundry are
something like that, only there are a hundred bombs
bursting at once. They have no variety in colors, and
they become stars instead of balls, but your eye can
follow the dimly lighted sparks as they shoot out of
the molten metal, and when they all spring into sun-
bursts in the air you are prepared to assert that here is a
regiment of four or five hundred men working in this
place for whom real Fouth-of-July fireworks must have
very little attraction.
The ladle is swung around to some mould, and then
workmen seize long bars that project from its sides and
tip the bucket and pour a small stream into the mould. As
the mould is filled a workman pokes a rod into this mass
also to allow the gases to escape, and the same bomb ex-
plosions occur as when the ladle received the metal from
the furnace. Each mould consists of an upper and lower
part, and there are frequent openings to allow the escape
of gases which otherwise would still remain in the metal.
These gases pour out between the upper and lower part
of the mould and burn in a pretty blue light. There are
numerous explosions that sound like muffled pistol re-
ports as the gases escape; and all this, with the red-
shirted workmen, and the constant swinging of cranes,
and the haze in the place, make a most attractive spec-
tacle.
One of the things cast in this shop interested me very
much — it was the steam-dome. On the top of every loco-
motive is one of these domes. They are the places into
which the steam rises from the boilers and is dried be-
fore passing into the cylinders.
These domes are cast without the oval top that caps
them when in position, and when they are inserted look
like an enormous grandfather's hat with the top out.
The rim of the hat fits down over the sides of the boiler.-.
and as I looked at several of these castings, some glowing
red still, and some gray and fuzzy, I was back with tin-
last two Presidential campaigns at once. A dome like
this looked as if some giant had come in to make a speech
to the workmen, and had placed his hat crown down and
rim up in the most convenient place. When you look
314
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
at a locomotive the next time just imagine the steam
dome flattened on top, and then you will see the resem-
blance to a big- hat. In the foundry I venture that you
could think of nothing else at first. On the ground in
the foundry these domes look twice as large as on the
locomotives, and their resemblance to the hat seemed the
more ludicrous.
Then there are a dozen other shops in the plant worth
seeing. There are two floors packed with machinery, and
called the machine shops; there are the big forge shops,
where large hammers beat the heated ingots into shapes
for working over in the various parts of the locomotives;
there are the boiler shops, the wood-working shops, and so
on. One of the most interesting machines to be seen in
any of them is a hydraulic riveter. The edges of a boiler
plate are placed together and swung in between the teeth
of this riveter; a man turns on the water pressure, and
the big rivet that helps to hold the lapping sides of the
boiler is driven down with a furious and lasting force.
Another interesting place in the establishment is the
steam-power plant that operates it. There are eight enor-
mous boilers there, and they feed coal to themselves.
One man looks after all of them. Down beneath the
boilers is a big coal-room. An endless chain with little
coal buckets attached runs through the place, and carries
the coal to big hoppers in front of each furnace fire,
where it is dumped, and the coal automatically glides
inside of the furnace. It is a great labor-saving device.
The stoker, that picturesque man in all engine-rooms,
seems doomed, at least in stationary plants, and there are
dozens of engineers planning to supplant him by ma-
chinery on steamships and locomotives. They have not
succeeded yet, but they are not discouraged, and some day
even the locomotive stoker may disappear.
Thus in wandering about this place we see there are
two great departments. One is where a locomotive is
put together, and the other is where it, or rather the
parts are made. Each passenger locomotive weighs on
the average about sixty tons, and the tender weighs about
thirty tons. When the locomotive is running it carries
about five tons of water inside the boiler, which is con-
stantly being made into steam. The tender also carries
about twelve tons of water when a start is made, a sup-
ply on the average for a smart run of fifty miles. The
average cost of a locomotive in these times is from 68000
to $9000. This establishment in Philadelphia was started
somewhere about 1830, and it has built about 14,000 loco-
motives. The largest output of a single year was in 1890,
when 946 locomotives were built. From 1883 to 1892 this
establishment exported no less than 1356 locomotives.
These locomotives have gone to almost every country of
the globe. You will see them pulling trains from Jaffa
to Jerusalem, and you will see them puffing about sugar
plantations in Hawaii. In Australia and New Zealand
they may be found by the score. On those picturesque
railroads that are beginning to abound in South America
they are plentiful. Every one of these locomotives bears
witness to the great mechanical development and inge-
nuity of the people of the United States.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
SOAP and candles, tallow and wicks,
Franklin was born in seventeen six.
In seventeen six, in Boston town,
Was boru this hero ol great ivnowii
Who one day sent up his kilo so high
It learned strange secrets from the sky.
If you want to know what the kite found out
It's all in your history, I've no doubt.
ELLA WHEELER WILCOX
THE AMBUSCADE ON CLOVER HILL.
BY WILLIA5I MURRAY GRAYDON.
ON a cold afternoon in the latter part of February five
boys — ranging in age from fourteen to sixteen — were
hard at work in the front yard of one of the score of
houses that composed the little village of Ferndale. The
task upon which they were engaged was the repairing of
an old bob-sled. Tom Curtis and Ira Marsh were nailing
a long plank fast to the two sections, while Dory Wistar
and Jed Peters were fitting the steering-wheel into place.
Mert Eexford, the owner of the sled, was telling his com-
panions just how the work ought to be done.
The village street terminated at one end on the brow
of Clover Hill. From- here a good road ran straight
down to the base of the long hill, and then, after curving
to the right for several hundred yards, it became the
main thoroughfare of the village of Rossinoyne. The
distance between Ferndale and Rossmoyne was a little
more than a mile, and just now the road was a sheet of
icy snow. It was so slippery and dangerous, in fact, that
no teams had ventured to go up or down the hill that
day. But start a hob-sled from the top and it would
whizz like a streak to the valley below, and on through
Rossmoyne, and perhaps even across the covered bridge
that spanned Roaring Creek.
It was this way. From dim antiquity ill feeling had
existed between the boys of Rossinoyne and Ferndale,
and no one knew the primary cause of the feud. Ross-
moyne being the larger village, boasted a dozen fighting
youngsters, who were under the acknowledged leader-
ship of Skip Hutton. Skip was a quarrelsome, boastful
lad, and his chief ambition was to "punch Mert Rex-
ford's head " a second time — for he had already d'one so
once.
The occasion referred to was during the last Christinas
week, when both parties ventured to use Clover Hill for
coiisting one night. At first all went amicably, and
mutual enjoyment of the sport promised to bury the an-
cient feud in its grave. But an unfortunate collision led
to hot words and a fight, and Mert and his companions,
outnumbered two to one, reluctantly left the enemy in
possession of the field.
Since then the Ferndale boys had prudently betaken
themselves to the smaller hill behind the village, while
Skip Hutton and his unruly crowd used the lower portion
of Clover Hill. At a point half-way down the grade was
almost level for a hundred feet or so, and here they would
start their coasting-trips. In spite of their superior num-
bers they did not venture to the summit of the hill. Per-
haps they feared that Mert would recruit additional forces
from the grown-up population of the village, and so gain
a victory.
Just now Mert and his companions were not giving a
thought to the feud as they tinkered away at the old bob-
sled. It was after four o'clock when the last nail was
driven, and as they stood looking at their handiwork a
cheery voice hailed them from the sidewalk. They
turned around to see Dory Wistar's uncle. Simon Garri-
son, leaning on the gate. He was a plump, jolly-faced
old man. with cheeks as red as winter apples. He lived
down in Rossmo\Tne, where he owned a flour-mill on the
bank of the creek.
" Hello, Uncle Simon !" cried Dory. " You didn't drive
up Clover Hill a day like this?"
The miller laughed, and shook his head. "I walked
up on business, and I reckon I'll go down the same
way. I've got something to tell you fellows," he went
on, in a confidential tone. "There's great doings down
in our town to-night. 'Ain't you heard about it? The
Rossmoyne Lyceum is giving an entertainment in the
school -house to raise money for books. It begins at
seven o'clock, an' they're going to have tableaux, an'
MARCH 5, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
315
wax-figgers, an' a guitar— no, a bazar, that's it— an' then
they'll wind up with oyster stews and ice-cream. What
do you think of that?"
He paused for breath, and his hearers looked eager and
hungry. They also looked angry and resentful. It was
not pleasant to be told about so tantalizing and impossble
a feast. "Ferndale can have one of those things any
time it wants to," Mert said, defiantly.
"I dare say,1' replied Uncle Simon; "but I reckon it
ain't having one to-night. Now I'll tell you chaps what
to do. After supper get on your bob-sled— the hull pack
of you — and coast down to the school-house. I'll pay
your way in, and buy each of you a dish of oysters and
ice cream. You see, I've got to help that Lyceum along
somehow, and this is just a prime way to do it."
The five boys uttered five shouts of delight, and then
they all looked very sober. "It ain't worth the ice-
cream and oysters to get our heads punched," growled
Mert.
" Or to have the bob-sled all busted," added Ira Marsh.
"That's so," exclaimed Dory. "How about Skip
Button's gang, Uncle Simon? They'll steal the sled, an'
then lay for us when we start home. Wouldn't they
just like the chance!"
"I'll fix 'em if they do," declared the miller, in fierce
tones, as he shook his two fists. "They sha'n't one of
them skate on my mill-dam next summer or swim in it this
winter. They couldn't well do that, anyway," he added,
as the boys began to laugh; "but you know what I me.ai,
you young scallywags. Honest, now. I'll see that you
ain't molested. You can put the sled in the hall of the
school-bouse, an' when you start home I'll go part way
up the hill with you. How's that?"
" It's a bargain," cried Dory. "We'll try to come."
"We'll come for sure," added Mert. rashly vouching
for his followers. "Look out for us."
"I'll be waiting at the school-house door," said Uncle
Simon. "Be sure to start at seven o'clock, and then I'll
know just when to expect you. I must be off' now, for
it's getting late. Don't go back on me, lads. Those
oysters and ice-cream will be prime."
Just about that time a lanky youth of seventeen, with
red hair and furtive, sneaking eyes, crept out of the cellar
of the village grocery-store, which adjoined Mert's yard.
Tony Peck belonged in Eossmoyne, but he had been in
the grocer's employ for a year past.
"Won't I fix them stuck-up fellows!" he muttered to
himself, as he banded a pail of molasses to an impatient
customer. "They don't know I heard 'em talking, an'
they don't know I'm going down to that festival myself.
I'll start at five o'clock, an' that'll give me plenty of time
to see Skip Hutton an' the crowd."
Tony was not popular with the boys of Ferndale, and Jt
did not occur to Mert and his friends to invite him to ride
down with them. They certainly did not know that he
had preceded them to Rossmoyne by two hours, when
they reached the top of Clover Hill at five minutes of
seven ; had they been aware of the fact they might have
felt less jubilant.
The boys eagerly scrambled for their places, Mert tak-
ing the tiller, and Dory Wistar perching himself on the
end seat. "Here goes !" he shouted, and with his feet he
pushed the sled over the brow of the hill. There were
a grinding jar, a swift rush, and the cruise was fairly
begun. Faster and faster the merry party went whizzing
through the frosty air. Fine particles of ice flew up and
stung their cheeks, and the snow-banks to right and left
shot by like blurred white streaks. Overhead the stars
were shining in a steel-blue sky, and straight away in
front the frozen slope glistened until it was lost to view
around the curve that led to the twinkling lights of
Rossmoyne. It seemed no time at all until the bob-
sled was a third of the way down, and now it darted be-
tween the stunted pine-trees that lined this part of the
road on both sides. Whiz! a hard snowball carried off
Mert's cap, and another struck him on the arm. Whiz!
one grazed Ira Marsh's nose, and one thumped Jed
Peters on the back of the neck. Now the balls came
thick and fast from both sides, accompanied by peals of
mocking laughter. Here and there a head peeping from
the shadow of the pines told of the enemy's cunningly
planned ambuscade.
"Stoop low!" yelled Mert, as he hugged the tiller
tight; "we'll soon be past."
His companions ducked their heads, but still the balls
pelted them mercilessly. Then came a brief lull as the
sled shot on toward the short stretch of level grade, and
when the boys looked up, hoping the worst was over,
they made an unexpected discovery. About sixty yards
ahead, at the farther end of the level, the road was
completely blocked by a barricade of interwoven fence
rails. It flashed upon Mert instantly that it was im-
possible to go through this without injury, and equally
so to stop the sled at such short range. Before he
could make up his mind what to do a lad jumped out
of the pine thicket to the left, about fifty feet down the
road, and posted himself on the edge of the low snow-
bank. The bright starlight revealed the chunky figure
of Skip Hutton himself, and showed that he had one arm
full of snowballs. As the sled whizzed nearer he let one
of the missiles drive. It struck Mert on the breast, but
the act of throwing overbalanced Skip, and he tumbled
down into the roadway, directly in the path of the flying
sled. Mert and his companions uttered cries of horror
and warning, but they did no good. There was not even
time to swerve the sled to one side, and just as Skip
gained his feet he was struck and pitched into the air.
The collision tossed him backward, and he came down
squarely between Jed Peters and Ira Marsh, who had the
middle seats. Quick as a flash they grabbed him, and
hauled him to an upright position on the plank. He
struggled a little and howled with fright; from the way
his legs squirmed he was evidently not hurt. Mert
glanced over his shoulder and saw what had happened.
"Hurrah ! we've got a prisoner," he shouted. "Hold
him tight, bnvs. I'm going to show you something now;
just watch."
How Mert intended to avert a catastrophe was quickly
seen. To the right of the level grade — now almost reached
— there were no pine-trees, and the fence had been torn
away to construct the barricade. A low bank of snow
was the only obstacle between the road and the open
field. No sooner did the front runners touch the level
than he swung the tiller a little to .the right. The sled,
going at -a terrific speed, veered at an angle out of the
centre of the roadway, and just when it seemed on the
point of plunging into the barrier of fence rails, it struck
the low bank and rode over it. Then on it went with a
roar, fairly flying across the. hard glassy snow-crust of
the open field.
. "Where are you going. Mert?" Dory shouted at him.
"You know the hill ends in a big drop down below, and
we'll either smash into a tree or a house."
" I know," Mert yelled back. " I'm going to clear the
village, and strike for the open road along the creek.
I'm pretty sure I can turn into it without running out
on the ice. Stick tight, you fellows, and keep your feet
up."
"We'll be drowned," cried Skip Hutton. "Let me
off, let me off."
He began to struggle, but Jed only held him the tighter.
"Hold still," he shouted. "If you tumble off here
you'll break your neck."
"I won't," snarled Skip. But nevertheless he calmed
down.
By this time the sled was nearly out of the track of
THE SLED GOING AT TERRIFIC SPEED VEERED OUT OF THE ROADWAi".
the steep and timbered base of the hill, beneath which
lay Rossmoyiie. Straight ahead the snow-crust sloped
away to the road that bordered the frozen surface of
Roaring Creek. The thrilling ride was almost over, and
the boys began to cheer and laugh.
But when the edge of the road was only a dozen yards
off, and just as Mert was making ready to twist the tiller,
something- unexpected happened. The sled glided into
the unseen hollow of a frozen rivulet, and gathered fresh
speed from the patches of slippery ice. Before the dazed
boys could realize their peril they whizzed at right angles
across the road and shot out upon the creek.
Dory and Tom. remembering that a neighboring spring
made the ice at all times perilous hereabouts, threw them-
selves off in safety. The sled dashed on with the others,
and was nearly to the opposite bank of the creek, when
it capsized on a ridge of hard snow. A big air-hole
yawned just below. Ira and Jed barely escaped slipping
into it, but Mert and Skip were less fortunate, -and both
vanished under the black waters.
An. instant later they came to the top several yards
apart. Mert had his wits about him, and struck out for
the upper edge of the ice. But Skip seemed to be help-
less; he threw up his arms and called shrilly for aid.
Hearing the cry, Mert turned around and swam back.
He caught hold of his old enemy, and after a fierce
struggle succeeded in getting him to the edge of the
ice. There they both clung, too weak to climb out, and
in momentary peril of losing their hold.
But just in time the other boys reached the spot, and
the two lads were rescued with some difficulty from their
dangerous plight. Attracted by the outcry, a number of
villagers arrived on the scene. Uncle Simon among the
number. He took charge of Mert and his companions,
while Skip Hutton was hurried home by his friends.
After being well rubbed down in front of Uncle Si-
mon's hot stove, and putting on a change of clothing that
belonged to the miller's son, Mert insisted upon going
to the entertainment. The end of it was that the boys
went, and after they had enjoyed themselves thoroughly,
and eaten heaps of oysters and ice-cream, they came out-
side, to find Skip Hutton and his crowd waiting for them.
But it was not with hostije intentions — quite the con-
trary, in fact. Skip shook hands with Mert, and there
were cheering and hand-shaking all round, and theRoss-
moyne boys went half-way up the hill with their old en-
emies, where they parted, the best of friends.
So that was the end of the great feud, and it is not
likely to ever arise from the grave which Mert's heroism
dug for it.
W
THE ESCAPE OF THREE GIRLS.
BY ANNIE HAMILTON DONNELL.
HOA ! Now what shall we do, my friends?"
Peggy Hildreth drew the reins over one arm,
rested both elbows on her knees and her round chin in
the hollow of her hands. It was hardly a driver's ordi-
nary pose.
"'Well?"
"Well?"
The latter queries came in chorus from the back seat.
Then there was another silence, broken melodiously by
the long sweet trill of a tiny bird tilting on a twig by the
roadside. The sun had quite disappeared over the hori-
zon, and the red glow in his wake was fast disappearing
too. Peggy shivered a little, and sunk her neck deeper
into her shoulders.
"Hush!" she said, lifting a finger to the trilling bird;
" I want to talk now. You go home to your wife and the
babies. You're not lost. Now, girls, what's to be done
next? Here are three roads to choose from. Which?"
Margie Russell looked at Puss Perry, and Puss looked
at her.
"Left," Puss said.
"Right," Margie murmured.
Peggy laughed and unposed her elbows. "Then here
goes for the other one! Get up, Dollikins!"
With a jerk Dollikins woke up and launched out into
MAKC1I 5, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
317
a gentle amble, obeying Peggy's twitch that turned her
into the middle one of the three roads.
"We're in for it uo\v, whatever it is," Margie sighed,
settling back on the seat, and folding her little gloved
hands resignedly.
"I don't see how we missed the way," said Peggy,
over her shoulder. "I'm sure we turned all the left-
hand corners till we got to the blacksmith's shop."
"A blacksmith's shop, you know," Puss remarked.
mildly.
"No, the blacksmith's shop; for the bellows-man had
on a red flannel shirt, and squinted, just as Helen said
he would."
"Must have squinted hard, right through his back
hair," Puss murmured.
" Well, anyhow, we're in for it!" Margie said. " Let's
call it a real spree and be jolly."
" But it's miles and miles back home, and they'd never
let us try it again after we'd made such a mess of it this
time. And Helen wants us to come awfully."
" And we want to go awfully."
" Well, we will go. Who's afraid?"
"But where '11 we stay all night, Margie Russell? —
that's what interests me. I'm going to be sleepy in just
three-quarters of an hour."
" Oh, we'll stop at the first good-looking house. We'll
tell 'em your father's a judge, and Peg's mother is the
prettiest woman in the county."
"Don't; you make me homesick," groaned Peggy.
"Get up, DolliUins!"
Twilight had shifted to night. Dolli-
kins jogged patiently along, in grim obedi-
ence to Peggy's gentle twitches and admo-
nitions. Not a house loomed up beside
them. The girls joked and told stories, but
the merriment grew uneasy and hysterical.
Tlieir little "surprise party " had turned
out rather too surprising. But there was
one good thing, Margie insisted : Helen
wouldn't look for them without any warn-
ing, and the home folks wouldn't dream of
worrying, for they would know they were
safe at Helen's.
Peggy and Puss sniffed.
" For my humble part," Puss murmured,
dismally, " I'd rather enjoy being worried
over a little."
" Wait!" cried Margie. " I see a light!"
"Two lights!"
"Three lights!"
"Dollikins, we're saved!"
A big house set about with great trees
sprang up suddenly beside them. Several
feeble lights blinked in as many windows.
" Looks like a barracks," Peggy whisper-
ed, pulling on the reins.
" Or an insane asylum," Margie said, du-
biously.
" Well, it's a house, anyway. Come on :
we're in for it."
They felt their way up the stubbly path,
and knocked gently at the front door. The
little knock gathered terrible energy, rever-
berating and echoing in their startled ears.
But it produced no effect upon the inmates.
"Doit again, Peggy," Puss whispered,
shivering nervously.
The third summons brought a heavy
footstep along the hall. Then the door
opened cautiously, and an old woman peered
out, holding her lamp above her head.
"For the laud's sake, who be ye?" she
ejaculated.
Peggy responded to the pokes of the other girls, and
stood bravely forward, explaining their predicament
politely.
"Land, yes," the old woman said, smiling toothless
encouragement, and opening the door wide. "You come
right in. My man '11 see to the beast. I'll git ye a bite
an' give ye a bed as well's not. The rest has had supper,
but it won't put rne out none to speak of. There's cold
b'iled pork an' greens aplenty, an' a hunk o' suet puddin"
left. You relish suet puddin', miss?"
She stopped, and peered into Margie's face good-natured-
ly. The lamp flickered dimly, and threw pale distorted
shadows on the wall.
"What in — Oh yes'm, thank you," stammered Mar-
gie. The little procession moved on.
" Why, Margie Russell, I don't believe you know what
suet pudding is," whispered Peggy, hysterically.
" What did she say? I was too scared to hear," Margie
whispered back, catching tight hold of Peggy's warm
hand.
The long hall came to an end at last in a big bare
room with a table and two or three chairs scattered around
it. Another feeble lamp spluttered on the table and a
feebler fire in an open grate. Several shabby -looking
men sat before the fire smoking pipes, and one old woman
nodded over her knitting-work among them. When the
hostess and her guests appeared, everybody got up, and,
after a curious stare, shuffled out of the room. The girls
heard their stumbling steps echoing up the stairs and
along the loose floor overhead.
IN A MOMENT THEY WEUE ALL OUTSIDE THE HOUSE.
318
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"I'm Mis' Wickett," the hostess said, sociably, putting
down the lamp and waving her hand with a gesture of
hospitality toward the vacant chairs. "Set down, do.
I'll go tell John to mind your hoss. He's gone to bed, I
reckon, but I can roust him up. John's a dretful good-
natered man about bein' rousted, an' he won't never let
any o' them," nodding upward, "go anigh the barn
nights." At the door she turned back. "This is our
place— hisn an' mine. Them's boarders, so to speak."
She laughed with mysterious, toothless mirth.
"Well?"
"Well?"
"Well?"
That was the extent of the conversation between the
girls till the old woman bustled back. They sat stiffly
upright on the edges of their chairs. Puss giggled feebly
and incessantly. The others looked into the smouldering
coals and listened to the loud, querulous tick-tocking of
the great clock on the mantel over them.
The greens and "b'iled pork" and the suet pudding
were hardly touched, though the girls made sundry he-
roic attempts to eat a few unsavory mouthfuls.
" We had our dinners late," Peggy explained, politely.
"Very late, and we ate a good deal, ma'am," echoed
Puss.
"Well, I shouldn't say t' you was real famishin'.
That pork's our own killin', an' extry fat an' nourishin'."
Margie rose quietly. "Can we go to bed now, if you
please? We're tired, and must get up early to go to our
friend's."
"For the land's sake, yes; you do look kinder peaked
an' wore out. "You'll have to sleep in one bed, but it's
good an' wide. An' you mustn't mind any noises nor
nothin'. Some o' them snores an' threshes round a good
deal, an' the partitions is thin."
Thev went up the creaking stairs, and were ushered
into a small room with one bed and a chair in it. That
was all, except dust and dreariness and the glimmer of a
pale star in at the little window.
The door closed behind the old woman, and the three
girls sank limply down on the bed in a row.
, Peggy was looking hard at the smoky little lamp. "It
won't last more than ten'minutes longer," she whispered,
anxiously.
Margie was looking at the smoky walls all around
them. " Oh, girls," she groaned, softly, " they don't go
'way up at all ! It's just like camp-meeting houses!"
Two-thirds of the way up to the ceiling, to be sure, the
walls suddenly ended and gave dark glimpses into mys-
terious rooms beyond.
Puss giggled under her breath. "It's sort of funny,
isn't it?" she murmured.
"Funny!" Peggy turned on her with a withering
glare, but just then the lamp went out.
In silence the three girls took off their hats and jack-
ets, and lay down in a huddling, disconsolate row on the
uninviting bed. The lamp's unkempt wick sent up a lit-
tle curl of vile smoke, filling the room with unbearable
odor.
Margie sprang up and pried open the window. " What'll
I put under it?" she whispered.
"The lamp," Peggy suggested, promptly.
"No, it's going to stay itself; but I'll set the lamp on
the sill to air— that's a bright idea, Peggy." And Margie
crept cautiously toward the centre of the vile smell.
After a minute she was back beside Puss, and again
there was silence in the room. In a marsh behind the
house a company of frogs were holding high carnival,
and their hoarse voices joined with the faint, mournful
cry of a whippoorwill in a discordant irony of melody.
Beyond the partitions on either side of the room were
occasionally heard the squeakings of beds and uneasy
breathing of mysterious neighbors. But despite their
dismal surroundings three pairs of eyes closed after
a while in healthy, girlish sleep, though their respective
owners asserted next day, in all due honesty, that they
only got a "wink of sleep" in the midst of hours of
waking. Before the east was fairly touched with faint,
lines of light Peggy opened her eyes with a start. The
window had suddenly shut with a thud, and there was a
muffled crash of glass on the ground beneath it. Peggy
lifted herself on an elbow, and tried to think where she
was. Puss stirred and threw her soft warm fingers across
Peggy's cheek.
" Oh, yes, of course, I'm here,'' she thought. Then she
became aware of low voices communing uncouthly be-
yond the partition at her head. She listened uneasily.
"Git up, Bill, will yer? Ain't ye got no sense in ye
nohow?" .
" Lemme alone!"
" Git up, I tell ye! Me 'n' you's got a job o' killin' to
do 'fore them young critters gits woke up enough to
squeal."
The bed creaked and groaned with Bill's weight. He
was evidently getting up.
"Consarn 'em!" he grunted sleepily. "How many
be there, Pete?"
"Three, "the first voice said. "An' they're as purty
'n.' slick as I ever see."
Peggy dropped softly back on the pillow, and covered
her ears. A horrible suspicion took possession of her.
She knew now what dreadful sort of a place they were
in— shut up in a trap and going to be killed in a few min-
utes. The little bare room was filling with a pale golden
light; there wasn't a minute to lose. She was glad they
had bolted the door when they went to bed, but she was
suspicious of the strength of the wooden bolt, and got
up stealthily to examine it. Puss opened her eyes and
watched her coming back across the floor.
" Oh, dear!" she said; " I thought I was at home, and
not in this old dungeon!"
Peggy put her hand over her mouth frantically.
"Oh, hush, hush!" she whispered. "Get up quick.
They're going to murder us right off. We must do
something."
Puss sprang softly to her feet. Her pretty hair was in
a whirl of tangles, and made a wild halo around her
frightened face. " Peggy Hildreth, tell me this minute!"
she whispered, shaking- her violently.
The terrible news was soon told, and Margie awakened
and warned of its import. Then the three girls sat on the
bed and looked their fate firmly in the face.
"Let's holler awfully," Puss whispered, preparing to
do it.
"Oh, no, «o.'" Peggy cried, in a terrified whisper that
woke uncanny, hissing echoes in the rafters overhead.
" We must keep perfectly still, and get away before they
come back with their knives and guns and things." She
ran to the window and peered out. The pieces of the
broken lamp faintly glistened a short distance below. As
the house was built on a sharp inc'ine, there was really
but one story in the rear, and the window out of which
she looked was but a few feet above the ground. The
barn and out-houses were on the other side of the house,
and a big marshy field stretched out before her. There
was no sign of life visible.
" Girls, come here!" she called, softly. " I'm going to
jump, and you must follow quick. It's only a little way,
and nobody's 'round. Then we'll run for dear life across
that field till we find a road somewhere."
"But Dollikins and the carriage?" whispered Margie,
her teeth chattering and her face white.
Pesrgy groaned under her breath, "Dear old Dollikins!
But it's no use; we must do it;" and with a light spring
she landed on the grass. In a moment they were all
outside of the house. Away they all new across the field,
MARCH 5, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
319
their feet making a queer " clusli ! clnsh !" in the soggy
ground, and their hearts beating violently. Out of sight
of the house, in a clump of maples, they stopped for breath.
"Now, what?" panted Peggy.
" Now for home, somehow and somewhere," Puss said,
decidedly. " I'm going home to tell my father about that
gang of murderers, and he'll have them arrested and sent
to Sing Sing right away.'1
" Of course," assented Peggy, eagerly. " And he'll get
my Dollikius for me. He's a judge, and will know just
how to fix 'em — the wicked men!"
The road chanced fortunately to be near at hand, and a
few inquiries set their faces in the direction of home. It
was a long, tedious distance, and they were all faint and
worn out when at last they caught the welcome glimpse
of the red roof of Puss's barn and the curling line of pale
smoke over the house. It was a glad sight indeed to
three excited, flushed, hungry girls.
Margie began to cry. "I'm so happy I don't know
what to do," she sobbed.
Puss giggled, in spite of herself. "You look radiant !"
she cried, putting- her arms around poor Margie and help-
ing her on. "There's papa at the library window reading
the morning Telegram. Now he'll start right oft7, and I
guess those wretches will be in the lock-up before dinner!"
The Judge looked over his glasses in astonishment
when, a minute later, the three runaways stood in a row
before him, all of them talking at once, and telling some
horrible, confused story whose facts stumbled and tripped
over each other in a hopeless tangle. He held up his
hands for silence.
"Wait!" he said, smiling rather anxiously. "Run
out and let mother give you a cup of coffee and some
nourishment. Then come back and we'll straighten
things out a bit. Scamper!"
It was good advice. No steaming cups of coffee ever
sent forth a more fragrant comforting perfume, and never
did muffins and chops taste better. The tired girls ate
in restful silence, and sat back when their plates were
empty with three long sighs of relief and satisfaction.
" I think I'm going to sleep," Peggy said, lazily.
"It's a lovely feeling," murmured Margie, closing her
eyes.
But Puss bustled them off into the library. Slowly
and carefully the Judge drew out the surprising story
and its terrible details. He looked, to the girls' wonder,
not half so excited and wrathful as they expected. To
tell the truth, they were disappointed in his cool serious
face. But he got up at once and began to take off his
dressing--gown.
" Get my boots, Pussie," he said. " I'll drive over and
take a look at these rascals of yours."
"But you'll take a policeman, won't you?" Margie
cried, in terror. "They'll murder you, too!"
"Oh, yes, papa, please do!"
" Oh, do!" echoed Peggy.
The Judge smiled and went out. Puss's mother in-
sisted that the girls should go up into Puss's room and
rest quietly until he came back, and they were not at all
loath to obey.
Peggy seized a bottle of cologne and buried her nose
in it luxuriantly. "To take away the smell of that
smoky lamp!" she exclaimed.
A great sense of gratitude crept into all their hearts.
They sat in the cozy chairs and looked at each other with
sober, contented eyes.
By-and-by, when the lunch-bell rang, they went down,
to find the Judge silting at the table. His eyes were
twinkling.
" Well, girls, rested any?" he said. "I found your
house. It's the county poorhouse, you know. And
those three pigs they killed there this morning are as.
likely and fat a set of grunters as I ever saw."
THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF TOMMY
TODDLES.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHATTER XII.
THE Gargoyle shifted about in the sand until he got his stone
legs comfortably fixed, and blinked his red eyes at bis au-
ditors, especially at Tommy, who sat beside him with his legs
crossed, like a tailor, and his face resting on his hands, his el-
bows on his knees. The little boy was all attention.
" It was the largest congregation of animals I ever witnessed,"
began the stone image. "There were more here to-day than I
ever saw at a Jabbergather."
" What is a Jabbergather ?" interrupted Tommy.
"Tell him what a Jabbergather is," said the Gargoyle, turn-
ing to the Sheep.
"A Jabbergather," explained the latter, somewhat ungrani-
matieally, " is when the animals gather together and jabber
about tilings that have happened."
" Oh, a sort of five-o'clock tea," said Tommy.
"No," replied the Gargoyle; "because a Jabbergather is al-
ways held at night, and they don't drink tea. They eat mush-
rooms."
" How indigestible," thought Tommy.
"And you must not interrupt any more," said the Sheep.
"Well," continued the Gargoyle, without heeding the Sheep's
remonstrance to the little boy." tin-re were about twice as many
animals as como to a Jabbergather, and the fishes all sat on the
waves, many rows of them, reaching far out to sea."
"Like seats in a theatre," put in Tommy.
" Shut up !" growled the Sheep, and Tommy subsided again.
"Of course the Pengniu and the Sword-fish were ready to
fight, and the Horned Owl, who was to be referee, was on hand.
But just before the duel began there was a great rumpus on tin-
third wave from the front, which created such a commotion
that we had to send a Monkey and a Porpoise out there to see
u I Ml I lie trouble was."
" How did you happen to send a Monkey ?" asked Tommy,
much to the Sheep's evident displeasure.
•• \Ve sent him on Porpoise.'1 answered the Gargoyle. "They
canie back and told us that the Sole and the Flounder were sit-
ing on the same wave, and had gotten into a row."
•' The same old dispute, I suppose," remarked the Sheep.
"The same one they had at the last Jabbergather," assented
the Gargoyle.
"And what did they dispute a bout f" asked Tommy, who was
very anxious to kuow all about what was going on.
" May / tell him ?" urged the ex-Pirate. " I've made a classic
out of it."
"Certainly, go ahead." said the Gargoyle, who did not appear
to be at all annoyed by these continual interruptions.
" Said the Sole to the Flounder,
' You shameless old rounder,
I'd have you to understand clearly
That your constant assumption
Of my rightful function
Shall be punished — and punished severely.'
"But the Flounder, he laughed
And gurgled and chaffed,
And said, without any apology,
' If men are such moles
They take Flounders for Soles,
I'm sure I can't teach them iehthology.' "
"Uncle Dick told me once that you could not tell a Flounder
from a Sole," ventured Tommy. But the Sheep frowned severe-
ly at this, and said: "Now nobody must interrupt any more;"
and the Gargoyle then proceeded with his narrative.
"After the Sole and the Flounder had lieen separated, the
Horned Owl called Time, who came in out of the pasi and sat
down on his hour-glass at the side of the ring. The duel then
began. The Sword-fish fought with his sword, and the Penguin
fought with a long pen that looked like a spear. I tell you it
was exciting! They jabbed ami struck each other, and ran
around on the sand, and fell down and got up again, and all the
animals kept shrieking and shunting, and the Seals, kept yell-
ing,''rah! 'rah! 'rah!' It was immense! Time must have got-
ten scared, for he flew. The duel kept on, nevertheless, and
pretty soon the Sword-fish began to show signs of weariness.
The Penguin kept jabbing him with his pen, and thinsiini; at
him until he finally knocked him down, and the Sword-fish eric-d
for mercy. The Horned Owl called Time again, but Time had
320
HARPER'S 5TOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
THE (iAldiuVLE TELLS THE STORY OF THE FIGHT.
flown so fast that he was away up in the clouds. So the Homed
Owl looked at him and said Time was up, and then t IK- tight was
all over, and the Penguin had proved himself to be mightier than
the Sword-fish."
The Gargoyle had scarcely finished his story when there was
a great hubbub in the. direction of the house, and hundreds of
little Crabs came surging around the corner shouting at the
tops of their voices :
" Extra ! Extra// / Extrec ! All about de big fight !"
They scampered off in all directions along the beach, and some
of them rushed into the breakers and disappeared under the sea.
They all had little bundles of papers under their arms, and were
hastening away to dispose of their wares.
"The extra is out," said the Gargoyle. "You cau get one
now and read a detailed account of the great battle for your-
self."
"How curious!" mused Tommy. " I never thought before to
look to see if little crabs were carrying anything wheu I have
seen them running along the beach."
When all the Crabs had disappeared the printer's Devil-fish
came out and sat on the frout stoop of the house, and presently
the Penguin himself sauntered over to the group sitting in the
sand and stood beside them.
"Now," he said to the Sheep, "I am at your disposal."
" I don't suppose it's of any use for rne to ask you if you have
seen my animals ?" said Tommy, before the Sheep could answer.
"Not of the slightest use," replied the Penguin, haughtily.
" Editors never see anything," and to emphasize this statement
he took a pair of blue spectacles, which he had been holding in
one hand, and put them on. "We look at everything through
colored glasses."
" More's the pity," said the Sheep. " But if you have not act-
ually seen the animals, can't you tell us what direction they
took wheu they went away ?"
"Certainly," said the Penguin. "They started that way."
" Yes, that way," repeated the Gargoyle ; " off over the dunes
and iu toward the hills and the forest."
"Then we must go that way too," said Tommy, getting up
from the sand, feeling very much rested; aud his companions
did likewise, aud they all bade farewell to the stone image and
to the Penguin. As they passed over the duues they looked back
and saw tlie Gargoyle laboriously climbing back to his perch on
the house-top.
"He's that way," murmur-
ed the ex-Pirate.
The three walked for
some time in silence over
sand hills and through un-
derbrush, and pretty soon
they took a road that led
through some broad and
sunny fields.
Away off, as far as they
could see, Tommy noticed a
cloud of dust, and what
looked to him like a moving
crowd of some sort.
"Those must be my ani-
mals !" he exclaimed.
The ex-Pirate climbed on
a fence, aud put his hand up
over his eyes, and stared as
hard as he could at the
things the little boy had
pointed out. to him.
"They are animals," he
said, finally. "I cau see
them plainly. There are
two of each kind, and they
are walking in pairs."
" Those are mine, surely !"
cried the little boy, now
greatly excited. "Let us
run aud catch up with
them."
" Yes, let's run," chimed
both the Sheep and the ex-
Pirate; aud the three imme-
diately started off at break-
neck speed down the road
in the direction of the dust
cloud. Tommy felt as
though he bad never run so fast in his lite. The fence posts
aud bushes fairly whizzed past him. His companions kept pn-tty
well abreast of him at first, but they gradually fell behind, and
after a while, when Tommy looked back over his shoulder, they
appeared only like specks far back on the yellow highway. The
little boy tried to slow up in order to wait for them, but his legs
had got to goiug so fast that he could not stop himself. He was
travelling along the road at a terrific rate, and all the time he
was rapidly approaching the procession of animals that uow
seemed to be fully life size. The lions aud tigers and leopards
looked very fierce, and yet Tommy felt as if he could not stop
himself from running right into them, aud he began to get very
much frightened. Pretty soon he was almost on top of the Guinea
Pigs, and in his terror he stumbled head over heels, and shouted:
"Oh! oh! oh!"
Then he opened his eyes and found himself lying on his back
on his own window-seat iu the play-room, and his mother was
leaning over him iu the twilight.
"Come, little man, wake up," she said, as she pushed his hair
back from over his little warm face and eyes. " You have been
sleeping here like a little pig all the afternoon."
"Have I ?" said Tommy, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
" Aud, oh, mamma, I've had such a funny dream," he added.
Then he looked at his Noah's Ark on the floor, aud sawr his
woodeu animals standing two aud two,just as he bad placed
them there hours ago. " I have been dreaming about them,
mamma, "he continued, pointing to his toys. " 1 thought they
had run away and I went after them, and I had such a long
journey, and saw all sorts of things — Burglars, Pirates, aud a
nice woolly Sheep, and a Penguin, a Loon, a Welsh Rabbit, a
Gargoyle, and the queerest creature iu the world, called Thing-
umbob.''
"I'm afraid that two pieces of plum pudding are too much
for my little boy, "said his mother, with a smile. "But come
down to supper now, aud there you may tell us all about your
wonderful dream."
So he washed his face and hands and went down with his
mother to the dining-room, and after supper he told them all
about the strange adventures of Tommy Toddles.
THE END.
BOBBY (looking at sky just before an evening shower). " Mamma,
where are all the stars ? Do they have to go to bed early too ?"
HARPERS
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1895, by HARFKK & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 802.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, MARCH 12, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLAUS A TEAR.
BUDD WILDER'S JUDGMENT.
BY WILLIAM D R Y S D A L E.
11HREE thousand boxes of oranges, at $2 50 a box, are
worth §7500. Budd Wilder has figured that up a
hundred times within the last few weeks, but even yet he
can hardly believe that the amount is correct. It seems
too large a sum for a boy of sixteen to have made for his
father in one day simply by the exercise of good judg-
ment.
Budd is a Northern boy, but his home is in Florida, in
the orange-growing region. His father, Major Wilder,
saw something of the South in war-times; and when his
health failed a few years ago, he determined to take
his family to Florida and buy an orange grove. He had
not as much money as an old soldier and a good business
man ought to have, but by giving a mortgage he was
able to buy a grove of moderate size, in the midst of
which stood a comfortable two-story house with a broad
veranda in front, and a driveway leading down to the
gate lined on both sides with tall oleanders and Spanish-
bayonets and fig-trees and bananas.
"It is not only on my own account that I have come
down here," the Major said to Budd; ''it is largely I'm-
the sake of you and your brother Harry. In this thinly
settled country you will have to learn to rely upon your-
selves, and that is one of the most important things for a
322
HARPER'S TOUJSTG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
hoy to learn. You shall eacli have a pony, and you must
learn to take care of them. When your saddle-girth
breaks, you must mend it; there is no one to do it for
you. Whenever anything happens, make up your mind
what is the right thing to do. and do it. Do not hesitate
to take responsibility when it is necessary. If you al-
ways depend upon me, you will never amount to any-
thing."
Last December Budcl Wilder was just past sixteen, and
people said that lie was one of the finest boys in the
neighborhood. He was large for his age, and plump,
with cheeks as brown as a berry from exposure to the
Florida sun, and hands several degrees browner than his
face. His brother Harry was a year and a half younger,
and each of the boys had a score of orange-trees of his
own, which he cultivated and cared for himself, and re-
ceived all the profits from. The Major and all the family
were feeling remarkably comfortable, for every tree on
the place was fairly loaded down with oranges. Many of
them had to be propped up to prevent the limbs from
breaking. Never before had such a crop been known all
over the State. The prospect was that the mortgage on
the grove would be paid off, and all the little debts settled,
and a snug sum left to put in bank.
" I estimate that there are over 3000 boxes on the trees,
Budd," the Major said, " and Gravely of Jacksonville
lias offered me a dollar a box for them as they stand.
But I am not willing to sell for that. I think that if I
let them stand till February, I can get $1 50 a box, and
the extra §1500 is worth waiting for."
" The crop is so good," the Major went on, " and every-
thing looks so bright, that your mother and I are think-
ing of giving ourselves a little treat. We are thinking
of going North to spend the Christmas holidays, leaving
you and Harry here to take care of the place. I shall
leave everything in your charge, for I don't believe in
divided responsibility."
It was in this way, it happened that on the 23d of De-
cember Budd found himself in complete charge of an
orange grove with more than §3000 worth of fruit on the
trees. He and Harry were not alone on the place, for
Betty, the old colored woman, was there to do the cook-
ing, and there were two colored men.
On the morning of the 23d of December there was no-
thing either in the weather report or in the sky to give
him any anxiety, and it was the same on the 24th. But
on Christmas morning he rode home from the post-office
with a troubled expression in his face.
" I don't half like the looks of things, Harry," he said.
"The thermometer went down to thirty-six last night,
and the paper says there's a cold wave coming from the
Northwest. It would be a terrible thing if these 3000
boxes of oranges should freeze while father is away.
You know what that would mean; we'd lose the entire
crop, and then I don't know where we should be, with
the mortgage to pay off and bills at the stores."
"Oh, pshaw!" Harry replied; "you're always fretting
about the weather. It's all moonshine to talk about
freezing when it's so hot here in the sun we can't wear
our coats. If freezing weather comes, we can't stop it,
and we'll just have to put up with it, that's all. Father
can't blame us for what the weather does, and you know
oranges will stand a temperature of 28° without harm,
anyhow."
"Yes, it's hot enough in the sun," Budd retorted;
"but there is no sun at night, and it's the cold nights
that may hurt us. 1 should never forgive myself if any-
thing should happen to the oranges while the folks are
away."
On the next day, the 26th, there was no change in the
weather. So far there had been no frost, but it was cold
enough at night to keep a blazing fire in the fireplace.
\Yheii the 27th came it was no colder, but the paper said
the cold wave was coming nearer; it had reached Ken-
tucky and Tennessee, and was travelling southward.
Budd was more worried than ever. A drop of ten de-
grees in the night temperature would ruin every orange
in the grove, and almost ruin the Wilder family.
Then came the paper of the 28th. which was Friday.
" Heavy frosts in the northern part of the State." it said.
"The cold wave advancing southward. Colder weather
all over Florida to-night."
On his way home from the post-office Budd hardly sa^v
a foot of the road, for he was busy thinking. The cold
wave was coming, and the family's fortunes were at
stake. He felt a tremendous responsibility upon his
shoulders, and he would have given the world for a word
of advice from his father; but no father was there, and
he had to depend upon himself. When he reached home
he was still undecided whether anything could or should
be done, and he went straight to his room and locked the
door. When he came out his mind was made up.
"Harry,'" he said, "things look very serious. The
thermometer went down to 33° last night, and the cold
wave will strike us to-night. We may lose all our or-
anges. I think it would be possible to have them all pick-
ed this afternoon and to-night, and get them in out of
danger. What do you think about it?"
"I think that having charge of this grove has turned
your head," Harry replied. "You talk like a crazy
man. How could we have 3000 boxes of oranges picked
in one afternoon? Why, it would take fifty men to do
it."
"Yes, just about fifty men," Bndd said; "and I think
I can get them. Instead of paying the usual price for
picking, four cents a box, I can oft'er ten cents to make
the men work faster. That will cost about $300,, but it
will be better than losing our oranges. I want your
opinion about it."
"My opinion is that you had better let the oranges
alone," Harry answered, very decidedly. "I think fa-
ther will have something lively to say to you when In-
comes home, if you make such a fool of yourself. Look
at Thompson's, the next place; they're not picking; no-
body is picking. Don't think you know more about the
weather than all these old growers."
"Very well," Budd exclaimed. "I have obeyed or-
ders and consulted with you. Now I shall obey them
still further and act according to my own judgment. I
am going to pick the oranges, if it is possible to get the
men. I expect you to give me your help, even though
your opinion is different. I want you to take down all the
beds and make as much room in the house as you can.
It will take every room to store them in, but we must
keep the kitchen to live in. Will you help me?"
"Of course," Harry answered; "if you take the re-
sponsibility. But wont you catch it when father comes
home !"
Ten minutes later the two colored hands were hurry-
ing to the post-office and the stores after pickers; and
Budd was riding like mad to Eatonville, the colored set-
tlement, where he hoped to find plenty of idle men. Ten
cents a box! Why, a man could make over five dollars
between noon and midnight, working part of the time by
moonlight. Yes, indeed; every unemployed man was
ready to work at such a price. Before eleven o'clock
thirty men were (licking oranges in the grove. By noon
then- were sixty men at work, and none of them stopped
for dinner; they could not afford it, when they were
making money so fast.
In two or three hours the house was a sight. Who
ever saw a house before with oranges piled several feet
deep in every room, and the piles growing deeper every
minute? But down came the oranges; and the neigh-
bors, seeing what was going on, began to talk.
"That's what comes of letting that boy have his own
HARGII 12, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
323
way so much," said one. " His father seems to think hi'
ought to know as much as a man. Who'd think a boy
would do such a tiling? and his father away, too! It's
going to lose the Major a clean thousand dollars, that job
is. If any boy of mine did such a thing-, I'd give him a
lesson he'd not forget in a hurry."
When the sun went down the men built little fires in
the grove to warm their hands. The thermometer >aid
29. and 29 is extremely cold weather for Florida. Budd
had a clear place lefl about the great stove in the sitting--
room ; and Harry's work was to pile in wood aud keep a
big fire to warm the whole house.
Eiulil felt the weight of a nation resting upon his shoul-
ders. Perhaps he was losing hundreds of dollars for his
father; "but I am using my best judgment," lie said to
himself. Twenty times an hour he looked at the ther-
mometer. At seven o'clock it was down to 27°; at
eight o'clock, 26°. Then he went out among the men.
"Rush them along, boys!" he called out. "They can't
stand more than two hours of this weather. There's a
•dollar apiece extra for you if you have the trees clean by
ten o'clock."
And the men did it, by the hardest kind of hard work.
By ten o'clock not an orange could be seen on the trees
under flic bright moonlight, and the house was piled full
of them. When Budd looked at the thermometer it said
22°. He knew what that meant. Every orange in every
neighboring grove was ruined. The weight was lifted
from his shoulders, but he began to worry then about
his neighbors' losses.
After the pickers went home Budd and Harry sat by
the big stove, and kept the fire roaring. The house mu.st
be kept warm or the oranges might still freeze. Both
had to laugh at the wonderful appearance of the house,
though neither felt like laughing. Budd was full of ex-
citement, and Harry was shivering with cold. At mid-
night Harry went out to look at the thermometer, and
when lie returned he held out his hand to Budd.
"Shake, old man!" he said. "I'll own up that you
were right and I was wrong. Do you know what the
thermometer is now? It's 18°. You've saved the Wilder
family, sure. I don't see what ever put it. into your head
that it was going to be so cold. Nobody else has picked
any oranges, aud of course everything that's left out is
ruined."
Budd was hardly able to reply as he took Harry's hand.
The excitement had kept kim up; but now that it was
over, and the oranges were safe, he felt weak.
"You don't know what I've been through. Harry. "he
said. "It seems like a nightmare, though it has all
turned out so well for us. Everybody was against me,
and I guess everybody laughed at me. I know the pick-
ers were laughing in their sleeves while they were at
work; they thought it was a foolish boy's notion, and
they might as well make all they could out of it. But
I cannot turn around and laugh at the others now, for
the poor fellows have lost nearly everything they have
in the world."
There was no going to bed that night, for the fire must
be kept up. At three o'clock in the morning, when Budd
went out again to look at the thermometer, it registered
lli°. It was the night of the great freeze of 1894, the
great freeze of December 28th and 29th, when the weather
was colder in Florida than it had been before since 1835.
Millions of dollars' worth of oranges were ruined that
night, and thousands of trees were killed.
"There was just one thing kept me up," Budd said,
after a while. " You know how often father has told me,
'make up your mind what is right, then do it. Rely
upon yourself.' Well. I made up my mind that the
oranges ought to come in. I had to rely upon myself,
for here were all these old orange-growers around us pay-
ing no attention to the weather, and it was just the same
as if I had told them that they didn't understand their
business. But I followed my own judgment, and the
oranges are safe. I'm afraid we'd have lost our name,
Harry, if we had lost this big crop."
"What are you going to do with them, now that you
have them in the house?" Harry asked.
"Sell them, of course," Budd replied; "but I don't
know yet just how. It's enough for one day to have
them safe inside. They ought to be worth more than
ever, now that so many others have been frozen."
On the day after the great freeze, the 30th of December,
the weather remained so cold that the boys could do little
but stay in the house and keep the fire burning. But
the next day, the 31st, was full of excitement for
them. First of all came the newspaper, with its glaring
headlines, "The Orange Crop Ruined." "A Terrible
Calamity has Befallen the State." " Not a Marketable
Orange is Left in Florida." Then two or three hours
later there arrived a fruit-buyer from Jacksonville. He
was travelling about to see how much damage had been
done, and to buy any good fruit that he could find. He
had heard the story of Budd's picking the entire crop be-
fore the freeze, and was anxious to buy it.
" I will give you a dollar anrfa half a box for the entire
lot, just as it lies," he said, after examining the oranges.
" Can't sell them for that," Budd replied. " Oranges are
scarce now, and these are the only sound ones I know
of."
"Two dollars," said the buyer.
" No, I can't take less than two and a half." Budd
answered. This was a sudden inspiration; his brightest
hope had been to get $1 50 a box for them.
"I will take them at two and a half," the buyer said.
"Cash on delivery ?" said Budd.
" Cash on delivery," echoed the buyer.
While the nian was out in search of teams to draw the
oranges to the nearest packing- house a colored boy
brought in a telegram. It was from Major Wilder, and
came from Jacksonville.
" Will be home this evening," the message said. " Meet
us at the station."
" There's a mistake I made!" Budd exclaimed, snapping
his fingers impatiently. "I should have telegraphed
father that we were all right. The news of this freeze
has gone North, and father must be worried to death
about it."
He drove over to the station to meet the evening train,
and what he saw made his heart sick. The weather had
grown warmer, and every frozen leaf had begun to turn
brown. The trees, instead of a bright green, looked like
Northern forest trees in winter; and beneath them the
ground was yellow with frozen and useless oranges.
"Oh, Budd, Budd, my poor boy!" Mrs. Wilder ex-
claimed, throwing her arms around Budd's neck on the
station platform. " I don't know what will become of
us all." She had seen the frozen trees all along the rail-
road track.
" We are all right, mother," Budd answered. " I picked
the entire crop before the freeze came."
"What is that!" Major Wilder exclaimed, excitedly
seizing Budd by the shoulder. "You saved the
crop!"
"Yes, sir; every orange," Budd replied. "I got sixty
men, and had them all picked last Friday afternoon, and
this morning I sold them all for 82 50 a box, cash on de-
livery. I was a little doubtful about doing it; but you
know you have often told me to 'Make up my mind what
is right, then do it.' I made up my mind that the oranges
ought to be picked, so I picked them."
"Then you have saved us from ruin, my boy," Major
Wilder said; and his eyes were moist. "It is a grand
principle, and he is a grand man who follows it — 'Make
up your mind what is right, then do it!'"
324
HAEPEPv'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
THE TURTLE'S WISH.
BY ALBERT LEE.
T7WERY one in tlie house had gone to bed, and the sit-
_tj ting-room was shrouded in almost perfect silence.
The lights were out, but the embers in the fireplace glowed
just warmly enough to throw a faint yellow light across
the leopard - skin lying in front of the hearth, and the
only sounds that disturbed the absolute stillness of the
night were the ticking of the Swiss clock on the wall op-
posite and the occasional dropping of a dying coal from
the grate into the ash heap. Presently there was a rattle
of wheels, and a little door just below the face of the
clock flew open, and a funny little carved bird thrust its
head out and shouted:
"Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!"
The bird repeated this twelve times and then jumped
back into the clock just as the door slammed to again
with a bang that seemed almost loud in the prevailing
stillness. The Leopard-skin lifted its head up slightly
and yawned.
"I wish that dreadful bird would shut up at night,"
he muttered. " There is no one about to hear it, and for
my own part I'd like to get a chance to sleep in peace."
The little door flew open again, and the Cuckoo peeked
out and looked over toward the fireplace.
"I heard you," exclaimed the bird. "I heard you.
But you need not think I am as bad as you are. It's my
business to cuckoo all night as well as all day, and I
mean to attend to my duties whether there is anybody
about to hear me or not. That's why I'm called a Cuckoo.
If you don't like it, roll yourself up in camphor and put
yourself away for the summer."
"Tut! tut!" said the Dresden China Shepherd on the
mantel-piece. "Don't quarrel. Night is too short for
that sort of thing. And, besides, we hear the people quar-
relling all day; let us have a rest at night."
" That's what I said, "growled the Leopard-skin. "Give
us a rest."
"But it is not' the Cuckoo's fault," put in the Gnome,
who dangled at the end of the chain which hung down
from the Swiss clock.
"Don't you speak until you're spoken to," snapped the
Leopard-skin. " Can't you wait?"
" I am a weight, "retorted the Gnome.
"Come, come, now," the Dresden China Shepherd ex-
postulated again. " Stop this quarrelling."
"Yes, stop this quarrelling," echoed the Dresden China
Shepherdess, at the other end of the mantel-piece. " We
don't quarrel," and she blushed sweetly, and made eyes
at the Shepherd, who looked very much pleased, and
nodded his head quite approvingly.
After a short pause the Gnome spoke again.
"I'm only about two inches from the floor," he said.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed the Cuckoo, peering over
the door-sill and gazing down toward the carpet.
"They forgot to pull me up to-night," continued the
Gnome. "In less than half an hour I shall be on the
floor."
"Then the clock will stop," exclaimed the Shepherd,
with great concern.
" Yes, and then that bird will be out of a job," growled
the Leopard-skin.
No one paid any attention to this remark. The Swiss
clock went on ticking regularly as the wooden pendulum
swung to and fro, and the coals kept on dropping at in-
tervals from the grate. After a while the pendulum be-
gan moving slower and slower, and the ticking grew
fainter and fainter, until at last it stopped altogether.
Then there was a sort of shuffling noise as if something
was moving about on the carpet, and pretty soon the
Gnome's voice was heard to say, timidly,
"I'm on my feet."
"Whose feet would you expect to be on?" snarled the
Leopard-skin. "You'd better not get on mine."
"You have not got any," replied the Gnome, sharply.
"You have not got any inside, anyway. You are all
outside, trimmed with red flannel!''
" Well, I have not lost my head yet," muttered the Skin ;
and then he added, "Is the Cuckoo going to sing any
more?"
" I can't, "replied the bird; "the Clock has stopped."
"Good for the Clock."
"To tell the truth," continued the Cuckoo, apologet-
ically, "I'm glad to get a rest myself. If you were not
so horrid I'd like to come over by the fire and get
warm."
"Oh, come on!" said the Leopard skin, quite affably
(and the Dresden China Shepherdess murmured, " Isn't he
nice!"), "I didn't mean you any harm; only I do get so
tired of your continual shrieking at every hour."
" It is not the Cuckoo's fault," said the Gnome, for the
second time.
" Why isn't it?" asked the Shepherd, who felt he ought
to contribute his share toward the general reconciliation.
"Why isn't it?" repeated the Gnome, in surprise.
"Why, because she's a Cuckoo, of course. Didn't you
know that all Cuckoos are suffering under the Turtle's
curse?"
" Never heard of that," said the Shepherd.
"Nor I." added the Leopard-skin.
" Oh, do tell us about it !" pleaded the little Shepherdess.
So the Gnome let go of the long clock-chain, and went
over to the fireplace. The Cuckoo flapped its wooden
wings and flew down to the hearth, and both the Statuettes
clambered down the lambrequin, and stood together near
the Gnome in order to hear his explanation of how it was
that the Cuckoos were cursed by the Turtle.
"Well, it was a long time ago, of course," began the
Gnome, having seated himself comfortably on the fender
— " almost long enough ago for me to begin by saying,
' Once upon a time.'
" The old Turtle lived down by the swamp, and had a
very easy time of it, and withal was a very good old
Turtle. One day he got a message from his brother, who
lived near the pond over the hill, saying that two little new
Turtlets had just arrived, and asking him to come over to
the christening the next day. So the Turtle got up bright
and early that morning, and polished his shell until it
shone in the sunlight like burnished gold, and then he
started off along the road toward the pond. He had not
gone very far when he came to a beautiful wild-rose bush
in full bloom, and underneath it sat Agathea, the pretty
little forest fairy.
" ' Good-morning, Mr. Turtle,' said Agathea.
"'Good-morning, pretty one,' answered the Turtle,
very politely. ' You look as sweet as the dawn of a May
morning.'
" 'And where are you going so early in the day?' asked
the Fairy, blushing with pleasure at the Turtle's compli-
ment.
" ' I'm going over the hill and down to the pond, where
my brother has two little Turtlets that are to be christ-
ened to-day.'
"'Two little Turtlets!' exclaimed Agathea. 'And
will you take them a present from me?'
"'With the greatest pleasure,' said the Turtle, for he
knew that a present from the forest fairy could not but
be welcome to his nephews.
"Agathea picked up a little box from the moss under
tli£ rose bush, and handed it to the Turtle.
" 'In this box,' she said, ' is a wish. You may have
it. Think of what you would most like to happen, and
say the words out loud when you open the box. Then
your wish will come true. Be very careful about keep-
ing the box closed until you get to the christening, for if
MARCH 12, 1895.
HARPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
325
you should wish for something on the way and open the
box, then that wish would be granted. You must
wish in the presence of the ones the wish is to affect.
So be careful, and wish in the presence of the Turt-
lets.1
"Saying this, Agathea gave the box to the Turtle, and
bade him good luck on his journey. He thanked her
effusively, and continued on his way. He plodded along
up the hill, which was a good deal longer and a good deal
steeper than he had expected to find it, and after a while,
as the sun kept getting higher and higher in the heavens,
he began to fear he would be late at the christening. So
he hurried on as fast as he could, and soon he found him-
self passing through a woods where there were any num-
ber of cuckoos. They all appeared to be very busy build-
ing nests for the little cuckoos, and they did not pay
much attention to
old Uncle Turtle,
who was crawling
along as hard as
he could with his
wish -box in one
hand. Pretty soon
he stopped and
spoke to one of the
cuckoos.
" 'Good -morn-
ing, Mr. Cuckoo,'
he said. ' Can
you tell me what
time it is?'
"But the Cuc-
koo was so busy
that he did not
pay any attention
to the Turtle's re-
quest.and present-
ly flew away. The
Turtle went on a
little further and
met another.
" ' Please, Mr.
Cuckoo,' he be-
gan, 'can you tell
me what time it
is? I am going
to the christening
of the little Turt-
le ts, and I am
afraid I shall be
Jate.'
"'I guess you
will,' answered
the Cuckoo ; and
he went on build-
ing his nest, but
he wouldn't tell
the Turtle what
time it was. The latter was getting very angry by this
time, because he had never been treated so impolitely
before by the cuckoos or by any one else, but he went oil
a liltle further, and every time he met a cuckoo he asked
what time it was. Some of them paid no attention to
him, others said they did not know the hour, and others
again told him they had no time to stop and fuss witli
turtles. So the Turtle kept getting angrier and angrier,
iind by the time he had reached the top of the hill he was
the angriest old Turtle you ever saw. There he met
two more cuckoos, and he spoke to these as a last ef-
fort.
; ' Please, Mr. and Mrs. Cuckoo, what time of day is it?
I am going to the christening of the liltle Turtlets,
and—'
the Turtlets,' said one of the Cuckoos,
; ' Bother
sharply.
'We don't know what time it is,' added the
other.
" These replies made the Turtle so angry that he did not
know what to do. He looked down at his box, and on
seeing it, he remembered that by opening it he could have
any wish he wanted. So for the moment he forgot all
about the Turtlets, and he said to himself, 'I'll just wish
something about these cuckoos that will make them sorry
they did not tell me what time it was.'
" Then he crawled up on a stone, and prepared to open
the box, saying out loud as he did so:
' 'May all the cuckoos that ever live be compelled to
tell the time of day. Every hour shall they call the time
out loud, so that all within hearing may know.'
"And as he
said this, the Tur-
tle opened the box
arid let the Wish
escape. All at
once every cuc-
koo in the woods
began to tell him
what time it was,
and from what
they said he knew
he was almost too
late for the christ-
ening. But he
hurried on, and
when he came to
the pond he told
the Turtlets all
about what had
happened to him,
and although
they were not
much pleased at
the use he had
made of Aga-
thea's gift (for lit-
tle turtles have
no appreciation of
time), yet they
were so glad to
see their uncle
that they did not
cry.
" And so,"cou-
cluded the
Gnome, " on ac-
count of the Tur-
tle's wish, every
cuckoo has to call
out the time of
day every hour in
the twenty-four."
"What did Agathea say when she found it out?" asked
the Dresden China Shepherdess.
"I can't tell you about that now," said the Gnome.
" See, it is getting early."
And it was. The embers had died away into a cold
grayness, and the first faint rays of dawn were creeping in
through the drawn curtains. So the Statuettes climbed
hastily back to their places on the mantel -piece, the
Cuckoo, flew up to the clock, the Gnome hastened back
to his chain, and the Leopard-skin stretched himself out
in front of the fireplace again. When the maid came in,
a few hours later, to clean up, she saw that the Swiss
clock had stopped at half past twelve, but she pulled the
little Gnome up by his chain, and in a few moments the
Cuckoo was hard at work again calling out the hours.
MAY ALL THE CUCKOOS THAT EVER LIVE BE COMPELLED TO TELL THE TIM 1C '
326
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
I; V KIRK MUNROE,
AUTHOR OF " DOK.YMATES," " RAFJMATES," " CAMPMATF.S," F.TC.
CHAPTER III.
MEASLES AND MUTINY.
I S Phil realized the full gravity of the situation he
1\. instinctively shrank from assuming- the responsibili-
ty so unexpectedly thrust upon him. One of his Aunt
Ruth's long-ago stories of a poor little bear who found
himself alone in the great big world with all his troubles
before him Hashed into the boy's mind, and he said to
himself, "This little bear's troubles have met him, sure
enough, and in full force."
But why should he assume this responsibility? This
was not his expedition, and he had 110 interest in it save
that of a passenger. It did not seem at all likely that it.
could succeed now, and as they must apparently return
to St. Michaels sooner or later, why not do so at once,
and get out of this scrape the easiest way possible?
But hold on, Phil Ryder! Have you not also been
paid, at the very highest rate too, by the man who now
lies so helpless before you, and whose fortunes are in
your hands? Did he not rescue you from certain death
out there in those cold cruel waters, when your bidarkie
was on the point of foundering? Did you not gladly ac-
cept his offer to accompany him on this trip when all
appeared smooth sailing? Have you not been fed and
clothed at his expense? Above all, has he not proved his
confidence in you by appointing you to a position of
trust? Are such things as gratitude and loyalty unknown
to you? You were proud to be called first mate yester-
day, and now you shrink from performing the first and
most evident duty of the office.
These thoughts, which flashed through Phil's mind in
a few seconds, stung him as though they had been so
many clearly uttered words. The hot blood rushed to
his cheeks, and with a very determined look on his face
the lad walked forward. He found Serge in the pilot-
house, and at once laid the situation before him. In con-
clusion, he said :
'' We must make some move at once, for this westerly
wind is kicking up such a sea that our anchors won't
hold much longer. So, under the circumstances, as the
present command of this craft seems to devolve on me, I
propose to continue on our course, get rid of that fellow
Strengel at the first opportunity, and push on up the river
until our further progress is barred by ice,or until we dis-
cover a good place in which to lay the boat up for the
winter. We must surely find white men somewhere
who will help us, too."
" Yes," replied Serge, "we are certain to if we can
only get as far as the Anvik Mission. At any rate, Phil,
what you propose to do is exactly, the right thing, and
you can count on me to back you up to the last gasp."
"I knew I could, old man," replied Phil, warmly.
" Now let's go below and make ready to start."
Calling on the two millwrights to follow them, Phil
and Serge made their way to the engine-room, where
they found the engineer just rousing from a heavy sleep,
which Phil suspected had been aided by liquor.
"Mr. Sims," said he, " what would be the effect if a
cylinder-head should blow out under full steam?"
"The effect," replied the engineer, slowly, and evi-
dently surprised at the question, " why, any one who
happened to be in range would be killed, all in this p;iri
of the boat would be more or less scalded, and the
chances are that this expedition would come to a very
sudden termination."
"Of course yours is all right?"
"Certainly. I examined it only yesterday," replied
the engineer, testily. "Now, if you are through with
your foolish questions, it seems to me you'd better notify
the Captain that everything is ready for a start. I don't
want to waste steam by blowing off, and there's more on
now than we ought to carry."
" Would you mind stepping this way a moment?"
asked Phil, taking the engine-room lantern and holding
it back of the cylinder.
Moved by curiosity as to what the young seal-hunter
could be up to. the engineer stepped forward, gave one
look, and uttered a cry of horror. More than half the
bolts holding the massive cylinder- head in place had
been loosened.
"Upon my honor I knew nothing of this thing, Mr.
Ryder." he gasped.
"Of course you didn't." answered Phil, grimly, " for
it was done while you were sleeping off the effect of
those brandied peaches. Where is Strengel?"
"He is aft somewhere; but surely, Mr. Ryder, you
don't suspect him of this dastardly act?"
" Go and tell him to come here," ordered Phil, turning
to one of the millwrights. In a moment the man re-
turned, and reported that Strengel claimed to be too busy
to come just then.
With an expressive glance at his friend, Phil left the
engine-room, and Serge followed him. A minute later,
in the resistless grasp of the two athletic young fellows,
Mr. Strengel was being rushed along the deck so rapidly
as to suggest that he had very imperative business in the
engine-room.
"Here, gentlemen, is the man who did that thing,"
cried Phil, as he gave the breathless and trembling wretch
a shove that landed him in a corner.
" So help me, Mr. Ryder—" he began, abjectly.
"Shut up!" shouted Phil, "and don't you dare speak
again until you are spoken to. There is no doubt of his
guilt, gentlemen, for I saw him loosening those bolts as
plainly as I see him now, when I came down here awhile
ago to make ready for starting. He did not see me, for
I was in darkness, while he worked by lantern-light. So
I watched him for a full minute, while he prepared this
death-trap for the rest of us. No wonder he has soug-ht
the most distant and safest part of the ship ever since.
"Moreover, it is this man who, on two previous oc-
casions, has attempted to cripple our machinery. He is
employed by the old company to injure and delay this
expedition by every possible means. From the evidence
before us it looks as though he would not hesitate to
commit murder to accomplish his designs. Now, gentle-
men, what in your opinion ought to be done with such a
bit of scum?"
"Shoot him! Throw him overboard!" suggested two
of the little group in a breath, while Serge said nothing.
but tightened his clutch of the prisoner's collar omi-
nously.
"Turn him over to the Captain," said the engineer.
" He'll settle the case in a hurry."
"That is what I started to do, and what I am afraid
of," replied Phil. "The Captain has sworn to shoot on
sight the first man he catches tampering with the ma-
chinery of this boat, and I don't believe he'd hesitate a
moment before doing it either. At the same time, gen-
tlemen, we don't want to have any bloodshed on the
( 'liiiuo if we can help it. It would not only give her a
bud name and injure our prospects on the river, but
would furnish us with a cause of regret for the rest of
our lives. So I thought I would ask your opinion before
reporting this affair to the Captain.
"My plan would be to get under way as quietly as
possible, which the Captain ordered me to do any way if
we were afloat at daylight, and run over to the Pastolik
wood-yard. There we'll give the scoundrel a chance to
slip ashore and hide himself. He'll be picked up fast
MARCH 12, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
327
enough by the natives who own the yard. We won't
make any stop there, but will run on up our staked chan-
nel, and be out of sight before anything is said to the
Captain. Thus we shall get rid of our murderer with-
out having his blood on our hands, and at the same time
leave him where there won't be the slightest chance of
his troubling us any more. In fact, I'm inclined to
think that if he once gets safely out of this boat, he'll be
wise enough never to come near her again. I shall be
sorry for him if he does, that's all."
After some discussion, during which the wretched
prisoner watched the faces of his judges with painful
eagerness, this plan was accepted. Under strictest super-
vision of the engineer, Strengel was made to repair his
own mischief. Then with Serge to keep careful watch
of affairs on the lower deck, and with Phil at the wheel,
the Chimo steamed away from the place of her long de-
tention.
As the steamer rubbed against the bank near Pastolik,
Strengel made a leap, his bag was flung after him, aud
without having come to a full stop the Chimo moved
on, Phil ringing the jingle-bell for full speed the mo-
ment it was safe to do so.
As soon as the steamer again readied the staked
channel, Phil resigned the wheel to Serge, and calling
on the two millwrights to aid him, removed the stricken
Captain to the lower deck. There a bed had been pre-
pared for him in a warm corner, near the boiler, which
was carefully curtained by tarpaulins against any draught
of cold air. Although the young mate had but slight
knowledge of sickness, and was still uncertain as to the
nature of Gerald Hamer's illness, he knew that warmth
would do his patient no harm, and that in a case of
measles it was necessary to a successful treatment of the
disease.
CHAPTER IV.
PHIL ASSUMES COMMAND AND ASSERTS HIS AUTHORITY.
THERE was much alarm among the scanty crew of the
Chimo when the pitiable state of their leader was dis-
covered, and the engineer was especially loud in his pro-
tests against attempting to continue the voyage under
sucli discouraging conditions. He declared that none
but madmen would think of doing such a thing, and that
unless they immediately returned to St. Michaels they
would all perish in that wilderness of icy water and
frozen mud. At first the millwrights, who had hereto-
fore had no experience in rough travel, were inclined to
agree with him; but Phil stated his view of the situation
so clearly, and was so sturdily supported by Serge, that
they were finally won over to his way of thinking. So
the discontented engineer was forced to yield to the
wishes of the majority.
Five miles from Pastolik they stopped at the Eskimo
village of Coatlik for a supply of wood, and here Serge,
with his ability to speak Russian, proved invaluable.
Not only did he conduct the wood negotiations, but h<>
succeeded in purchasing a number of freshly killed wild-
geese, which were at that time flying southward in vast
flocks. Above all, he secured a native pilot, who promised
to go with them until they met running ice.
Nor did the services of the young Russo-American
diminish one whit in value after Coatlik was left behind.
He alone knew how to prepare the broths which formed
the sole nourishment that the sick man was able to take.
He only could converse with the native pilot, and learn
from him the mysteries of the mighty river. He it was
who was always cheerful, and could swing the lustiest
axe. when, as often happened, they were obliged to renew
their supply of fuel from chance drift piles; and it was
he who must attend the sick man at night, because the
faintest murmur served to wake him. So Serge was the
very life of that dreary voyage, and but for him Phil
knew it must have been abandoned long before they
reached the haven for which they were steering.
And it was a dreary voyage. Day after day witnessed
the same monotony of turbid waters, so widespread that
one bank was often invisible from the other, and a dead-
ly level of drowned lands bounded only by the low, far-
away horizon. Day after day brought the same gray
skies, chill winds, rain squalls, and flurries of snow. Ev-
ery night saw heavy frosts, and it grew hourly more ap-
parent that the stern reign of winter was close at hand.
At long intervals lonely groups of sod-covered huts
gave sign that human beings dwelt even in those unlove-
ly wastes; but save for fuel, the young commander of
the Chimo would not pause to make their acquaintance.
From earliest dawn until dusk he forced the little craft
at full speed against the swift current, often grounding
on sand-bars in spite of the native pilot, whose only
knowledge was of the best channel but not of its obstruc-
tions.
After two days they began to see low hills on the
north, and on this side the river-bank became noticeably
higher. Although this was encouraging, it produced
but slight impression on the spirits of the depressed crew,
whose situation was indeed becoming alarming. They
were worn out with anxiety, overwork, and insufficient
food, for they had neither the time nor inclination to do
any cooking except for the sick. The Captain lay in a
state of semi-stupor, and another cot within the same
enclosure held one of the millwrights, who had been
stricken with the dread disease twenty-four hours later.
By the end of the first week in October they were some
two hundred miles from the mouth of the river, with
nearly one hundred yet to go before they could reach
Anvik, to gain which Phil was directing all his energies.
He knew not what they would find there; but he had an
intuition that help of some kind awaited them at that
point. At any rate he was determined to reach it some-
how.
On the 7th of October ice began to run in the river,
and with its first appearance the native pilot insisted
upon starting back toward his now distant home. That
night, amid the bowlings of a tempest that threatened to
tear the Chimo from her anchorage, the stricken mill-
wright died.
When Phil went to the engineer's room to report this
distressing news he was filled with wrath to find that in-
dividual lying in his bunk and indulging to excess in the
contents of a case of brandied peaches that he had stolen
from the cargo. Without a word, Phil picked up the case
and flung it into the river. "I'll see you again in the
morning, sir, when you are sober," he said as he left the
room, and locking- the door put the key in his own pocket.
That night of storm, death, and despair was one that
neither Phil nor Serge will ever forget. For long hours
they sat by the bedside of the Captain, whom they believed
to be sleeping1, discussing in low tones their melancholy
situation. Suddenly they were startled by a voice from
the sick man. who said feebly,
" Get me to Anvik, boys, if you can, aud you will save
my life."
It was the first time he had spoken rationally for sev-
eral days, and they had no idea that he was even conscious
of their presence; but Phil answered, promptly, "All
right. Captain, we'll get you there, never fear."
''Yes," added Serge, cheerily, "you may rest easy, sir,
for when Phil uses that tone he means just what he sa\ s,
and I know that I've got to back him up."
Neither of the lads got more than an hour's sleep that
night, and long before daylight they were again at work.
Phil and the surviving millwright were getlinu up steam,
while' Serge was taking unusual pains in preparing
breakfast, for they all realized that they must now lay in
an extra supply of strength.
328
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI-
Not until breakfast was ready was Mr. Sims released
from the confinement of his room. After eating his meal
in sullen silence, he said to Phil, "Well, young man,
what do you propose to do to-day?"
" I propose to push on up the river as usual."
"And who are you going to get to run your engine?"
"I expect you to do it, sir."
"Well, you are expecting a good deal more than you'll
get," cried the man, rising from the table in his excite-
ment. "I've been bullied by a parcel of boys just as
long as I intend to be. So now I want you to under-
stand that I'll not allow the engine of this beat to make
another turn except to run her into winter quarters, and
that's got to be done in a hurry, too."
" That's exactly what I mean to do with her," replied
Phil, quietly.
"Where?"
" At Anvik, less than one hundred miles from here."
" Hundred nothing- ["screamed the man. " You'll put
her in winter quarters within ten miles of this very spot
or not at all ; for you can't run the engine, and you
haven't got a man aboard, except me, who can, and you
know it."
The furious man had stepped toward Phil, and -was
shaking a trembling fist in the lad's face as he shouted
these last words. Serge stood close behind him.
Just then the young mate nodded his head, both lads
sprang upon the man at once, and in spite of his fierce
struggles bore him to the deck. In another moment he
was securely and helplessly bound.
"How do we generally dispose of mutineers aboard
this ship?" asked Phil, as he regained his feet.
"Set 'em ashore, sir, and leave 'em to shift for them-
selves," answered Serge, grimly.
"Very well; and as we haven't any time to lose, you
may get the dingy overboard at once. Call Isaac to
"HERE IS THE MAN WHO DID THAT THING."
help you, and tell him the reason for this extra
work."
" You don't dare do it," muttered the prostrate man,
as Serge started to obey this order.
" Don't I?" queried Phil. " If you think so you must
be ignorant of what constitutes a mutiny, as well as of
the powers vested in the Captain of a ship."
" But you aren't the Captain of this ship."
" Perhaps I'm not. At the same time I am acting as
Captain by authority of the owner, and I am performing
all of a Captain's duties; all of them, you understand."
By this time the small boat was alongside, and leaving
the bewildered millwright in her, Serge regained the deck,
where he awaited further instructions.
"Select such of your belongings as you wish to take
with you, and they shall be put into the boat," said Phil.
" Oh, rats!" cried the man, angrily.
" Take hold of him!" ordered the mate.
Serge obeyed, and in another minute the mutinous
engineer found himself in the small boat, which was
actually being shoved off.
" Shall I hunt a native village to leave him at?" asked
Serge.
"No. We haven't time for that. Land him wherever
it happens."
" Look here, boys!" said the man, humbly, as he cast a
shuddering glance over the icy waters and at the bleak
desolation of the shore beyond. "I weaken. Take me
back, and I'll go to work."
"Will you run the engine as far as Anvik?"
" I'll run her till .you give the word to stop."
"And promise on your honor not to touch another
drop of liquor before this steamer is laid up in winter
quarters?"
"Yes."
Late that afternoon a new bewilderment confronted
the anxious lads. They
were involved in a laby-
rinth of channels, all of
about the same width,
and apparently pouring
forth equal volumes of
water. But while they
all looked equally invit-
ing, only one was that of
the main river; the oth-
ers were mouths of the
great Shagelook slough,
which would lead them
into an unknown wil-
derness. One meant
safety and the others dis-
aster. But which was
which?
In this dilemma Phil
decided to anchor and
wait for another daylight.
While they thus waited
— wearied, anxious, and
•welliiigh despairing —
there came a shout out
of the darkness that thrill-
ed them with a new life,
for the words were in
their own tongue.
' ' Steamer ahoy ! ahoy !
Hello onboard the steam-
er!" rang cheerily from
off the dark waters.
"Hello! Hello! Come
this way!" answered Phil
from the pilot-house.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE LONG AND SHORT OF THEM.
OFF FOR A LONG JAUNT.
METHODS OF GOING DOWN AND UP HILL.
WHAT SOMETIMES HAPPENS.
WITH THE SKI = RUNNERS.
BY W. S. H A R W O O D.
WE should have to look backward a long distance to
find the place in history when skis were first intro-
duced as a means of locomotion, and when we reached
that point I should not be surprised if we should find
that skis were used long before history began to be made.
It is a sport of Norselandic descent, however, that much
we know, and has been for many centuries one of the
most popular pastimes of Norway and Sweden, as well as
being a very important means of locomotion.
During these snowy months the boys who_ live in the
cold northwest are enjoying the sport of ski-running to
the utmost. During the winter of 1894 and 1895 it has
been more popular than ever before among the boys.
One of the delightful things about the sport is that it may
be enjoyed by boys, and girls, too, for that matter, as well
as by grown-up men and women, and I sometimes think
the younger ones get more real fun out of it than their
elders. While there is much sport in the long jaunt
over the hills and across the fields on the long slender
skis, there is even more fun in the rapid descent of the
high hills down which the boys go nt a tremendous rate
of speed. The hill running has also the spice of danger
which every boy enjoys, though it is, where due caution
is taken, nothing but a spice.
Sometimes the boys imitate the regular sport of the
older ones, and build midway in the hill an embankment
from which they jump in their flight down the hill, but
this, as a rule, approaches pretty close to a danger line
which ought not to be drawn in any sport for boys. A
low "precipe1' as it is called may be made near the
bottom of a long hill, where there is an abundance of
soft snow in which to fall, but to build a precipe in the
middle distance of a steep hill is to invite broken legs.
The skis are narrow, thin, long strips of wood about
four or five inches in width, perhaps a half-inch in thick-
ness, and say four to six feet long, according to the size
of the boy. A single piece of leather just large enon^li
to come over the foot at the instep is the only fastening-.
It would be disastrous, and even dangerous, to tie or
strap the skis onto the foot, for no matter how skilful a
boy may be, he is bound to get many a throw, and if the
skis were fastened onto his feet, he would be very likely
330
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
to get seriously injured. Some of the skis the boys use
are home-made affairs, and these can be made to do ex-
cellent service, but the better way, if it can be afforded,
is to buy them of some sporting- goods dealer, of whom
they can be purchased at a very reasonable price.
Many a time along- near twelve o'clock noon, in these
sharp, snowy days I go to my window looking out upon
a steep little hill and a long, snow -carpeted park, and
watch the boys as they come speeding down the hill on
their way home from school. It would make your blood
tingle if you were among them, for there is something in
this splendid winter air which stirs the heart to quicker-
action, and something in the sport of ski-running which
is a continual fascination from the time it begins along
in early November, until tbe last run is made along in
the early days of April, or perhaps at the close of March.
I can see them come down the hill at a rate that would
take the breath away from a boy who had never tried it,
dodging in and out among the oak-trees, some of them
tumbling in an apparently inextricable mass in the deep
snow, laughing and crying out with glee, their cheeks
red as the blood in their bounding veins, a merry crowd,
enjoying one of the most interesting sports of a part of
the country splendidly stocked with out-door opportuni-
ties for fun. Sometimes they will congregate at the
edge of the park after a spirited run down the hill, and
away they will go across the park in a quite soldierly pla-
toon; sometimes they will take long trips in a body of
ten or twelve in the country round about; sometimes
they will go back to the hill as the most interesting place,
but wherever they go they are adding new strength to
their limbs and fresher blood to their veins by this health-
ful and exhilarating sport.
SEA-GULL DICK, OF BKENTONS EEEF.
" "V7OU need riot tell me. that sea-gulls have no sense," said
JL an old Rhode Island salt to half a dozen boys who were
out flshiug with him near Newport one day last summer. '-I
know of one sea-gull, because I've seen him for years who has
as much good sound common-sense as aii3T dog or hoi-se or other
animal that you cau name. That's Sea-gull Dick, the Brentons
Reef Light-ship bird. He first appeared at the light-ship twenty-
three years ago, and each winter since then he has made his
home there. He comes regularly every October and leaves
early in March. There's no romance about what I'm telling you
here ; it's all absolutely true.
"He came aloug one day apparently nearly starved, and flew
about the ship until he attracted attention. The cook brought
out a plate of food and set it on the rail. The gull alighted and
ate ravenously, and every winter since he has enjoyed the hos-
pitality of the ship. Before he became tame several attempts
were made to catch him, but none succeeded, and now the sailors
would not think of permitting anyone to snare Dick. The gull
remains most of the time aboard the ship, and the men have ar-
ranged every comfort for him, including perches on the masts
and along the rails. He takes frequent short flights, never go-
ing out of sight of the ship, and swims around in the water for
hours. But no matter when- he- may lie, instinct always tells
him when it is meal-time, and he regularly responds with the
men to the cook's call, taking his full three meals a day.
"The cook, of course, is Dick's favorite, since he feeds him,
and the bird will answer ti> a call from the cook just as a dog
will come to his master. Three years aiv> the cook fell ill and
had I" IMI ashore for a week for medical treatment. The substi-
tute cook did not pay much attention to Dick, and so the gull
did not get. liis meals very regularly. At length the. cook recov-
ered and made his way off t<> t he ship. Dick saw the small boat
coming when it was still at a yivat. distance from the li^ht-ship,
and evidently recognized his friend. He uttered a series of lond
screeches that brought all hands on deck, and then he flew out
to the approaching boat and accompanied -it all the way, still
continuing his screeches of delight. If you do not believe this
tale of the intelligent, gull, ji" out to the light-ship on Brentons
Reef some time after November and you can see Dick for your-
selves."
GRANDMA-LAND.
rilHERE'S a wonderful country far away,
-L And its name is Grandma-Laud ;
'Tis a beautiful, glorious, witching place
With grandmas on every hand.
Everywhere you may look or go,
Everywhere that the breezes blow,
Just grandmammas! Just grandmammas!
In this wonderful country far away
Where grandmammas abide,
In this beautiful, witching Grandma-Land
The Good Things wait on every side —
Jam and jelly-cake heaped in piles;
Tarts and candy 'round for miles:
Just Good Things here! Just Good Things there!
In this wonderful country far, afar,
Where blow the candy breezes,
In this beautiful, glorious pudding-land
Each child does just as he pleases.
All through the night, all through (he day,
Every single child has his way.
Each his own way ! Just as he pleases !
In this wonderful country far away —
lu this gorgeous grandma clime —
When tired children cau eat no more.
There are stories of "Once on a Time."
Stories are told and songs are sung,
Of when the grandmammas were young. —
" Once on a Time!" " Well, Let me see!"
To this wonderful country far, afar,
Where only Good Things stay,
To this beautiful, glorious Grandma-Laud
Good children only find the way.
But wheii they sleep and when they dream
Away they float on the gliding stream
To Grandma-Laud! To Grandma-Land!
HAYDEN CARRUTH.
HOW TO GET ON IN LIFE.
THE GIRL WHO COMES TO THE CITY
TO STUDY ART.
BY CLARA B. CAHILL.
A GIRL who has made up her mind to go to New
York to study art is not to be deterred by the usual
difficulties which confront a new experience, and yet it
takes a girl of considerable determination and spirit to
enter a city which is perhaps unknown to her, and to de-
cide for herself as to the best way of living and studying
while there. Sometimes a girl thinks if she could only
talk to some other girl who had been through this much-
desired experience, what a help it would be! She could
then decide on some definite plans for herself. So if I
think back on what I had to do, and what I did, and
others did, some other girl may find it a simpler matter
to carry out her plans.
The greater art schools of New York do not advertise
much, except through the work of their pupils, so it is no
easy matter to find out about them except by knowing
their addresses and sending for circulars. The janitor
of the new art building on West Fifty-seventh Street,
where are gathered many of the best schools, will send
you circulars of all of these. Then there is the Metro-
politan School of Art, in Central Park, which is even
nearer the art galleries. Be sure, when you have de-
cided on your school, that you know the requirements
for admission, and apply several months before the school
opens, because the schools are quite apt to be overcrowded
by applicants.
MARCH 12, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
331
I had studied before, in Cincinnati, and so the Art
Students' League, now at 215 West Fifty-seventh Street,
was naturally the Mecca of my dreams, as it is that of all
students of lesser schools. Just to read over the great
names on the circulars used to send thrills all over me,
and make my heart beat faster, and this feeling never
lessens as you come in contact with the school. A kind
of glorious despair settles down on you as you think
what they have done and you have not. A circular
seen years after brings that same sort of ache.
A school in New York is much better than a school in
Pans, because the men in America respect the freedom
of women so much more. When I was in Paris I made
careful inquiries of the students, both men and women,
and they contended that Paris was not as good as New
York for young women to study in, except for the art
galleries; the instruction was no better, and there was so
much to contend with.
I arrived in New York on the anniversary of the day
that Columbus discovered America, and as I stepped
proudly down off the Pullman car I am sure I thought of
him with most sympathetic emotion. It occurred to me
to be mildly surprised that the cabmen did not throw up
their arms, and shout wildly, " We are discovered !" as the
early Americans did in the time-honored joke of the play.
Instead, however, they seemed to take the initiative and
discover me. As there was no one to meet me, and the
town was all quite new to me, I allowed myself to be
hurried into a hansom, and we drove away.
We began to go slowly in front of some houses near
Madison Square, and I noticed the steps of one of them
were being washed by an individual in evening dress.
We stopped in front of this, and then I noticed that his
countenance was pale and careworn, and his shirt front
adorned rather by gravy than by diamonds. It was in
this house, as much like the other houses in the block as
one chocolate cream is like the other chocolates in a bag,
that I had come to stay ; for it seemed that I was expected :
the man had my bag, and I was soon climbing stairs and
stairs (after all, that is only two flights !), and soon stopped
before the third-floor front.
And now let me warn all my friends against the ordi-
nary, dismal, hall bedroom. Though I stepped as hea-
vily on my heels as possible, in order to simulate a
bold tread, though I held my head high and remembered
the advantages I had come to enjoy, still that hall bed-
room struck terror to my soul.
It was very small, and filled with very large furniture.
The head-board of the bed and the carved frame of the
tall mirror seemed to vie with each other in black- walnut
hideousness. The wardrobe suggested itself as a suitable
place for incarcerating frivolous gowns, with a view to
their ultimate conversion into sackcloth and ashes.
The dado round the room seemed, from my slight
knowledge of the subject, to be one kind of bacteria, the
genus tuberculosis, gambling with another kind of bac-
teria, whose form I had seen in text-books, but whose
name I could not remember. Altogether, I never grew
fond of this room, though for its gloomy shelter and board
downstairs I paid ten dollars weekly. Any art student
who does that in New York is considered purseproud.
Any more than that is considered positively vulgar. " The
idea of pay ing that much for hash !" is the scorn ful thought,
spoken, or unexpressed, that flits through every rational
student's mind on hearing of your extravagance.
As a matter of fact, one can get very good board and
lodging, though not usually without a roommate, or per-
haps two, for flve dollars a week at what are almost
exclusively students' boarding - places near the school.
These can be found out about by writing to the curator
of the school you decide to adopt for particulars. Any
lodging or boarding house so recommended would be at
least a suitable place to stay while looking about in the
city for permanent arrangements. The fact that the
house is full of students will be an advantage in giving
you companions and acquaintances from whom to choose
friends. Those at the school are rather long in making
of the right kind, for every one is so busy. It is an
oligarchy governed by an aristocracy of talent. Rags
do not count for anything, even the other evidences of
poverty, if one has talent; and if you have not talent in
some degree you have to be very agreeable indeed to have
that forgiven you if you still persist in studying. There
seem to be no petty jealousies in the larger schools; each
is proud that one of their number has so much ability.
I well remember my first day in the Art Students'
League. It was when the students were in their old
quarters on Twenty-third Street, over a livery-stable, and
quite as dirty and picturesque as the traditional garret,
that I first climbed those stairs. I began to get comfort-
able as soon as I was consigned to Thomas. I do not
know if he is there now, but he used to be; a something
more than janitor, one might almost say proprietor of
the League, and as much a part of the institution as the
casts upon the walls or the brown sacking partitions. He
had such a cheering, delightful way with him ; he seemed
to believe in you, and know why you had come.
I had sent in drawings that sent me into the Antique
Class, and there Thomas gave me an easel and chair,
and I arranged my paper on the back of my portfolio.
I had bought what things I needed in the little shop
connected with the school, and began to draw. As I
was a new pupil, I noticed the other students stealthily
observing my movements. As I had done very little cast
drawing, and that by what is known as the Munich
method of putting in all details, I was at a loss to know
how to make drawings like those all about me. I finally
concluded I would just draw the best I could — have an
outline there, anyway. I was interested in the head of
Cicero hanging on the wall, and began that. After I
had gotten the outline, I felt obliged to put in some
shading. I tried to make niy drawing like the others,
but failed. One or two people stopped and looked over
my shoulder as who should say, "What is she trying to
get at?" But I went on undaunted.
The next day I heard a perfectly clear decisive voice
behind the next partition, where before had been only
subdued murmurs. "Miss Jones," it was saying, "your
nose is all wrong, too long, and not well put on; your
mouth is too large; your ears are all out of drawing.
In fact, I think that you had better try to have a new
head for me by Friday morning-.'.' This was the way
I knew that Mr. Beckwith had arrived. The instructors
came Tuesdays and Fridays.
It seemed terribly personal what he was saying, and I
shudderingly awaited his arrival. When he came to me
I rose precipitately, knocking over all the boxes of char-
coal that were within range, and stood behind my chair,
while he sat down. After a while I gathered my voice
together and told him of my disadvantage. Perhaps the
pathos in. my tones induced him to be kind and to give
me a little lecture, the gist of which was to work as it
was natural for you to work.
This theory having led me into much trouble, I advise
every beginner to have nothing to do with it, unless she
has a manner of working which is uniformly better than
that academic style which she encounters in the school.
One of the finest things about a really good school in
New York is that it brings you in contact with people
of positive talent and even genius, and you see
work, and it encourages you, and helps you, and you
would not give up this privilege for any other.
After several months I went to live with three other
girls in a small flat in an apartment-house on Twenty-
third Street, between Third and Fourth avenues. It real-
ly was a most disreputable neighborhood, speaking of it
332
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
generally, and yet there was a quiet place here for this
one block.
We were opposite a church, and the block was
full of old houses with a subdued Sunday look on
their faces, though all about us on the nearest avenues
the heathen, we well knew, were raging. In the morn-
ing one of us used to get breakfast — we took our lunch-
eons with us — another would get dinner, and the other
two would wash and wipe the dishes. In this flat, which
was only twenty dollars a month, we had a small kitch-
en and four other rooms, which we divided into two bed-
rooms, a dining-room, and a living-room, which was most-
ly studio. Here we could take our picturesque beggars to
pose without fear of a justly incensed landlady ; here we
could pose for each other when we felt amiable, and in
even the gayest hall bedroom there is, of course, a com-
plete lack of perspective.
I will tell you how we furnished our flat. We painted
all the floors dark red, and put rugs down. We were
specialists in rugs. We could get beauties for a few dol-
lars apiece — Japanese, goat-skins, and other kinds made
of a solid colored carpeting, fringed at the ends.
Divans were also our
forte. You might be
surprised to see so many
divans in a house, until
you poked around and
discovered that they all
had sterner duties in
life. Each bedroom
had a corner divan like
an irregular letter V.
These were cot - beds,
in disguise for the day-
time with various Ori-
ental covers, placed
with their feet together
and their heads wide
apart to outline the
wall. Other window
seats and divans were
found to be made of
large wooden shoe
boxes, which had hinges
put on their covers,
and army, or camel,
blankets thrown over
them. Here we kept
our best clothes, so we
used to try to get dress-
ed before any company
came and sat on them.
Each girl bought the chair she liked best, considering
the state of her pocket-money, and the rest of the chairs
•were camp-stools, with backs and without. We were al-
ways picking up bargains in bookshelves, books, and little
unframed etchings, which soon, with our sketches and
plaster casts hanging against the wall, gave a most satis-
fying and homelike look to the room.
And yet we were living in one of the cheapest flats, in
a neighborhood whose chief virtue was its nearness to
the school, and were spending as little money as pos-
sible outside of the expenses of the school. There were
beautiful flats to be gotten for various not very extrava-
gant sums a month in various quarters of the town, and
by keeping track of the advertisements in the Sunday
papers we afterwards found one where we had a much
better studio. But one can live anywhere when one has
companions who are willing to make the best of things
for the sake of the end.
We used to see what we saw of the theatre or the opera
at matinees usually, sometimes in the topmost galleries.
If we felt rich, in good seats. We never were deterred
A SKETCHING CLASS IN A NEW YORK ART SCHOOL.
from going by the expense. We simply took a seat fur-
ther and further back.
At one time I remember we were somewhat in perplex-
ity because one of the plays that we wished to see most
was put on only in the evening. There are for those
girls who have plenty of pocket-money, and no older
friend to escort them, chaperons to rent. Their signs
are posted up in the various schools, and they are all
very highly recommended.
Two or three times a year whole colonies of artists will
throw open their studios simultaneously for a reception,
so that you can go about, and not only see the work-
shops of these great persons, but stand shyly by while
they are talking to other great persons; and see their pic-
tures and busts, and their wives and children, or, perhaps,
their favorite model quite in their proper element. You
get very tired doing this, climbing up stairs and more
stairs, for there is seldom an elevator, and the studios are
all under the skylights. But you would not give up this
privilege either.
Up and down Fifth Avenue and Broadway there are
generally to be seen at least one exhibition of good pic-
tures, especially in the
spring, and yam- stu-
dent's ticket usually
admits you to these.
The question of em-
ployment, or of making
money while you are
studying in New York
in any way, has been
solved by a few of the
students. Some of
them make a little out-
side money by decora-
tive work for the ex-
changes. Some, famil-
iar with wood -carving,
have work always on
hand for the furniture-
houses. There are
places where the stu-
dent in modelling may
make money by mod-
elling in staff the friezes
and designs for great
buildings. But if they
should do this, they
must give up their en-
tire days to it, until they
have finished what they
have begun. Many stu-
dents do the very clever advertisements that are in such
demand at present, and occasionally the prices paid for
these are very high.
Sometimes a girl makes some money at holiday-time
by illustrating with pen and ink or water-color sketches
some wide-margined book; these sell readily for gifts at
Christmas-time.
If you are so inclined, in New York, you could make
your expenses outside of tuition come quite comfortably
into thirty dollars a month, if you do not room alone.
Some of the largest art schools, as the Academy,
"Cooper's," and the Metropolitan, are practically free,
charging only a nominal sum for admission. If you
should be in two classes at the Art Students' League, you
can perceive, by comparing their circular with the others,
that it would involve probably one hundred dollars more
for tuition.
If you have the will to learn you can gain a great deal
in almost any recognized art school in New York, :md
you will find the same instructors in many of the classes
of the different schools.
JULE'S GARDEN.
BY HARRIET PRE SCOTT SI'OFFORD.
0'
there he is! Look — across the river! He's go-
ing- to take the barn! It's the minister with his
camera. Oh! And with so many places, to take that,
the ugliest spot on the whole point!" And she began to
twist her curls, a sure sign of distress with little Jule.
"It's the gobbler he's taking," said Jack.
" But it brings ill the bam and the hen-yard all the
same."
"All the same, Sis, you feel the disgrace of handing
that hen-yard down to posterity," said Mr. Jack, pulling
in his line, with nothing on it. There never was any-
thing on it.
"Oh, Jack," cried Jule, "you might make that place
decent."
"I might go up in a balloon," said Jack, jerking his
sinker. The sun shone, the wind was sweet with the
smell of new furrows and leafy things; softly the sound
of a hurdy-gurdy came from the distance; and Jack was
too comfortable to bother himself about hens and hen-
yards.
She had thought so often, when her father or Tom
rowed her on the river, it was such a pity that spot
should be given up to hens. She had an instinctive dis-
like of hens; she felt there must be an untouchable
roughness about their feathers, the thought of which set
her teeth on edge; and, moreover, she was mortally
afraid of them ; an old mother-hen had flown in her
face once on some provocation, and had finished for Jule
the whole hen family. How lovely that bank would be
with terraces and rock-work and geraniums and beds of
poppies! She had said so to Tom, but he had pooh-
poohed; and her mother thought it would be too much
trouble; and her father said the men were busy. One
clay indeed, a year ago, she had opened the gate in the
lath fence, and had flirted her handkerchief and shooed,
her heart beating furiously, and had reached in with her
trowel, digging a hole into which she hud dropped a
root of violets, pressed it down, poured some water over
it, shooing all the time, and had shut the gale and run.
The hens ran too; and in live minutes there wasn't a
shred of that violet left.
However, there were more things in life than gardens.
There were her lessons to be learned, and the socks to be
knit, and the loaf of bread to be taken to Mrs. Nourse's,
where Danny was bemoaning the hard fate that had
taken off his left hand, and would oblige him to wear a
hook, when so little money would buy him an artificial
hand, he who must earn his own living by the work of
his hands. " Father hasn't any money, or he would give
it to Danny. And there isn't any way in which I can
earn a nickel. It is dreadful to be useless," sighetl Jule.
Poor Danny really needed his hand, for his head was
of little use to him. Jule had happened to be at his
grandmother's when the operation was taking place, and
there being no one else to do it, had held his other hand
while he took the ether; and she felt afterwards a great
interest in his recovery, and was almost unhappy to
think that, do what she would, she could not raise money
for an artificial hand to help him to a livelihood.
"Well," thought Jule, as she left Jack on his rock,
" if I can't get any one to see to that place, I can't." But
she paused at the hen-yard, and looked wistfully through
the fence— there was not a hen in the place! They had
all gone up their slatted walk into the upper yard, where
Tom was scattering corn. What an inspiration came to
Jule that minute, what courage! Her heart beat in her
throat, but she opened the little lath gate, stepped across,
ran like the wind across the hen-yard and up the rocks,
334
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
and drew a loose board over the little door made for the
hens. "Now you're there, you stay there," she said, for
the large upper run was really quite enough for them.
A young- rooster crowed insultingly at that, and another
took up the tale, and Jule scampered as if a whole flight
of cockerels were after her.
But presently, summoning up courage, she took a sur-
vey of the premises— a dingle between two bluffs sloping
from the river to the barn at a height above; at the base
of the barn a stone pig-pen, whose wall was six feet high.
The barnyard heap was no longer thrown down there,
but a bulkhead had once been built below to keep the
compost from washing into the river. "Woodbine — and
there's plenty in the woods — could grow over the back of
that barn," thought Jule, " and the Boston ivy, if I could
get some, would cover the pig -pen like a mat. Oh,
wouldn't it be lovely!" And then she looked in despair
at the earth the hens had scratched bare, the heaps of
stones, the impossible confusion of boards and cans and
bottles. " I'll try," she exclaimed, presently.
" Oh, Danny, would you mind coming' out to the Falls
woods?" she asked, a little later.
" Dade, thin. I wud." said Danny, "an' be glad in me
sowl, sol wud." And they came home in an hour with
baskets of wild woodbine roots and sweet-briers; and
Danny's one hand and Jule's two disposed them at the
barn corners, and by the big bowlders at the dingle-side.
"Now," said Jule, having watered them thoroughly,
"the ladies in the brick house downtown may give us
some slips of their Boston ivy, and they'll make a beau-
tiful green wall of the pig -pen. In time, you know,
Danny."
Then Jule went in and knit at her sock. "Mother
dear," said she, "can't I have the bulbs the dahlias in
the front yard made last year?"
" The bulbs?" said her mother, pinching her pastry.
"What for?"
"Oh, I know!" said Jule.
" Mis' Nourse won't care about a garden. But you can
have 'em, I guess."
And the next day the Boston ivy and the dahlias were
in place, and Jule and Danny had fastened the board
against the hens, and had nailed pickets at the top of the
fence there, two of the Virginia - creepers being set to
climb over the fence eventually and hide it altogether.
" Oh," cried Jule, "I am going to make the wilderness
blossom like a rose!" And then the two little people
began to toil over the road from the ploughed fields with
baskets of earth that they tumbled into the crannies and
along the slope. And they laboriously brought up stones
from the shore day after day, and slowly made a rude
wall below the pig-pen, filling it with earth.
"They do be sayin'," remarked Danny, " that the min
out there to Washington, or whereiver, has the givin' o'
flower-sades be the peck, good looclc till 'em, an' ye can
have thim for the askin'. Sorra a bit me knows."
That night Jule found who was her member of Con-
gress,-and the reply to her modest request came, to the
wonderment of the family, as a package addressed to
Miss Julia Spencer, and containing, she fancied, the seeds
of half the flowers that blow. "Oil. here are larkspurs!"
she cried. "You know how tall and blue they are. And
slocks, and phlox, and feverfew, and marigolds, and can-
dytuft, oh, and nasturtiums! Sweet alyssum, too, and
balsam, and salvia, and cosmos, and morning-glories, oh,
and hollyhocks! How perfectly delightful!"
" That's what your country does for you," said Jack.
"It's a dear country!" cried Jule. And the frost be-
ing gone, it took only a day to sow the terrace-bed in
plots. Then they picked up and raked and spaded in
comfort on the incline towards the bulkhead. "The
great beds of poppies there will be so splendid from the
river!" cried Jule.
"The tides '11 be drowndin' thim out intirely, so they
will, lUiss Jule," said Danny.
"But it won't hurt them."
"They'll be afther fiowerin' in the islands of the dape
say."
" I'll risk it," said Jule. " I'll drop the seeds."
" An' the next high tide '11 be doin' the rest," .said Dan-
ny. And it did.
Then they sowed nasturtiums by the fence where she
used to have the horrible vision of the hens. "You hold
the string for their climbing, Danny, till I tie it. I'll put
in the stick. Now another. I tell you, it tires your hack!
But when it's a gold and scarlet curtain here, won't it be
glorious? Oh! can't you see it, splendid with dew, and
the sun shining on it:'''
After this there were morning-glories sowed on the
other upper side, till the woodbine should be grown next
year. And what joy it was to watch those woodbines for
their first pout ! Jule gave them water morning and
night. "Oh, they're alive!" she shouted; and she sat
down before the first buds and warbled little songs of
joy.
Jule l">d some geraniums of her own in the kitchen.
She had early cut off slips; and now she set them in the
crannies of that ugly eastern corner. And the moment
school was out, and she had done all her mother wished,
she was down in her retreat, watering and pottering and
learning the ways of nature out of nature's book.
The loss of the poppies was sad. There had to be
another wall to hold a terrace beyond the tide. With the
only silver piece she had, she hired old Jerry to dig a
trench; and when he saw her lugging up the stones, he
worked overtime every day to help her. And although
it took them the rest of the summer, they laid and plas-
tered that wall, but it was not till the fall ploughing that
they could (ill it with earth. And if Jule knit Jerry all
the socks lie wore that winter, it was not in the way of
payment, but because she loved to do it.
But it had been fatiguing to fetch the water from the
river in the evenings after the hot days. And nobody in
the house took much interest. Her father had consented
to the banishment of the hens; but her mother said it was
a waste; and it seemed as if every one had something for
her to do when her flowers needed her, for the leak-age
from barn and pig-pen made the soil so rich that the
weeds grew faster than the flowers. Danny was picking
potato-bugs in the field when Jule was taken with a cold ;
and when she was about again and went down, the garden
was a wilderness of white-weed and wild carrot. "I
must have some flowering bushes that the weeds can't
hurt," said Jule, as she took up her geraniums, by-and-by,
and gathered her seeds, still rejoicing in her zinnias and
cosmos. She had quantities of seed; the family could
not imagine what she was doing- when they saw her
putting them into papers, but supposed it was all in the
way of her foolishness about the garden. They did not
know that the store-keeper had got her some bulbs, which
she had put in the ground in September to get early
growth, and was going to take his pay in flower-seeds, or
they might have objected to such independent proceed-
ings on her part.
But when the next spring opened, the snow was not
gone before the little gardener was down in her preserve,
pulling off old stalks and preparing for the new cam-
paign. Then Danny and she went off to a pasture where
once a house had stood with damask-roses in its yard;
and they came back with lilac-rods that went into the
ground up behind the geraniums, and with no end of the
roses. And no young princess ever took more enjoyment
in the glint of her rubies than Jule did when those rose-
stems strung themselves with tiny redjeaf-buds.
Jule had now saved another dollar, and had gone down
to a florist's. "I want so many things," she sighed.
MAKCII 12, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
335
"And I've only got a dollar. Do you suppose I could
get a couple of trumpet-vines, and a honeysuckle, and a
Seven Sister's rose, and a hydrangea, and a scarlet japon-
ica, and a flowering almond, and a spice-plant —
" For a dollar?" asked the florist, smiling-. "Well, I
don't know. I suppose you wouldn't mind if I throw in
a Jacque-rose and a chrysanthemum?"
" Oh," cried Jule, with sparkling eyes, " do you really
mean so?" And the treasures she bore off were almost
more than she could carry.
There were disappointments about the little garden
this year; the flies hurt this, and the slugs that, and the
drought and the rain the others, and the watering was
more than she could do without Danny, and Danny used
to wail that he couldn't be in two places " to oust, so he
couldn't." Still, there were moments of satisfaction when
the pleasure-boats went up the river, or when she saw
the minister shooting by in his boat and looking at her
roses.
But the third summer Jule's undertaking was a suc-
cess. "Wife," said her father, "our Jule's got quite a
garden down at the old hen-run. I'll rig a spout from
the spring in the barn, so she won't have to be hauling
water."
"Sis," said Tom, "I'm going to do a day's work in
your garden. What shall it be?"
" Jule," called Jack, " I've got a syringa-bush from the
Squire's for your garden." So true it is that nothing
succeeds like success.
But these were scattered offerings. Usually Jule, and
Danny, when he could, plodded on alone, and had their
reward of pure joy in beaut}'.
It was a day in the depth of summer that Jule went
shopping downtown with her mother. Mrs. Spencer was
hard to please, and Jule amused herself with the adver-
tisements posted on the shed; "Take Pill's Powders,"
half covered by a circus picture, on which again were
pasted smaller notices of the " Sale of a'Farm,'' the loss
•of a Black Cat, the Village Improvement Society's reward
of fifty dollars, an Auctioneer's Sale. Jule was still
spelling them out when her mother came across in some
•excitement at what the shop-keeper had been saying.
"I want you to run right home, Jule," she said, "and
go clown to your garden— I'm glad you put 011 your white
print — I suppose your hair's all a snarl," lifting the hat
from the yellow curls. "Make haste— some one's com-
ing there."
" But I'd rather wait for you," said Jule.
"Never mind me. I'll be there pretty soon." And
Jule wonderingly did as she was told. "That old hen-
run!" she heard her mother murmuring.
Jule reached the garden and was down on the bulk-
head just in time to see a flock of sails swelling up the
stream, and circling a little way above like swans, while
a fleet of row-boats followed, trimmed out with flags.
There were girls singing in the boats, and some one in
the last boat was blowing a cornet. It seemed to Jule
AS lovely as a crowd of water-nymphs could be. Look-
ing back to see if her mother was coming, she saw her
father and Jack and Tom hurrying down the bank where
Jack used to drop his line; and while she was looking
back, a boat rowed up, the rowers grasping the bulkhead
while some one stepped out — the minister!
The minister turned directly and addressed the people
in the boats, who stopped their music at once. "My
friends," Jule heard him saying, "you have all seen the
photograph I chanced to take of this place as it was three
years ago. You all see it now — the building a tower of
verdure, the walls turned to banks of living green, the
fences transformed to curtains of blossoming splendor.
Where all was shapeless confusion, here are terraces that
in spring blushed red with roses, and where now the lilies
stand in ranks of white and gold. The spot that was a
waste haunted by the owl and the dragon — that is, by the
gobbler and the hen— is turned to a blaze of glory. So in
accordance with your decree, I now deliver the reward of
tifty dollars for the greatest improvement within our bor-
ders to Miss Julia Spencer!" And then, before he stepped
into his boat and the oars dipped, and the sails of the oth-
ers ran up, and the whole shining flotilla moved away,
the minister had handed to the astonished child, who
stood winding her curls about her lingers, a purse through
whose meshes sparkled five golden eagles. And then a
shout went up from all the boats, and the cornet began to
play and the girls to sing, "Come into the garden, Maud,"
till the music was nothing but an enchanting echo in the
distance; and Jule, in her bewildered amazement, came
near dropping the purse into the river.
"Well, that's what I call worth while," cried Jack,
when Jule had left off crying her tears of surprise.
" What you going to do with it, Sis?"
And then Jule drew herself up with pride and glad-
ness. "I am going to get Dr.nny his artificial hand."
" And it will be the best thing that ever grew in a gar-
den !" cried her father.
A GIANT BOY.
THE largest boy iu the world happens, oddly enough, to be tlie
tallest man also. He is uearly seven feet in height, and
shooting upward so rapidly that nobody cares to pn-dirl Ins-
tall he will be when he really gets his growth. He is only six-
teen years old, and a thorough boy so far as his feelings anil
actions are concerned, although he is not unite so rapid in his
movements as hoys of sixteen usually are. This young giant is
an Aral', and his name is IIass:in Ali. A German professor who
was travelling in Arabia met him with a caravan which had
pitched its fainel's-liair tents on the oasis of Siwah-Ainons, and,
after considerable bargaining, induced the boy to go to Germany,
where In1 is attracting considerable attention.
Hassan is a Mohammedan in religion, and nothing can pre-
vent him from kneeling with his face toward Mecca in the morn-
ing, at noon, and at sunset and saying his prayer, no matter
what he has been doing just before, or what is going on around
him. He dresses like an Arab in a long robe, which makes him
look taller than he really is. A fez or skull-cap always covers
his qneerly shaped pointed head, for the boy's head is not so well
developed as his body. His hands are a foot long, and his feet
are large iu proportion, but his head is rather sm.-ill for his size,
and tapers from his ears upward. He is intelligent, however,
and learns quickly everything that his instructors try to teach
him. In some matters he does not need instruction, and, al-
though he has allowed himself to be exhibited by show-people,
who are supposed to be shrewd in business matters, he has
proved a match for them, and is getting his share of the gate
receipts. So the largest boy in the world is a side-show, after
all.
DO YOU KNOW HER?
I HAVE a little friend who doesn't like to mend,
To dust, or set the table, or even make a bed ;
The very thought of sweeping nearly sets her off a-weeping.
And she always goes about it as though her feet were lead.
She " hates" to rock the baby, and says that some day, maybe.
She'll go away and linger where they have no bal-ies 'round
To keep folks busy rocking — but really this is shocking,
And she doesn't mean a word of what she says, I will he
bound.
'Tis true she cannot bear to even walk a square
To buy a spool of cotloii. or Mumps for mamma's mail,
And it's much against her wishes that she's set to washing
dishes,
While to speitk of darning stockings is enough to make hi r
pale.
In fact, she wants to shirk everything resembling work.
And the only thing she does enjoy, so far as I can say,
Is to take her doll and hook, and within soi (uiet nook
To read of elves and fairies, and dream the hours away.
E. L. .SYLVESTER.
336
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
t
The ventriloquist appeared to hesitate a moment, then said,
abruptly, " Yes, you may have him for three hundred dollars."
When the money was paid and the ventriloquist was about to
leave, lie turned to the dog, patted him affectionately, and said,
"Good-by, old fellow, you've been a good friend to me."
•• You arc no friend of mine," returned the dog, " to sell me to
another master. As you were mean enough to serve me such a.
trick, I'll have revenge. I'll never speak another word as long
as I live."
The ventriloquist then made off with all possible haste.
H. C. C.
A SALTY tear stole down his manly cheek,
His hands fell helpless at his side ;
Those tight-sealed lips of his refused to speak,
For in his stalwart breast faint hope had died.
" My mamma will not let me have some pie,"
Ci-ied he. "Oh, Charles," sobbed Sue, "if not too late,
When we are wed to bake a tart I'll try :"—
Aud he had said, "It is too long to wait."
THE TALKING DOG.
fl^HERE was once a ventriloquist so poor that he was obliged
J_ to travel on foot from town to town to save expense, much
after the manner of the gentleman of adventure in Grimm's tales.
One day he was joined on the road by a dog as forsaken as him-
self, but who seemed desirous of becoming his companion.
They journeyed together to the next town, and entered the
tavern tired, hungry, and penniless. Not being troubled with
the inconvenient refinement which comes from a long line of
gentle ancestors, the man had developed the quality known as
cheek, so he and the dog sat down to eat a supper for which
they could not pay.
The room was full of loungers, and the stranger took a con-
spicuous seat. "What will you have?" asked the only v. alter
the place employed ; and the order embraced nearly everything
on the bill of fare.
"But I want something for my dog, too," he added. "Ask
him what he will have." The waiter muttered something about
" Whatcher giving us," so the stranger said, "What, don't you
like to? Well, Bruno, will you have beef or fish ?''
" Beef, every time," said Bruno, looking with mild brown eyes
at the waiter.
"Aud what to drink?"
" Water, thank you," said Bruno.
By this time the landlord and every one in the place was eager
with suppressed wonder, and gathered about to hear a dog
talk.
The ventriloquist feigned indifference by eating with avidity.
while the landlord was evidently considering something. His
cogitation resulted in his offering the stranger three hundred
dollars for his wonderful talking dug.
FORECAST.
'Tis said that the temperature's =,
But yon cannot deduce as a s=
If to-day has been fair,
An event which is rare,
That all of the davs of the w=
MOTHER. "Bobby, why have you stuffed cotto'n in your ear;
does it. ache ?"
BOBBY. " No ; papa said that everything he tells me goes ir»
one ear and comes out the other. I want to prevent this."
THE ONE-SIDED PICTURE.
PAPA had a picture hanging on the wall,
To-day I knocked it over playing with my ball;
Down came the picture, splitting with a crack,
Shortly I discovered nothing on its back;
Now, I thought it funny, something new to rue,
tjo I'll tell iny papa, when he comes to see.
JIMMIE. " Mamma, are there any letters on my face ?"
MAMMA. "No,child; why do you ask?"
JIMMIE. " Mr. Stnithers said he could read it like a book."
BOBBY'S PESSIMISM.
I THINK it's going to snow to-night,
And drift the garden bed,
Aud hide the pathway out of sight,
Because I have no sled.
m
Jlfe
THE RAINY SEASON IN TUB TROPICS— SAVED BY A NECK.
HARPERS
m
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1895, by HABPKR A BRO-
All Rights Reservi
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 803.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, MARCH 19, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.;
TWO DOLLARS A TEAR.
AN ADMIRAL FOR A NIGHT.
A STORY FOUNDED OX FACT.
BY A. J. ENSIGN.
riMHE midshipmen of H.M.S. Sorcerer were assembled
JL for instruction in ordnance and gunnery under the
gunnery Lieuten-
ant, Mr. Kelton.
Boys who are in-
tended for officers
in the English
navy are taken at
a very early age,
sometimes at no
more than thir-
teen years, and
are sent to sea
aboard men'-of-
war. From the
very beginning
they are taught to
command as well
as to obey, and
are made practi-
cally acquainted
with the work-
ing of everything
aboard ship. So
some of the boys
who sat in a semi-
circle before Mr.
Kelton were little
fellows who look-
ed as if they might
just as well have
been at home with
their mothers.
But the English
are a sea -going
people, and so
these youngsters
were afloat for the
purpose of learn-
ing how to main-
tain Great Brit-
ain's acknow-
ledged supremacy
011 the sea.
Suddenly there
was a sharp explosion, and a cloud of smoke filled the
room. Mr. Kelton had asked for a demonstration of a
certain percussion fuse, and for an answer some one had
'QUARTERMASTER, SIGNAL TUB FLEET TO GET UNDER WAY AND GO TO SEA.'
thrown a large torpedo. Of course it fell immediately in
front of the one boy who would never have done such a
thing. The throw-
er had sent it
thither 011 pur-
pose.
"Merrill, "call-
ed Mr. Kelton,
sharply, "stand
up!"
The boy, whose
face had colored,
and who looked
painfully con-
scious, stood up.
" What do you
mean, sir," said
Mr. Kelton, "by
such a piece of
larking in this
room?"
" If you please,
sir," answered
the boy, in a trem-
ulous tone, "I
didn't throw it."
"Didn't you?
Well, who did?"
A deep silence
followed this
question, while
Horace Merrill,
the accused boy,
looked around at
his companions
with an eager ex-
pression. If Mr.
Kelton had been
watching that
look instead of
gazing at the oth-
er boys, he would
have seen that it
rested for a mo-
ment with special
meaning on Harry Lotham, who fidgeted a little.
" Merrill," said Mr. Kelton, " we're here among officers
and gentlemen. No one admits having thrown that thing.
338
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
It was near you, and your face betrayed you. I believe
that you did it."
" I did not, sir," said Horace, firmly but respectfully.
"That will do. I do not wish to hear any more denials.
I shall recommend that you be given extra duty, and re-
fused liberty to go ashore to-night to Lady Stanniwell's
reception."
Horace looked as though he were going to cry, but he
manfully restrained his tears. He had set his heart on that
reception, because all the officers of the fleet were going,
and his uncle and cousins were to be there. However,
there was no help for him, unless he would tell who did
throw the torpedo, and to do him justice it must be said
that that never occurred to him.
"He'll tell, "said Harry Lotham, when the class had
been dismissed.
"No, he won't," replied Paul Merry weather; "he isn't
half a bad sort, though he is slow."
" Slow !" sneered Harry. "Well, I should say he was."
" Well," answered Paul, " he is slow, but he keeps get-
ting on. He's our senior, you know."
" Only because he's older. He's fifteen, you know."
However, Horace did not tell. He kept his knowledge
to himself and brooded on the injustice of his punishment.
He fell into a very bitter mood, and wished that he were
a farmer's boy rather than a young officer in the Queen's
navy. The other boys did not enjoy his discomfiture
very long, for they learned that they too were going to be
left on board. They had expected to go, but the Admiral
had decided to permit all the lieutenants and sub-lieuten-
ants to go ashore, as well as the higher officers,and so it was
necessary that three or four midshipmen be left aboard in
charge of the ship, especially as she was the flag-ship of
the fleet. We should think it a piece of insanity to leave
boys less than sixteen years of age in command of a pow-
erful ship, much less a fleet; but in the English navy the
middies are brought up to this kind <>f work. It was in-
tended, however, that two of the sub-lieutenants and one
lieutenant should return to the Sorcerer at the beginning
of the first watch.
At four o'clock in the al'lcrnoon the Admiral left the
ship in his barge, accompanied by his flag officers, and be-
fore half past four all who were to go had gone. Horace
leaned over the rail and looked dismally at the shore,
which was not quite two miles away. All around the
Sorcerer lay the other seven ships of the fleet, riding calm-
ly at their anchors. Horace was tired of seeing them,
and heartily wished them all at the bottom of the sea.
" I'd like to know what I'm going to do with myself
till midnight?" he muttered. " I think I'll turn in pretty
early."
At five o'clock a breeze suddenly sprang up from sea-
ward, and in a very few minutes it had brought above the
horizon a large bank of heavy-looking gray clouds.
" We're going to have a summer blow, "said Paul Merry-
weather, who was walking the deck.
"Yes, sir," said the quartermaster on watch; "audit's
goin' to blow 'ard, sir, 3rou'll see."
"Well, we're in a comfortable berth here, "replied Paul.
"Well, sir, that's purwidin' 'ow 'ard it bl.ows, sir. It's
a werry good place 'ceptin' when the wind is out o' the
sou'west ; an' I'm a-thinkiii' that's where it's a-comin'
from, sir, I do."
" Bother, Martin! You're always croaking," said Paul.
" Werry good, sir," said the quartermaster, walking
away, and gazing out to sea through his spy-glass.
At 5.30 it was blowing something better than a fresh
breeze, and the white-caps were beginning to roll in fast
and thick. At six o'clock there was enough sea on to
start the whole fleet bobbing up and down. There was
a peculiarly long underswell, which meant that there was
heavier weather outside and worse to come. The old
quartermaster shook his head, and muttered to himself:
" I'd be werry glad, I would, if them orficers was aboard
wot's a com in' at eight bells, fur it's my werry humble
opinion they won't get here then."
The wind freshened every minute, and now began to
blow in sweeping gusts that ripped the white combings
off the seas and sent them swirling away to leeward in
sheets of spoon-drift. The eight vessels of the fleet be-
gan to pitch in a lively manner. Some of them got out
second anchors, and Paul, who was in charge of the deck,
followed this excellent example.
" By the great horn spoon," he said to Harry Lotham,
" we're in for a smoky sou'wester of the worst sort."
"Right you are. Paul," replied Harry; "and I don't
half like the way we ride here. Some of the fleet will
drag anchors before this night is over."
"Shouldn't wonder," remarked Paul.
"But say," exclaimed Harry, slapping his leg, as an,
idea suddenly occurred to him, " what a blue funk we'd
be in if the Lieutenant didn't get back!"
"Didn't get back!" echoed Paul; "of course he'll be
bark, and the two subs with him."
" I'm not so sure of that. Look at the sea. I tell you
that in an hour from now the best launch in her Maj-
esty's navy won't be able to get off here."
Paul saw that Harry was right, and he looked anxious
and uncomfortable.
" This is pretty rough. I don't want to have the re-
sponsibility of deciding what's to be done."
" You won't," exclaimed Harry. "Softy's our senior.
He's in command of the ship. What a lark!"
"Lark? Not much," answered Paul. "He's in com-
mand of the whole fleet."
" Whew-w-w !" cried Harry. "That's so. Admiral
Sir Horace Merrill, K.C.B. Oh, that's too good!"
But Paul shook his head. The aspect of affairs began
to be serious. The gale was increasing, and the sea was
making in an alarming manner. Some of the ships were
pitching very heavily, and it was beginning to grow
dark.
" Quartermaster!" called Paul.
" Yes, sir," answered the man, approaching and salut-
ing.
" I'm afraid Mr. Kelton will not be able to get off."
"No, sir, 'e won't, sir; nor nobody else. That sea's too
'eavy, sir. They couldn't make 'eadway against it, sir."
" How are we holding on?"
"Werry well, sir, so far."
There was a doubtful tone in the quartermaster's
voice which alarmed Paul.
" Harry," he said, " won't you go and find Merrill, and
bring him on deck?"
" Indeed I will. What a lark!"
Harry went below and found Merrill asleep in his
state-room.
" Here, Admiral !" he shouted, " turn out. There's the
old scratch to pay. It's blowing a howling gale."
"Well, what of it?" said Horace, sitting up.
"What of it? You're a sweet Admiral. Don't you
know you're in command?"
"Hasn't Mr. Kelton come back?" asked Horace, with
sudden anxiety.
"Come back? Do you think he can fly? Come on
deck and take a look."
But Horace was already aware from the motion of the
ship that the weather was heavy. He hastened on deck
and was dismayed at the scene.
" You're in command of the fleet," said Paul.
Horace turned pale, sat down on an arms chest, and
buried his face in his hands.
It was a sudden and terrible responsibility for the boy.
Eight splendid war-ships were trying the dangerous ex-
periment of riding out a sudden gale, at anchor, with a
lee shore less than two miles astern of them. If any ship
MARCO 19, 1895.
HAEPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
339
parted her chains she would in all probability be a wreck.
And this midshipman, a boy of fifteen, found himself the
senior officer oil board the flag ship.
"Hello! I say, you're not going to cry, are you, Ad-
miral?" said Harry, mockingly.
"If you please, sir," said the quartermaster, "the
Bumblebee is dragging her anchors."
Horace sprang to his feet and threw one hasty glance
about him. It was inky dark, and he could see nothing
except the swaying light of the other ships. The Bum-
blebee had signalled her trouble.
Harry Lotham said, "Now then, Admiral —
"Silence!" said Horace, shortly. "Boatswain's mate!
Call all hands, and up anchors. Quartermaster, signal
the fleet to get under way and go to sea."
Harry nearly fell down with astonishment as the boat-
swain and quartermaster hastened to obey these surpris-
ing orders.
''I told you," said Paul, " he wasn't a bad sort."
"My eye, though !" exclaimed Harry. "I wouldn't
like to be in his shoes when the fleet comes back."
"Nonsense! He's right, you'll see."
For a few seconds the ebony sky was illuminated with
the flashing of signal lights. Smoke began to pour out
of the funnels of the eight powerful cruisers. Anchors
were hove up, and in half an hour the whole fleet went
butting the great billows out into the open ocean, where
there was no danger of going on a lee shore.
For thirty-six hours the vessels remained at sea, and
then, the gale having broken, they steamed back into
the harbor, and anchored in their former stations. Al-
most as soon as the Sorcerer's anchor went down the
Admiral's barge was alongside, and the commanding
officer came aboard.
"Who is the senior officer here?" he said.
" I am, sir," said Horace, saluting.
" Did you order this fleet to go to sea?"
" Yes, sir," said Horace, meekly.
There was a breathless silence for a moment, and then
the Admiral extended his hand and grasped that of the
astonished Horace.
" My boy, I did not think you had it in you. You'll be
an honor to your profession. You saved the fleet."
" I told you he wasn't a bad sort," said Paul to Harry,
after that young man had apologized to Horace and con-
fessed to Mr. Kelton.
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
BY K I R K M U N K O E,
AUTHOR OF " DOUYMATES," " RAFTMATES," " CAMrHATES," ETC.
CHAPTER V.
A PARSON AT THE WHEEL.
PHIL had been sitting alone in the pilot-house, where,
in the chill darkness, the weight of his responsibility
seemed almost too great to be borne. He had held out
bravely until this moment, but now it seemed as though
a great black wall of difficulty were reared against him,
and that it was gradually enclosing him on all sides.
The many channels revealed by the waning light of that
day must all be explored ere the right one could be de-
icrmiiiecl. Phil dared not consider how many days might
thus be spent, for he knew he had no days nor even
hours to spare.
At any moment now the river might close, and once
caught in the relentless fetters of its ice the Chimo must
remain motionless until crushed and swept away by the
resistless fury of the spring floods. In the mean time
what would become of her little company, stranded there
in the open river, exposed to the full fury of arctic blasts,
remote from human habitation, and equally so from any
visible supply of fuel? They had not even the fur cloth-
ing without which none may spend a winter in tluit
region.
Why had he not laid the boat up in the first winter
harbor that offered? He could remember that they had
passed several very good ones, some of which were in the
vicinity of Eskimo villages.
Why? Because he had made up his mind to reach
An vile, and declared his intention of doing so, and his
Yankee grit was not of the kind to be daunted by ob-
stacles nor turned back by them from an uncompleted
duty. Why? Because he had promised Captain Hamer
to carry him to Anvik. Phil Ryder did not often make
promises, being opposed to them on general principles,
but when he did make one he kept it. Why? Because
while he was thus thinking, that cheery voice came ring-
ing out of the darkness, bringing with it such a tin-ill of
hope and relief that just to hear it was worth all the toil
aiid anxiety expended in reaching that point.
Serge was down in the galley cooking supper, and
whistling a melancholy little tune that tried its best to
sound cheerful as he did so. Poor Isaac, the millwright,
homesick, grief-stricken, and despairing, was working by
lantern-light on a rude coffin for his dead comrade. Mr.
Sims, morose and silent, was busy with his machinery,
while Gerald Hamer tossed wearily but weakly beneath
the piled-up coverings of his narrow bed.
All heard the first shout of that unknown voice, :ind
each suspended operations to listen. When it came again,
and they heard Phil's answering hail, all rushed to the
gangway on that side, that is, all except the sick man,
and there, holding a flashing lantern to guide him, they
excitedly awaited the approach of the unknown.
While they peered vaguely into the gloom, listening
for the slatting of sails or the rattle of oars, he suddenly
swept alongside, seated in an Eskimo kyak or skin boat,
very similar to the one in which Phil and Serge had made
their perilous voyage on Bering Sea a month before,
only much smaller.
They could see that he was a white man wearing a
thick close-cut brown beard, but otherwise he might eas
ily have been mistaken for a native, so completely was he
enveloped in a kamleika. The hood of this was drawn
over his head, while its ample skirts were fastened t<> tin-
coaming of the hatch in which he sat, so as to prevent
the entrance of water.
"Well, if this isn't a bit of good fortune then I don't,
know what good fortune is!" he exclaimed, smiling up
into the eager faces peering at him from the steamer's
side. " May I come aboard?"
"May you come aboard?" cried Phil. "Well, sir. 1
rather think you may, for even if you didn't want to I am
afraid we should capture you, and drag you on board by
force. Why, we couldn't be more delighted to see you if
you were the President of the United States himself."
" I doubt if you can be half as happy to see me as I am
to meet with you thus fortunately and unexpectedly,''
laughed the stranger.
"In that case," replied Phil, "you must be the very
happiest person in the world, for you have made me al-
most that."
During this interchange of courtesies the stranger had
been unlashing his kamleika, and now stepping lightly
from his fragile craft, he gained the deck, to which his
kyak was also lifted.
"Ah, but this is cozy and comfortable!" he remarked,
as he entered the well-lighted mess-room which opened
from the galley, and was warmed by its glowing stove.
Serge had just finished his preparations for supper, and
the well-laden mess-table did indeed present a sight cal-
culated to cheer the heart of a hungry man. especially
our who had been for hours battling with the ice of an
Alaskan river.
340
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
•'You gentlemen seem to be travelling and living like
princes," continued the stranger; "but I must confess to
considerable surprise at finding you on the river so late
in the season. You are bound down and out, I pre-
sume?'1
"No, sir," answered Phil. "We are bound up the
river, and hope to reach Anvik before it closes."
" Anvik!" cried the stranger. " Why, that is the place
to which I also am going."
"Alone, at night, and in a bidarkie?" asked Phil, in-
credulously.
"Yes," laughed the other; "though I was only trying
to cross the river to-night for fear it might close before
morning and leave me stranded on the further bank. It
was a reckless thing to undertake, I acknowledge, and but
for your timely presence I might have come to serious
grief ere this. It had grown so dark before I sighted
your lights that I could no longer avoid the floating ice,
and was in great fear that my boat would be cut open.
You may believe, then, that I was glad to see them.
Now to find myself seated among those of my own race,
and at a civilized table after a rather trying expe-
rience of Eskimo hospitality, caps the climax, and renders
my content complete."
"Are y.ou 011 a limiting or fishing trip, sir?" asked
Phil, anxious to establish the status of this new acquaint-
ance.
" Neither just now," was the laconic answer.
"Trading, perhaps?"
"Not exactly."
"Travelling for pleasure?"
" Yes, so far as it is a pleasure to do my work."
" Prospecting?"
"For some things, though not for gold."
"In government employ?"
"No."
" Working for the company, perhaps?"
"If you mean for the fur-trading company, I am
not."
Phil was nonplussed, and knew not what to ask next.
In fact, but for the stranger's affable manner and quiz-
zical smile he would not have pushed his inquiries so far
us he had. Finally he said: "I need not ask if you are
a good boatman, for any one who can manage a bidarkie
as well as you do must be that. I do want to make one
more inquiry, though, and I hope you will excuse my
iuquisitiveness, but we are in distress and greatly need
assistance. Are you a Yukon pilot?"
"For that part of the river lying between here and
Anvik I am," replied the stranger. "In fact, I know it
so well that I would not hesitate to run it in the dark.
Furthermore, to satisfy your very proper curiosity con-
cerning an utter stranger who has forced himself upon
your hospitality, I will say that I am a trader, a prospec-
tor, a fisherman, a hunter, a boatman, a mechanic, a
writer, a teacher, something each of a lawyer, a physician,
and a surgeon; and, above all, I am a preacher of the
Word of God, for I am a missionary of the Protestant
Episcopal Church, and stationed at Anvik."
" Oh, sir, are you, really?" cried Phil. "Then you
are the very man I have wanted most to meet. Had I
not heard that you were at Anvik and believed you
would help us, I don't think I should have dared bring
the boat even as far as I have. I was trying to make up
my mind what to do next, and had almost decided not to
attempt a further ascent of the river, but to go into the
best winter quarters we could find to-morrow. You see
we are all mixed up as to the channels, and greatly afraid
of being caught by the ice."
" As well you may be," replied the missionary. " But
pardon my curiosity. You speak of bringing the boat
to this place, as though you were her captain. Is that
the case?"
"No," replied Phil, with a flush. "I am only her
first mate, while Serge here is second, and Mr. Sitns is
engineer. But I am acting as Captain during the illness
of our real Captain, Mr. Gerald Hamer, who is down with
the measles."
"Indeed!" said the missionary, gravely. "lam very
sorry to hear that, for in this climate, especially, measles
is a serious sickness, and has been a terrible scourge on
the river. I have just been spending a few days at one
of the Shagelook villages instating a native teacher in
place of one who died of measles a few weeks ago. How
long has your Captain been ill?"
" Since the day we entered the river."
"And do you mean to say that you have navigated
the steamer all this distance without help?"
"Oh no, sir! I have had the help of Serge, who is a
capital sailor and can talk Russian besides, and of Mr.
Sims, who is a first-class engineer, and of Isaac, who is a
millwright, but who makes one of the best firemen I ever
saw, and we had another millwright, only he died last
night, and a native pilot part of the way."
"Well, you have certainly shown an immense amount
of pluck and perseverance," exclaimed the missionary,
"and I don't think I know another boy of your age who
would have done as well, for you don't look as though
you were out of your teens yet — are you?"
"Almost," answered Phil again, flushing; "that is. I
shall be in two years more."
"And Serge?"
" He is almost as old as I am."
" How about Isaac?"
" Oh, Isaac is 'most twenty."
" Well, Mr. Sims," said the missionary, turning to the
engineer, " I congratulate you on your crew."
"Yes," assented the man, gruffly, "they're a pretty
plucky lot of boys. We've been mighty short-handed,
though, since the Cap'n took sick, and Martin died, and
my assistant was set ashore for mutiny, and I for one
am powerful glad to see another white man come on
board, even if he is a parson."
Smiling at this equivocal compliment, the missionary
asked if he might visit the Captain, and was conducted
by Phil to the sick man's bedside. As they came away
he said to the young mate: " Your Captain is dangerous-
ly ill, and the sooner you get him to Anvik, where there
is a doctor, the better. Therefore I would advise you to
up anchor and make the run to-night, especially as I fear
the river may close before morning."
CHAPTER VI.
FLOATING ICE AND " CHY."
HAPPY to share his responsibility with the stranger
who had been so providentially sent to their relief, Phil
willingly agreed to his proposal, and ordered the C/iin/o
to be again got under way. The night was clear, cold,
and still ; but there was no moon, and its darkness was only
dissipated in a measure by brilliant starlight. This, how-
ever, was sufficient to disclose the outline of the western
bank, which the new pilot kept always in sight. He
seemed actually to be able to feel his way up the mighty
river, avoiding false channels and sandbars as if by in-
stinct, and never hesitating as to which side of an island
he ought to pass.
Phil occupied the pilot-house with him, and after a
long silence he exclaimed, admiringly, " You surely must
have been a steamboat man, sir, before you became a
missionary."
"No," laughed the other, "I never was on a river
steamer until I came out here, though as a boy I did have
some experience in running- up and down Lake Cham-
plain, near which I lived."
"In New York State?" asked Phil.
MARCH 19, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
341
" No; in Vermont, not
very far from Burling-
ton. So, you see, I am a
genuine Yankee."
" I might have known
it.," said Phil, " from
your handiness at all
sorts of things. I won-
der why it is that, as a
rule, the Yankee is such
a Jack-at-all-trades?"
" I suppose it is be-
cause he is generally
taught by necessity in
the shape of poverty,"
replied the missionary.
"And even if he were
not so taught at home,
he certainly would he
out here, where a man
must be able to do near-
ly everything for him-
self or leave it undone."
"Jalap Coombs was a
Yankee," meditated Phil.
"That is, when he didn't
feel that he was a sub-
ject, and he could do
more kinds of things than
any one I ever knew.
Howl wish he were with
us at this very minute!
I don't believe we could
get into any scrape or
trouble that he wouldn't
manage to get us out of
somehow."
" Is he dead?'' asked the missionary.
" No, indeed. That is, I hope not, though he might as
well be so far as we are concerned, for I don't suppose
we shall ever see him again. We left him on Oonimak
Island, Serge and I did, and now I suppose he is in
Sitka or Victoria or San Francisco, or perhaps bound for
the other side of the world."
Being thus started on the subject of Jalap Coombs, Phil
proceeded to give his new friend an account of their re-
cent adventures in Bering Sea, and of the prominent part
taken in them by the Yankee mate of the sealer Seamew,
in all of which the new-comer was deeply interested.
While Phil was in the midst of an account of how Serge
obtained fire from brimstone and feathers, the second
THE ARRIVAL OP THE UNKNOWN.
to do any work before morning; but the appearance
among them of the missionary and a few words from him
produced a magical change in their attitude. Five min-
utes later a long line containing every able bodied man
in the settlement was formed from the steamer to the
wood-pile, and a steady stream of cord wood sticks passed
from hand to hand was flowing aboard.
Within half an hour every inch of wood-room was
filled, the natives were made glad by double the pay they
had ever received for a similar amount of work, and the
Chimo was backing out of the channel she had made for
herself toward open water.
Only fifteen miles now lay between her and Anvik,
and though the night had grown bitterly cold, her pilot
mate himself appeared to report that their stock of fuel held out hopes that they might still make the run with-
was nearly exhausted.
"Then we must stop at Makagamoot for a new sup-
out being nipped in the rapidly forming ice.
Under every pound of steam that her boiler would bear
ply," said the missionary pilot, promptly, " though I fear the sturdy little craft quivered to her very keel as she
we may have trouble in getting the natives to turn out ploughed through the black waters, grinding the floating
ice - cakes beneath her bow, tossing them to one side, or
beating them to fragments with her powerful wheel.
"Certainly, sir," agreed Phil, and so the Chimo, being Leaving the missionary alone in the pilot-house, Phil
at this time of night. Still, with your permission, Cap-
tain Ryder, I think we would better try it."
somewhere in the vicinity of the invisible Eskimo settle-
ment at that very moment, was headed for the west bank
of the river. Her whistle was sounded vigorously at
short intervals to attract attention, and in a few minutes
her crew had the satisfaction of seeing a glow of fire-
worked with Serge and Isaac at heaving wood into the
roaring furnace. In face of its fervent heat it was hard
for them to realize that the night was cold, and much less
that the mercury stood close to zero.
But the silent figure grasping the frigid spokes up in
light on the beach not more than a mile ahead. At the the pilot-house knew it, and his anxiety increased with
same time there came an ominous crunching of ice, and
all hands instantly realized that inshore the river was al-
ready frozen over. The ice was not yet thick enough to
stop them, though it materially impeded their progress.
They finally succeeded in reaching the bank.
At first the few sleepy natives who came, out of curi-
each slow - dragging hour. Was it indeed too la!e to
reach a safe winter haven? Had he been too officious
and self-confident? He almost feared so, and said as
much to Phil when the young mate came up to inquire
how many more miles they had to go.
"Not a bit of it, sir," cried the lad. with all his old
osity, to witness the unusual sight of a steamboat at that cheery confidence fully restored. " Why, if you hadn't
time of night and thus late in the season, were disinclined come along we should certainly have staid there until
342
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
morning, in which case it is plain enough now that the
Chiino would have gone no further this winter. Now
you have at least brought us within reach of safety. But
aren't we nearly there, sir? It seems as though we had
come fifty miles instead of fifteen since we took on that
rtood."
"Yes; and if it were daylight, which it soon will be,
we could see Anvik now. When we have made a couple
more miles I shall head her into the ice. In the mean
time I wish you would ask Serge to make me a pot of his
hottest city, for I am nearly perished with the cold."
"A pot <>f what?" asked Phil, thinking he must have
misunderstood the word.
'' Of city. Tell him a <•//// /n'ft is what I want."
"Ay, ay, sir! CJii/ it is, and you shall have it if
there's a drop to be found aboard the boat."
Serge laughed at the Order, and hastened to fill it;
while Phil followed him, curious to see what he made.
"Why, that's tea you are putting into the pot!"' he ex-
claimed, a few minutes later.
" Certainly," replied Serge; " cliy is tea, and tea is cliy,
and the tea-pot is chynik,aud chy peet is a lunch of tea
and bread. So there's a lesson in Russian that, I know
you won't forget in a hurry. Now, if you will carry it
up to him I will get back to the furnace door, for poor
Isaac is just about used up."
So the young Captain acted as steward, and then, taking
the wheel while his guest drank cup after cup of the
scalding liquid, became quartermaster, and was finally
restored to his original rank by having the missionary
ask his permission to send the Chimo into the ice. "It
may injure the hull somewhat," he said; "but we've
either got to risk it or leave her to winter out here in the
middle of the river; for we are abreast of Anvik now."
" Of course we must put her into the ice and rush her
just as far as she will go," answered Phil. "We can
afford to damage her hull to a very considerable extent
better than we can afford to leave her out here to be
crushed by the spring break-up of the ice."
So in the first flush of morning the brave little boat
was headed toward the western bank, and began directly
to crash through the thin ice fringing the channel. For
some distance she cut her way as though it had been so
much window-glass. Then her progress became slower
and slower, until finally she came to a full stop, though
the big wheel was still lashing the water into foam behind.
"Stop her! back her! stop her! go ahead full speed!"
were the orders tapped out on the engine-room gong, and,
rushing at the ice with gathered headway, the Cliinio
crashed her way through it for a hundred yards further.
Again she was backed, and again charged the enemy with
furious impetus. This time the shock was terrific. Again
and again was the attack repeated, until finally she gained
barely a length.
With the next shock the steamer climbed the ice, and
ran nearly half her length out of water before the barrier
broke with her weight and set her once more afloat.
"That's all, "said Phil, quietly. "We don't dare try
that again. If we did we'd probably open every seam in
her, even if we didn't break her back. So that's all we
can do, and here is where the Chimo will have to lie for
the winter. It's too bad, though, for we aren't more than
a quarter of a mile from shore."
"I don't know about lying here all winter," replied the
missionary. "I don't like it myself, and if you would
rather have the boat close to the bank I guess we can
manage to put her there."
"How?" asked Phil.
"You wait here and get breakfast while I go ashore on
the ice. I won't be gone more than an hour, and when I
come back I'll tell you, "was the reply. "I shall bring
the doctor with me, too."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE WAKING UP OF CROSS CORNERS.
" \\TELL?"
VV "I bore it, that's all."
" Was it as dreadful as that, dear?"
"Every bit, Barbara Wallace. Couldn't have been
worse unless it had been a funeral."
Barbara sighed, and stirred uneasily on her couch.
The bright afghan slipped to the floor, and lay in a ruin-
bow heap with the soft light of the shaded lamp upon it.
Myra threw herself down beside it, and ran her fingers
in and out of the meshes listlessly. She was tired. It
liad been rather a trying evening, and the walk home
through the ill-lighted, ill-paved streets had added the
finishing touch of dissatisfaction.
"I didn't want to go, you know," she said, looking up
half apologetically into Barbara's pale face above her.
" No, I know. You only went to please your fussy old
sister," Bab said, gently, touching the brown head with
slender caressing fingers. Something like real distress
crept into her face. Surely she knew very well what
rebellious thoughts were tumbling over each other in
Myra's mind — what longing for the old, congenial, plea-
sant home, and utter disgust for the narrow inartistic sur-
roundings about her now. They had only been at Cross
Corners, as the bit of a village was called, for a week or
tw-o, but there had been plenty of time for whiffs of its
depressing atmosphere to steal in to invalid Barbara on
her sofa — stifling whiffs they were, and she had done her
best not to breathe them in. Both the girls had made a
brave stand against them, and until to-night Myra's bright
young face had kept its smiles in Bab's room. It was
that dreadful "social" that had proved the last straw to
her courage. No wonder Barbara heartily wished she
had not coaxed her to go.
"I meant it well enough," she was thinking, gloomily.
" I thought maybe she'd get acquainted with some young
folks, and take a bit of comfort even in Cross Corners."
The fire snapped now and then, and the pretty clock on
the mantel-piece ticked in its customary cheerful way,
but for the rest it was still enough in the room. Down-
stairs they could hear the strident voice of Farmer Bow-
ker reading aloud jerky scraps of news to his wife. They
had been to the " social " too, and were sitting up un-
usually late over the Weekly Bulletin, and doubtless a
brewing of black tea and a doughnut.
"There, now," Bab said, suddenly, "tell me all about
it, that's a good child."
"Yes, ma'am, why not?" Myra answered, briskly,
coming out of her brown -study. "Well, everybody
was there, from the butcher's wife down to the min-
ister's baby. Everybody folded their hands — so — and
made lovely wall-flowers, in straight rows, like the bach-
elors'-buttons grandmother used to have, you know, be-
side the phlox and sweet-peas. Everybody smiled but
the minister's baby, and he howled. Everybody said,
'What an early spring we're a having,' and 'How dread-
ful muddy it is beyond Hiram Dolittle's barn !' Every-
body—" "
"That's enough!" Bab cried, laughing. "Now tell
me what you did and what you said."
"I? Oh, I was a wall-flower too, of course, between
Mrs. Dolittle and our friend downstairs." She tapped
the floor gently with her heel. "I smiled too. I said,
'How dreadful muddy !'-
"Myra Wallace, stop joking and be 'sober earnest'
for a minute. I want to know the true inwardness of
that 'social.' Now begin. Didn't you try to say some-
thing sensible once in awhile?"
"To be sure I did, Mistress Prim. I asked the milli-
ner's clerk if she had read the last book —
Barbara fell back on her pillow with a groan.
" Did you ride your hobby, Myra 2"
MAUCII 19, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
343
Mvra rose to her knees and laid her cheek 011 the pil-
low too. A loosened wisp of hair fell across her fore-
head, and Bab's thin hand lovingly put it bark in place.
" Just a teenty tonty bit of a ride, Babsie," Myra said,
whimsically. " I only trotted solemnly. I never can-
tered a bit."
Bab smiled. " Well?'1 she said.
"Well, that's the worst of it all. Bab. I don't know
but it's the key to it all — the humdrumness and crabbed-
ness and narrow contractedness of the whole of Cross
Corners."
She got up and walked restlessly up and down the lit-
tle room. At the table she stopped to adjust the lamp
shade and disarrange the papers. At the farther, side of
the room she halted before her beloved books and passed
her hand tenderly along their shining backs. The low
bookcase had come from their old home, and its burden
of books was Myra's especial glory and comfort. And
it was scarcely to be wondered at, for there was no lack
of good things in printer's ink upon the long shelves.
Tlie best and oldest and the best and newest were there.
Barbara, waited patiently for the return trip across the
room. When it was made, she said, quietly, "How do
you mean, dear?" But Myra did not seem to hear.
"Do you believe it, Bab Wallace?" she broke out, im-
patiently. " I don't have the least idea that one of those
girls there to-night has ever read anything — anything!
Not even Uncle Tom's Cabin or Robinson Crusoe .'
I talked with some of them about reading — there wasn't
anything else to talk about after we'd disposed of Hiram
Dolittle's mud— and they were just as blank as a sheet
of paper. There was one girl said she'd read Vicar'
of Wakefleld three times, and lots and lots of Ladies'
Repositories. She said there were 'awful nice' stories
in the Ladies' Repositories. Her grandmother used to
take them. It was the queerest, feeling— I don't know
whether it made me sorrier or madder. There doesn't
seem to be any sense in it, Bab."
The good Bowkers were passing the door on their way
up to bed.
"Ain't that a dretful nice story, Hannah?" they heard
Farmer Bowker saying. "It's gittin' excitin'er right
along now."
"Ain't it, Ben? I can't skearcely wait till next Bul-
letin to see who done the murderin'." Mrs. Bowker's
voice drifted back faintly through the long hall. The
girls looked at each other and laughed.
" I don't care," Myra said, stoutly; " that's better than
nothing at all."
" Oh, don't, Myra! Just think, ' murderiiigs' and hor-
rors in coarse clothing! /say, blessed be nothing at all,
if that's the only literature to feed on."
Myra went back to her books, and took out one or two
dainty volumes and turned the leaves with a little rustle
of impatience. The familiar pages troubled her queerly.
" Poor girls!" she murmured. " They're starving, but
they don't even know it, and that's about the hardest part
of it. Bab," wheeling suddenly about, "let's go to bed."
"Let's," Bab said, wearily, lifting herself with a little
tug that sent the faint color flying out of her cheeks.
Myra was at her side in a moment and had her strong
arms round the frail figure.
"There, now, lean with all your might and main.
Babsie. I'm suffering for exercise."
They went into the small bedroom adjoining. Mrs.
Bowker, just blowing out her lamp, felt the slight jar of
the dragging steps over the shaky old floor.
"They're goin' to bed, I calc'late, an' it's a mercy, for
they set up too late most gener'ly for sech young things,
let alone one on 'em's bein' so slim. They're real nice
gals, Ben," she added, aloud, as she stumbled across to
bed in the dark.
"Hey?" Farmer Bowker said, sleepily. " Yes, yes, so
they be — but they don't seem noways cut out in a CYoss
Corners pattern." And then he went to sleep, in the
swift, comfortable fashion of all men with unencumbered
consciences and unimpaired digestions, while his good
wife lay for an hour thinking kind, motherly thoughts
about the lonely girls down the hall.
When Bab was tucked into bed, Myra crept out into
the sitting-room in her night-gown, and sat down by the
lire. She planted her elbows on her knees, and her chin
in the palms of her hands, and pondered long and haul
It was not altogether comfortable pondering, either, for
she wrinkled her brows and tapped her bare toes uneasily.
Once she got up and felt her way over to the bookcase
A faint glimmer from the fire touched the gilt lines on
some of the bindings of the books and brought them into
shining prominence. Myra laid her .cheek against the lit-
tle bright spots in the dark room.
" I'm a selfish old hypocrite," she whispered. "But I
don't see how I can do it— no, I don't!"
She went back again to the stove, and began the hard
thinking all over. The clock ticked tirelessly on, and the
lire burned down to embers. Myra shivered.
"Heigho!" she said, aloud, straightening herself out
and rubbing her aching knees. "I'll go to bed — and / 'II
do it .'"
Barbara stirred when she got into bed beside her.
" Never you mind, Babsie," Myra murmured, softly
patting her. "We'll wake up Cross Corners yet."
It was dull and forbidding weather next day, and the
mud was something to wonder at. But after breakfast,
when Bab was ensconced on her sofa with a bit of fancy-
work and a book, Myra was off "downtown" through
the mud and drizzle. She came back with a plentiful
supply of smooth brown paper and a bottle of mucilage.
" What in the world are you doing, Myra Wallace?"
Bab said, a little while afterward.
Myra sat on the floor with a litter of books and paper
all aroujid her, and there was the snipping sound of an
industrious pair of scissors. " Oh, covering my books,"
she said, carelessly enough.
"What for?" asked Mrs. Bowker, who happened to be
standing by, watching with a great deal of interest.
" Why, they won't be so likely to fade, you know, or
get soiled. It's a good idea, I think."
Barbara lifted her head a little, and looked at Myra
curiously. But Myra was very busy. She began to
hum over her work, and the snipping went on steadily.
" There's something to pay," Bab thought. " But I'll
wait. She'll tell me by-and-by."
Bab was well acquainted with her younger sister, so
now she settled back on the pillow and waited.
One by one the pretty books were neatly covered, and
stood on the shelves in long brown-uniformed rows —
like so many reform-school girls in brown linen pina-
fores, Myra thought, in dismay. But she kept resolutely
on till they were all covered, except one shelf of chosen
volumes, which were permitted to remain in their old
bright dresses. It was nearly dark when the scraps
were cleared away. Myra put everything to rights care-
fully, and then drew a low stool up beside the couch and
sank down on it, with her hands clasped round her knees.
She swayed lightly back and forth for a few minutes.
Then she said, " It's an idea, Babsie."
"I thought so."
" It began at the wall-flower festival, and ended last
night in the dark after you went to bed."
" I thought so."
"Well, don't you want to know what it's all about?"
"Awfully."
So the new "freak " unravelled itself, and lay, straight
and plain, before Bab's surprised sight.
" Do you think we can make it go, Bab?" Myra asked.
"Of course we can. But we must do it rig-lit, dear,
344
HARPER'S f OUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
MYRA BEGINS THE "WAKING UP."
It won't do to make it seem like a charity affair. That
would hurt the girls' pride, and spoil everything. You
must ask a little fee for joining, you know, and impose
a bit of a fine for keeping the books too long."
Myra shrugged her shoulders. " Well," she said, " if
I must, I must."
The supper-bell rang, and Myra had to go downstairs.
The subject was resumed when Bab was taking her tea
from the little table beside the sofa awhile after. Then
the plan was canvassed in all its particulars, and there
were not a few puzzling places to smooth out. It was
decided to make out a little catalogue of the books that
the girls could look over and select from, and Myra be-
gan it that very evening.
Presently all Cross Corners knew that the "Wal-
lace girls" had set up a circulating library, aiid every-
body could have a share in it. And almost everybody
did have a share in it, too. Before Bab and Myra could
fairly realize it, the shelves in their bookcase were full
of wide, lonesome gaps, and the books tipped over side-
wise on the least provocation. Myra set them up straight
again with unfailing patience. She even bore the occa-
sional bruises and battered corners of her pet books with-
out a grumble. It was part of her idea, and she had
decided to bear it, while she sat with her elbows on her
knees, in the dark, that night of the " social."
"It's working, Babsie," she said one evening, a few
weeks later. " Mrs. Bowker joined to-day. Listen! The
farmer's reading my Kenilworth aloud to her this min-
ute."
If they could have known in how many homes the
leaven of their little books was working for good that
same evening, the knowledge would have sent them
away to bed with still lighter hearts.
The time of waiting at Cross Corners was getting near an
end. Myra was actually looking sober at the thought of
going away from Cross Corners, and then there was some-
thing else on her mind besides — something she told Bab
about one day while they were waiting for the tea-bell to
ring.
"I've decided something,
Bab."
" Well, another idea?"
"No; it's some more of the
same idea," Myra said, soberly.
" Tell me," Barbara said.
" I'm going to leave my books
here, you know, Babsie — that's
what it is."
"Oh!"
"I can't bear to take them
all away, and they need 'em
more than I do. And so — and
so, we'll just leave them behind
as a nest-egg, Barbara, my dear."
" So we will, little sister."
"A nest-egg might hatch a
whole big library in time; why
not?"
" Why not,of course? Myra,
you're a little brick!"
Barbara's eyes were shining.
She drew Myra down beside her
and kissed her all over her face.
After a few minutes she sudden-
ly exclaimed, "Now it's my
turn! I've got an idea myself!
We'll get the girls together to-
morrow and propose a grand
concert — entertainment — any-
thing you please — to raise funds
for more books still. We'll do
it before we go home, Myra, so
we can have a hand in it. I can help plan, and you
can help perform. See?"
" I guess I do see, Bab Wallace! and there's some fee-
money already, and the fines, you know —
"And the supper bell— run down to supper, dear," Bar-
bara said.
Both new ideas grew and nourished. The girls entered
delightedly into the entertainment plan, and worked like
beavers, and the result quite satisfied them all.
A large audience attended the modest little affair, and
before the evening ended more than one enthusiastic
friend added a bit of a free-will offering of his own. The
nest-egg was working wonders.
Cross Corners suddenly woke up and lent the little
enterprise kindly advice and sympathy, where more sub-
stantial aid was out of the question. Mrs. Hiram Do-
little offered the girls a little unoccupied room on her
ground-floor to be used as a library, and good Mrs. Bow-
ker donated a bright rag carpet and one or two chairs.
Some of the boys put their heads and tools together and
began the making of some shelves, and even the milli-
ner's little clerk had her share in the pleasant giving.
She went over to the "library" one day when the girls
were just putting it in order for its opening day, and
took from under her shawl a vase of bright artificial
flowers.
" I thought maybe they'd sort of chirk things up
some," she said, timidly. " An' they won't need no wa-
terin' an' tendin'. I had thought of havin' them red
roses on my summer bunnit, but I'd a sight ruther they'd
be over here helpin' along."
The day they went there was quite a crowd of sorrowful
friends at the little station to see them off and wave their
handkerchiefs, moist with tears, as long as the thread
of smoke behind the train was visible.
Myra pressed her face close to the window, and watched
the last Cross Corners landmark speed by, with a real
lump in her throat and a troublesome mist on the pane.
"It's a good, kind place, Babsie," she said, softly.
" We'll go back again some day, won't we?" A. H. D.
BOYS AND GIRLS OF NEW YORK STREETS^
B Y E. \V. T O W N S E N D.
II.— DANNY CAHILL, NEWSBOY.
TITHE sun had not risen over Long Island when Danny
_l Cahill woke from his slumbers on the bale of hides
on the East River pier. He woke with a happy start, but
then there was a sudden fear that the great events of
yesterday were only a dream.
Was it true, he began thinking — and the doubt almost
made him cry — was it true that he had been rescued from
the policeman by a man who had then given him, the
poor little street arab. a dollar to start business with.'
He had, or else he dreamed that he had, put those four
silver quarters in his trousers pocket, and then tied a
hard knot in the pocket so that the money could not roll
out in the night.
He hardly dared to feel in his pocket to find out, but he
did feel, slowly, at last, and, sure enough, the precious
money was there. Then he gave such a yell of delight
that the night watchman, who had not yet gone home,
stuck his head out of his little office and called out, ask-
ing Danny if he had the nightmare.
"It's something better dan a night mare or a day
mare," Danny answered. " I've got a stake."
Then he told the whole story to the watchman, and
when he came to the name of the man, Mr. Kean, who
had loaned him the dollar, the watch-
man said quickly: "Oh, that explains
it. It's 110 more than right Kean
should do a fair thing for your father's
son. Dan Cahill helped Kean many's
the time."
"How?" asked Danny, excitedly.
"Oh, it's all politics, which you
couldn't understand if I told you," the
watchman answered, walking back to
his office, muttering to himself, "Kean
is a good friend to have, for all the bad
things they say against him."
"Good luck to you, Danny boy,"
the watchman said, as Danny bade him
good -by. He ran down the street
toward the Fulton Fish Market.
Before he had become a -business
man, as he already began to think he
was, Danny often went down there
early in the morning, and sometimes,
for some little help he gave them,
the marketmemtook him to a restau-
rant and bought him coffee and a roll.
This morning he had 110 time to waste
with the marketmen, but went at once
into a coffee-house and proudly order-
ed a cup of coffee and a roll, the first
meal he had ever bought in his life.
"Who's going to pay for it?1' the
waiter asked.
"Never you fear," answered Danny.
"I've got cle price in me pocket."
As he was going to pay for it him-
self Danny bravely put four lumps of
sugar in his coffee, although he had
never before dared to put more than
one. Then he was so eager to get up
to the newspaper press-rooms and be-
gin work, he scalded his mouth with
the coffee, untied his pocket, paid five
cents, and ran up to Newspaper Row, as
the street is called, where a great many
of the big New York papers are printed.
* The first story of tliis series, " A Street
Waif's Luck," appeared in No. 792.
At the first office he reached there was a hurrying lot
of men dragging big blue-striped bags filled with papers
ill wrappers, which they threw like sacks of potatoes into
United States mail wagons, and those wagons were driven
off with a rush and rattle to ferries and railroad depots.
Other men and boys were hurrying just as fast with big
tied bundles of papers, which they threw into delivery
carts and wagons, and these were being driven off to all
points of the city to supply dealers and news-stands.
Danny ran around to the room where the newsboys
were being served with their papers, and found a crowd
there, pushing and struggling for their places in the line
on its way to the clerk who was selling the papers, and
in a minute more he was running down toward Fulton
Feny, on the East River, with teiV each of three different
newspapers under his arm, yelling like an Indian. He
was yelling just to practise his newspaper call, for he
met very few people on his way at that time of the morn-
ing, and most of these were from the newspaper press-
rooms.
At last, so much out of breath he could hardly call his
papers, he reached the ferry entrance just as a boat came
in from Brooklyn. Danny darted among the hundreds
AS YELLING JUST TO PRACTISE HIS NEWSPAPER CALL.
346
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME '
of people offering- his goods, feeling very important, but
the people all seemed in too much of a hurry to even no-
tice him. When the wagons began leaving the boat one
driver asked Danny to toss him up ;i paper, and when he
had done so the driver threw him down a cent, and the
boy clutched it with delight.
" If I only sell one paper for each boat I'll get rich
pi-etty soon, I don't t'ink," Danny said to himself.
Just then a man hurrying toward the ferry touched
him on the shoulder, picked out three of his papers —
two two-cent and one one-cent paper — handed him five
cents, and passed on without a word, or even looking at
him. That nearly took Danny's breath away, and lie
stared after the man, saying to himself, "He must be
what dey calls a millionaire."
There were other boys at the ferry selling papers, and
Danny noticed that they did not run about as he had
done, but stood in one spot as the people passed from and
to the boat, so lie determined to do the same.
It was then his day's trouble began in earnest. The
first place he took a stand was soon claimed as his
"ground" by a much larger boy. Danny was inclined
to make a formal declaration of war right then and there,
but he reflected that the chances were very much in favor
of his getting whipped, and while that would not have
held him back, usually, he knew that commerce and war
did not go well together. After he had been driven away
from two or three places he began to think that there
might be such a thing as too much caution, so he made
up his mind to try just once more, no matter what might
happen. He did not have to wait long to find out. He
had not stood still more than a minute, calling his papers,
when a boy came up to him, and said, "Get off here,
kid."
" Off where ?" asked Danny.
" Off de eart'," responded the other.
"Say, kid, you just put me off de eart'," Danny said,
angrily; and, as he expected, there was war. He had to
drop his papers, of course, and even in the thick of the
iight he saw an outside boy run in and grab his whole
stock in trade and scamper off with it. That made
Danny so mad that he made up his mind to have the
only satisfaction there was left, and he was having it in
getting the best of the fight, when the police officer on
post separated the boys, cutfed their ears, and ordered
them to "get out of that."
That was an order which, of course, had to be obeyed,
and Danny hurried back to the newspaper offices for a
fresh supply of papers, but when he felt for his money to
pay for them, he nearly fainted with horror at the discov-
ery that in his rough-and-tumble fight all his money had
been lost, or perhaps stolen, from his pocket. For a. time
he was so overcome by despair he could not even think.
It was the greatest tragedy of his. life, and there seemed
nothing he could do except to go back to the hateful beg-
ging. He hopelessly wandered, back to the ferry, but
was only laughed at by the boys when he made a tearful
search for his money. He thought for a moment that
he would go to Mr. Keau, tell him the whole story, and
ask for another stake.
"But he'd t'ink I was lyin' to him, and if he believed
me he'd t'ink I was a no good, and dat is just as bad as
lyin'," Danny thought, as he gave up that idea.
He slowly wandered down the water-front, wondering
if the best thing for him would not be to drown, and end
all his trouble.
" Only," he said to himself, " I don't know how to
drown; I only know how to swim. So I just got to go
on liviii', and bein' a no good."
He kept on down by the wharves until he reached the
Battery, as the park at the very end of New York is call-
ed. It was a warm day for May, and there were a num-
ber of well-dressed people there, enjoying the fresh air
and view on the broad stone quay which runs along
edge of the park next to the water of the bay. Da •
noticed one little boy about his own age who was
ning ahead of his father and mother playing with a 1
pug-dog. Danny was thinking what a fine thing- it w<
be to have such clothes as that boy had, when the h
suddenly took up the dog, and exclaiming, " I'm gc
to give Carlo a bath," threw it into the water.
The boy's mother screamed, and all of them rai
the edge of the quay, where they shouted in despair
the tide was high, and there was no rock above u
for the struggling dog to land on, and the face of
quay was made of smooth stones.
"Say, did ye want to drown de pup?" asked Dann
"No," exclaimed the lady, in tears. "We wan
save him! Oh, how can we save him?''
"Say, dat's dead easy," Danny remarked, and a:
did so lie jumped in the water. He soon had the nov
most drowned Carlo in one hand, swam to the edg
the quay where he could stand on the submerged r<
and held the collapsed dog up so that the lady's liusb
by lying down on the quay, could reach it. The
was passed to its owner, who wrapped its wet and ;
ering form in her cloak, and then the man reached dL.....
again and pulled Danny up.
" Dere don't seem to be nobody to wrap me up in dere
coats," remarked Danny, and started to walk away, when
the gentleman called him back.
"You are a brave little fellow," the gentleman said,
"and you must not go away until we have done some-
thing for you."
"He'll die of cold," said the lady, "for poor Carlo is
shivering with all the wraps around him."
They hurried Danny across the park to a carriage
which was waiting for them, and after Carlo had been
wrapped in one of the carriage robes, Danny was wrapped
in another, and bundled into the carriage.
"Now we'll drive you home; where do you live?" the
gentleman asked.
"I 'ain't got no home, and I lost me dollar," Danny
said, beginning to cry, though why he couldn't tell.
As the carriage drove up Broadway the lady and gentle-
man made Danny tell them his story, and when he had fin-
ished the tale of his day's misfortune the gentleman said,
after a whispered consultation with his wife, "I think
the best thing for us to do is to drive to Mr. Kean's of-
fice;" and he gave the coachman that order.
" But he'll t'ink I'm a no good," objected Danny.
" I guess not, after I've told him what you did for us,"
answered the gentleman, smilingly.
At Mr. Kean's office Danny and the gentleman went
in, and the carriage drove off. The gentleman went
into1 Mr. Kean's private office, and while they were still
there the carriage returned, and the little boy came in
with a bundle. He gave it to Danny, and said manfully,
" I'm very sorry what I did made you get your clothes
wet, and as it was my fault I've brought you a new suit."
Danny ran around behind a desk, and was dressed in
his new suit when Mr. Kean and the gentleman came out
of^the private office. The gentleman shook hands with
Danny, and went away with his son.
"Well, Danny," said Mr. Keau. "you made some good
friends to-day."
"I should t'ink I has," replied Danny. "Look at de
new harness de kid rigged me out in. Say, I look like a
dude wid me whole shoes and stockin's, don't I?"
"Yes; and there is something more than that for you
which the gentleman left with me," Mr. Kean said.
" Here is part of it for another start,"and he handed the
astonished Danny a dollar.
" All dis for a pup what was so fat it couldn't swim!"
Mr. Kean did not tell Danny that the gentleman had
left five dollars for him, thinking it better to keep the
MARCH 19, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
347
balance until Danny should have learned his business,
and knew how to keep his money.
Again Danny started in business as soon as the after-
noon papers were out. He did not go near the ferries or
bridge again, for he knew he would have too many fights
on his hand on account of his new clothes, and he had had
fight enough for one day. He went further up town on
Broadway, and worked until his unaccustomed shoes
made his feet sore, but he was succeeding, and forgot all
about the pain.
Tired and happy he went to the Newsboys' Lodging-
house that evening, had a big hot supper there for six
cents, and for six more hired one deck of a double-deck
cot, sleeping for the first, time in his life on a spring
mattress and between sheets.
" Dis must be de way dose millionaires live," Danny
dreamily thought as he fell asleep.
He soon learned the tricks of the newsboys' trade so
well that by Saturday he paid Mr. Kean the borrowed
dollar, and had enough capital left to continue business
with. He saved his money with an object, for Mr. Kean
had promised him that as soon as he had saved enough
money to buy a uniform with lie would find him a posi-
tion as a messenger-boy.
"And den," thought Danny, "I'll go over de whole
city and see all de sights. Perhaps I'll even see de ani-
mals up in Central Park."
THE YOUNG QUEEN OF HOLLAND.
BY KATHARINE DE FOREST.
HER Serene Majesty Wilhelmina Heleiie Pauline Ma-
rie, Queen of the Netherlands, is now a charming
young girl of fourteen, whose life so far has been as un-
clouded and happy as though no cares of state were
hanging over her head for the future.
She has no public duties to fulfil, and she will have none
until she comes of age and is crowned. She lives very
much as do other young girls of her age, except that
much more is expected of her, and she is brought up
with a constant preoccupation of her future destinies.
Her life is very simple. She -rises at seven, goes the
first thing to say good-morning- to her mother, and then
at eight has her breakfast, after which for three hours
she is busy with her lessons and masters. Her first gov-
erness until she was four years old was a French woman.
Mademoiselle Liotard, who was then replaced by the
Queen's English governess, Miss Winter, who has been
with her ever since. Queen Wilhelmina is very bright
and clever, and studies hard, so as to learn everything
that the ruler of a kingdom should know.
First and foremost the world expects of a Queen a good
knowledge of foreign languages, so as to be able to talk
with diplomats of all nations in their own tongues, and
the little Princess before she was ten years old spoke
fluently French, Dutch, English, and German, and had
a fair knowledge of Italian. She has masters in every-
thing that goes to make up a girl's education, including
music, drawing, riding, and dancing. And besides, she
is taught all about her army and navy, her colonies and
their products, and whatever interests or touches the lives
of her people both at home and abroad.
After lessons are over she takes a walk with Miss Win-
ter and her favorite dog, a larige hound named Swell.
Never was a dog more devoted to his mistress than is Swell
to the little Queen. While she is busy with her masters
he keeps guard at the door of her room, and no one can
make him leave his place. As soon as she comes out
after the lessons are over lie gambols round her, and runs
on before her to the garden with an air of showing her
the way and protecting her.
The little Queen is very fond of pets, of which she has
a great number, and she never forgets to go every day
and carry some dainty to her horses, ducks, pigeons,
chickens, and the beautiful fawns in the chateau park.
Like most little girls who have no brothers and sisters
to play with, she is extremely devoted to a large family
of dolls. A charming little Swiss chalet has been built
for her in the park at Apeldoorn, and her play-rooms
are there. She treats her dolls exactly like children,
and is very anxious that they should not grow up to
be ignorant or stupid. All the lessons that she studies
herself she tries to teach 'to them. Around the chalet
there is a pretty garden full of fruit and vegetables, in
which the Princess works, and when she was younger it
was no unusual sight to see her there surrounded by the
elder children of her family, whom she was trying to
have learn the names of all the different products. One
of her favorite occupations used to be making sand pies,
which she offered with great gravity to her mother and
the ladies of the court when they came out to visit, her.
She never leaves the chalet without gathering a bouquet
of flowers for her mother's room.
A certain part of every day the Queen spends with her
mother, who always reads to her a chapter out of a beauti-
ful Bible, superbly printed, and filled with magnificent
engravings. After lunch, which is served at half past
twelve, the Queen goes out to drive behind four pretty
ponies, and she handles the reins with great skill herself.
When she was a very little girl her mother made her a
present of a tiny riding-pony called "Baby." The little
Princess grew taller and larger, while Baby remained the
same size, so the young Queen now mounts a new pony,
named " Gazelle," and Baby is left to reach a happy old
age in the royal stables.
It must not be supposed that even outside of lessons all
the Princess's time is spent in play. In the first place, as
the Dutch people care a great deal for order and cleanli-
ness, she is obliged to keep her chalet and all her belong-
ings in perfect order herself. She has learned, too, to
make her dolls' clothes, and is a beautiful seamstress; and
her mother, who does exquisite embroidery and tapestry,
has taught her little daughter the same accomplishment.
Every week_Queen Wilhelmina receives an allowance
of pocket-money. Part of this she gives to the poor, whom
she visits herself. Out of the rest she must buy all the
presents she gives, and each year some of the money is
spent in getting ready a Christmas tree for twelve children
belonging to the servants of the palace. The tree is raised
in all its glittering splendor in the Swiss chalet; and what
wonder that the happy children are devoted to a little
Queen who has knitted the warm mittens and tippets they
receive with her own fingers, and paid for their toys out
of her own pocket-money!
One thing that the Queen Regent was determined
upon was to give her little daughter the delight of play-
ing with other children of the same age. The story goes
that Queen Wilhelmina was once overheard saying to a
refractory doll, "Now be good and quiet, because if you
aren't. I will turn you into a queen, and then you'll have
nobody at all to play with." An only child is apt to be
a little lonely. And the Queen misses all the fun of go-
ing to school with other girls, and having intimate friends
among them, with whom she can share all her pleasures
and "talk over things"; but, at the same time, it must.
not be supposed she is always alone.
Every now and then Queen Emma gives a party for
her little daughter, made up of the children in the neigh-
borhood of the chateau. They all have good times to-
gether, without the least stiffness or etiquette, and the
tall old trees in the park resound with merry voices and
gay laughter. In the winter Queen Wilhelmina may be
seen skating on the lakes in the Hague with other chil-
dren, and one of her greatest pleasures is to show her
skill at snowballing.
348
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUMK XVI.
THE QUEEN IN PEASANT COSTUME.
Like most little girls, Queen Wilhelmina is very fond
of " dressing up." Was there ever a child yet, I wonder,
who did not like to see herself in other clothes besides her
own? and queens, it seems, are no exception to the rule.
The Queen loves to put on a peasant's dress and parade
about in it. On one of her last birthdays her mother
made her a present of a magnificent costume, like one
worn by her ancestress, Louise de Coligny. In this she
has a really grand air, like a queen, and she says she
thinks, dressed in that way, she inspires a great deal of
respect from her dolls.
But it is on her birthday, the 31st of August, that the
little Queen's happiness is at its height. Lessons, work,
and tasks of all sorts are put away for the moment, and
the entire day is given up to enjoying herself, and mak-
ing other children happy. The chateau gates are thrown
wide open, and the children of the country about are al-
lowed to frolic at their will in the park, while a certain
number of Queen Wilhelmina's friends are invited to
spend the day with her. It is she herself who receives
her little visitors and presides over the beautiful table
spread for their refreshment, and it is she who is made to
feel responsible for their entertainment.
All sorts of delightful things are done to amuse them.
The birthday fete is generally celebrated at the Chateau
of Loo, the favorite residence of the royal family; and
there are drives behind the Queen's ponies, promenades
in her boat Emma, visits to her pigeon-house and all her
pets, not forgetting the dolls.
In spite of all that is done to give her a happy child-
hood, the small Queen is not to be envied. She is a
simple, winsome little girl, but at the same time a Queen,
and treated as such by all around her, while the
responsibilities of her position are always looming up
before her. Even driving out behind four ponies be-
comes anything but a pleasure when one must think of
nothing but bowing to her people as she passes. One
day the Queen was found with all her dolls packed into
a box that she was pretending was a carriage. "You
have been so naughty to-day," she was overheard to say,
"that I positively must punish you. I shall take you
to drive through all the principal streets in the Hague,
and you must bow to every person you meet. You won't
like it — I don't — but you must do it, because it's a punish-
ment." Even though shielded as much as possible bv
her devoted mother, the young Queen has a much more
difficult place to fill than that of other girls.
She has a great deal of spirit, and a quickness of com-
prehension that will stand her in good stead some day,
as you can see by this little story. She was the idol of
her old father during his lifetime, and one day, going into
his private room, she found the King walking the floor
with his hands clasped behind his back, in a thoroughly
bad humor. He paid no attention to her as she entered.
"Are you angry, papa?" she asked, going up to him.
Her father either did not hear, or pretended not to do so.
The Princess stood for a second, and then crossing her
own little hands behind her back, she began to walk
resolutely up and down by the side of her father, with-
out saying a word. The King made two or three turns
more, and then, looking down at his small companion, he
suddenly burst out laughing, and caught her up in his
arms, with every trace of his ill -nature gone. This
shows the woman of resource who understands mana-
ging men..
THE DETECTIVE IN FICTION AND REALITY.
BY INSPECTOR THOMAS BYRNES,
Superintendent o£ the New York Police Force.
I AM asked to write for HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE about
a detective's work, what it is like, and how it is done.
Let me begin by saying that it is not at all like the notion
I had formed of it when I was one of the young people
myself. Then I liked to read about the mysterious de-
tective who was everywhere just at the right time, and
guessed without half trying what it would have taken
common people years to find out by the closest kind of
thinking. I suppose boys of to-day like him as well as
I did. I judge so from the way he tiptoes about in the
books yet, just as he did then. He is such an old friend
that it seems almost like treachery to denounce him.
But I am afraid there is no help for it. The detective
of fiction is a fraud. He doesn't exist; in fact, he is im-
possible. There never was anybody like him anywhere.
The detective of real life does not walk about in dis-
guise with a stage-whisper. Very far from it. He is a
man of the most practical kind, commonplace he might
seem to some of my disappointed young readers; but th;it
would not be quite true, except in so far as devotion to
business and to the interests of those who place their
trust in him is commonplace, which, unfortunately, it is
not yet. I speak of the successful detective, of course.
The fact is that with him the detection of crime is a busi-
ness, a matter of hard work, of close reasoning, and, above
all, of a persistence that refuses to acknowledge defeat.
He succeeds by the exercise of faculties which would
make him succeed in any other line, as a doctor, for
instance, a storekeeper, or a lawyer, and pretty much in
the same way. He must have the ambition to find out
all there is in his line, and the patience to master it all.
It requires a lot of patience, for there is something to
learn for him as long as he lives. His is the study that
of all is most exacting, the study of human nature.
He must know the secret springs of men's actions, the
motives that made them criminals, their habits of thought
as well as their haunts, and the company they keep.
Aptness for this sort of work is important — a man who
has none of it cannot become a successful detective — but
MARCH 19, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
349
study is even more so. It is, as I said, a matter of rea-
soning-. Guessing one's way through a mystery is all
very well in books, but not outside of them. Disguises
are risky and impracticable. The real detective may
venture upon au occasional pair of false whiskers in the
night-time to conceal his identity, but he knows that
those whom he pursues have sharp eyes and quick wits,
and places very little reliance upon such subterfuges.
His reason and experience tell him that they are worry-
ing quite as much to escape him as he is to catch them,
and that if he keeps a cool head he has the advantage of
them. The old adage "the more hurry the less speed"
is as true of thieves as of honest men. In his haste and
anxiety to get away the thief or murderer will sooner
or later drop some hint that betrays him. He cannot
help it. Fear has warped his judgment. The detective
knows it, and has only to keep his eyes and ears open
and liis mind bright and at work to make sure of catch-
ing up in the end.
It is this knowledge which makes him attach a value
to facts that seem to the untrained eye unimportant,
and which persuades the credulous sometimes that he
is possessed of an extra sense denied to others. It is not
so. It is only common-sense put to extra good use. It
is his training that does it, just as the doctor's training en-
ables him to diagnose an unsuspected disease from symp-
toms that meant nothing to the uninstructed. Straws
show which way the wind blows. They sometimes show
the detective which way his prisoner is planning to escape.
I say "his prisoner" purposely. Itisin that spirit a detec-
tive must go to his work. From the moment he is put upon
the trail of a criminal he must be his prisoner as surely as
though he already had the handcuffs on him. In his lexi-
con there must be no such word as fail, though it takes him
years to run down his man. It is that kind of tenacity
which made the Bank of England secure against thieves.
They know that the Bank
will hunt them to the ut-
termost ends of the earth,
and spend a million to
avenge the theft of a thou-
sand. It is that sort of
determination which
broke up, after years of
patient effort that often
seemed hopeless, the band
of burglars that robbed
the Manhattan Savings-
Ban k in New York, and
with it the whole system
of organized thieving
which long had made the
city unsafe.
That gre'at crime was
an illustration of the kind
of game of wits against
wits the detective plays
with the thieves, of the
qualities that win it, and
the service the men are
to the community. The
bank, with its well-filled
vault, had tempted thieves
for years. They had made
more than one attempt
upon it, but it had suc-
cessfully resisted them.
Band after band had been
organized with the object
of robbing it, and been as
often dispersed, accident-
ally, its members being
caught in other thieving.
One master mind dominated it all, and always reorgan-
ized his scattered forces with the old aim. He finally ac-
complished it. His men broke into the bank one Satur-
day night, hound- the janitor, and robbed the vault of
bonds worth nearly three millions of dollars. They were
registered bonds, and proved worthless to the thieves. It
was characteristic that for their long years of labor, with
the jail always as the alternative of success, they got in
the end only a paltry few thousand dollars, not more
than any one of them could have spent in a week of riot-
ing. There is no poorer paid trade anywhere than that
of the thief, and the chances are all against him. How-
ever, in the long fight that followed with the police,
and which ended in the conviction of the burglars, they
showed that they had both brains and pluck. Their in-
fluence reached even to Washington, where Congress
was debating a. bill to issue duplicates of the stolen bonds,
and so to make all their labor go for nothing. The bur-
glars were finally caught, but it was years before the last
one was run down and captured. All of that time my
men were oil his trail, and though they often lost it, they
found it again. Their orders were to fight it out on that
line to the end, and they did. The result was, as I said,
to demonstrate that New York was no longer to he a
rendezvous for thieves, and they took the hint. We have
had no bank burglary here since.
The good detective is a man of resources. He must
know how to adapt himself to emergencies that are liable
to arise suddenly, demanding to be as promptly met. A
detective who hesitates is lost, or his "case" is, which is
the same thing. The blackmailer Welles, who wrote
threatening letters to Jay Gould, eluded all the traps we
set for him, and had fairly exhausted our patience and
ordinary resources, when the novel experiment was tried
of moving upon him en masse, as it were. Noticing
that all his letters were stamped at one post-office station,
THE REAL AND THE UNREAL DETECTIVE.
350
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
and having tricked him by an advertisement in the " Per-
sonal " column of a newspaper into sending one the next
day, we posted a letter-carrier at each letter-box in the
district, and a detective between every two. The letter-
carrier had a key to the box, and was to open it every
time that a letter was dropped, and before the person who
had dropped it was out of sight. If it was addressed to
Jay Gould lie was to raise his hat as a signal to the de-
tective watching him. If not, he was to slip a rubber
band over it so that the next might be more readily iden-
tified. It took some two hundred men to carry out this
plan, but it succeeded, and black-mail ceased to be a safe
or [laying business in New York. In an hour we had
our man. It is results that count in the detective busi-
ness, and justly. No effort or sacrifice is too great to
achieve such an end.
Though the detective of the story-books does not exist,
there is no lack of romance in the life of his real brother.
Fact is indeed often stranger than fiction to those who
look on at the development of a detective "case." Only
the actors in it have no time to look for dramatic situa-
tions. If they had, they would not be dramatic. Unger,
the murderer of his partner in the butchering business,
brought to police headquarters with blood-stained hands,
stubbornly refusing to speak, knowing that only his own
tongue could betray him to the gallows, was a wretched
assassin with apparently no spark of humanity or con-
science about him. But when he was put in a cell filled
with all the accessories of his crime — the blood stained
lounge upon which he cut up his victim, the saw and the
hatchet he did it with, where he could not sit down with-
out touching some of it — and cried for mercy, his sodden
soul stirred to its bottom by an aroused conscience, and
tore at the bars, clamoring, begging to be let out lest he
go mad, confessing all, he became at once an intensely
dramatic figure full of human interest, arousing pity in
the mind that had room for only disgust for him and
his crime but a moment before.
So with McGloin, "tough "at twelve, and murderer
at nineteen. Within a week after the murder we knew
which one of the gang had shot the saloon-keeper who
came upon them while they were sacking his place.
But we watched them more than six months before get-
ting the proof we needed to convict. Finally I had the
gang arrested, and had McGloiii brought to me. I sat
with my back to the window. Where he sat he com-
manded a full view of the yard. While I talked, a door
slammed down there, and there were steps on the pave-
ment. I knew that one of his three comrades who saw
him fire the shot was being brought handcuffed across
the yard. I saw McGloiu start, and asked him what
was the matter. "Nothing," he said, and tried to look
unconcerned. But he turned pale as death when, a lit-
tle later, the second of his comrades was brought in be-
tween two policemen, and when the door slammed the
third time, and the last of the witnesses was led across
the yard, he fell at my knee, and begged me to save him
from the gallows. He lived to recover his hardihood
enough to invite, on the night before he was hanged, the
detective who arrested him to "come up to the wake;
they are going to have a high old time at the house."
But that was bravado, not bravery. Murderers are rare-
ly brave, though they may die "game."
When all is said, there is one more quality the detec-
tive needs, the one without which the best points in any
mat) are, so to speak, loose-jointed. I mean discretion.
He must know how to hold his tongue, an excellent
thing for any man or boy to learn. He must acquire
the habit of hearing without speaking. And he hears
so much which it were better for all concerned to forget,
that he comes by-and-by to resemble an iceberg' in this,
that the biggest, most important part of his work lies
out of sight where no man ever sees or hears of it. But
the iceberg is a danger to navigation, particularly the
hidden end of it. In that the good detective does not
resemble the iceberg. What he hides, he hides for the
good and for the credit of a world whose shortcomings
he learns early to pity. So far from being an obstruc-
tion or a danger he is just the reverse. The world could
ill get along without the faithful detective to-day. I
think it could not get along at all.
If I have taken from my young readers a fancied idol,
because it was false, I have given them something in-
strad that is worth knowing and keeping. The bogus
hero of the story-books has led more than one boy astray,
and made altogether more mischief than all his vaunted
smartness could repair were he real. My advice to the
boys of to-day, if they will take it, is to let the lynx-eyed
sleuth with the catlike step severely alone. To many
boys who were full of promise once, he has served as the
introduction to the acquaintance of ihe real detective on
business which neither they nor he relished.
BUNKEY, MONKEY, AND JIMMIEBOY.
BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.
NEXT to his father and mother and his aunts and uncles
and liis meals there was nothing Jimmieboy liked much
better than Bunkey, unless, perchance, it happened to be
Monkey. The three were always together. Bunkey — who be-
gan life as a canton-flannel rabbit, and whose name of Buu-
nie had been changed by Jimmieboy to Bmikey for reasons best
known to himself — was a very quiet creature. It was said by
some of the other toys in the nursery that Bunkey was stuffed
with cotton, and certain it was that his ears were made of kid;
but he was very inoffensive in spite of it all, and never iniar-
relled with anybody exce.pt by request. Monkey was not quite
so retiring in his disposition as Bunkey — possibly because he
was nmde of plush, and had real kitten's fur for hair, and a
large rubber elastic to swing on, all of which tended to make
him proud. Nevertheless, he was a most agreeable companion,
and always, even when engaged in one of the quarrels I have
already mentioned, wore a smile on his face that was truly cap-
tivating. Jinmiiehoy's father once said that the smile was a,
misfit one, being at least four sizes too large for Monkey's face,
but this made very little difference after you had known Monkey
for a few days.
It was at night that Jiuimiehoy most strongly showed his at-
tachment to Bunkey and Monkey. For some' unexplained rea-
son he could never go to sleep unless his two friends were at
his side.
So it happened that on one beautiful moonlight night last
summer, after a day of very hard play together, Jimmieboy and
Bunkey and Monkey lay sleeping in the brass crib alongside of
I he big oak bedstead in which Jimmieboy's papa slept. One of
them was snoring very loud, which one I could riot at the mo-
ment say, though I suspected it was Jimmieboy, since I had
never seen a canton-flannel rabbit or a plush monkey that could
snore quite so successfully as the snore that night was being
snored, and in a moment I knew that my suspicions were cor-
rect. The noise echoing through the room waked Bunkey up.
"Dear me," he said, "what a dreadful racket! It sounds as
though somebody was trying to saw the house iu two. Hi!
Monke\ .'"
Monkey opened his eyes, sleepily, and shoved the bedclothes
away from his smile, which was still there, broad as ever.
"What?" he said.
"I can't sleep with all that noise going on, and I don't see
how you can," said Bnnkey.
" I couldn't if I had heard it," said Monkey ; "and uow that
I do hear it, I can't. Who's doing it, anyhow t"
" I thought you were, at tirst," returned Bunkey : " but as you
are awake., and as wide-awake people don't snore, I suppose it
must lie .Jimmieboy. Shall I wake him up f"
"No," answered Monkey, by this time thoroughly wide awake.
"Don't let's wake him. Let's take him off for a moonlight
walk."
•' First-rate scheme," returned Buukey.
"Elegant," murmured Jimmieboy, in his sleep. " Just what
I'd like. Where shall we walk to?"
" Well, I don't know," said Buukey. " Perhaps
MARCH 19, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
351
" We'll skip across the deep blue sea,
Or scale the mountain height;
\\V11 caper to the River Dee,
Or climb the moonbeams bright;
We'll nm across to ancient Rome,
We'll seek the Scottish lakes —
At any rate, we'll get back home
In time for buckwheat cakes."
' Exactly," said Monkey. " We'll do tbat, unless
" We trot about old China's walls,
Or rush through Germany,
Or visit Montmorenci Falls, .
Anil thence to Tuscany ;
Or out to see the frosty rime
Upon the Northern Coast —
But surely we'll be back in time
For hard-boiled eggs and toast."
As Monkey recited these lines Jinnnieboy seemed to see him-
self walking down a wooded lane. On one side of him walked
Monkey, and on the other hopped the long-eared Bnnkey, and
never before had either of them acted in so undignified a man-
ner. Bnnkey, for instance, would stand on the tip of his ears,
and recite such ludicrous rhymes as this:
" I met an Ant one summer's day,
And, mercy, how he wept !
His tears quite flooded up the way,
A- down his cheeks they crept.
"'See here, oh, Ant,' I said to him.
' I'ray lull me why you cry V
Is it for trouble or a whim
That tears suffuse your eye'?'
" "Tis disappointment, gentle sir,'
11. answered, sobbingly.
'I am an Ant, when I'd prefer
An I.'ucle much to be."'
And Monkey — well, his behavior was absolutely unaccount-
able. He would stand oil the extreme point of his tail and
whirl and whirl about until Jimmieboy was afraid be would
turn into a top, and then he'd fall flat on the ground, never once
forgetting his smile, and, beating time with all four of his legs,
he would siug sougs like this:
" If I looked like a battle-axe,
A shovel, or a rake ;
The fish that furnish seal-skin sacques;
A cat or box of carpet-tacks;
A gaudy rattle-snake ;
"A green-house or a coffee-pot;
An arm-chair or a gnu ;
A hammock ,or a corner lot,
A tennis-court or piece of shot,
I don't know what I'd do —
"For I do think of all the things
There are on land or sea —
From cisterns up to noble Kings —
The finest with or without wings
Are things that look like me."
"It's a good thing you are satisfied," said Bunkey. "I ad-
mire that in you. To be satisfied under the circumstances
would be too much of a strain on me.
"For candidly, oh, Monkey dear,
Although you're very witty,
I really must remark, I fear,
You're not what I call pretty."
"No," returned Monkey, "I don't think myself that I am
pretty. I am beautiful. But where shall we go?"
"Let us take Jimmieboy down that rabbit-hole I told you
about," replied Bnnkey, "and show him the Undergrouiidies,
and the Rootle-tootle birds, and the wonderful jewel-cave where
the King of the Rabbits lives."
"No,"' returned Monkey. "It is too damp uuder the ground.
He'll catch cold there. Let's take him up that Cocoannt-tree I
was talking to you about night before last — the oue that leads
to the country of the Upiut.heairies."
"I cannot consent to that," said Bunkey. " If he should lose
his grip while he was climbing and fall he might break his leg
or arm.
"And better a cold in the head say I,
And better a. stuffed-up nose
Than a broken pate,
And an injured gait
From a couple of fractured toes."
"But how are we going to settle our difference, then *"
•• 1 don't know."
"We'll have to leave it to Jimmieboy, I snppose,"said Monkey,
with a sigh. "Though then- isn't :iuy doubt that I am right."
"That reminds me of a conundrum," said Bnnkey. "When
is right wrong ?"
" I don't know," observed Monkey. " When?"
"When yon ought to go to the left," returned Buukey. "I
guess we'll have to leave it to Jimmiei>o\ ."
So it was decided to let Jimmieboy settle the question for
himself. Buukey led him to ;t fallen tree at the side of the
road, and sang to hirnras follows.
'• If you would see a wonderful land,
A land all covered with gold,
The home most grand of a happy band,
A people of wealth untold —
" If you would see why the rose-bush grows,
The source of its sweet perfume,
You'll turn your toes whither I propose,
Where the Undergrouiidies bloom.
"We'll slip riijlit down in this rabbit-hole,
We'll visit the oak-tree's root.
We'll meet the droll and musical mole,
That plays on a one-stringed lute ,
" We'll see the mines of copper and tin,
Of silver and coal and lead ;
We'll see the grin of the munnikin
Who sits at the Nation's head.
" So come, oh, come ! Come along with me,
And come, as quick as yon can,
If you would see an Underground)'
Who's never been seen by man."
" Indeed I will," cried Jimmieboy, with a broad smile. '' I've
often said I'd like to go underground some time and see what
there was there. (Jo ahead. I'll follow."
" Wait," observed Monkey, laying his hand gently on Jimmie-
hoy's arm to detain him — " wait till you hear what I want you
to do.
" If you would witness a wondrous sight,
A sight that is fair to see,
Just take up your flight with me to-night,
And climb up this leafy ^tree.
u It leads to the land that knows no cares,
A land that is filled with joys,
That teems with pears and humorous bears,
And millions of funny toys.
"Its streets are all paved witli precious stones,
Of sugar the houses are made,
And nobody groans with aching bone-,
And none of its flowers fade.
"The boys all do whatever they please;
The brooks are teeming «ith tish ;
There's miles of cheese and honey and peas,
And all of the jam you wish.
" So come, oh, come ! Come along with me,
And come as quick as you can,
If you would see an L-A-N-D
That's never been seen by man."
"Perfectly lovely !" cried Jimmieboy, clapping his hands with
glee, and rushing to the foot of the tree. "Give me a boost.
Monkey."
" Hold on !" yelled Buukey, grabbing Jimmieboy by his gown.
•'Hold on. You were going do\\ n the rabbit-hole with me.
Why, my dear boy, if you don't go down there with me now you
can never go, and then you'll miss seeing the foiintain-Kead of
all the maple-syrup there is in the world; you'll miss seeing
Diamond River, which is an underground stream not far down
that tlows along like water, only it's all diamonds, and the most
beautiful ones that ever were made; you'll miss meeting the
Elves of the forests, the fairies of the flower-roots — in fact, you'll
miss everything."
"I'd forgotten all about that." said Ji.mmiebov.loo.-iug his
352
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
WILLIE'S INDEPENDENCE.
I'VE a wheel that can cleave the air,
And a sleil that can fly like a shot;
So, to tell yon the truth, I do uot care
Whether it snows or uot!
VIOLINIST. "Alice, you look very sweet -this evening. What
makes your hair so curly?"
LITTLE ALICE. " I gness because you have been playing."
VIOLINIST. •• Dear child ! But what can that have to do with
it?"
LITTLE ALICE. "I heard mamma say that your playing was
enough to make anybody's hair curl."
JIMMIE WATT.
LITTLE Jimmie Watt watched the cover of a pot
Dancing up and down like a dandy;
Then he went and learned a trade,
And the first steam-engine made,
And the whole world found it very handy.
BUNKEY, MONKEY, AND JIMMIEBOY TAKE A MOONLIGHT WALK.
hold on the tree, and running to the mouth of the rabbit-hole.
"Of course I can't miss that. How do I do? Just jump right
in?"
" Yes," returned Buukey.
"NO!" roared Monkey. "If you go with him you won't see
mj' place np the tree. Mind, I tell yon. This is the only chance
ever afforded any boy to go there, and if yon say no this time
it's no forever; and I can tell you I wouldn't miss seeing a
country where tatty hangs from the trees, and doesu't cost a
cent; where soda-water, flavored any way you want it, can be
pumped right out of the ground, and where there is a free circus
going on all the time, and no school to in-
terfere with it — I wouldn't miss that for
all the world."
"Nor I," said Jimmieboy, leaving the rab-
bit-hole, and standing very much perplexed
in the middle of the road. "But I — I'd kind
of like to see Buukey's place."
"Then why don't you come?" said Buukey.
" Because I want to see Monkey's place,"
sobbed Jimmieboy.
"Oh, come along," said Buukey and Mon-
key together.
And each of the two small creatures took
hold of one of Jimmieboy's hands and tried
to get him to go his way, and so hard did
they pull that Jimmieboy thought they
would tear him in two. To save himself
from that horrible fate Jimmieboy hurled
them from him, and — well, Monkey hit a vase
on the mantel-piece, and as for Buukey, I am
sorry to say that Buukey lauded squarely on
Jimmieboy's papa's favorite eye, which made
him cry out so loudly that Jimmieboy waked
up and found that it was all a dream. That
is, it was all a dream excepting as to the bro-
keu vase on the mantel-piece and papa's eye.
I know that these two things really hap-
pened, because the vase and eye were mine.
SUPERINTENDENT (to citizen sweeping the streets in Hie hot sun-
liylit). "You'd better put on your hat, Mike; this blazing sun-
shine will affect your brain."
MIKI:. "Sure, do you think I'd be sweeping the streets if I
had any brains, sir?"
A CITY BOY'S YEARNING.
I WISH we could move right away from this flat,
Where in five little rooms we are bound,
For I'd like to be out in the country once more,
To dig a big hole in the ground.
HE WAS THE THIRD.
"HE'S your first cousin, isn't he?" said Mrs. Dimling to six-
year-old Freddy, alluding to a new baby of whom Freddy was
very fond.
" Oh no," replied Freddy. "I had two cousins before he was
born."
TOMMY'S PERPLEXITY.
I SEE the poor sheepie that stands in the rain,
Aud this is the thing I am thiukiug,
" Oh how can he get all his wool soaking wet
Aud still keep from shrinking and shrinking ?"
"MAMMA, is it true that they wear snow-
shoes in Alaska?"
" Certainly,' Teddie."
"Don't they melt when they go in the
house?"
AIN'T IT JEST BLESSED WE'VE GOT DIS UMBERILLA ?
fm
H.
_HARPE
YOUNG PEOPLE
x/
Copyright, 1895, by HARPKB & BROTHKES. All RigUta Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VUL. XVI.— NO. 804.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, MARCH 26, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A TEA It.
A GUEST OF TWO NATIONS.
BY WILLIAM DEYSDALE.
V\7HEN Harry Carpenter stood in the great telegraph
\ V office in New York talking with the manager, the
clerks at the neighboring desks hardly took the trouble
to look at him. He was only applying for a position as
operator, and there were dozens of such applicants every
day. But if they had known wlvit was soon to happen
they would have looked at him very carefully, and most
likely they would have cheered him, and carried him
about in triumph. For it is not every New York boy
who by a turn of his hand can save scores of lives, and
set a navy in motion, and put the whole world to talking,
and have the commander of a fleet take him under his
special protection. All those things Harry Carpenter
was soon to do.
Harry had heard the familiar answer that there were
a hundred applicants for every vacant position, and he
was about to retire, disappointed, when somehow it came
out that he could speak Spanish. That put a new face
upon the matter at once, for the manager had been re-
quested to send a Spanish-speaking operator to Cuba, to
assist in the office of a friendly line at Santiago de Cuba.
Harry was willing to go, and as he readily satisfied the
manager of his ability, the arrangement was soon made.
There are some Americans alive to-day, and some Eng-
lishmen too, who owe their lives to that appointment.
Harry was at this time a little past sixteen years old,
with the necessity for work before him, and no capital
but his public-school education and his knowledge of tel-
egraphy.
The Spanish ways of Cuba seemed strange to him at
first; but there was plenty of work for him in the office,
and he hardly had time even to enjoy the beautiful seen-
354
HAKPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVJ.
ery. It was not only the land wires of the island that he
had to work upon, but the cable running over to Jamaica,
and the other cable to Spain ; and cable work was new to
him. Nearly every day there was something exciting,
for Cuba was in a very unsettled state, and a large part
of the business was sending official messages, often in ci-
pher. But the beginning of the real excitement came
when Harry had been on the island about six weeks.
That was the day when a Spanish officer, with two sol-
diers, marched into the office and announced that all work
must stop.
"The line is seized by the government, gentlemen,"
the officer said. " No despatches whatever are to be sent
out until further orders."
As all business in the office was suspended Harry had
nothing to do, and he walked out with another young op-
erator and found the streets full of soldiers. Civilians
were gathered in groups trying to discuss a situation that
nobody understood.
"What is it? What does it all mean?" he asked a
dozen times, but no one could answer. Never before had
he seen such crowds of people in the streets of old Santi-
ago, and everybody was asking the same questions, and
no one was answering.
Late in the afternoon the boom of a big gun from the
Castle showed that a war-ship had arrived in the harbor.
Harry followed the crowds down to the water front,
and there he saw a sight that made him wonder more
than ever.
For there, not far from the wharf, lay a big Spanish
iron-clad, and close by the iron-clad a small merchant
steamer flying the American flag. The smaller steamer
was so riddled with shots and so torn in the rigging that
it was only too plain she had been fired upon and cap-
tured.
Before long preparations were begun for bringing peo-
ple ashore from the merchant vessel, which had swung
around so that Harry could read the name upon her
stern. She was called the Virginius. Troops marched
down and cleared the streets and the wharves, and people
from the ship were brought ashore in lighters. Harry
had been hustled back by the soldiers, but he was still
near enough to see that some of the men landed were
Americans, and that a number of them looked astonish-
ingly like New-Yorkers. They were all handcuffed, and
slowly they were marched from the wharf up to the
gloomy old city prison, where they disappeared behind
the big gates. There must have been sixty or seventy of
tli em, Harry thought.
When he returned to the office that evening Harry
found two of the soldiers still in charge, and no work to
be done. But the secret of the seizure was out.
"No work for a week, Harry!" his companion of the
afternoon told him. " Not a single message to be han-
dled for a week! That's a filibuster, that Virginius they
captured, loaded with arms, and manned by Englishmen
and Americans and Cubans who were coming here to
raise a revolution. The Governor is going to shoot ten
of them every morning at sunrise till they're all gone,
and not a despatch is to be sent out till they're all fin-
ished. He's not going to have anybody come here and
interfere with him."
"What!" Harry exclaimed, "going to shoot them!
Without any trial, to shoot a lot of Englishmen and
Americans ! Why, he'll get himself into a terrible scrape.
What will the English and American consuls have to
say?"
"Oh, they've said all they could," his companion an-
swered. "They've protested, and that's all they can do,
because they cau't get a message through this office for
love or money. At sunrise to-morrow morning you'll
see the first ten shot, if you're down by the slaughter-
house wall. That's where they're going to kill them."
It made Harry feel sick at heart to hear that his coun-
trymen were to be butchered in this way without even a
trial. Somehow he seemed to have a personal responsi-
bility in the matter, because he knew how to use the tel-
fgr.-i|ph wires. But he was a solitary boy without friends,
and what could he do against the great Spanish nation.
Next morning there was more excitement in the streets
than ever. When Harry went out the people were all
discussing it. They had been down at the slaughter-
house, thousands of them, and had seen the first ten un-
fortunate men — Americans and Englishmen, and men of
other nations — stood up against the wall and shot to
death.
There was no work to be done that morning, but Harry
remained in the office with the soldiers, for he disliked
to go out and hear people talk about the shooting. The
' officer was gone, and only the two privates were on
guard. Several other operators were about, but each
had affairs of his own to interest him. It was about
eleven o'clock in the morning when there came a com-
motion in the street, just outside the office windows. A
regiment of soldiers were inarching past. It was the
regiment the two guards belonged to, and one of them
went outside the door, while the other pressed up close
to the window. The operators crowded to the windows,
too, and for a moment the instruments were left un-
guarded.
It was just for a moment, but Harry Carpenter seized
the opportunity. Standing with his back to the oper-
ating-table, and apparently giving all his attention to the
crowd outside, he reached one hand behind him and felt
for the key of the Jamaica cable.
" Kst., Kst.," flashed under the Caribbean Sea, that be-
ing the call for Kingston, Jamaica. But Harry's eyes
were fixed upon the window. Apparently he was ab-
sorbed in watching the soldiers, and the noise of their
marching drowned the little sound of his key.
The signal made a sensation in the Kingston office.
For nearly twenty-four hours the operator had been try-
ing to call up Santiago, but Santiago would not respond.
He did not know that Spanish soldiers had prevented
Santiago from answering. Instantly he took the key
and flashed back the reply familiar to all operators,
"Ay — ay, ay — ay."
Still, with all his attention fixed upon the .soldiers,
leaning carelessly back against the table, and yet watch-
ing the guard inside, for he knew that to be caught at
this meant a bullet for him, Harry ticked off his little
message to Jamaica :
"Terrible times here," the message said. "They're
murdering Englishmen, Americans, and men of all na-
tions."
That was all; and the sending it took only a moment
or two. When it was done and the key clicked, Harry
was still leaning against the table, still watching the sol-
diers as they marched past.
Before the last company of soldiers had passed the
Santiago telegraph office, the operator in Kingston, Ja-
maica, was pondering over the sheet of paper lying be-
fore him, upon which he had just written the few words
received :
"Terrible times here. They're murdering English-
men, Americans, and men of all nations."
Beside him was the key of the private wire leading to
the Governor's house, and almost in the same breath
Harry Carpenter's despatch was on its way to the British
Governor of Jamaica.
It is doubtful whether Harry would have enjoyed his
late Cuban breakfast that morning if he had known that
while he was eating it the Governor of Jamaica was pre-
paring to send his message five thousand miles under the
sea to the British Admiralty.
The last cup of coffee would certainly have clicked
MARCH 26,1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
355
him if he had known while drinking it that at that mo-
ment the Lords of the Admiralty in London had their
powerful heads together over his despatch, and had con-
cluded that it was of importance, and were preparing
this important cablegram to be flashed under the ocean to
Jamaica :
"• Knoalton, Admiralty, etc., Port Royal:
" You will immediately despatch the Destruction and
Dauntless to Santiago de Cuba, under full steam, to give
any protection that may be needed by the British and
other foreign residents of that city.
" By order of the Admiralty,
" GOWER, Naval Secretary."
It was a hard and uncomfortable bed that Harry slept
on that night. Toward morning he sprang out of bed at
a bound. He had heard the voice of some powerful can-
non speaking its deep yet sharp " Boom !''
It was not the sound of the saluting gun in the Castle,
•either; he had learned to know that sound. This was
much deeper, much sharper. He hardly had his wits
collected before the Castle, gun answered with a much
feebler " Boom!"
The only explanation of the two shots was that a war-
ship had arrived.
It happened so quickly that Harry had no time to think
about it. He caught up a handful of clothes, and was
trying to dress himself in the dark, when both sounds
were repeated — a deep, sharp report, and then the feeble
answer from the Castle. This meant that two war-ships
had arrived !
"Two British men-of-war coming in!" he heard some
one say in Spanish before he reached the wharf.
"Now our Governor will catch it!" somebody else said.
" I knew he could not shoot foreigners that way without
getting into trouble. I wonder whether they'll shell the
city?"
Meanwhile the two British war-ships were moving up
the harbor.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, under his breath, " it is just sun-
rise ! But surely they'll never dare to shoot another lot
of prisoners this morning, with these British war-ships in
the harbor!"
The answer came within a second. It was a rattle of
musketry up at the slaughter-house, and a shout from the
people. Ten more Americans and Englishmen had been
shot.
Instantly there was a commotion among the officers of
the Destruction.
"Oh-h-h!" It was not a shout from the people, it was
more like a suppressed groan. For the Spanish soldiers
had driven the British officers back with their bayonets,
and refused to let them land. The people were growing
violently excited. They realized the madness of this act,
and knew that it might endanger the city, and even their
lives. What would be left of them if those British ships
should avenge the insult? However, the moan changed
to a shout the next moment.
' ' Hurrah ! hurrah ! See ! The Consuls, the Consuls !"
The crowd cheered with all the power of their lungs.
Harry looked out upon the water, where everybody
was looking, and saw a beautiful launch steaming rapidly
toward the Destruction. His heart seemed to be in his
throat when he saw the colors the launch carried; for
there at the stern floated the flags of England and of the
United States side by side. The Consuls of the two great
nations were in that boat, going out to ask the vessels to
protect their countrymen.
There was a long interval of quiet then, and Harry
determined to walk up to the telegraph, office. It was a
pity that he started away just when he did, for if he had
waited a few minutes longer he would have seen another
boat come ashore from the Destruction, and have seen
the officer in her stern hand a large letter to the com-
mander of the soldiers, and then return to the ship. This
letter was addressed to the Governor, and it was well
that the excited people did not know what it contained.
This was what it said :
"7b the Governor, etc., Santiago de Cuba:
"SlR, — I have the honor to inform you that at twelve
o'clock noon this clay I shall open fire upon the city of
Santiago with her Britannic Majesty's ships Destruction
and Dauntless, unless before that time I receive satis-
factory assurance that no more British or other foreign
subjects shall be shot without due process of law.
" I am, etc., HUNTER,
" Senior Officer Commanding British Squadron
in Santiago Harbor."
Soon after the delivery of this letter there was plenty
of work for Harry to do. Messages began to fly between
Santiago and Havana — official messages between the
Governor and his superior, the Governor - General in
Havana. But they were all in cipher, and, of course, he
knew nothing of what they contained. The work was a
relief to his mind, however, and he was beginning to feel
almost at ease, when at about eleven o'clock a young
stranger in citizen's dress stepped into the office and look-
ed sharply into the faces of all the operators. Going up
to Harry, after a scrutinizing look, he said to him,
" Can I see you outside for a moment?"
" Certainly, "Harry replied; and tiiey walked out into
the street together.
"Are you an Englishman?" the stranger asked, when
they were well away from the office.
"No, sir; I am an American," Harry replied.
"Is there any other Englishman or American employ-
ed in the office?" was the next question.
" No," Harry replied; " I am the only one."
".Then," the stranger said — and he put his head close to
Harry's and spoke in a low tone — " then you are the man
who sent the news of the massacre over to Jamaica?"
Harry stopped and looked closely at his companion,
doubtful whether it would be safe to make the admission.
But the man was neither Spaniard nor Cuban, and as he
spoke English, he must be a friend. "Yes, "he replied;
" I sent the message to Jamaica."
"I thought so," the other said; "it was a good day's
work, too, though it was a big risk for you. I am from
the Destruction, and the Captain sent me to bring you on
board."
" Bring me on board!" Harry exclaimed. "Why, if I
go there, they will know who sent the message, and they'll
murder me when I come back."
"They will murder you if you stay here," the man re-
plied. "I think that is the reason the Captain wants you
on board."
It was soon settled that Harry should visit the Destruc-
tion; and after he had obtained leave of absence from the
office and started for the wharf with his new friend, the
startling news came to him of the threat to bombard the
city. The news was public property now; it had leaked
out in some way, and every one knew of it, and the peo-
ple in the streets were more excited than ever.
When he was received by Captain Hunter on board the
Destruction, that gentleman relieved his mind by telling
him that all danger of his bombarding the city was past :
that the Governor had backed completely down— had been
suspended, in fact, by the Governor-General in Havnnn.
who disavowed all the Governor's acts, and apologized
for them, and promised to make such restitution as he
could. The remaining prisoners, he said, would be prop-
erly tried, and all but the ringleaders would doubtless cs
cape.
356
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"I am sorry you are not an Englishman," the Captain
added, "for if you were, you would get a Victoria Cross
for what you have done. But you have rendered us a
great service, and you must be the guest of my nation
on board the Destruction till I can laud you in Jamaica,
for you are not safe here."
But Harry was not destined to remain long the guest
of the British nation on board the Destruction, because a
few hours later the United States Avar-ship Monongahela
steamed into the harbor, hastily ordered over from Key
West on receipt of the news from London. The Monon-
gahela's Captain, when he heard the story, insisted upon
taking him under the protection of the Stars and Stripes
on his own vessel; and so the young operator became the
guest of two great nations in one clay. When the Monon-
gahela was soon afterward ordered to the Brooklyn Navy-
yard, Harry was her only passenger.
On the voyage home the Captain advised him not to go
back to the great telegraph-office until he himself had seen
the manager. And the Captain's talk with the manager
must have been a convincing one, for when Harry enter-
ed the big office again he was received as a young hero
should be, and among all the positions vacant he was
given his choice.
The official thanks of the two nations, and the more
substantial rewards — those things came afterwards.
THE LIGHT-HOUSE AND THE MAEINER.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
FOR three days and nights the heavens had been over-
cast. From horizon to horizon a pall of cold gray
clouds hung over the angry ocean. In the midst of
all this turmoil a big iron ship went staggering over the
wild mountains and thundering down into the hollows,
where she buried her lean and dripping prow in dazzling
caldrons of seething foam. Her master and her mate
stood by the starboard mizzen rigging, on which each
had a firm grip.
" Silsbee," said the Captain, "I'd give a pocketful of
money to be sure of our position."
"So would I, sir," responded the mate, "but it's too
much to expect after three days of dead reckoning."
"One thing I'm sure of," said the Captain, "there's
land near us, for the sea is much easier than it was last
night. But what land? I'm almost tempted to heave
to."
"Land ho!" came the hoarse cry from forward.
"Where away?" shouted the Captain.
" Broad off the weather bow, sir."
" I see it. Silsbee, get the bearing of that light, quick!"
On the starboard bow the Captain saw a bluff about one
hundred and fifty feet high. At its summit was a red
brick house with stone trimmings. The house had a
large octagonal tower, and about one hundred feet away
stood a smaller detached building.
"Block Island southeast light-house," exclaimed the
Captain, with an air of relief. "How does it bear, Sils-
bee?"
" West-nor'west, sir."
"Bring her up two points, and hold that till we get it
abeam, "said the Captain. It was evidently his intention
to fix the ship's position by the "bow and beam" bear-
ing. The ship was now at her first position, heading
nearly west-sou'west, and the light was just four points
off her bow. The Captain knew that when it was ex-
actly abeam, the distance of the light from the ship would
be precisely equal to the distance run between the two
bearings. In twenty minutes the light was abeam, and
the log showed that the ship had made four and two-
third miles. The light was, therefore, that far away,
bearing nor'-nor'west, and hence the exact position of the
"LIGHT HO!"
ship at the second bearing was four and two-third miles
south-southeast of Block Island light.
"Keep her as she is," said the Captain, "till we get a
good olfing. Then lay the course west-sou'west a half
west. That'll about fetch Sandy Hook lightship on the
lee bow, allowing for what leeway we'll make. I'm go-
ing below and take a nap."
So the faithful light-house told the mariner where he
was even in the daytime.
A graceful steel schooner -yacht was gliding swiftly
over the undulating sea toward New York. Her cap-
tain had met with an accident, and was lying in his
bunk. One of the owner's guests, a young man who had
not thought of the subject of navigation since he left An-
napolis five years previously, had been put in command.
"When shall we sight Fire Island light?" asked the
owner.
"According to my calculations," answered the navi-
gator, "at nine o'clock."
At 8.30 a man was sent aloft to look for the light. The
hour of nine arrived and no light was reported. The
young navigator was alarmed. He did not know where
the yacht was. Minutes passed by and seemed like hours.
At 9.07 the lookout cried:
"Light ho!"
"Where away?" called the navigator, joyfully.
"Two points off the lee bow, sir," was the answer.
A few minutes later the navigator said to the owner,
" At 9.07 the yacht was twenty-five and a half miles east-
southeast of Fire Island light."
" How do you know the distance?"
"According to the light-house list Fire Island is visi-
ble nineteen and a quarter miles in clear weather to an
observer whose eye is fifteen feet above the level of the
sea. Your foretop is fifty feet above it, so I had to add
the distance visible for the other thirty-five feet."
" How do yoi» get at that?"
" From the table in Bowditch's Navigation, or by ap-
plying the rule that the distance of an object seen at sea
MARCH 20, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
357
is equal to the square root
of the height of the eye mul-
tiplied by 1.0(5."
"Well, I declare! What
a lot of tricks there are in
managing a ship! But
how do you know you
haven't sighted some other
light than Fire Island?'1
"Well, I know the light
by its character. There are
only three lights on the
south shore of Long Island
— Monlauk Point, Shinne-
cock, and Fire Island. If
they were all alike it would
be easy enough for a ship a
few miles out of her reckon-
ing to mistake one for the
other. But Montauk Point
light is fixed white, varied
by a white flash every two
minutes; Shinnecock is
fixed white; and E'ire Island
is a white flash light, flash-
ing once every minute."
With these valuable facts
in his head, the young navi-
gator from Annapolis, hav-
ing fixed the position of the
yacht, steers boldly for San-
dy Hook lightship.
At nine o'clock that same evening, just when the young
navigator of the yacht was troubled because he did not
see Fire Island light, a man-of-war was making her way
into New York. All around the shores glittered lights
of various kinds, but there were some which the experi-
enced eye of her navigator knew were beacon lights. The
first -which he had seen as the vessel came rushing in
from the ocean were two powerful white lights which he
recognized as the Highland Lights. The man-of-war
had come all the way from the Pacific, and her navi-
gator, whose service had been wholly in that ocean and
FIXING THE SHIP'S POSITION BY THE "BOW AND BEAM" BEARING.
on the China station, had never before taken a vessel into
New York Bay. But as he stood on the bridge and stud-
ied the chart, he said to the Captain:
"It's pretty plain sailing, sir, to go into a harbor
lighted like this one on a clear night. Yonder are the
Highland Lights, and the fonetop has sighted two red
lights dead ahead, and they're on the Sandy Hook light-
ship. We've got to get a little more northing to enter
the Gedney Channel."
Some time later the ship was entering the Gedney
Channel. Away over on the New Jersey mainland, di-
rectly ahead of her, at
the place marked A, stood
two lights, one close to
the water and one some
distance inland.
"Those are the main
channel range lights,"
said the navigator. " The
one in front is Point Com-
fort Beacon, and the one
in the rear is Waackaack
Beacon. • By keeping
them exactly in range
over the bow of the ship
we go through the main
channel all right. Now
we come to the place
where Sandy Hook light
and the South Beacon,
at B, come in range, and
so we change our course
so as to keep them in
range over the stern. We
hold that course till we
reach the point where
the Conover and Chapel
Hill Beacons, at C, come
in range, and then we
change our course so as
to keep them in range
ENTERING NEW YORK HARBOR AT NIGHT.
A. Ft. Comfort and Waackaack Lishts ; B. Sandy Hook and South Beacon Lights ; Conover and Chapel Hill Lights unseen.
358
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
over the stern. Now, sir, we have rounded the point of
the shoal known as the Southwest Spit, aud are head-
ing for the Narrows."
"Very good," said the Captain; "I see you know
where you are."
But what have we learned from the experiences nar-
rated? We have learned that a light-house is not always
intended to mark a hidden danger and so warn the sailor
against running upon it. Many light-houses are erected
for that purpose; but all light-houses, no matter where
.they stand, have one general ohject, and that is to act as
guides to the sailor.
AUNT SELINA'S MISTAKE.-
BY FLORENCE HALLOWELL IIOYT.
CHAPTER I.
T1HE bright May sunshine pouring in one morning at
the open windows of a bedroom, on the second floor
of a big white frame house oil the outskirts of a village
in eastern Tennessee, fell full upon the yellow head of
a little girl who sat on the floor with an old-fashioned
jewel-box in her lap. Her round healthy face wore an
expression of great pleasure, for, like most little girls of
her age, Llda Ann Darrow liked finery of any kind.
"This is mine — my very, very own," she said, as she
slipped on the third finger of her left hand a ring set
with an opal and seven small diamonds.
" Yes, that's yours," acquiesced her grandmother,
glancing up from her knitting; " 'n' if you behave your-
self you'll have it when you're turned eighteen."
Lida Ann sighed as she dropped the ring back into the
little space reserved for it in the tray of the jewel-box.
She wished she were eighteen now. How she would en-
joy showing the ring to all her girl friends in the village!
She liked to look over the contents of that jewel-box.
She knew the history of every article in it, from the little
gold thimble which had been her mother's when a child
to the heavy open-faced watch which had belonged to
her grandfather French.
"I believe Silas Sparrow's brought that child," said
old Mrs. French, looking out of the window by which
she was sitting. She laid her knitting on the table.
"I'm goin' right down," she added.
A little frown puckered Lida Ann's brow. She closed
the cover of the old box with a snap.
"I don't see why you wanted to send for her, grand-
ma," she said, crossly.
" Oh, you mustn't be selfish. It '11 be good for you to
have another little girl around," answered Mrs. French,
as she" left the room.
Lida Ann followed slowly, after carefully returning
the jewel-box to its accustomed place in the top drawer
of the bureau.
When she reached the head of the stairway she looked
down into the hall below and saw her grandmother, Aunt
Selina, and a stout man with a red beard standing
around a little girl of about nine years of age. Dinah, a
fat old colored woman, who was their only servant, was
looking in at the back door, her hands on her hips.
The child was a wild-looking little creature, with a
tangled mass of dark curls and very black eyes. She
wore a faded blue gingham, her feet were bare, and in
one hand she swung a calico sun-bonnet. Her mouth
was shut tight, and she stared from one to the other of
those about her with a defiant expression on her small
pinched face.
"Oh dear! I didn't know she'd be like this," said
Grandma French.
" It's just what / expected — exactly," said Aunt Selina.
"Well, ye ain't ableeged ter take her, ye know,''
drawled Silas Sparrow. " Ther' ain't no law 'gainst
backin' out, as I knows on. I c'n tek her right along ter
Dug Marsh's place."
"But there ain't any children at the poor-house, 'n' I
know Mrs. Marsh won't like bavin' her," said Mrs.
French. " I don't know what to do!"
"You know I said you'd better think twice before of-
ferin'," observed Miss Selina. "But that's just you all
over, mother. You're too kind-hearted for your own
good."
"She 'ain't bed no care since her mam died," said
Silas, his eyes bent critically on the little waif. "She's
jest laid around 'most anywheres. 'Tain't any wonder
she's sorter peaked lookinV
" Oh, grandma, don't keep her," whispered Lida Ann,
who had slipped down the stairs and was standing just
behind her grandmother. " We don't want her here."
"An' I don't aim ter stay hyah, neither," broke out
the little girl, flashing a fierce look at Lida Ann through
a glittering rnist of tears. "An' I ain't goin' ter no poor-
house. I knows my way back ter our place. I ain't
skeered o' 110 woods; thar ain't nothin' goin' ter tech
me."
Those glittering tears in the large black eyes, and the
thought that the child might indeed make her way back
to the desolate mountain cabin, where her mother had
died, proved too much for Mrs. French's tender heart.
"You poor little soul!" she said; "I'm goin' to keep
you, no matter ivho's against it. I don't reckon you'll
make me sorry for it. Lida, quit pullin' at my dress;
you ain't to say another word."
"Who's to wash her, V comb out that mop?" asked
Miss Selina.
"I reckon I c'n do it," answered her mother. "The
washiii' '11 come easy, 'n' I uster be a master hand at curlin*
my own hair when I was a girl. Don't you worry, Se-
lina."
" Well, I'll be goin', then, I reckon," said Silas. " Lem-
me know ef you cyant get erlong with her. She looks
mighty spirited for such a little thing."
Mrs. French took the little girl by the hand, and led
her up stairs. The child made no resistance. She did
not utter a word, but stared about her with curious eyes.
All her life hitherto had been spent in that mountain
cabin, the nearest neighbor half a mile away.
" I reckon you 'ain't never been in many houses like
this one," said Grandma French, noticing how the child
stared at everything.
"I 'ain't never sawn one like this afore," answered the
little girl. "It's sho'ly fine. But I don't aim ter stay
hyah. I aims ter go back. I ain't goin' ter stay whar I
ain't wanted."
" Well, you are wanted," rejoined Mrs. French. "If
I hadn't wanted you I wouldn't have kept you."
"That little gal down thar en thet tall ooman they
don't want me. I heard all they was sayin'. I ain't no-
ways deef."
"They'll soon learn to like you if you behave your-
self," observed the old lady, soothingly.
"I ain't goin' ter do all the behavin'. Ef they sasses
me I'm boun' ter sass back."
"Oh, my! that ain't no way for a little girl to talk.
What's your name ?"
" Becky — same's my mammy."
" Well, Rebecca, now see how pretty you'll look when
I get you dressed up. The folks down-stairs won't know
you."
The child did not smile or seem pleased, but she sub-
mitted without opposition to the bath bestowed upon her,
and didn't flinch when the tangles were combed out of her
hair.
When she was dressed in some clothes which Lida Ann
had outgrown, Mrs.* French felt well satisfied with her
work, and led the little creature into the spare chamber.
MARCII-26, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
359
where, between the two windows, a long mirror readied
almost from the floor to the ceiling.
" I wonder if you know that nice-lookin' little girl in
there?"' asked the old lady.
A faint smile brightened for an instant the small
tragic face. " I wisht mammy — " she began, then stopped
suddenly, her lips quivering. The next moment she was
lying- on the floor, her face buried in her arms, her slen-
der little figure convulsed with grief. "Oh, mammy!
mammy!" she sobbed. " I wants yer, mammy! Cyarit
ye coniK back? I don' wanter stay with these hyah folks,
noway."
Mrs. French tried to comfort her, but in vain. She
sobbed on unrestrainedly. In despair at last the old
lad}' went down stairs to seek help. She found Lida Ann
perched upon a window-seat in the kitchen shelling pease.
Miss Selina was rolling out pie-crust, and old Dinah was
ironing a ruffled white petticoat.
"Oh, grandma," cried Lida Ann, " Dinah says there's
no dependin' on black-eyed folks; 'n' she knew of one
once who threw a knife at Grandma Darrow. I do wish
you wouldn't keep that girl."
" It's too late now to talk about not keepin' her," re-
joined Mrs. French. "An' I wish Dinah 'd quit tellin'
you foolish yarns. There ain't a mite of harm in that
child upstairs, if she's managed the right way. I want
you to go up 'n' see if you can't cheer her up a little,
Lidy Ann. She's cryiii' herself 'most sick. I c'n shell
them pease."
" I don't know how to cheer her," said Lida Ann, pout-
ing and hitching up her shoulders.
"Oh, you c'n fin' a way, if you wanter. Show her
your doll babies 'u' thet little music-box your cousin Na-
than sent you."
Lida Ann left the room slowly, dragging her feet, and
closing the door behind her with more force than was
necessary.
"Lidy Ann doan' want no chile a-tekin' her place,"
said old Dinah. " Dar's gwinter be trouble in dis house
now, sho's yo' bawn."
" Lidy Ann's had her own way too long," said Mrs.
French, shelling the peas into a pan on the table. " She's
got right down selfish. An' you hadn't any business
tellin' 'bout Miss Wiu'fred throwin' that knife, Dinah.
There wasn't any use in it."
'' I didn't call no names," answered Dinah, as she shook
out the petticoat and hung it on the clothes-horse by the
stove. " I reckon I's got some fambly pride ef I is on'y
a brack —
"Oh, hush up, Dinah!" interrupted Miss Selina. "I
can't hear myself think."
When all the pease were shelled, Mrs. French went up-
stairs and cautiously opened the door of her bedroom.
On the floor sat Lida Ann, with the old jewel-box in her
lap, and at a little distance stood Becky, leaning against
an ancient chest of drawers. Her eyes were swollen
with weeping, and she was looking steadily at the pattern
of the carpet at her feet.
" I've tried everything," complained Lida Ann. " But
she won't even look at my diamond ring. She says she
wants to go away, grandma, 'n' I do wish you'd let her
go. I don't like her, 'n' she don't like me."
"Yer just right tliar," flashed out Becky. "I hates
yer. I'd like ter claw them two long yaller braids o'
yourn off'n yer head."
" Rebecca! Rebecca!" cried Mrs. French, much shocked.
" I can't have you talk that way at all. And, Lida Ann,
you've got to act different. Rebecca's goin' to be your
little sister, 'n' you must love each other and act pleasant."
" I don't want a little sister who says she 'ain't never
sawn diamonds," cried Lida Ann, angrily. " An' she
don't know her a b abs yet, either. Aunt Seliua said she
was a heathen. V she is, too."
"Oh, yer so proud 'cause ye've got thet di'mund ring,"
retorted Becky, with a furious look.
Grandma French sighed. " I reckon I'm goiu' to
have a time with you two," she said. "Lidy Ann, you
put up that box, 'n' go down stairs 'n' finish hemmin' that
dish towel I gave you this mornin'. Rebecca, you come
here, child, I want to talk to you."
CHAPTER II.
MRS. FRENCH'S expectations of having a "time" with
Lida Ann and the poor wild little creature from the
mountain were fully realized. The two little girls quar-
relled from morning to night; they even fought, and
Lida Ann would probably have lost one of her long yel-
low braids under a clip from a pair of shears Becky seized
one day. had not Miss Selina rushed upon the scene and
dragged the combatants apart.
" Dem gals is sho'ly gwinter kill one n udder someday
'less yo'-alls looks out pow'ful sharp," remarked old
Dinah. " Dey's got p'isen spite in deir hearts, sho's yo's
bawn."
Grandma French was greatly distressed. " I don't see
what's to be done," she said, with a sigh which seemed
to come from the very bottom of her kind old heart.
" I have talked to Lida Ann 'n' I've talked to Rebecca.
But it 'ain't done a spec' o' good far's I c'n see."
" There's only one thing you can do," said Miss Selina.
" Send that little heathen to Dug Marsh's. Dug 'n' Mis'
Marsh '11 know how to break her in. They don't let any
o' the paupers get ahead o' them."
Mrs. French shook her head. "No, no," she rejoined.
"I couldn't send her there. Poor little soul! She's so
pretty."
"Pretty!" Miss Selina threw up her chin and sniffed
with indignation. "Mother, there's times when you rile
me clear through."
" I wonder how it 'd do to part her 'n' Lidy Ann for
a while?" said Mrs. French. "It'd give us a chance to
think things over, anyway. What do you say to send in'
Lidy Ann to her Grandma Darrow for a few days? They'd
be mighty pleased to have her, 'n' she could take her
grandpap's watch to her cousin Nathan. I promised him
last time he was here that I'd turn it over to him when
he was turned twenty-one, 'n' his birthday's next week."
"Well, "said Miss Selina, "I reckon 'twouldn't do no
harm to let her go. She 'ain't been over there in some
time."
At this moment the kitchen door opened and Lida Ann
appeared, flushed and angry. "I can't find my blue
hair ribbon anywhere," she cried. "I b'lieve Becky's
stole it. I've seen her lookin' at it time 'n.' again like
she wanted it, an' now it's gone."
"Hush, now, Lidy Ann, don't you say another word,"
said her aunt. " Your hair ribbon's in the dresser draw-
er. I picked it up out in the barn when I was hunliu'
eggs this mornin'."
Lida Ann looked crestfallen. " Well, she'd like to
steal it," she muttered.
"Hush! hush! Ain't you ashamed of yourself, Lida
Ann?" Her grandmother's tone was severe. "That's
an ugly way for a little girl to talk."
Lida Ann's face assumed at once its most sullen ex-
pression, but she speedily forgot her vexation when told
that she was to go on a visit to her grandmother Darrow.
"You go up stairs 'n' get together what things you
want to take," directed her aunt, " 'n' Tobias c'n hitch up
'n' carry you over the first thing after breakfast to-mor-
row morniu', and Friday we'll sen' for you."
And so the next mornin' Lida Ann departed, dressed
in her best white frock, and carrying the old open-faced
watch as a birthday gift for her cousin Nathan.
Becky felt singularly happy as she ran back to the
house after closing the gate. She resolved to let Grandma
LHJN'T AIM TER STAY HYAH, NEITHER, " BROKE OUT THE LITTLE GIKL.
French see what a good girl she could be now Lida
Ann wasn't there to sneer at her and call her names.
She was met at the kitchen door by Miss Selina, who had
a pair of shears in one hand and an old sheet in the other.
Her face wore its most determined and rigid expression.
"You come into the shed-room, Rebecca," she said.
"I'm goin' to do something IVe 'lowed to do ever since
you come here."
" Cut off my hair?"
"Yes; there ain't no sense in your havin' no such
mop. It's combin' 'n' curlin' from mornin' to night, 'n'
then you ain't half-way tidy."
Becky put up both hands and clasped them over her
cloud of curly hair.
"You sha'n't touch hit,'' she said. "You dassen't put
them shears noways near me. I ain't goin' ter hev no-
body cut my hair off. ' My mammy— She stopped
suddenly, and swallowed a big lump in her throat. The
tears had sprung' to her black eyes, as was always the
case when she spoke of her dead mother.
"We'll soon see if I'll touch it or not," rejoined Miss
Selina. " I ain't got so's to be bossed by no little girl I
ever seen yet. Mother's too old to be pestered takiu'
care o' your hair; it wears her all out. You march into
that shed-room now, and be quick about it. I ain't goin'
to stand no foolishness."
Becky stared at her a moment, then dropped her hands
suddenly, and walked slowly into the "shed -room."
Miss Selina lifted her upon an old stool by the window,
rather surprised at her quick obedience. She had fully
expected a struggle, and was puzzled when Becky sat
perfectly still under the shearing. One by one the
dusky curls fell to the floor, and the little girl uttered
no word of remonstrance or reproach.
" There ! I'm done," said Miss Selina at last.
Becky shook her little shorn head, and darted out like
a little swallow. When Miss Selina, after shaking out
the sheet and folding it, left the shed, the child was no-
where to be seen. Somehow Miss Selina felt a little un-
comfortable. She wondered if it wouldn't have been
belter if she had consulted her mother before cutting off
Becky's curls. There was no telling what the child
might do in her rage. Burn the house down, perhaps,
or wring the necks of all the chickens.
" We'll have to watch her pretty close for a few days,"
she decided. "I'm glad I didn't cut her curls off 'fore
Lidy Ann left. She might o' taken her spite out on Lidy
Ann some way."
Just before noon old Mrs. French came into the kitch-
en looking pale and distressed.
"Selina, I'm worried 'most sick," she said. "I s'pose
I've got to tell you. It's 'bout Lida Ann's di'mund ring.
It's gone. I've looked high '11' low, an' it's gone."
"Gone out your jewel-box?"
" Yes. It was there when I went to get out the watch.
I remember seem' it."
" 'Ain't you been sittin' in your room all the mornin'?"
"No; I was up in the attic 'most 'n hoursortin' over the
things in the red chest."
"You was? Then I know what come o' Lidy Ann's
di'mond ring. That Becky took it. She's took it because
I cut off her hair. I made sure she would get even."
" You cut off her hair?"
"Yes, I did. It was all foolishness lettin' her wear
such a mop, 'n' you havin' to fuss 'n' worry with it all
the time. And that's why she's stole Lidy Ann's di'moud
ring."
A sound, something between a gasp and a strangled
cry, made both women turn toward the open doorway.
There stood Becky, her little shorn head held high, her
black eyes flashing, her face pallid with sudden rage.
''Hit's a lie!" she cried, shrilly, quivering from head
to foot. "I never teched Lidy Ann's di'mund ring.
Yo're meaner 'n dirt to say so. I 'ain't teched hit. I
'ain't never sawn hit sense the first day I come hyah."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
A Sequel to "The Fur-Seal's Tooth."
BY KIRK M U N R O E,
AUTHOR OF " DORYMATES," " CAMPMATES," " RAFTMATES," " CANOEMATES," ETC.
CHAPTER VII.
THE "CHIMO" GOES INTO WINTER QUARTERS.
WHILE Phil watched the departing missionary, who
was making his way cautiously over the newly
formed ice, the late-rising sun appeared above the south-
eastern horizon, gilding a cross surmounting the tower
of a little log church pleasantly located on a high bluff.
Back of it rose the dark green wall of a spruce forest,
while about it were clustered a number of low but very
substantial and comfortable-looking log houses. Near the
beach at the foot of the bluff stood an Indian village of
huts whose roofs bristled with poles. In each one was
left a square hole for the egress of smoke from the open
fire built on an earthen floor beneath.
Scattered about in picturesque but hopeless confusion
were long ranges of pole frames for drying fish, many
little log houses mounted on stilts and looking like dove-
cotes, the use of which Phil could not imagine, fish-traps,
boats, sledges, and everywhere dozens of yelping, prowl-
ing, fighting, or sleeping dogs. Besides these things Phil
could see what appeared to be the black chimney-stack
of some kind of a mill.
Suddenly a flag was
run to the top of a tall
pole on top of the bluff,
and as the Stare and
Stripes streamed out
bravely in the cold
wind a rattling volley
of musketry rang forth
its loud note of welcome
from the Indian village.
To this Phil responded
by a vigorous salute
from the Chimo's whis-
tle. Then, so utterly
weary from overwork,
excitement, and loss of
sleep that merely to
move required a strong
effort of will, he left
the pilot-house and
went below. He found
Serge at the Captain's
bedside administering a
bowl of broth, and tell-
ing the sick man of the
events of the night.
As Phil entered, Ger-
ald Hamer's eyes rested
on him with such an
expression of gratitude
as the former will never
forget. "I thank you
two boys," he said,
weakly, " more than I
can ever tell. To you
I owe not only my life,
but whatever it holds
of value, and — Here
his voice failed him, and
Serge bade him not to
attempt another word.
"No, indeed," added
Phil, "for you don't
owe us one cent's worth
of thanks, Mr. Hamer. To the end of our lives we shall
always be in your debt, and in bringing you up the
river to this point we have used your boat to bring our-
selves as well. So — well, that's all there is to it, anyway ;
and now if you will only hurry up and get well we shall
appreciate that more than all the thanks in the world."
Then Serge left, and Phil, slipping into his vacated
chair, almost instantly fell into a sleep so profound that
it is doubtful if a boiler explosion or an earthquake could
have aroused him.
An hour or so later he was in the midst of a very per-
plexing dream, in which he seemed to be recovering from
an illness, and the old family physician at his bedside
kept changing into a young woman. While in the form
of an old man he said, "Yes, there are the two captains,
both evidently sound asleep, and no wonder. This is
Captain Hamer, who would have died long ago but for
the devoted care of the two lads, and this is Captain Ry-
der, who brought the boat up the river in the face of all
obstacles."
Then, presto! the old doctor changed into a young wo-
man, who said, " Poor boy, I don't wonder that he has
ARRIVAL OF THE DOCTOR.
362
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
fallen asleep, and I only hope lie isn't in for a spell of
illness. He certainly appears feverish."
With this a soft hand was laid on Phil's forehead, and
he opened his eyes to find his dream so far a reality that
there actually was a young woman bending over him,
and wearing an expression of anxiety on her pleasant
face. Behind her stood the missionary. She stepped
back as she saw that Phil was awake, and the poor boy,
recalling vividly his dishevelled appearance, struggled to
his feet, with a crimson face.
" I didn't know you were going to bring ladies to see
us," he said in a reproachful tone to his companion of
the night. " In fact, I didn't know there was a lady with-
in a thousand miles of here. I'm sure you didn't men-
tion the fact. You only said you were going to fetch
the doctor."
"And so I have," laughed the missionary, "for this
young lady is our doctor, and a most excellent one she
is, too, I can assure you. She. was just saying- that you
didn't look at all well, and wondering if you were going
to have the measles."
" I had 'em long ago," answered the lad, " and I never
felt better in my life. I was a bit sleepy."
"Which isn't surprising, after all you have recently
undergone," remarked the doctor, with a winning smile
that served to establish friendly relations between them
at once. "You see, we have already heard of your brave
struggle against our unruly river, and that you may be
prepared for them I will tell you at once that there are
two more ladies at the station who are quite anxious to
meet the hero of so many adventures."
"Oh!" gasped poor Phil, who had never before been
called a hero.
"Yes, but you needn't look so alarmed. They aren't
half so formidable as I am, for they haven't the privilege
of ordering people to do things that I obtained with my
diploma."
"Are you going to order me to do things?" asked Phil.
" Indeed I am ; for as a doctor I dare issue orders even
to a steamboat captain," laughed the young woman. "I
am going to order you to take sleep in big doses. It is
a famous remedy in this country, for our nights are al-
ready seventeen hours long, and steadily lengthening.
But, joking aside, I want to congratulate you, Mr. Ryder,
on your skilful care of this patient, whose life has been
undoubtedly saved by your success in keeping him warm.
Although he is still a very sick man, I believe the crisis
is past, and that with the nursing he can have on shore
he will pull through all right."
" I'm awfully glad to hear it,"said Phil, " but I'm puz-
zled to know how we are to get him ashore. I shouldn't
think it would do to carry him over the ice in the face
of the wind that is blowing."
" No, indeed," replied the doctor.
"So we have made arrangements to carry him in this
very boat," said the missionary, " aud if you care to step
outside for a moment you can see how we propose to ac-
complish it."
Phil had been wondering at the sound of many voices
and busy labor that came from without, but as he gained
the deck he comprehended the missionary's plan at a
glance. Some fifty native men and boys, directed by a
white man, were hard at work with axes, ice-chisels, poles,
and other implements opening a channel the full width
of the Chimo from where she lay to the shore. As fast
as a cake was loosened it was shoved under the solid ice
on the down-stream side, and already a passage was open-
ed for one-third of the distance.
"That is a capital idea !" exclaimed Phil, "and one
that I don't believe I should have thought of. Even if
I had I am afraid we couldn't have carried it out by our-
selves, nor do I believe we could have induced those na-
tives to work for us as they seem willing to for you."
"Perhaps not," replied the missionary; "but I think
they are fond of me, for when I explained to them how
much I owed to my timely meeting with you last even-
ing they seemed only too glad of a chance to return the
favor."
" I didn't realize that you owed anything to us," medi-
tated Phil. "In fact, I thought we had been indebted
to you for favors ever since our fortunate meeting. Bui
it seems as though most every one was in debt to some
one else for assistance in times of trouble."
"Ah, my boy," replied the missionary, "that is one
of the fundamental principles of human life. From the
moment we enter this world until we leave it we are de-
pendent upon others for everything we possess, including
life itself. Wherefore it becomes us to render unto our
fellows such services as we may promptly and cheerfully.
But here comes Serge, and I am jure he is going to say
that breakfast is ready."
"Yes," laughed Serge, "I am, and I should have said
it long ago, only Phil was so sound asleep that I couldn't
wake him without disturbing the Captain. But now, if
he is hungry —
" If I am hungry !" cried Phil. " I honestly believe it
was only my ravenous hunger that put me to sleep.
Will you join us, sir?"
"I was only waiting for an invitation," replied the
missionary, with a smile, "for I didn't stop ashore long
enough to get anything to eat. Nor do I believe the
doctor has had her breakfast; so if Serge doesn't mind
having a lady at his table —
"A lady?" stammered Serge, in dismay, and gazing
wildly about him. " Is there one on board?"
"There certainly is," laughed the missionary. "And
from what she has heard of your culinary skill she is
most anxious to test it."
A minute later they were all gathered about the Chimo's
mess-table, and the doctor was winning golden opinions
by her judiciously bestowed compliments. Even gruff
Mr. Sims was induced to smile by her praise of his pol-
ished engine, which she declared outshone any yet seen
on the Yukon ; while Isaac was told that the mission saw-
mill was so frightfully out of order that the man of all
men most needed there at that moment was a millwright.
The pleasant meal was hardly finished when a great
shout from outside announced the completion of the
canal. Then, with Phil at the wheel, while the mission-
ary and the doctor occupied the pilot-house with him,
and with flags at half-mast for the dead man in the cabin,
the stanch little Chimo steamed slowly up the narrow
channel to the berth she was to occupy for the next eight
months, As she reached it the mission flag was dipped
in salute, and then hoisted to half-mast in sympathy with
her sorrow.
So the eventful voyage of four hundred miles from St.
Michaels was ended; and. thanks to the lads whom Ger-
ald Hamer had rescued from the cruel waters of Bering
Sea, he and his property were now moored in a safe
haven. And it was none too soon, for that very night
the cold was so intense that the Yukon was frozen from
bank to bank.
But Phil did not care, nor did Serge. They had reached
the goal toward which they had set their faces with such
sturdy determination, and for them neither cold nor
storm held any present terrors.
CHAPTER VIII.
LIFE AT AN ARCTIC MISSION.
THE first thing to be undertaken after the Chimo was
safely moored in her snug berth was the removal of Ger-
ald Hamer to the little log hospital that was the pride of
the doctor's heart. This was accomplished without any
danger from exposure by means of a canvas covered litter
MAECH 26, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
363
especially constructed for the occasion. To be undressed
for the first time in many days, {riven a warm bath, and
placed in a bed that was actually spread with sheet* was
to be so " lapped in luxury " that, as the sick man whis-
pered to Phil, any one who wouldn't get well under such
conditions deserved to die.
The second duty was the burial of poor Martin, for
whom a grave was already prepared in the quaint little
cemetery of the settlement. The rude coffin was borne
bv his late shipmates, and the entire community of An-
vik. natives as well as whites, followed the body to its
place of final rest. Never had Phil been so impressed
with the solemn beauty of the Episcopal service as when
he listened to its grand utterances amid the surroundings
of that wild northern land. The low hanging sun, the
moan of the wintry wind through the sombre forest, the
attentive groups of dark-skinned natives, the mighty river
rolling its tawny flood at their feet, and the encircling
solitudes, vast, silent, and mysterious, centring at that
simple grave, combined to form a picture that none of its
spectators will ever forget.
When all was over the living left the dead with the
dead, and returned to their homes. Even Phil and Serge
declined, on the plea of utter weariness, the proffered hos-
pitality of the mission for that night, and went back to
their own quarters aboard the Chimo, where for the next
twenty-four hours they slept almost without interniis- '
sion.
Then they were ready for anything, and when they
again presented themselves at the mission, clad in new
suits taken from the steamer's ample trade slock, the
ladies found it difficult to realize that these handsome,
wide-awake young fellows were the same who, heavy-
eyed, unkempt, and ready to drop with exhaustion, had
brought the Chimo to port two days before.
Nor did it seem to the boys that they could be in the
same place, for while they slept the river had frozen
completely over, a fall of snow had enfolded all nature in
its spotless mantle, and now the whole world lay spark-
ling in the unclouded sunlight. If they were amazed at
the change in the aspect of the mission they were also
delighted with the missionary's house, which they now
entered for the first time. Not since leaving far-away
New London had either of them seen anything to com-
pare with the prettiness and comfort displayed in this
wilderness house on the verge of arctic Alaska.
There were books, magazines, and pictures, rugs and
potted ferns, a small organ, luxurious divans and easy-
chairs, a museum of native curios, and many other no-
ticeable objects of use or ornament. In an immense fire-
place a cheery blaze roared and crackled, and before it a
fine big cat purred forth his content. In the eyes of the
boys there was nothing lacking to the perfection of this
interior. And yet it was all very simple and inexpen-
sive. Most of the furniture was home-made, the divans
were cushioned with feathers from native wild-fowl, and
the rugs were trophies from neighboring forest or waters.
The missionary's family consisted of his wife, the doc-
tor, a young lady teacher, and a white man who had
charge of the saw-mill. Besides these three were a few
bright native boys and girls, who were under special in-
struction.
While the lads chatted with the ladies and marvelled
at their surroundings one of the native boys was seen ap-
proaching the house, whereupon its mistress saying, " All !
there comes the mail," went to the door. " Nothing but
the paper," she announced on her return, "but we shall
at least learn the latest news."
" I had no idea that you had a mail service in the win-
ter," remarked Phil, innocently, "nor that there was a
paper published in this part of the world."
"Oh, dear, no! It isn't published here." laughed the
missionary's wife. "It is a New York paper, and only a
weekly at that. Still it is better than none, and being of
this week's date its news is quite recent — see?"
So saying she held out the paper for Phil's inspec-
tion, and to his amazement he saw that it was indeed a
New York paper bearing the date of October 20th. Not
until Serge, to whom this harmless deception was an old
story, broke out with the laughter he could no longer re-
strain did it flash into Phil's mind that the paper was a
year old. and then he could have thumped himself for
his stupidity.
"You see," explained the missionary's wife, "we only
receive mail once or twice a year, and then we get such
a quantity of papers that we cannot possibly read them
all at once. So we lay them aside, and have them deliv-
ered one at a time on their regular dates, by which means
we receive two or three newspapers every week during
the year."
"What a capital idea!" exclaimed Phil.
"Isn't it? And it is such good training for the boys,
who are allowed to act as postmen. Then, too, we use
the papers in school in place of reading-books, and so
have fresh topics with which to interest the scholars
every week. On this account our reading-class is so pop-
ular that it has nearly outgrown the capacity of our
school-room ; but, thanks to Captain Hamer, we are to
have a new one in the spring."
" Indeed! Is he going to build you one?"
''He is already having it built, and it is to serve as
your winter quarters so long as you remain with us,
after which it is to be presented to the mission."
This was so interesting a bit of news that the boys
must visit the hospital at once and learn what plans the
leader of their expedition had made. They found him
so far recovered as already to take an interest in his sur-
roundings and able to talk freely with them. He told
them that with a view to the future needs of the school
the new building was to be forty feet long by twenty
wide, though for the sake of present warmth and com-
fort it was to be divided into several small sleeping-
rooms, a large living-room for the use of the Chimo 's
crew, and a store-room for such goods as it was deemed
best to remove from the steamer for safer keeping.
"In it," explained the Captain, "we will make our-
selves as comfortable as possible for the winter, and in
the spring we will push on for the diggings. With the
four hundred miles start we have got, thanks to you
boys, we ought to reach them in time to do a rattling
business before the company's boats get there."
" But how about going out by way of Chilkat for your
next year's supply of goods?" queried Phil.
"Oh, that plan must be given up, of course, and I
must make up my mind to sacrifice a year's business for
the fun I've had with the measles! The trip from here
in the dead of winter would be a tough one for the strong-
est of men, for it must be all of two thousand miles. It
will easily take me the rest of the winter to regain
strength enough to go on with the boat in the spring,
so there's no use thinking of that trip now. I'll manage
to send you boys out somehow next summer, which is the
nearest I can come to keeping my contract with you. In
the mean time, while I am sorry for your disappointment
I am very glad of your company and services."
" You don't think then that it would be possible for us
to go out this winter by way of Forty Mile and the coast
and make our way to the sound or even to San Francisco,
and order your goods for you?" suggested Phil, in whose
mind this wild scheme had suddenly assumed shape.
" You two inexperienced boys !" exclaimed the Captain,
amazed at the audacity of this proposition. " Certainly
not. Why, I don't believe either, of you knows how to
use snow-shoes or drive a team of dogs or has the least
idea of what fifty below zero means."
" I think I know," said Serge.
364
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"Which?"
" All of those things," replied the young Russo-Amer-
ican.
" You know more than I do, then, or ever expect to, for
I have never driven a dog-team. As for Phil here, I
am certain that he knows nothing about any one of the
three."
" I believe I could learn," said the boy from New Lon-
don, "and I know I'd be glad of the chance."
"Well, you can study those things right here, and
when you are learning what fifty below zero means you'll
be glad enough to have a well-warmed house near by in
which to study the results of your lesson. You'll find
plenty to occupy your time in this immediate vicinity for
the next few months. So don't think any more of the
crazy scheme you have just proposed, for I can't possibly
give my consent to it. If I should thus lose sight of you
I should spend the rest of my days in mortal terror of
meeting Mr. John Ryder, and having him demand to
know what I had done with his boy. Now I shall have
to ask you to leave me for a while, as I am too tired to
talk any more."
As soon as the boys were outside Phil asked: "How
do you drive dogs, Serge? Do you have lines to each
one or only to the leader?"
"You don't drive them with lines at all," laughed the
other. "Nor do you go near them. You sometimes run
beside the sledge, but generally behind it, so as to push
on the handle-bar over obstructions or to hang on and
hold back in going down steep places. From there you
talk to the dogs, and encourage them with a whip of
walrus-hide or seal-skin, that has a handle about sixteen
inches long and a lash of about eighteen feet. To pro-
duce the slightest effect on your team you must be able
to crack that lash with a report like a pistol shot in either
ear of any clog, or to fleck any one of them on any desig-
nated part of the body. You must also learn the lan-
guage that your dogs are accustomed to, for they will pay
no attention to any other."
"And are snow-shoes a necessity?"
" Certainly they are, for without them you would often
sink out of sight in drifts, while even in soft snow of
moderate depth they are indispensable."
" Well," sighed Phil, "it seems as though one had to
learn a great deal before he ctmld travel far in this coun-
try; but I suppose if others have, I can. So let's go and
borrow a pair of snow-shoes and have a lesson at once.
I suppose I might as well begin the Eskimo whip-practice
and dog-language, too; for with such a long journey
ahead of us, we mustn't waste any more time than is ab-
solutely necessary on preliminaries."
"What long journey?" asked Serge, bluntly.
"Our journey up the river to Forty Mile, and so on to
Chilkat. of course. You didn't imagine we were going to
loaf here all winter, did you?"
" But the Captain won't give his consent."
" Oh, we'll manage that. Besides, we've got to get to
Sitka some time, you know, or our parents will be getting
anxious about us."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
BOTH RIGHT.
SMALL Tommy's father said that be
Considered that most boys
Were little fire-crackers, they
Are so filled up with uoise.
But Tommy said his Pa was wrong;
That he had always found
Himself more like a pin-wheel that
Is always whizzing round.
EARLY DAYS OF SUCCESSFUL MEN.
THE ARTIST— F. S. CHURCH.
BY BARNET PHILLIPS.
LIKE to get notes from Mr.
F. S. Church, the artist, be-
cause he generally draws
pictures in them. Not that
his notes are not interest-
ing, for lie writes so well
that many an author would
like to have his fresh and
natural thoughts, but he
throws in the pictures be-
sides, and so I have both text and illustration. The oth-
er day he was moving his studio, and this is the way he
explained the situation.
The old Greeks drew the picture of a noble white steed
with wings of flame, and they called him Pegasus. They
believed that only a poet could ride him. The story runs
that once a rustic slipped a halter on Pegasus, hitched
him to a plough, and made him turn furrows. Pegasus
did a wearisome day's work. After a while he kicked
over the traces, spurned the ground, and, spreading his
wings, sailed away to the realms of fancy. That tale is
typical to me of talent subjected to what might be rough,
distasteful, but honest toil. If Pegasus did get rid of the
galling collar, he was improved by the hard experi-
ence.
Many of you must know of Mr. F. S. Church's work.
When you go to an art exhibition, you will be certain to
find Mr. Church's pictures in the place of honor. Read-
ers of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE have seen many of his
illustrations in its numbers. His wild beasts have growled
MR. CHURCH TO-DAT.
for you. You have followed his flying storks. You
have laughed at his comic bears, and wanted at Christ-
mas-time to sit down and toss pan-cakes or to eat plum-
pudding with them.
There never was such a wild-beast-tamer as Mr. Church
— that is, on canvas — for he delights in creating fairy
forms, who, with a wave of their delicate hands or a
smile from their sweet lips, can subdue the most ferocious
lions or the cruelest tigers.
I cornered Mr. Church the other day, and I said to him,
"Will you be good enough to tell me, sir, when your
turn for art first showed itself?"
" I found it," answered Mr. Church, " in studying geog-
raphy. I was uncommonly fond of geography and maps."
"Oh, I see; interested in the descriptions of the coun-
tries, the costumes of the people, the varied products — tar,
pitch, turpentine; camels, diamonds, sugar; zebras —
" It was not exactly that. I did not find much in the
text, but in the maps. The maps were just splendid.
The teacher was proud of the close attention I was
paying to my geography. He said to my mother: ' Your
little boy, ma'am ' (I was seven or eight then), ' is exceed-
ingly fond of his geography. He is studying his maps
every chance he gets. Just poring over them. I should
not be surprised if he could put his finger right on Tim-
buctoo at once.' "
" Fine power of application," I said, encouragingly.
"I do not think I had the most distant idea of where
Timbuctoo was," was Mr. Church's reply. " What I real-
ly was doing was drawing pictures on the back of the
maps. There was such a wealth of nice white paper there
and a perfect drawing-pad, and I didn't want it wasted."
"Oh, dear me, and were you not punished for that?" I
asked.
"I don't think I was. I was ordered to rub out my
pictures. I was not a bad little boy. I did as I was told,
only-"
"Only what?"
"When the page was clean I began drawing in the
same places right over again. I could not help it. The
temptation was too strong. I am afraid I was incorri-
gible."
"What were your pictures?" I inquired.
"My taste ran in one particular groove. I was devo-
ted to reading, and I knew the Pirates' Own Book and
the narratives of early African adventure. I wrote
stories myself, and it was perfectly natural that I should
illustrate them. I do not know whether I admired my
pictures, but my schoolmates did. They thought them
real blood-curdling."
"And what were your pictures?" I asked.
"Mostly pirates, corsairs, buccaneers, freebooters. I
did not want to be a Captaiti Kidd and run away from
Grand Rapids, Michigan, where I was born, but I wanted
to draw and paint him. Strangely enough I have pre-
served a panorama of mine, and here is some of it. Look
how those pistols blaze, how those cutlasses slash ! Those
are not our own Indians; I knew they were red; but those
chocolate figures are Africans. Observe those mortal
combats and the knives dripping with gore, and the
swashbuckler trooper standing in his doorway. That's
Robin Hood, distinguishable by his bow, arrow, and his
top boots. See the pistols going off, and the torturing
of a prisoner tied to stakes beseeching his captors for
mercy.
" Did you see no good pictures?"
" I remember, when I was a small boy, my father took
me to look at some English mezzotints, illustrations prob-
ably of Walter Scott's novels. There were Friar Tuck
and Richard the Lion-hearted, and a smuggler's cave,
and that set me going worse than ever. The taste for
drawing men fighting was ingrained then."
"You received no instruction?"
"There was a really good artist at Grand Rapids, a
Hollander who painted landscapes. The use of oil paints
was a revelation to me. But I did not have any money
to buy oil paints with. In the town there were some
gootl Jesuit fathers, and in their chapel there hung
sacred pictures. I used to go and look at them, and
they rather awed me."
"Then you dropped for a while your death's-head-and-
bloody-bone business?" I remarked.
"No, not a bit of it. Boys' minds are curious. The
bad men who inflicted the tortures interested me more
than the suffering martyrs, and I went in stronger than
ever for my pet horrors."
" You wanted, however, to be an artist?"
" Yes, that was my determination. All the money I
could save was spent in pencils and paint-boxes. I had
the vaguest conception of what an artist had to do, and
no possible idea of the studies necessary."
" But you had the will power?" I said.
" I made up my mind to earn some money, so as to be
an artist. When I was thirteen I went to Chicago, and
had a place as clerk in an express office, and when not
at work I drew and I drew."
366
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"Not pirates?"
"No, they dropped out of sight. I always saw what
was amusing in nature, and so the comic side of a frog,
a turtle, a rabbit, or a bird always asserted itself. I ran
into caricature. Then after a while I was not exactly
dissatisfied, but there came a longing, an undefined feel-
ing, that there was something better and higher for me
to do. I began to see what were my deficiencies. I did
not know how to draw. I could take a pencil and make
•lines, but that was not drawing. I could not copy
nature to suit me."
"Did none of those beautiful figures you paint now
come up before you then?" I asked.
" But vaguely. I may have caught glimpses of some-
thing, as through the rifts of a cloud. I suppose my
imagination never was dormant. But dreaming about a
picture and sitting down wide awake, with a canvas be-
fore you, and then coolly painting your reverie, are two
different things."
"Then you pegged and pegged away?"
"Sure," was Mr. Church's answer. " I really do think
now," he continued, " that I did a great deal of severe
work. I could make money by mechanical drawing, and
I did that, and, with what I could save, that paid for my
•courses of instruction in a drawing-class under an intelli-
gent master."
'' Did it come quickly — the study of the human form?"
" No, it did not. But I began to understand what
were the aims of the true artist, and found how ditlicult
it was to give tangible form to subjects passing through
my fancy."
"You had, then, a glimpse of the shore you wanted to
touch?" •
" It was hazy — a dim, blurry outline. But it was not
sailing. It was digging — I had to dig," said Mr. Church,
reflectively.
"Some time ago I had a note from you, Mr. Church;
and here it is. It was about a picture for HARPER'S
YOUNG PEOPLE. You had made a rough sketch of an
illustration. Does that not show in a measure what you
mean when you say how difficult it is to give tangible
form to subjects which pass through an artist's fancy?"
"Yes, that explains it in a certain measure. The first
idea may come like a flash, but then before you make
your picture there is a process of development, often of
an unconscious kind. But though it may seem easy in
its accomplishment, it is the resultant of many years of
toil. Let me go back to my panorama. I exhibited it
•with another boy, and the theatre was his woodshed.
We slid the panorama along a door. It was a pay show,
and our total receipts were fourteen cents, and that was
the first money I made in art."
THE VISION OF THE KING'S BAD EYE.
BY H. K. 1IUNK1TTRICK.
ONCE upon a time there was a queer old King who was very
unhappy because of a defect iu one of bis eyes — a defect
which'he had endeavored in many ways to cure, but in vain.
This defect, if it may be called such, was similar to the imper-
fection in a pane of glass whicb, when looked through, distorts
objects upon the other side in a most grotesque anil uncanny
manner. But in the other eye everything appeared in its nat-
ural form. Consequently the King was very unhappy, because
he could never rid himself of the impression made upon him by
an ordinarily beautiful object which he had once observed with
the defective eye. Over this organ he usually wore a sort of a
bandage that everything might appear to him in its natural
shape. When he tixed both eyes upon a person the effect would
be a composite effect of beauty and ugliness, which was very
annoying to him, because he was an optimistic person, and de-
sired to view things in their most alluring light. Yet he was a
man of more than ordinary curiosity, and frequently, when he
had looked at a person only to discover that person to be very
beautiful, the temptation to look out of the other eye, to see if
his first impression had been correct was too much for him, and
he would slyly remove the bandage, to find the object of his
vision a most hideous and grotesque personage.
Out of the abnormal eye a man would appear to be only half
his actual height and twice his width, and animals and trees
were distorted iu the same manner. He would also come to
grief in many ways, as his perspective was 'way at sea. He
would step in the middle of a brook which seemed to be not
more than a couple of feet v\idr,;ni<l in \\alking up and down
stairs he would often fall, as the steps would ripple iu every
conceivable way, and appear to him to be where in reality they
were not. An apple would .seem to him to be the size of a
pumpkin, and when he had eaten three or four of them he would
consider bis appetite too great for a healthy man, and conse-
quently become greatly worried aboiit himself. This was his
chief reason for wearing a bandage over the eye which distorted
all objects.
"All, what a terrible thing, "he one day said to a courtier, " to
look upon a mosquito and have to imagine it a chicken-hawk."
'• It must be horrible," replied the courtier, sympathetically.
"Once," said the King, " when I was young I tied for dear life
from a mule, only to discover, when I had fallen from exhaustion,
that the mule was a rabbit. It was then I first took to wearing
a bandage over my eye. I would give anything to be cured of
this awful defect of vision. I wonder if there is any way out
of it?"
"I am at a loss to give your majesty advice," replied the
courtier, humbly ; "but it seems to me yon might be cured by
having the eye removed."
The King was not particularly pleased by the suggestion of
so dire an expedient, and frowned upon the courtier, who was
sorely distressed by his master's displeasure. In fact, the King
became impressed with the idea that his courtier \vas making
light of his misfortune, about which he was so sensitive, and
forthwith dismissed him from the service. It soon became a
subject which no one dared allude to; and the King might mis-
take a chicken for an ostrich, or a tea-rose for a cabbage, with-
out fear of correction.
The King was unmarried, because lie had long ago vowed
that no woman should ever become his \\itc who did not appear
perfectly lovely in the eye that distorted all objects.
"For," said he, "if she should look lovely in my sound eye
I might still be mistaken. She might be actually more un-
comely than she would appear in my good optic, and still not
as distressingly uncanny as the other one would make her.
Therefore she must be fair in my defective eye whom I wed."
Many a fair candidate had been suggested, and it was the
opinion, of every cue whose opinion was worth anything that
the King would never marry.
At a considerable distauce from the palace lived a wood-
chopper who was so ugly in form and feature that every one
wa.s afraid to go near him, and if his wife had not been as ugly
as himself she might have succeeded iu securing another for a
husband. Children ran past their humble weather-beaten abode
as if the place were haunted, and no one would associate with
them. Now these people had a daughter who was so gro-
tesquely ugly that beside her her parents seemed beautiful.
The people about the country shuddered upon beholding her, and
*alled her " The Vision of the King's Bad Eye," and through
looking upon her people began to feel a sympathetic apprecia-
tion of the poor King's malady. There was no one charitable
enough to have a kind thought of her, and as she performed the
functions of a drudge about the place she had little to cheer her
life.
Yet she didn't know how ugly she was iu appearance, because
her parents had become so accustomed to her face that they
looked upon it only as one of beauty and grace, which must be
the characteristics of all who are seen only through the specta-
cles of love.
So when others told her brusquely that she was the vision
of the King's bad eye, she really thought they envied her her
good looks, and paid no attention to their many taunts.
"The King would pull his bandage over both eyes if he were
to see you," they would say.
Still she worked away with a complacency that provoked her
tormentors beyond measure.
"Why don't you go and let the King look at you, and see if
you can spoil his good eye ?" they would say.
One day she replied, " It will be time enough when the King
sends for me."
And in this way it came to the King's ears, and his curiosity
MARCH 2fi, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
367
regarding the wood-chopper's daughter became so great that he
did send for her.
She appeared at his request iu due time, and when he cast his
good eye upon her he thought her anytbing but lovely.
"Isii't she beautiful!" exclaimed the mother, proudly, with a
smile that was pathetic.
Then the King looked at her with the bad eye, and she was
so fascinatingly ugly that she actually looked beautiful in it.
" What !" exclaimed the King, " have my eyes changed places !"
And thru he continued, after he had looked at her again with
each eye : "No, my eyes are the same. If she is homely in my
good eye she is lovely in luy defective one. She is the only
lovely object my bad eye ever gazed upon ; I shall henceforth
wear the bandage over my perfect eye, and be satisfied as I go
through life, asking to see nothing else that is beautiful but
her." "
And ever after the day of the wedding the King wore the
baudage over his good eye and was perfectly happy.
HANDBALL-A GAME FOR EVERYBODY.
BY WILLIAM HEMMINGWAT.
HANDBALL is one of the oldest games known. Its history
is very nearly as old as the history of mankind. Recent
•excavations at Gurob, a town sixty miles smith of Cairo, in
Egypt, brought to light a number of balls that had been used
in the game. Some were of leather, and some of wood. They
were all about as big as modern tennis-balls. Men wise iu
arclueology say that these balls were used in games played
4000 years ago. Think of a game whose record is more than
twice as old as the Christian era! And indeed it is far older than
-that. I remember that C'rowley, the late lamenied Central
Park chimpanzee, whose well-preserved body yon may still see
in the Museum of Natural History, used to have rare names of
ball with Jake Cook, his keeper. It is not impossible that
.simians played some sort of ball game before man lived on this
earth.
Through all the centuries of its existence handball has been
Tory popular. It has no complicated rules to bother new play-
ers. One can have as much fun at his first game as he can
find iu the last. Any first-class player will tell you that he
.is constantly finding something new in it. The ancient La-
cedasmouians had a ball game which, with very little variation,
becomes tennis, which is closely allied to handball. Con-
quering Roman soldiers took handball into Gaul and Spain.
"Longne Paume" became its name on the continent of Europe.
Like every other good thing, it was reserved for the exclusive
use of kings and nobles. Louis X. of France, according to his-
torian Villaret, died from a congestive chill after playing longue
paume in the forest ofViucennes. Perhaps that is why the
common people were presently allowed to play the game. No
monarch has ever been discovered who likes to monopolize
deadly illness. Still, if the fate of Louis X. will keep my young
readers from being careless and catching cold, the dear old gen-
tleman may rest happy in his sculptured tomb. He will feel
that even his death was useful as a warning.
What outfit must we have for- a rousing game of handball?
Answer: a tennis-ball, a comparatively smooth wall, and a com-
paratively smooth plot of ground. Could anything be cheaperf
And as for the fun in it, I have tried every kind of athletic
sport except tiger-shooting and football, and I place handball in
the very front rank so far as fun is concerned. And as for ex-
ercise, listen. George was one of the best swimmers and
wrestlers in the New York Athletic Club. For a few years he
•ceased exercising regularly. He began to grow, not tall, but
very far around. Then he suddenly developed a horror of ac-
cumulating fat. He began to wrestle, to swim, to take long
jogs on tbe gallery running track. All in vain. George's la-
bors jarred the house, but he could not take off weight, although
he wore a bale of flannels. One day he sat worrying over his
immensity.
" Play a few games of handball," advised a friend of his. Up
went George to the gymnasium. After a very little -while the
leaping and running of the game made his jolly face moist and
pink. In time it became wet and purple. At tl' jud of two
hours' play he found he had lost five pounds. Iiext day and the
next he persevered. At the end of a few ,«eeks his old dress
suit fitted him again. I remember reducing myself three pounds
one winter afternoon when I was already trained down as firm
as I should be. I knew I ought to stop playing, but to stop was
impossible. The game was too fascinating.
It seems to me every boy should make it a fixed rule that
when he has pla\ed the game two hours he shall firmly and
manfully put on his coal ami walk away from the court — and
stay away for the rest of tin- day. Too much exercise will do a
fellow more harm than smoking or going without sleep. Don't
get iu the habit of saving. " I'll play just one more game." Learn
to stop at the time yon first intend'to stop.
Any house wall or barn wall will do to play handball against,
if it has no windows. It is useless to say, " I'll be careful ami 1
won't knock the ball through a window." You can't help it.
Moments are bound to come when you will pounce on the ball,
yelling like an Indian, and you'll smash it with all the strength
in your mind and hod\ . Then it is too late to think of win-
dows. Profit by the experience of one who has broken and
paid.
Let us suppose yon have found the gable end of a house or
barn or stable, shop or any structure not pierced by a window.
Draw straight lines, one fifteen feet, and one two feet above and
parallel to the ground. Let them be fifteen feet long. Now
draw vertical lines from each end of the top line to the ground.
The space enclosed above the lower line is the space into which
the ball must be driven. Draw straight lines on the ground
from each end of the playing space for a distance of twenty-live
feet. Close this with a straight line at the end, and your court
is finished. If you choose you can mark the wall with white
chalk, although white paint is better. If the wall is of smooth-
faced brick yon are indeed lucky. If it is dressed with cement,
then — well, my hands ache to play in your court. It is well
worthwhile to level the ground of the court with great thor-
oughness. Borrow or hire a long spirit-level and some shovels;
these and a few hours' work will give you a smooth playing
space.
Now the game begins. Let Dick and Harry play. Dick
serves. He stands at the service-line (which is ten feet from
tbe wall) and throws down the tennis-ball. As it rebounds he
strikes it up against the wall with the palm of his right hand.
Let him keep his fingers and thumb well closed, for if a loose
finger hits the ball it will ache.
Now the ball rebounds from the wall. If it has hit the wall
above the " dead-line" (the lower one), and if it has bounded out
past the service-line aud into the court, Harry must hit it back
to the wall, and cause it to return iu the same way. On this
'•return," as it is called, the ball need not come back past the
service-line. It is enough if it returns past the " balk-line,"
which is drawn on the ground three feet out from the base of
the wall and parallel to it.
One word as to scoring. If Dick, who, you remember, "served"
the ball, manages to return the ball so that Harry can't play it
back within the lines I have described, he scores a point. If
Harry does the same trick first, Dick goes out. This does not
count as one point, but it gives Harry the "service" and a
chance to score. Any one who drives the ball out of bounds of
course loses by it. If he is "hand in," he loses his service, if he
is "hand out," the server scores a point against him. Twenty-
one points constitute a game. Four boys can play in one court,
two on a side.
A CERTAIN FAIRY.
BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER.
THERE'S a dear little fairy with very bright eyes
Who lives iu the school-room and sleeps on the shelves,
Where they shut up the books which, to make children wise,
The children must look at and handle themselves.
Aud morning by morning, at nine of the clock,
The small fairy wakes and springs dowu to the floor,
For the lad and the lassie iu jacket or frock
Will need her to aid them ere task-time is o'er.
Be the problem vexations, or stubborn the verb,
Depend on this friend to give help quite worth while;
The sternest of masters she'll never disturb,
Her presence has ever been met with a smile.
The Fairy "Attention!" Present you ? Of course,
The dear little fairy with very bright e;
Who lives iu the school-room for better, for worse,
Aud knows every secret that makes children wise.
368
HAKPEK'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
A GOOD SUBSTITUTE.
IF my little clog should lose his tail,
I'd buy him a small sand bag
To take its place ; 'twould be very sad
If he'd nothing at all to wag.
TUB BABY'S NAME.
•' WHAT are they going to call your new brother, Jack ?"
" Oh, I don't know— -Jack, I guess !"
" But that's your name."
" That doesn't make any difference. It was Papa's before I
had it. Pa and ma have a way of inakiu' us boys use up their
old things."
•
A GREAT SCHEME.
I WISH I owned a parrot that
Had some intelligence,
To learn my lessons every day,
Would it not be immense ?
To hide him in my pocket where
My teacher couldn't see,
And let him answer questions that
Proved much too hard for me ?
THE Japanese relate a story to their children of a certain
petty nobleman who, having eaten up his fortune, took rooms
next door to a famous restaurant, in order that he might enjoy
the odors of the cooking viands in the which he could no longer
indulge himself.
The proprietor, hearing of this after some time, presented a
bill, wherein he charged two yen fifty sen for the vapors of food
inhaled by the poor nobleman during the month.
Whereupon the ex-gourmand, calling for his old cash- box,
which now held but a few copper coins, shook it violently in the
ear of the proprietor, and replied,
"As you charge, me for the fumes of your food I pay you with
the sound of my money."
SETTING A HEN.
DICK. "SAY, BEOKIE, WHY IB SKTTING A HEN LIKE GARDENING ?
GIVE IT UP? BECAUSE IT'S CULTIVATING AN KGG PLANT."
MOTHER. "Jack, are you
still the head of your class?"
JACK. " No, ma; some one
had a better head than I,
and he is there now."
A QUICK CURE.
MOTHER. "DON'T YOU FKFI. ABLE TO BIT up TO-DAY?"
BOY. "No, MAMMA, I AM SO WEAK."
MAMMA. " WELL, LET MU SUK. I GUESS YOU WILL BE ABLE TO GO TO SOUOOL MONDAY. TO-DAY is SATURDAY,
D — "
BOY (jumping out of bed). "SATOBDAY! I THOUGHT IT WAS FRIDAY."
A LARGE BOOK.
IN one of the recent num-
bers of HARPER'S YOUNG
PEOPLE a short sketch
appeared describing the
smallest book probably in
existence.
As an offset to this, it
will doubtless interest the
n-ailcr to know of a certain
famous copy of the Koran,
or bible of the Moslems.
This book's enormous size
has given it a great reputa-
tion. It is something like
five feet long by three feet
wide.
The letters or characters
average three inches in
height, and the book itself
is about a foot in thickness.
It is jealously guarded, and
although a religious book,
still it would be rather
amusing to watch the. ef-
forts of a couple of full-
grown men opening it, for
all the world like one would
open the flap doors of a cel-
lar, the binding being, liter-
ally, in boards. The labor
of preparing such a work
covered a period of six
years.
H
HARPEKS
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1*1»5, by HARPKH A BROTHERS. All Rights Re;
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 805.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, APRIL 2. 1895
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLAltS A YEAR.
THE BOOT ON THE OTHER LEG.
BY ALBERT LEE.
IT had been thawing and raining alternately for three
or four days. The boys had been obliged to stay in-
doors, and time had hung1 most heavily on their hands.
But Saturday afternoon Dick Allstoii came in and said he
was tired of hanging around his own house all the time,
and wanted to know if Dave and Bob Clark could not
think up something to do.
"I can't," said Dave, frankly, " but let's go out to the
barn ; perhaps we will get some inspiration there."
The barn was usually a fruitful place for inspiration,
because it was an exceedingly large structure, and because
one end of the loft was piled with all sorts of old things
that had been stowed away up there as worthless for at
least three generations. Grandfather Clark had made the
first contributions to this heaven of boyish delight, and as
Grandfather Clark had spent most of his days in the East
India trade, as skipper of the clipper ship Moonshine, his
cast-off material furnished in itself a treasure-house for
Dave and his brother. The old Captain, now long since
dead, used to make a yearly trip to Bombay, and his old
trunks and chests and belongings, when relegated to the
barn, had formed almost a wagon -load in themselves.
370
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
But the boys bad frequently overhauled them and pulled
them to pieces, and almost all the " inspiration" had long
since been knocked out of them.
But Dick and Bob and Dave climbed the rickety ladder
once again, and invaded the dusty store-room of by-
gone glories, and sat on the old boxes just as they had
done hundreds of times before.
"I know what!" finally exclaimed Dick, as he jumped
to his feet. "Let's send an April-fool present to Sam
Dickson."
"Oh no," objected Dave. "Sam Dickson has had
trouble enough lately. It's no reason because Sam's fa-
ther is suing my father that we should be mean to liim
and bother him."
" Sam is a pig'," stated Bob, emphatically.
"I know you think so," replied Dave. "You and
Dick had a fight with him, and Sam got the best of you,
and ever since you have hated him."
"Got the best of us? I guess not!" retorted Dick.
v But if you don't want to join in a joke, you needn't.
Bob and I will make a present for Sam, and send it to
him."
"Well, I shall have nothing to do with it," said Dave,
hotly; and he climbed down the ladder, and went back
through the rain to the house.
Sam Dickson's father, as Dave had said, was, in fact,
having a lawsuit with Mr. Clark. It was all on account
of a business enterprise that the two men had entered into
together, and which had turned out disastrously for Mr.
Dickson. The latter charged Mr. Clark with the blame,
and an action resulted. In the mean while the Dicksons
had been left almost penniless, and had been forced to
move away from Tanyille-by-the-Sea, and to take very
humble lodgings in Boston.
" We'll fix that Sam," said Dick, as Dave slammed the
barn door.
"That we will," added Bob. "We'll send him a
big box, and make him pay the expressage. That'll be
an April fool for him for keeps."
" What shall we put in it?"
" Oh, anything. Let's look about for some truck up
here. And then we'll pack it up in all the boxes we can
find, and ship it the day before April 1st. That's day af-
ter to-morrow."
Then these two uncharitable boys started in to rum-
mage about in all the old trunks and chests to find some
worthless object to send to poor Sam Dickson in Boston.
They turned everything inside out, but they could not
find anything worthless enough for their purpose any-
where. Finally, however, Dick stumbled over a small
card-board box in a corner of one of the oldest chests, and
when he opened it, he found it to contain half a dozen
dirty pebbles.
"Here are some old stones," he exclaimed. "Let's
send him these."
"I guess they'll do as well as anything," answered
Bob. " Then he can go out in his back yard and throw
stones at himself instead of throwing them at us."
The boys wrapped the pebbles up in a piece of brown
paper, and labelled it "April Fool." Then they put this
package in a card-board box, and likewise labelled that
" April Fool." Having done this, they placed their gift
in a wooden box, and packed it in straw. This they also
labelled, and then placed that in another box. A fourth
larger box was found, and the entire combination was
nailed up and duly addressed to Sam Dickson at his lodg-
ings in Boston. They were careful to leave no marks on
any of the boxes that would show who the senders were.
Bob and Dick said nothing more about their scheme to
Dave, but on the afternoon of March 31st they carted the
big box to the express-office, and despatched it, C.O.D.,
to Sam, after having given assumed names to the receiv-
ing clerk.
On the afternoon of April 1st Sam Dickson and his fa-
ther and mother were sitting in their little dining-room
together conversing with old Mr. Balsam, who had stopped
in to say that he was going to New York that night, and
who wanted to know if he could do anything for the
Dicksons during his visit to the great chvv. Just as he
was about to bid them farewell the bell rang, and an ex-
pressman with a large C. O. D. box addressed to Sam
Dickson presented a bill for $3 75.
"What is this, Sam?" asked bis father.
"I don't know, father. I have not ordered anything
from- anybody. It's a surprise to me."
"Do you want this box?" shouted the 'expressman,
roughly, as he shoved the bill into Mr. Dickson's hand.
Mr. Dickson looked surprised for a moment; then he felt
in his pocket, paid the man, and he and Sam carried the
box up stairs.
"Perhaps it's a present," said Mrs. Dickson, as Sam
went into the kitchen to get a hatchet.
"Heaven knows we need presents badly enough," re-
plied Mr. Dickson, with a sad smile, and then everybody
sat down and watched Sam open the box.
As soon as the lid came off the cruel words "April
Fool " burst upon the little company, and almost brought
tears to th'e eyes of Sam's mother. Mr. Balsam looked
very fierce, and shifted around uneasily in his chair. Mr.
Dickson said nothing, but walked slowly into the other
room, and began to read a newspaper.
"I'll just see how much of a fool trick this is," said
Sam, with his teeth clinched. And he went at those
wooden boxes like an Indian at an enemy. The splinters
flew to the right and to the left, the straw was scattered
all over the floor, and still the words " April Fool " and
nothing else kept corrrtng into evidence. At last Sam
reached the brown "paper package and opened it, and
threw the stones down on the table.
"Nothing but half a dozen pebbles," he said, with a
sigh ; but his eyes flashed in a way that would have made
Bob Clark and Dick Allston uncomfortable if they had
been in that room.
Old Mr. Balsam pulled out his spectacles and moved
his chair up to the table. He picked up one of the peb-
"bles and looked at it. Then he picked up another. Pres-
ently he grew very red, and coughed, and readjusted his
glasses, and rubbed the stone on 'his sleeve.
"A bowl of water, please, Mrs. Dickson," he said, ner-
vously.
Mrs. Dickson did not quite comprehend, but she drew
some water in a salad bowl, and placed it on the table.
Mr. Balsam dropped all the stones into the water, which
soon took on a grayish color as the dirt from the pebbles
melted away. The old gentleman took out the largest
of the stones, and dried it carefully with his handker-
chief. It was about as big as his thumb joint. He rubbed
it and scrutinized it and squinted at it, and then he
did the same thing with each of the others. At first he
looked surprised, then he began to smile, and at last he
said:
"Sam, my boy, if this is an April-fool joke the joke is
not on you. These pebbles are precious stones. Four of
them are Indian rubies and the other two are sapphires.
They are uncut stones, but they must be worth thousands
of dollars."
"What!" ejaculated Sam, aghast.
"Have you any idea who sent them to you?"
"Not the slightest," answered Sam, now very much
excited.
"So much the better," said Mr. Balsam, chuckling to
himself. "If you want me to, I will take these stones
to New York with me to-night, and have them valued in
Maiden Lane to-morrow. Perhaps I can sell them for
you."
But Sam and his mother were too much excited to an-
APRIL 2, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
371
swer this question off-hand. Sain rushed in for his fa-
ther, and the four people sat down around the table and
examined the pebbles again and again.
"There's no doubt about it," repeated Mr. Balsam.
"Those are four rubies and two sapphires. I'll go my
life on it. I have not had a brother in the jewelry busi-
ness for fifteen years for nothing."
" Well, they're Sam's," was all Mrs. Dickson could
say.
"Yes, they're Sam's," added his father, "and it's for
him to do as he wishes with them."
"Shall I sell them for you?" asked Mr. Balsam
again.
"Sell them?" exclaimed Sam — "sell them? I should
say so. What are those stones worth to me as they are?
They're too small for building material and too big for
bird seed. Why, I'd take fifty cents for them."
And so it was quickly agreed that Mr. Balsam should
take the stones to New York with him, and sell them if
he could. He wrapped them carefully in tissue-paper,
put tlirm in his inner pocket, and went away.
Two days later a telegram came to Sam from New
York. It read :
" IL'ive sold the stones for §17,500. EDGAR BALSAM."
And when the story of the April-fool box got into the
newspapers — as such stories always do — and was eventu-
ally printed in the Gazette of Tanville-by-the-Sea, Dick
and Bob saw it, and they went to bed and were down
sick for three whole days.
LIFE-BLOOD OF A GREAT CITY.
HOW NEW YORK SEES AT NIGHT.
BY WILLIAM HEMMIXGWAY.
OU turn on a gas -jet or an electric light
without thinking much of the operation.
But if you ever happen to visit one of
the gigantic workshops where light is
manufactured for this city, you will
certainly be impressed by the tremendous
power that stands behind every dancing
gas-jet and every glowing electric bulb. Thousands
of laborers and hundreds of thoroughly trained sci-
entists toil day and night for our benefit without ceas-
ing. Their duties are divided into hundreds of bewilder-
ing specialties. After visiting a few light-factories one
comes away with a confused impression of magicians and
enchantments.
Down at the foot of East Twenty-first Street more than
three city blocks are occupied by one of the plants of the
Consolidated Gas Company, the chief manufacturer of
illuminating gas in this country. The region round
about looks like an. enchanted country full of high round
castles. But if you go closer, you will find that the tall
towers are made of stout iron, and that they are the stor-
age reservoirs from which gas is driven under pressure
through miles of streets, so that it darts out in jets at
every lamp-post, or in your drawing-room or kitchen, or
pretty nearly wherever else you want it.
In this Twenty-first Street light-factory the first thing
that impressed me was the entire absence of hurry or
apparent effort. Gangs of laborers were dawdling along,
handling shovels and all sorts of outlandish iron in-
struments, as if the}r had years before them, and didn't
care whether they finished their work just now or next
century. But all this is on the surface. They work hard,
but each gang is as well trained as any college boat crew.
They swing along easily, but manage to accomplish
a great deal. The men in this factory were making il-
luminating gas by cooking hard coal and Croton water
together. Of course the excellence of the product depends
on the way it is treated after the elements are put to-
gether. Half a dozen gasogenes are standing side by
side. Each one is a tall cylinder of black iron, capable
of holding from three to five tons of hard coal. The an-
thracite is so piled up within that it can all catch fire at
the same time. When I arrived, a couple of laborers on
an elevated railway track had just dumped the last car-
load of coal into the yawning fire-box.
A big fellow in blue overalls set fire to the coal, and the
air-blast was turned on, thereby creating a furious forced
draught. There was a roaring, rushing sound within the
gasogene. A tall, feathery-looking plume of blue flame
darted from out of what you or I would call the chimney
of the gasogeue, but what the gas-makers call the purge-
valve. This blue flame was almost pure hydrogen, good
enough for heating purposes, but not worth considering
by itself as a means of lighting. These jets of burning
hydrogen, by -the -way, can be seen for miles at night.
Their pale and dancing shapes give that part of the East
River an uncanny air.
But presently the flame at the purge-valve took on an
orange hue. The foreman was watching it with the inten-
sity of a fisherman awaiting the precise moment to land
his prize. The orange flame deepened.
"Shell do," cried the foreman, closing the purge-
valve, while liis assistant shut off the forced draught.
The whole mass of coal, now incandescent within the gas-
ogene, would blind us with its dazzling, glaring whiteness
could we find a vent in the thick black iron wall to peep
through. Without losing a moment, the foreman turned
a valve that sent a vast cloud of steam hissing into the
superheated cupola. Up it flew, decomposing as it went.
Pure hydrogen was what flowed from the gasogene now.
It was led off through tight iron pipes to large tanks or
holders. Thence it was driven under pressure to the car-
buretters. The blue flame (hydrogen) that first appeared
when the coal began to burn was unavoidably wasted,
but every bit of the gas that came from the decomposed
steam was conveyed to the carburetters. Here the hy-
drogen, which, by -the -way, is the lightest substance
known — fifteen times lighter than air — is mixed with
naphtha, which gives it luminosity. The naphtha is al-
lowed to trickle down upon a series of trays, wherein
steam jets turn it to vapor. The hydrogen, flowing up
from the bottom of the carburetter, readily mingles with
the vaporized naphtha.
If you should visit this plant, the superintendent will
take great pride in showing you the U. G. I. process for
cooking coal and water together, and thereby making
gas. The mysterious letters stand for United Gas Im-
provement Company. By this plan the generator, car-
buretter, and superheater are grouped close together, and
a great deal of the hydrogen that would escape in the
older process is caught and used. Inside of the super-
heater is as fine a display of fireworks as any one would
care to see. Here the hydrogen and naphtha vapor are
" fixed," by being driven through a gigantic checker-
work structure of fire-proof brick that has been heated
to a fierce blood-red hue.
372
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
LIGHTING STREETS BV ELECTRICITY.
But let us go back to the condensers. These are in a
lofty brick house on the south side of Twenty-first Street.
They are enormous square black iron boxes, and no mat-
ter by what process the gas is made, it is cooled here, and
much reduced in bulk.
One would think that after all these operations the gas
must be ready for use; but much yet remains to be done.
From the condensers it is led to the scrubbers. These
are big black iron, cylinders — air-tight, of course — and
filled with trays. The gas slowly ascends from the very
lowest part of the cylinder. Its color, as I should have
said before, is quite black. Jets of water play constantly
upon the topmost tray of the scrubber, and they are con-
stantly splashing all the way down. As the gas ascends
it becomes cleaner and cleaner, while the descending
water grows blacker and blacker. This process rids the
gas -of all impurities, which would interfere with its
successful use in our homes as light.
Now the gas is color-
less, but it needs still
more cleaning, for it is
full of sulphur and car-
bonic acid. If it were
delivered to the consumer
in this state, its odor of
sulphuretted hydrogen
(the active principle of
aged but not infirm eggs)
would make it unbear-
able. So from the scrub-
bers the gas is driven
through pipes to the puri-
fiers. These are broad,
rather shallow boxes of
iron, each about three feet
deep and of as great floor
area as the average din-
ing-room. These boxes
are filled with fine oyster-
shell lime. There is a fine
iron, grating between the
upper and lower lime com-
partment. Here again the
gas is driven in at the bottom, and comes out at the top.
The fluid is driven in this way through all of the four
purifiers in a "set," and when it finally emerges it is
clean and pure and fit for use at last. It is driven
through either one of the big station meters, and from
there to the " delivery holders" which stand on the,other
side of Avenue A.
The station meter is a beautiful machine. It is a cyl-
inder of the finest wrought iron so deftly joined that not
one whiff of gas escapes. There is absolutely no odor of
gas in the meter-room. The meters — there are four of
them — are 18 feet 6 inches in diameter, and 18 feet (>
inches long. To describe in detail how the gas is mea-
sured would take too much time. In one word it regis-
ters the number of cubic feet of the fluid that passes
through it. Either one of the two newest station meters
registers six millions of cubic feet a day.
From the meters the gas is driven into the delivery
holders. These are the lofty domes with weighted tops
that drive the fluid through the mains, and so to wher-
ever it may be needed.
What you have been reading about is the newest style
of gas-making. Another system is in use at the East
Fourteenth Street plant — the manufacture of gas from
soft, or bituminous coal. In this place soft coal is shov-
elled into retorts by brawny fellows whose muscles would
do credit to many a professional athlete. The retorts
are arranged in "benches," or groups of six, built of
fire-clay, and shaped like long narrow bake-ovens. It
is a cheerful sight to see the laborers hurling the soft
coal into the retorts. Their shovel is no shovel at all,
but rather a long shallow trough of iron big enough to
fill the retort. The laborers throw coal into it with
smaller shovels. Two giants grasp it at each side, and
the biggest giant of all seizes the handle at the rear end.
They swing it up, and, resting the front end of the trough
on the edge of the glowing retort, push in the four hun-
dred pounds of soft coal. Just as you think the shovel
has been swallowed in the roaring flames the last giant
gives the handle a twist, turns the shovel upside down,
spreads the coal evenly in the retort, and drags the
shovel out. It is all done so swiftly that the eye can
hardly follow the motions.
The gas that arises from the retorts, around which, of
course, fierce flames are darting, is led away through the
hydraulic main and mixed with naphtha, condensed,
scrubbed, and purified, in the same way that the hard
coal or "water gas" is treated. When the gas has all
NEW YORK FROM THE RIVER AT NIGHT.
INSIDE A GAS FACTORY.
been cooked out of the soft coal, coke remains. This is
used in heating the retorts, and much of it is sold to
bakers. One of the most valuable by-products of illu-
minating gas is the ammonia which is gathered in the
scrubbers.
Perhaps it will interest you to know that fifty millions
of cubic feet of gas were used daily in this city last year,
and that one company alone sold, eight thousand mill-
ions of cubic feet of gas in 1893. An army of four thou-
sand men is employed in furnishing gas -light to this
city.
Electricity plays an important part in the lighting of
New York. One of the remarkable things about its use
is that it has largely increased the consumption of gas.
" I suppose people become so accustomed to brilliantly
lighted streets," said Chief Engineer William H. Brad-
ley to me, "that they burn three or four gas-jets at
home now where one or two used to answer very well."
The difference between the gas plant and the place
where electric light is made is as great as the difference
between an old-fashioned sloop-of-war and an up-to-date
cruiser like the New York. After spending an hour
in the Edison Electric Illuminating Company's Duane
Street plant — the largest station — you will probably go
away wondering, as I did, why some one didn't invent
the electric light generations ago. It all seems so easy,
so simple. Everything seems at the first glance to be
managed 011 the topsy-turvy plan. For example, you
find all the coal stored on the floor next to the top. It
is carried there from the receiving hoppers beneath the
sidewalk on an endless chain to which steel buckets are
attached. The operation is managed so delicately that
not one particle of annoying coal dust escapes, and you
know nothing about it until somebody tells you. The
highest floor of all is divided into offices. From the
floor below the coal in tiny lumps, called " buckwheat,"
descends through pipes or chutes to the fourth floor,
where it is automatically weighed in 100 -pound lots.
Here you find nine giant Babcock and Wilcox boilers,
each of 325 horse-power, attached to furnaces fed night
and day by rugged fellows, who handle their shovels as
accurately and nimbly as Buffalo Bill swings his rifle.
The steam is piped down to the first floor, where it is
fed to five mighty triple-expansion engines, the smallest
of 600 and the largest of 2500 horse-power. Two dyna-
mos are attached to each engine. The largest engine
runs two dynamos, each of 800-kilo-Watt's-power, or 6000
amperes. In every -day language, each dynamo fur-
nishes electric current enough for 12,000 lamps, each of
which is equivalent to 16 candles. These are the
largest dynamos in the electric-lighting business. Let
us look at one of them. Here is an enormous wheel of
brass, as tall as the highest locomotive drivmg'-wheel you
ever saw, and nearly twice as thick. As it whirls around
at a very high velocity, a series of fine copper brushes
excite it, and surrounding magnetic coils aid in the gen-
erating of the electric current in a manner that scores of
writers have tried and failed to explain. From eacli dy-
namo the current is conducted to the switchboard — a
complicated frame of brass rods and levers. Meters
register its volume and intensity.
The territory lighted from this plant extends from the
Battery to Eighth Street, and the same wires carry cur-
rent for arc and incandescent lamps. By a system of
return wires and indicators the operator at the switch-
board can tell at a glance the amount and intensity of
the current at any one of the "feeder pressure wire ter-
minals." If your office, say, is in Eighth Street, the
electrician in Duane Street can tell at any time just how
much current, and what quality of current, you are get-
ting. He knows, therefore, just how brightly your elec-
tric lights are shining.
The cellar of the Edison building- is a vast network of
cables— groups of wires covered with lead wrappings.
From here the electricity is sent out in a hundred differ-
ent directions.
374
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLT ME xvi.
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.*
BY KIRK MUXROE,
ArxiIOR OF " DOKYMATKS," " K AF I'M ATI S," " CAMPMATES," ETC.
CHAPTER JX.
PHIL'S ESKIMO MILITIA.
~I)HIL and Serge dropped very easily into the life of the
JL mission, and quickly became interested in its work.
The missionary had always found more or less trouble
with the older Indian boys, who were almost ready to
take their place in. the tribe as hunters, and so felt them-
selves rather above going to school with the children.
When Phil learned of this difficulty he conceived a plan
for overcoming it, which, with the missionary's consent,
he at once proceeded to put into execution. It was no-
thing more nor less than to form the unruly boys into a
military company. He had been an officer in his own
school company at New London, and even Serge had be-
come fairly well drilled during the year he spent there.
Phil and Serge had already formed the acquaintance
of an intelligent young Indian named Chitsah, son of
Kurilla, who had once been in the employ of an Amer-
ican exploring party, from whom he had gained a fail-
knowledge of English.
Through Chitsah, therefore, Phil issued an invitation
to all the Indian lads between the ages of twelve and
eighteen to meet him and Serge in the large school-room,
which was cleared of its furniture for the purpose that
very evening, as he wanted to teach them a new game.
About one dozen boys accepted this invitation, and a dis-
reputable, slouchy-appearing lot they were, all clad in
cast-off or well-worn garments of civilization, and look-
ing as though half ashamed of being there. As Phil
afterwards said, he expected each moment to see them
become panic-stricken and make a break for the door.
By the aid of Serge and Chitsah, who acted as interpre-
ters, Phil explained that the new game was called "sol-
diers.'' He said that all who wanted to join his company
and come to that place three nights of the week for drill,
might do so, provided each would first make for himself
a wooden gun like the one he had prepared that day, and
which he now showed them. After awhile they would
give an exhibition drill to which all their friends should
be invited, but in the mean time everything that took
place at their meetings was to be kept secret from out-
siders. Then the young drill-master put Serge through
the manual of arms and a few marching movements to
illustrate his meaning.
The boys quickly comprehended the idea, and were
charmed with it. Some of them began instinctively to
stand straight and throw back their shoulders in imita-
tion of Serge. When Phil ranged them in a line, toeing
a chalk mark drawn across the floor, and then stepping
back a few paces, called out "'Tention!" every one of
them assumed an attitude bearing some resemblance to
that of a soldier, and stood motionless. Then Phil pinned
a band of scarlet cloth about the left sleeve of the largest
boy, who was known as Big Sidorka, and told him he
iniifht wear it for one week, after which it would be
given to whichever one of the company the others should
decide to be the best drilled.
The next evening twenty boys appeared, and every
one brought with him a wooden gun, all neatly, and
some beautifully made. At this meeting they were given
their permanent positions in the ranks, taught to count
"fours" at the word of command, to hold themselves
erect, to "carry" and to "shoulder" arms. They were
also given to understand that the company was now full,
and, until after the exhibition drill, no more members
* Begun in HARPER'S YOONG PEOPLE No. 801.
would be admitted. This at once gave membership a
value that made it seem very desirable.
On this occasion, after the drill was over, Serge pro-
duced a number of illustrated books and papers contain-
in i;- pictures of soldiers, the meaning of which he explain-
ed with such success as to fully arouse the interest of his
dusky audience. As a result of this experiment the young
Russo- American, who had worked so bravely for his own
education, found himself within a week teaching an en-
thusiastic reading class, in which every member of Phil's
military company was a willing scholar.
The missionary was jubilant over these successes, and
declared that with a dozen such helpers as Phil and Serge
he could have every Indian on the Yukon in school with-
in One year.
In the mean time our lads were not neglectful of their
own affairs. With every able-bodied Indian procurable
enlisted in the work, the new building was completed by
the end of the first week, and for some days the Chi mo' s
crew found ample occupation in furnishing and storing
it. Then, too, under instructions from Serge. Chitsah,
or Kurilla, Phil spent every spare moment of daylight
in learning the art of snow-shoeing, mastering the terri-
ble Eskimo whip, and acquiring a vocabulary of dog lan-
guage.
He got many a tumble on his snow-shoes, and took
ludicrous " headers" into many a deep drift, where he
would flounder helplessly until rescued by some of the
delighted spectators of his mishaps. The long' whip, too,
tried its best to strangle him by winding in snaky coils
about his neck, or to tangle itself in bewildering coils
around his legs. As for his vocabulary, it was enough
to provoke laughter in the most sedate of sledge dogs,
and created uproarious mirth among the human occu-
pants of the Indian village. In spite of all difficulties,
Phil persevered with unabated energy, until gradually
his feet and the snow-shoes began to work together. He
actually succeeded in cracking the snakelike whip so that
the sound could be heard, and Kurilla's fine team <>f
bushy-tailed dogs began to prick up their sharp ears un-
derstandingly when he addressed them. Many a spin did
he have on the river behind this lively team, with Kuril-
la running beside the sled and cracking his mighty whip
until its reports rattled like a fire of musketry. When
at length Phil was allowed to run with the sledge instead
of occupying it as passenger, and the entire control of the
team was intrusted to him, he felt prouder, as Jalap
Coombs used to say, than was becoming to a mere mortal
man.
But his pride was quickly humbled, for ere they had
gone a mile the dogs discovered that they had no reason
to fear . his whip, and that his unintelligible commands
might be treated with contemptuous indifference. Sud-
denly Musky, the leader, who had a grudge of long stand-
ing against Amook, one of the big steer-dogs, turned like
a flash and darted furiously at his enemy. In an in-
stant the whole team was rolling in a confused mass of
yelping, snarling, snapping, and biting fur, with traces
tangled in a thousand knots, sledge going to smash, and
pandemonium reigning generally.
Phil stood by in helpless consternation, and not until
Kurilla, running up in breathless haste, flung himself
bodily into the melee, did he have the faintest hope that
any dog would emerge alive from that savage conflict.
Another time, as he thought he was meeting with com-
plete success in driving this same team, and was thor-
oughly enjoying' a ride in the sledge, the dogs suddenly
stopped short and refused to go on. They sat on their
haunches, with wagging tails, and looked at Phil with
pleased expressions, as though rejoicing over the dis-
covery that they needn't work unless they chose. And
there they sat, in spite of all their driver's efforts to move
them, until he was in despair, when with equal sudden-
APKIL 2, 1895
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
375
ness they sprang up and clashed away home with the
empty sledge, leaving him to follow on foot as hest he
might.
His first real journey by dog sledge was to the Eskimo
village of Makagamoot, fifteen miles down the river, and
was taken in company with the missionary, who was ac-
customed to visit this place once a month. They went
in two sledges, with Chitsah as runner, and Phil took
with him a small lot of goods. For these Gerald Hamer
wished him to procure several suits of fur clothing, in
making which the Eskimos greatly excel their Indian
neighbors.
Makagamoot was a much more thrifty village than its
next neighbor, though at first sight its eight or ten large
houses looked only like so many great inverted bowls or
hillocks of snow.
Phil and the missionary received an uproarious wel-
come, emphasized by a great firing of guns at this quaint
Eskimo village, and were conducted to the kashga or
principal building, which is at once town-hall, hotel, bath-
house, and general assembly-room for the settlement, as
well as the winter residence of all unmarried men.
So great was the heat in this place, so stifling its at-
mosphere, and so horrible its odors that poor Phil gasped
for breath on entering it. In vain did he attempt to par-
take of some of the delicacies pressed upon their guests by
the hospitable~natives. Raw seal's liver, strips of rein-
deer fat, dried fish, salmon roe that had been kept for
many weeks in a hole in the ground, and caribou bones
split so that the marrow might be sucked from them, suc-
ceeded each other in rapid succession. Phil was hungry,
but not hungry enough for any of these.
Nor could he force himself to remain in that terrible
atmosphere long enough to witness the wedding of an
Eskimo girl with a white man, a Russian ex-employe of
the old fur company, which was the first duty the mis-
sionary was called upon to perform. The mortified lad
was sorry to thus disappoint his kind-hearted and well-
meaning entertainers; but there was no help for it. So
with swimming head and uneasy stomach he made a
break for the place of exit.
CHAPTER X.
A SAD ROMANCE OF THE WILDERNESS.
" How can human beings endure such vile disgusting
smells?" Phil exclaimed, as the missionary rejoined him,
a little later, outside.
"They are not vile and disgusting to them," laughed
the other. " If noticed at all, they are extremely agree-
able. You must remember that the atmosphere which
you find so unendurable is that to which the Eskimo has
always been accustomed. As soon as he is born his en-
tire body is liberally smeared with rancid oil, and to the
day of his death this coating of grease, frequently re-
newed, affords his best protection against cold and
wet.
"A whiff of cologne will make him ill, and flowers that
to us are sweet-scented are to him unendurable. Thus
you see the sense of smell, like all other senses, can be
educated to adapt itself to any conditions, and, happily
for the Eskimo, he finds nothing objectionable in the
nauseous odors surrounding him."
" That is so," reflected Phil, " for now I remember that
the Aleuts of the Pribyloff Islands could not understand
what I meant when I complained of the awful stench
rising from the decomposing bodies of thousands of seals
lying at their very doors."
With the aid of the missionary and Chitsah, Phil traded
off the small stock of goods he had brought with him
for half a dozen parkas, or outer garments, made
from reindeer - skin, with the hair still attached, as
many pairs of winter boots, and a number of other arti-
cles made from seal skin. Each of the parkas had a hood
at the back, which could be drawn up over the head.
The edge of this hood was trimmed with wolf-skin taken
from the back, where the hair is longest. When the hood
is in use these long hairs surround the wearer's face with
a bristling fringe that affords a surprising amount of pro-
tection from driving snow and icy winds.
The tarbossa, or Eskimo boots, were made of the skin
of reindeer legs on which the hair is short and stiff, and
were provided with soles of seal-skin, turned up over toes
and heels, where they are gathered in little puckers t.hat
the native women chew or shape with their teeth. The
upper end of one of these boots is tied about the wearer's
knee, while a second set of thongs at the ankle holds it
in place at that point.
Besides these things,Phil purchased a number of Eskimo
wolf-traps, the cruel ingenuity and extreme simplicity of
which exceeded anything of the kind he had ever seen.
They were merely bits of stiff whalebone about one foot
long, with sharpened points, folded into the smallest
possible compass, and confined in that position by a lash-
ing of sinew. For use this harmless-looking affair is
thrust into a piece of meat, which is frozen and thrown
down on the snow. Mr. Wolf swallows meal, trap and
all, with suc-h relish that he at once searches for another
bit just like it. In the mean time the trap has begun its
deadly work in his stomach. Its sinew lashing softens,
weakens, and finally breaks under the steady strain of
the com pressed whalebone. Thus released the bone springs
into its original shape, thrusts its sharp points into the
wrilf's vitals, and often kills him instantly. If not at
once, death ensues in a very short time, and when the
thrifty Eskimo cuts up his wolf he generally recovers his
trap and prepares it to be set again.
The sledge-party from Aiivik had started from there
before daylight of that morning with a view to return-
ing the same night. So as soon as the missionary had
visited every house in Makagamoot and Phil had con-
cluded his trading, the dogs, "which Chitsah had been
obliged to guard all this time from an overwhelm-
ing onslaught by their Eskimo cousins, were headed
homeward, and the return journey was begun. Chitsah
drove the leading sledge, which was laden with the sev-
eral hundred pounds of dried fish that the missionary
had received as a wedding fee, the missionary drove the
other, which bore Phil's purchases, and the Yankee lad
trudged beside him.
" Are you often called on to marry two people of dif-
ferent races?" asked the latter, who was thinking over
the events of their recent visit.
"No, not often; though it is not uncommon for white
men, who have become permanent settlers in the coun-
try, to marry native women, and I once married a ('hi
nese man to an Eskimo girl. My strangest experience in
that line, though, was gained some years ago when I first
came to this country. Wishing to familiarize myself
with the entire valley, I took a trip on the Company's
steamer to the head of navigation. We stopped to trade
at every Indian camp, and at one of these, near Fort
Yukon, a couple came on board to get married. The
man was a tall good-looking fellow, but a full-blooded
Cree Indian from the distant interior. His companion
was also in Indian costume; but the moment I looked at
her face I saw, to my amazement, that she was a white
girl. She was quite young, but had the saddest fan- I
think I ever saw. I remonstrated with her against the
step she proposed to take, but in a perfectly calm \
and speaking most excellent English, though with a
Scotch accent, she assured me that she was well aware
of what she was about to do, and that it was her firm re-
' solve to marry the Indian who stood beside her. They
both gave the name of McLeocl, and under that name
I married them.
376
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
'CAP'N PHIL'S FADDER GONE UP RIVER! YAAS, HE FADDER
" After the ceremony was over she told me her story.
It seems that, in spite of her fair skin, she was a half-
breed daughter of the Scotch factor of a Hudson Bay
trading post and his Indian wife. When she was thir-
teen years old her father sent her to Scotland to be edu-
cated. She made her long trip by canoe and sledge from
the distant post where she was born to York Factory on
Hudson Bay in safety, and there took passage in the
bitter words. He was not allowed to
see, or even communicate with, the girl,
but was ordered to leave the country
at once.
"There was nothing to do but obey.
The factor was also the only magistrate
of a vast region, and ruled it with a
rod of iron. None could dwell within
his jurisdiction without his knowledge,
none obtain employment without his
consent. The forts held all the neces-
saries of life, and none could be pur-
chased elsewhere. A band of Indians
was ordered to convey the unfortunate
youth several hundreds of miles away
and there leave him. This they did,
but what afterwards became of him I
do not know.
"By some means the girl learned of
her lover's visit to the fort, of his harsh
reception, and of his cruel banishment.
The knowledge broke her heart. She
became dejected and miserable, and
spent her days in weeping. At this her
father became so furious that he sent
for the man to whom he had promised
her to come and marry her at once.
He furthermore upbraided his daughter
in the presence of all the employes of the
fort, and said such cruel things about
the man -she loved that, declaring she
could bear it 110 longer, she ran out,
mounted her pony, and fled to her mo-
ther's tribe. There she promised to
marry a young Indian who had long ad-
niired her, and at once set out with his
family for the Yukon, where they hoped
^^^^^ to find a priest. As it happened, I was
the first whom they encountered, and
the result I have already told."
"What became of them after that?" asked Phil, who
was deeply interested in this sad romance.
"I do not know. They dared not return to the terri-
tory governed by her father, and the last I heard of them
they were living by themselves somewhere on the Upper
Yukon, where the man was making a precarious liveli-
hood by trapping. I tried to induce them to come and
make their home at the mission; but poor Ellen McLeod
Company's annual ship for London. From there she answered that she should never again dwell among peo-
was sent to Edinburgh, where for five years she lived
with relatives and attended school. Then she received a
note of recall from her father, and was obliged to retrace
pie of her father's race."
"Poor girl!" sighed Phil, who had a very tender
heart for the troubles of others. " I wonder if we should
the wearisome journey over thousands of miles of sea and have any chance of meeting them if we took our trip up
wilderness to her home in the far Northwest. It was the river? By-the-way, sir, don't you think Serge and I
terrible for her to leave the dear friends and pleasant as-
sociations of so many years, and hardest of all to separate
from the young Scotchman who had won her heart, and
might be trusted to make that trip this winter?"
"I should not care to advise you to do it," replied the
missionary, "knowing' its dangers as I do. And cer-
Ler promise to marry him as soon as lie should come to tainly you could not go without Captain Hamer's con-
claim her in her own home. While she returned to Hud- sent, for you would require a more expensive outfit than
son Bay in a Company's ship, he was forced to travel by any one save he could furnish."
way of New York and through the States.
" When the girl reached her home she immediately told
"I suppose so," admitted Phil, ruefully; "but I can't
help thinking that something will turn up to make it
her parents of her engagement, and that her lover was seem best to let us go."
even then on his way to marry her. To her dismay her They were by this time nearing Anvik, and though the
father flew into a violent rage, informed her that he had sun had long since set, the river was flooded with moon-
already selected a husband for her in the person of one
of the Company's employes stationed at Fort Liard, and
declared that she must marry him at once. In vain did
the girl plead with him and endeavor to change his cruel
determination, and in vain did the mother take her part.
The tyrannical father only grew the more obstinate, and
when, after months of weary wanderings," the Scotch
lover appeared at the fort, he was driven from it with
light. All at once a dark figure darted out from the
shore, and came running toward them. As>it drew near,
Kurilla's well-known voice shouted, breathlessly:
" Cap'n Phil's fadder gone up river! Yaas, he fadder!"
"My father!" cried Phil. "It can't be. You must
be crazy, for my father is thousands of miles from here."
" True, all same. You fadder, yaas."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
AUNT SELINA'S MISTAKE.
BY FLORENCE HALLOWEI-L HOYT.
CHAPTER III.
morning- following the discovery of the loss of the
JL diamond ring, Miss Selina undertook to give the big
ball closet on the second floor a thorough cleaning. She
had intended doing it for some time, but had not "got
"round to it," as she expressed it. Now she was glad of
something to do that would occupy her mind, for she
wanted to forget — if she could — for a time, at least, the
unpleasant episode of the previous clay.
Becky had stuck steadily to her assertion that she
hadn't seen the ring since the day of her arrival. In
vain had Miss Selina insisted that she must have taken
it; that there could be no doubt whatever about the
matter. The child had only glared at her furiously, and
stuck to her assertion of innocence.
Then Grandma French had taken her off alone into
the dim and solemn parlor, and, kissing her tenderly, had
begged her to be Grandma's own dear, good little girl,
and tell where she'd hidden Lida Ann's diamond ring.
'• If you'll tell pretty, now, an' not act so stubborn, you
shall have that little wax peach on my mantel, V there
slia'n't a soul ever speak a word more to you 'bout the
ring long's you live," said the dear old lady, putting her
arm about the child's shoulders.
Becky's anger dissolved under the kind words and the
tender caress. She burst into tears, and covered her con-
vulsed little face with her apron.
" I never teched hit, Graii'maw. I 'ain't never laid
eyes on it sence the fust day I come hyah. I wisht I
did hev hit. I'd give hit to yo' quicker'n scat."
" Well, who could have taken it, then, Becky?"
" I do' know; I wisht I did," answered Becky. "An'
I wisht yo'd tell Tobias ter gear up V tek me on back
ter the mounting. Old Mis' Twiller she'd lem me stay
along her '11' the boys."
Grandma sighed.
"I don't want to send you back, Becky. The Twillers
ain't the kind of folks you ought to live with. If I only
knew what had 'come of that diamond ring!"
"I never teched hit. I ain't no liar, 'u' I ain't no
thief. My mammy she raised me urp ter — " and then
the tears followed so fast, and the sobs tore their way so
gaspingly from the overcharged little breast, that the rest
of the sentence was left unfinished.
Grandma French was nonplussed. " I'm beginning to
think she didn't take it, after all, Selina," she said, after
giving an account of the interview in the parlor.
"I expected you to come 'round to sayin' that," an-
swered her daughter, in. a voice of smothered indignation.
"You're so soft-hearted, mother, it's a wonder you ain't
melted clear away long ago. That child took that ring.
There ain't nobody else could have took it. She was
just mad 'cause I cut her hair off, '11' she wanted to take
her spite out on Lidy Ann. You let me 'tend to her.
We've got to get that ring back, 'n' there's only one way
to do it— shut her up till she's willin' to tell !"
Grandma, bewildered and wearied, sighed and submit-
ted. And so Becky was locked up in the spare chamber,
and put on a diet of bread and water.
Dinah, who was delegated to feed the little prisoner,
came down from her first visit to the spare chamber with
an account of her reception which made poor old Mrs.
French turn pale.
"She done frowed de brade spong' in my face," said
the old black woman, " V outn de winder went de tin
cup of water, kersplash! She's jes nachelly bad, dat
chile is. De Lawd on'y knows whar she's gwinter fotch
up 'fo' mawnin'. She's trompin' roun' now like she was
plumb crazy. Yo'-alls come outn de po'ch 'n' see dat
busted winder."
THE HOUNDS SEEMED GLAD HELP LIAD COME.
378
HAMPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
They all three went out and saw the broken window.
Grandma French was too much grieved and shocked to
say a word; but it was rage which tied the tongue of
Miss Selina.
" Whynt yo'-alls sen' dat chile ter de po' farm? Dey'd
tek de uppity ways outn her dar," said Dinah. "If yo'-
alls spec dat —
"Oh, for the land's sake, hush, Dinah !" interrupted
Miss Selina. "You're enough to drive a person crazy.
We ain't goin' ter send the child away till we get that
diamond ring back."
"Yo'-alls woon nebah see Lidy Ann's di'niun' ring no
moah !" rejoined Dinah. " Yo' res' yo' heart on dat."
Miss Selina wondered, as she dragged things out of the
hall closet, whether Becky had done any damage in the
spare chamber other than breaking the window-glass.
Once she crept softly to the door and listened. She heard
a low pitiful moaning at intervals, and, peeping through
the keyhole, saw the child lying on the floor, her face
hidden in her arms.
Miss Selina's heart softened a little. She felt her an-
ger melt away. After all, the child had some good
points. She seemed affectionate, was unselfish, and very
obliging. She never pouted or made an excuse when
asked to go on an errand.
That low moaning was certainly very piteous.
" But she needn't stay in there no longer 'n she has a
mind to," muttered Miss Selina, as she went back to the
closet. "I'd let her out in a minute if she'd tell what
she's done with Lidy Ann's ring." She stood looking into
the closet a moment, then went to the "head of the back
stairway. " Dinah," she called, " you come up here, '11'
bring a kitchen-chair along with you. I want to get
down all the boxes 'fore I begin to clean."
Dinah came groaning up with the chair. "I feels po'-
ly dis inawnin'," she complained. " I cyan't skercely
tote dis lieah chair. I's got de mis'ry in my side."
"Oh, you're always feeling poorly!" rejoined Miss Se-
lina, as she put the chair in the closet and stepped upon
it. "I've got so used to your grunting and groaning
that I don't pay attention to it any more. Stand there,
now, 'n' take these boxes as I hand 'em down. I reckon
we can burn the half of "em."
The misery in Dinah's side was perhaps accountable
for her slow obedience, and she missed receiving the first
box handed down. Crash! it went to the floor, and the
contents were scattered in every direction.
"For goodness sakes, Dinah, mind what you're
about!" scolded Miss Selina. " In all my days I never
saw — What's that lyiii' over there by the banisters?
My soul, if it ain't Lidy Ann's diamond ring!"
"Hit's de ring, sho's yo's bawn!" said Dinah. "Hit
rolled outn dis heah box. I seen hit go glitterin' 'long
when de cover done bust off."
"Well, it's just the mercy of Providence we found it!
Now what's that onery child goin' to say, I'd like to
know? Of course she thought this closet 'd be the last
place we'd ever think of lookin'." She hurried into her
mother's room, with the ring in her hand, shaking with
nervous excitement. "I could see all along you didn't
quite believe Becky'd took it, mother," she said, after tell-
ing where the ring had been found. " I reckon you'll
say now that I knew what I was talkin' about."
Poor old Mrs. French could doubt the child's guilt no
longer. Together she and Selina went to the spare
chamber and unlocked the door.
"Don't be too hard on her, Selina," whispered the old
lady. "Eemember, she warn't raised the way Lida Ann
was."
Becky was still lying on the floor, and she didn't move
when the door was opened. Neither did she answer
when Miss Selina spoke to her. Miss Selina took her by
one arm and pulled her up. The child's face was stained
with tears, her eyes swollen with weeping. She looked
exhausted. Not a morsel of food had passed her lips
since breakfast of the previous day. The bed was not
disturbed — evidence sufficient that she had spent the
night on the floor.
"Here's Lidy Ann's ring, Becky," said Miss Selina,
triumph in her voice. "I suppose you won't have the
face now to say you didn't take it."
Becky lifted her heavy eyes, and regarded Miss Selina
dully. Her lips moved stiffly. "I never teched hit,"
she repeated. "I never sawn hit alter that fust day I
come hyah."
"You mean to say you didn't put it in that box in the
hall closet?"
" I never put hit thar. I 'ain't never teched hit," an-
swered the child.
Miss Selina stared at her.
" Well," she exclaimed, " for stubbornness you beat all
I ever see, old's I am! But I ain't goin' to argue with
you. We know you stole the ring, and we know ivhy
you stole it. When you stopped so sudden your fightin'
'bout my cuttin' olf your hair I 'lowed you was un to-
somethiii'."
"I let yo' cut hit 'cause yo' said hit pestered her"-
with a motion of her head toward the old lady in the
doorway — "to keep hit cuyrled. She's been the on'yest
one in this hyah house what's spoke civil ter me.
Yo'-alls don' Jurv me, 'n' you don' want me hyah.
But I ain't b'arin' spite ter noan o' yo'. I never teched
Lida Ann's di'mund ring."
Miss Selina set her lips and said no more. After a
moment of severe scrutiny of the little culprit she went
out, pulling her mother after her.
"The next, thing you'd be kissin' 'n' cryin' over her,
mother, if I let you stay," she said, as she closed the
door, locked it, and dropped the key into the pocket of
her apron. "You never did have any backbone about
children. I ain't blamin' you, but just stating the plain
fact. Lida Ann would 'a' been spoiled to death but for
me. As to this Becky, I'm goin' to send Tobias over to-
the poor -farm to tell Dug Marsh to come after her.
There's no use talkin', she's goin'1. I ain't goin' to have
poor little Lidy Ann 'sociatin' with girls that go rouii'
stealin' diamond rings."
Nothing more was done to the hall closet. Miss Selina
said she didn't have the heart to go on with it, and she
wouldn't know a minute's peace till that child was out
of the house.
But Becky spared her the ti'ouble of sending her away.
When Dinah went upstairs at noon and opened the door
of the spare chamber she found it unoccupied. The poor
little wild bird of the mountain had flown.
"Got outer dat busted winder!" said Dinah. "She
done took de sheets offn de bade ; en dey's hangiii' outer
de winder now, all twis'ed up like she done mek a rope.
It's de bawn truf ! Yo' gwiue outu de po'ch 'n' see fo'
yo'se'fs."
"She's gone back to the mountain to live with them
Twillers, I reckon," said Miss Selina. " Lazy, no-account
set, all of them. Well, they're welcome to her, dear
knows. Mother, you needn't take on so. You know
well's I do that this house has been all tore up ever since
that child come into it. We're well rid of her."
"Poor little soul!" sobbed the old lady. "I'm afraid
we didn't treat her just right someway, Selina. She
was a soft-hearted little creetur, for all she was so fiery."
CHAPTER IV.
WHEN Tobias was sent the day after Becky's flight to
bring Lida Ann home he was cautioned to say nothing
to her of the events which had transpired during her ab-
sence. So Lida Ann's first question after greeting her
grandmother and aunt was, "Where's Becky?"
APRIL 2, 1895.
HAMPER'S YOUJMti PEOPLE.
37»
Her grandmother's face grew solemn at, once, and her
hand sought her handkerchief. "Poor little Becky!"
she said. " She's gone, Licly Ann.''
" To the poor-house?"
" \Ve don't know where she's gone," cut in MissSelina
before her mother could answer. " But you won't see
her here again, that's certain. She isn't the kind of girl
we want you to 'sociate with, Lidy Ann. I cut her hail-
off the day you left, 'n' she tried to pay me oft' by takin'
your di'niond ring outer mother's jewel-box. There, now,
you needn't to turn so white! We found it — '
"In the hall closet — in a box," burst out Lida Ann.
" Oh. Aunt Selina! I put it there my own self."
" You did;"
" Yes'm; I — I wanted it to be safe while I was gone,"
answered Lida Ann, beginning to cry. "I was afraid
Becky migh't take it. Grandma never kept the dresser-
drawer locked. I didn't reckon she'd miss it ; 'n' I
thought that box in the hall closet was a good place to
hide it. Oh! oh!"
MissSelina sank into the nearest chair. She looked
stunned. "You'd o lighter have a good whippin', miss,"
she said at last, when she had recovered sufficiently to
speak. "We kept Becky locked up in the spare cham-
ber for the best part o' two days, 'n' she didn't have no-
thin' to eat but dry bread."
"And she cried herself sick," said Grandma French,
down whose wrinkled cheeks the tears were trickling-.
"Lidy Ann, you'd ought to go down on your bended
knees an' ask that child's pardon."
"I come back meanin' to do better by her," sobbed
Lida Ann. " Grandma Darrow she made me promise I
would. An' I brought her a pair of doves. They're out
in the wagon now."
"Doves!" cried Miss Selina, sniffing. "I reckon a
pair o' doves ain't goin' to make up to Becky for all she
went through about your diamond ring."
"We must get her back, Selina," said her mother. " I
wonder if the good Lord's goin' to forgive us for all we
made that poor little creetur suffer."
"Don't, mother," said Miss Seliiia. "I'm 'most sick
over it as 'tis. Lidy Ann, you go out 'n' tell Tobias to
put the horse right back in the shafts. 'N' he's got to
drive; he knows where them Twillers lives."
"Can't I go along?" asked Lida Ann. "I want to
tell her about the doves."
"Yes, you c'n go. Mother, you ain't goin'; that
mount'n road's too rough."
"I don't care — I'm goin'," answered the old lady.
" We've got to start right with Rebecca this time, Selina.
Poor little soul! She sha'n't say again that none of us
love her."
Within fifteen minutes they were on their way to the
mountain. There was a rough ascent of half a mile be-
fore the Twillers' cabin was readied. It was a rough
forlorn-looking structure, with a door-yard littered with
trash of every kind. It was surrounded by a rail-fence,
over which half a dozen hounds sprang, barking and
whining as the wagon stopped. A woman dressed in
homespun, with a short-stemmed clay pipe in her mouth,
came to the open door. She wore a black calico sun-
bonnet, and her feet were bare. Over one arm hung a
patch-work bedspread of the pattern known as "rising
sun."
"Morniu', lady," called out Tobias.
" Morniu' yo'se'f,stranger," rejoined the lady. " Won't
yo'-alls 'light 'n' come in? You, Tige, stop thet barkin'!
They won't, noaii o' 'em, tech yo', strangers."
" We've come to see if Becky's here," said Miss Selina.
" Becky? No, I 'ain't sawn her." The woman came
out to the fence and leaned upon it, cuffing at the dogs.
"I reckon yo'-alls the folks she went ter live with down
ter Fairville?"
" Yes," answered Miss Selina, " and she ran away yes-
terday. We reckoned she'd be here."
" No; we;uns 'ain't sawn her. I reckon she's over .ter
her house ef she's on the mounting at tall."
" Where is her house?"
" Down nigh the cove. Yo' can't miss hit ef yo' keeps
along this hyah. road. I reckon she's thai-. I 'ain't sawn
them two houii's o' hern this niornin'. I reckon she
towed of 'em buck 'ithoutn we-uns knowin' of hit. I'd go
'long o' yo', but thai1 hain't no one hyah but me, 'n' I'm
b'iliii' enyuins 'n' greeus. Ef yo'-all's a mind ter light
'n' strip yo' hats I'll make yo' welcome till pap 'n' the
boys come."
" Oh, thank you ; but I reckon we can find the place,"
said Miss Selina, and Tobias drove on.
The cabin in which Becky had lived was smaller than
that occupied by the Twillers. It stood close to the road
at the foot of a little hill. There were two small rooms,
divided by an open porch. It had a desolate look, with
the tall pines about it, and there was no sign of life.
But the door of one of the rooms stood open, and Miss
Selina stepped up on the porch and looked in. She stood
there a moment without moving; then she turned her
head and nodded to her mother. " She's here," she
called. Then she disappeared within the room.
When old Mrs. French and Lida Ann followed they
found her sitting on the floor, Becky's head in her lap.
Two yellow and black hounds were lying close by. They
wagged their tails and whined, looking affectionately at
Miss Selina. They seemed glad help had come.
Becky was moving her head from one side to the
other, muttering and whispering incoherently; her cheeks
were scarlet with fever; her bright dark eyes gazed with-
out recognition into the faces of those around her.
Lida Ann began to cry.
"Hush up, now," said her aunt. "There's no sense
in cry in'. We've got to get her home quick's we can. I
reckon I c'u carry her."
She lifted the child and walked slowly out to the
wagon, the heavy little head lying on her shoulder, the
whispering lips close to her ear, the hot cheek pressing
her own faded one. The hounds followed, watching her
every movement jealously.
" Wliut yo' g winter do 'bout dese heah houn's?" asked
Tobias.
"Oh, they'll go on back to Twiller's, I reckon," an-
swered Miss Selina. ' ' I 'ain't got time now to think o'
houn's.'"
"Oh, Aunt Selina, can't we take 'em along?" begged
Lida Ann. "Becky 'd be so glad to have 'em; V we
'ain't got any dogs, you know."
" Well, I 'ain't any objection. Lift 'em in, Tobias."
And Tobias obeyed, well pleased. Miss Selina's an-
tipathy to dogs heretofore had been a great cross to him.
Long afterwards Miss Selina told her mother that it was
during that long drive down the mountain, when her
arms ached with their heavy burden and the scarlet lips
never ceased that low whispering in her ear, that she be-
gan to love poor little Becky.
She was a kind and tender nurse during the long ill-
ness which reduced the poor child to a shadow of her
former self, and she actually shed tears of joy and relief
when Becky was pronounced out of danger.
As for Lida Ann, there was nothing she wasn't ready
to do for Becky. She sat by the bedside during Becky's
convalescence for hours at a time, read aloud every
story-book she possessed, cut out paper dolls, made neck-
laces of melon seeds, and drew crude pictures on a slate.
Her best doll was turned over to Becky, and she made no
complaint when her precious music-box, the gift of Cousin
Nathan, was broken by a fall from the bed.
"It c'n be mended real easy," she said, cheerfuMy.
" Anyway, Becky, you weren't to blame for its fallin' oil'."
380
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
" I pushed bit 'thout seem' hit war thar," said Becky.
" Well, I ought to have looked out for it better."
" Yo's mighty good ter me now, Lidy Ann.'' And
Becky smiled, her wasted little band laid on Lida Ann's
arm. "I reckon yo' won't keer now when Gran'maw
says I'm yo' little sister."
Lida Ann answered with a hug and a tender kiss.
"Lida Ann ain't like the same girl," Miss Selina said
frequently. "I've 'most forgot she ever had any mean
ways."
"I reckon we ' builded better'n we knew' when we
took Becky," Grandma said. " An' if she ain't a dear,
sweet child, then there never was one."
Becky was almost as strong and well as ever by
September, and entered on her first term at the county
school. She was so bright that she soon learned to
correct all her most glaring errors of speech, and her
vivacity, unselfishness, and beauty made her a general
favorite. Her hair was never cut again ; and by the time
it had grown long enough to be troublesome she was
competent to take care of it herself.
" Hit look lak dem gals is jes iiatchelly wropped up in
one ernudder," observed Dinah, one morning, as she
stood at the kitchen door and watched Lida Ann and
Becky walk off to school swinging their lunch-basket
between them. "Mighty lucky thing dat di'mun' ring
was done losted dat time."
"Hush!" said Miss Selina. "Don't you never men-
tion Lidy Ann's di'mund ring again long's you live. I
can't endure even to think of it."
A SEA EPISODE.
(The chief points in the following short narrative are true.)
I WAS second officer on board the Xanthe, one of the
swiftest ocean greyhounds of the day — a steamer of
some eight thousand tons, and a popular boat.
We had had a calm and uneventful voyage from
<J>ueeustown, and were making for the port of New York
on a starry but dark night when I paced the deck with
my Captain and the third officer, looking forward to a
short but pleasant spell on land.
As seven bells rang the Captain turned in for the night,
and shortly after the third officer retired, leaving me alone
to pace up and down the bridge.
Eight bells sounded and the watch changed, I remain-
ing on the bridge, as agreed.
I rang two bells, and very soon heard the answering-
ring of the great fore -bell, followed by the "All's
well," repeated twice by the watch. Hardly had the
sound died out when there came a thud, and the huge
boat staggered for a moment. The watch gave me the
alarm, and I ordered some men forward to examine the
bow. So slight, however, had been the shock that neither
the Captain, the passengers, nor the off watches had
awakened. Fearing we had run down some small craft,
we put back — for our impetus had carried us nearly half
a mile — to rescue any one who might need succor. We
saw nothing, however, by which to guess the nature of
the object with which we had collided, and for safety I
called the joiner and ordered him to examine the holds.
He soon returned, and reported " Number one, 3 inches;
number two, 5 inches; number three, 2 inches."
"You are certain?" I said.
" Shure, sur."
" Very well," I answered. " Now go back again ; mea-
sure again, and write it down on a chip of wood if you
have no paper."
"Ay, sur," replied the joiner, a true Irishman.
While he was gone I leant over the rail and looked at
the seething water, for we were speeding on at our usual
rate. As I looked the water seemed nearer than usual ;
this made me a little anxious, but I knew it might well
be fancy. As I imagined this, I saw the joiner returning
in the dark, and behind him two men bearing a log.
" What's the meaning of this?" I asked, astonished.
"Shure, sur, it wur the smallest chip I cud git, sur."
" What do you make it?"
"Number one, 3 inches; number two, 5 inches; num-
ber three, 2 inches."
I felt relieved at this, and passed over the Irishman's
joke, for which I might have reprimanded him under
other circumstances.
As I again looked at the water I thought a second time
that it was nearer. I called the joiner, and told him I
would myself examine the holds, and that he must go
with me, for I was beginning to feel uneasy. Taking
the measure, we went to my own cabin, through the floor
of which the second hold was reached through a plug.
I smoke a great deal even on board ship, and have a
habit of throwing unused matches when thoroughly ex-
tinguished on the lloor. Any one in lifting the carpet
to get at the plug must have rolled the matches to one
side, and left them lying almost in a straight line. What
was my surprise to see them scattered about just as I had
thrown them down.
The sweat broke out on my brow as I turned angrily
on the joiner, and cried, "You scoundrel, you never
measured them !"
Tearing up the carpet I started to unscrew the plug,
but had only half succeeded when the head shot up, graz-
ing my face, and a stream of water squirted up to the
ceiling. The hold was overflowing!
It took only a few seconds to turn out all hands and
order both port and starboard boats to be manned ; a few
more to wake the Captain and order the steamer turned
to the shore full speed ahead.
The Captain hurried out pale and somewhat agitated,
and exclaimed, testily, when I had explained all in a few
words, " Why didn't you wake me before?"
At this point the engineer came up on to the deck, and
turning to the Captain, said, coolly: "Shall I stop the
engines, sir, or put on full speed ahead? In another ten
minutes the ship will be full of water and will blow up.
The iron pegs in the walls of the engine-room are being
pressed out of the walls, and I've got two men hammer-
ing them in again as fast as they can."
Though the engineer was composed, I saw the Captain
turn livid, and as he hurried to his cabin, having ordered
full speed, the ship plunged heavily as though water-
logged.
I quickly sent orders down to the passengers, and the
stewardesses were sent to rouse and calm the women.
All this took but a few minutes, and presently the
Captain reappeared, and there was a cold deadly look
in his eyes. As he approached lie suddenly raised his
arm, and I found myself gazing down the barrel of a
revolver shining in the moon's rays.
" Barton," he said, " you know what this means to us.
The ship is doomed and lost; we had better both die;
first you, then I."
I had fought in the civil war of 1862. I was present
at the bombardment of Alexandria, and I had once been
forced to challenge one of the finest fencers in the Italian
army to fists or ship's cutlasses in a barn — a challenge he
repudiated, preferring to run me through with a sickly
rapier; but never in my life did I feel such sensations as
I did that awful minute when I saw the wild, perhaps
insane, eyes of the Captain looking into mine. With a
great effort I composed myself, and then burst forth into
such a persuasive oration that my superior officer replaced
the revolver in his pocket, and turning, watched the bow
as it lifted and fell heavily. Then came my chance,
and my shortness of stature helped me. Sneaking up
behind him, with a quick movement I drew the revolver
APRIL 2, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
381
from his pocket, and jumped back, saying, "Now, Cap-
tain, I am not going to die just yet, nor you either."
Meantime the boats were ready, and taking an anxious
look into the darkness towards the coast, I hurried down
the companion way to see that all the passengers were 011
deck. One old lady, a Mrs. Vetter, about seventy years
of age, was the only one below, and wrapping a cloak
around her I left her in the passageway, telling her to
wait till I returned, assuring her that 1 would do so.
Soon I finished the round of my search, and hurried on
deck, forgetful in the excitement of Mrs. Vetter.
The boats were manned, and I heard the Captain — now
much calmer — ordering the officers to shoot the first man
that got in. "Women and children first."
Then I saw a huge stoker spring into a boat, seize a
woman, throw her out on to the deck, and take her place.
Then followed a
scene which is
deeply embedded
in my memory
— a scene ghastly
and terrible. The
woman, as she
fell to the deck,
screamed to hea-
ven for help, and
the young officer
commanding the
boat saw and
heard. Turning
on the man he
ordered him out
of the boat. The
stoker, a powerful
fellow, refused to
go ; the officer
had no revolver,
but by his side
was a fire - axe ;
this he seized, and
brandishing it
over the fellow's
head, ordered him
a second and a
third time to get
out, but the stoker
only grinned and
said, sneeringly :
" Yer would,
would yer ? I
knows that yer
darn't."
Then an awful
look came into
the young officer's
face, and the moonbeams danced on the steel axehead as it
descended and crashed through the skull under it.
Then all was ready, when I gave an exclamation of
horror; the ship was plunging- heavily in her last agony,
and I had forgotten old Mrs. Vetter. Some of the boats
were already in the water when I dashed down the com-
panion way in the darkness. She was gone. I searched,
but in vain. Then coming on deck, I leant half paralyzed
against an empty boat, one that had got jammed and was
not being taken. Then I felt a stinging slap in the face,
and heard a weak voice — "You go away, this big boat's
mine." It was Mrs. Vetter; poor old lady, in her sim-
plicity she had crawled on deck and got into the only
boat that was certain to go down.
I gave a cry of joy as I seized her and placed her and
myself safely in a boat.
In twenty or twenty-five minutes we were all on land,
all except the stoker. T. S. J.
HOW DO YOU LIKE US, JIMMIEBOY ?" ASKED THE LION
JIMMIEBOY AXD THE ANIMALS.
BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.
If was uight ami tlie Zoo was closed. lu the centre of the
large tent iu which the animals lived a single electric light
burned dimly, casting weird shadows over the cages of the aui-
iniils now resting after a hard day's work. How small Jimmie-
boy had managed to get there nobody knows — not even he him-
self, nor is he to-day exactly able to make up his mind as to liow
he ever managed to escape. At any rate he was there alone, audr
strange to say, he felt very much at home. The animals, tierce
as they were, frightened him not at all, and he patted the huge
lion on his head, and poked his fingers into the leopard's spots
just as though they were a couple of kittens, and they smiled
benignly upon him.
" How do you like us, Jimmieboy ?" asked the Lion, looking at
him affectionately out of his great big eyes. "Don't you think
we are altogether the h'uest collection of animals you ever saw V
" Yes, indeed,"
said Jimmieboy.
"You are even finer
than the pictures of
you out on the
fences, and I never
expected you'd be
that."
" Well it's pretty
hard to live up to-
those pictures," said
the .Bear with a
yawn that gave Jim-
mieboy au idea of
how easy it would
be for a bear to
swallow a man at
one gulp. "There's-
oue picture of me
particularly that I
wish they would)
take in. You know
it, I guess — the one-
where I'm shown
up as squeezing
three men, a boyr
four guns, and a
bowie - knife to
death. I don't like
that picture, and I
nevrr did. I ilou't
remember ever to-
have squeezed more
thau two ineu and a
boy at one time, and
wheu people come
in here expecting to
see me hugging
three men and a boy,.
and don't, they are-
disappointed with
me. As the Hyena —
who always laughs
at his own jokes — would say ' they can't bear me.' "
" They dou't give you enough meu for it, auyhow, do they I"
asked the Monkey.
"No," returned the Bear. "But the people dou't know that."
" Why dou't you tell them ?" asked Jimmieboy. "•Theii they'd*
know."
"It's against the rules for the animals to talk to the audi-
ence," said the Bear with a sigh. "Otherwise I'd do it."
" Where was the Giraffe to-day ?" asked the Leopard, saunter-
ing up. "I didn't see him anywhere."
"He's got a sore throat," replied the Zebra, who is a great
crony of the Giraffe.
"Dear me — much of a oue?" asked the Elephant.
'• Yes — I guess he must have five yards of it," said the £ebra.
"How it must hurt him to swallow," observed Jimmieboy.
"It does," said the Zebra. "He can't swallow anything, nut
even fairy stories or his youth, aud lie is so weak that he has to
rest his neck on crutches all the time."
"Poor fellow, "said Jimmieboy, "how he must suffer."
"Dreadfully — particularly from disappointment.'" said the
382
HAEPEK'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVL
Zebra. "He was going to sing at the Zoo concert next week,
but now be can't."
•• lines the Giraffe sing ?" queried Jinmiieboy, amazed to hear
what the Zebra had just said.
"Does he ?" ejaculated the Zebra. " Well, rather. Beauti-
fully. Why, the Kangaroo, who is a good deal of a poet in his
u. i \.oncc wrote, a poem to the Giraffe on the subject of his
voice. Haven't you heard n .'"
"No," said Jimmieboy. " But I'd like to hear it."
"It was called, ' To a Musical Giraffe,' and it went this v\ ,-n ."
said the Zebra:
"When mv old friend Giraffe begins
To exercise his thrn:it,
It knocks me off my nether pins
To hear one single note.
And when he finishes his song,
Xo matter what the tune —
However short, however long —
His audiences swunn."
" What kiud of a yoice is it ?" queried Jimmieboy. "Bass or
"Both, "said the Zebra. "That's the wonderful thing about
it. The length of his throat gives him a tremendously long
voice. I guess be must have seventeen octaves in it. He can
go four inches lower than the basest note ou the hand-organ,
and when he gets to high notes, you'd think to hear him he was
up in a balloon. I heard him sing a duet with himself once,
and really I was so overcome I couldn't stand on oue foot for
two weeks. It was magnificent."
" By-the-way, Zebe," said the Lion, "you looked mighty \\ell
at the masquerade ball the other night."
" Yes," returned the Zebra, with a satisfied smile. "I think
that was a great scheme of mine, don't yon .'"
"First-rate," said the Lion. " I knew what you meant to rep-
resent the minute I saw you."
"So did I," said the Bear. "Only I think you should have
had a tennis-racket to carry out tbe, effect."
"What had the tennis-racket to do with it?" asked the Ze-
bra.
"That's what I waut to hear," said the Lion.
" You meaut to appear as tennis-player — you had the striped
blazer ou," explained the Bear.
"How stupid he is," said the Lion. "Tennis - player ! He
wasn't a tennis-player at all."
" Of course I wasn't," said the Zebra.
••Anybody could see you meant to be a piece of toast," said
the Liou.
"A what?" shrieked the Zebra.
" A piece of toast ; you looked it too, Zebe."
"I did nothing of the sort," retorted the Zebra, angrily. "I
meant to be an American flag. Didu't you see the blue hat I
had ou with stars ou it?"
Here the Hyena laughed, aud tbe Zebra walked away in a
huff.
" You have very deeply offended him," said the Leopard. " He
hates to be told that he looks like a piece of toast or a, blazer,
because he heard the clown say once that toast was insipid, and
only fit for the ground-work of a Welsh rarebit, aud blazers, as
you all know, are very unfashionable."
"I didn't mean to hurt his feelings," said the Lion, "but if be
didn't look like a piece of toast, he looked less like an American
flag — why, he didu't wave a bit, and his stripes wereu't red aud
white, but brown and yellow."
" He wasu't fastened to a pole, either," said the Bear. "Was
he, Lion ?"
"No, he wasn't. But never mind. He'll be around again.
Zebe is too fond of talking to sulk very long. How many pea-
nuts did you get to-day, Jumbo?"
"Only oue," said Jumbo, sadly. "Oue peanut, a lemon pie,
aud a pair of opera-glasses."
" How ou earth did you happen to get the opera-glasses ?"
asked the Gun, with a loud laugh.
"It was a mistake," returned the Elephant, wiggling his ear.
"A very bad mistake ou the part of a little girl who was carry-
ing her mother's opera-glasses in oue hand and the most beauti-
ful bun you ever saw in the other. The bun was for me, and
the little girl was going to throw it into my mouth in the usual
way, but she got so excited she didu't know what she was do-
ing, aud threw the glasses clear down into my throat. It was
terrible the way those glasses went down."
"What made you swallow them ?" asked tbe Gnu.
"I didu't know of her mistake until I looked down at her aud
saw the glasses were gone, and the bun was still in her hand,"
returned the Elephant. "I had my eyes turned up to the ceil-
ing in an ecstasy of anticipation."
" But couldn't you tell by the taste of them f"
"Well, I thought it was the worst bnu for its looks I'd ever
had." replied the Elephant. ''But I took it for granted the
child knew what she was about. I never even dreamed of get-
ting the opera-glasses. I've bad pretty nearly everything from
a seal-skiit to a paper of tacks presented to me in that fashion,
but never in my wildest moments did I ever hope for opera-
glasses."
"Were the tacks good?" asked Jimmieboy.
"First-rate," replied the Elephant. " They were rather sharp,
but not more so than red-pepper, and I was really glad to get
them at the time because it was spring-time, and I felt sort of
run down and needed a little iron. They set me right up again."
"Tacks are first-rate to keep things from going to pieces,"
observed the Bear \N ith a wink at Jimmieboy.
"They held together," said the Elephant, and then they
all laughed again, whereupon the Lion roared over to the Hip-
popotamus that they'd all like to bear his pathetic, song about
the Nile.
"Very well," replied the Hippopotamus, " I'll sing it with
pleasure, hut I warn you it makes me cry, and Jimmieboy will
get his feet wet if I do."
"Oh no, he won't — not if he climbs up ou the Giraffe's neck,"
said the Lion.
"But the Giraffe's away," said the Bear.
"Then let him get up ou the trapeze," said tbe Liou.
"No," said the Hippopotamus, who was, by-the-way, one of
the most agreeable and accommodating behemoths that ever
lived. "I'll fix it. As I weep I'll open my mouth and catch
the tears as they flow aud swallow them."
" Thank yon," said Jimmieboy. " You are very kind, indeed."
•'Not at all." returned the Hippopotamus, politely. "It's really
a pleasure. I am very fond of salt water."
And then he began his song:
" Oh, the River of the Nile
Is a truly wondrous stream,
It is longer than a mile,
And as green as pistache cream.
I was born there long ago,
On the river's mossy b:mk,
Long before I had the woe
For to dwell here in a tank.
Oh. the things I had to eat
In those days were hard to beat,
For the Pickanninies on the Nile were wonderfully sweet.
" Then the Hippopotami
Held the river in their grip —
In the days for which I sigh,
When its waters knew no ship.
With the festive Crocodile
And the roaring cataract,
That dear River of the Nile
Was an Eden for a fact.
Oh, the fun we used to see
In the happy .-ipogee
Of our Kingdom ou the River down in sunny Afrikee!"
Here the Hippopotamus began to show signs of emotion.
Great tears measuring about a gallon apiece appeared at the
outer corners of his eyes, aud Jimmieboy grew somewhat fear-
ful lest the huge creature should either forget his promise to
catch them in falling, or else should be unable to do so, but the
Hippopotamus did not forget, and showed himself a very in-
genious creature in the way he managed his tears. He simply
smiled until the corners of his month reached the corners of his
eyes, and as they met the tears broke and coursed in a torrent
down his throat. In a moment he had gathered in all there
were — about eighty-seven gallons from each eye — wheu he be-
gan the last verse of his song :
"Oh! it makes me very sad
To be shut up in a Zoo
With a Hudson River Shad,
And an aged Kangaroo;
With a Grizzuelly Bear
And a whisker-growing Yak ;
With the Tortoise and the lime,
And the balance of the pack.
Since my voice in grief must drop
My sad song at once I'll stop,
With the statement that this life for that of old's a losing swap."
APKII, a, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLK.
383
" Bravo !" cried tlie Lion, bis voice trembling with sympathy.
"Don't cry. ''said the Bear to the weeping Hippopotamus. "It
makes you look like a Hypochondriac, ami I don't like them."
•• What's a Hypochondriac ?" asked Jimmiehoy.
•• It's an animal that can't see any fun in life, and thinks when-
ever it hasn't got mumps it has asthma or something else."
"What a disagreeable animal, "said Jimmiehoy. "Have you
one here ?"
"No," iviurued the Licm. "We are only quadrupeds here.
The Hypochondriac is a biped, according to the histories, but I
don't believe it's true, because they never seem to me to have
any legs at all. By-the-way, what time is it ?"
'• Five o'clock," said the Bear.
"A.M. or KM. ?" queried the Lion.
'•A.M. ."said the Bear.
"Then it's time we began to roar for our breakfasts. Are
you ready .'"
••We arc-!" cried all the Beasts at once, and then the Lion
counted " One — Two — Three!" whereupon they all began to roar
with the full strength of their lungs. The noise was terrifying.
and Jimmieboy, to keep from hearing it, covered his ears with
his hands, and closed his eyes as tightly as he could.
Ill a minute he opened his eyes again, and the animals had
disappeared. s<i had the circus tent and everything connected
with it. The sun was just sending its first morning rays through
the closed blinds of the nursery window, and the clock bell was
sounding the, last stroke of six.
S.i as usual Jimmieboy scampered out of the nursery into his
father's room to tell him of the strange thing that happened in
the night, and ho\v indignant he was with his father after he
had finished!
And well he. might have been, for his father had the impu-
dence to tell him he had imagined it all!
RUNNING THE CHINESE BLOCKADE.
A WAR -without blockade-running would be as tame as a cir-
cus without bare-back riders. The ordinary fighting-men
of the army and navy have their share of battles and hardships,
but the blockade-runner is the dashing fellow who takes his life
in his hands, knowing that he cannot fight if pursued, and 'that
speed and artful dodging are the only things that can save him
if he is forced to run the gauntlet.
Captain F. J. Hansford, of the British steamer Metapedia, had
an adventure with Chinese gunboats, a few days ago, that he
will not soon forget. He saved a cargo of cannon and ammu-
nition worth |4,000,000 for the Japanese government, and the
little brown men are as proud of him as if he were one of their
own Samurai. Captain HausforAis old and wise. He used to
command ships that ran to and from the blockaded Southern
ports during the civil war, when the Southerners were willing
to pay fabulous prices to send out their cotton, and receive
British arms and ammunition in return. Captain Hansford's
experience in dodging Uncle Sam's war-ships gave him a fine
training for the dangerous business of running past Chinese
meu-o'-war.
The British steamer Metapedia was loaded at Hamburg with
five 50-tou cannon and seven 25-ton guns. Besides there was a
large assortment of Krnpp rapid-firing guns, and a whole ship-
load of dynamite, fulminates, and all sorts of materials for mak-
ing torpedoes. All of this cargo had been put on boar.d as
secretly as possible, but of course it was pretty well known
about Hamburg that the ship was full of stuff for making war,
and that it was to go to Japan.
There was great danger that the Chinese would learn all
about the Metapediu's cargo, and try to capture the ship. So
every precaution was taken. Captain Hansford pretended not
to know where he was bound. The steamship dropped down
the river, and stood out in the North Sea. Then the Captain
opened a sealed envelope that had been handed to him at the
last moment before sailing. In it he found orders to take his
cargo to the most convenient Japanese naval station ; also to
look out for Chinese gunboats off Formosa.
Nothing startling happened until Formosa was in the offing.
Then Captain Hansford was surprised to see three gunboats
making for him, all of them flying the Japanese flag. First he
thought they might be an escort, but he soon reasoned that the
Japs°wonld rather not send gunboats to meet him, and thereby
advertise his errand. So he made for the open sea with the
Metaptdia's engines revolving like mad. The gunboats struck
their Japanese colors, and promptly hoisted their Yellow Dra-
gons. The nearest one tired a shot, but it fell too far away to
worry anybody. Presently that awful Asiatic storm, the ty-
phoon, began to blow, and darkness hid the ships from one
another. The Chinese gunboats quit the pursuit, and when the
storm was over they boarded an inoffensive ship, the Obvrin.
which was the first they met. The Metapedia arrived safely at
Yokuska-, a Japanese naval station. Captain Hansford received
;i present of $2500, and all his sailors got presents too.
ALL the readers of Yorxu PF.c>ri,i<: know how to color
Easter eggs, by tying them up in bits of colored calico and
boiling them until they are as " hard as a stone " ; and they also
know of the egg-rolling parties, and how you always exchange
eggs with each other at the end of the game. But these ''Kgg-
for Easter" are not for rolling, as that sort of treatment would
soon spoil them. All that is needed to make Li Hung Chang,
the fish, clown, or any of the decorated eggs in the sketch is a
pen and ink, a. bottle of mucilage, some paper, and a pair of
scissors, and also some cotton wool — black, if possible — for the
monk and clown.
The hardest one to make is perhaps the clown, but he is the
best, perhaps, and, like everything we do in this world, the harder
it is to do the more it is worth having. For the three tufts,
one on top and on either side of his head, cut the wool about an
inch long and sharpen them to a point with scissors; ink two
pieces of hemp twine an inch long for horns, ravel one end
so that it will spread out enough to take mucilage sufficient to
make them stand up ; the little ball at the end is simply a knot
tied before the string is cut. The long drooping mustache of
Li Hung Chang is also inked string, but if treated to a bath of
mucilage they will keep more graceful curves. The ears of the
rabbit are simply little rolls of paper pasted together and cut
before being stuck on. For fhe tins and tail of the fish draw
them with ink before cutting out, fold them about an eighth of
an iuch, or just wide enough to take the mucilage.
Any of the eggs, if cleverly done and put in a box about the
same size filled with wool, is very nice to send to a friend at
Easter.
TWO LITTLE APRIL-FOOLS.
DAFFYDOWNDILLY looked up at the sun,
And saw with delight that the spring had begun;
Her gay yellow bonnet, of satin so sweet,
And her downy green jacket so cozy and neat
She drew on in haste, and glanced out on the street.
And found herself blooming — the very first one !
Little Miss Bessie looked out, and she said,
"Oh, it is lovely and bright overhead!"
So she took her new parasol, blue as the sky,
And her new Sunday hat, with its daisies wreathed high,
And the pretty bronze slippers she brought home to try,
And out on the street like a fairy she sped.
Dark grew the sky, and like sleet was the rain,
Lashing the tree-tops and beating the pane.
Daffydowudilly tried vainly to hide,
And little Miss Bess, in her beauty and pride,
With hat, shoes, and parasol soakiug, she cried :
"The suu April-fooled us! He did — it is plain!"
MliS. MCVEAN-ADAMS.
384
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
THE DIFFICULTY.
" WHAT is the matter with your dog. Harold ? Whenever lie
runs he falls head over heels."
"I know it — poor little thing! His hiud legs can run faster
than his fore legs, arid so he's always tripping himself up."
ONE OF NATURE'S PRANKS.
" I GUESS it's spring-time," said the Blade of Grass, popping its
head up above the hard ground.
" April-fool !" cried the last Snow-storm of the year, dropping
a few flakes upon the little grass blade's head.
A MISLEADING PICTURE.
JIMMIEBOY'S picture stands on his father's desk, and, sad to
relate, has in some way managed to get a few ink spots on it.
•' Humph !" said Jimmieboy, as he caught sight of one blot on
his little white blouse in the picture. " That looks as if I'd been
having a bully time; but it isn't so. Somebody else played with
that ink'."
AN APRIL FOOL.
•'WELL, I'M A UIGGRR FOOL, MY FRIENDS, THAN I HAD KVKE THOUGUT ON;
I'VE GONE AN' MAUR1UU MK A WIFK, AND FIND SUE'S STUFFED WITH COTTON!"
A REASONABLE IDEA.
" SEEMS to me," remarked Wilbur, as he thought about cer-
tain things, " that if they have an insect called a Bee and a bird
called a Jay, there ought to be things named after the other let-
ters in the alphabet. For instance, a Q would make a splendid
animal, because it has a tail to start with."
A RUSTIC audience in a far Western town were enjoying in-
tensely a magic-lantern show. lu the course of the programme
the lecturer announced, " A bird's-eye view of Paris." It vras
pretty and clear, but there was a slight detect iu the paper of
the photograph above the picture of the beautiful city, which
\v;i> duly magnified, and assumed a conspicuous place on the can-
vas. Amidst the perfect quiet of the darken-
ed room, broken here and there, by soft sighs
of ecstasy, a little voice piped up:
"Mamuia,is that the bird's eye — above
the city ?"
— — *
PAT'S WAY OF CATCHING FISH.
AN Irishman was seen one day industri-
ously pumping away on a small bellows
with the nozzle stuck into a stream of wa-
ter. Upon being asked why he was blow-
iiig air into the water he exclaimed :
"Faith, oi've noticed that fish can't live in
the air, so oi thought oi'd give thim some
air in the water, and whin they dies and
conies to the top oi can ketch them. Yez
see, it's much aisyer than fishiu'."
CONSOLATION.
" MY birthday is April - fool's day," said
Jack, " but I don't care. That don't make
uie a fool any more than being born on
Fourth of July would make a fire-cracker
of me."
MUST DO SOMETHING.
" MAMMA," said Jack, " may I go out and play ?"
"No; you must sit still where you are."
Pause.
"Ma, can't I go down iu the kitchen?"
"You may not. I want you to sit perfectly quiet."
Another pause.
" Mammy, mayn't I sit ou the floor and play marbles ?"
"Now, my dear boy, I have told you twice that I want you to
sit just where you are and be quiet, and I mean exactly what I
say."
Third pause.
" Ma — may I — grow t"
»
OVERHEARD IN THE TOOL-HOUSE. *
" Do you ever have trouble with your teeth ?" asked the Rake
of the Bucksaw.
" Yes," replied the Saw, sadly ; " they're always bothering me."
" I should think they might," said the Eake. " Fact is, I don't
see how you could have anything else but saw-teeth with the
work you do."
OVERHEARD IN THE MENAGERIE.
" IF this place should catch tire what would you do ?" asked
the Giraffe of the Elephant.
"I'd pick up my trunk and run for the entrance. What would
you do V
"I'd go to that window and slide down my neck to the side-
walk," said the Giraffe with a wink at the monkeys.
I1O\V IT HAPPENED.
" WHAT is your name, little boy ?"
" Peter, ma'am," said Willis.
" Named after your father ?"
" No, ma'am. After my Aunt Sarah."
" What ? Are you crazy ?"
"No, ma'am. I'm April-foolin'."
" THAT is TOO PLAIN TO Foor. ANYBODY.
WILL JUST 8TKP ON TI1E BIKING AND BUN OFF
WITH THK BAIT."
APRIL FOOL.
I BDT THE TRICK
DIDN'T WORK THE WAY
HE THOUGHT IT WOULD.
'fir
H
HARPE
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1895, by H.HPKE A BROTHKKS. All Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 806.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, APRIL 9, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A TEAR.
YEN EL LI'S VIOLIN.
BY JAMES BARNES.
IN Filzleroy Street there is a row of houses which are
only three stories high, and it is about the occupants
of the little house farthest to the left that this story is
written.
To begin at the top. Under the roof lived the musi-
cian all alone ; on the second floor lived the fisherman
and his wife; on the first the tailor and his daughter,
who, by-the-way, rented the rooms to the others; and in
the basement had lived, some time ago, before the story
opens, a poor widow and her little girl. But the basement
window now bore a sign showing that this apartment was
for rent.
The musician was a very queer old man, and most of the
Filzleroy Street children had somehow formed the idea
that he was very bad and cruel. It is very natural for
children to start this kind of a story about old people
who walk with their heads down, and who have very
deep-set restless eyes. They had kept out of his way
for years, or at least only thrown taunts at him as he
passed by. To these taunts he had never replied.
386
HAMPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
From the third story often came the strains of a vio-
lin. A few years ago they were more frequent and, in
fact, more pleasing, for as time had gone on the old
man's fingers had become bent and cramped with,
rheumatism, and at last he could do no more than play
very slow pieces that required but little execution. Now,
for some time, he had not played at all. And yet there
was a time long, long since in which hundreds of people
had watched his figure as it swayed to his own music,
and had listened to the wailing, singing, and laughing of
this same violin that nestled in its little wooden coffin up
in the room under the sloping eaves.
I have said that on the second story lived the fisher-
man, and a very wonderful fisherman he was too, for
he fished from morning to evening, in fact as long as
daylight lasted, and had never caught a fish that any
one could eat in all his life. He had caught many other
things, and more people had watched him with his rod
in his hand than had watched any other angler in the
world, and more people had laughed at the strange things
lie caught than you could count if you took a whole day
for the reckoning, for the fisherman angled from the roof
•of a tall building on the corner of a busy avenue. Sit-
ting under an umbrella if it rained, or the sun was very
hot, he dropped his hook into an imaginary pond, from
which he drew such strange things as old boots, odd-
looking alligators, tin sauce-pans, and now and then a
huge stuffed fish almost as large as himself, which he
pretended to have great trouble in landing. In fact, the
fisherman was a living advertisement (and had been so
for years) for a brand of smoking tobacco.
The fisherman's wife was a neat little woman, who
worked at lace-making all day long. When, on Sunday,
the couple went to church, no one would have recognized
them at all, for the little woman wore a very handsome
Cashmere shawl about her shoulders, and the fisherman
a very tall silk hat with a wide straight brim.
Every day of 'their lives for the past ten years they
had seen the odd old man who played the violin, and
they had wished him a cheerful good-morning now and
then. To this kindly greeting the old musician respond-
ed merely with a nod.
On a bright day the children of Fitzleroy Street poured
out of the great tenements and out of the crowded little
brick houses into the street, and their shouts and laugh-
ter sounded as if it were school recess most of the time.
The poor widow and her little daughter, who had lived
in the basement, had been so poor, that oftentimes she
and the little girl had known what it was to be cold
and hungry.
If a barrel-organ wandered into the street, which hap-
pened very often, the little girl did not dance about it,
but stood to one side listening to the jingling music and
thrilled through and through by the metallic tinkling runs.
It was while standing this way one morning, some
time before our story opens, her lips and fingers blue
from cold, that she had attracted the attention of the
fisherman's wife.
The latter had stopped and asked the little girl her
name. The child told her what it was, and it sounded
as if it should go with silks and satins and not with
broken shoes and threadbare dresses.
"Angelica Fredericka Grafton " had sounded very
strangely for such a poor wan hungry little creature.
That evening the fisherman's wife had sat up quite
late after her husband's return, and her sewing-machine
had hummed far into the night. The next morning she
had gone to the basement and found where Angelica
Fredericka lived. She had found, also, that Angelica's
mother was very ill.
It was evident, however, that it was not to be for long,
and one day the poor woman with the aristocratic name,
who sewed linings in overcoats all day long, gave up the
struggle, and Angelica had been taken upstairs, without
any formality of law, to live with the fisherman and
his wife, and to share their comparative comforts, which
to her seemed quite like luxuries; and this is how she
came to meet the strange old man who used to climb
the uncarpeted stairway to the third story.
It had not taken very long for the fisherman and his
wife to grow very fond of the golden-haired little girl,
and they soon came to regard her as quite their own.
With plenty to eat and warm clothing to wear, Angel-
ica's cheeks had grown rosy and her thin little face had
filled out wonderfully.
Every now and then the owner of the violin had a
visitor. An old man quite as old but much straighter
than himself came to see him, and when he did so the
violin always woke up, and the people belowstairs used
to stop in the hallway to listen to the music.
The musician and his visitor rarely talked, and when
they did so it was in a foreign tongue, which no one in
the house could have understood if they had listened, but
which it will do to translate for the time being to help
tell the story.
" Ah, Leon, dear friend," said the owner of the violin,
"I could not part with it, and I can no longer play it.
Pity! Pity!" He clasped his gnarled fingers, and the
tears poured down his cheeks. He added, as he paused
and glanced about him, " I cannot part with it."
His friend did not reply, but had drawn an answer
from the violin.
One day as the old men. sat with the violin talking be-
tween them they had heard a sound of something mov-
ing on the stairway landing outside the door. There
stood Angelica. Many times she had stolen up the stair-
way and stood on the top step listening to the violin,
and many times had the fisherman and his wife on the
second floor, and even the tailor and his daughter on the
first floor, left their doors open and also listened.
When Angelica saw the fierce-looking old man stand-
ing there she was much frightened, and was about to run
down the stairs, but he stopped her.
"You like it," he said, " ze music? Come stand here
where you can hear it better."
The other had stopped playing, but at a gesture from
his friend had resumed again. Angelica stood quivering
with nervous delight. Oftentimes had she heard the
violin played in the street, but never had she heard it
played like this before. The music appeared to come
from all about her. It filled the dingy room until it
seemed like a voice from fairyland. She closed her eyes;
no longer was she in the noisy city, but in some great
wide forest where the birds were singing and the breezes
playing among the trees. Angelica drew her breath in
sighs of delight. Then he dashed off into a rippling,
laughing chase of sound that made her laugh out loud.
Suddenly he stopped, and Angelica, too much overcome
to even breathe her thanks, stole down just in time to
meet the fisherman as he returned from his day of toil;
for toil it surely was.
When she had gone, the one who had played the violin
replaced it in the long black box.
"She has an artiste's soul, Maurice," he said. "That
child, you can play upon her feelings much as one plays
011 this."
"She could learn to play heTself," replied the other
old man. "Did you see her hands, my friend?" Once
more he extended his own cramped fingers and sighed.
The next day was Easter. The fisherman, dressed in
his best black coat, was looking out of the window. No
one would have thought that this grave-looking old man
was he who wrestled with the big stuffed fish numberless
times a day on the top of the tall building.
Angelica sat in a little rocking-chair with a book in
her lap; a book that carries all children far away from
APRIL 9, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
387
their surroundings, and gives them the delights of trav-
elling in countries and meeting people who are none the
less delightful because they never existed. It was Grimm's
Fairy Tales.
Mrs. Lambey, the fisherman's wife, had removed her
Cashmi-re shawl after coming back from church, and
preparing dinner in the little kitchen.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door.
It was exactly like a fairy story. There was a large
bundle tied in tissue-paper. It was addressed to the num-
ber of the house, second floor, and was inscribed, " For the
Little Lady with Golden Hair."
Where it had come from no one could imagine. When
the bundle was opened it was found to contain some long
slender lilies that filled the room, despite the cooking in
the kitchen, with a sweet odor — again quite like fairyland.
Angelica, moved by a sudden impulse, had stolen up to
the third story. The little front room was empty; but
she had left two of the lilies there in a pitcher of water.
The next day Angelica had been met in the hallway
by Mr. Venelli. for that was the musician's name.
"Good-morning, mees," he said. "Would you come
to hear my violin to-day?"
She had accompanied the musician to the upper story.
The slender white flowers were on the window-sill; she
was afraid of the old man no longer. His face was al-
most kindly when he smiled.
It was a beautiful afternoon, and the sun shone down
into the dark street; the children were all playing at the
farther corner, and it was quiet; the musician tuned the
strings of the violin, and commenced to play; his fingers
were a little better on this day. At last he stumbled in
rendering a passage, and uttered an exclamation full of
anguish.
" No, no," he said, " it will set me crazy trying to play.
It is gone — gone; I only have it here," putting his hand
to his forehead pathetically.
Then he turned to the little girl, who had remained
standing by the door. He motioned her to him, and
closed her fingers about the bow, and showed her how to
draw it clearly across the strings.
Strange to say, it appeared to come natural to Angelica
to take the right position. She bent her face lovingly
over the instrument, and when lie placed her fingers on a
chord it sounded sweet and firm. Her face was flushed
and her heart was beating fast, but she did not appear to
be nervous in the least. The delight of having music
in her own hands caused her to thrill from head to foot.
"It ees good," said the old man. "You can learn to
play."
He made her exercise, and kept her holding it in one
position so long that she felt almost cramped; but so in-
terested was she that she did not notice how long it was,
and stood there listening patiently to what he told her.
The next afternoon the lesson was repeated, and one
evening, only a day or so afterwards, strange to tell, the
old man had knocked at the Lambeys' door.
The fisherman had greeted him and asked him in. In
a few words he explained his mission, and in his broken
English he asked that Angelica might become a pupil of
his.
After this, it being much more comfortable in the rooms
on the second floor, Mr. Venelli became quite a constant
visitor, and every afternoon after the lesson he would
take the violin under his arm and climb the stairway to
the room under the eaves.
The old man seemed to expand under the influence of
having found friendly voices. In fact, he became quite
companionable, and got into the habit of dropping in and
talking with the fisherman in the evening after Angel-
ica's lesson. And so the time went by on happy wings.
At rare intervals the other musician called at the little
house, and on these occasions the violin was brought
forth and Angelica was made to play. The two old men
watched her closely; the sweeping turn of the wrist came
naturally to the little girl, and her whole soul was in the
music that she played. It almost appeared as if she must
practise in her dreams.
It was again an Easter Sunday. The great white ca-
thedral was filled with people; the organ was throbbing,
and the voices of the choir-boys seemed to Angelica to
be like the music she imagined one might hear in heaven.
It was the first time that she had ever been here.
Mr. Venelli was standing on one side of her, and on
the other side was the fisherman. As they listened to
the music, Angelica's hands sought the hands of her
adopted father and of the other old man, whom she now-
had grown to love almost as much.
At last the service was over. The little boys, who
swung the jingling censers that puffed out breaths of
scented smoke, had headed the procession of richly gowned
priests out into the chapel, and the crowd began to surge
through the doorway.
Suddenly Mr. Venelli stepped forward. In front of
them walked a tall man whose long iron-gray hair fell
down over his coat collar. He had a sad, kind face, and
had evidently enjoyed the music also, for he was smiling
to himself.
Mr. Venelli plucked his arm and spoke some words in
a foreign tongue. The man turned and started, then he
grasped the old musician by both hands and began to talk
so quickly that it was with difficulty, one would think,
that any one could follow what he was saying. Mr.
Venelli stooped and took Angelica by the hand.
" Ah ! is this ze little lady?" said the tall man. " You
must bring her to see me." He took out a card, and
stepping to one side on to a grass-plot, wrote an ad-
dress on it, and handed it to the old musician ; then he
shook hands with Angelica, raised his hat to the fisher-
man, and walked away.
Mr. Venelli was so excited that he forgot that his
friends could not understand the foreign tongue, for he rat-
tled on, until suddenly lie recollected, and began to trans-
late what he had said slowly.
" I have not seen him for twenty years," he said, " and
he remembered me! And now he is ze greatest player in
ze world. I met him years ago before lie was famous; he
took a lesson of me; think of it, just think of it! And
now that he is come to visit America, we will be able to
hear how ze violin can be played. He remembered niy
violin, too," he added. " Oh, he could not forget zat!"
The little party walked up to the wide entrance of the
Park. They entered across the broad Plaza, and sat down
on a bench under the shadow of the trees.
The musician was deep in thought, and drew the card
that the great man had given him out of his pocket.
"It is for zis afternoon," he said. "Come, we must
hurry back."
He grasped Mr. Lambey by the arm, and awaking the
little girl from her reverie, they hastened to the avenue.
An hour or so later two men, a little girl, and the old
violin-case were going up in the elevator at one of the
large hotels. They walked down the hallway, and were
ushered into a small parlor whose windows overlooked
the roofs of the city. Here and there little clouds of
steam floated up and waved about like feathery flags.
Never had Angelica been up so high above the earth in
all her life ; she had shaken hands with the tall man
who had greeted them, and had then made her way to
the window.
Suddenly she heard a sound of some one tuning' the
violin. It was the tall man himself. He turned it over
in his bands and looked at it almost lovingly.
" Let her play first," he said.
She was not a bit frightened, and could never renn in
her how she began at all, but the first thing she knew she
388
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
was playing as she had never played before. She was
playing something that Mr. Venelli had composed.
The tall man listened attentively, and now and then
nodded his head, and when she had finished he stepped
over to her and kissed her forehead.
"She should go to Europe," he said to Mr. Venelli.
"She will be an artiste, my dear friend. Has she any
friends who could send her there?"
"She has the violin," said the old musician, "for I
will give it to her now. You would buy it? You know
the price, my friend."
The tall man paused. Such an instrument as this he
had hardly the equal of in his whole collection. The
price that it would bring would keep a little girl for a
long time in Paris.
"Stop, I have an idea," said the tall man. "She shall
appear with me at one of my concerts."
Angelica will never forget how she practised during
the next four months, nor will the moment when she was
led out by the tall gray-haired man and saw those many
faces looking up at her ever leave her mind. She carried
the violin under her arm.
When she felt the bow in her hands she gained cour-
age, and the music came as freely and easily as it did
when she had played in the little room in Fitzleroy Street
or in the parlor on Easter Sunday.
She had won them! and it was not necessary now to
sell the violin.
Mr. Venelli wept tears of joy. He and the violin had
triumphed as well as Angelica.
SPORTS AND AMUSEMENTS OF AFRICAN
NATIVES.
BY LIEUTENANT A. I. MOUNTENAY JEPHSON.
£-.
ON my return from a journey of some months through
Algiers, the Sahara desert, and Tunis, I found among
the many letters awaiting me on my writing-table here
in sunny Provence one from the editor of HARPER'S
THE AFRICAN GAME OF HOCKEY.
YOUNG PEOPLE, asking me to write an article on "the
sports and amusements of savages in Africa." I am fur-
ther told it is to form one of a "series of articles on
games and sports of different lands," and that it is to be
written for school-boys.
The editor of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE has no idea
of the difficulty of the task he has set for me, for the
"savages of Africa" have but few of what we in civili-
zation would call regular games.
There are, it is true, in Central Africa some few games,
and these I will touch upon; but they are of no great
importance among the natives, for in Africa children
begin to learn things to fit them for after-life at an age
when the youth of Europe or America would still be
occupied with nothing but games and amusements. And
so it comes about that in Africa the regular games are
few and unimportant, while the practising of shooting
and running, of swimming and the management of boats,
etc., becomes the real amusement of the youth of Africa.
In a clever and exhaustive description of "life among
the Congo savages " Mr. Ward makes the following re-
marks: " The young peopleof a native village are alwavs
in high spirits, amusing themselves by games, mimic
warfare, and bird-trapping and hunting on a miniature
scale ; but it is not all play with them. Their parents
or masters compel them to take part in work in which
they themselves may be engaged. It is a mistake to con-
sider that these people are incorrigibly indolent when
\ve come to consider the enormous amount of time and
patience they bestow upon all their industries."
From this it may be understood that the regular games
must necessarily be few among the Africans, when the
children begin to learn to hunt and shoot, etc., at an
early age, and are obliged also to take part in the work
and serious things of life in which their elders are en-
gaged. It is difficult, therefore, to determine where the
amusements cease and where the real work of life begins,
the two being so mingled.
Such games, too, as there are, are not played exclusively
by young- people, but are entered into with equal interest
and gayety by the grown-up people as well.
I remember seeing a
game, which for want of
a better name I will call
football, played at a vil-
lage in the breezy up-
lands of Central Africa,
belonging to a chief call-
ed Majamboni. It was
a feast day in our camp,
and there had been a
great slaughtering of cat-
tle. With two of the
bladders of the slaughter-
ed cattle (one placed in-
side the other), some of
the native boys impro-
vised a large ball, and
began to play football
with it on a grassy green
in front of our tents.
Rough goals were put
up at each end of the
green, and sides being
chosen, the ball was kick-
ed off from the middle
of the ground. The
game was played much
in the same way that our
Association game is play-
ed, but there was a good
deal of "handling,"
and not much idea of
APRIL 9, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
389
the rules of "off-side."
The natives understood
"dribbling" wonderfully
well, and I saw some re-
markably good play, for
they were clever at dodg-
ing and passing the ball
back to their own side.
Still there seemed to be
no very close or regular
rules, each man playing
pretty much as he saw fit.
The sides, moreover, were
not limited to any partic-
ular number, and the ball
being struck from hand
to hand, was as often in
the air as 011 the ground.
The game, which was
started with about ten
boys on each side, was
soon joined in by the
elders, until in a short
time almost every grown-
up man in the village
was taking part in it. As
soon as any of them got
tired and fell out of the
game, others took their
places, sometimes as
many as a hundred men
playing at the same time.
The game soon became
fast and furious, and the
greatest excitement was
shown; the women and
children, too, all turned
out to see it, and were quite as noisy in their demonstra-
tions and showed quite as much interest in it as the
spectators do at a football match between Harvard and
Yale.
There was no limit as to time, and the game, which
was started at about two o'clock in the afternoon, would.
I believe, have gone on till midnight had not the ball
burst with a loud report in the middle of a scrimmage,
and so with much shouting and laughter it ended tow-
ards sundown.
This was the first and almost the only time I had seen
anything like football played by the natives of the inte-
rior, and it is interesting to find that football, which is
always considered to be a game of civilization, is not un-
known among the so-called "savages'" of Central Africa.
The game which is best known, and which one sees
played in almost every part of Africa, is a kind of
"hockey." From north to south, from east to west,
hockey, or something very like it, is played everywhere capital hockey clubs.
NATIVES PLAYING THEIR GAME OF CUES
our approach, we frequently found hockey-sticks of vari-
ous sizes and shapes, many of them being nicely cut and
well balanced. In some cases they were roughly carved
and ornamented with wire, which points to a considera-
ble importance and interest being attached to the game.
In the forest countries, where the India-rubber vine
abounded, the balls, which were usually about the size of
a baseball, were made of solid India-rubber, as Dr. Junck-
er describes them, but in most of the open countries they
were roughly made of wood, and in a few cases of the
knuckle-bone of some animal.
It is curious how popular this game is in Africa, and
how universally it is played, from the smallest children
to grown-up men. Three months ago, when I was at
Biskra, I saw it played there, and in the other oases of the
Sahara desert, every evening by the Arab children, their
sticks being made from the thick mid-rib of date-palm
leaves, the broad flanging ends of which render them
by children, and grown-up natives alike. I should be
inclined to call it the most popular game of its kind in
Africa.
In Dr. Juncker's Travels in Africa, he speaks of hav-
ing seen it played in the middle of the Great Forest, at a
village near the Welle River. He says: "I was surprised
here (at Majegbae's village) to see a number of youths,
with a few men, engaged in a game of hui'ly, played ex-
actly as with us, the parties driving an India-rubber ball
with sticks in opposite directions, with much yelling and
shouting. The rubber is procured from the landolphia,
a liana (creeper) which grows in' all the forest districts
along both sides of the Welle- Mallua River."
In our march across Africa from east to west we saw
this game played by almost every tribe we encountered,
whether in the Great Forest or in the open country. In
There were doubtless many games played by the small-
er children which we never saw, for in our inarch through
the Great Forest the natives were, unfortunately, almost
always hostile, and we were seldom able to see anything
of their village life. Once only in the forest -was I able
to get a glimpse of the real village life of these hostile
and warlike people. It was in our starvation days, when
we had had little or nothing to eat for many weeks but
fungus and wild fruits, and I was sent out with thirty
of our Zanzibar negroes to find food. We had ranged
through the trackless forest all day, finding nothing, un-
til late in the afternoon we came upon a native track
winding along by a small dark stream, and this we fol-
lowed up.
Towards sunset we heard sounds which told us we
were approaching a native village, and moving softly
the huts, too, of villages whose inhabitants had fled at and silently along, we crept up to the edge of the clear-
390
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
ing and peered through the bushes. There close to us
we saw quite a pretty scene. The long village street
with huts on each side of it was full of life. There were
fires in the open street with steaming cooking pots upon
them, in which the women were preparing the evening
meal of bananas and corn and goat's meat. Some of the
men, fully armed, were chipping at the rough planks
witli which they build their huts in that part of the forest;
others were polishing their spears, or shaping their bows
and arrows; but the day's work was almost finished, and
the greater number of them were sitting idly at the doors
of their huts, smoking their big long pipes and watching
the children at play. There were a great many of them,
all naked, engaged in various games.
The group nearest us was playing a game which we as
children used to call "Puss in the Corner" — a game
where the players range themselves in different corners,
while one stands in the middle trying to catch the others
as they change places. Another group were playing
hockey, while others, with much shouting and laughter,
were playing a kind of battledoor and shuttlecock with
sticks and little bits of wood with feathers stuck in them.
Further off at the other end of the street we could see
the bigger boys practising shooting at a rough target,
with little bows and arrows which they themselves had
made, whilst among them all the goats and chickens of
the village wandered peaceably about, picking up a live-
lihood here and these.
Here was the true village life; here were the simple
natural games of the children. It was such a pretty,
quiet scene that I was loath to disturb it. But we had
been hungry for weeks, and the steam from the cooking-
pots was savory in our nostrils. Thirty half-starving
men were crouching behind me, so giving them the word,
we parted the bushes in front of us, and stepped out into
the open.
At the sight of us all the natives — men, women, and
children — fled into the forest with loud cries of fear, leav-
ing everything behind them. And so without firing a
shot we found ourselves in peaceable possession of their
village, and supper cooked ready for us. It was the best
meal we had eaten for many weeks. We found many
sheaves of spears and numbers of pots of freshly made
black liquid with which the natives poison their arrows.
These we destroyed, and after sleeping the night in the
village we departed at daybreak next morning, leaving
the natives to return to it when they pleased.
This was almost the only opportunity I ever had in
the forest of seeing the ordinary village life, but from
the short glimpse I got of it I saw that though games
among the bigger children are few, there are many sim-
ple games unknown to Europeans which are played by
the smaller children in the region of the great African
forest. Occasionally we saw some of them, but not often.
Once I remember, months afterward, when we were on
our way down to the coast, and were sitting one evening-
after supper round the camp-fires, we asked a little native
boy of about twelve or thirteen years of age whom Cap-
tain Stairs had rescued from some Arab slave-raiders, to
show us what games he and his companions used to play
at their village in the forest.
Wadi-Kesi, for that was his name, readily complied,
and bringing several sticks and a number of flat stones
he arranged them alternately at equal distances on the
ground in the shape of a large square. Taking his place
in the middle of it, he commenced singing some native
song. But it evidently brought back to his mind the
happy days he had spent in his forest home; for after
singing a few words he sat down upon the ground, weep-
ing and bewailing his fate so bitterly that we never had
the heart afterwards to ask him to finish the game.
There is one game, however, which is played univer-
sally in Africa by old and young alike; this is a kind of
native draughts or chess. It is played by the semi-civ-
ilized tribes on both coasts, by the "savages" of the far
interior, and even by the Arabs. It is played with little
smooth round pebbles generally, on an oblong board
about two feet six inches long and one foot six inches
broad, with small holes cut in it like those of a solitaire
board. Some of these boards are really beautifully made,
being often raised on four finely carved legs, six inches
high, the whole board, legs and all, being formed of a
single piece of wood.
In the countries of the Monbuttu, Makraka, and those
tribes who inhabit the northwest of the forest, I have
seen many of these draught-boards which were veritable
works of art, being carved in exceedingly intricate and
tasteful designs in dark brown highly polished wood.
In some of the villages, however, of the far interior, I
have seen the game played merely on the ground, an
oblong space of the proper size being marked otf on a flat
hard piece of earth, with little holes at regular intervals
scooped out in it.
In nearly every village one enters, in whatever part of
Africa it may be, one almost invariably sees this game
played.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
A DELIGHTFUL CUSTOM.
^I^IIE Topsy-turvy Doctors have
J. A very curious way ;
Tlicy (In not cure i'nlks of their ills,
But of tbeir health, they say.
For instance, when a boy feels well,
The Doctor he comes by
Anil makes liim stay at homo from school,
And dose himself with pie.
And that is why, 'twixt you and me,
An Upsiclowiiey I would be.
THE STORY OF AN EASTER EGG.
BY SOPHIE SWETT.
" TTAVE you seen my Fidelia ?" Miss Crayshaw's
XI usually calm voice was agitated and anxious, and
Dorothy Byles looked up quickly from her crocus bed.
"She's lost! she's been gone two days!"
"Your peacock?" said Dorothy, her plump fourteen-
year-old face grown long with sympathy; for every one
in the neighborhood knew how fond Miss Crayshaw was
of her pets.
" My peahen," corrected Miss Crayshaw. "I thought
it might be better to keep the matter quiet, and offer a
large reward for her return in the Courier next week.
But I've grown so anxious that I can't wait. I sus-
pect the Crasher boy." Miss Crayshaw leaned far over
the garden fence, and uttered the last sentence in an im-
pressive whisper.
Dorothy sighed heavily; there was worse trouble in
the world than the failure of her crocuses to blossom for
Easter. Of course Miss Crayshaw suspected the Crasher
boy; every one did when there was any mischief done in
which he could possibly have had a share. Dorothy u :is
president of the Lend-a-hand Club, which was trying to
make the mill boys and girls have a better time, but the
club could not "get at" the Crasher boy and his sister.
Dorothy especially wished to make them have a better
time; perhaps it was because she had once seen the
Crasher boy rescue a homeless kitten from some boys who
were tormenting it, perhaps because when she had once
tried to make a call at the little old house by the river
where the Crasher boy and his sister had lived alone,
since their mother died, she had discovered why the
Crasher girl was sensitive. "Hard to get along with,"
the neighbors said. She wore her long, thin, sandy hair
APRIL 9, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
391
hanging loosely upon her shoulders; when she turned
her back Dorothy saw that this was an effort to conceal
a pitiful hump.
"G'long away! Phil and me don't want folks spyiii'
on us," the Crasher girl had said with emphasis, and shut
the door in Dorothy's face.
But Dorothy was tender-hearted ; she had forgotten the
ungracious reception, and remembered the pitiful hump.
The neighbors said that Phil Crasher was almost fiercely
devoted to his sister M'randy. Dorothy remembered that,
too.
" The Crasher boy was hanging about here Wednesday
night— the night that Fidelia disappeared," Miss Cray-
shaw was saying. "Wimbledon saw him." (Wimble-
don was Miss Crayshaw's old gardener, who boasted of
always keeping a weather eye out for boys.)
"I don't see how any one could have stolen her; she
had so much of a voice," said Dorothy, trying to put it
mildly, for many people had complained of the shrill
screaming of her peacocks, and Miss Crayshaw was sensi-
tive.
"Wimbledon thinks he must have choked her." Miss
Crayshaw's voice trembled with emotion. "If his mo-
tive had been other than revenge, the thief would have
stolen Francis, with his splendid tail feathers. I did love
Fidelia better, and it was generally known." Miss ( Ira v
shaw's severe features worked pitifully, like a child's.
She was not known to have a relative in the world ; she
had a proud nature, and family troubles had isolated her,
and one must love something. "He probably wished to
be revenged on me because I had him arrested last sum
mer for stealing my plums. The judge let him go be-
cause there was no one but him to take care of his invalid
sister; he said he wanted the plums for his sister too,
and worked on the judge's sympathies. I think it was a
mistake to let him go."
Dorothy looked a trifle shamefaced. The Lend-a-hands
had had a little something to do with that affair; one
of them had gone to Judge Boultby and told him how
parched with fever was M'randy, and how cool and sweet
were the plums, and that the Crasher boy had asked Wim-
bledon to give them to him — Wimbledon, whose heart was
hardened, like Miss Crayshaw's, towards boys.
" He's very good to his deformed sister," faltered Dor-
othy. "Boys are apt to be a little trying."
Who knew that better than Dorothy, who "came be-
tween " six brothers, three who scorned her counsels be-
cause she was younger than they, and three who cherished
a jealous fear that she wished to rule because she was
older.
"/know what they are!" Miss Crayshaw's face had
grown suddenly rigid and severe. " I had a brother; he
was little Eustace to me; he brought disgrace upon us.
He committed a crime — forgery. Then he married among
his low associates. I have never loved anything since
except a dumb creature, whose wickedness couldn't break
my heart. Trying! Boys seem to me altogether evil."
"Oh, no, no ["expostulated Dorothy, hastily. "I didn't
mean anything like that. Our boys are good — inside;
they show it sometimes; each one has a particular good-
ness. They're quite lovely once in awhile."
Miss Crayshaw smiled sarcasticalh- ; she seemed some-
what ashamed of having been moved to this confidence
concerning her family affairs. "I only wished to ask
you, since you look after the mill people a little, whether
you would find out, if you could, whether the Crasher boy
suffocated — killed Fidelia."
" She's quite sure that the Crasher boy is at the bottom
of it; I'm not," said Dorothy to herself, with a little in-
dignation.
"He may have sold her," pursued Fidelia's bereaved
mistress. "But I should know her anywhere. I regret
very much that I never raised any peafowls from her
eggs. I tried it several times, but Fidelia was not of a
domestic turn; she was not a good sitter. She had just
laid a litter of eggs, and Wimbledon sent them to the city
to sell. If I had saved even one or two, I might possibly
have raised another like Fidelia."
Dorothy had a crocus half opened for Easter day, after
all, and she carried a small potted lily from church— the
Lend-a-hauds had sent a supply for the poor and sick —
to the little old house by the river, where the Crasher boy
and his sister lived. She had promised Miss Crayshaw
to discover the peacock thief, if possible; besides, it was
Easter, and she wasn't sure that Easter found its way
down Bridge Alley.
Barbara Donovan came hurrying after Dorothy and
called to her. Barbara took care of the rooms of the
Lend-a-haiid Club, and felt also that she had a care over
" the bit things " who composed the club.
" It's little thanks ye'll get, I'm thinkin', Miss Dorothy,
from thim two quare crathurs that thinks thimsilves too
good to have anny recourse to their neighbors," said Bar-
bara. "It's strange doin's they're afther havin' there
yestherday, wid a blood-crnddlin' scrachin' and scramin'.
Me mother said it was more like the banshee that she
heard oncet in the ould counthry than annything else at
all. If we heard the n'ise again we'd spake to the p'lice-
man."
Dorothy's heart sank. The noise that was like a ban-
shee wail could be nothing less than Fidelia's voice. She
was tempted to turn back and tell Miss Crayshaw or a
policeman, but it would be a pity, whatever they were,
that they should not have so much of Easter as a lily.
The Crasher boy was standing in the doorway of the
dilapidated little shed which looked as if it were going
to fall over into the river. He scowled when he saw
Dorothy, and the scowl deepened as she walked into the
yard towards him. But his face softened suddenly — it
was a square resolute face — when Dorothy said:
" I've brought your sister an Easter-lily. I knew she
was ill, and I was afraid she wouldn't have any Easter at
all."
He hesitated, studying Dorothy's face with a pair of
keen gray eyes. "I've got something for her," he said.
"You bet she'll be tickled! She's coming out to see it."
Then appeared a dimple in the Crasher boy's freckled
cheek, and anybody whose heart kept a corner for boys
must have liked him.
"He's like our boys when they're good — if he is the
Crasher boy," said Dorothy to herself, feeling a little be-
wildered. He led the way into the shed with an air of
delighted mystery, and there, in a nest of straw, lay a sin-
gle, large, delicately tinted egg.
Dorothy's heart sank again ; it was a peahen's egg.
"It's M'randy's Easter egg," said the boy, with proud
delight. "We used to have Easters once, and M'randy
likes 'em. She — she cried because 'twas Easter, and we
hadn't any. So I got her that, and I'm goin' to buy
Peter Junkius's old white turkey for a dollar and a quar-
ter as soon as I get the money, and let her sit on the egg
and raise a peacock. Won't M'randy be tickled, though !
I'd have borrowed the old white turke}', only Peter Jun-
kins is so all-fired mean he won't lend her."
"Where did you get the egg?" Dorothy tried to speak
severely, but faltered.
The Crasher boy looked down, and kicked the straw
shamefacedly. "I borrowed old Miss Crayshaw's pea-
hen. I heard old Wimbledon say she was layin'. When
M'randy said she wished she had even an Easter egg, it
came right into my head what I'd do. I guess she'll like
that better'n one of those painted things with mottoes ami
ribbons! Didn't that old fowl squawk, though? I had to
'most smother her under my jacket, and didn't I have a
time getting out of the carriage-house window up there ! If
392
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"AN EASTER EGG AND A LILY TOO!"
they'd caught me they'd have took me up for a thief, too;
but I was bound M'randy should have her Easter. Wasn't
it lucky the old thing laid? I didn't expect she would;
she seemed so scared, and kept squawking so. I expected
nothing but what I'd get caught when I carried her back
last night!"
Dorothy felt that she ought to be severely reproving;
instead of that her eyes filled with sympathetic tears.
Lucky that Fidelia laid ? It seemed to Dorothy a blessed
Easter miracle— since Miss Crayshaw said she had laid
her litter — when she saw MYaiidy's shining eyes.
M'randy had come out wrapped in a shawl and hood,
although the April air was mild. The Crasher boy drew
the shawl tenderly around her when it slipped off. Her
little sharp eager face with its pain-knitted brows was
transfigured with delight.
"An Easter egg and a lily too! I don't know as I
ever had just what other folks have before!" she cried,
joyfully. "And will the egg really hatch? Shall I
have a peacock of my own?"
Dorothy could not answer for the success of the white
turkey's ministrations, but she made a mental calculation
with the aim of securing her services without delay.
"You may come in if you want to, "said M'randy, gra-
ciously, as Dorothy paused at the door. "I don't want
folks that think Phil is a bad boy, "she continued, with a
certain defiance — in spite of the lily.
Dorothy hesitated only a moment, then she walked in.
" He ought not to have borrowed the pea-
hen. He's like our boys — mixed," she said.
It was a clean little place, although
M'randy was ill, and there were signs
that the household affairs were attended
to after a boy's fashion. There were some
signs of refinement, which surprised Dor-
othy, until she took a book from the ta-
ble and read the name Eustace Cray-
shaw; there were other books with the
same surname. Crayshaw — Crasher.
Dorothy, who had never thought of the
resemblance, felt bewildered.
"We've got called Crasher, living
amongst poor folks," said the boy.
' 'Twas our grandfather that owned all
these mills once."
"Then you— you're a relation to Miss
Crayshaw?" cried Dorothy.
The Crasher boy nodded indifferently.
"She wouldn't want any tiling to do with
us — unless 'twas to chuck me into jail!"
he said.
" Your father was Eustace Crayshaw?"
repeated Dorothy, still bewildered ; and
the boy nodded again.
"He was little Eustace to me, "Miss
Crayshaw had said.
Dorothy walked home on air; perhaps
it was too good to come true — the de-
lightful dream that filled her brain; but
the world seemed full of spring and joy.
Was any dream or hope too great for
Easter- tide?
But the dream didn't seem likely to
come true when Dorothy told Miss Cray-
shaw of her discovery. She wondered
afterwards how she dared to do it; she
said to herself that she never should have
dared if she hadn't done it at white heat,
and if it hadn't been Easter! For Miss
Crayshaw was very proud, and the father
of these children was her brother who
had disgraced his family. She turned
white and was rigidly silent, and after-
wards for weeks she turned her head away when Doro-
thy went near the garden fence.
The white turkey performed her task as successfully as
if she had been born to the proud mission of mothering
peacocks, and was soon followed about by a queer, long-
legged, straggling fowl, whose harsh voice she tried in
vain to soften to a throaty gobble.
A sad fatality carried Fidelia off that summer — it was
the mowing-machine — and Miss Crayshaw took to her bed.
She had been ailing before; old Wimbledon expressed
the suspicion that " her mind was troubling her."
People were inclined to laugh because Miss Crayshaw
was so afflicted by her peahen's death. But there was
one person who did not laugh — M'randy.
One day Miss Crayshaw was astonished to see M'ran-
dy with a gawky, straggling, squawking creature in her
arms. Only its voice and a little sprouting blue and
gold about its wings proclaimed it a peacock.
" It's for you ! — for I know how it feels to be lonesome
without much of anybody that belongs to you," said
M'randy.
With firmness born of a mighty self-sacrifice Miss
Crayshaw turned away from her, and walked heavily to
and fro on the piazza. Suddenly she returned, took the
little sharp chin in her hand, and smoothed the thin
wispy hair over the crooked back. "You are the Crasher
boy's sister?" she said, hoarsely. "Go and bring him
here. I am going to take you both home!"
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
A Sequel to "The Fur-Seal's Tooth."
BY KIRK M UN ROE,
AUTHOR OF " DORYMATES," "CAMPMATES," " RAFTMATES," " CANOEMATES," ETC.
N
CHAPTER XI.
THE BOYS CARRY THEIR POINT.
EVER in his life had Phil Ryder been more per-
lato is a good one hundred and fifty miles beyond
here."
"Isn't it?" laughed the missionary. " Ancl, to cap
the climax, the same runner that brought that informa-
plexed than he was at the astonishing statement tion announced that you would undoubtedly be frozen
just made by Kurilla. It was incredible that his father
should be in that country. Why should he be? There
had been barely time for him to receive the letter sent
out by Nikrik, and he could not possibly have reached
the Yukon Valley since then.
"How do you know it is my father?" he demanded of
the native. "Has he been here? Did you see him?
Why didn't he wait until I came back?"
"Him no come. Him go up river. Me no see him.
You fadder? Yaas."
"What can the man mean?" asked Phil, in despair of
obtaining any intelligible explanation and turning to the
missionary for aid.
From that time until they reached the station, which
in before you had gone much further, whereupon Phil's
father began making preparations to follow and overtake
you by dog-sledges. He started the day before our in-
formant left the Redoubt, and was accompanied by two
other white men, though whether one of them was he
•who also came on the schooner, Kurilla did not find out.
So there you have the whole story as straight as it can
be obtained ; but, considering the channels through which
it has come, there is such an opportunity for errors that
I should not be at all surprised if a number had crept
into it."
"Nor I," admitted Phil, "though I can't doubt that
my father has arrived in this part of the country, impos-
sible as it may seem, for surely no one else could have
they found in a state of excitement over the news, the mis- any object in announcing himself as my father, or going
sionary questioned Kurilla in his own tongue, and by the
time they were inside the house he had gleaned all the
information the Indian possessed.
" He says," began the missionary, turning to his eager goose chase after me. I fancy I can see him at this mo-
audience, "that he obtained his news from a Nulato ment politely trying to breathe or to swallow raw seal in
to such trouble in hunting me up. Nor can I doubt that
having conceived some absurd notion that I am likely to
get into trouble, the dear old pop has set forth on a wild-
Indian, who left St. Michaels only three days ago, and
came by way of the Divide and the Anvik River. He is
a friend of Kurilla, and spent a couple of hours with
him this morning, after which he continued his journey.
According to him, as understood by Kurilla, a schooner
containing Phil's father and another white man reached
the Redoubt soon after the Chirno left. The other white
man was sick, so that none of the natives saw him; but
Phil's father spent his whole time making inquiries of
every one about the boys, and where they had gone,
what sort of a man they had gone with, and what chance
there was of overtaking them."
" I am afraid he did not receive a very flattering de-
scription of the man they had gone with," remarked
Gerald Hamer, who was
by this time out of the
hospital and able to join
the pleasant family circle.
"About that same
time," continued the mis-
sionary, " the revenue-
cutter Bear came down
from the northward,
bringing the crew of a
wrecked whaler, so that
some native hut, or careering over the river behind a
team of runaway dogs, or wrestling with the intricacies
of an Eskimo whip, or having some of the other delight-
ful experiences that he is certain to encounter. There
is one thing that won't bother him, though, and that is
snow-shoeing, for he learned that long ago in Canada.''
" How fond he must be of you," said the missionary's
wife.
"Yes, indeed, he is!" cried Phil. "And I of him,
for we are everything in the world to each other."
"And how anxious he must be," murmured the
teacher.
" I suppose so; though I don't see why he should be, for
he taught me to take care of myself long ago. I am be-
for a while there
many white
were
men and
much confusion at St.
Michaels. Then both the
Bear and the schooner
sailed away, taking most
of the white men with
them, but Phil's father
staid behind. By-and-by
news came from Nulato
that the Chi'itto had pass-
ed that point without
stopping, on her way up
the river."
"Which is news in-
deed," muttered Gerald
Hamer, " seeing that Nu-
THE EXHIBITION DRILL AT ANVIK.
394
HAEPEK'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
ginning to get pretty anxious about him, though, and it
seems to me that it is clearly my duty to organize a relief
expedition at once and go in search of him. What do
you say to that, Serge?"
" I say I should feel exactly as you do if he were my
mother," answered the lad from Sitka, who was imme-
diately afterwards covered with confusion by the out-
bursts of merriment that greeted his remark.
"I mean — " he stammered.
"Of course," interrupted Phil, teasingly, "we under-
stand. You mean that if my father were your mother,
in which case you and I would probably be brother and
sister, you would feel in duty bound to go in search of
him or her, as the case might be."
" Oh, you get out!" laughed Serge.
"The very thing I am proposing to do. And, really,
Captain Hamer, now that my father has appeared on the
scene, and gone up the river, I don't see how you can
any longer have an excuse for refusing to let Serge and
me follow after him. If we don't overtake him this
side of Fortv Mile, we shall certainly find him there.
Then we can all go out together by way of Chilkat, and
I know that out of gratitude for your great kindness to
me, if for no other reason, my father will gladly under-
take to place your order for goods in San Francisco."
"Your argument is certainly a strong one," admitted
Gerald Hamer, hesitatingly, "and it really begins to
look as though you had gained your point after all."
"And we ought to start as quickly as we can, "urged
Phil, eagerly, "in order to relieve my father's anxiety as
soon as possible, and also to prevent him from getting
lost, which, I am sure, any one is likely to do on the
Yukon. When it comes to procuring dogs for the trip,
I would advise you to buy Kurilla's team, if possible, for
I give you my word they are far and away the very best
lot of haulers I have ever driven. As for their feed, I
was invited to a certain wedding to-day, though I regret
that I was forced to decline the invitation, that resulted
in a sledge-load of prime dogfish — no, I don't mean that
either, for they were salmon — which, I believe, can be
bought cheap."
Thus rattling on and unhesitatingly offering advice on
all subjects connected with dog-sledging and snow-shoe-
ing, even going so far as to express the opinion that for
their work Norwegian skis would be far better than the
ordinary snow-shoe of the country, Phil succeeded
within a few minutes in establishing the fact that his
long-cherished expedition was really to be undertaken.
As he remarked in a low but exultant tone to Serge
after they had gone to bed that night: "Hurrah for
snow-shoes and sledges, old man! We have got them
at last, as I told you we would from the very beginning."
And Serge, who was almost asleep, roused himself
sufficiently to reply: "What did you say? Oh yes, I
know. Hurrah! Good-night."
Whereupon the Yankee lad disgustedly hurled a pillow
at him with such force as to effectually banish sleep and
provoke a retaliation that resulted in Phil's bed coming
down with a crash. Upon this its occupant remarked
that he always did despise civilized beds anyhow, and
that hemlock boughs in front of a rousing camp-fire were
good enough for him.
In the mean time some of the preliminaries of the tre-
mendous journey, to which the boys looked forward with
such delight and their elders with so many misgivings,
had been arranged that very evening. The best obtain-
able map of the Yukon was studied, and marked with
such private information as was possessed by the mis-
sionary.
"If you could only overtake them before reaching the
Tanana River," he said, reflectively, "you might cut off
the great arctic bend of the Yukon, and save several hun-
dred miles by going up the former river, crossing a di-
vide to a branch of Forty Mile Creek, and following it
down to the camp at its mouth. I suppose, though, they
will have passed the Tanana long before you get there,
and so you will be obliged to follow the great bend for
fear of missing them."
" I suppose so," assented Phil, "but I don't care. The
longer the trip the more fun we'll have."
"You will find it long enough before you get through,"
remarked Gerald Hamer, significantly.
"I hope so," returned the irrepressible lad. " I like to
have enough of a good thing."
An hour or more was devoted to making out a list of
the articles necessary for the trip. While from then un-
til the very time of departure Phil kept thinking of ami
adding new items to this list, Serge was kept equally busy
in trying to reduce its length.
Before Kurilla was dismissed that evening, both he and
his son Chitsah were engaged to accompany the boys at
least as far as Forty Mile, a distance of one thousand
miles, though beyond that point they would not promise
to go.
From Kurilla also Gerald Hamer agreed to purchase,
at his own price, his fine team of dogs, of which bushy-
tailed Musky was leader, big Amook and Mint were steer-
dogs, and Luvtuk and Shag completed the nimble-footed
quintet. This was hereafter to be known as Phil's
team, for having already had some experience in driving
them, it was believed that he could manage them belter
than dogs unaccustomed to his astonishing pronunciation
of the native words of command. Kurilla was to bring
them to him the very next morning to be fed, for in dog-
sledging it is a rule that every driver shall feed his own
team, in order to win their regard and persuade them that
he is not an unmitigated evil.
The season was now late November, and though the
morrow was Thanksgiving day, or believed to be such in
absence of any proclamation to that effect, it was to be
devoted to preparations, and the start was to be made at
sunrise of the following morning. Therefore Phil's last
words of that night were,
"I am dead tired, old man, but I want you to wake
me early all the same, for I shall have only one day in
which to feed my dogs and teach them to know me."
CHAPTER XII.
PHIL FEEDS HIS DOGS.
IT did not seem to Phil that he had any more than
closed his eyes before he was awakened by such a babel
of yelps and barkings as notified him that further sleep
was out of the question, and also that his dogs were wait-
ing to be fed. Hearty imprecations showered on the
heads of the vociferous team from the direction of Mr.
Sims's room and threats to treat them to a dose of duck-
shot so hastened Phil's movements that in a few seconds
he had slipped on his seal-skin boots and fur parka, and
was outside in the stinging cold. There in the moon-
light stood Kurilla, with a broad grin on his good-hu-
mored face, holding in leash Phil's team. Every mem-
ber of it, but big Amook loudest of all, was vigorously
demanding his three meals of the day before and the
one already due on the present morning, or four in all.
As Phil approached his team he called to Serge to
fetch him a knife; but almost as he uttered the words he
was given to understand that it was not needed.
With a savage spring Amook reached his side, seized
one of the big fish in his powerful jaws, and with a couple
of convulsive gulpings swallowed it whole. Having ac-
complished this feat he wagged his tail cheerfully, and
looked up into his young master's face as much as to say,
"That sample was so good that I think I'll take some
fish, if you please."
"Well, if you aren't an ostrich!" Phil started to say;
APRIL 9, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
395
but even as he opened his mouth to speak he was over-
thrown and instantly buried beneath an avalanche of
dogs. Incited by Amook's brilliant success, Musky, Mint,
Shag-, and Luvtuk followed his example, while the dogs
held by Chitsah broke loose at the same moment, and all
projected themselves with the energy of living catapults
toward the single flsli that Phil still held.
Both Kurilla and Chitsah instantly flung themselves
on top of the confused mass of howling animals, and for
the space of a minute the scene enacted in full view of
the aroused inmates of the station was equal to any first-
class football scrimmage. Women screamed, while men
shouted and ran toward the place of battle.
In another minute the fierce animals had been torn
apart, flung this way and that, and were sneaking off in
so many different directions with lowered tails. The two
Indians were breathlessly but calmly readjusting their
disordered garments, the salmon had disappeared, and
Phil, sitting on the hard-packed snow, was tenderly feel-
ing different parts of his body.
''Are you much hurt, old man?" cried Serge, anxiously,
as he reached his friend's side.
"Serge," replied Phil, solemnly, " did you ever hap-
pen to see a good little book called the Franklin Primer?"
" I don't think I ever did. Why '."
"Because it contains a picture that you would do well
to study. The picture is that of a small boy, with a very
anxious expression, hanging' by his hands from the outer
end of a branch that projects over a tropical river. Im-
mediately beneath him swim a dozen open-mouthed croc-
odiles regarding him with evident expectancy. Beneath
the picture is a legend to the effect that Johnny is about
to feed his pets. Now let's turn in again and finish out
our nap."
But there was too much to be done that day to admit
of further sleeping, and both lads quickly found them-
selves full of business. To begin with, stores for the ex-
pedition were to be selected and carefully packed. Of
these the largest single item was fish, to be used as dog
food, and with this one sledge was wholly laden. Then
came flour, tea, sugar, salt, bacon, hard bread, evaporated
fruit, a package of fine pemmican — which is made of dried
and pounded moose meat mixed with berries and boiling
fat in a rawhide bag, where it becomes perfectly solid —
oatmeal, a can of baking-powder, molasses, a case of
canned goods for special occasions, a quantity of reindeer-
back fat, to be used in place of butter or lard, and a few
pounds of tobacco for trading with Indians.
For cooking utensils there was first and most impor-
tant of all the chynik, or copper tea-kettle, and an extra
one in case of accident. Then came a long-handled fry-
pan, a large iron pot, a brass kettle, a saucepan, half a
dozen tin plates, as many cups, spoons, and forks. Be-
sides these there was a wash-basin, and each man carried
a knife in a sheath attached to his belt.
At the head of the miscellaneous list came a fine rifle
for Phil's especial use, and a double-barrelled shot-gun,
with an ample supply of fixed ammunition for both. Be-
sides these Kurilla would carry his well-beloved old flint-
lock musket. Then came three axes, one for each sledge,
two hatchets, a case of awls, another of needles, a supply
of stout thread and sinew for sewing, a thermometer, and
a bolt of cotton cloth to be used as wanted.
Most important of all for a winter journey in that re-
gion of arctic cold was the outfit of fur clothing with
which each of the boys was liberally provided, and some
of which was made that very day by the nimble fingers
of Indian women. In each case this consisted of a round,
close-fitting fur cap of marten-skin ; a heavy caribou par-
ka, or outer shirt, trimmed with wolverene and wolf skin;
an inner shirt of softest fawn-skin, trousers of Siberian
reindeer, boots of moose shank and seal, plenty of moc-
casins and fur-lined arctic socks, and two pairs of mittens
that reached to the elbow. Of these the outer pair was
of moose-hide, lined with heavy flannel, while the inner
pair, the right hand of which had a trigger finger as well
as a thumb, was made of lynx, with the fur inside.
A warm sleeping-bag for each boy was made by taking '
a fine and extra heavy Mackinaw blanket, lining it with
marmot-skins, fur side out. covering the other side with
stout canvas as a protection against sparks and the wet
of melting snow, and sewing up the edges. This, with a
small pillow filled with geese feathers and a large bear-
skin, constituted an arctic bed in which one might sleep
out-of-doors with comfort in the coldest weather.
These things, together with snow-shoes and native
snow-goggles, made of wood pierced with a long slit and
blackened on the inside, completed the outfit of our
young travellers. They were to use the iii[/a1ik, or regu-
lar Yukon sledge, which is much lighter than the Eski-
mo, or coast sledge, but heavier and stronger than the
Hudson Bay toboggan commonly used in the inte-
rior.
The getting together of these things occupied all hands
for the greater part of the day, though after satisfying-
himself as to his outfit of fur garments, Phil left the rest
to Serge and Gerald Hamer, for he had another very im-
portant duty to perform. This was arranging the exhi-
bition drill of his native soldier boys, who had looked
forward to it with such eagerness that he could not bear
to disappoint them.
Noon was the hour appointed for this most important
event, and by that hour the space reserved for spectators
was occupied by every inhabitant of the native vil-
lage.
For some minutes the excitement was kept at fever
heat by strange sounds issuing from behind the closed
school - house doors, where the company was forming.
Then the door was flung open, and to the measured beat-
ing of a drum the dusky company marched forth in
single file, headed by Big Sidorka. who still wore the
badge of honor that made him the envied of all his fel-
lows. Phil came last, and at his command of, "Com-
pany, halt! Right face! Eight dress! 'Tention!" the
long line stood straight and motionless facing their awe-
stricken relatives.
Then came in rapid succession the sharp crisp orders
now so familiar to nearly every school-boy in the United
States, but never before heard by the public of Anvik:
"Present arms! Carry arms! Right shoulder arms!"
and the rest, until every movement of the manual had
been executed with a promptness and precision that drew
forth a storm of applause from the delighted spectators.
But when Phil handed his wooden sword to Sergeant
Sidorka, and the company was put through the same
drill without a mistake by one of their own number, the
enthusiasm of the on-lookers knew no bounds.
At the conclusion of the exercises Phil promoted Ser-
geant Sidorka to the captaincy.
That evening Gerald Hamer gave Phil a list of
goods that the Chimo would take to the Forty Mile Min-
ing Camp in the spring, and the prices at which they
would be sold. He also gave him money enough to de-
fray the expenses of a trip to San Francisco, and a long-
letter of instruction to the agent of the new trading-
company in that city. This Phil was to supplement by
a verbal statement of the condition of affairs in the Yu-
kon diggings, and the class of goods most in demand.
Thus was everything made ready for the morrow 011
which Phil and Serge were to set forth on a miihvini'-i
search through the vast Alaskan wilderness for the for-
mer's dearly loved father, and begin the tremendous jour-
ney which they hoped would carry them to the very
head-waters of the Yukon, and finally laud them in green
Sitka town.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
396
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
A MODEL POULTRY HOUSE.
EAISING AND KEEPING OF PETS.
CHICKENS AND THE CHICKEN-COOP.
BY E. CHASE.
THE poultry house I have drawn here has all the ne-
cessary requirements of a practical house, and at the
same time it is easy to construct.
The outline drawing is, I think, so simple that it does
not require much explanation. The house is six and
three-quarter feet high at the peak of the roof, which
gives the owner room to stand up when cleaning it.
This is an advantage, as cleanliness is one of the most
necessary things towards keeping the fowls healthy.
The window, which is a single greenhouse sash, is ar-
ranged so as to admit as much light as possible. It
should face the south, so that in winter the interior of
the house will receive the full benefit of the sun.
The floor should be raised three or four inches from
the ground. It measures five and a half feet square, which
is enough room for half a dozen hens. On the floor are
placed the nests. These you will notice have a shelf over
them (Fig. 3) just far enough above the nests to allow
the hen to get in and out comfortably, and slightly over-
hanging. Tbe object of a nest like this is to give the hen
a feeling of secrecy, which she greatly appreciates. Fill
' the nests with clean straw, and in each one place a nest-
egg.
Over the nests, from
two and a half to three
feet, place the roosts.
Have them set firmly into
cleats, fastened to the
sides of the house, so that
they can be removed
when it is necessary to go
into the house to clean
it. Keep the floor sprin-
kled with sawdust, and
whitewash the interior
of the house once every
two or three months.
The yard is eight and
a half feet long by five
and a half feet wide, at
the farther end of which
is a gate. I should ad-
vise covering the top of
the yard, as well as the
sides and end, with wire
netting, as it both guards
against any of your fowls
getting away or stray
cats or animals getting
in.
In summer-time I
should advise stretching
a canvas over the. yard,
to protect the chickens
from the sun. Dig up the
yard frequently, as it
gives the chickens some-
thing to do to scratch for
worms, etc.
In feeding, the follow-
ing diet is a very good
one, but it can be varied,
as circumstances admit.
In the morning give
them corn meal, mixed
with enough hot water
to make a thick "mush,"
and add a very little red
pepper in winter. At noon-time give them whatever the
cook has to spare — pieces of bread, bones, etc., etc., and at
night, corn, wheat, or in fact any grain, sprinkled about,
so that the chickens will have to hunt for it.
Chickens are subject to a number of diseases. When-
ever one goes about sneezing, rasping at the throat, or
showing- signs of disease, separate it from the others, and
keep it in a separate coop. If it does not show signs of
improvement, it is better to wring its neck than to have
it spread disease to the rest of the flock.
•About the kind of chickens to keep, that is best de-
cided by the fancier himself. When I commenced to
raise chickens, I had only two common hens and a
rooster. As soon as the hens showed signs of setting, I
purchased some "buff Cochin" eggs (as that was the
kind of chicken I had set my heart upon), and from these
I secured as fine a yard of birds as one would wish to see.
They attracted the notice of people round about, and I
had no difficulty in selling both the eggs and chickens at
prices higher than are usually paid for poultry. A set-
ting of eggs (thirteen) is worth from one to two dollars,
according to the time of year. There are papers pub-
lished exclusively for the poultry trade. In these you
will find advertisements of people who have eggs for sale.
Do not have the hens and roosters related. Trade the
roosters off with some fancier who keeps the same kind
as yourself. He will be only too glad to do so, as it is an
advantage to him as well.
oo
Scale - 3ft
FlG. 1.
FIG. 2.
APRIL 9, 1S95.
RASPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
397
FIG. 3.
Keep a box of pounded oyster or clam shells where
the chickens can get at it, also a pan of fresh water
handy.
JOE GRIFFIN'S GREAT JUMP.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
" ri^HE Marshal would give a foot to get the plans of
J_ that fort."
'' I know it, and I wish we could wipe his eye by get-
ting them for him."
The speakers were Hikoiclii Len and Matsada Orita, two
junior officers on the Japanese cruiser Yed-Sin. For sev-
eral weeks the vessel had been cruising
in the waters off Port Arthur, awaiting
the decisive moment when the army was
to effect a combination with the navy in
an attempt to capture that important
stronghold. All that the plans now
lacked of completion was the knowledge
of the interior arrangements of a certain
fort, the most formidable of those which
guarded the entrance to the harbor.
The sun was sinking red and threaten-
ing, sending long wavering streamers of
crimson across the undulating surface
of the sea. The crimson rays fell upon
the polished brass-work of the Yed-Sin.
and made it gleam like iron in the forge,
while they lit up the dark shiny chases
of her guns with a fitful glare. The
cruiser was rolling uneasily as she
slipped slowly along at a four-knot gait.
She was waiting within signalling-dis-
tance of the shore for a communication
from a party that had been sent ashore
to try to get a message through to the
advance column of the army.
"I fear that the expedition will be a
failure," said Len.
" Why?" asked Orita.
"Because that young American is
witli it."
" Oh, Griffin? Well, he is a little too
bold in his ventures, but somehow he
has a faculty of landing on his feet."
"Hello! There goes a green rocket.
That means that the party is in trouble."
It was true. Away over on the laud
some miles back of Port Arthur a green
rocket had soared into the air. The
next instant the engine - room bells
clanged, and the Yed- Sin's propellers
turned up to full speed. As the cruiser
gathered headway the bugles sounded,
"Arm and away for distant service,"
meaning that a landing party was to be
sent out to the rescue. For several min-
utes there was a general bustle about the deck as some men
went to their stations, and others hastened to provide the
necessary equipments for the boats. The cruiser, mean-
while, steamed steadily ahead, and in the course of half
an hour was within a mile of the shore. Here she came
to a stop, and orders were given to lower away the boats.
At that instant a red rocket shot up from the beach.
"Avast there!" cried the Executive Officer. "Keep
fast with the boats."
The red rocket meant that the signal party had es-
caped and was coming off. Rapid firing of small arms
followed the ascent of the rocket, but it ceased in a few
minutes, and all was silent, till the puffing of the steam-
launch which had taken the party in was heard. Two
or three minutes later the party came aboard, and the of-
ficer in charge of it reported that all had escaped except
the American cadet, Griffin, who had resigned from the
United States navy to enter that of Japan.
"We were in a deep ravine, well sheltered by woods,"
he said, "and were making our way cautiously, when I
heard a suspicious sound to our left. I knew that the
army column was a long distance away on our right, and
so I ordered every one to keep the strictest silence. I
was endeavoring to select a suitable man to send forward
to reconnoitre, when I missed Griffin. I remembered then
that he had always burned for an opportunity for per-
sonal distinction, and I was sure that he had slipped away
to make observations oil his own account. I foresaw the
GOODNESS!" EXCLAIMED THE OFFICER, "IT IS GRIFFIN."
398
HAKPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
result, and at once gave orders to retreat as quietly as
possible to the boat. My conclusion was justified five
minutes later, when a shot was heard in our rear and fire
was opened on us. If we had remained in the ravine we
would have been captured. As for Griffin, I am sure he
walked right into the arms of the enemy."
The officer was commended for his judgment and en-
ergy. The Executive Officer frowned when he mentioned
Griffin's name, and then shrugged his shoulders.
" I don't wonder lie shrugs his shoulders," said Len.
"Nor I," responded Orita. "We shall never see the
unhappy American boy again."
Joe Griffin, with his hands tied behind his back and a
bandage over his eyes, had just come to a similar conclu-
sion. He had, indeed, walked straight into the arms of a
party of Chinese scouts sent out to watch the Japanese land-
ing party. If he had not left his companions, they might
have passed the scouts unnoticed in the darkness. Now
the landing expedition had failed, and he was being led
over roots and rocks a prisoner. He had no idea where
he was going, but he felt pretty sure that he would never
come back, for the Chinese had an unpleasant way of
murdering prisoners taken, as he was, on the pretext that
they were spies. For two hours the rough march con-
tinued, and then Joe heard the challenge of sentries and
was aware that they were entering an armed post. Day
was breaking, and when the bandage was removed from
his eyes he saw in the brief time he had that he was in-
side of a strong fort. A hasty glance through an em-
brasure showed him the sea, and, far away upon the
horizon, the sharply outlined form of the Yed-Sin.
" Great Scott!" he exclaimed, mentally. "I'm in the
very fort of which they want the plans so badly."
He had no further time for thought, for they led him
to his prison. It was a simple kind of jail. It was a
rude wooden hut built against the wall of the fort on the
side furthest from the sea. Joe noted, as he entered it,
that it was close to an embrasure through which he could
see a large bay.
"I understand," he thought. " This fort stands on the
extreme end of the point of entrance to the harbor of
Port Arthur. But how on earth am I to profit by that
knowledge?"
Once inside the prison, Joe found that there were nu-
merous crevices through which he could see the interior
of the fort.
" I wonder how long I have to live?" he reflected.
" Anyhow, I'm going to be prepared for any fate."
So saying he began to rummage through the pockets
•of his coat.
"Oh, dear!" he exclaimed, "I have not a scrap of
paper nor a pencil."
Then he went through his trousers pockets.
"Hello! What's this? A box of matches. Oh, I re-
member; I put them there when I started, thinking we
might need them if we camped out. They'll do for pen-
cils; and this is as good as paper."
He stripped himself of his shirt, and tore a small piece
out of its light bosom.
" Now let's see what we can see," he murmured, apply-
ing his eye to a crack. "That's the south front over
there. I've got to make this plan mighty small, haven't
I? If I don't, I shall not be able to conceal it in case I
do get a chance to escape. They don't seem to be watch-
ing me very closely, either; but it's just like them."
At that instant he heard a noise at the door, and he had
barely time to thrust his piece of linen into a crack be-
fore a Chinese officer entered, followed by a soldier bear-
ing some food.
"You hungry?" asked the officer, in a dialect known
to both parties in the war.
:i Yes,"'answered Joe.
"Good. Eat. To-morrow, sunrise, you head cut off."
Joe looked around nervously.
" No escape," continued the officer. "Three sides of
fort water. Fort eighty feet high on rocks — straight
down — water very deep. Other side woods — full of our
soldiers. No escape."
The officer smiled, and, with the soldier, departed.
" Many thanks for your information," said Joe. "So
we're eighty feet up on perpendicular rocks, with plenty
of water at the bottom, eh? How high did they tell me
the Constellation's foretopsail-yard was?"
Joe sat in a brown-study for some time. Then he sud-
denly exclaimed :
" I'll try it, if I get half a chance."
He set to work again with fresh energy at his plan of
the fort, making it as small as possible. When it was
done he folded it up tightly. Next he ripped out the
light leather lining of his cap, and tearing off a small
piece folded it around his little plan. With great patience
he now picked a long thread out of one of the seams of
his shirt, and with this tied his diminutive package se-
curely.
"Will it go?" he muttered.
He put it in his mouth.
"It goes," he thought, with a smile, "and room to
spare. Thanks be to nature for giving me a big mouth."
The day passed very slowly indeed for Joe. As night
approached he became more and more anxious. At sun-
down he discovered that two sentinels were posted out-
side his hut, and thatfthey began to walk up and down in
such a way that they were at opposite ends of their posts
at the same time.
"That's good," said Joe, as he set to work at the fast-
enings of the door.
He had only bis knife, but it served his purpose, and
by ten o'clock he was ready to make his attempt. But at
that hour the sentries were still too wide awake, and there
were too many persons stirring about the enclosure.
So he gritted his teeth, and, gripping his little packet in
his hand, walked up and down anxiously. The hours
crawled on leaden feet, but still they did pass; arid about
one o'clock in the morning' Joe decided that the sentinels
were sleepy enough for his purpose. He took off his
shoes and stockings and his trousers, and stood in his
light underclothing.
" I believe the old Constellation's tops'1-yard was about
sixty, and this is eighty. I don't think twenty feet more
will make much difference when it's for life. What's
the use of being the champion diver and long-distance
swimmer of the Academy if you can't — Well, here goes."
The sentinels were lounging drowsily at the farther
ends of their posts. Joe loosened the last slight fasten-
ing, swung the door gently back, put his little packet in
his mouth, drew two or three long breaths, shut his
teeth, and jumped out.
His first bound took him to the corner of the hut. His
second carried him into the embrasure beside the muzzle
of the big gun. For a single instant he steadied himself;
then he jumped straight out into the blackness.
Down, down he went, the air rushing past his ears with
a roar like thunder. But he realized that he was holding
his balance and falling feet first, and the old thrill of ex-
citement ran through him again as he renewed the sensa-
tions of his famous Academy jumps from the foretopsail-
yard.
Crash !
He was in the water, shooting toward the bottom at
terrific speed. Now he turned the soles of his feet flat
against the water, and spread out the palms of his hands.
Gradually he came to a stop, and began to rise. A few
downward strokes helped him. But he was almost spent.
He could feel the throbbings of his heart and the heavy
surging of the blood, while his chest heaved with the con-
vulsive struggles of his lungs to breathe. Stars began to
APRIL 9, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
399
dance before his eyes, and the poor boy -was ready to
open his mouth and drown, when, to his intense joy, his
head shot out of the water. He turned on his back and
floated for a few moments to rest himself. He listened
intently. Yes, there were noises in the air above him.
His escape was discovered. He swam right in to the foot
of the cliff, and was fortunate enough to find a projection
on which he could rest in the deep shadow. He remain-
ed there only a few minutes. He slipped into the water
again, and swam around the point to the sea-front of the
fort. Fortunately there was hardly any sea on, and he
found another projection, on which he rested for a time.
" If they think I'm in the water," he reflected, "they'll
search for me on the other side."
The boy took a good rest, made sure that he was not
hurt, and then started on his long swim along shore. He
finally passed the limit of the rocks, and reached a shelv-
ing beach. He went ashore, and was amazed and over-
joyed to find a small boat partly concealed in the bushes.
In ten minutes he had it in the water, and was bound out
to sea.
Just as the light of morning was beginning to make
objects at sea discernible the lookout oil the cruiser fed-
Sin called out:
"Boat ho!"
"Where away?" asked the officer of the deck.
" Right abeam, sir, to windward. It looks like a small
boat with one man in it."
The cruiser dropped down toward the boat, and its oc-
cupant was ordered to come aboard. A bedraggled, stag-
gering, ghastly figure ascended to the deck.
"Goodness!" exclaimed the officer of the deck, no oth-
er than Orita, "it's Griffin."
The swaying boy put his hand to his mouth and taking
out the little packet threw it on the deck. "And there
are the plans of that fort," he said, after Which he fainted.
A week later Port Arthur was captured.
THE JEOPARDIZING OF THE EASTER EGGS,
BY ALBERT LEE.
T1HE room was (lark and silent, and the Swiss clock ou the
wall opposite the fireplace had stopped again. This occur-
rence was always taken advantage of by the industrious Cuckoo
and the patient Gnome to go over to the fender and convei-se
•with the Leopard-skin and the two Statuettes. Of late, too,
they had allowed the plaster cast of a Barye Bear to come down
off the piano and join the conclave.
"It is really too bad," began the Cuckoo, on this particular
occasion, " that the Leopard-skin should always be so ill-tem-
pered. He growls and snarls auil wrinkles up his back all the
time."
"The first thing you know," snapped the Leopard-skin, " I'll
grab you up and make a meal of you."
" You cau't do that," laughed the Cuckoo, " because you
haven't any place to swallow me into."
" I'm not so flat as I look," retorted tbe rug.
" Well, you're uot oversharp," added the bird.
"The Cuckoo and the Leopard-skin are at it again," mur-
mured the Dresden-china Shepherdess. "Isn't it awful? You
might expect a Bear to growl a good deal, but the Leopard-skin
quarrels all the time; he never stops."
"You can't expect a Leopard to change his spots," said the
Gnome.
"What does lie mean by that?" asked the Shepherdess.
" I don't know," replied the Shepherd. " Perhaps —
But here the Leopard-skin broke in with : " Of course I won't
change my spots. I'm a Leopard. A Leopard never changes
his spots. Did you take me for a Jeopard?"
" What's a Jeopard?" asked the Dresden-china Shepherdess.
Nobody answered for a moment, and so the Barye Bear thought
it was a good opportunity for him to get into the conversation.
" A Jeopard," bega.ii the Bear in hollow tones, for he was only
a plaster cast — "a Jeopard is an animal that looks just like a
Leopard."
" But he is not a Leopard," said the Gnome.
"Of course not. He's different. He only looks like a Leopard.
But a Leopard won't change his spots, and a Jeopard will."
" How very peculiar!" said the Shepherdess. "What does he
change them for .'"
" Well, he'll change them for anything," continued the Barye
Bear. "And not always for the better. There is not anything
a Jeopard won't do. He will risk anything, and take all sorts
of chances. That's what it means when folks talk about jeop-
ardizing things."
"Perhaps the Gnome knows a story about a Jeopard," sug-
gested the Cuckoo.
" I think I can remember one," said the Gnoine.
" Oh, do tell it to us," exclaimed the Shepherdess. " We've
got a whole hour before dawn."
" Well, it's a very short story," continued the Gnome; "and
if you won't interrupt, I'll tell it to you."
They all agreed they would not interrupt him, and the Gnome
began :
" This Jeopard that I am going to tell you about, lived ill the
wood that surrounds the hill where all the Easter Hens used to
go to lay their Easter eggs."
"Where is that?" asked the Shepherdess, timidly.
" Now you all said you would not interrupt," cried the Gnome,
somewhat impatiently ; and both the Barye Bear and the Leop-
ard-skin growled. Then he proceeded:
"The Easter Hens used to come to this hill every year just
before Easter, and lay their Easter eggs. There was a Leopard
that lived in a cave ou the hill-side, and although he was not a
very reputable beast in other respects, he used to watch over
the Easter eggs when the Hens went away. And furthermore,
he used to mark ou his spots who each egg was intended for, so
that there would be no mistake in the distribution."
" Sort of a bookkeeper," put in the Cuckoo, contemptuously.
" Shut up!" snarled the Leopard-skin.
The Gnome looked displeased, but kept on :
"One Easter, however, the Leopard was taken ill, and wheu
the Easter Hens came to the hill to leave their eggs they did not
know what to do without their friend the Leopard. But the
Jeopard was there, and had spots just like the Leopard, and he
said he would keep track of the eggs if the Hens wished him to.
So it was arranged that the Jeopard should superintend the
annual distribution ou Easter morning, and his spots were all
marked with the names of those for whom the eggs were in-
truded.
" But on Easter eve a Wolf came along that way, and invited
the Jeopard to go with him to a sheepfold he knew of and have
some Spring Lauib.
" ' But yon cau't go like that,' said the Wolf. ' I look like a
dog, and will pass muster; but you look like a Leopard, and the
Lambs will run away.'
" ' I'll fix that,' answered the Jeopard. ' I'll change my spots.'
" So lie changed his spots, and the two started off together.
When the Jeopard returned he put on his spots again ; but, of
course, he got them on all wrong. Then the sun rose very
bright, as it always does ou Easter day, and the first one to come
for his Easter egg was the Chipinoiik.
" ' Which is my egg?' he asked.
" But the Jeopard could not tell him, because his spots were
all changed about. Then the Musk-rat came, and he, too, was
disappointed.
" ' I'm not a Leopard. I'm a Jeopard,' snarled the guilty ani-
mal, and then there was a great commotion. The old sick Leop-
ard came up out of his cave to see what the trouble was.
" ' The Jeopard changed his spots!' cried the Chipnionk.
'• ' He did, did he?' growled the Leopard. ' Well, I'm pretty
bad sometimes, hut you can at least always depend upon me.'
"And so saying, he rushed at the Jeopard, and beat him and
bit him and chewed ott' all his spots, so that no one would ever
mistake him for a Leopard again. And the other animals sat
around and encouraged him. When the Jeopard had finally
been whipped into a new shape the Leopard let him go."
"And where did he go to?" asked the Cuckoo.
"Nobody knows. He's never been seen since."
''And what became of the Easter eggs?" asked the Shep-
herdess.
" They drew lots for the eggs."
"And now," concluded the Gnome, "the Leopard always looks
after the Easter eggs, because he never changes his spots."
" Well, I'm glad there is one thing in his favor." remarked the
Cuckoo. And then, as the dawn began t<> break, they all re-
turned to their respective places, and looked forward into an-
other day.
THE CONSTABT.K. " Now don't let me ketch you
youngsters slidin' on this hill again, or you'll Lev The youngsters show contempt for the law.
the law on yer."
'Me and Jane can look out for the law, I guess."
A NATURAL ERROR.
"On, mamma," said the small boy from the city when he first
saw a robin, "coine look at this little sparrow with a red flan-
iiel shirt on."
THE THING TO HAVE DONE.
"MY (loll is very sick," said Polly, mournfully.
"Yes," said Jenuie ; "she looks very waxy. You ought to have
her waxiuated."
NOT HIS FAULT.
MOTHER (to Frank). "How is it that you're late Lome nearly
every da\ .'"
FIJAXK. "Well, no wonder; we've got such a big clock in our
school."
MOTHER. " Why, what has the clock to do with it?"
FKAXK. '-''Cause it's so big, it takes the hands an a\vfnl long
while to get around it. If we had a clock like papa's little one,
I'd get home a great deal quicker."
BERTIE'S ORTHOGRAPHY.
MAXIMA. "Can you spell February, Bertie ?"
BEKTIE. " Yes, mamma."
MAMMA. "Well, let me hear you."
BERTIE. "I have forgotten how."
MAMMA. " But you just said you could spell it."
BERTIE. " So I can ; but not here. I can only remember how
it goes in school."
'• MAMMA," said a little five-year-old boy, " when will I be old
enough to go to school?"
" Oh, not for some time yet, I hope," replied his mother. " But
I thought your ambition was to become a soldier, Bobby ?"
"Yes. mamma, so it is. I want to go to school and learti how
to fight like brother Carl !"
" I'VE got a better memory than you, mamma."
"Why so?"
" 'Cause papa says I remember things that never happen."
BETTER STILL.
THE postmaster's boy and the professor's boy were playing
together. A question of precedence arose, and the professor's
'boy exclaimed, "You ought to let me go first! My father's an
A.M."
" HuL !" replied his companion. ''That's nothing. My fa-
ther's a P.M."
A MASSACHUSETTS school-boy whrn asked to give a definition
of oxygen replied, "A little boy cow."
"On, mamma!" exclaimed Arthur, looking ruefully at the
small piece of pie which had been placed upon his plate. " Why
didn't the cook put some shortening into yours and papa's too f
" WHAT'S the matter, dear ? Have you got a cold ?"
" A cold f I've got two."
"My! How so?"
"I've got one in my head and one in my throat."
TOMMY'S BLOSSOM THINK.
TOMMY. "Ain't these nice sweet apple blossoms, mamma?"
MAMMA. "Yes. Tommy."
TOMMY. "And isn't it funny, mamma, how they can grow up
into such sour apples."
MOTHER. " Girls, you dou't know how near President Culture-
fail came to running over me to day."
GIIILS (disappointedly). "Oh, mamma! You might have been
so distinguished !"
Oi.i> MK. GROOT (watching tin pursued and not
'Two can play that ere game as well as one." sceiinj the approaching pursuer). "These ashes will
fix tbe next one."
And Mr. Grout was quite correct.
AN UNEXPECTED RESULT.
HARPE
* — "
35
'Ji
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1895, by HAKPKB & BROTHRRS. All Rights Re!
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 807.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, APRIL 16, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLAUS A YEAH.
THE LONGMEADOW TOLL=QATE.
BY W. G. VAN TASSEL SUTPHEN.
Part £-.
BICYCLE that will run itself up hill, and beat
upon a level the best trotter in Polk County —
that's the sort of bicycle I should like to own," thought
Fred March, as he looked over the handles of his sixty-
three-inch wheel at Long Hill looming dark and high
before him. It was a happy thought, and, as is usual-
ly the case, there was another and even happier one
treading close upon its heels, or, rather, it was waiting
for Fred at the top of the hill.
"I'll talk to father about it," was this second inspira-
tion, and with the Napoleonic promptitude that generally
means success he acted upon it at once.
Mr. March senior was a manufacturer of blackboards,
and owned an extensive plant in the little village of Fair-
acre. The Fairacre buckboards were known and sold all
over the country as the very best thing of the kind, but M r.
March himself was of the opinion that there was nothing'
so good that could not be made just a little better if one
only worked with that end in view. As a matter of con-
sequence there was not a finer machine-shop ill the State
than the one owned by March & Co., and it was gener-
ally believed that it was equal to anything in the line of
mechanical construction.
"There is no reason why it shouldn't be done," said
Mr. March, thoughtfully, as Fred proceeded to unfold his
magnificent idea. ''But your working plans are rather
incomplete; I'll think it over for a day or two."
402
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"Thinking it over" was one thing, but "thinking it
out " was quite a different process. It took several months
of experimenting before success even appeared in sight,
but one fine day in late December Mr. March announced
that the "happy thought" was ready for inspection.
It was an odd-looking machine as it stood in the loft
over the foundry, secure from the observation of over-
curious eyes. " I built it as a tandem," said Mr. March,
"because I thought that it was quite enough for one per-
son to do the steering, without having to attend to the
motive power as well."
"I'll have Jack Howard for engineer," said Fred,
promptly. "Gee whiz! what tires!"
They did look odd, for they were fully three times as
large as the ordinary pneumatic tubes. But, as Mr. March
explained, it was evident that they would run much more
smoothly over rough roads, and with their large bearing
surface would be much less liable to slip in mud or snow.
The wheels themselves were slightly smaller in diameter
than the ordinary ones, but were constructed on precisely
the same principle. The tubular frame-work differed only
from the regular pattern in that it extended for about a
foot behind the rear wheel, serving as a base for the two
cylinders, that worked very much like those on a loco-
motive. There were two or three other mysterious-look-
ing appliances, but the handle-bars and saddle were of
the ordinary style. There were pedals, too, but they
worked on the ratchet principle, as in the old-time "Star"
bicycles.
It would hardly be fair to Mr. March to describe the
motive power in detail, since his patent is still pending,
but it is safe to say that it was an ingenious modification
of the principle upon which the hot-air engine is con-
structed. The cylinders took the power from one end
only, the parts being therefore few in number and not
liable to get out of order. The power was generated
from naphtha or gasoline stored in a reservoir, and ad-
mitted drop by drop into the cylinder heads, mixed with
common air, and then exploded by an electric spark from
a storage battery. The expansion of the gas drove the
piston forward, and the exhaust was made into the open
air. By increasing the flow of oil the machine could be
sent along at a speed regulated only by the condition of
the road-bed and the nerve of the steersman. Finally,
it was only necessary to start the machine with the ped-
als before applying the power. A touch of the electric
button, a pull at the lever, and the laws of physics and
mechanics did the rest.
Mr. March was obliging enough to coach Jack Howard
in his duties as engineer, and the Happy Thought — so
Fred had christened her — had her trial trip that very af-
ternoon. As there was no steam-boiler to explode nor
dangerous current of electricity to handle, the boys were
allowed to experiment as they pleased, and they found
but little difficulty in learning how to manage and con-
trol the movements of the Happy Thought. Everything
worked perfectly from the start, and with a full supply
of oil the machine was good for fifty miles without a
stop.
It was Friday, and the boys had spent the greater part
of the afternoon in cleaning up and otherwise preparing
the Happy Thought for a long trip on Saturday. As
Fred passed the livery - stable on his way home two
strangers drove into the yard. It was almost dark, but he
noticed that the team looked as though they had been
driven at top speed. Both horses were blown, and the
men were evidently trying to get a fresh rig. The pro-
prietor of the stable looked rather suspiciously at the
strangers, who had their coat collars well turned up, and
were moreover still further disguised by enormous silk
mufflers — ostensibly as a protection against the night air.
But there was the deposit in bright-shining double eagles,
and business was rather dull. It was only a matter of a
few minutes to hitch up the best pair of roadsters in Fair-
acre, and the two men, who had not left the wagon, were
quickly down the road and out of sight. As they rattled
out of the yard something dropped from the pocket of the
man who was driving. Fred picked it up and looked at
it. It was a revolver, bright and new, and with every
chamber loaded.
" It's odd that I haven't been able to get Jefferson
Court-house all afternoon," said the Fail-acre telephone
operator to Fred, a few moments later. " I've rung 'em
up a dozen times, but I don't get a whisper."
"Well, I want to talk with Longmeadow. Jack and
I are going down to the river to-morrow, and we'd like to
know about the roads. Call them up, will you?"
"Now that's the funniest thing yet," returned the op-
erator, as he gave the handle of the gong another twist.
" I was talking to Longmeadow not five minutes ago, and
now he won't reply. Gone out, or asleep mebbe."
" Hym I First Jefferson, and then Longmeadow — there
must be something more than funny in that. How about
those two fellows who changed horses here ; could they
have had anything to do with it? They came from the
direction of Jefferson, and they've gone straight to the
Longmeadow pike."
The operator stared at Fred doubtfully. He was not a
man to take in an idea rapidly, so he said nothing, and
rang his bell again.
" Hello!" said Fred, as a man galloped by at top speed
in the direction of the hotel. "There's Sheriff Jones
from Jefferson ; and now I know there's something up."
He ran down the street, stopping only long enough to
give two short sharp whistles before Jack Howard's house.
It was their private call, and he knew that Jack would be
quickly on hand.
The Sheriff was standing on the hotel steps, surrounded
by an excited knot of men. ".Twenty thousand dollars
in gold and bank-notes," Fred heard him say. as he el-
bowed his way in. "It was a mighty slick job for
'Smooth Jim' and his pal. One of 'em held up the
cashier with his gun, while the other fellow went through
the safe. Not another soul in the bank, and they made
a clean sweep, walked out, jumped into their buckboard,
and drove off as chipper as you please. Ten minutes
after the teller walks in from dinner, and finds Mr. Cash-
ier gagged and tied and rolled under the counter. Of
course they had cut the telephone wires the first tiling,
and they had a good twenty minutes' start of me. Jeru-
salem ! I meant to stop at the office here; they're sure to
steer for Longmeadow and the river."
"The Longmeadow wire is dead," interrupted Fred,
quickly.
The Sheriff, who did not appear to possess either the
decision or the presence of mind that is supposed to be a
distinguishing virtue of his office, pulled nervously at his
ginger-colored beard, and opened his mouth several times
without saying anything.
" I can't give you a critter that '11 catch those fellows,"
put in Garvey, the livery-stable-keeper. "They've got
my Morgans, who are good for twelve miles an hour easy,
and they've been gone fifteen minutes now."
There was a babel of voices, and a hundred useless sug-
gestions from the by-standers. Fred beckoned to Jack,
who had just come running up, and made a few hasty
figures on an old letter back.
The situation was indeed very simple, and all in favor
of the bank-robbers, whose plans had evidently worked
to perfection. Neither Jefferson nor Fail-acre was on
the railroad, and their only means of communication
with the outside world was the now useless telephone
wire. Longmeadow, which was thirty miles away, was
the nearest point to the river. It was evident that they
would not risk the railroad, but would make straight for
the water, where a steam launch or row-boat would be in
APRIL 16, 1895.
HAEPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
403
waiting for them. Once on the other side they would be
out of the State, and have time in which to make good
their escape. The men had left Fail-acre at pi-ecisely five
o'clock, behind a pair of horses that at twelve miles an
hour would bring them to the river at half past seven.
It was now twenty minutes past five, and there was not a
horse in or around Fail-acre that could travel with Bill
Garvey's Morgans on even terms, let alone catch up with
them.
" But the Happy Thought can do it," concluded Fred,
as he rapidly ran through the facts in the case for his
astonished partner's benefit ; " and if you say so, it's a go."
"I'm with you," responded Jack, with sententious
brevity; he was a young gentleman of few words, but
they were generally to the point. "I'll go and get her
out."
" And put on the third seat for the Sheriff," sung out
Fred, as Jack disappeared around the corner.
"We'll be ready to start by half past five," thought
Fred, "and the moon '11 be up by then. Luckily it isn't
cold, and the roads are good. I calculate that we can
catch them at Longmeadow toll-gate, half a mile above
the landing, which will be doing a little better than fif-
teen miles an hour. Now for the Sheriff."
Mr. Jones, who had accepted the inevitable with phi-
losophic composure, and was engaged in whittling up an
•end of plug tobacco preparatory to indulging in a com-
forting smoke, was not inclined at first to look upon
Fred's proposition with favor.
"Trust myself on that rampin', roarin', wild - higine
critter of yourn — not much ! Why, boy, you're clean
plumb crazy. Besides, them fellers has a gun."
"No, they haven't." said Fred, producing the revolver.
" They dropped this as they drove out of the yard. I tell
you, Sheriff, that the Happy Thought can put you along-
side of that buckboard inside of two hours if you're will-
ing to try it."
" I never could sit on that little postage-stamp of a
seat."
"Comfortable as a rocking-chair, and nothing to do
but hold on."
"I oughter wait for my posse," advanced Mr. Jones,
weakly; "and I don't believe the critter '11 go, anyhow."
"Five hundred dollars' reward," returned Fred, reso-
lutely; and then, shutting his watch with a snap, " Time's
up.""
Jack was standing at his post, ready to shove off. Fred
took the forward seat, grasped the steering-handles, and
looked at the Sheriff expectantly.
The crowd nudged each other, and a tall gentleman in
blue jeans "allowed," audibly, that the "Sheriff was
plumb scairt of 'Smooth Jim ' and his friend."
That settled it; for, after all, Mr. Jones was no coward.
No man could be who had been elected Sheriff of Polk
County four times running. He stepped forward, stowed
himself away on the extra saddle immediately in front
of Jack, and assured himself that his old army "Colt"
was in working order. Then, shutting his eyes, he an-
nounced himself as prepared for the worst.
" All right, Jack," said Fred ; and then, to a boy in the
crowd, "Tell my mother — will you, Bill? — that she needn't
wait supper for us."
" You'll hev all you want to eat. when you tackle those
fellers down the pike," drawled Mr. Blue-Jeans, and the
crowd laughed again.
Jack pushed otf, jumped to his saddle, with his feet on
the pedals, and the Happy Thought rolled slowly down
the street. Two sharp whistles from Fred, and Jack
turned on the power. The Happy Thought lurched for-
ward, and the chase was on.
Half a mile outside of the village, and they were de-
scending Long Hill.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.*
BY KIRK M U N R O E,
AUTHOR OF " DOKYMATES," " RAFTMATES," " CAMFMATF.S," ETC.
CHAPTER XIII.
MUSIC OF THE SLEDGE BELLS.
T^HE cold winter morning that succeeded that memora-
ble day at the Anvik Mission witnessed an animated
scene in the open space between its stout log buildings.
Fur-clad figures hurried in all directions, bringing last
things and finishing the lading of the three sledges that
were to constitute the up-river brigade. To each of these
were attached seven dogs, it having been decided at the
last moment to add two extra haulers to each team, as
both dogs and fish, for their feed, were much cheaper at
Anvik than they would be beyond that point. Then, too,
with such strong teams a high degree of speed could be
maintained, for while two of the sledges carried six hun-
dred pounds each, the third was laden with but half that
weight, so that if either of the boys became exhausted he
could ride, and so avoid the necessity of a halt.
Each dog's harness was composed of three bands of
seal-skin, two of which passed over his back and were
toggled or buttoned under the belly, while the third,
which was extended into traces, crossed his chest. The
leader was attached to the end of a long pulling thong of
walrus hide, while the traces of the other dogs, who ran
in pairs, were knotted and made fast to the same line at
proper intervals. The two steer -dogs were hitched di-
rectly to the hauling-bar in front of the sledge.
The load of each sledge, enveloped in stout canvas,
was immovably bound to it by a simple but ingenious
net-work of raw-hide lashing, so that the whole might
roll over and over without being loosened or disarranged.
At ten o'clock, or just as the laggard sun of those short
days was rising, the last hearty handshakes were ex-
changed, the fervent "God bless yous, " and final fare-
wells were uttered, and the start was made.
Kurilla, who was to act as runner and break a trail
through the snow, went first. Then came Phil's team,
with the string of tiny bells attached to Husky's harness
jingling merrily in the frosty air; after him followed
Serge, whose cheery good nature and ready helpfulness
had won for him a warm place in every Anvik heart;
and the rear was brought np by Chitsah.
On the very brow of the steep descent to the river Phil
turned for a parting wave of his hand and a last glance
at the place that had grown to seem so much like home
in the past six weeks. His less-sentimental dogs sprang
down the narrow track with such suddenness that poor
Phil, who still held to the sledge with one hand, was
jerked abruptly forward, threw the sledge from the path
in his effort to save himself and plunged with it down
the bank. By thus taking a header, Phil, his dogs, and
his sledge, reached the bottom even in advance of Kurilla,
sadly demoralized, but except for a few bruises and a ter-
rible snarl of trace-lines none the worse for the accident.
When a few minutes later Serge reached the spot, with
his anxious and now familiar inquiry, Phil cut him short
by saying:
" No, old man, I'm not hurt, though, of course, I might
have been. But I was willing to risk it for your sake."
" For my sake!" cried Serge, in amazement.
"Yes, to set you an example in promptness of move-
ment. You know I have always said we would never
get to Silka unless we took advantage of every oppor-
tunity and pressed forward with all possible speed."
" Oh, pshaw!" laughed Serge. "You remind me of a
story I heard in New London. An old Quaker was driv-
* Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PKOPLE No. 801.
404
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
ing along a country road with his boy sitting in the
back of the cart. Suddenly the horse shied, and the
boy was thrown out, whereupon the old man remarked
quietly, ' Be thankful for thy mercies, son, for if thee'd
fell in a particell'ar way thee'd broke thy Deck.'"
"Well, I didn't," replied Phil, " though I'm sure I fell
in a very particular way, at least it was particularly un-
expected."
In a few minutes Kurilla's deft fingers had repaired all
damages, and disentangled the apparently hopeless snarl
of dogs. Then the train was once more set in motion,
and as it swept out on the broad surface of the frozen
river, was headed due north for the first stage of its long
journey. Fainter and fainter came the music of its
sledge bells to those who watched its departure. Its re-
ceding figures lessened until they were but black specks
against the illimitable expanse of white, and finally van-
ished in the snow glint of its wavering horizon.
To Phil Ryder, however, there was no vanishing about
the seven dogs that he was attempting to drive. They
were right before his eyes, where he was obliged to keep
them pretty constantly, too, for if he looked away for
an instant, they knew it, and seized the opportunity for
mischief.
After trying them for half an hour, and meeting with no
success, Phil exclaimed: " Look here, Kurilla, you and I
must change places, for I can't stand this any longer.
Besides, with the present arrangement, we are spending
more time disentangling dogs than we are in travelling.
I don't somehow seem to have learned the AB C of sledge-
driving; but I am getting along pretty well with the
shoes, and believe I can walk ahead and tread out a trail
as well as any one."
"All light," answered the obliging fellow. "You
walk, me come. Me come fas, you walk more fas, yaas."
Then, with a broad grin, he whirled Phil's relinquished
badge of authority about his head in such a manner as
gave the dogs to understand that they must now attend
strictly to business or take the consequences.
So Phil assumed the leadership of the expedition, and
from that moment, though always willing to accept ad-
vice from the others, he never dropped it.
When, shortly after three o'clock, the sun completed
its short course and again reached the southern horizon,
he asked Kurilla if it were not about time to make camp;
but the Indian answered:
"No; go far as can make dog plenty tired. S'posin'
no git tired; night come, run to Anvik. Bad dog, yaas.
Git tired, night come, no run, sleep; good dog, yaas."
"Oh, that's the scheme, is it?1' laughed Phil. "Well,
I guess I can stand it as long as the rest can, though I
must confess I am about tired enough to rank with the
good dogs now."
So in spite of lame ankles, and blistering heels, and
toes that were very tender from having been repeatedly
"stubbed" against the snow-shoe bars, the young leader
trudged sturdily forward, with the dog-teams following
close behind him. At length, when the dusk was mer-
ging into darkness, Kurilla called out:
"Now camp. Plenty wood. Heap fire, yaas."
They were passing a spruce and hemlock covered point,
against which a pile of drift had lodged, and, gladly ac-
cepting the Indian's suggestion, Phil led the way toward
it, Twenty miles of the journey had been accomplished,
which, considering the late start and that it was a first
day, was pronounced to be very good work.
For the next half-hour every one labored as though his
very life depended upon what he could accomplish dur-
ing those last precious moments of fading twilight. Phil
and Kurilla made their keen axes ring merrily in an at-
tack on the pile of dry drift -wood. Chitsah felled a
spruce-tree, from which lie cut two logs, each six feet
long, and armful after armful of small branches. Serge
erected a low but stout scaffold, on which the sledges
were to be placed to keep them out of the way of the om-
nivorous dogs, who in the mean time were lying down
in their harness where they had been halted.
At the end of the half-hour a great back log twelve
feet long and a smaller fore log had been placed in po-
sition and enough dry wood collected to last until morn-
ing. The direction of the wind was noted, and the logs
for the fire were so laid that it should blow along their
length, instead of across them from either side. While
Serge split kindlings and started his fire the two Indians
unharnessed the patient dogs. The harness, and espe-
cially the whips, were hung well beyond their reach, for
they will eagerly chew at the former and invariably de-
stroy the latter if by any means they can get at them.
Then the hungry animals were fed, Serge leaving the
fire to feed his own team, and Phil rejoicing that he had
escaped this dangerous duty. Each dog was given a salm-
on weighing from pne pound and a half to two pounds,
and each as he received his ration gulped it down exact-
ly as Amook had done on a previous occasion. They
followed their meal with copious mouthfuls of snow,
that served instead of water.
Serge, who naturally slipped into the position of cook
for the party, returned to the fire, which was now blazing
fiercely and sending a stream of sparks dancing among
the dark tree -tops. Phil busied himself with the bed
that he and Serge were to share, while Kurilla and Chit-
sah would make theirs on the opposite side of the fire.
He rolled one of the green logs into position close beside
the fire for its foot-board, and then covered a space some
six feet square behind it with flat spruce boughs over
which he spread a thick layer of hemlock tips. Above
all he laid the two great bear-skins, and on them threw
the two sleeping bags, each of which had its owner's
name done in black paint on its white canvas, and con-
tained his personal belongings.
Everything needed for the night being now taken from
the sledges, the Indians lifted them, with the remainder
of their loads, to the scaffold, on which were also placed
the snow-shoes. Then they made their own bed, a very
simple affair as compared with the one constructed by
Phil. With this the work of preparing camp was fin-
ished, for in that far north land there is no pitching of
tents by winter voyageurs.
These are considered useless encumbrances in sledge
travel, where every pound of weight must be considered.
They are not needed as a protection against rain, for it is
certain that no rain will fall with the mercury below
zero, and they would be liable to catch fire from the
roaring blaze that is kept up all night.
So in the present case there was nothing more to be
done save wait as patiently as might be for supper — and
this Phil declared to be the hardest job he had tackled
that day.
CHAPTER XIV.
WINTER TRAVEL BENEATH THE ARCTIC AURORA.
WITH the advent of darkness and the dying out of the
wind there came such an increase of cold that from all
parts of the forest were heard sharp crackling sounds
caused by the cruel pinchings of a bitter frost. Phil had
thrust his thermometer into the snow at the head of his
bed, and was surprised to find, on looking at it, that it
already registered fifteen degrees below zero. He had
been so warmed with violent exercise that it had not
seemed so very cold ; but now he shivered and drew closer
to the fire.
For his cooking. Serge was first obliged to melt snow in
order to obtain water; but now the tea-kettle was singing
merrily, bacon and dried venison were sizzling together
in the capacious fry-pan ; and oil the opposite side of the
fire the two Indians were rapturously sniffing the deli-
MAKING CAMP THE FIRST NIGHT OUT.
cious odors that came from it. They were toasting a fat
salmon impaled 011 a slender stick, and at the same time
whetting their appetite by frequent bites from a lump of
pemmican that was handed from one to the other.
Phil asked for a bit of this when Serge took it from its
bag, for he said, "Ihave read of pemmican all my life, and
from the amount of praise bestowed on it by the writers,
think it must be pretty fine eating." So he tried it, took
one mouthful, and flung the rest to Musky, who had
drawn close to him, and was watching his experiment
with undisguised interest.
"Whew-w!" sputtered Phil, ejecting the tasteless
morsel from his mouth. " If that's pemmican, then
those who like it may keep it to themselves; but I cer-
tainly don't want any more of it. I suppose, though,
it is because my taste has not been cultivated to appre-
ciate it any more than it has raw seal's liver and simi-
lar dainties."
Before supper both Phil and Serge afforded the Indians
considerable amusement by devoting a basin of the pre-
cious water to a thorough cleansing of their faces and
hands. Kurilla and Chitsah not only considered this a
waste of time, water, and soap, but, as the former re-
marked, with an expressive shake of his head.
"No good. More clean, more quick git dirty. Yaas."
"Which sentiment," said Phil, in a low tone, to Serge,
"explains why Indians and Eskimos and the like gener-
ally sit on one side of the fire, when white men occupy the
other."
Throwing a handful of tea into the chynik, lifting it
from the fire the moment it again came to a boil, and
then setting it in a warm place to "draw, "Serge next
removed the cooked meat from the fry-pan to a heated
plate. Into the hot grease that remained he placed a
double handful of broken biscuit, previously soaked for
a few minutes in the brass kettle. When this had ab-
sorbed every drop of grease and begun to brown, it was
ready to be eaten with molasses as a dessert.
" One of the very best dinners I ever ate in all my life,
old man!" declared Phil, after half an hour of uninter-
rupted devotion to plate and cup. " I believe it is fully
equal to that gorgeous spread you had ready for me on
Oonimak after my experience with the sea-otter hunters.
As for the tea ! Well, I never realized before what a
good thing tea is, and how much a fellow can drink of it!
Have I had six or twenty of those big tin cups full? No
matter, it's either one or the other, and every one of them
has gone right to the spot where it will do the most good.
Wouldn't my Aunt Ruth be horrified, though, if she
could see us dispose of that amount of straight tea? She
used to consider one small cup, with plenty of milk in it,
about the proper thing for a boy's daily allowance. But
then Aunt Ruth never enjoyed the advantage of drink-
ing her tea out-of-doors, with the mercury away down
below freezing."
"Don't you mean below zero?" suggested Serge, who
was refilling the chynik with hot water, and setting
it on to boil, that whatever virtue still remained in the
tea-leaves might be -extracted for the use of the Indians.
" Certainly not!" retorted Phil. " Why, it has grown
at least twenty degrees warmer during the past half-
hour." So saying, he reached for the thermometer and
held it to the light, where, to his disgust, he saw that it
registered three degrees lower than when he last looked,
or eighteen degrees below zero.
''You prevaricating old tin villain!" he cried. "You
are away off, and you know it. Oh, if I could only get
one cup of that tea inside of you ! It would bring you to
your senses quick enough."
The Indians had their own wooden bowls or "kan-
tags," horn spoons, and tin cups, and while they ate their
supper they were again amused by seeing Serge wash all
his dishes and cooking utensils with hot soapy water.
They allowed their favorite dogs to lick their kantags
clean, and it must be admitted that the operation was
quickly and thoroughly performed.
After supper a line was rigged, and on it were hung
mittens, travelling-boots, and the pads of dry grass that
406
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
are worn inside of them as insoles. Serge set a big kettle
of deermeat, pemmican, and oatmeal on the fire to simmer
into a stew for breakfast and lunch the next day. He
also fixed a slab of snow where, as it melted, it would drip
into the tea-kettle. By his advice Phil bathed his swol-
len ankles with water as hot as he could bear it and
rubbed tallow on the blistered places. This treatment
was to be followed by a dash of ice water and a brisk
rubbing first thing in the morning.
On the other side of the fire the Indians indulged in the
long-pipe smoke, that after a hard day's work affords the
chief enjoyment of their monotonous lives. When itwas
finished Kurilla went out for a final look at the sledges
and dogs, and threw a couple more logs on the fire. Then
he rolled up in his rabbit-skin robe for as many hours of
sleep as he could obtain before it would be necessary to
again replenish the tire and incidentally to take another
smoke.
Removing only their heavy outer parkas, with their
feet encased in soft arctic sleeping-socks, their heads pro-
tected by close-fitting fur caps, and sheltered from the
cold by the triple thickness of their fur-lined sleeping-
bags, Phil and Serge lay on their bear - skins, feet to
the fire, and slept the untroubled sleep of tired and
healthy youth. About them clustered the solemn trees
of that northern forest, just beyond lay the river frozen
into white silence, and above all glowed the exquisite
mysterious sky-tintings of an aurora pervading all space
with its flashing brilliancy quivering with ceaseless mo-
tion, and yet giving forth neither heat nor sound and but
little of light. With the rising moon frost crystals
glistened in the air, and the long-drawn howl of a wolf
echoed mournfully through the forest. Every dog in
the camp promptly answered it, and Kurilla arose with
a shiver and mended the fire; but of all this the two
lads, lying side by side on their rude couch, knew no-
thing.
It was Phil who first awoke and looked out from his
warm nest. With a shiver at the bitterness of the air he
would have withdrawn his head and snuggled down for
another nap, but for two thoughts that just then flashed
into his mind. One was of his father, whom he believed
to be encamped within one hundred miles or so of him
on that very river, and whom he was bound to overtake.
The second thought was that as leader of the expedition
it was his place to set the others an example. It would
be pleasant to lie there and sleep until sunrise, but
braver to set forth at once. In another minute he had
struggled from the sleeping-bag, pulled on his heavy
parka, and was shouting, cheerily:
"Come, wake up! Wake up! Tumble out all hands!
Don't you see the sun a-shining, and hear the little birds
a-singing?"
"Looks more like the moon, and sounds like dogs,"
growled Serge, sleepily, as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
"My! but it is cold!"
"Yes," admitted Phil. "Fifty below at least, and
more I'll be bound."
It really seemed as cold as that, and when his ther-
mometer showed only 20° below zero he declared it to be
a fraud, and unworthy of further consideration. None
but those who have experienced similar conditions can
imagine the misery of that camp-breaking and getting
under way. The hunting from their snowy lairs and
harnessing of unwilling dogs, the lashing of loads and
the tying of knots with numbed fingers, the longing to
hug- the fire in one's arms, and the hundred other forms
of torture incident to the relentless cold all combined to
give Phil a rude foretaste of what that journey was to
be. Amid all the wretchedness Serge was as usual the
comforter, and with his smoking stew and hot tea did
much toward restoring cheerfulness.
It wanted some hours to sunrise when the sledges
pulled out from camp, regained the river, and resumed
their northward journey. The sky was overcast, and an
ominous moaning sounded through the forest. Soon a
breeze began to blow in angry gusts full in the faces of
our travellers, and by sunrise it was sweeping furiously
down the river, whirling the dry snow in blinding clouds,
and driving the icy particles with stinging force into
face and eyes. Noses and cheeks became white and
numb, the deadly cold was driven through fur and flan-
nel until it penetrated the very marrow. Even the dogs
plodded on with lowered heads and pitiful whimperings,
while their masters were obliged to turn their backs to
the gale every few minutes for breath and a momentary
respite from the fierce struggle.
' 'Tis poorga — yaas!" shouted Kurilla.
" Aye, poorga /" answered Serge, and for the first time
Phil comprehended the full significance of the terrible
word which means the wind of death.
By noon human endurance could hold out no longer,
and ready to drop with cold, pain, and exhaustion, Phil
led his train to camp in a belt of timber so thick that
even that fierce wind could not penetrate it, though
among the tree-tops it shrieked and howled with demoniac
fury.
Thus from camp to camp, through sunshine and dark-
ness, storm and calm, stinging cold and whirling snows,
the little party toiled onward making twenty, thirty, and
as high as forty miles a day. They passed the Indian
settlement of Nulato, once a noted Russian trading-post
at the end of ten days' travel, and a week later gained the
mission station of old Fort Adams, four hundred miles
from their point of departure. At several Indian villages
they had heard of the party in advance of them whose
camps they also sometimes found. The trail was grow-
ing fresh, and at Fort Adams they expected to gain defi-
nite information of those whom they sought, if indeed
they did not overtake them at that point. At any rate
they would find a missionary there from whom they
would surely receive news.
The first word obtained by Kurilla from the mission
Indians, who swarmed forth to greet them, was that the
missionary was absent, and that those whom they sought
had passed only the day before. The second was that
one of that party had returned but an hour previous, and
was even now in the missionary's house.
"You fadder, yaas," added Kurilla, reassuringly, with
a grin of delight as he led Phil in that direction.
With a loudly beating heart the excited lad opened
the door. There sat a man, a white man, in an attitude
of deepest dejection. He was long and lank. His fur
garments ill became him. Phil's heart sank; for in this
uncouth figure there was no trace of his own dear father.
Then, as the woe-begone face was slowly turned to meet
his, he uttered a gasping shout of amazed recognition.
"Jalap Coombs, by all that is wonderful!"
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
IN THE STEAWBERRY PATCH.
BY MARTHA McCULLOCH WILLIAMS.
OH ! please Ned !"
" Do, Ned ! That's a good brother :"
"We want to go — oh! ever so bad."
Dorothy, Evelyn, and Harriet spoke all at once.
"Ned dear," Dorothy went on, "will you take us over
to the strawberry patch? We have listened to old Aunt
Sally's tales until they are simply wild."
" So I'm in for a day of it," Ned said.
"Yes — unless the ghost catches you pretty early.
Mammy Sally vows there is a ghost — and certainly the
place looks haunted."
" Count me out, then," Ned said, putting up his hands
APRIL 16, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
407
iu mock terror; but Evelyn clapped his hat on his head,
then she took one arm, Dorothy the other, and between
them he was conducted to the buggy into which Harriet
had already clambered. Dorothy hopped into the saddle
011 Merry Tom, easiest of pacing horses; Evelyn scram-
bled on behind her, and they were off for the strawberry
patch.
It, was a long rich swale, which had been a famous
meadow in the days when Ashley plantation was not a
tenantless waste. The place had been in chancery ten
years or more — in fact, ever since the death of its last
occupant. Everything about it was ruinous, save the
outer fence, which was maintained to give color to some
legal quib.
"We shall have just a heavenly time, Ned. We'll
leave the horses loose, up there in the yard; it is knee-
high with blue-grass ; they can eat their fill while we
pick berries," said Dorothy.
"Do you know what I think about the ghost?" Har-
riet asked, as they went on. " Well, that it is Aunt Sal-
ly's peculiar property, invented to scare the other darkies
into leaving her all the strawberries. They are delicious!
and she can sell all she picks, now the garden berries are
gone."
"Ned ought to know that. I am sure he has eaten
enough of them," Evelyn chimed in. "I told Aunt
Mina yesterday she would ruin herself outright if she
tried to buy all he would eat; but since he has been ac-
tually a year in college she seems to think nothing is
quite good enough for him."
" Humph ! I'd like to know who is going to graduate
next term, and have an essay and a white frock, and a
diploma that she can't read," Ned retorted. "Say, Dot,"
he continued, "why not go on to the patch befone we
stop? Then I'll water the horses, and bring them back
to graze."
" Agreed !" Dot said, turning Merry Tom's head into an
old wagon-way, now almost overgrown with -rampant
briers. It ran around and past the house, and soon
brought them to the swale. It stood breast-high in sedge,
yellow and green, with tall heads of timothy and patches
of feathery red - top showing between the tufted sedge
clumps. Little pink climbing vetches twined pertly about
many of the sedge stalks. Here or there a wild rose riot-
ed in the rich light earth, and flung trailing blossomy
arms for yards and yards about. "Say! This is worth
seeing, if there isn't a berry, nor the smell of one," Ned
admitted, stuffing his Ovid into the pocket of his coat,
which he flung over a convenient bough. He had
meant to read- while the girls had their frolic out. Now
that was out of the question.
They had halted in thick shade, under a clump of oaks
and chestnuts overhanging the spring. Dorothy dipped
her scooped palms into the water, drank a long draught,
then cried, joyously:
"Aunt Sally is here ahead of us. See! There is her
jug of buttermilk down there in the water."
"Look out for the ghost, then," Ned shouted, as he
rode away, sitting Merry Tom in a ridiculous imitation of
Dorothy's pose. Trap, the buggy mare, followed obe-
diently behind, only halting now and then to snatch a
mouthful of grass or tender way-side bushes.
"Let's take a wade while Ned's away," Harriet said,
dipping her left toe into the dancing water.
Dorothy shook her head. " He'll be back in less than
no time," she said. " Besides, we must get our berries be-
fore it grows too hot. I don't want Ned's thunder-storm,
but I wouldn't mind a bit if a cloud would come and stay
till we had filled our baskets."
"I don't believe we shall ever do that. I don't see
any berries anywhere, and it is so nice here by the
spring," Harriet said, a little discontentedly.
Evelyn caught up a basket and disappeared in the tall
sedge. A minute after she called to them, " Oh, do come
here!"
They found her kneeling with upraised face beside
a tuft of vines which grew in a little hollow in the earth.
The tall leaves, tenderly green, drooped almost to the
ground all around. Parting them with eager fingers,
Evelyn showed to her companions clusters of deep red
berries as big as the thumb's end, and giving out the
finest summer fragrance. The wild vines — self-sown,
self-tended — could not vie with the garden beds in size,
but more than made up for that in color and savor.
"There!" Dot said, a note of triumph in her voice.
"I would not miss to-day for two picnics, and a dance
thrown in. Get your basket, Hat-a-rat! If you can fill
it before I do mine, you may ride home — in the saddle,
not behind."
"The baskets are all full, which is not strange, con-
sidering. Ned is also full — of strawberries — which is a
miracle under any circumstances," Evelyn said, two
hours later, as the four gathered, flushed and panting,
yet immeasurably happy, in the shade beside the
spring.
"Full, but not satisfied," Ned retorted. " I have not
seen the ghost, not even a flutter of its wings. Didn't I
hear that Aunt Sally said it had wings, and walked in
broad daylight? I take it very unkind of such a remark-
able sort of spectre to be ' riot at home ' when I came on
purpose to see it."
" I reckon it is having a little private confab with Aunt
Sally, telling her where to find the biggest ripe berries,"
Dorothy said, peering into the gum of the spring. "I
see she has come and got her milk-jug. Who knows
but she is lunching with his ghostship up at the
house?"
"Not she!" Harriet said. " Don't you remember how
'fraid de ve'y thoughts ub it hit' makes her? She told
me, 'It dest yowled an' yowled, same like er wild-
cat.' "
"Something — somebody — is yowling and howling
now. Listen! Don't you hear it?" Ned said, raising his
hand.
Before the rest could speak Aunt Sally came in sight,
bent almost double with fright, and running as fast as
her two hundred pounds allowed.
"Save me, chilluns; save yo' po' ole auntie!" she
screamed, as she came up to them, her face ashy, her eyes
as round as saucers. Blood was trickling from a small
wound over one eyebrow, and there were big wales all
over one fat bare arm.
"I's done good as dead," she panted, half sinking,
half falling at Dorothy's feet. "I's done ghost bit, I is.
IV ole Sally won't never see Miss Miny no mo'."
The young people clustered about her, soothing, com-
forting, questioning. By-and-by they gathered from her
rambling storythat she had eaten her dinner some hun-
dred yards away — in fact just where the spring branch
made into the creek. As she had got up at daylight, and
picked berries industriously since she came upon the
ground at six o'clock, it was natural that she should doze
a bit after she had filled herself with fried meat, egg
bread, and delicious cold buttermilk. She did not lie
down, but nodded comfortably with her back against a
tree. No thought of ghosts or goblins disturbed her,
since all previous appearances of the white terror had
been in the neighborhood of the tumble-down carria'ji.-
house at the edge of the yard. That was a good half-
mile off. Naturally no well-bred spirit would be expect-
ed to come so far afield at midday. Therein she reckon-
ed without her ghost. As she sat dreamily conscious of
the water's happy babble something white, strong-, with
fiery eyes and a voice of terror, rose up from the face of
the stream, flew savagely at her, gave her the cut over
'NED! LOOK OUT! IT— IT'S COMING!"
the eye, aiid followed it with a rain of blows on the arm.
"Den I runned an' holler fer all I's wuth, an' hit run
arter me, little ways, hollerin' lek forty scritch-owels, an'
goin' s-s-s-zz-z-z-z-s-s-ss all de time, same lek ole he-snake.
Hit would er eat me up sho ef I hadn't took out an' toted
myself 'way frum dar lek I done," Aunt Sally concluded.
Her listeners looked at each other, trying hard not to
laugh. The old woman had certainly encountered some-
thing', but the thought of anything able to make way
with her at a meal was almost too much for their man-
ners.
" You girls stay here with Aunt Sally. I am going to
look for this thing whatever it may be," Ned said, begin-
ning to cut himself a stout cane from the thicket.
"Hadn't we better go home and let you get a gun?"
Harriet asked, a little nervously. Dorothy gave Evelyn
a pinch.
"We'll go and find the monster," she said, nodding
her head decisively. "Who's afraid of anything, broad
daylight as it is?"
" No, you stay here," Ned began.
Evelyn snatched away his cane, saying, "Cut yourself
another."
Dorothy had already armed herself with a tough hick-
ory wand which some previous stroller had dropped be-
side the spring. Aunt Sally got up, quivering like a
mound of jelly.
" Ef you all is gwine go an' git kilt," she said, "I'm
gwine wid you. Miss Miny she say Sally '11 stand by
dem chilluns to de last notch, an.' shore 'uough Sally
will."
"Besides — you are afraid to be left here with only
Harriet. Come everybody, I say," Dorothy called over
her shoulder, as she started down the spring branch.
Ned pushed ahead — the path admitted of but one abreast.
" You had better wait till I call you," he said to the fem-
inine contingent. By way of answer Dorothy prodded
the back of his head with her wand.
As they n eared the creek a nervous thrill went through
all. In spite of their laughing courage, each felt that
they were upon the point of an encounter out of the
common. At almost every step Aunt Sally gave a groan-
ing sigh. Harriet hung back with her — the others were
full twenty yards in front.
"There! I see it! That big white thing on the water!"
Evelyn called, her voice sharp and shrill. " Ned! Look
out! It — it's coming!"
"I'm here!" Ned shouted, putting up his cudgel and
standing firm. Dorothy forced her way through the
tangle to his elbow— then the two of them stepped out
into clear space upon the creek bank.
The white thing charged upon them — a fury of beak
and wings, shrilling out long cries, with hisses between.
Three raps of the cudgel put it to flight, then Dorothy
cried, joyfully, "Why, I know what it is! — the swan my
Uncle John shot, and tried to tame last winter. He
broke its wing as it was flying over — and kept it until
the wound healed. It was in a joint — so Master Swan
could not fly far. He has been wondering ever since
April what became of the creature."
"And I know why he is so fierce," Ned said, looking
after the big bird as it swam away, still hissing and ruf-
fling its feathers. "See! There is its mate — and some
cygnets — there, in shadow of the bank. He must have
called her out of a flock passing over, and persuaded her
to stay and cheer his loneliness."
"Oh, the dear, cunning old rascal!" Dorothy said.
"That must be the way of it — he ran off to this wild
place — liked it, set up housekeeping, and has been skulk-
ing about ever since. There is a beautiful clear pond up
by the old carriage-house. I dare say the nest was in
the sedges about it."
That proved to have been the case. A little search re-
vealed the deserted nest, still full of big shells. The swan
family itself eluded further observation, but as they went
home, Evelyn said, triumphantly:
" We've had heaps of fun — saved Aunt Sally's life —
for she says so — and laid the ghost. Decidedly, I think
our day in the strawberry patch has been a great suc-
cess."
410
HAEPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVL
DEVELOPMENT OF THE BICYCLE.
NOW that the frost is coming out of the gronud the country
roads will soon be in good order, and the bicyclists will
have frequent chances to enjoy the sport they find so beneficial
and exhilarating. And this spring there will be many more bi-
cyclists than ever before, as wheeling has grown in popularity
with wonderful rapidity. At this time there are something
like one million bicycle riders in tin- United States, and it is
predicted by those who are interested in the manufacture of
these machines that within three years there will be three and
a half million persons who either use the bicycle habitually or
i-asnally. When the fact be considered that a bicycle rider can
no si\ miles with the equivalent amount of power expended in
walking one mile, it is not wonderful that bicycling should be so
popular. But the history of the machine is interesting. The
first thing <if the kind we had in this country was Lallemont's
uooilcn velocipede, which shook nearly all the bones out of a
rider's body.
Following the wooden velocipede, which was introduced in 1867
— a picture of the first one made in this country is in this paper
— we had tin- same machine fitted with rubber tires in order to
make it run mure smoothly. Then we had the same machine built
of steel and iron, and this was still a bone-shaker and a bone-
breaker. Then the bicycle with a tall front wheel and a low
hind wheel was introduced. This grew in popularity, and af-
forded rare and dangerous sport. On this wheel great speed
was attained, and the manufacturers displayed much skill and
ingenuity in its improvement. Then, in 1887, we had the safety
machine, the one now in use. In less than three years this type
became so popular that all others went out of use. It has been
constantly improved, and the price has steadily fallen with the
weight. In 1*90, for road use, a man of average weight needed
a machine weighing about fifty pounds. The cost of one of these
machines of the best manufacture was $150. Now a capital ma-
chine, strong enough for road use, may be had for $100, and its
weight will not exceed twenty-seven pounds. For racing and
track work much lighter machines are used.
Some of the novelties that have recently been invented are
worthy of note. There is a tricycle made for two riders, who
sit side by side. It is said that if only one of the riders is an
expert this machine can be used satisfactorily. The advan-
tage claimed for it is that the rider can always have company
and therefore escape loneliness. Another machine is a tricycle,
though rim on the safety-bicycle principle, and is a delivery
wagon for small parcels. This is a novelty hereabouts, but not
so iu England, where small tradesmen and also mail-carriers
have used such vehicles for many years.
Two other very interesting and new machines are, first, a mil-
itary bicycle, which is shown in the illustration accompany-
ing this article iu its compact form. The rider carries his rifle
in a convenient position, and hanging beneath tbe bar sup-
porting the seat is a large leather water-proof compartment
iu which the soldier's kit is kept with his ammunition. These
bicycles are remarkably light and strong, and are being intro-
duced not only in the National Guard of America, but in the
regular army of several European countries. Tbe other is what
is known as the "Quad," which carries four riders, one behind
the other, and which must be a most amusing vehicle to travel
through the country on.
But perhaps the most interesting bicycle of recent make is
the motor cycle. If this proves successful, practically speaking,
it will be one of the most remarkable vehicles for travel that
lias yet been known in this or in any other country The pneu-
matic tires are very much larger than those of any other bicycle,
the idea being to furnish a cushion that will not he affected by
any uuevenuesses, even large ones, in the road over which the
ridrr travels. Attached to the rear wheel is a mechanism which
develops the power to send the machine forward by means of a
small two-cylinder explosion naphtha engine of about two-horse
power, which weighs twelve pounds. This bicycle it is said will
go at the rate of from twenty-five to thirty miles an hour, which
is as fast as most of the railway trains iu the Uuited States move.
This means that if the motor cycle is practicable, a man may
travel through the country at as fast a rate as the average rail-
way train, and he can get from Boston to New York within ten
hours-
A SURPRISE AHEAD.
"I'vn got a paint-bos," said Wilbur, iu a loud whisper to Mo]-
lie. " Let's go over to your house and make a white and gold
parlor for your mamma. She'd be awfully s'prised."
GRANDFATHER'S ADVENTURES.
A MUTINY AT SEA.
" /H RANDPOP," said Ralph Pell, as he looked up from
\JT a hook of sailor yarns that he had been reading-,
" were you ever in a mutiny?"
The old weather-beaten head nodded assent.
Down went Ralph's book.
"Oh, grandpop, please tell me about it,'' the hoy ex-
claimed, eagerly, " for your stories are always better than
printed ones; besides, they are a great deal more inter-
esting, because they are true."
" You deserve to hear the story, lad," said Grandfather
Sterling, with a pleased smile, " if only to repay you for
your compliment, so here goes.
" When your mother was a slip of a girl I was sent to
the island of Jamaica to bring back to New York a schoon-
er belonging to our house, that had lost its captain and
entire crew with yellow fever a few weeks before, while
lying in harbor after discharging cargo.
"The Neptune was a very old-fashioned vessel, and
had been built for the naval service, but had been sold
and converted into a merchant schooner, and a clumsy
old box she was, with high sides, apple bow, and a square
stern, in which the original ports had been allowed to
remain.
"I found it impossible to obtain a white crew, and
even the better class of negro seamen in the port declined
to ship on a fever infected vessel, so for a week I tried
in vain to man the Neptune. At last I ran across a
mulatto who commanded a miserable little half-decked
schooner that cruised around the islands in a small trad-
ing way, and who offered to find me a crew for the trip,
provided I would give him the position of mate and pay
his passage back to Jamaica. This I agreed to do, and
two days later I set sail for New York with the most
villanous- looking gang of blacks on board that I ever
saw.
" Before we had been twenty-four hours at sea the
trouble commenced. The crew were lazy, dirty, and in-
solent, and gave me to understand by the way in which
they responded to orders that they proposed to run the
ship. From the start I was obliged to use forceful mea-
sures with the men to maintain discipline, and once I
told the mate, who was a born pirate, that if he valued
his yellow skin he would jump quick when I spoke to
him, and would keep his impudent tongue hove to. He
gave me an ugly look, and after that spent all his time
forward with the men.
"Well, matters went on from bad to worse for more
than a week, but still no serious outbreak had occurred.
We had carried a fine breeze of wind right along since
leaving port, and by my noon observation on the tenth
day otit I made the Neptune to be in 40 degrees north
latitude, and iu 73 degrees west longitude, therefore I was
only about sixty miles east and south of Sandy Hook,
and had the wind not died away to a calm just after the
sun crossed the meridian, I would have counted upon be-
ing at anchor by nightfall.
"All that afternoon we broiled under an August sun,
and when evening came a heavy fog stole up from the
southward and shut us in. Not caring to keep the light
sails on the schooner during the night, I sung out to the
mate, who was sitting on the fore-hatch, to get in the
flying-jib, and to lower the maintopmast stay-sail. The
crew went about the work in a surly way. muttering one
to the other, and after lowering the sails they left the
stay-sail bunched on the main-hatch, and slovenly passed
a gasket around the flying-jib; then they reseated them-
selves, with the mate in their midst. My blood boiled.
I jumped from the poop-deck, and made my way forward
until I stood before the mate, who had risen at my ap-
proach.
APRIL 16, 1S95.
HAKPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
411
"'Have that flying -jib properly stowed, and send
some men aft to make up the stay-sail !' I ordered.
" ' The flying-jib is stowed,' said the mate.
" Tliis was too much for me. I made a quick grab at
the mutinous scoundrel, turned him half-way around,
swung him up over my head, and pitched him down
through the open forecastle-hatch. When I turned to
enforce my orders I saw two of the negroes laying out to
stow the flying-jib, while the remainder of the crew were
running aft to the stay-sail.
" About an hour after this a faint air, just sufficient
for steerageway, crept out from the south, but the fog
remained as dense as ever. Twelve o'clock had just been
struck, when one of the men called to me from forward,
saving- that there was something that looked like a vessel
on the port bow. I quickly made my way to where the
lookout was standing, and the better toaee I stood on the
bulwark-mil, holding with my left hand to the forward
shroud. Seeing nothing, I slewed round to step down on
deck, when whiz went something past my ear, and I re-
ceived such a staggering blow on my shoulder that my
body swung outboard, my grasp relaxed, and as I pitched
headforemost into the sea I caught a glimpse of the mate
standing by the shroud.
" As I rose to the surface I felt myself being drawn in
along the counter of the vessel, and the next instant my
head struck against one of the rudder-chains, which I
grasped. Just over me a shadow projected, which I real-
ized to be the open shutter of one of the square after-
ports. I got one leg over the chain, then steadying my-
self against the rudder-post, I reached up, seized the edge
of the shutter, and putting out all my strength I lifted
myself on to the wooden ledge. After listening a moment
to make sure that no one was within the cabin, I crawled
through the port, and passed into the hold through the
trap door in the steward's store-room. Knowing that the
crew believed that they had been successful in sending
me to the bottom of the Atlantic, I determined to remain
where I was until I could mature some plan to escape
from my would-be murderers.
"Several hours after I had entered the hold a good
breeze commenced to blow, as I could tell by the motion
of the vessel and the sound of water rushing past the
sides. After a time I heard a voice hailing on deck ; then
the vessel's progress was checked and something bumped
up against the schooner's side, after which orders were
given in a strange voice, and the Neptune's way was re-
sumed. With a thrill of joy I realized that a pilot had
come on board. Hastily making my way out of the
hold, I mounted the after-companionway stairs, and ap-
peared on deck just in time to hear my treasure of a mate
explaining to the pilot that the captain had accidentally
fallen overboard and been drowned the night before.
When he saw me the mate uttered a shriek of terror and
fled forward, believing that I was a ghost. I gave the
pilot the story in a few words.
"That afternoon, when the Neptune sailed into the
harbor of New York, flying from her maintopmast-head
a signal signifying that there was mutiny on board, I
had the pleasure and satisfaction of seeing my precious
crew heavily ironed and carried off on a United States
revenue-cutter that had hurried alongside."
SPORTS AND AMUSEMENTS OF AFRICAN
NATIVES.
BY LIEUTENANT A. I. MOUNTENAY JEPHSON.
JJavt ££.
I HAVE now cited the chief of the regular native games
which I myself have remarked in our march across
Africa. There are probably some others which I have
not seen, but I do not think there are many. In looking
through books of travel in Africa one is struck by the
strange silence and absence of detailed information on
the subject of native African games, and this leads me
further to suppose that in no part of Africa are the regu-
lar games numerous or important.
But when we come to sports and dances, which are the
real games and a.musements of the natives of Africa, we
have a very wide and varied subject before us, and one
which cannot be more than lightly touched upon in the
short space of a magazine article.
Among the sports of the natives I would mention
racing first, as it more nearly approaches the character
of a regular game.
Most of the natives of Africa, particularly in the open,
country, are fond of running races, and in their own
homes the youths and young men frequently practise
running, and sometimes get up races for the amusement
of the whole village, but they have not much notion of
organizing them. I have heard of their running some-
times for a small prize, a few beads or some native orna-
ment, and on great occasions for a spear-head, a chicken,
or even a goat.
Their races are generally short, seldom exceeding a
distance of two hundred yards, for they do not seem to
understand the science of reserving their wind, staying-
powers, etc., their only idea being to go at full pelt from
start to finish.
In his book upon the discovery of the Congo River
Mr. Stanley describes how he got up some races in his
camp between his own Zanzibaris, the natives, and the
Arabs of Manyema. He tells how the culminating pitch
of excitement was reached in the last race, which was run
between Frank Pocock, one of his officers, and the noto-
rious Arab slave-raider Tippu-Tib. The long-legged Tip-
pu-Tib. who was younger in those days, and not so heavy
as he is now, after a close race beat the European, and
carried off the prize, a silver cup from Mr. Stanley's can-
teen .
During our long stay at Kavalli's village, on the plains,
where we were waiting for Emin Pasha's people to arrive,
we also got up some races to amuse the people.
The natives of the villages near by all came in to see
them; some Manyema slave-raiders who were with us
and Emm's people turned out as well, and the large
grassy square in the middle of our camp, where the races
were run, was full of spectators, all taking the deepest
interest in them.
The races between the smaller children were run first,
the runners being made happy with a handful of red and
blue beads. Then came some races between the sleek
well-fed Manyemas and Emin's lazy Egyptians; but they
were all so fat and out of condition and puffed so dis-
tressfully that the natives jeered at them, and asked each
other with much laughter what sort of people they could
be. After this races were run between the fastest of our
Zanzibaris and the pick of Kavalli's natives, who were a
very tall fine lot of men, belonging to the tribe of the
Wahuma shepherds. The Wahumas generally had the
best of it, and received short lengths of gay-colored calico
as prizes. But there was one of our Zanzibaris called
Sin, who beat them all; and I, from my Zanzibar! name of
Boubarika, having the character for moving rapidly, was
called upon to run against him. It seemed to me to be
useless to attempt it, for when Siu ran he appeared to
literally bound over the ground. However, as they all
clamored for me to try my luck against him, I agreed,
and took my place at the starting-point. We started off
amid loud cheering, and, much to my own astonishment,
I managed to beat him. I received the prize from Mr.
Stanley — some of the large egg-shaped yellow beads so
much prized in Africa. These I handed over to Siu to
soothe his feelings of mortification at being beaten by a
European. He exchanged them, I was told, with Kavalli
412
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XTL
for some meat, bananas, and native beer, and he and his
friends had a good feast that night.
It is curious to see what a passion the natives have for
betting. In Africa, India, and Ceylon, and almost every-
where among Orientals and the dark races, I have ob-
served with surprise how strongly this passion for betting
seems to exist. They love to gamble over the smallest
thing, and sometimes they are ready to bet the shirt off
their basics.
I remember once in Ceylon, when I and one of my
friends were playing a set of tennis, a number of Cinga-
lese and Tamils from the neighboring village came and
sat in a row on the wall and laid wagers upon us. I was
slightly the better player of the two, but the betting ran
high, and it made me quite
nervous to feel there were
sometimes wagers to the
amount of twenty rupees,
three or four turbans, a
shirt or two, and a pair of
boots laid on my winning
the set.
Mimic warfare is a very
favorite sport among the
youth of Africa, and fits
them for the real warfare
of after-life. Boys at an
early age learn how to
make their own bows and
arrows and how to use
them, and in almost every
native village they may be
constantly seen practising
shooting or throwing small
spears.
At Kavalli's, where the
natives were friendly, we
staid long enough to^see a
good deal of the life in a
native village on the
plains. In the mornings
most of the bigger boys
went out with the cattle to
their pasture-grounds, tak-
ing their bows and arrows,
and usually also their mu-
sical instruments, with
them. These latter con-
sisted of pipes ?nade of
reeds or gourds, guitars of
many shapes and sizes,
drums of various kinds,
and little tinkling instru-
ments made with long and
short lengths of iron, which
we used to call native pi-
anos. Whilst tending
their flocks and herds they
whiled away the time by
practising shooting, or playing upon the different instru-
ments, each after his own particular fancy. The effect
of these little native herdsmen piping to their flocks un-
der the shade of the trees was extremely pleasing, and
the notes of their instruments, though somewhat mo-
notonous, sounded soft and plaintive across the distant
prairie — for the negroes have tuneful ears and love mu-
sic, so much so that Sir Samuel Baker, the great explorer,
once laughingly remarked that he believed a while man
could travel peaceably across Africa, and be housed and
fed by the natives, with nothing but a piano-organ as his
stock in trade.
Towards evening, when the boys returned with the
cattle, they frequently played at games of mimic warfare.
AN AFRICAN ELEPHANT TRAP.
The two sides generally stationed themselves on differ-
ent mounds, which represented their respective villages,
which they stormed in the face of the eiiemy. They of-
ten showed considerable skill and knowledge of native
tactics, creeping stealthily along in the tall grass, and
taking advantage of the cover of every bush, rock, Gi-
ant-heap, of which last there were a great number on
the plains. From behind these they shot their blunt toy
arrows with great precision at the enemy. Though we
never had the chance of seeing it, this game is doubtless
played equally often by the boys belonging to those
tribes who inhabit the forest regions, the tactics of the
game varying, of course, according to the different char-
acter of the country in which they are played.
This mimic warfare is
one of the instances I
have already spoken of,
where amusements are so
largely mixed up with the
training of young African
savages that it is difficult
to determine where they
cease to be mere games
and become part of their
regular education.*
In those countries
where there are lakes and
rivers, swimming, water
races, the management of
canoes, etc., enter largely
into the sports and amuse-
ments of the Africans.
The little boys take to the
water like ducks, and at
an early age become ex-
pert. swimmers. It is curi-
ous that in swimming the
negroes do not strike out
with their arms as we do,
but almost always swim
with a hand-over-hand ac-
tion, lifting their arms
high over their heads with
a good deal of splashing,
and turning their bodies
from side to side with each
stroke. As a rule, they
swim much faster than the
white man.
The climate being hot,
they naturally spend a
good deal of time in the
water, and sometimes get
up veritable water fetes —
diving, playing ball,
jumping over obstacles, or
having canoe-races.
In some parts of Africa,
especially on the lakes and
the Upper Nile, the natives make triangular-shaped rafts
of am batch wood, a kind of pithy tree which grows at
the water's edge, and is lighter than cork. On these rafts
they paddle about among the creeks and bays harpoon-
ing hippopotami or large fish. In fishing, the natives
do not use hooks and lines very largely, but employ a
variety of nets, baskets, and other traps.
Owing to the difficulty of killing the larger game — ex-
* As I write, a Swedish lady, who has a mission station in Abyssinia
for freed slave children, lias just given me a striking instance of this.
She tells me that people often send her out dolls and various other
toys for her little girls, but these children of only four and five years of
age always prefer to have as toys little wooden pestles and mortars, in
which they can pound corn like the women, and thus find their amuse-
ment in doing some useful work.
APRIL 16, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
413
cept at very close quarters — with such
weapons as spears and arrows, the natives
have recourse to trapping-, and become
exceedingly skilful trappers.
The little dwarfs in the forest, who de-
pend almost entirely upon the game they
kill, were among the cleverest hunters,
and employed a variety of ingenious meth-
ods in trapping all kinds of animals.
One of the common methods they em-
ploy for trapping elephants, buffaloes,
and the larger game is by digging deep
wedge-shaped pits, which they cover over
with small boughs and leaves and a thin
coating of earth. They dig these pits
across the tracks which are used by the
elephants, and conceal them so artfully
that only a practised eye can distinguish
them from the surrounding ground.
The elephants and other game, march-
ing unsuspectingly along their tracks, fall
into these pits, from which they are un-
able to extricate themselves, and the na-
tives easily despatch them with their
spears.
I myself, walking carelessly along one
day in the forest, was considerably sur-
prised at feeling the ground suddenly
give way under my feet, and finding my-
self at the bottom of a pit some fifteen feet deep, from
which ignominious position my men hauled me out with
much laughter.
Another method which the dwarfs commonly employ in
trapping large game is by fastening a large spear-head in
a heavy log of wood, which they fix to a high branch over-
hanging the track, passing a long rattan creeper attached
to a kind of trigger across the path. The elephant passing
underneath kicks the rattan rope, which loosens the trig-
ger above, and down falls the log like lightning, driv-
ing the spear through the elephant's head or neck.
For the smaller game, such as monkeys, wild pig,
bush-buck, various rodents, etc., they have a variety of
extremely ingenious traps and nooses made of twisted
elephant hair or wire.
The natives on the grass -lands sometimes organize
large hunting parties, and destroy great herds of game
by lighting fires in a large circle, often some miles in
circumference, in a tract of country where game abounds.
The fires quickly spread in the long dry grass, and the
terrified animals, being driven together in a herd by the
narrowing circle of fire, are easily killed by the natives
or are stifled by the smoke. Once, near Kavalli's village,
I saw an exciting rat-hunt. Numbers of men and boys
turned out and lit grass fires in a part of the plain which
was infested by rats. The rats cleared out in swarms
before the advancing fires, and were quickly despatched
by the natives, who stood round in a circle with sticks.
Many hundreds of rats were killed in this way, and were
afterwards eaten by the natives, who are very fond of
them.
In all these sports the boys and young people take an
active part, and at an early age become skilful hunters.
In Africa there is a breed of dogs which, according to
Darwin, the greatest of scientists, are the aboriginal dogs,
and from them all other breeds have sprung. They are
of a black-and-tan or yellowish color, tall, lank, and ugly,
with sharp pointed noses.
The natives are very much attached to these dogs, and
usually have a good number of them. But I have nev-
er seen them used for sporting purposes, though I am
told in South Africa they are sometimes employed in
hunting.
I cannot conclude this article on the sports and amuse-
A NATIVE FOOT-RACE.
ments of the Africans without mentioning dancing, for
among the negroes dancing is a veritable passion. Some
one has said, and with a good deal of truth, " When the
sun goes down all Africa dances."
Dances of every description enter largely into the lives
of all Africans, whether boys or girls, men or women,
each country having its own particular tribal dances.
Every event of the slightest importance is celebrated by
a dance. If war is declared, on the occasion of a victory,
or even of a defeat, it matters not, the Africans dance.
The birth of a child, the marriage or death of any of
the tribe, the arrival of a stranger, or what not, it is all
the same — nothing can be done without dancing.
There are war-dances, hunting-dances, funeral-dances;
there are welcoming -dances, speed- the -parting -guest
dances; there are every sort and kind of dances among-
the Africans, who keep them up for hours together, until
they almost drop from fatigue.
Some of their dances are sad; others are gay; some are
warlike, while others are peaceful; for the negroes seem
to have dances to suit every mood and every occa-
sion.
In most of these dances the orchestra, consisting chiefly
of drums and pipes, is placed in the middle, while the
people dance round it.
To this clanging, monotonous, barbaric music the ne-
groes dance wildly. Men, women, and children catch
the infection and join frantically in the dance, with an
excitement and abandon seldom to be seen anywhere
but in Africa.
They go through the most extraordinary contortions,
expressing hope, fear, sadness, or joy, love, kindness, or
anger; and all those feelings and passions which human
nature, so much the same the world over, is capable of
knowing, all are expressed in the dances of the negroes.
I should like much to describe some of these dances.
for I have seen great numbers and varieties of them.
All of them are curious and interesting, and many are
picturesque and attractive. But I have no space left to
do so ill this article, which already, I fear, I have made
too long. The subject upon which I have been asked to
write is a wide one, and what I have written must be
considered, after all, but a mere sketch upon " the sports
and amusements of savages in Africa."
414
HAKPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
A ^BEAUTIFUL KALEIDOSCOPE.
BY GEORGE ASHDOWN AUDSLEY.
IT is probable that the amusing optical instrument
which I am now going to describe is known, in some
toylike form, to many of the young readers of this jour-
nal; but it is equally probable that very few of them
have seen a truly fine kaleidoscope, or have attempted to
construct such an instrument for themselves. If the
following simple instructions are carefully followed, any
boy having a little manual skill can make a very beau-
tiful instrument which will afford lasting amusement
and instruction both to young and old. The kaleidoscope
was invented by the distinguished scientist, Sir David
Brewster, in the year 1817, and has held its place ever
since among favorite optical instruments. Its construc-
tion is simplicity itself.
The kaleidoscope consists of a pasteboard tube, three
mirrors or reflecting planes, two circular pieces of glass,
some small broken pieces of colored glass, etc. , and an eye-
piece, made and put together in the following manner:
DIAGRAMS FOR THE KALEIDOSCOPE.
Procure at a glass-store a strip of thin picture-frame
glass, of the best quality and perfectly free from blem-
ishes, 2 feet long by 2^ inches wide. See that it is ex-
actly the same width throughout, and then have it ac-
curately cut into three lengths of 8 inches. Get these
pieces silvered as mirrors, or, if that is not convenient,
coat one side of each piece (carefully up to all edges)
with black japan varnish, and allow them to become
thoroughly dry and hard. Now procure a piece of strong
pasteboard tube exactly 3 inches in diameter inside, and
8j inches long. You can make such a tube by winding
pasted manilla paper round a wooden mandrel, which has
been turned to a diameter of exactly 3 inches, and allow-
ing it to remain there until it has become quite dry.
Trim the tube accurately at each end, making it 8^
inches long; and when this is done slip the three reflec-
tors into it, forming a triangular chamber, with their un-
covered surfaces inward. An end view of the tube, with
the reflectors in position, is given in Fig. 1. The tube is
shown at A; B, B, B are the glass reflecting planes, placed
with their edges closely in contact; and C, C, C are strips
of thick pasteboard glued in to hold the reflectors firmly
in position. The reflectors must be adjusted level with
one end of the tube, and will accordingly be ^-inch in
from the other end. Small pieces of pasteboard or a
ring should be glued in to prevent the reflectors slipping.
A cap of pasteboard has now to be formed to slip on
to the tube at the end where the reflectors are level. This
cap should be about 2 inches deep, and may be made by
wrapping a strip of stout paper round the tube, pasting
it well except on the surface in contact with the tube.
Remove this cap when it is dry, and trim both its edges
until they are perfectly true and parallel with the end of
the tube. Place this cap down on a piece of thin paper,
and describe a circle by passing a sharp pencil round it
inside. Repeat this so as to produce two circles on the
paper. Cut these circles out, and paste one on to a piece
of thin clear glass, and the other on a piece of ground
glass, each cut with a diamond to an octagonal shape, 3^
inches in diameter. Now, with a pair of pincers, or a
strong pair of scissors, the glasses can be gradually
chipped away until they assume the circular shape of the
paper disks pasted on them, and the final inequalities can
be removed by a file. When the glasses fit the inside of
the cap tightly they are finished. Remove the paper
disks and clean the glasses.
Take the cap and glue a ring of card-board, a half-inch
wide, inside it close to one end. as shown at D, D, in the
section of the cap, Fig. 2. This is to hold the outside or
ground-glass disk, E. Place this glass in position, and
fasten it with a ring of card-board rather less than an -£
of an inch wide, indicated at F, F. This ring also serves
to separate the two glass disks to the required distance.
The clear glass disk is shown at G. The sectional draw-
ing, Fig. 2, shows the cap, H, in position on the end of
the tube, A. B is one of the three reflectors. The space,
I, between the glasses E and G, is for the reception of the
small movable pieces of colored glass or other materials,
the accidental arrangement of which forms a pattern at
each movement of the instrument. Procure from any
stained-glass-works some small waste pieces of richly col-
ored glass (such as is used for church windows) in as
many tints as possible, and break them into little pieces.
Remove the cap, and take out the clear glass disk; then
placing a nice assortment of the colored glasses on the
inner surface of the ground-glass, replace the clear glass
disk, and press the cap tightly against the ends of the re-
flectors at the level end of the tube. Everything is now
com ply te save the simple eye-piece. This is merely a
conical end to the tube, best formed of wood turned to the
shape given in the sectional drawing, Fig. 3. Here A is
the end of the tube, B is one of the three reflectors, and J
is the wooden eye -piece. A conical eye -piece can be
made of card-board. The opening for the eye should be
about 4--inch in diameter. Paint the inside of the tube
and eye-piece with lamp-black mixed with gum water.
The exterior of the tube and cap ma}- be covered with
binder's cloth or any ornamental material, according to
taste.
To use the instrument, hold it to the eye and direct the
glass end towards some strong light. A beautiful star
or other ornamental figure will be seen, produced in va-
rious colors, and a new figure will appear at every turn
or shake of the instrument. These changes are abso-
lutely limitless, and it is practically impossible to repro-
duce any pattern. All are beautiful.
The external appearance of the finished instrument is
shown in Fig. 4. For convenient use. the tube should be
supported on a small wooden stand which allows it to be
turned at pleasure.
A YOUNG PEOPLE'S SHAKESPEARE CLUB.
BY PROFESSOR W. J. ItOLFE.
I HAVE often been asked to give some practical hints on
the formation of a Young People's Shakespeare Club.
The simpler the organization and machinery of such a club
the better. Perhaps the following sketch includes all that is
really necessaiy in a
CONSTITUTION :
I. This society shall be called The Shakespeare Club.
It. Its object shall be the study and rending of SliaUespeare.
III. Its officers shall be a President, a Vice- President (\vho shall also
act as Librarian), and a Secretary, who shall also serve as Treasurer;
and the three shall constitute an Executive Committee. They shall be
elected yearly by ballot.
IV. It shall be the duty of the President and Vice- President to pre-
side at meetings, of the Secretary to keep the records and the funds,
and of the Executive Committee to assign the work of the club, to levy
APRIL 16, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
415
assessments for paying necessary expenses, and to perform all other
duties common to such a committee.
V. Any person whose name has been unanimously approved by the
Executive Committee may become a member of the club by a two-
thirds vote of the members present at any regular meeting.
VI. This constitution may be altered or amended at any regular
meetin" by a two-thirds vote of the members present, written notice of
the proposed change having been given at a previous meeting.
Other details had better be put iu the form of by-laws, or
settled by vote from time to time. The number of members
may be limited to twenty, thirty, or whatever seems best. It
should certainly be restricted to those who are willing to do
their fair portion of the work. A dozen or twenty who are
heartily interested in the plan will make a better club than
thirty or forty if half of them are hangers-on who do not mean
business. So a small executive committee who cannot shirk
their duties is better than a large one, half of whom leave the
work to the others. In a club of thirty or more, however, it may
be well to have an executive committee of five, adding a trea-
surer and Hbrariaaor a second vice-president to the list of offi-
cers.
The meetings may be weekly or fortnightly, according to the
fancy or convenience of the members. In a quiet country vil-
lage they might be more frequent than in towns and cities,
where means of social improvement and recreation are more
abundant. The regular work of the evening should begin and
end at a fixed time, and for young people it ought not to cover
more than two hours, say, from half past seven or eight o'clock.
Some Shakespeare clubs limit their exercises to mere reading,
while others combine study or discussion, more or less formal,
•with the reading; and this latter is unquestionably the better
plan for young people. Of the two hours I have suggested for
the evening's work, one may be given to reading, the other to
discussion of what has been read. If this division of time, or
something like it, is adopted, the reading of a play will necessa-
rily occupy from two to four evenings. About a thousand lines
can be rea'd aloud in an hour ; and the plays vary in length from
1800 to 4000 lines in round numbers. The Comedy of Errors is
the shortest, making 1777 lines of the Globe edition — now gener-
ally accepted by scholars and commentators as the standard
for line numbers — and Hamlet the longest, with 3929 lines. The
average length of the plays best suited for reading in our club
is perhaps not more than 2500 lines, and a play not exceeding
that length might be read iu two hours by omitting a scene or
two or portions of scenes. This abridgment, which is some-
times expedient for other reasons than the saving of time.. 'spe-
cially if the, club includes both sexes, should be made in advance
by the executive committee, who should also assign the parts iu
the play to the members who are to read them. Ample time —
two or three weeks— should be allowed for the readers to pre-
pare their parts, and thorough preparation should be the rule.
Cultivated men and women can rarely read Shakespeare well at
sight, and younger folks should never attempt it. If a member
finds himself unable to take his part, he should be required ei-
ther to provide a substitute or to give due notice to the execu-
tive committee.
Variety may be given to the reading by having the songs in
the play sung, though not necessarily by the person who reads the
part with which they are connected. All Shakespeare's songs
have been set to music, some of them a dozen times or more, and
the best of these "settings" are to be found at any city music-
dealer's. Poems or prose selections connected in any way with
the play may also be introduced before or after the reading, at
the taste or discretion of the managers, and occasionally an en-
tire evening may be devoted to miscellaneous readings and
music selected with reference to the works or the times of
Shakespeare.
The readers may sit while reading, or they may stand, " having
their exits and their entrances," as on the stage. I have seen
the latter plan well carried out in more than one club of older
people. A space at one end of the room or behind folding-
doors, if such there happen to be, is reserved for the stage, and
the readers come in at the proper time, book in hand, and go on
with their parts in the scene. Of course no attempt is made at
appropriate costume or action, though slight suggestions of the
former may sometimes be introduced in the comedies for the fun
of the thing, and as much of the latter may be allowed as each
reader is inclined to add. This combination of reading with
half-acting may be made almost as entertaining as amateur
theatricals, with a tithe of the labor and none of the expense.
Other miscellaneous exercises may be interspersed from time
to time besides those already suggested. The regular readings
may be prefaced by a paper, from ten to twenty minutes in
length, by a member, upon the play or some related topic. A
" symposium " (a number of brief essays, or a more or less formal
oral discussion) on some general subject connected with Shake-
speare will now and then be an agreeable and profitable varia-
tion in the programme. Topics of special interest to young
people should be selected, and there is no lack of such, as, for
instance, Children in Shakespeare (or Boys and Girls), School-
masters and School-boys (there are a few interesting references
to school-girls in the plays), Boyish Games and Sports, Hunt-
ing and Fishing. Rural Life (or Warwickshire Life), London
Life, Household Life, Eating and Drinking, Holidays and Fes-
tivals, the Poet's Birds, Animals, Plants, etc., Puns and Jests,
Practical Jokes, Slang and Cant Language, Nicknames, Popular
Proverbs, Popular Superstitions, Fairies and Fairy-lore, Plays
and Actors, Foppery and Dandyism, etc., etc. I jot down such
topics as occur to me at the moment ; and the young folk may
safely take almost anything else that is not of more recent origin
than Shakespeare's day, and look up the allusions to it iu his
works. I remember once asking a class in school, " What color
did Shakespeare like best iu a woman's eyes?" I told the boys
and girls to hunt up every reference to the color of human eyes
in the plays and poems, and see what they could make of them.
The results were unexpectedly interesting, as certain of the
passages involve curious and perplexing questions which have
posed more than one editor, and have led to some amusing
blunders iu comment and criticism.
In the constitution I have suggested iu brackets that thB
vice-president may act as librarian of the club. In the city,
where books on Shakespeare are readily accessible, no club
library may be necessary ; but in the country it may be advis-
able to make a small collection of useful books for the use of
members at joint expense. I should strongly advise every mem-
ber to own Dowdeu's .s'/Ki/vs/K 'HIT 1'riiiKi-, which gives the best
results of the latest study and criticism at a cost of thirty or
thirty-five cents. The boy who has mastered it knows more
about Shakespeare and his works than the most learned editor
or commentator could know fifty years ago. It condenses a
library into a little book that can be put in your pocket.
Of those expensive works that may be bought for the club
library, a well-selected list is given iu the appendix toDowden's
1'i'iiiiir. Among the most important are Bartlett's Cuumnlance
to tlit Plays and Poems, Schmidt's Shakespeare Lexicon, Nares's
Glossary, Abbott's Shakespearian Grammar, and Halliwell- Phil-
lipps's Outlines of the Life of Shakespeare. There should be at
least one fully annotated edition of the complete works of
Shakespeare. I am inclined to recommend Rolfe's edition,
mainly because it is a comparatively inexpensive substitute for
many costly editions. It is, for all ordinary purposes, a " vari-
orum " edition, or one that gives a summary of the readings and
interpretations of the leading editors and commentators. It
gives, also, a selection from the best critical comments upon the
characters in each play. It aims, moreover, to make Shake-
speare his own commentator, by the fulness with which his
peculiarities of style, thought, and sentiment are illustrated by
parallel passages from his own works. In preparing the edi-
tion, I had iu mind the fact that comparatively few readers and
students have access to a good Shakespearian library.
APRIL DAYS.
WHEN April days go dancing
Along the road to May,
With here a flower, and there a shower,
And never time to stay,
Then brooks are full of little waves,
That race and chase in glee,
And all the flooding rivers
Rush on to tiud the sea.
Then spring the brave green grasses
On every hill and plain,
A mighty host, in field and coast,
They laugh iu sun and rain.
Then mornings wake in melody,
And mirth finds time to stay,
When April days go dancing
Along the road to May.
MARGARET E. SANGSTER.
416
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
HOW HE CLEANED THE WOOD-WORK.
Miss M , a mission-school teacher, prilled herself particular-
ly on a bright Irish boy whom she had rescued from the gutter.
He was the soul of chivalry and helpfujuess, and took to the
catechism as a duck takes to water. But in moments of excite-
ment he would occasionally forget his newly gaiued refinement
and relapse into the unaffected speech of his street fellows. One
day Jliss M 'a pastor, a highly fastidious gentleman, was vis-
iting the school, and among other thiugs remarked pleasant-
ly upon the spotless cleanness of the wood-work of the little
room. "Ah ! that is Michael's work," cried the teacher, turning
to her star boy with a beaming smile. "Tell the gentleman how
you did it, Michael."
Leaping up in a perfect glow of pride and delight, the little
Irish boy exclaimed, " Oh, sir, I dun it wid me fist!"
A REASON.
'•I THINK I know why a boy that doesn't know his lessons
gets a whipping sometimes," said Wallie. " If he doesn't learn, it
shows he isn't smart, so they whack him tilliie does smart."
HIS IDEA.
" PAPA, what's twins ?"
••Two children of the same age of the same parents."
'' Why, I thought they was a philopeua."
THE WAY HE STOOD.
" How do you stand in your
classes, Tommy ?'' asked the
stranger.
" On my feet, sir," said Tom-
my, with a look of surprise
that any one should ask so
foolish a question.
BOBBY (fire years old).
" Boys, keep away from me."
CHORUS. "Why,. what's the
matter?"
BOBBY. "The teacher said
I was sharp to-day, and you
might get cut."
WHY HE DID IT.
JACK had said his prayers,
and then he started in at
once to say them all over
again.
" You see, I fordot to say
'em last night, and I'm mak-
iu' up," he explained.
COMPARING NOTES.
"I'VE learned to ride a bi-
cycle," said Whitty.
"Hoh! That's nothing,"
said Jimmieboy. " We're go-
ing to have a roof put on our
piazza, and I can fall off of
that if I want to."
WILLIE'S SCHEME.
"MY pa's going to get me.
a parrot some day," said Wil-
lie, " an' I'm going to keep
him in my room when mam-
ma reads stories to me, so's
he'll learn 'em, arid tell 'em to
me when nobody's got time
to read to me."
A LIFE OF PIE.
" I SORTER think I'll be a
tramp when I grow up," said
Jack. " They get so much pie
to eat when they ask cooks
for a meal."
ACCOUNTED FOR.
" THE baby's awful bald," said Mabel.
"Yes; they come bald on purpose. If they had hair they'd
pull it all out, and then all that hair would be wasted," said
Tommy.
AN ORIGINAL LITTLE GIRL.
"I WILL not copy any boy,
Not any boy alive !
And that is why I say," said May,
"That two times two make five."
A REASON.
"WELL, Willie, which do you like the best, Sunday -school or
your every-day school ?"
" Sunday-school," said Willie. " 'Coz you ouly have to go
once a week."
EXPLAINED.
"!T seems to me, Bobbie," said his teacher, "that a boy who
can write his letters as well as yon do ought to be ashamed to
be so stupid about learning to read.''
" Well, yon see. Miss J ," said Bobbie, " when I grow up
I'm going to write books, so I dou't need to know how to read,
but writing is necessary.'1
III.
PUSSY AND THE FOOL'S-CAP.
Cuj.yriglit, 1895, by HAHPKU & BK.TIIMUS. All Right
VACATION EXTRA. NO. 807*
NEW YORK. SATURDAY. APRIL 20. 1895.
PRICE TEN CENTS.
ON AN ARIZONA TRAIL.
BY CAPTAIN CIIARLES A. CURTIS, U.S.A.
CHAPTER I. floor and ceiling- of pine planks, all, logs and planks, leud-
NEAR miduight of a late October day a Lieutenant of ing a piny flavor to the room's atmosphere. .
infantry was sitting by a camp-table in his quarters The mail from the Pacific coast, due once in two weeks,
at Fort Whipple, Arizona, reading a magazine. The walls had failed to arrive a few days before, and a searching
of the room were formed of vertical pine logs, and the party seut to look for it had found the mutilated body of
418
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
the cavalry expressman lying beside the trail in a deep
gulch, and the mail matter torn and scattered over a broad
space.
The dead soldier was brought in for burial, and the
fragments of letters and papers gathered and taken to the
Quartermaster's office. Officers and men spent many
hours in identifying and matching the soiled and ragged
pieces. The Lieutenant had worked diligently from noon
till evening in making two magazines and half a dozen
letters legible.
The fragments of each leaf were pasted on nearly trans-
parent paper, the printed matter becoming fairly visible
through its fibres. They were sorry-looking pages, how-
ever, at best. Many bits were gone, compelling the reader
to supply by imagination scenes and incidents lost in the
sage-brush and greasewood bordering the La Paz trail.
The young officer occupied a leather-backed cross-legged
camp-chair, which rose high above his reclining head,
with his legs stretched across the bottom of a stool towards
a generous fire of pine knots, which filled the room with
a flood of light and drove out the autumnal chill. In
this comfortable attitude, engrossed in a popular serial,
he had passed away the first half of the night. He was
just beginning1 a new chapter when he became aware of
the distant and rapid clatter of a horse's feet. The sound
came distinctly through the loop-holes in the outer wall
of the room — loop-holes made for rifles and left open for
ventilation. Dropping his book upon the table, he rose
and listened intently to the hoof-beats. Some one was
riding from the direction of Prescott, evidently in great
haste; and as this was a country of alarms, the officer
surmised that the rider was coming to the fort. The ca-
dence of the gallop showed that the animal was a pony,
and that he was being hard pressed.
A brief halt at the post of sentinel Number One and the
galloping was resumed, the sound growing plainer, and
showing that the rider had turned up the hill and was
Hearing the great gates now closed for the night. Pres-
ently the clatter of hoofs ceased and the rapid breathing
of a horse could be distinctly heard. The rider's feet
came solidly to the earth, and an instant afterwards im-
patient fingers could be heard groping along the bark-
covered logs in search of the secret postern — a gate made
by sawing off a log close to the ground and attaching
hinges to its inner side — usually left ajar except in time
of danger. Then the impatient and discouraged voice of
a boy exclaimed,
" Oh. why can't I find the gate!"
"Seventh log to the right of the big gates! Push
hard !" called the officer.
The immediate creak of hinges and rapid footsteps
showed the rider had entered the fort and was approach-
ing the room. The door swung suddenly open, and a
handsome boy of about thirteen years entered, hatless,
clothing soiled and torn, with bleeding face and hands.
"Oh, Mr. Randolph, the Indians! the Indians! They
have attacked our ranch, and Aunt Martha is dead!" he
exclaimed, as he sank exhausted on the stool.
"Attacked the ranch!— When?"
"About four o'clock."
"How many?"
"Don't know. Seemed as if there was a hundred."
"But, Willie, you are wounded. Let me —
"Never mind me — it's only a scratch. Send the sol-
diers, or Brenda and all the rest will be killed !"
"How did you get away from the ranch? But wait;
I'll go for Captain Bayard and the surgeon, and then you
can tell us all about it and save time."
Mr. Randolph had not far to go within the narrow lim-
its of the stockade. The officers sought were asleep; but
to his vigorous and excited summons they promptly arose,
and in a few minutes were in his room, the surgeon bear-
ing a small case of instruments.
Upon examination Willie's "scratch" was found to
consist of a fracture of the radius of the left arm, made by
a bullet, and a flesh-wound in the cheek, made by an ar-
row. Neither was a dangerous injury if properly treat-
ed. While Doctor Colton dressed the wounds the boy
told his story.
Before he had proceeded far Captain Bayard asked
Lieutenant Randolph to call the post Adjutant, and upon
the appearance of that official gave ordei's for a sergeant,
two corporals, and twenty-two men to be got in readiness
for immediate mounted service with rations for five days.
The fort was garrisoned by infantry only, a command
containing many good riders, however, who were fre-
quently mounted in an emergency requiring speed and
short service. For this purpose a number of horses were
kept by the Quartermaster.
The command of the detachment was given to Lieu-
tenant Randolph, and he at once sent a man to Prescott
in advance, to secure the services of Paul Weaver and
George Cooler, two accomplished scouts and hunters.
They were asked to be in readiness to join the column
when it should pass through the plaza.
Half an hour after the arrival of the wounded boy the
men were in the saddle and on the way to Cholla Valley
by way of the mountain trail. As they passed through
Prescott — at that time a mere hamlet of rude log cabins —
they found the veteran Weaver and the youthful Cooler,
mounted on sturdy broncos, awaiting their arrival.
The family to whose rescue the detachment was going
had travelled one year before from Fort Wingate, New
Mexico, to Prescott, Arizona, under escort of the soldiers
now forming the Fort Whipple garrison. When Captain
Bayard's command reached Wingate from the Rio Grande
he found them awaiting its arrival, that they might make
the journey under military protection. The name of the
family was Arnold, and it consisted of a father and moth-
er and three daughters, and a nephew and niece. The
daughters were aged respectively twenty, eighteen, and
sixteen, and the nephew and niece thirteen and fifteen.
Mr. Arnold waited upon Lieutenant Randolph, the act-
ing Quartermaster of the command, the evening before
the march was resumed, and handed him a note from
Captain Bayard, directing him to afford the bearer and
his family all possible assistance on the march, and to see
that their wagons were assigned a place in the train and
their property guarded. The Quartermaster's train con-
sisted of eighty wagons and five hundred mules. There
was also a commissary herd of three hundred oxen and a
flock of eight hundred sheep.
At the first halt after leaving Fort Wingate Lieutenant
Randolph called upon the Arnolds, and found the father,
mother, and daughters gathered about a fire busy in the
preparation of supper. Mr. Arnold was making a tem-
porary table of the tail-board of a wagon and two water-
kegs. He was a tall, well-proportioned man of dark com-
plexion and regular features, with black unkempt hair
and restless eyes. He was clothed in faded and stained
butternut flannel, consisting of a loose frock and wide
trousers, the legs of the trousers tucked into the tops of
road-worn boots. His hat was a broad-brimmed .drab
felt, battered and frayed. Mrs. Arnold sat on a stool, su-
perintending the work of the family, her elbows upon her
knees, holding a long-stemmed cob-pipe to her lips with
her left hand, removing it at the end of each inspiration
to emit the smoke, which curled slowly above her thin
upper lip and thin aquiline nose, and replacing it for the
next whiff. She was a tall, angular, high-shouldered,
and flat-chested woman, dark from exposure to wind, sun,
and rain, her hair brown in the neck, but many shades
lighter on the top of her head. Her eyes were of an ex-
pressionless gray. A brown calico of scant pattern clung
in lank folds to her thin and bony figure.
The three daughters were younger and less-faded types
APRIL 20, 1895.
HAKPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
419
of their mother. Each was clad in a narrow-skirted cal-
ico dress, and each was stockingless and shoeless. Mo-
ther and daughters were dull, slow of speech, and igno-
rant.
The Lieutenant stopped long enough to give some di-
rections as to the observance of camp rules, the order of
marching, how to prepare for waterless and woodless
camping-places, what to do in case of attack, etc., and was
about to turn away, when a clear boyish voice called from
the rear of a cedar-bush,
" Oh, Lieutenant, may I speak to you a moment?"
Turning his horse in the direction of the voice the
officer saw a boy approaching, switching a handsome rid-
ing-whip in his hand, a boy that made a good impression
at once. In fact, the quality, modulation, and evident
refinement of the voice had prepared Randolph before he
turned for seeing just the bright, handsome lad that had
now come up.
He was apparently about thirteen years old, neatly at-
tired in a blue blouse and gray trousers, with russet-leather
leggings, and a waistbelt of the same material, from which
hung a neat revolver and small pouch. A light felt hat
sat on a well-shaped head, around which clustered closely
cropped brown hair that showed a decided inclination to
curl. Two honest blue eyes set in a bright and intelli-
gent face looked smilingly up to the officer as he ad-
vanced.
"Yes," replied the Lieutenant; " what do you wish?"
"Well, I don't know as you can help us, sir, but my
sister's pony has lost a shoe, and we don't know whether
we had better pull off the other three or let her wear
them."
"Replace the lost one."
"That's not so easy, sir, with no spare shoes, and no
blacksmith this side of Wingate."
"Have you never travelled with a government train
before?"
"No, sir."
" How do you suppose we shoe these five hundred
mules that are drawing our wagons and constantly drop-
ping shoes?"
"Then you really have a blacksmith? But that will
do us no good. Brenda and I do not belong to the gov-
ernment."
"But a part of the government belongs to you," re-
plied Randolph. " Where is the pony?"
"Over there behind the cedars. Brenda is giving her
some sugar and corn-bread," answered the lad, pointing
with his whip in the direction indicated.
" Get the pony and come with me, and we will see if
'Uncle Sam' cannot spare a shoe for a niece's saddle-
horse."
Returning thanks, the boy ran back joyfully, and soon
returned leading a beautiful brown pony and accompa-
nied by a young girl. The boy said, " Brenda, this is the
Quartermaster who is going to have Gypsy shod."
The girl bowed, and as the Lieutenant sprang from his
saddle, instinctively doing homage to American girlhood,
she extended her hand, saying, "I suppose we must con-
sider that brother has introduced us."
"Yes, if 'Quartermaster' was my name," replied the
Lieutenant, "but I think you will find it more conveni-
ent during our long march to know my name." And he
handed the girl a leaf from his memorandum pad upon
which he had written it. "One does not carry a card-
case on a frontier march, you know. May I know your
name?"
" It is Arnold," replied the girl.
" Not children of Mr. Arnold ?— he told me he had three
daughters only, "and Randolph glanced from the neatly
and well dressed boy and girl before him to the three ill-
clad, barefooted girls at the camp-fire.
"No; we are a nephew and niece," Brenda answered.
"If you will lend me your pencil and paper, I will ex-
change frontier cards with you."
The pad was returned to the Lieutenant with the
names Brenda Arnold and William Duncan Arnold upon
it.
The contrast between the two sets of cousins was some-
thing more than one of dress. The young girl before the
officer was decidedly attractive in person, as well as re-
fiiied in speech and manner. How she could be even re-
motely related to the Arnold daughters at the camp-fire
was difficult to comprehend. She was a blonde, with
abundant tresses of flaxen hair held in a leash of blue
ribbon, and a delicate complexion which the journey had
tanned and sprinkled with abundant freckles, giving prom-
ise of rare beauty with added years and less exposure to
sun and wind. The boy was a self-reliant little fellow,
who exhibited a refined brotherly courtesy towards his
sister, a reflection of good home training.
The Arnold family history, incidentally gathered by
Randolph during a month's march, was briefly this: Bren-
da and William were the children of Mr. Arnold's only
brother, and had been reared in a large inland city of
New York. Their father and mother had recently per-
ished in a railway accident, and the children had been
sent to their paternal uncle in Colorado, who was believed,
as he had always represented himself, to be in affluent
circumstances. There were relatives on the mother's
side, but they were scattered, two of her brothers being in
Europe at the time of the accident. Brenda and Willie
had reached their Western uncle just as he was starting
on one of his periodical moves — this time to Arizona.
The different social status of the families of the two
brothers was unusual but not impossible in our country.
One of the brothers was ambitious, of steady habits, and
possessed of a receptive mind; the other was idle, im-
patient of restraint, with a disinclination to protracted ef-
fort of any kind. One had worked his way through col-
lege, had entered a profession, and married well. The
other had drifted through States and Territories — a rolling
stone that gathered no moss — and had married the daugh-
ter of a nomadic Missourian.
The pony Gypsy was shod by the soldier blacksmith,
and the boy William who led her to the travelling forge
was informed that the train contained representatives of
many useful trades, and that he and his relatives were
welcome to any services the command could render.
CHAPTER II.
ON the daily marches it was the custom of Lieutenant
Randolph to ride in the rear of or beside the wagons.
The infantry marched out briskly every morning, never
getting far in advance; but it was rarely seen again by
the rear -guard until the next camping -place was
reached.
The wagons of the Arnold family travelled between the
guard and the government wagons. They consisted of
two large canvas-covered "prairie schooners," drawn by
three pairs of oxen each, beside which four cows, four
horses, and four dogs were usually grouped. The father
and the eldest daughter drove the ox-teams; the mother,
the two remaining daughters, and Brenda rode the ponies.
William walked, or rode in a wagon, except when one of
the cousins, his aunt, or Brenda chose the wagon and let
him have a horse.
As soon as Lieutenant Randolph noticed that the boy
was dependent upon the charity of others for a ride, he
made him happy by giving him an order on the chief
wagon-master for a spare mule with saddle, bridle, and
spurs. Accordingly he appeared one morning mounted
on a little buff-colored mule with zebra stripes on shoul-
ders, hips, and knees, and accompanied the Lieutenant
during the day's march. The following day Brenda
420
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
joined her brother, and for the rest of the journey the
two usually rode with Lieutenant Randolph.
The route abounded with game, and in sections where
the column was secure from Indian attack the Lieutenant
taught the boy and girl the use of rifle and pistol with
fair success. The instruction began in camp, where they
were taught the mechanism of their arms and target prac-
tice.
Brenda soon overcame her natural timidity for fire-
arms, and became a successful rival of her brother when
shooting at inanimate objects; but pity for birds and
beasts prevented her from being a successful sportswoman.
The niece always acted as applicant whenever the Ar-
nold family desired a favor of their military escort. At
such times she made their wants known to the Lieu-
tenant. One day when the train had pulled out of camp
the two young attendants did not join their friend as
usual. He did not give the circumstance serious thought,
supposing their absence was caused by some domestic ac-
cident or delay ; and not doubting but he would presently
hear the clatter of the pony's and mule's hoofs as Brenda
and her brother hastened to overtake him, the Lieutenant
continued to ride on.
He had gone nearly a mile when a corporal of the
guard ran after him, and reported that the Arnolds had
not hitched up, and were still in camp. Halting the train
and guard, Randolph went back and found Brenda sitting
by the road-side in tears.
"What is the matter, Miss Arnold?" he asked.
"Oh, it is something this time," she sobbed, "that I
think even you cannot remedy."
"Then you think I can generally remedy things?
Thank you."
"You have always helped us so far; hut I do not see
how you can now."
"What is the trouble, please?"
"Our poor oxen have worn their hoofs through to the
quick. They have been obliged to travel much faster and
longer distances, in order to keep up with the military
train, than they ever did before. And the gravel has
worn out their hoofs. We must remain behind."
"Perhaps things are not so bad as you think. Let us
go and see, "said the Lieutenant.
"But we must go slower, Mr. Randolph, or the feet
will not heal. Uncle says so. And if we drop behind
the soldiers, who will protect us from the Indians?"
Rising dejectedly and by no means inspired by hope,
Breuda led the way to the Arnold camping-place, where
the officer found the father and mother on their knees
beside an ox, engaged in binding rawhide "boots " to the
animal's feet. These boots were squares cut from a fresh
hide procured from the last ox slaughtered by the soldiers.
The foot of the ox being set in the centre, the square was
gathered about the ankle and fastened with a thong of
buckskin.
"Are all your cattle in this condition, Mr. Arnold?"
asked Randolph.
•' Only one other's 's bad 's this; but all of 'em's bad."
"That, certainly, is a very bad-looking foot. I don't
see how you kept up with cattle in that condition."
"Had to, or git left."
" That's where you make a mistake. We could not
leave you behind in any case. You must go with us
somehow, for you would not last a day in this region if
we left you behind."
" I didn't think 'twould be of any use to say anythin',"
said Mr. Arnold. "You seem t' have all you can haul
now."
"We have three hundred head of oxen in our commis-
sary herd that used to belong to a freighter. We can ex-
change with you. A beef is a beef."
" Thank you, Lieutenant. I didn't think you could do
it."
"That's easy enough. Turn your cattle into our herd
and catch up a new lot. When we get to Prescott you
can have your old teams if you want them."
"Thank you, again. I shall want them. They know
my ways and I know theirs."
"Here, Willie!" the officer called to the boy. "Bring
up your zebra and take a note for me to Captain Bayard."
A note was written and despatched to the commanding
officer, detailing the circumstances causing the halt, and
the action taken by the writer to enable the immigrants
to go on. Half an hour later the prairie schooners were
again on the road and joy reigned m the Arnold hearts.
Frequent changes of draught animals were afterwards
made, until the close of the march, when Mr. Arnold's
stock was gathered from the drove and returned to him
in fine condition.
When the soldiers arrived at Fort Whipple, or rather
the site of that work — for they built it after their arrival
— the Arnolds made their home for a short time in Pres-
cott, and then removed to a section of land which they
took up in Cholla Valley, ten miles to the west by the
mountain trail, and twenty-five by the only practicable
wagon-road. This place was selected for a residence be-
cause its distance from Prescott and its situation at the.
junction of the bridle-path and wagon-road made it an
excellent site for a wayside inn.
Parties from the fort frequently passed the Arnold
ranch during the stages of selection, building, and culti-
vation, and the officers took much interest in inspecting
the arrangements for comfort, and the devices for making
a defence against possible Indian attack. The house and
stables were built of pine logs, squared and laid up hori-
zontally, the windows fitted with thick shutters, and
the doorways made to resist forcible entrance. Loop-
holes for fire-arms were made in the walls and tempo-
rarily filled with mud.
In case the house became untenable an ingenious earth^
work was constructed twenty yards from it, which could
be entered by means of a subterranean passage from the
cellar. This miniature fort was in the form of a circular
pit sunk four feet into the ground and covered by a near-
ly flat roof, the edges or eaves of which were but a foot
and a half above the surface of the earth. In the space
between the surface and the eaves were loop-holes. The
roof was of heavy pine timber, closely joined, sloping up-
ward slightly from circumference to centre, and covered
by two feet of tamped earth. To obtain water a second
covered way led from the earthwork to a spring fifty
yards distant, its outer entrance being concealed in a
rocky nook shrouded in a thick clump of willows.
From this retrospection the thread of the story may
now be resumed. While Willie's arm was being set and
wounds dressed, and preparations being made for the ex-
pedition, he told the officers all that had happened at
Cholla Valley on the day of the attack up to the time of
his departure.
A party of forty-one Apaches had appeared in the vi-
cinity of the ranch near the close of the afternoon, and
had spent an hour or more in reconnoitring the valley
and its approaches. Apparently satisfied that they would
not be interrupted in their attack by outside parties, they
began operations by collecting the cattle and horses, and
placing them in charge of two of their number near the
spring.
Next they fired one of the out-buildings, and under
cover of the smoke gained entrance to a second which
stood less than one hundred feet from the north side of
the house. Knocking the mud and chips from between
the logs here and there, they were enabled to open fire
upon the settlers at short range.
With the first appearance of the Indians, Mr. Arnold,
assisted by two travellers who had arrived that afternoon
from Date Creek on their way to Prescott, closed the win-
APRIL 20, 1895.
RASPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
421
do\vs and doorways with
heavy puncheon shutters,
removed the stops from the
loop - holes, directed the
girls to carry provisions
and property into the earth-
work, got the arms and am-
munition ready, and await-
ed further demonstrations.
The available defensive
force consisted of every
member of the family and
the two strangers. The
mother and daughters had
been taught the use of fire-
arms by the husband and
father, and Willie and
Brenda by Lieutenant Ran-
dolph. In an emergency
like the one being narrated,
where death and mutila-
tion were sure to follow
capture, the girls were
nerved to do all that could
be expected of boys of their
ages.
Until the Apaches gain-
ed possession of the second
out-building few shots had
been exchanged, and the
besieged closely watched
their movements from the
loop-holes. It was while
doing this that a bullet pierced the brain of Mrs. Ar-
nold, and she fell dead in the midst of her family. Had
the two travellers not been present, the demoraliza-
tion which followed the death of the mother might have
enabled the savages to reach the doors and gain an en-
trance; but while the family was plunged in its first
grief, the strangers stood at the slots and held the assail-
ants in check.
The body of Mrs. Arnold was borne to the cellar by
the sorrowing husband, accompanied by the weeping chil-
dren. The firing became desultory and without appar-
ent effect. Ball and arrow could not pierce the thick
walls of the log house. Only through the loop-holes
could a missile enter, and by rare good fortune none of
the defenders, after the first casualty, chanced to be in line
when one did.
The family again assembled in defense of their home
and lives, the grave necessity of keeping off the impend-
ing danger banishing thoughts of their bereavement, in a
measure. An ominous silence on the part of the Indians
was broken at last by the swish of a blazing arrow to the
roof. Mr. Arnold rushed to the garret, and with the butt
of his rifie broke a hole in the covering and flung the lit-
tle torch to the ground.
But another and another followed, and in spite of des-
perate and vigilant action the pine shingles burst into
flames in several places. At this juncture, Willie, whose
station was on the south side of the house, and who had
for some time been looking through a loop-hole in that
direction, approached Mr. Arnold and said:
"Uncle Amos, I see Gypsy grazing near the spring,
close by the willows, and the two Indians there keep well
this way, watching the fight. If you will allow me, I
will creep through the passage, mount, and ride to the
fort for the soldiers."
Mr. Arnold took a long look through the aperture and
replied: "God bless you, William ; I think there's a good
chance of your doiir it. If Brenda's williii', you may try
it."
Brenda's reply to the proposition was to throw her
LEAPING INTO THE SADDLE, THE BOY WAS OFF AT A FURIOUS GALLOP.
arms about her brother's neck, kiss him, and without a
word go back to her station. The lad silently took leave
of his uncle and cousins and dropped into the cellar.
Passing into the earthwork he took a bridle and saddle,
buckled on a pair of spurs, and crept through the passage
to the spring. Standing in the screen of willows he
parted the branches cautiously on the side towards the
Indians, and saw them, over a hundred yards distant,
standing with their backs toward him, watching the
house, the roof of which was now a roaring, leaping mass
of flame.
Closing the boughs again, Willie opened them in an
opposite direction, and crept softly up to Gypsy, holding
out his hand to her. The docile pony raised her head,
and, coming forward, placed her nose in his palm, sub-
mitting to be bridled and saddled without objection or
noise.
Leaping into the saddle, the hoy drove his spurs into
the bronco's flanks, and was off at a furious gallop in the
direction of Whipple. Startled by the hoof-beats the
Apaches looked back and began running diagonally
across the field to try to intercept the boy before he turned
into the direct trail. Arrow after arrow and one bullet
sped after him, one of the former grazing his cheek, and
the latter fracturing his arm.
It was dusk when Willie began his ride, and it grew
rapidly dark as he hurried along the bridle-path. Neither
he nor the pony had been over this route before. Twice
they got off the trail, and long and miserable hours were
spent in regaining it; but the fort was reached at last,
and the alarm given.
CHAPTER III.
WITH twenty-eight men, including the two scouts and
post surgeon. Lieutenant Randolph left Prescott for Choi-
la Valley. The night was moonless, but the myriad stars
shone brilliantly through the rare atmosphere of that
Western region, lighting the trail and making it easy t<>
follow. It was a narrow pathway, with but, few places
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
where two horsemen could ride abreast, so conversation
was almost impossible, and few words, except those of
command, were spoken; nor were the men in a mood to
talk. All were more or less excited and impatient, and
wherever the road would permit urged their horses into
a run.
The trail climbed and descended rugged steeps, crossed
smooth intervals, skirted the edges of precipices, wound
along the borders of dry creeks, and threaded forests and
clumps of sage-brush and greasewood. Throughout the
ride the imaginations of officers and men were depicting
the scenes they feared were being enacted in the valley,
or which might take place if they failed to arrive in time
to prevent.
It is needless to say, perhaps, that the one person about
whom the thoughts of the men composing the rescuing
party centred was the gentle, bright, and pretty Brenda.
She had been a conspicuous figure and a daily compan-
ion on a march of over four weeks' duration, and they
had frequently met her since their arrival and location
at the post. Her uniform courtesy and ladylike appre-
ciation of the slightest service rendered her had won the
esteem and respect of every soldier in the command. To
think of her falling into the hands of the merciless Apa-
ches was almost maddening.
On and on rode the column, the men giving their pant-
ing steeds no more rest than the nature of the road and
the success of the expedition required. At last they
reached the spur of the range behind which lay Cholla
Valley. They skirted it, and with anxious eyes sought
through the darkness the place where the ranch build-
ings should be. All was silence. No report of fire-
arms or whoop of savages disturbed the quiet of the
valley.
Ascending a swell in the surface of the ground they
saw that all the buildings had disappeared, nothing meet-
ing their anxious gaze but beds of lurid coals, occasionally
fanned into a red glow by the intermittent night breeze.
But there was the impregnable earthwork — the family
must be in that! Randolph dashed swiftly forward,
eagerly followed by his men. The earthwork was de-
stroyed— nothing but a circular pit remaining, in the bot-
tom of which glowed the embers of the fallen roof tim-
bers.
A search for the slain was at once begun and continued
for a long time. Every square rod of the valley for a
mile was hunted over without result, and the party gath-
ered once more about the two cellars in which the coals
still glowed.
"It was in the cellar of the house that the boy said
the body of his aunt was laid, was it not?" asked Doctor
Coltou.
"Yes," replied Lieutenant Randolph.
"Then if all were killed after he left — shot from time
to time — would not their remains be likely to be beside
hers?"
"Not beside hers, I think. The last stand must have
been made in the fort."
"Then the bodies must be under that circular bed of
coals, Randolph, if they died here."
" Probably, doctor. It's an uncanny thing to do, but
we must stir the coals and see. If all have perished, our
duty ends here for the present; if they are living, we
must find them. Sergeant Rafferty, have some fence
rails brought and examine this pit."
In a few moments a half-dozen rails were being thrust
down into the coals, their ends bursting into flame as they
searched the fiery depths. Nothing was brought up.
"Randolph, didn't the boy say something about a cov-
ered way from this cellar to the spring?" asked the sur-
geon.
"That is so, doctor; they must be in that. Can you
see any sign of an opening?"
, "Nothing positive. Behind those wagon-tires there
seems to be a natural slope of earth."
"Tip the tires over, sergeant," said the Lieutenant, and
presently a number of tires, from which the fire had
burned the wheels, fell into the coals, disclosing a- recent-
ly filled aperture.
"Looks as if the end of a passage had been filled,
doesn't it?" said the doctor.
" It certainly does," answered the Lieutenant. " Let us
go down to the spring and examine."
The two officers and several of the men went to the
spring. When they arrived there, Randolph and the
doctor broke a way through the thick-set willows into
an irregular mass of small bowlders. Climbing over
these they found themselves at the mouth of the passage,
a little over five feet high and three feet wide.
"This must be the covered way," said the Lieutenant.
Placing his head within the entrance he called, "Oh,
Mr. Arnold — we are here; your friends from Fort Whip-
pie!"
"Thank Heaven!" in a man's tones came clearly
through the entrance, accompanied by a sudden outburst
of sobs in girlish voices.
"We'll be there directly," spoke another man's voice —
that of a stranger.
Then followed the sound of steps accompanied by voices,
sounding at the entrance, as a voice spoken in a long tube
appears to be uttered at the listener's end. Some time
elapsed before those who seemed so near appeared ; but
at last there emerged from the passage Mr. Arnold, two
strange men, and three girls — but no Brenda.
"Where's Brenda, Mr. Arnold?" asked Randolph.
" Heaven knows. She gave herself up to the Apaches."
"Gave herself up to the Apaches! What do you
mean?"
"That's precisely what she did, Lieutenant," said one
of the strangers, adding, " My name is Bartlett, from Has-
sayampa, and this is my friend Gray, from La Paz. We
were on our way toPrescott, and stopped here for dinner.
But about the girl Brenda ; she took it into her head, after
we got into the little fort, that unless some one could cre-
ate a diversion to mislead the devils we'd all lose our
scalps."
"That beautiful young girl! Gave herself up to cer-
tain torture and death! Why did you allow it?"
"Wasn't consulted — surprised us. I hope, Lieutenant,
you will not think so hard of me and my friend as to be-
lieve we'd allowed it if we had suspected what the plucky
miss meant to do."
"Tell me all the circumstances, Mr. Bartlett," said the
Lieutenant.
The party moved slowly along the path from the spring-
to the fires, and as they walked Mr. Arnold and the trav-
ellers gave an account of all that had happened after
Willie left for Fort Whipple.
The burning arrows sent to the pitch-pine roof became
so numerous that the besieged found it impossible to pre-
vent the flames from catching in several places. The
boy was hardly out of sight before the house became
untenable, and the defenders were obliged to retire to the
fort.
When the house was consumed and its timbers had
fallen into the cellar, a mass of burning brands, the space
about the earthwork was clear, and the rifles at its loop-
holes kept the Indians close within the building they had
occupied since the attack began. Not one dared to show
himself to the unerring marksmen who watched their
every movement.
For a long time silence reigned in the out-building.
Not a shot came from its chinks, and the vociferous yells
were still. But for the presence of their ponies and the
two sentinels near the spring the defenders might have
supposed the Indians had gone away. The whites, how-
APUIL 20, 1S95.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
423
ever, felt sure that plans were being matured which meant
disaster to them.
At last these plans were revealed in a constant and
rapid night of arrows directed at a point between two
loop-holes — a point which could not be reached by the
besieged — and where, if a considerable collection of burn-
ing brands could be heaped against the logs between the
earth and eaves, the pine walls and rafters must take fire.
Walls and roof were too solid to be cut away, and water
couM not reach the outside.
The defenders held a consultation, and decided that in
the event of the fire getting control of the fort they should
retire into the covered way, block up the entrance with
earth, and remain there until help should arrive. It was
thought that the Indians would suppose all had perished
in the flames.
"But they know we came here by an underground pas-
sage from the house," said Brenda, " will they not sus-
pect that we have entered another passage if we all dis-
appear?"
"Perhaps they may," answered Mr. Arnold. "I had
not thought of that. We'll have t' take our chances."
' ' If one of us was to appear to escape from here and
join them, "continued the girl, "I think they would sup-
pose the others had perished and make no search."
"That may be true, but I'll take my chances here,"
said Mr. Gray.
"So will I, "said his companion. "A fellow wouldn't
last a minute outside this fort. I prefer smothering here
to the death those devils would give me."
Time passed on, and it soon became evident to the be-
sieged that the outer wall was on fire. It was shown by
the black smoke which wreathed in at the loop-holes on
the northern side, and drew in long lines to loop-holes
on the southern, and the fresh outbreak of whoops in
which there was a note of exultation.
The sun had gone down and darkness was creeping
over the valley when the first tongue of flame licked
through a crevice in the roof and showed that the fire
had gained a foothold. Soon a hole appeared close to
the eaves, which gradually enlarged towards the centre
of the roof and along the surface of the earth. With
blankets the fire was beaten out on the sides, but it crept
insidiously along between the timber and the earth cov-
ering.
In making the roof, branches of pine had been spread
over the timber, and the branches in turn covered with a
thick layer of straw to prevent the earth from filtering
between the logs. This material was as dry as tinder,
and held and carried the fire.
The men stood at the loop-holes and compelled the
savages to remain under cover of the out-building, while
the four girls exerted themselves to keep the fire from
showing inside. Delay until help could arrive was what
all struggled to gain. But the increasing heat and smoke
showed the defenders at last that they could no longer
put off retiring to the covered way.
The word was given and all entered it, and the men
with shovels began to close the entrance. When it was
a little more than half closed, the hole in the roof had
become triangular in shape, resembling the space between
two spokes and a felloe of a wheel. On the earth or fel-
loe side of the triangle there was no fire; but the other
sides were burning fiercely.
Making a sudden dash, and before anyone could realize
her intention, Brenda leaped past the shovellers, sprang
over the embankment they were throwing up, and by the
aid of a bench sprang up the four-foot wall through the
flame-wreathed aperture and disappeared, her clothing
apparently in a blaze. The war-whoops immediately
ceased.
No attempt at pursuit or rescue was made. The Ar-
nolds and their friends felt that it would be useless, and
only result in the death of the pursuers. The work of
closing the passage was resumed and completed, ami all
sat down in the darkness to await the slow passage of
time and the possible arrival of the soldiers.
None of the party felt sure that Willie had succeeded
in leaving the valley, believing his chances of passing the
Apache pickets were few and desperate. They had more
confidence in the supposition that Brenda's act would
cause the Indians to believe all but the girl had perished,
and lead them to depart at once with their booty.
After listening- to the story of the Arnolds, Lieutenant
Eandolph concluded that Brenda had fallen a victim to
the cruelty of the Apaches, and that a search would re-
veal her body mutilated and disfigured by her captors.
A rapid and excited search was at once begun. Far and
wide, over the plain, through the ravines, and into the
foot-hills rode the soldiers, leaving no part of the country
for two miles around unsearched ; but not a trace of the
missing girl was discovered.
Once more the detachment gathered near the ruins of
the Arnolds' home, and began preparations for returning
to Whipple. The remains of the dead mother were lifted
from beneath the charred timbers, and deposited in a grave
prepared near by. While the burial was taking place,
the two scouts, Weaver and Cooler, were absent, looking
for the Apache trail. Day was dawning, and as it was
probable when they returned that the command would
start, the officer ordered the horses fed from the loose
forage scattered about, and the men to prepare their break-
fast.
The scouts returned as the men were dispersing from
their meal, and Cooler placed in the Lieutenant's hand a
dainty lock of flaxen hair wound around the middle with
a strand of the same.
"I found it," said the scout, "beside the ravine yon-
der, a little more than two miles from here. The young
miss is alive and dropped it for a sign. The redskins all
left in that direction."
Whatever Brenda's three cousins may have lacked in
education and cultivation, they lacked nothing in affec-
tion. They gathered about the little tress, took it daintily
in their palms, kissed it again and again, and moistened it
with tears. Low sobs and endearing names for the brave
darling who had been willing to sacrifice her life to pre-
serve theirs fell from their lips. Poor rude frontier
maids, they had shown an equal bravery all through the
defence, and proved themselves to be worthy descendants
of the race that lhred through the colonial struggles with
the Indians of the Mohawk Valley. The three girls gath-
ered about Lieutenant Randolph, and, clinging to his
arms, besought him to go to the rescue of their cousin.
"Yes, yes, girls," he replied, "everything shall be done
that possibly can be done. We will start at once, and I
hope to bring her back to you. Mr. Arnold," he con-
tinued, "I will leave you a luncheon for the road, and
you must try to make the distance to Prescott on foot."
"Yes, sir, we can do it easy; thank you."
" I would leave you some of the men as escort, but in
such an expedition I shall need more than I have."
"That's all right, Mr. Randolph. If I had a horse I'd
go with you. There'll be no Apaches round this place
for many days, "and his eyes ran sadly over the ruins of
his home, resting finally on the grave of his wife.
Yes, Brenda was alive, and a prisoner of the Apaches,
spared by them, as children sometimes are after such
raids, for adoption. It was plainly the duty of soldiers
to rescue her from her cruel fate of a continued life
with her captors.
CHAPTER IV.
AFTER a delay sufficiently long to allow the scouts and
their broncos to breakfast the party mounted and turned
to the west. Lieutenant Randolph asked Weaver to
421
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
ride by bis side, and questioned bim about the country
before them.
" I suppose you are familiar with this part of the coun-
try, Paul?"
"Ouo-ht I' be; been here off and on since I was twen-
iy."
" Have the Indians a camping-place near here?"
"Yes; they spend a part of every year in this section,
gatherin' mezcal. From the direction they've took, I
b'lieve they're goin' to Santy Maree Creek/'
"That flows into Bill Williams Fork, doesn't it?"
"Yes; and 't has a northern and southern branch.
One of the favorite eampin'-places of the tribe is on the
southern branch."
"How far is it from Cholla Valley?"
"Fifty miles."
" Easy to approach?"
" Good ridiii' all the way, 'cept a bit of bowlder country
on a divide."
" Is the camp open to attack?"
"Wide open after you get into the valley. There's a
waterfall, or rather a piece of rips there that '11 drown the
noise of our comin'."
"Isn't it strange that Indians should camp in such a
place?"
"They are Mezcallero Apaches, and their food, the
mezcal, grows thick round there. Besides, there's no
other place on the stream combinin' graziii' and wateriii',
and they've never been hunted into that reg'ion yet."
"Well, Paul, we'll try to hunt them there now if we
have good luck."
The Lieutenant urged the men on as fast as possible,
taking care not to exhaust the horses and unfit them for
a long pursuit. The soldiers were animated by a strong
desire to punish the Indians for their treatment of the
family in the valley, and were excited by the fear that
the gentle girl in their hands might fall a victim to some
barbaric cruelty before they could be overtaken, so that
the animals were constantly urged close to their powers
of endurance. There was not much talking. Every
pulse was throbbing with a desire to get within rifle-
range of the savages.
There is no doubt but the Indian has been grossly
abused, defrauded, and cheated since the white man first
made his acquaintance. The scenes depicted in this story-
were the result of centuries of error and wrong. Few
army men are inclined to dispute this. The cruelty of
the American Indian is the cruelty of every savage peo-
ple, white or red, since time began. When on the war-
path, to the savage mind it seems proper that no cruelty
should be spared his victim. Whatever opinions, how-
ever, the soldier may entertain of the national method
of conducting Indian affairs, it becomes his duty to se-
cure peace by war when the resentful savage begins hos-
tilities.
War with the Apaches, the result of gold hunting and
land encroachments upon their reservations, had been
going on for several years when the attack upon the
Cholla Valley ranch occurred. The detachment now in
pursuit of a band of the tribe entertained the natural re-
sentment of a generous foe for a cruel and relentless one,
and a personal acquaintance and warm friendly interest
in the family that had suffered animated the men with a
strong resolution to administer severe punishment for
what bad been done in the valley.
Near the middle of the forenoon, as the soldiers were
riding up a canon, on each side of which rose rugged
sandstone precipices, they came to a fork in the trail and
the canon. Not only the track parted, but, judging from
the footprints, most of the captured stock had passed to
the right. Weaver said the right-hand path led to the
northern branch of the Santa Maria, and the left to the
southern branch.
The detachment halted perplexed. To divide the part v
of twenty-eight in order to follow both trails would be at-
tended by much danger. To take the whole number
over a wrong trail and not rescue B rend a was a course to
be dreaded. Lieutenant Randolph called the scouts to
him for consultation.
"Don't you think," he asked, "that it is probable a
girl who was thoughtful enough to drop a sign to show
she was alive and a captive would be likely to give us a
hint which trail she was taken over from this pointf '
"That's prob'ble, Leftenant," replied Weaver. "If
you'll hold the boys here a bit, George and I will ride up
the two trails a piece and look for signs."
"Go quite a distance, too. She might not get an op-
portunity to drop anything for some time after leaving
the fork."
"That's true," said Cooler; "the redskins would be
watching her very sharply. Which way will you go
Paul?"
"Let the Leftenant say, "answered the old scout, tight-
ening his belt and readjusting his equipments for resum-
ing' his riding.
"All ready, then," said Randolph. "You take the
right, Weaver, and George the Jeft. While you are gone
we'll turn out the stock."
The scouts departed, and a few moments later the horses
of the command were cropping the rich grass of the nar-
row valley, sentinels were posted to watch them and look
for the return of the guides, and the rest of the men threw
themselves upon the turf to wait.
An hour passed away, when Weaver was seen returning
from the northern trail. As he approached he held some-
thing above his head. Directing the horses to be got
ready, the officer walked forward to meet him, and re-
ceived from his hand a small bow of blue ribbon, which
he at once recognized to be the property of Brenda.
It now appeared certain the girl captive had been taken
over the ro;id to the right; so without waiting for the re-
turn of Cooler, the men were ordered into their saddles,
and the detachment started over the northern trail. It
had not gone far, however, when a man in the rear called
to the Lieutenant. Looking back he saw the young scout
galloping rapidly forward and waving his hat in a beck-
oning manner.
A halt was ordered, and Cooler rode up to the com-
mander and placed in his hand a lock of flaxen hair
bound with a thread of the same. Placed by the other
they were twin tresses, except that the last was slightly
singed by fire.
Well, tears glistened on the eyelids of some of the
bronzed veterans at the sight of the tiny lock of hair, and
the accompanying reflection that the party had barely es-
caped taking the wrong trail.
" God bless the darlint," said grizzled Sergeant Rafferty,
"there's not a ridskin can bate her with ther thricks.
We'll bring her back to the post, b'ys, or it '11 go hard
with us!"
The sergeant's remarks were subscribed to by many
hearty exclamations on the part of his fellow-soldiers.
It was evident that the Apaches had expected to be pur-
sued and had dropped the ribbon to mislead; and that
Brenda, noticing the fork in the road and the division in
the Indian force, and foreseeing the perplexity her friends
would be in, had dropped her sign to set them right as
soon as opportunity offered.
The Lieutenant asked the guides if it was not probable
the Apaches had a watch set on the overlooking heights
to see which road his party took at this point.
"Sart'inly, Leftenant, sart'inly," answered Weaver:
"they're watchin' us sharp just now."
"Then we had better continue on the northern trail
awhile and mislead them, you think?"
" My very thought. That's the best thino- to do. We
PLACING HIS HEAD WITHIN THE ENTRANCE, HE CALLED, "OH, ME. ARNOLD— WE ARE HERE!"
needn't reach tlieir camp until after midnight, and we
might's well spend the time misleadin' 'em."
"Yes; and it'll be better to reach them near morning,
too," added Cooler.
"Then we will go on as we began for some time longer,"
replied the Lieutenant; and the soldiers again moved at
a brisk canter over the northern trail. An hour after-
wards a halt was made in a gTassy nook, the horses
turned out to graze until dusk, when the route was re-
traced to the fork, and the march resumed over the south-
ern branch.
Night overtook the pursuers on a high ridge covered
with loose rounded bowlders, over which it was necessary
to slowly lead the horses with some clatter, and many
bruises to man and beast. The rough road lasted until a
considerable descent was made on the western side, ending
on the edge of a grassy valley.
At this point, Weaver advised that the horses should
be left, and the command proceed on foot; for if the
Indians were in camp at the rapids it would be impossi-
ble to approach mounted without alarming them; while
if on foot, the noise of the rushing water would cover the
sound of all movements.
Six men were sent back to a narrow defile to prevent
the attacking party from being surprised by the Indians
who had taken the northern trail, should they attempt to
rejoin their friends at the rapids. Randolph determined.
on the recommendation of the scouts, to defer making an
attack until after three o'clock, for at that time the enemy
would be feeling quite secure from pursuit and be in
their deepest sleep.
The horses were picketed, guards posted, and lunch dis-
tributed, and all not on duty lay down to wait. Time
dragged slowly. About one o'clock a noise on the op-
posite side of the creek attracted attention, and Cooler
crept away in the darkness to ascertain its cause. In
half an hour he returned with the information that the
Indians who had taken the northern trail had rejoined
their friends and turned their animals into the general
herd. Upon learning this, the Lieutenant sent a messen-
ger to call in the six men sent to guard the narrow de-
file, and shortly afterwards they joined their waiting
comrades.
An hour later Weaver announced the time to start.
Leaving but one man to look after the horses the rest
slipped down the slope into the river-bottom, taking care
not to rattle arms and accoutrements, and began a slow
advance along the narrow pathway, the borders of which
were lined with the spiked vegetation of the country.
Going on for some time, Randolph judged from the
sound of flowing water that they were Hearing the camp.
He halted and sent the two scouts to reconnoitre. Thev
did so, and returned with the information that the camp
was close at hand, and contained thirteen mat and .skin
covered tents or huts, and that the stolen stock and Indian
ponies were grazing on a tlat just beyond. Xo guards
were visible.
The flat about the camp was covered with Spanish-
426
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
bayonet, soapweed, and cacti, with here and there a vari-
ety of palmetto which attains a height of about twenty-
five feet, the trunks shaggy with a fringe of dead spines
left by each year's growth. Cooler suggested that at a
given signal the trunks of two of these trees should be set
on tire to light up the camp, and enable the soldiers to
pick off the Apaches as they left their shelter when the
attack began. He also proposed a yell, saying, "If you
outyell 'em, Lieutenant, you can outfight 'em."
Although the Lieutenant doubted whether twenty-three
white throats could make as much noise as half a dozen
red ones, he consented to the proposition. He sent four
men to the flat upon which the ponies and cattle were
grazing, with orders to place themselves between the ani-
nuils and the creek, and when the firing began drive them
back along the trail into the hills.
When these instructions had been given, Doctor Colton
asked Randolph if the firing would be directed into the
tents.
"That is what I was thinking of," replied the Lieuten-
ant.
" Of course Brenda is in one of them," said the doctor.
"Yes; and if we shoot into them indiscriminately we
are as likely to hit her as any one."
" Can you think of any way of locating her?"
"No; I am at a dead loss. We will try Cooler's plan
of yelling, and perhaps that will bring them out."
He searched for Sergeant Rafferty, and directed him to
forbid any one to fire until orders were given to do so.
CHAPTER V.
ORDERS were passed and dispositions so made that one-
half the force was placed on each flank of the camp. All
movements were made at a considerable distance from the
place to be attacked, and the utmost care taken to make
no noise that would alarm the sleeping foe. Once on
the flanks, the men were to creep up slowly and stealthily
to effective rifle range. When the trunks of the palmet-
tos were lighted all were to yell as diabolically as pos-
sible, and fire at every Indian that showed himself.
The front of the camp was towards the creek, which
flowed over bowlders and pebbles with considerable rush
and roar. The officer expected the Indians in their flight
would make a dash for the stream, and attempt to pass
through the shoal rapids to the wooded bluffs beyond.
The soldiers were told to screen themselves behind yuc-
cas, Spanish-bayonet, emole, and cacti. The Lieutenant,
accompanied by Paul Weaver, selected a clump on the
northern side, from which he could observe the front of
the tents. Sergeant Rafferty with George Cooler was on
the opposite flank, and the lighting of a tree on the officer's
side was to be the signal for one to be lighted on the other,
and for the yelling to begin.
All was done as planned. The flash of one match was
followed promptly by the flash of another. Two flames
burst forth and climbed rapidly the shaggy palmettos,
making the whole locality as bright as day. At the same
instant the imitation war-whoop burst from vigorous lungs
and throats.
Every one held his rifle to shoot the escaping Apaches;
but not a redskin showed his head. The soldiers yelled
and yelh'd, practising every variation ingenuity could in-
vent in the vain attemptstto make their tame white-man
utterances resemble the blood-curdling, hair-raising, heart-
jumping shrieks of their Indian foes, now so strangely
silent. Not a savage responded vocally or otherwise.
But for the presence of the captive girl the attack
would have begun by riddling the tliinly covered shelters
with bullets at low range. The Indians evidently un-
derstood that they were secure from injury as long as they
kept out of sight.
The two burning trees had gone out, and two others
had been lighted. It began to appear evident that if some-
thing was not done to bring out the foe, the supply of
towering torches would be exhausted and nothing accom-
plished. In darkness the advantage might be on the side
of the red man.
The surgeon, who reclined near the Lieutenant, asked,
"Do you think anv of those fellows understand Eng-
lish?"
"Guess not; their neighbors are the Mexicans, and
some of them know Spanish. You know we always em-
ploy a Mexican as interpreter when we talk with them."
"Then why not speak to Uremia in English, and ask
her to try to show us where she is. The Apaches will
not understand — will think you are talking to your
men."
"Thank you, doctor, that's an excellent idea."
A soldier was sent along both flanks with orders for
all yelling to cease, and for perfect quiet to be main-
tained. Then, acting upon the surgeon's suggestion,
Randolph called in a clear, loud voice:
"Brenda, we are here, your friends from the fort.
Your relatives are safe. Try and make a signal by which
•we can tell where you are. Take plenty of time, and do.
nothing to endanger your life!"
A long silence succeeded, during which two more palms
were consumed, and the officer was beginning to fear-
that he would be obliged to offer terms to the Indians,
leaving them unhurt, if they would yield up the captive
and the stolen stock.
But before the Lieutenant had fully considered this al-
ternative Cooler approached from the rear and said,
"Lieutenant, I've been creepin' along behind the wiggies,
and I saw somethin' looks like a white hand stickin' out
from under the edge of the tenth from the left."
"Show it to me," said the officer. "I'll accompany
you."
Making a detour to the rear the two crept up to the
back of the tent indicated, pausing at a distance of twenty
feet from it. It was too dark to make out anything defi-
nite. A narrow white object was visible beneath the
lower edge; that was all.
Cooler was sent back a short distance to light a palm,
and as the flames crept swiftly up the trunk the officer-
saw by the flaring light a small white hand holding in
its fingers the loose tresses of Brenda's hair. The ques-
tion was settled. The captive girl was in the fourth tent
from the right of the line.
Waiting until the fire went out, the two worked their
way well to the rear.
"Go back, George," said Randolph, "to your flank,
and tell Sergeant Rafferty to move his men to a point
from which he can cover the rear of the camp, and open
fire on all the tents except the tenth from the left and
the fourth from the right. The rest of us will attend to-
those who run."
"All right, sir, we'll soon make it lively for the ras-
cals."
" Light up some more trees when you are all ready."
" Yes, sir."
The Lieutenant crept slowly back to his own flank ami
ordered a disposition of his party so as to command the
space in front of the line of tents. In another instant
the flames were ascending two tree trunks, and the rapid
cracking of rifles broke the early morning stillness. With
the first scream of a bullet through their flimsy shelters
the Indians leaped out and dashed for the river. Few
fell. Rapid zigzags and the swinging of blankets and
arms as they run confused the aim of the soldiers. In
less than five minutes the last Apache was out of sight,
and the firing had ceased.
Concealment was no longer a necessary precaution, and
the soldiers thronged the space before the tents. Walk-
ing to the hut from which he had seen the hand and
tresses thrust out, the Lieutenant called, " Brendu !"
APRIL 20, 1805.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
427
There was no response or sound. Looking into the en-
trance, he saw in the dim light of the awakening day the
figure of a girl lying on her back, her feet extended tow-
ards him, and her head touching the rear wall. The right
arm lay along her side, and the left was thrown ahove
her head, the fingers still holding her hair.
A terrible fear seized the young officer. He again called
the girl by name, and receiving no answer went in, and,
with nervous fingers, lighted a match and stooped beside
her. He saw a rill of blood threading its way across the
earthen floor from her left side. He shouted for Doctor
Oolton, and the surgeon hurried in. From bis instru-
ment-case he took a small lantern, and, lighting it, fell
upon his knees beside the prostrate girl.
During the following few moments, while the skilled
fingers of the firm -nerved surgeon were cutting away
clothing to expose the nature of the wound, the Lieuten-
ant's thoughts found time to wander away to the girl's
brother Willie, who had been left at the fort in spite of
repeated requests to be allowed to accompany the detach-
ment. He thought what a sad message it would be his
province to bear to the lad if this dear sister should die
by savage hands.
The Lieutenant entertained little hope that the pretty
girl could live. He looked upon her as already claimed
by death. She who had made a long and weary march
pleasant by her vivacity and intelligence was to die in
this wretched hole.
But the tactus eruditus of the young surgeon was con-
tinuing the search for some evidence that the savage >l;ib
was not fatal, and his mind was busy with means for
preserving life should there be a chance. The officer
watched, and assisted now and then when asked; waited
with strained patience for a word upon which to base a
hope.
At last the doctor dropped the hand whose pulse he had
been long searching, and said: "She is alive, and that is
about all. You see her hands, arms, and neck are badly
scorched by the dash she made through the fire at the
ranch. Then this wicked stab has paralyzed her. She
has bled considerably too. But she lives. Press your fin-
gers on this artery."
"Can she be made to live, doctor?"
"The knife did not touch a vital part; but it may have
done irreparable injury. I can tell more presently."
Nothing more was said, except in the way of direction,
for a long time, the surgeon working slowly and skil-
fully at the wound. At last, rearranging the clothing
and replacing his instruments in their case, lie said, "If I
had the girl in. the post hospital, or in a civilized dwelling
with a good nurse, I think she might recover."
"Can't we give her the proper attendance here, doctor?"
asked Randolph.
" I fear not. She ought to have a woman's gentle care-,
for one tiling, and some remedies and appliances I haven't
here for such a delicate case. It is the long distance be-
tween here and the fort that makes the outlook hopeless^
She cannot survive the journey."
WATCHING FOR THE INDIANS TO MAKE A SORTIE.
428
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVL
"Then we will remain here," said the Lieutenant, with
decision. "Write out a list of what you want, and I
will send Cooler to the fort for tents and supplies, a camp
woman, Willie, and the elder Arnold girl."
"Randolph, you are inspired!" exclaimed the doctor.
"We will save this girl. I'll have my order ready in a
few moments, and then we will make Brenda comfort-
able. You and I can manage until a better nurse ar-
rives."
A letter was written to Captain Bayard, the surgeon's
memoranda enclosed, and a quarter of an hour afterward
Cooler was flying over the sixty miles to Fort Whipple.
Three davs later a pack-train arrived with the laundress,
Willie and Mary Arnold, and with the stores and supplies
necessary for setting- up a sick camp. The wounded girl
mended rapidly from the start.
On the fourth day succeeding the rescue Randolph re-
turned to the fort with all but Sergeant Ratferty and ten
privates of the detachment, who were left as a guard to
the surgeon, his patient, and her attendants. The recap-
tured stock and captured Indian ponies were brought in,
and Mr. Arnold was made even so far as oxen and horses
went. He made no attempt, however, to return to Cholla
Valley, but took an early opportunity to sell out his
claim and all belonging to it.
At the end of a fortnight Brenda had so far recovered
as to warrant Doctor Colton in permitting her removal
to Whipple. An ambulance was driven to the bowlder-
covered ridge mentioned in a previous chapter, and she
was borne upon a stretcher by the soldiers to where it
stood in waiting. All went well, and on the second day
after leaving the Santa Maria the invalid was comfortably
settled at the fort.
In time Brenda fully recovered, and Gypsy and the
handsomest pony captured from the Apaches were in al-
most daily requisition to take the young people on long
rides about the fort and town. Letters were sent by Cap-
tain Bayard to their maternal relatives, and just before
Christmas an uncle arrived at the fort and took charge
of his nephew and niece, taking them and their ponies to
his home in the East.
JACK'S FOX-HUNT.
BY ROBERT HOWARD RUSSELL.
JACK DALE was a city boy, and the greater part of
his years, which numbered fifteen, had been spent be-
tween walls of brick and mortar; consequently, when
one day a letter arrived from Jack's uncle, Colonel Phil-
lips, inviting him to come down to his plantation in Vir-
ginia and make him a visit, you can be sure that Jack
did not rest until he had obtained permission to go.
So one bright morning found our young friend Jack
snugly ensconced in the cushioned chair of a Pullman
car, watching the panorama of woods, rivers, and fields,
as the train sped along toward Baltimore, where bis un-
cle was to meet him.
Colonel Phillips was waiting at the station as the train
came in, and Jack was whisked into a cab and was 011 his
way to the boat before he fairly knew what he was about,
his uncle explaining as they drove on that the train was
late, and that it was past the time for the boat to sail.
However, he had telephoned to his friend, the Captain,
asking him to wait until he arrived, before sailing. As
the cab drove to the end of a long covered dock stored
with cotton, Jack saw that his uncle had not relied on
the good nature of the Captain for nothing, for there the
big boat lay all cleared away and ready to start, but with a
plank out for Jack and his uncle. As soon as they were
on board, the plank was hauled in, and with a hoarse
screech the steamer backed out into the Patapsco and
pointed her prow for the Old Dominion. After supper Jack
turned in, to dream of the rides and the shooting which his
uncle had promised him. Soon after daybreak the next
morning the whistle announced that the boat was nearing
some landing, and peering out of the state-room window
Jack saw in the red glow of the morning sun the little
round stone fort known as the Ripraps, which lies at the
entrance to Hampton Roads. Dressing quickly, he was on
deck before the boat had reached the wharf. Before him
were two great hotels, and beyond lie could see the para-
pets and earthworks of Fortress Monroe, and some sol-
diers in bright uniforms just coming out of the sally-port.
After breakfasting at the hotel, Jack and his uncle
were off again in a smaller boat. As they steamed up
the bay, innumerable ducks, disturbed at their feeding-
grounds, arose and flew to the right and left, with startled
cries. Soon Jack could see long stretches of shining
sand, and points covered with pine woods, and here and
there on the bay the triangular sail of a fleet Virginia
canoe.
Presently the boat landed at a long wooden wharf,
where Jack and his uncle were piled with bag and bag-
gage into a large canoe manned by good-natured-looking
darkies, which was waiting for them, and a sail of a mile
or two brought them to the point where the Colonel's
carriage was waiting to take them to the house.
After driving through long lanes, which skirted the
wooded swamps where the air was fragrant with the
odor of pine-trees, they came to an avenue of magnolias,
at the end of which Jack could see the great house, with
a group of colored servants about the door, waiting to
welcome the Colonel and his nephew.
Colonel Phillips had not forgotten them, and soon the
whole retinue, from Esther the cook, and Victoria the
housemaid, down to the smallest pickaninny, were smil-
ing over some trifle that he had brought forth from his
capacious carpet-bag.
While they were at breakfast the faint sound of a horn
was heard. Colonel Phillips's superintendent was on his
feet at once. "I declare," said he. "if I hadn't clean
forgot that I promised to meet Major Yancy at Hickory
Forks this morning, with my dogs, for the fox-hunt.
Perhaps Jack would like to go along and see how we
kill foxes in Virginia."
"I am not going to have Jack go on a fox-hunt the
very first day he gets here, sir, and break his neck," said
the Colonel. "I don't even know that he knows how
to ride a horse. Do you, Jack?"
Jack's entire experience as an equestrian had been
limited to rides in the Park, at ten cents a ride, on the
backs of ponies led by boys, and as he had outgrown the
ponies, even this experience was not recent; but never
doubting that this was a sufficient training, Jack unhesi-
tatingly answered, "Oh yes, sir! I commenced very
early."
"Well, then, Mr. Taylor," said the Colonel, "tell
Caesar to pick him out a quiet horse, and let him go
along with you; but mind, lie is not to leave the road
and try any neck-breaking performances at riding- cross
country, so if you start a fox, send him home. However,
I reckon lie will get enough riding by the time you get
to the meet, and be ready to come home in a wagon.
So have Caesar hitch up the cart and drive after you, so
that he can ride Jack's horse home."
In a few minutes the horses were at the door, and
Jack, not without some fear, was surveying the animal
which was to carry him. He looked so much bigger
than he had expected, somehow, and Jack even thought
he could detect a wicked look in his eye, and commenced
to wish that he had not professed to be a good horseman.
However, there was no time to think it over, and Jack
hail to decide at once, and being a plucky little chap at
heart, he had the horse brought beside the block and be-
M'l.-IL ai, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
429
strode the saddle, while Cassar adjusted the stirrups for
him.
It was pretty hard work for Jack at first, as they went
along at a sharp trot, and many times he had narrow
escapes from falling oft', and when the road was hard the
jolting would bring teal's to his eyes, but nevertheless he
managed to stick on, and to give Mr. Taylor, who was
riding ahead with the dogs, a cheery answer when he
called back to know how he was getting along. .
Arrived at the cross-roads they found the hunters
assembled, only waiting for Mr. Taylor's arrival to put
the dogs into the woods. To Jack's eye it was a curious
sight. His conception of fox-hunting had been formed
by looking at the colored prints in such books as Hand-
ley Cross, Sponge's Hunting Tour, and Mr. facey Horn-
ford's Hounds in his father's library; but here were 110
red coats, varnished boots, silk hats, and white ties, but
men of widely varying ages dressed in their farming
clothes, with slouch hats and heavy calf boots, and,
strung under their arms, old cows' -horn trumpets on
which to sound the blast when the fox was away.
The horses were a motley collection of every color and
in every stage of apparent decrepitude, although there
was not one among them who would not prick up his
ears and set a good pace across country at the sound of
the dogs in cry. Several negro sportsmen were riding
mules on which they had strapped the remnants of old
army saddles, worn to the tree and re-enforced by many
mendings of string and leather.
The dogs were also a miscellaneous collection, as the
county did not support a pack, but every man who
hunted kept two or three, and for the meet every man
brought his best dog, and each boasted that for sagacity,
speed, and keen nose his particular hound was unequalled.
Jack was introduced to Major Yancy, one of the oldest
fox-hunters in the county, and as they rode along toward
the strip of pine woods where they were to put the dogs
in, the old fellow gave Jack some kindly hints, which he
followed as best he could, and found that he obtained a
much better seat in his saddle in consequence.
Arrived at the woods the Major addressed the dogs.
"Hie in there, you Music! Hush, you Blunder!
Whoo - oop, you Echo ! you come heah, you rascal !
Thunder, Venus, you all of you get in there ! Git
him out! Git him out! Hie away! Hie away!" And
the dogs, obedient to his call and eager for the chase,
bounded into the woods, and with short low yelps com-
menced to quarter the ground for a hot scent.
The hunters took positions where they could survey
the road and the surrounding fields, and from time to
time urged on the dogs with shouts and calls.
Once the hounds started in full cry, and away went
the riders helter-skelter over the low Virginia snake-fences
and into the woods, only to reappear in a few minutes,
and reply to Jack's excited questioning that it was
"nothin' but an ole liar'." False starts and long
searches in damp woods took up the morning, and it
was long past mid-day when the hunters, finding them-
selves near the head of one of the many estuaries of the
Chesapeake which divided the county into a series of
peninsulas, adjourned to a fine old colonial house which
stood near the water, and enjoyed a lunch of crackers,
and delicious raw oysters just out of the river. Then
mounting their horses the party started for home. Jack,
although somewhat stiff, was commencing to consider
himself quite a horseman by this time, and cantered to
the side of a charming young lady who had joined them
for the ride home.
Miss Carter was twenty-one, six years older than Jack,
but Jack's heart had gone over to her in boyish admira-
tion when Mr. Taylor had told him, before presenting him
to her, that she was the best horsewoman in the county,
and that few men could outride her in a fox-hunt. She
was mounted on a beautiful jet-black mare which she
called Leuore, and as Jack rode up she called to him :
" I see that you are riding Telegram; what a pity you
did not have a run! There's not a horse out to-day that
would have headed him."
"Oh, "said Jack, "I had no intention of following if
they had started a fox. Why, I have never jumped a
fence in my life."
" You will soon learn, down here. Why, it is the
easiest thing in the world. All you have to do is to ride
straight at the fence, and before you know it you are
over.''
Just then Mr. Taylor rode up and called to Jack: " Say,
Jack! you ride along with Miss Carter. I'll catch up
with you before you get to Pointer's store. Major Yancy
and I are going to put the dogs in this little strip of woods
for a last try. There used to be a big gray in there last
winter, and he may be there yet."
The Major and Mr. Taylor rode across to the woods, fol-
lowed by all of the hunt excepting Jack and Miss Carter,
who kept on down the sandy lane. They had not gone
far before Miss Carter reined Lenore up sharply, and lis-
tened.
"Hark!" said she; "the dogs are running. They are
going towards Chappahosic. You must see some of the
run. Now follow me, and we will cut over to the end
of the woods where they must come out, and we can get
there before any of them. There is only this one fence
by the road, and Telegram will take you over that before
you know it. Come on!"
And before Jack could remonstrate, Miss Carter, with
sparkling eyes and the color in her cheeks, had touched
Lenore with her crop, and Jack was left alone in the lane;
but only for a moment, for if Jack was undecided, Tele-
gram was not. With ears pricked forward and nostrils
dilated he had waited a minute until he saw Lenore's
heels disappear over the fence, and then, with a little
snort, as though a trifle vexed at being outdone at the
start by a lady, he made a dash at the fence.
Jack never remembered exactly how it was, but he
found himself seated on Telegram's neck, holding on to
his ears, and crying, "Whoa, sir! Whoa, sir!" But
Telegram did not stop. The fence was behind, and Le-
nore was half a field ahead, and he must catch her.
With great effort Jack managed to slide back into the
saddle and get his feet in the stirrups, and by the time
they reached Miss Carter's side he had the reins in his
hand again, and showed no signs of his discomfiture ex-
ceptiirg that he was slightly out of breath and his heart
was beating very hard.
"Well done, Mr. Dale," said Miss Carter. "We will
make a fox-hunter of you yet."
Fortunately for Jack she had not turned to see him
take the fence, or she might have laughed at him in-
stead of praising him, and he never would have won the
reputation he did that day.
The hounds were now rapidly nearing the head of the
woods, and Miss Carter, who knew the voice of each,
listened with growing excitement.
" Old Thunder is in the lead! Just listen to his notes!
And Music is not far behind. Now watch, and we shall
see them come out near that tall pine."
The words had hardly left her lips when Jack saw a
magnificent gray fox break from the woods, with the
dogs close behind. Telegram saw them too, and before
Jack could stop him he was off with a mad rush, and
was flying at the fence ahead. Jack's heart was in his
mouth, but he managed to keep his seat this time, and
having found that he could not stop Telegram, he de-
voted himself to doing his level best towards keeping on
his back. On they flew, through ploughed fields, over
fences, across ditches, with poor Jack bouncing up and
down in the saddle, with the breath nearly shaken out of
430
HAEPEK'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVL
his body. His feet had lost the stirrups, which were
dealing blows as they swung about, first to Jack's ankles
and then to Telegram's sides, urging him on.
Jack shut his eyes as a bigger fence than usual ap-
peared in front of him, and opened them again as they
landed, with a jolt, in a big field of corn. The high
stalks hit Jack in the face, and threatened to brush him
off the saddle, so he bent low and put his arms around
Telegram's neck, and shut his eyes again, when of a
sudden Telegram stopped short. Jack felt himself flying
through the air, and before he knew it he had landed on
his back in an open ploughed field, and the whole pack
of dogs were around him, barking and jumping about as
though they intended to eat him.
Jack felt something soft and warm under him, and
springing up he discovered the gray fox.
The dogs had just killed him, and Telegram, emerging
from the cornfield, had stopped short, in order not to
trample on the hounds, and Jack had been thrown in the
midst of them upon the fox himself.
Jack had just picked up the fox and was beating back
the dogs when Miss Carter rode up.
"Well, such a chase as you have led me !" she ex-
claimed. "And to think of your telling me that you
never rode across country! Why, there is not a man in
the county who would dare ride at that fence with the
broad ditch in the last field, and I had to go around it
myself to get here."
Jack concluded that discretion was the better part of
valor, and tried to wear his newly won honors modestly
when the rest of the hunt came up to congratulate him
upon his skill and daring riding; but as he rode home in
the dusk beside Miss Carter, who wore the brush which
he had gallantly presented to her, he was a very proud
though very tired boy.
Arrived at the house, the news of his achievement had
preceded him, and the Colonel stood on the porch to wel-
come him home.
"Jack, you rascal," said he, "didn't I tell you not to
follow the hounds? What do you mean, sir, by disre-
garding my commands and trying to break your worth-
less neck, you scoundrel! I shall send you back North
to-morrow."
But Jack could see a merry twinkle in the old gentle-
man's eye, for in fact Jack himself was not half so proud
of what he had done as was his uncle. Caesar under-
stood this also, and when the Colonel called him up and
threatened him with all sorts of terrible things for having
given Jack Telegram to ride instead of some quiet old
horse, all he answered was,
"Fo' de Lawd, sir, I done knowed he cud ride as soon
as I sot eyes on him."
COALS OP FIRE.
BY PAUL HULL.
HIS name was Bill Ruggles. He was lanky and red-
headed and freckled, and his outfit in the way of
•clothes consisted of a pair of trousers that had evidently
•been discarded by one of the circus men, who were re-
sponsible for first introducing him to the little Connecti-
•cut village, and which, of necessity, he wore triced up half-
way between his waist and shoulders by a single sus-
pender. A checked shirt that betrayed little acquaint-
ance with the wash-tub, a pair of sorry- looking shoes
several sizes too large for him, and a black Derby hat
that had seen better days, and whose torn brim dangled
picturesquely about his ear, completed the inventory of
his wardrobe.
Several days before he had drifted into town as a stable-
boy with " Hawkins's Million-Dollar Circus Creation, "as
the show-bills had it, and when the Sheriff attached the
tent and animals on account of a judgment of two hun-
dred dollars against the aforesaid Hawkins, and the saw-
dust ring alone remained to tell the story of the show that
had made its appearance in a blaze of glory so short a
time previous, Bill Ruggles, like Othello, found his occu-
pation gone.
When the village boys made their way to the field
from which the last gayly decorated wagon had been
drawn away behind the curiously marked horses, they
found the late member of the company sitting disconso-
lately on an old feed-box, watching a cloud of dust hang-
ing over the road in the distance where the cavalcade had
disappeared.
For a time the merry lads pranced around the circle in
imitation of the performance some of them had witnessed
in that very ring a night or two before, when the flaring
naphtha lights made the interior of the tent as bright as
day, and the trumpets had blared in salutation to the
"startling leap for life," as the programme called it,
made from the flying trapeze by the Signora Inez Rivera,
who was known in private life as Miss Annie Murphy.
Not a smile crossed Bill Ruggles's pinched face as he
watched the happy gambols of the boys. Even when
Charlie Archer found an old barrel hoop, and in mock
gravity announced that the most daring ring jumping
act in the history of the world was about to be under-
taken by the distinguished athlete Mr. "Fatty" Hulse,
the baker's son, and when that individual had laboriously
squeezed his round body through the generous circle
amid the encouraging shouts and laughter of the playful
crowd, Bill Ruggles sat still and looked on with the same
settled expression of despair.
"I say, fellows," said Harry Clark, " who's the scare-
crow over on the box?"
" I think he must be one of those circus people," re-
plied Charlie Archer. "I never saw him around here
before."
" Hold on till I ask him," said the first speaker.
Harry Clark, the Supervisor's son, was the bully among
the boys of the village. His superior height and strength,
and his disposition to use the latter upon the slightest
provocation, made him feared by his companions, and
obliged them for policy's sake to admit him to their sports,
and to tolerate his coarse unkindly ways.
Stepping in front of the solitary figure, he was about to
address him, when he caught sight of the tears glistening
on the lad's face. "Oh, I say, fellows! come here and see
the big cry-baby," he called, with a loud laugh.
Bill Ruggles raised his head and looked at the curious
group before him. "What yer want? Why can't yer
mind yer own business?" he asked.
Harry Clark made a step in his direction. "Don't
get sassy, Scarecrow, "he said, "or I may teach you man-
ners. Now, who are you, and where do you come from?"
As the one addressed made no reply, the speaker con-
tinued: "You're such a distinguished-looking gentleman
that we're all anxious to become acquainted with you;
so speak up, and let's hear from you, Mr. Vanderbilt."
Bill Ruggles stood up. There was no sign of tears
now, and the melancholy look was gone, but in their
place were seen a pair of flashing eyes and a set face.
" Yer coward," he sneered, " ter make fun of er feller
because he's poor!" Then, as the boys fell back a pace
confusedly, he went on: "I ain't no gentleman's son,
with er good home an' clothes an' plenty ter eat; I 'ain't
got no one but merself, with no place ter go an' uothin'
ter wear, an' hungry, but I wouldn't be such er coward
as you ef I could ride in er carriage."
For a moment he stood there, forsaken and poor and
miserable, defying them all; then he turned, walking in
the direction of the village.
Perhaps it was shame that kept Harry Clark so silent
as the uncouth figure moved away. Charlie Archer
started after the wretched lad.
APRIL 20, 1895.
HARPEE'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
431
" Where are you going-, Charlie?'' called several of his
mates.
The boy faced about, and said, while the flush deep-
ened on his manly face, "I'm going after him to say
that I'm sorry we hurt his feelings, and to ask him to
come home with me and get some supper."
He rapidly overtook the lad ahead, who, hearing some
•one running after him, stopped and stood on the defen-
sive, not understanding the errand.
Charlie Archer put out his hand. "Say, I'm awfully
sorry we did anything to make you feel so bad, and all
the fellows are, too, and I hope you'll come on home with
me and get something to eat; and I think I've got a suit
of clothes you can have, and perhaps my father can give
you something to do down at the mill, and I hope you'll
shake hands and call it square."
By this time the rest of the boys had come up. Bill
Euggles looked doubtingly at the outstretched hand, then
at the faces of those who were gathered near.
"Say," he asked, " are yer trying ter make er fool er
me again?"
A chorus of earnest voices in emphatic denial followed
his question.
A soft look came on Bill Ruggles's face. He put his
a-ough, labor-stained hand in that of the boy's beside him.
"Fellers," he said, with a catch in his voice, "I think
as somehow — er — other this 'ere makes me feel worse than
I did before."
Silently and awkwardly, but in good faith, all the boys
but one stepped forward in turn and shook hands with
him. Harry Clark muttered something that sounded
like " tramp," and walked off.
The summer passed away, and Bill Euggles remained
in Riverville. Mr. Archer had at first given him a posi-
tion at the mill on probation, and had found him so trust-
worthy and diligent that he advanced him, and made the
situation permanent.
When fall came all Riverville was excited over the
thought of the annual exhibition and games that were to
be played 011 the fair -grounds just outside the village.
Among other features of interest announced for that oc-
casion was a steeple-chase for a valuable silver cup, to be
run by Harry Clark's horse and one belonging to the
town of Oakdale, across the river. Being an excellent
liorsemau, the Supervisor's son had determined to be his
•own jockey. Besides, his steed was a fiery, vicious ani-
mal, and never having had a rider on its back other than
its owner, it was extremely doubtful if a stranger would
be able to control it.
The day before the games Harry Clark fell from the
stable ladder, and wrenched his ankle so badly that he was
obliged to give up all idea of riding the race.
That afternoon Mr. Clark called at the mill to talk the
matter over with his friend Archer, who had been ap-
pointed one of the judges. A few minutes later Bill
Euggles was sent for from the private office.
" Euggles," said the mill-owner, "Mr. Clark's son has
met with an accident, and will be unable to ride to-mor-
row. His horse is a flighty animal, and Mr. Clark says
"that he must get a professional mount, for no one else
would be able to handle him. As you once belonged to
a circus company, I thought that perhaps you might
know of some one who would be willing to ride."
"If you do, tell him I'll give him fifty dollars if he
-wins the race," put in Mr. Clark. "You see," he ex-
plained, turning to Mr. Archer, "Harry has so set his
•heart on winning the cup that I would give a hundred
•dollars rather than see that Oakdale horse carry off the
prize."
"Well, Ruggles," spoke up his employer, "what do
you think?"
The boy's face was a study. "I think I know some
one, sir, as would be willin' ter do the act."
"All right then, Archer, I'll leave the matter in your
hands, and will go home and tell Harry about it."
After the door had closed on the portly figure of the
village official, Ruggles spoke:
" Mr. Archer, please listen. There ain't nobody as ken
be got ter ride that horse ter-morrer but er boy I knows
of, an' he has jes' growed up 'mong horses ever sence he
was born, an' understands 'em better 'n he does people,
an' though nobody don't know it, he lives in this village,
an' his name is Bill Euggles." Before the surprised
man could speak, the lad went on: " Yer see, sir, as how
Harry Clark don't like me fer a-callhr of him a coward
oncet when he riled me, an' ef as so be it I ken do er good
turn fer him now, it '11 show him as how I don't bear no
ill-feelin' again' him."
That afternoon Mr. Archer sent the following note to
the Clark home:
" Have secured the services of a good rider, who under-
stands steeple-chasing and will be on hand at the fair-
grounds to-morrow in time for the race. Send Harry's
riding-costume back by bearer, as the jockey will dress
at my house."
A buzz of anticipation went up from the dense throng
of spectators as the number reached on the programme
called for the contest between the Oakdale horse Firefly
and the Eiverville horse Saladin.
Harry Clark sat in a box on the grand stand, nervous-
ly fingering the crutch beside him, and pale with anxiety
and excitement.
A moment later a beautiful white animal carrying
crimson colors pranced out on the track, followed by a
coal-black horse, on which, seated like a Centaur, and
keeping the blooded brute well in hand, was a youth
wearing the Riverville blue, his face almost obscured by
the large peak of his riding-cap.
After one look Harry Clark gave expression to a great
sigh of relief, for Saladin had a master on his back, and
horse and owner knew it. At a signal the two animals
were brought behind the line. Half-way around the
track, a quarter of a mile ahead, a hurdle of three bars
uprose before a narrow ditch, while behind the starting-
post a rack of five bars marked the second and firial jump
that the horses were to take within a few yards of the
finish.
The starter's flag falls, and as though propelled from
a cannon the two mettled steeds shoot over the line.
Side by side they gracefully clear the first obstruction,
and now they are tearing for the second hurdle and
home. The jockey on the white horse is troubled. He
is urging his animal on with cruel spur to the top of his
speed, yet, without an apparent effort, the blue colors ex-
asperatingly keep abreast of him. They are within fiftv
yards of the hurdle when the multitude see the crimson
bring his whip down on the flanks of his horse, making
a desperate effort for the lead. At the same instant the
blue bends lower on his horse's neck, and drives his heels
into the black sides. A roar goes up from the excited
crowd, for, like a flash, the crimson is seen on the other's
quarter. Then they see the blue jockey shoot upright in
his saddle and lift the black horse beautifully clean over
the hurdle, two lengths ahead of the white. As Saladin
rushes by the winning-post the air is rent with cheers for
the gallant steed and its rider. Turning back to the
stand, the successful jockey salutes the judges, and is
handed the beautiful silver prize to present to the gentle-
man whose colors he wears.
When Saladin, proudly dancing and chafing his bit as
though conscious of his victory, is reined up alongside
the Supervisor's box, his rider looks up and hands the
cherished trophy to Harry Clark. With a startled cry
Saladin's owner pulls off the blue cap, and then, in the
presence of every one, he throws his arms around Bill
Ruggles's neck.
432
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
•H'lien tliefrr if/iit o»f, and so he angrily threw
the balf-cooked lish into the sea. Although
half broiled, it came to life again, and its de-
scendants— all Hit' flatfish — have preserved
to-day the peculiar appearance of their half-
cooked ancestor, being white on one side
and brown on the other.
Why do haddocks carry those peculiar
"finger-marks" near the head? Some tell
ns that they are a memento of the pressure
cil' M.Peter's lingers when he went fishing
for the tribute-money. On the Yorkshire
coast, they say the Devil once determined to
build a bridge at Filey. His Satanic Majes-
ty did not start the bridge for the conven-
ience of the people, but for the destruction
of ships and sailors, and the annoyance of
fishermen in general. In the progress of his
work Old Nick dropped his hammer into
the sea. Snatching at it hastily, he caught
a haddock, and all haddocks carry the im-
print of his black ringers to this day.
THE LION, THE PITFALL, AND THE BELATED TRAVELLER-A TROPICAL TALE.
QUEER FISH STORIES.
EVERY boy has told, or will at some time or other tell, a fish
story. One can readily understand the reason for the wealth of
fish stories when he remembers that legends and superstitions
connected with fish have descended for hundreds of years, mul-
tiplying with each generation. The following, taken from the
Fixliinii (!ii:i'tlc, are probably more curious than most others:
Ask a Scandinavian why salmon are red and have such fine
tails, you will be told that the ruddy color of the flesh is due
to the fact that when heaven was on tire the gods threw the
llames into the water, and the salmon swallowed them. The
delicacy of the salmon's tail is explained by the story that Loki,
when the angry gods pursued him. turned himself into a salmon.
He would have escaped if Thor had not caught him by the. tail.
.Salmon have had their tails tine and thin ever since.
Why are soles, plaice, and other flatfish brown on one side
and white on the other? The Arabs of Upper Egypt give an
explanation which no one can hesitate to accept. One day, they
tell yon, Moses, the Israelitish law-giver, was frying a fish — we
all know the Jews are fond of fried fish, and they cook it splen-
didly. Moses, however, had only cooked his fish oil one siilr.
A DOG'S PASSION FOR DOLLS.
HERE is a curious dog story that we quote
from the Birmingham Mail, of England:
The animal is the property of a lady who
resides at Small Heath, and some time ago-
one of her little girls was very fond of in-
ducing the dog to carry her doll, and the
animal acquired quite a passion for reliev-
ing the child of her precious charge. The
dog would carry the doll about for hours,
and oftentimes take it to his kennel and lie
down beside it for the greater part of the
day. He never harmed the doll, always-
gripping its clothes, and not defacing it in
the slightest. Up to a certain point its ten-
dencies were productive of unadulterated
fun, and so popular did the dog become that
the children of the neighborhood frequently
came to its owner's house with the query,
"Please, Mrs. , can your dog come and
take my doll a walk?" But by degrees the
animal's healthy affection tor dolls developed
into an absolute passion, and now a more
unpopular quadruped does not exist in the
whole suburb. Not content with carrying
a doll when requested to do so, the animal
commenced to prowl about the neighbor-
hood and forcibly deprive stray children of
their treasured pets. Whenever and wher-
ever he saw a doll in a child's arms he
would stealthily walk up to her, seize the
prize, and run off with it to his kennel. On
a single day he has been known to bring four
captures home, and the maternal indig-
nation of the neighborhood is something
terrible to contemplate. If that dog does not mend his ways
shortly, his career will be prematurely closed. The animal
should be engaged at Christmas-time in the interests of a chil-
dren's hospital — he would soon provide dolls for all the inmates.
QUARRELLED EVliN WITH HIMSELF.
"I THINK my new- baby brother is a quarrelsome little chap,''
said Mabel. "When he can't get a chance to pull my hair he
pulls his own, and last night while I was watching him he was
punching his own head as hard as he could."
•
A LITTLE GARDENER.
"MAMMA, "said little Willmr, coming up from the kitehen,
"can't I have some o' the baked beans left over from breakfast
for my garden ? I think it would be nice to grow 'em so 's cook
wouldn't have to cook 'em."
A PREFERENCE.
" I'M going to have a library," said Jirnmieboy after his father
had given him a half-dozen books.
"I 'ain't ever et any liberrys," said Fraukie. " Me'd rather
have a strawberrv."
HARPERS
YOUNG PEOPLE
Copyright, 1895, by HARPKE A BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 808.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY. APRIL 23, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A TKAR.
THE LONGMEADOW TOLL=GATE.
BY W. G. VAN TASSEL SUTPHEN.
part £•*.
/CONTROLLED by her powerful brakes, the Happy
\_J Thought slid swiftly and safely down into the val-
ley, and ran out upon the Longmeadow pike, hard and
smooth as a billiard table, and stretching1 away, a long
white ribbon in the moonlight against the dark green-
ery of the spruce-trees. The Happy Thought bounded
smoothly along on her great rubber tires, with only the
sharp staccato puffs from the exhaust-pipe to break the
evening stillness.
Half a dozen miles down the pike the driver of the
buckboard pulled up and listened attentively. What pos-
sible danger could there be of successful pursuit ? They
had taken care to cut the telephone wire every mile or
two, and with a good half-hour's start nothing short of a
locomotive could have kept pace with Bill Garvey's Mor-
gans. And yet there was something after them. There
was a sinister meaning in those faint mysterious sounds
that the wind carried past them, the steady implacable
breathin gs of some Frankenstein-1 ike monster already hard
upon their track. The two men looked at each other with
startled eyes. And then " Smooth Jim " gathered up the
reins, and the horses, stung by the lash laid sharply
along their flanks, dashed madly forward.
The Happy Thought stood against the parapet of Ten
Mile Bridge, and Jack was busy oiling up the bearings.
Fred stood looking thoughtfully at the frozen surface of
the canal that ran below. It was just six o'clock, and they
were ten miles on their way, an average speed of twenty
miles an hour. Mr. Jones was in high spirits. He was
•134
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
beginning to enjoy his novel ride, and expressed himself
as sanguine of success in the chase.
"I allow, "he said, " thet they ain't more'n two mile
ahead of us. Fifteen minutes, and we'll be shakiii'
hands."
"I've just been thinking," returned Fred. '' that we are
getting a trifle too near."
"How?"
" Why, you see, what air there is is blowing towards
them, and carrying the sound of our exhaust. They're
sure to hear it, and though they won't know what it is,
they'll guess that it means them. Now what's to hinder
them from dividing the money, leaving the wagon, and
making off into the woods? Or else they might drive
a little ways off the road and wait until we go by. Re-
member that they can hear us long before we can get any
idea of where they are."
Mr. Jones looked confounded.
" The only thing for us to do is to get ahead of them,
and then wait until they come up. In other words, we
must take another road, and the only possible chance lies
there," and Fred pointed to the canal. "It's frozen
solid," he went on, " for we were skating on it yesterday,
and there's just enough snow to give the driving-wheel a
fair grip. You remember that the pike crosses the canal
again at the old stone bridge, which is just a mile above
the toll-gate. If we can get there first, we have 'em
sure."
"It's further by the canal than by the road," put in
Jack.
"I know it, but the difference isn't more than a mile
and a half. We can make that up easily enough from
having a perfectly smooth and level road-bed. Of course
we'll have to make a carry around Lathi-op's Lock, but
we should have to stop anyway to oil up. It will be a
clear reach of ten miles to the lock, and about ten miles
further to the bridge. We can make it easily by lifteen
minutes after seven, and the buckboard isn't due until ten
minutes later."
The plan seemed too plain for any lengthy argument,
and a few moments later the Happy TliQiight was stand-
ing on the ice ready for the start. But Fred had slill an-
other idea. He had been experimenting a day or two
before with skis, or runners, for the front wheel, and had
found that they worked very well on ice and snow. The
appliance was a simple one, consisting merely of two
highly polished hard- wood runners parallel with each
other, set about eighteen inches apart, and with the front
wheel firmly stayed between them. The apparatus was
still on the machine, having been slung up out of the
way, and it was but a moment's work to put it in posi-
tion.
The crew and passengers took their seats, and the Hap-
py Thought started up again, slowly at first, but gradu-
ally gaining speed as the initial inertia was overcome.
The frozen surface of the light snow prevented any ap-
preciable slip of the driver, and there was just enough
friction of the forward runners to give steering power.
Faster and faster the banks of their frozen highway flew
past; mile after mile glided smoothly away behind. Jack
and the Sheriff were comparatively comfortable, but the
wind created by the rapid motion brought the tears to
Fred's eyes. A firm hand was necessary on the steering-
handles to keep the Happy Thought on her course, and
it was only now and then that he could venture to clear
his dead-lights with a hasty brush from his mitten. Fortu-
nately the moon was at the full, and there were no trees
to cast their shadows across the way. Ten, twenty,
thirty minutes, and Lathrop's Lock was in sight. Twenty
miles to the good, and the hands of Fred's watch pointed
to twenty-five minutes to seven. It looked like a sure
thing for the old stone bridge and the carefully worked
out schedule.
"That cooks our goose," remarked Jack, as they stood
on the tow-path looking down on the lower reach of the-
canal.
Instead of the smooth surface that they had been trav-
elling over, the ice below was a confused mass of broken
and jagged pieces. It was evident that the water in the
lower reach had been drawn off after its surface had
frozen. Deprived of its support the ice had cracked and
broken by its own weight, and fallen to the bottom of the
canal-bed. It was as clearly impassable for the Happy
Thought as a roadway paved with broken bottles.
" The tow-path," said Fred, briefly.
The skis were taken off, and the Happy Thought run
out on the frozen ground of the path. Unfortunately it
had been badly guttered by rain since the close of the
towing season, and the high speed of the last half-hour
was out of the question. The Happy Thought bumped
and jolted along in a very uncomfortable fashion, but
Fred managed to keep her out of the worst of the ruts,
and every now and then there would be a hundred yards
or so of smooth travelling.
As they ran past the slate-quarry, seven miles below
the lock, Fred managed to glance at his watch. Three
miles to the stone bridge, and it was now just seven o'clock.
"Fifteen minutes more," thought Fred. The noise from
the exhaust had suddenly stopped, and in another half-
minute the Happy Thought had come to a dead stop.
Fred looked back anxiously.
"Well?"
"Hot box," returned Jack, oil-can in hand. " It's the
crank bearing of the right-hand connecting rod. Another
five minutes and it would have 'set' for keeps."
" Can't you disconnect that cylinder, and run with one
engine?"
" Take a quarter of an hour to do that," said Jack, de-
cidedly. " But I can loosen up the bearing so that it will
run free—
" And we can pedal her while the crank is cooling off,"
finished Fred. "Hurry up."
Once more the Happy Thought was under way, but it
was hard work now. The crew "pumped" away stead-
ily, but there were three long miles ahead of them, and
the two boy-power was by no means equal to the two
horse-power of the idle engines.
"The bridge — just around that curve," gasped Fred.
"Give it to her."
They could hear the sound of wagon-wheels coming
down the pike; the buckboard was on time, and it was
only the question of who should reach the bridge first.
The Happy Thought swung round the curve — it was a
matter of seconds now. The brakes went down hard,
and the Sheriff and Fred jumped from their saddles and
scrambled up the bank. The hoofs of the horses were
clattering above their heads as they climbed — it was a
iirst heat for "Smooth Jim."
Fred put his hand on Mr. Jones's arm. " Save your
powder, Sheriff, and help Jack get the Happy Thought
up the bank. There's one chance yet."
It was a race to a finish now, for of course the robbers
had seen and recognized their pursuers. Two miles away
ran the river, plainly visible in the brilliant moonlight.
Even as Fred looked a rocket shot up from the direction
of the boat landing. Evidently " Smooth Jim's " con-
federates were in readiness with a steam-launch. But
half a mile this side was the Longmeadow toll-gate, and
the possible delay there was Fred's last chance. Once
past that barrier, and "Smooth Jim " and his companion
had only to maintain a running fight of a short half-
mile, and the stake was big enough to risk it. But could
the Happy Thought run them down in the mile and a
half to the gate?
In less time than it takes to tell it the Happy Thought
was ready. The hot crank had cooled off, the bearing
APRIL 23, 1895
HARPEB'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
had been readjusted, and the Sheriff and Jack were in
their places.
"Throw her wide open, and let her mizzle," shouted
Fred, his voice shrill and tense with excitement. Jack
switched on the current, gave a pull at the lever, and the
Happy Thought leaped forward like some gigantic jack-
rabbit. Faster and faster, until the flying spokes had
vanished into disks of steely brightness, and the sharp
staccato puffs from the exhaust were merged into one
long continuous roar.
Fred gripped the steering-handles, set his teeth hard
on the leaden whistle between his lips, and looked ahead.
The buckboard, .with its long start, was perhaps five hun-
dred yards in advance. It was a straightaway course,
with a four-per-cent. down grade. The Happy Thought
was certainly doing two feet to one, and the next three
minutes ought to settle it. Nearer and nearer, until he
could plainly see the figures in the wagon. "Smooth
Jim " held the reins, and his companion was plying the
lash with desperate earnestness.
Fred felt a touch on his shoulder. "Steady now,"
drawled the Sheriff's voice. " I reckon it's time to do
some talki n '."
Bang! And the heavy 44-calibre bullet sung on its
way.
"And missed!" screamed Jack from behind, as a little
puff of lime-dust showed where the lead had struck the
hard surface of the pike. "No use, Sheriff," he added;
" they couldn't stop now if they wanted to. The horses
have bolted."
Jack was right. The horses, maddened by the whip,
had taken the bit in their teeth and broken into a wild
headlong gallop, with the wagon swaying and jumping
bi'liind them like a ship's yawl in a sudden seaway.
And the toll-gate was hardly fifty yards away, and
closed. In another instant the horses, blind with terror,
would be into it, and then — Fred involuntarily shut his
eyes.
A dozen yards further on and he looked again. The
keeper, startled by the pistol-shot, had run out of the
house, and stood gazing up the road, struck dumb and
motionless by the appalling sense of the impending ca-
tastrophe. But only for the moment, and then, as though
stirred by some blind impulse, he grasped the lever, and
the heavy gate swung slowly open. Another and yet
another foot of clear space, and it was touch and go as
th 3 horses thundered down into the opening.
The gate swung in the same direction that the wagon
was running, and for a moment it looked as though ev-
erything would go clear. But it was just that last six
inches. The front near hub locked with the end brace
of the gate, and the shock threw the hind wheels fair
against the opposite post. A splintering of wood, a crash-
ing of heavy bolts, and "Smooth Jim" and his pal lay
stunned and motionless in the ditch, while straight down
into the chaos of dust and wreckage drove the Happy
Thought just as Fred's whistle to "shut off and hold
hard " rang out sharp and shrill above the deafening roar
of the exhaust pipes.
Well, it was a close shave, and no thanks to Fred's
skill in steering, that the Happy Thought kept her feet,
if one may express it in that way. A hundred yards
down the road, and the brakes brought them to a full
stop. The horses, who had broken loose from the wagon
when the shock came, were standing near, trembling but
uninjured. Mr. Jones had hastened back to the scene of
the accident, and was apparently engaged in the formal-
ity of reading the warrant of arrest over his unconscious
prisoners. Fred put out his hand and grasped Jack's
warmly.
"I obeyed orders," said Jack; "but why did you hold
on so long?"
Fred laughed. " Well, I had made up my mind to lay
the Happy Thought alongside of that buckboard, and, to
tell the truth, I just lost myself for that last minute or
two. It wasn't till I saw the wagon fly into the air that
I remembered about the whistle in my mouth and what
it was there for. And, after all, they might have gone
through clear."
The two bank-robbers, who had, after all, escaped with
a severe shaking up, had recovered their senses, and were
contemplating with sulky dazed eyes the bright steel
bracelets that adorned their wrists. The money had been
recovered, except that one bag containing a hundred
double eagles had been broken open and its contents scat-
tered around. The boys, with the assistance of the gate-
keeper, picked up the coins, while Mr. Jones acted as
cashier.
"Ninety-nine," said Fred, finally. "One twenty-dol-
lar piece still missing."
"Oh, I've got that," said the toll-gatherer, "and here's
your change." He handed Fred nineteen dollars and
ninety-one cents in bills and silver.
Fred looked puzzled.
"Went through the gate, didn't ye?" continued the
businesslike official. "Two cents for each passenger is
six, and three more for your critter makes nine. It
wasn't natchully clown on the schedule, that machine of
yourn, but I'm willing to let it go fur horned cattle."
"That's all right, boys," laughed the Sheriff; " there's
five hundred dollars reward for it to come out of."
GREAT STATE PAPERS.
BY HENRY CLEMENT HOLMES.
CERTIFICATES OF LIBERTY.
IS it not odd that a perfect copy of the Constitution of
the United States has never yet been printed? Such
is the fact, queer though it is. Every copy that has ever
been compared with the originals has been found imper-
fect. Words, phrases, and sometimes whole sentences
have been omitted. Even the most exact copies changed
many " buts" and " thes"— alterations that might easily
affect a legal decision.
Another odd fact is the so-called liberties of Magna
Charla, often .described by orators who wish to be unusu-
ally eloquent. Those " liberties " are so hidden in the un-
certain Latin and worse penmanship of that famous doc-
ument that we cannot, with any approach to exactitude,
say what they are. Indeed, Magna Charla is celebrated
not so much for what it contains as because it was the
first long step toward the liberty of English -speaking
people; the first curtailment of one-man power; the first
word the commoner ever had in his own behalf; the first
break in the wall that was once thought to hedge about a
"divine" King.
The original Magna Charta is a single sheet of coarse
parchment, about twenty by forty inches in size. It is
unruled, and the lines run the short way of the sheet.
Itishardly legible, even in thecapital letters, but it begins
with the name of the King, followed by his titles. The
lines are straight, but the penmanship is cramped. The
language is Latin, and the text contains not a few dis-
puted words and terms.
Eighteen barons signed the important paper — and at
the same time signed their warrants to a. place in English
history — and were followed by King John, who wrote a
fair hand for the day in which he lived — and for a King.
For a seal a stone (evidently picked up on the plain of
Runnymede) was attached by running a leathern thong
430
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
through it. I have held this unique seal in my hands —
a piece of black and white quartz that has witnessed our
political liberties since 1215, a period of six hundred and
seventy-nine years!
Magna Charta was almost destroyed in the great Lon-
don fire of 1666, and is now singed and quite illegible
across the upper half. It is preserved in a faded blue
plush case, and kept in the Cottonian Library of the
British Museum.
The path of political liberty took another turn in the
Bill of Rights, which seated William and Mary on the
throne of England; and yet another and sharper turn in
the Declaration which Jefferson wrote and which Frank-
lin altered not a little. You are all familiar with this
Declaration. The original hangs in the library of the
State Department at Washington. It is in a heavy wal-
nut case and under glass, yet the lines, and especially the
signatures, are faded almost to illegibility.
You remember that it was only after a second attempt
that we made a document that would hold our States to-
gether, tiie first attempt, the old Articles of Confederation,
having proved a failure. These Articles of Confedera-
tion are written upon a parchment roll that is fifteen
inches wide and about twenty feet long. This odd form
was copied from the old records of the British Parlia-
ment. The penmanship in which these articles are writ-
ten is a curious old script, rather large and open, and
yet not easily read. The first few lines are straight across
the unruled roll, but presently they begin to zigzag, and
finally to run down hill. An exact margin of two and
a half inches at each side of the text is maintained at
first, hut hardly does it reach Article First before one line
strays into the nice margin at tlie right. By-the-way,
this Article First fixes our national name — The United
States of America, and where it says the style of the
Confederation shall be so and so, it spells the word
'•stile."
At the very beginning, and covering the full width of
the text, are the words, in large letters, " To all to whom."
These words are executed in a hand-printing — an ama-
teurish attempt at old English script. This long parch-
KATIFICATION OP STATE OF NEW YnTiK.
ment is rolled on what you might easily mistake for the
rolling-pin your mother uses when she makes pie crust,
and it is kept in a rusty tin tube that stands on end in a
closet in the Department of State in Washington.
The original Constitution of the United States was
written upon a long roll, that was afterward cut up and
put under glass in five oak frames two inches deep, and
fourteen by nineteen inches in size. In four of these
frames are parchment sheets, easily filling the space, on
which are written the Constitution of the United States.
In the fifth frame are the signatures, and the resolution
submitting the document to the States for ratification.
This is the original of our national Constitution — the
only Constitution our republic ever had. Most States of
the Union have had from two to half a dozen Constitu-
tions, and the Empire State has recently changed its Con-
stitution again.
Tbe lilies of this original Constitution of the United
States run across the sheet, and the penmanship is very
coarse. The preamble, which so many of you can re-
peat, is separated from the text by a narrow space, and
there is no attempt at fancy lettering in the opening
words, as there is in the Articles of Confederation. Many
of the signatures are the same as are found at the bottom
of the Declaration of Independence. The amendments,
even the very first one, do not form part of this original,
but are written upon separate rolls of parchment, and
preserved in tin tubes that stand in the corner of a closet.
The number of these tubes is greatly increased by those
that contain the official ratifications by the States. The
earlier of these ratifications includes approval of the Con-
stitution and of the earlier amendments. Later amend-
ments, such as the celebrated Fourteenth and Fifteenth,
adopted at later dates, required separate ratifications, and
separate tubes.
The ratification of the State of New York, approving
the amendment about electors for President and Vice-
President, and dated 1804, is so beautifully engrossed that
it resembles steel engraving. It is eighteen by twenty-
six inches in size, and is written the long way of the
paper. It bears the Excelsior coat of arms in a conspicu-
ous place, and is signed
" Geo. Clinton, "in a hand
that suggests the plough-
man more than the pen-
man. This ratification
merely recites that the
amendment in question
has been duly ratified by
the proper State authori-
ties.
Did you ever read about
the agreement among the
delegates to the Constitu-
tional Convention that
framed our national Con-
stitution to the effect that
no record should be kept
of what the delegates said
in debate? The Journal
of the Convention merely
recites the dry facts as that
on this or that day Arti-
cle so and so was consid-
ered and agreed to. Pos-
sibly you- have also read
how James Madison, after-
ward President Madison,
alone of all the delegates
disregarded the agree-
ment, and hence gave us
our only insight into how
the keel of our Ship of
APRIL 23, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUA'G PEOPLE.
437
State was really laid. Madison's notes, which are among;
the most famous of great papers, throw a world of inter-
esting light upon the making- of this, the most remark-
able document of its kind that civilization lias yet
framed.
The sheets on which Delegate Madison made his notes
of the few opening days of the Convention are only four
by six inches in size, and the paper is quite poor in qual-
ity— apparently just what he happened to have. Imme-
diately thereafter the paper improves both in style and
quality, and continues uniform to the end, showing that,
having decided to make a careful record of the debates of
the historic convention, lie provided himself with a quan-
tity of suitable paper, realizing that he was writing for all
future generations of America.
Madison's notes are written on pale hlue paper that is
rough and unruled, seven and a half by nine inches,
and folded once — at the left. Upon the first sheet he
records the election of George Washington as President
of the Convention. The hand is small, and the lines
straight. The penmanship is that of a business man —
that is, all unnecessary parts of letters are dispensed with.
The d's have no tops, and the g's no bottoms. There are
many paragraphs. The text is on both sides of the
paper.
The speeches are not reported verbatim, but in the past
tense — as that Mr. So-and-so said, etc. Toward the end of
the notes Mr. Madison records that paragraphs and some-
times whole sections of the Constitution had been agreed
upon on the day in question. The paragraphs read as
THE ARTICLES OP CONFEDERATION.
we read them in the Constitution now, and thus we are
able to see, step by step, the development of this remark-
able document. Madison's notes are owned by the na-
tional government, and are preserved in handsome leather
bindings.
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
A Sequel to "The Fur-Seal's Tooth."
i; V K I R K M U N R O E,
AUTHOR ui " DORVMAIES," " CAMPMATES," " RAKTMATF.S," " CAKOEMATES," ETC.
CHAPTER XV.
PHIL HEARS FROM HIS FATHER.
MONTHS before Phil and Serge had bidden farewell
to Jalap Coombs in an ancient barrabkie on Ooni-
mak Island. They believed they were only leaving him
for a short time, but on their return he had disappeared,
nor from that day to this had they learned anything con-
cerning him. Now to have him reappear in this myste-
rious manner in an Indian village hundreds of miles up
the Yukon River, apparently friendless and alone, was so
incredible that, after his first exclamation, Phil stepped
closer and took another look at the weather-beaten face
to establish its identity bej-ond a doubt.
" Oh, it's me, son ! It's me, fast enough!'' cried the ex-
mate of the Seamew, in a voice that trembled with jo3'ful
emotion as he sprang to his feet and grasped Phil's hand
in his. At the same time a suspicious dimness came into
his eyes that he brushed away hastily.
" It's the same old Jalap," lie continued, "and only one
minute ago he were about as forlorn and miserable a
sailor-man as ever were stranded a thousand miles from
salt water. Now seeing that in sick a short space of
time he's been h'isted from the hold of grief to the main-
r'yal mast-head of happiness by the sight of your blessed
phiz, ye mustn't be surprised to find his rigging at loose
ends and decks generally cluttered up. But the squall's
blown over. lad. You've brought fair weather, and I'll
have the old packet shipshape and Bristol fashion again
in a shake. What I sartainly orter done was to remem-
ber my old friend Kite Roberson's advice consarning
squalls. I've spoke to ye of old Kite afore, hain't IT
" The name sounds familiar." replied Phil. " But how
in the name of —
"Waal, ef I didn't I'd orter, for Kite were one of the
finest of men. Why, me and him —
" Oh yes, now I remember," assented Phil. " What did
he say about squalls?"
''That in all his experience he never see a squall so
heavy but what fair weather 'd come after it sooner or
later. But Phil, my son, where hev you dropped from?
Where's your shipmate? And where's that bloomin'
shark of a cap'n what carried ye off right from under
your own father's very eyes?"
"My father!" shouted Phil. "What do you know-
about my father? Have you ever seen him? Where is
he? Has he gone on up the river?"
"Yes," cried Serge, entering at that moment, and
greeting his old friend with extended hand, "that is
what we want to know first of all. Where is Mr. Ryder?
They told me he was in here with Phil, so I waited out-
side until certain that the only other voice was yours,
and then I ventured in."
" Of course ye did, and I'm prouder to see you than ef
ye were the King of all the Rooshias, and Chiny to boot.
But consarning your father, Phil. Have I ever seed
him, say you? Waal, occasionally, considering as me
and him cruised together for nigh two months in Bering
438
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
Sea sarching for you boys. When we finally come up
with ye in Norton Sound, and see that you were steam-
ing right ahead, paying no attention to signals, it mighty
nigh broke your father's heart. It stopped a bit short of
that, though, and only broke his leg instead, at which the
swab as were steering- run the schooner aground on a
mud bank. Then by the time I'd got Mr. Ryder below
and come 011 deck again you were hull down."
"Do you mean that my father actually broke one of
his legs?" queried Phil, who could not believe he had
heard aright.
" Sartain I do,1' was the answer. "You see, we were
aboard an old tub named Philomel, which we had char-
tered her in Oonalaska for a cruise to Oonimak to pick
3Tou up. Thar we fell in with a reveiioo-cutter. and she
sent us up to the islands —
'• Not the Phocai"
"The very same, with Miss May and Cap'n Matthews
in command. At the islands we heerd of ye through an
Injin chap who had piloted your ship —
" Nikrik!" exclaimed Serge.
" Nikrik were his name," assented Jalap Coombs.
" So we give chase, laid a course for St. Michaels, and
got there in time for Mr. Ryder to make you out through
his glass. Then he thought he had ye for sure, though
I give him one of old Kite Roberson's warnings. But lie
didn't take no notice, and were climhing the main rin-
ging to make a signal for ye to heave to, when a ratlin'
give way and dropped him on deck. The man at the
wheel jumped to save him, and so did I, but it warn't no
use. He'd broke his leg, and the old Philomel took a
sheer into the mud."
" Poor father!" sighed Phil. " Now I know why I've
been worrying about him. I can't understand, though,
how he could undertake such a terrible journey with a
broken leg."
"Why not? They made him as comfortable as ef he
were in his own home. Besides, there warn't nothing
else to be did."
" Comfortable! with a broken leg, on a dog-sledge trip
of a thousand miles through an arctic wilderness in mid-
winter!" cried Phil. "Seems to me any one who could
lind comfort under those conditions might live in luxury
on an iceberg in the Polar Sea."
"Which it has been did," replied the mate, gravely.
" But it begins to look as ef me and you were sailing on
different tacks. Where is it that you suppose your fa-
ther to be at this blessed minute?"
"Somewhere on the Yukon, not more than a day's
journeyfrom here, though when I entered this room just
now I fully expected to see him," replied Phil, who had
so long cherished the hope of a speedy meeting with his
father that he could not even relinquish the idea of his
proximity.
"Yes," added Serge, "that is what we were told, and
we have come nearly four hundred miles up the river in
search of him."
It was now Jalap Coombs's turn to stare in amazement.
At length he said: "So you're spending the winter up
here hunting him, be ye? while he spent .the best part of
the summer down there hunting you. Seems to me it's
a leetle the most mixed-up hunting I ever were consarned
in. But it only goes to prove what my old friend Kite
Robei-son useter offen say. He useter say, Kite did, that
the liest way to find a man is to set still in some likely
place till lie comes by; but I never could hardly believe
it till this minute. Now I can see that ef Phil had set
in Victoria his father would have found him. Ef he'd
set on the Seamew he'd found his father in Sitka. Ef
he'd set on the cutter they'd met at Oonimak. Ef he'd
set at the islands he'd seen his father come that way afore
long; and the same at the Redoubt. Likewise, ef Mr.
Ryder had set at St. Michaels in place of going to San
Francisco on the Bear, Phil would find him there when
he goes back from here. Yes, old Kite were a wiser man
than most, though you'd never believe it to see him."
"You say that my father has gone to San Francisco.
Why did he do that?" queried the still bewildered boy.
" To dock for repairs. You see, the Bear were the
last ship of the season to go out, and so she were his only
chance. She had a wracked crew aboard as were willing
to carry the Philomel back to Oonalaska, and that left
me free to continue the search for you boys."
" Well," said Phil, " of course it's an awful disappoint-
ment to find that I'm not to meet my father, at least not
for some months to come, after all the trouble I've taken
to find him. At the same time I am glad to know that he
is safely out of this country for the winter, even if it did
take a broken leg to persuade him of the foolishness of
hunting for me. I should think he might have found
out long before that, though, how well able Serge and I
were to take care of ourselves. Poor dear pop! How he
must have suffered! I only hope he will stay quietly in
San Francisco until I can get to him. Did he say how
long he would wait there?"
"Only till sich time as he got his leg spliced and is
able to travel. Then he's got to come back to Sitka and
settle up his business."
" In that case things are working out all right after
all," said Phil, " for Sitka is the very place we are bound
for at this very minute."
"But he warn't going to stop there," continued Jalap
Coombs, "only till the first spring ship left for St. Mi-
chaels, when he reckoned to take passage on her and
come up after you."
"But how did he expect to find us at St. Michaels in
the spring when he knew we left there in September?"
"Because the very cruise I'm shipped for is to find
you, pilot you back there, and moor alongside of ye till
lie heaves in sight again. You see, he's taken a notion
that he'd like to come up the river and have a look at
the diggings, which he don't feel that he can till he has
you once more in tow. So, seeing as I were out of a
berth for the winter, and we heerd as you were froze in
somewheres up here *on the river, I took the contract to
hunt ye and fetch ye back. I'll allow, though, that things
were looking pretty dubious for me awhile ago, and ef
you hadn't hove in sight as ye did I'd been all at sea
without compass or yet a chart. Now, though, it's all
plain sailing again, and —
"Is it?" interrupted Phil. "Seems to me this whole
affair is about as completely snarled as any I ever had
anything to do with, unless it was a fighting dog-team.
To begin with— But, I say, suppose we have supper
first and discuss the situation afterwards. I for one am
too hungry to think."
" If you are any more hungry than I am you are hun-
gry enough to be dangerous," laughed Serge; while Ja-
lap Coombs remarked that supper was the very thing he
was considering when Phil entered the room. "And a
mighty poor lookout it were," he added, "for I hadn't
any gun, nor didn't know the best place to steal any, nor
yet warn't quite hungry enough to steal a supper any-
way. So I were jest concluding to go without, same as
I did for dinner. But ef you boys has got anything to
eat —
"Have we?" cried Phil ; " you just wait and see. Serge,
did you know this was Christmas day?"
"No," laughed Serge, "for it isn't."
"Well, it is so near to it, and this meeting is such a
joyous occasion, that I move we trot out our mince-pies,
and plum -puddings, and roast turkeys, and pemmiean,
and things, and have a regular Christmas blow-out. That
is, always supposing that Mr. Coombs will loan us the
use of his house. This is your house, is it not, Mr.
Coombs?"
APRIL 23, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
439
•' Sartain it is," replied the mate, with a grin, and en-
tering fully into Phil's absurdities. "Leastways there
ain't no one come to turn me out of it yet. So you're as
welcome to it as I be. For, as old Kite Roberson useter
say—
'' Let's have him for dessert," laughed Phil, as he start-
ed outside to discover what had become of the sledges.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE MATE'S STORY.
IT is doubtful if there was a happier party in the Yu-
kon Valley, or even in all Alaska, than that which un-
bidden, though none the less certain of their welcome,
took possession of the mission-house at old Fort Adams
that roaring December night. Certainly no one could be
happier than was Jalap Coombs at this meeting with the
boys in whose fortunes his had become so strangely in-
volved. At the' time of their opportune appearance he
was in one of the most unhappy and perplexing predica-
ments of his whole checkered career; but now his trou-
bles were blown away like a morning mist, and already
wellnigh forgotten.
Whjen the schooner Philomel, finally released from the
bank 011 which she had grounded, reached St. Michaels,
Mr. Ryder was greatly distressed by the accounts given
him of the expedition on which Phil and Serge had em-
barked. Knowing nothing of the conditions under which
they had been so glad to accept the friendly offer of a
roundabout passage to Sitka, and receiving a cruelly false
impression of Gerald Hauler's character as well as of his
objects in ascending the Yukon, he concluded that the
boys had been trapped into a reckless venture, which
could only lead them to disaster and suffering. In fancy
he saw them imprisoned by an arctic winter on a wretch-
edly constructed and poorly equipped boat as the Chimo
was described to him, or in some squalid Indian village
confronted by freezing, starvation, and disease, remote
from human aid and without the means of escape.
Bitterly did he deplore the accident that prevented him
from organizing a relief party and going m person to
their rescue. When, on the day after his own arrival, the
revenue-cutter Bear touched at St. Michaels on her way
south and her commander offered him a passage to San
Francisco, where he could receive the surgical attendance
he so greatly needed, he at first refused, declaring that
nothing would induce him to leave the country without
his boy Phil.
Then it was that Jalap Coombs offered to remain in
his place, make an overland trip to the Yukon as soon as
winter travel should be practicable, find the boys, and
bring them back to St. Michaels, there to await Mr. Ry-
der's return in the spring.
"But you know nothing of the country nor of sledge
travel," objected the latter. "You will not even know
on what portion of the river to look for the boys. And,
besides, what shall we do with the Philomel, which has
already cost me more than I can well afford?"
"It is true, sir, as you say, that I am ignorant of the
cruising -ground," replied Jalap Coombs, "but I'd be a
poor sailor -man ef with chart and compass I couldn't
make out to lay a course. Also, I've heerd of a party as
expects to start from here on a visit to all the up-river
trading-stations as soon as the season for sledge naviga-
tion opens, and I reckon there wouldn't be no difficulty
about me shipping with them as ex try hand.
"As for driving dogs, my old friend Kite Roberson
useter say that a man can 1'arii any trade ef he has to.
At the same time I'm considerable handy with both be-
laying-pins and rope-ends, which, I take it, would be jest
as improving to the usefulness of dogs as to a crew of
swabs, when it comes to getting the bearings of the port
in which the lads are laid by for the winter that would.
seem to be "a case of the plainest kind of sailing. They're
bound to be friz in afore long, even ef their old kettle
doesn't break down and leave 'cm stranded, which it's like-
ly it will. Waal, then, I strikes across country from here
to the river, and says to the natyves what lives on its
banks: 'Has sich and sich a steamer gone up stream?'
says I; which ef they answers si, or pui, or ja, or what-
ever stands for yes in their lingo, I likewise goes on up.
Ef they shakes their heads, which is ' No ' the world over.
then I naturally goes down, and keeps on down till I
meets her."
In spite of his present pain and mental distress Mr.
Ryder could not help smiling at the readiness with which
the simple-minded sailor thus disposed of difficulties that
to most people would appear insurmountable. "But
what shall we do with the Pln'lomcl?" he asked, after a
few moments' consideration.
" Send her back to Oonalaska in charge of the wracked
vdialing cap'n what has jest come in on the Bear. He'll
take her, and be glad of the job, for I've already sounded
him."
The more Mr. Ryder thought over the plan thus pro-
posed by the man who had already proved himself so
capable, so loyal, and so stanch a friend of the lost boys,
the more favorably was he inclined towards it, and at
length he decided to accept the mate's proffered services.
So, with many parting injunctions, and leaving with him
a sum of money sufficient to defray his share of expenses
in the proposed expedition. Phil's father sailed away on
the Bear in search of the medical aid that should enable
him to return a few months later and undertake, hi \com-
pany with his boy, a long-cherished scheme of exploration
among the fabled gold-fields of the interior.
Some six weeks later Jalap Coombs also set forth from
St. Michaels in company with two white men, both of
whom expressed an ardent admiration for Phil Ryder
and great joy at the prospect of assisting in his rescue
from the wiles of the unprincipled trader who had lured
him away. Under their direction the confiding sailor
invested the entire sum left him by Mr. Ryder in dogs,
sledges, and provisions, tie was amazed at the exorbi-
tant prices charged him for these things, and was still
more so to discover, when a few days out from the fort,
that with all his outlay he was credited with but one
team and a single sledge-load of provisions, which he soon
found himself exchanging for fish with whicli to feed his
dogs.
Furthermore, as he had been unable to master the art
of dog-driving, his obliging friends had engaged for him
an Indian, who began to demand his wages at the end of
the first week, refused to work unless he was paid in ad-
vance, and persisted in his demands with such insolence
that the mate finally felt himself obliged to administer
what he called a dose of belaying-pins and rope -ends.
The effect of this was a future obedience to orders, accom-
panied by a sullen hatred, which Jalap's white compan-
ions seemed to take a malicious delight in encouraging.
This sledge party went north along the coast from St.
Michaels to the mouth of the Unalaklik River, and fol-
lowed up that stream for several days. Then, crossing
a divide, they struck the Yukon at a point near Nulato.
Here they were told that a steamer, supposed to be the
Chi mo. had passed on her way up the river several days
before the close of navigation.
By this time the relations between poor Jalap and his
companions had become so very unpleasant that lie had
hoped for an excuse to leave them, and go down the river
from Nulato. As it was he now felt obliged to continue
in their company until the Chimo should be overtaken.
At old Fort Adams, after conferring with the natives,
his fellow-travellers informed him that the steamer was
frozen in about one day's march above that place, and.
with a lighter heart than he had known since beginning
410
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
A FEW MOMENTS LATER HIS DOGS STARTED AFTER THEIR VANISHED COMPANIONS.
Ihe weary journey, he again set forth with them, filled
with eager anticipations. When just at dusk of that
same day they discovered a steamer snugly moored to
the bank, he read her name with a sinking heart, for in-
stead of Chimo it was St. Michaels, which he knew to be
the name of a boat belonging to a Catholic mission on
the lower river. Moreover, she was boarded up ami de-
serted.
As Jalap's companions noted his expression of dismay
they uttered shouts of mocking laughter, and asked what
else he had expected when the Fort Adams Indians had
mentioned that very name so plainly that a deaf man
ought to have understood it.
In camp that night the sailor announced his intention
of starting back down the river at daybreak, at which
the others only exchanged significant glances, but said
nothing. In the morning, after the sledges were loaded
and the dogs harnessed, it was discovered that the driver
of his sledge was missing. Telling- him that he was thus
rightly served for chastising the poor man, the others
cracked their whips and started off up the river, leaving
poor Jalap standing on its bank helpless and alone. A
few moments later, at the sound of a familiar whis-
tle from the direction they
had taken, his dogs started
after their vanished com-
panions, carrying with
them his complete out-
fit.
With feet so badly used
up from weeks of unaccus-
tomed snow-shoeing that
every step was torture, the
deserted man at once rea-
lized the folly of pursuit,
and with a heavy heart be-
gan to retrace his slow
way to old Fort Adams.
Reaching the mission com-
pletely exhausted, and un-
able to proceed further, he
had taken possession of
the missionary's house.
Here, suffering, penniless,
friendless, and almost hope-
less, he was trying to form
some plan for the future
when the door opened, and,
as he afterwards quaintly
said, " Ef the good little
cherub what sets up aloft
watching over poor Jack at
sea had flowed in at that
minute, I couldn't been bet-
ter pleased than I were to
sight the blessed phiz of
that precious young rascal,
Phil Ryder."
Such was the tale re-
lated by Jalap Coombs to
Phil and Serge after the
three had finished a din-
ner that included every
luxury in the outfit of our
young travellers, and be-
tween long grateful pulls
at "old comfort," his pipe,
which they had also pro-
vided with tobacco.
When the story was end-
ed, Phil indignantly de-
manded to know the names
of the two white men who
claimed acquaintance with him and at the same time
dared treat his old friend so shamefully.
" Simon Goldollar were the name of one."
"I might have known it! The' sneak!" broke in
Phil.
" And the other are called Strengel."
" The very scoundrel that I set ashore from the Chimo
for trying to blow her up!" cried Phil. "You remem-
ber, Serge."
" I should rather say I did," replied the young Russo-
American. his honest face flushing with anger.
" But what are they going up the river for, Mr.
Coombs ?"
" To spile Cap' u Hamer's chance of doing any trading
at Forty Mile, as fur as I could make out," replied the
mate.
" Oh, the villains!" exclaimed Phil. " And they ha-ve
got two days' start of us, too, while you are almost unfit
for travel. Hold on, though ! I have it! We can do the
trick yet, and give them a lesson in minding- their own
business. Hurrah for our side, after all ! Serge, hurrah!
quick, before I fling something at you."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
IN THE GREENLAND ICE.
A W II A L E M A N ' S A D V E \ T U R E.
BY W. J. IIENDKItSOX.
" O AY, Han'some,"said Farmer Joe, " was yeou ever on
O the Greenland whalin'-graoun's?"
"Yes, I was," replied Handsome, "and I don't care
very much about going1 there again.''
"Why?"
" Why? Because it's the meatiest country 011 the face
of the civilized globe, that's why."
" What's the matter with it?"
"Ice — that's what."
"But I allus heerd tell as how there were a open sea
up there."
" Maybe there is, but I didn't see it. All I saw was ice
and ice, and then some more ice. I lived on ice, and I
came pretty near dying on it."
"That saounds like the interduction to a yarn, "said
Farmer Joe, stretching himself on his back and squinting
at a small white cloud which was soaring above the fore-
truck.
" Well, "said Handsome, " I suppose I may as well set
to work to tell you all about it."
"That's what," responded Farmer Joe, laconically.
"Then here goes, "said Handsome, disposing his limbs
in a more comfortable position along the sloping deck.
"I won't say how long ago this was, because it's none of
your business how old I am. I shipped at New Bedford
on the whaler America. The Captain, Joshua Coffin, of
Nantucket, said that he was bound for the northern whal-
ing-grounds, and I had always had a sneaking sort of a
notion that I'd like to see a polar-bear or a walrus at home
instead of stuffed or in a cage. So I up and shipped with
him then and there. I've told you fellows all about the
fitting out and sailing of a whaler, so I won't go over it
again. We cleared on a beautiful morning in February, it
being the skipper's idea to get up north in the spring, hunt
whales all summer and in the early fall, and then make
for low latitudes. He'd been up there before, and had
vowed he would never go again, but I've noticed that
most men who've been in the arctic once go back. They
can't help it. It's a kind of disease. The only way to
get cured of it is to get such a dose as we did. That
either cures or kills. Now, Captain Coffin — But we'll
get to that after a while.
"We got across the Nantucket shoals and right well
out to sea while the pleasant weather lasted. Then we
ran into a nor' westerly gale. Captain Coffin hove the
America to on the port tack, and there we staid for two
days, driftijig like a chip. However, when it cleared off
the wind came in from the southward, and we bowled along
THE LAST PLUNGE OF THE "AMERICA."
442
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
at a ten-knot gait. The weather was good enough, though
the winds weren't always the way we would have liked
them; but, anyhow, we made Cape Race a week after the
gale, and by the middle of March we were in the entrance
of Davis Strait. Here we found the ice altogether too
plenty for comfort, so the skipper headed her to the
southward and eastward for clear open water. But, say,
the whaling was about the poorest I ever saw. We
cruised and cruised and cruised, till I thought the men
would go crazy for the want of something to do. But at
lust the welcome cry of, 'There blows!' broke from the
must bead, and we got our first kill, a splendid Greenland
right whale.
" And now the ice began to break up in the north, and
we just had our hands full dodging bergs, and as for
calving — say. did you ever see an iceberg- calve? No?
Well, it's a very fine sight to see — at a good distance.
The warm water melts away the under part of the moun-
tain of ice till there's a great overhanging piece, the size
of one of those big office buildings in New York. First
thing you know that breaks off, and falls into the sea with
a roar like thunder. It raises a mountainous wave that
almost throws a ship on her beam ends, and pretty nigh
rolls the masts right out of her. We were lying be-
calmed less than half a mile from a monster berg when
it dropped off one of those pieces, and I tell you if we
hadn't luckily been head to the sea it raised, we'd have
been sent to the bottom then and there. However, that
isn't exactly what I started out to tell you.
"Captain Joshua Coffin was pretty well disgusted with
the kind of luck we'd been having — out now two months
and only one whale — so he decided that we must push
further north. So away we went right up to Upernavik,
where we put in for a fresh supply of water and some
fresh meat. Now, that was where the skipper made the
mistake of his life. For when he'd got to Upernavik
nothing would do but he must cruise to the northward
of that place for whales. Now, every one knows that
Baffin's Bay, and much less Smith's Sound, is no place
for whaling. But as luck would have it we hadn't got
twenty miles north of Upernavik when we killed a whale,
and the Captain said, 'See that? We're right in the
middle of luck up here.'
"We stood on to the northward. Two or three days
later we ran into a dead flat calm. Then there set in
a long unearthly swell from the southward. The ship
rolled like something mortal in a great agony. Her top-
masts swayed and bent like long whips, and the swinging
of her yards tilled the air over our heads with a horrid
groaning. The sky turned a sort of sickly yellow, like
a heavy fog with sunlight behind it, except around the
horizon, where it had a reddish tinge as if blood had been
spilled. There was not a breath of air, and from the
shore came echoing across the oily water all kinds of
strange cries of birds and beasts. After a time the air
filled with the rushing of wings, and, looking up, ve saw
thousands of birds flying around and around over the
ship like vultures hovering over their prey. There were
gloomy-tinted gulls and frittering ptarmigans and broad-
winged, solemn albatrosses. And now a new noise arose.
The rising swell began to make havoc among the loose
ice along the shores. Great pieces were tossed into the
air, and hurled together with terrific force, and the crash-
ing of them filled our ears with a noise like that of a
battle.
'If this keeps on,' muttered the skipper, 'the ice to
the north'ard of us '11 begin to drift down, and then,
unless we get a breeze, we'll be in a serious position.'
" Well, sure enough, it wasn't very long before we all
saw what looked like a white vapor under the edges of
the reddish gloom along the northern horizon.
'That's the ice.' said the skipper. 'It's coming
down.'
"The vapor-looking line seemed to hang up there on
the horizon, but after a time I saw some white spots that
seemed to grow in size and come nearer and nearer. As
they approached they took on a leaping motion, and then
I knew that they were large pieces of ice tossed by the
swell. Say, it was a sort of ghastly sight to see those
pieces coming down slowly and steadily in the teeth of a
swell that ought to have driven them back. As the first
piece drew near us we discovered a lot of black spots on
it, and we began to hear a most direful roaring.
' 'Lord save us!' cried young Billy Butt. 'What is
it?'
" As it drew nearer and nearer we saw that the piece
of ice was covered with sea-lions which were lifting their
heads, showing1 their white fangs, and fairly shrieking
at the ship in their anger.
'Well,' said Billy, 'if that ain't a warn in' to git out
o' here, I never seed one in my life.'
" It was all very well to talk about warnings to get
out, but we couldn't. All day long and all through the
night this deathly calm prevailed, and the air was full of
the crashing and grinding of the ice, the shrieking of
wild birds, and the demonlike yelling of wild beasts.
Just before dawn there came a little puff of wind. It was
from the northward.
' ' Now, lads !' cried the Captain, ' here comes the breeze
just where we want it. Clap the cloth on her.'
"We made sail at once, and in a few minutes had the
tops'ls and to'gallants loosed. But bless you! the puff
died out and left us rolling worse than ever. I tell you,
lads, she dipped her tops'l yard-arms into it. Suddenly
we heard a great moaning to the southward, as if the great-
grandfather of all seals was being killed. The moaning
grew into a cry and the cry into a scream.
" ' Here it comes!' shouted Billy Butt; ' the Lord have
mercy on us!'
"The next minute the gale came howling out of the
south. The America went over on her beam ends like a
man struck with a club. For a moment we thought it
was all over with us, but the stout canvas of the tops'ls
and to'gallants yielded to the strain. With reports like
cannon the sails burst from their bolt-ropes, and went
swirling away to leeward. The ship righted, and we set
to work at once to get a bit of the spanker set to hold
her head to the seas, which were now something a"wful
to look 'at. Our effort was successful, and we managed
to bring her to 011 the port tack. But that didn't ease
our minds any. We knew well enough what was under
our lee. And still large humps of ice kept making their
way to the southward. It was terrifying to see them
hurled away aloft on a sea when we were down in the
trough. They loomed over us every now and then
threatening instant destruction. We were perfectly help-
less, and could only wait in silence to see what would
happen. Suddenly a loud cry burst from the men who
were away forward, and they rushed aft with frantic
haste. A gigantic block of ice, weighing hundreds of
tons, was poised on the brow of a great black sea. Then
down it came and struck the vessel just beyond her knight-
heads, breaking the bowsprit short off, and causing the
fore-to'gallant mast to go by the board. At once the
Captain gave the carpenter orders to sound the pump
and see if we were taking in any water, while a lot of us
were set to work to clear away the wreck forward. A
few minutes later the carpenter reported six inches of
water in the hold, and we were set to work to pump her
out. And now we noticed that the ice no longer came
down from the north, but, on the contrary, it began to
come up frorn the south.
.' It's the tide, that's what it is,' said the Captain.
" And then we all realized that all that had kept us
from driving bodily to leeward against the mass of ice to
the north was a tremendous ebb tide. Now it was run-
APRIL 23, 18'J5.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
443
ning flood, and with tide, wind, and sea we were tearing
at an awful rate straight to destruction. Some of the
men began to lose their wits. Some sang, some laughed,
some danced, some raved in the most reckless manner.
Others sat down on the decks and, supporting their pale
faces in their hands, stared with vacant eyes at the reel-
ing waves.
"'Come, lads, come!' cried the Captain, 'this won't
do; while there's life there's hope.'
"Now some set to work at the pumps again, but it was
in a half-hearted manner. Suddenly a terrible cry arose
forward.
" 'Breakers on the lee bow!'
"'With that Billy Butt just fell down on the deck
senseless. We all saw the breakers clashing against the
ice-pack, which was leaping, groaning, grinding, and
crashing with a deafening noise. I tell you, lads, it was
a sight to make the boldest lose heart. At that instant
a wild flurry of snow broke loose, and it seemed as if a
ghostly curtain of white had been let down between us
and our doom. But that only made it more terrible, for
we could not see it, but we could hear the dreadful grind-
ing of the ice. There was no way known to a sailor of
checking the frightful drift of the vessel.
' We must be pretty close to it!' I shouted, for you
had to shout in that din.
"Yes," the Captain shouted back; 'and when we
strike, good-by to us all.'
"It seemed an hour, yet it could not have been more
than a minute, before the ship was swung thirty feet high
upon a mountainous wave, and hurled bodily down upon
the ice-pack with a heartrending crash. Every man of
us was thrown down, and some were badly hurt. The
fact is, the ship had struck squarely on her bottom on top
of the ice, and the next moment the cakes separated and
let her down between them. Then they came toward
one another, squeezing her between them. Say, lads, I
never want to hear anything again like the rending and
crashing of her sides. It sounded as if she were a big
human thing in awful agony. If the crew had been de-
prived of their wits before, they went quite mad now.
Billy Butt came to, grabbed a life-preserver, and jumped
overboard. Of course he was never seen again. The
Captain he called to the two or three of us who still had
some control of our senses, and told us to jump below and
get any provisions we could lay hands on. Of course
we didn't waste much time at it, for we didn't know at
what moment the ice might open and let go of the Amer-
ica, and we knew that when it did she would go to the
bottom. In a few seconds we were back on deck with a
small stock of food and some condensed coffee. The
Captain slung a line over the side, and, climbing down,
bade us follow. We did so with great haste, for we could
feel the ship beginning to heave again. We went down
away forward, and even then we were almost swept away
by the wash of a big sea that broke upon the ice. For-
tunately the snow stopped, it had been only a squall, and
we were able to see where we were going. We pushed
further inland, or in-ice, and we hadn't gone two hun-
dred yards before the cakes separated, and we heard a
few screams as the America went down bodily and the
loose ice closed over her.
" We camped out on the heaving ice that night, but, of
course, no one went to sleep. The gale broke, however,
and we had some comfort in our misery. It was sum-
mer, you know, so there wasn't much night to speak of,
and at two o'clock in the morning we began to take
counsel among ourselves as to what we should do. But
our debate was cut short by several terrific reports, like
the firing1 of heavy cannon.
" ' Why, the ice is cracking!' exclaimed the Captain.
"Sure enough, it seemed that the ebb tide had set in
again, and that the ice along the edges of the pack was
breaking off and starting southward. We started up
and moved forward, but we were too late. The piece
on which we were had already begun to float down, and
we found it was surrounded by an impassable channel.
And now comes the strangest part of my story. This
particular cake of ice, which was about fifty yards square,
got out of the tidal current and into an eddy which kept
it in one place, while the tide was running flood again.
When the ebb returned it moved off slowly, and after
that it continued to make a little steady progress south-
ward.
'We've got into the regular current,' said the Cap-
tain ; ' the same one that carries the big bergs down into
the path of the transatlantic steamers. There's jiope for
us now, if we don't starve.'
" Well, it didn't look so very encouraging, for we had
only food enough for about a week. And for a week we
drifted and drifted on that cake of ice. The supply of
food began to get short. Hank Moore, one of our party,
began to talk sort of wild, and we were afraid he w;is
going to go crazy. Next day the Captain fell sick, and
refused to eat the little bit of a share of food we had for
him. Day after that the other two fellows gave up hope,
and stretched themselves on their backs to wait for the
end. I don't know what was the reason of it, but I
couldn't make up my mind that we were going to perish,
so I kept on my feet, and walked up and down, all the
time watching the horizon for a sign of land or a sail.
Twenty-four hours passed without food, and I began to
feel weak and dizzy. All of a sudden I saw a ship. I
made up my mind I was crazy, for I hadn't seen a sign of
a sail. But the next minute I saw that she had just
come out from behind a berg which had concealed her.
Then I gave a great jump, and called out as loudly as I
could, ' Sail ho!'
"The poor fellows lying on the ice looked at me and
smiled with pity, for they thought I had lost my senses.
But I leaped about and waved my hands, hoping thus to
attract attention aboard the ship, which was not more
than a mile and a half away. The next instant I saw
her swing her foreyard and alter her course.
" 'Hurrah !' I yelled; ' we're saved.'
"Then I fell in a swoon. When I came to we were
all aboard the whaler Andrew Jackson, homeward bound.
And that was the end of all the arctic experience I ever
want."
THE WEARY WOODEN SOLDIER.
BY THKO BERNARD.
MY wooden head is cracked across,
I've lost my youthful charms;
I've lost, alack, one wooden leg,
And both my wooden, arms.
Full many a light have I be.en in
"f \vixt Fred aucl brother Hugh;
I've been officer and private
(I've been ammunition, too).
I've been used to poke the fire with;
I've been (lipped into the ink ;
And I've made a perilous journey
Adowu the kitchen sink.
I've been drowned, and I've lircn married:
I've been buried, and dug up;
I've been "worried" round the garden
By that seven months' old pup.
In short, this mortal life is such
That, though I'm truly bravi-.
I long, with all my wooden heart.
For just a (piiet grave.
444
HAptPEB'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
ukwo.
m
AUTHOR OF
BY WILLIAM HAMILTON GIBSON,
'HIGHWAYS AND P.TWAYS." "SiiAr.r EYES," "PASTELS AND
PKOSK." ETC.
TiHE dusty puff- ball, floating; its faint, trail of smoke in
the breeze from the ragged flue at its dome-shaped
roof as from an elfin tepee, or perhaps enveloping our
feet in its dense purple cloud as we chance to step upon
it in the path, is familiar to every one — always enthu-
siastically welcomed by the small boy, to whom it is
always a challenge for a kick, and a consequent demon-
stration of smoke worthy of a Fourth -of-July celebra-
tion.
A week ago this glistening gray bag, so free with its
dust-puff at the slightest touch, was solid in substance
and as white as cottage cheese in the fracture.
But in a later stage this clear white fracture would
have appeared speckled or peppered with gray spots, and
the next day entirely gray and much softened, and, later
again, brown and apparently in a state of decay. But
this is not decay. This moist brown mass
becomes powdery by evaporation, and the
puff-ball is now ripe, and intent only on pos
terity.
Each successive squeeze as we hold it be-
tween our fingers yields its generous re-
sponse in a puff of brown smoke, which
melts away apparently into air. But the
puff-ball does not end in mere smoke. This
vanishing purple cloud is composed of tiny
atoms, so extremely minute as to require
the aid of a powerful microscope to reveal
their shapes. Each one of these atoms, so
immaterial and buoyant as to be almost
without gravity, floating away upon the
slightest breath, or even wafted upward by
currents of warm air from the heated earth,
has within itself the power of reproducing
another clump of puff-balls if only fortune
shall finally lodge it in congenial soil.
These spores are thus analogous to the
seeds of ordinary plants. We have seen
the myriad-fold dispersion of its poten-
tial atoms in the cloud of spore -smoke from the puff-
ball, but who ever thinks'of a spore-cloud from a mush-
room or a toadstool? ,Yet the same method is followed
by all the other fungi, but with less conspicuousness.
Tin1 puff-ball gives a visible salute, but any one of the
common mushrooms or toadstools will afford us a much
prettier and more surprising account of itself if we but give
it the opportunity. This big yellow toadstool out under
the poplar-tree, .its golden cap studded with brownish
scurfy warts, its under surface beset with closely plaited
laminae or gills, who could ever associate the cloud of
dry smoke with this moist, creamy-white surface? We
may sit here all day and watch it closely, but we shall see
110 sign of anything resembling smoke or dust. But even
so, a filmy mist is continually floating away from beneath
its golden cap, the eager breeze taking such jealous care
of the continual shower that our eyes fail to perceive a
hint of it.
Do you doubt it? You need wait but a few moments
for a proof of the fact in a pretty experiment,
which, when once observed, will certainly be
resorted to as a frequent pastime in leisure mo-
ments when the toadstool or mushroom is at
hand.
Here is a very ordinary- looking specimen
growing beside the stone steps at our back door
perhaps. Its top is gray; its gills beneath are
fawn-color. We may shake it as rudely as we
will, and yet we shall get no response such as
the puff-ball will give us. But let us lay it upon
a piece of- while paper, gills downward, on ihe
mantel, and cover it with a tumbler or finger-
bowl, so as to absolutely exclude the least ad-
mission of air. At the expiration of five min-
utes, perhaps, we may detect a filmy pinkish - yellow
tint on the paper, following beneath the upraised
border of the cap, like a shadow faintly lined with
white. In a quarter of an hour the tinted deposit
is perceptible across the room ; and in an hour, if
we carefully raise the mushroom, the perfect spore-
print is revealed in all its beauty— a pink-brown disk
with a white centre, which represents the point of contact
of the cut stem, and white radiating lines, representing
the edges of the thin gills, many of them as fine and deli-
cate as a cobweb.
Every fresh species will yield its surprise in the mark-
ings and color of the prints.
These spore-deposits are of course fugitive, and will
easily rub off at the slightest touch. But inasmuch as
many of these specimens, either from their beauty of
SPORE SURFACE OF A POLYPORUS.
SPORE SURFACE OF A POLTGARIC.
AP1UL 23, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
445
METHOD OF MAKING SPORE-PRINTS.
form or exquisite
color, or for edu-
cational or scien-
tific purposes, it
will be desirable
to preserve, I ap-
pend simple rules
for the making of the prints by a process by which
they will become effectually " fixed, "and thus easily kept
without injury.
DIRECTIONS FOB MAKING A MUSHROOM SPORE-PRINT.
Take a piece of smooth white writing-paper and coat
its surface evenly with a thin solution of gum-arabic, dex-
trine, or other mucilage, and allow it to dry. Pin this,
gummed side uppermost, to a board or table, preferably
over a soft cloth, so that it will lie perfectly flat. To in-
sure a good print the mushroom specimen should be fresh
and firm, and the gills or spore-surface free from breaks
or bruises.
Cut the stem off about level with the gills, then
lay the mushroom, spore -surface downward, upon the
paper, and cover with a tumbler, finger-bowl, or other
vessel with a smooth even rim, to absolutely exclude the
slightest ingress of air.
After a few hours have passed by, perhaps even less,
the spores will be seen through the glass on the paper
at the extreme edge of the mushroom, their depth of color
indicating the density of the deposit. If we now gently
lift the glass, and with the utmost care remove the fungus,
perhaps by the aid of pins previously inserted, in a per-
fectly vertical direction, without the slightest side motion,
the spore-print in all its beauty will be revealed — per-
haps a rich brown circular patch with exquisite radiating
white lines, marking the direction and edges of the gills,
if an Agaric ; perhaps a delicate pink, more or less
clouded disk, here and there distinctly and finely honey-
combed with white lines, indicating that our specimen
is one of the polypores,, as a Boletus. Other prints
will yield rich golden disks, and there will be prints of
red, lilac, greens, oranges, salmon-pinks, and browns and
purples, variously lined in accordance with the number
and nature of the gills or pores. Occasionally we shall
look in vain for our print, which may signify that our
specimen had already scattered its spores ere we had
found it, or, what is more likely, that the
spores are invisible upon the paper, owing
to their whiteness, in which case a piece of
black paper must be substituted for the white
ground, when the response will be beatitiful-
- ly manifest in a white tracery upon the black
background. One of these, from the Amanita
muscarius, is reproduced in our illustration. If
the specimen is left too long, the spore-deposit
is continued upward between the gills, and may
reach a quarter of an inch in height, in which
case, if extreme care in lifting the cap is used,
we observe a very realistic counterfeit of the
gills of the mushroom in high relief upon the pa-
per. A print of this kind is of course very
fragile, and must be handled with care. But a
comparatively slight deposit of the spores, with-
out apparent thickness, will give us the most per-
fect print, while at the same time yielding the
full color. Such a print may also be fixed by
our present method so as to withstand consider-
able rough handling, all that is required being
to lay the print upon a wet towel until the
moisture has penetrated through the paper and
reached the gum. The spores are thus set, and,
upon drying the paper, are quite securely iix-
ed. Indeed, the moisture often exuded by the
confined fungus beneath the glass proves sufficient to
dampen the mucilage and set the spores.
A number of prints may be obtained from a single
specimen.
To those of my readers interested in the science of this
spore-shower I give sectional illustrations of examples of
the two more common groups of mushrooms — the Agaric,
or gilled mushroom, and the Polyporus, or tube-bearing
mushroom. The entire surface of both gills and pores is
lined with the spore-bearing membrane, or hymenium,
the spores falling directly benealh their point of de-
parture as indicated; in the case of the Agaric, in radi-
SrORE-PHINT OP A BOLETUS
ating lines in correspondence with the spaces between the
gills, and in Polyporus in a tiny pile directly beneath the
opening of each pore.
446
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
JOSHUA BARNEY, U. S. N.
records of the United States navy show no more
dashing officer than Joshua Barney. The life of this
celebrated naval hero reads like a romance, and if it were
not that the particulars of his youthful career are to be
found in the most authentic journals, one would be justi-
fied in refusing to accept the sensational accounts of his
exploits. The known details of his startling and event-
ful history belong not only to this country, but to nations
across the sea. He was born in Baltimore, Maryland, in
1759. At the age of twelve years lie left school and went
to sea as an apprentice with his brother-in-law, who com-
manded a vessel in the Liverpool trade. Two yeai-s later
Barney was promoted to second mate, and when fifteen
and a half years of age was given command of the vessel
in which he had shipped less than four years before as
cabin boy. He made a voyage to Italy as master mari-
ner, and upon his return to Baltimore learned that a
revolution had begun against the parent country. At
once surrendering the command of his ship, he made an
offer of his services to the colonies, and was appointed a
master's mate in the young navy. Ordered to the sloop
Hornet, lie joined the squadron of Commodore Hopkins,
which sailed to the Bahamas and captured New Provi-
dence.
Upon his return a few weeks later, being then only
sixteen years of age, he received a lieutenant's commis-
sion, and served as executive officer of the Andrew Doria
when she captured the British man-of-war Racehorse,
after which he was ordered to the frigate Virginia as
first lieutenant.
This unfortunate ship ran aground at the entrance of
the Chesapeake, while attempting to get to sea through
the English blockading fleet, and although everything
was done by the crew to get her afloat, even while the
enemy's vessels were pouring a murderous fire into them,
they were at length compelled to surrender to the St.
Albans frigate, and with five hundred other prisoners
were sent to New York, where they were confined in one
of the prison ships. While on the passage Barney formed
a plan to capture the vessel by a general uprising, and
would have succeeded in his daring scheme had it not
been betrayed by one of their own number, a renegade
Frenchman.
Our hero was quickhy exchanged, and went to sea again
second in command of the United States sloop of war
Saratoga of sixteen guns. A few days after sailing, an
English cruiser, mounting twelve heavy guns, was cap-
tured in an action lasting only twelve minutes. The next
morning a thirty-two gun frigate and two brigs of war
were discovered cruising in company. The Saratoga
was laid alongside the frigate, which was carried by
boarding: after which the two brigs were quickly forced
to surrender.
Lieutenant Barney was sent on board of the frigate as
prize-master, and accompanied by the Saratoga and the
•other three prizes shaped the course for Baltimore. A
thick fog shut in during the day. When it rolled. a way
with the rising of the sun on the following morning, the
little squadron was found to be surrounded by the Eng-
lish admiral's ship of seventy-four guns and a number of
powerful frigates. Although an obstinate resistance was
made, the three prize brigs were recaptured, and the
Saratoga only escaped a like fate by outsailing the ves-
sels in her vicinity.
While Barney continued to fight his ship with the
slender prize crew that he commanded, the prisoners
came rushing up from below, with the idea of retaking
their vessel, but the boy captain shot the foremost, and
drove the remainder to the guns, compelling them at the
point of the pistol to work the battery against their own
This desperate valor prolonged the fight for a
short time, but being so crippled that he could not ma-
noeuvre liis vessel, Barney was taken prisoner by a strong
boarding party, and sent to England, where he was con-
fined in Mill Prison.
One day while on the voyage across the Atlantic, Bar-
ney was taking his allotted exercise up and down the
spar deck. One of the English officers in passing ad-
dressed an insulting remark to the prisoner, who' respond-
ed in language equally impolite. At this the frigate's
officer became so enraged that he struck Barney across
the mouth, and the following moment received two or
• three disfiguring cuffs from the hardy fists of the Ameri-
can, who added insult to injury by kicking the English-
man down a hatchway. Smarting under this mortifying
treatment, the British officer asked that the offender
might be adequately punished for " outraging his Maj-
esty's uniform." To the everlasting honor of the Capluin,
he stigmatized the conduct exhibited towards a helpless
prisoner as cowardly and disgraceful, and ordered his
officer to make an immediate apology to Lieutenant
Barney.
Bolts and bars could not hold this daring youth, and
lie soon escaped from prison and made his way back to
America. Congress at once commissioned him a full
captain in the navy, and gave him command of the Hyder
Ali, in which he sailed from Philadelphia. The follow-
ing week he fell in with the English man-of-war General
Monk, of twenty guns and 136 men, representing nearly
double the metal and force under Barney's command.
In twenty-six minutes from the time the first gun was
fired the British flag came down.
In recognition of this service Congress promoted him
to the rank of Commodore, and the State of Pennsylvania
presented to the hero a gold-hilted sword. After perform-
ing a secret mission to the West Indies, he was sent to
France as the bearer of despatches to Dr. Franklin, and
when the preliminary treaty of peace with England was
signed, Commodore Barney, then twenty-three years of
age, was appointed to deliver it to Congress.
OFF WITH THE MERBOY.
BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.
CH APTE U I.
IT was a strange thing for the goldfish to do, but the goldfish
did it, nevertheless. He winked at Jimmieboy, and asked
him if he owned a bathing-suit.
"Yes, I do own a bathing-suit," Jimmieboy replied, as soon as
he had recovered from his astonishment that the goldfish
should speak to him. " I own two bathing-suits — a red one and
a blue one."
"You are a, very fortunate boy," said the goldfish. "Two
whole bathing-suits! Dear me, what richness! Do you tiud
that two fit yon better than one?"
" I don't know what yon mean, "said Jimmieboy.
"You must he feeling a little dull," retorted the fish. " It is
plain enough, I think, that if one bathing-suit h'ts you well, and
another bathing-suit tits you well, the two together ought to
fit you twice as well. Do they ?"
• "I can't tell," said Jimmieboy. "I never had a chance to
find out."
"Then you never wore 'em both at once?" asked the gold-
fish.
" Of course not," said Jiinmiehoy, with a laugh at the absurd-
ity of the idea. " Why should I f"
" You'll have to ask me an easier one," returned the goldfish.
"I'm sure I don't know why you should; but then there's no-
thing very strauge about that, for there are a number of things
thai. I don't know.
"I never knew why blackberries
Are green when they are red.
I never understood how se«s
Could rest so calmly at their ease
With so much sand in bed.
APKIL 23, 1895.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
447
"I never knew what use are horns
To mooly cows and goats.
I don't know whv the rose has thorns,
Or why the sailor bold so scorns
Sucli craft as gravy-boats.
" Indeed, I cannot well deny
That there are, on the land
As well as on the seas, things I,
No matter hmv much I may try,
Could never understand."
"I'm kind of tbat way myself," said Jimmieboy, leaning over
the side of the aquarium and gazing down into the cool watery
rest ing-place of the goldfish. " And the worst part; of it is that.
my father, who knows most things — or used to did — is getting
forgetful, and can't tell me half what I want to know. I was
wondering tlue other day if beds creaked at night because they
were tired of never lying down, and he said he guessed so. I
could have guessed so myself."
"That was just his way of nutting yon off," said the goldfish.
" Well, he puts me off a great deal nowadays," said .Tiinmie-
boy, sadly, " though there was a time when he could explain
everything. Why, he couldn't even tell me last night if win-
dows looked out of themselves; and when I asked him what
part of the ocean you came from he told me flat as could be that
lie didn't know."
" He ought to have known that." said the goldfish. " I didn't
come from any part of it. I was born in a gold-mine."
"Ever been in the ocean ?" asked Jitmnifbov, eagerly.
" Yes, several times. My uncle, the sword-fish, lives there,
and I've had plenty of invitations to go. I don't accept very
often, though," said the fish.
"Why not?" asked Jimmiehoy.
"I don't care about going alone, for one reason," said the
goldfish ; "and then I haven't a bathing-suit, for another, so I
can't. I don't want to go into the ocean in these clothes I have
on. I'd get 'em wet, you know."
"Ho!" ejaculated Jimmieboy, with a smile of amusement.
"You're pretty well soaked through now."
"No, I'm not," snapped the goldfish. "This place isn't wet —
that is, it isn't anything like as wet as the ocean. How could it
be ? The ocean is several miles bigger than this, and of course
is just so much wetter."
" Why," said Jimmieboy, in amazement, "is a pail of water
any wetter than a drop of water?"
"Why not?" asked the goldfish. "Try it, and see. Get a
drop of water anil spill it on the floor, and then get a pailful
and spill it on another floor, and then see which floor is the
wettest. You think you are a white hoy, but yon are not.
You're the greenest boy I know, and I've half a mind not to
borrow your extra bathing-suit."
"I'm only alittle boy, "said Jimmieboy, apologetically, "and
of course there are lots of things I've got to learn, so don't be
cross with me."
"All right," said the fish, good-naturedly, "I won't; and I'll
borrow your bathing-suit to wear when I visit my uncle in the
nrfaii, if you'll lend it to me."
" I'll let you have it," said Jimmieboy. " That is, I will if —
Here he hesitated. The idea had just entered his head that
he'd rather like to go off with the goldfish on his visit. The
ocean had always possessed a great charm for him. and often
when he was at the sea-shore he wondered what it was like
down underneath the surging waters. His papa had tried to
tell him all about it, but when pressed to say if he really knew
that what he was saying was true or only story-telling, he had
admitted that it was only story-telling, because he had never
been under the sea himself.
"If what?" asked the goldfish, eying Jimmieboy closely.
" You don't want me to chip off one of 'my gold scales to pay you
for the suit, do you 1 If yon do, you might as well stop wanting
that at once, for I shall never do it. It would be extravagance
to pay gold for a thing I could get down on the sea-coast for*
silver'."
"No," said Jimmieboy. "I don't want any pay — I only
thought perhaps I'd like to go with yon, and I was going to say
that if yon would take me along I'd let you have the suit."
"That would be fine," said the goldfish, smiling so broadly
that Jimmieboy expected to see all the water in the aquarium
disappear down his throat. "You know I said I didn't want to
go alone. It always makes me blue to go alone, and when I
get blue it's very dangerous for me."
" Why so?" queried Jimmieboy.
"Why? Because," said the goldfish — "because your papa
would have me baked for Sunday breakfast the minute I turned
into a blucfish. People eat bluefish, but never touch goldfish
See I"
" Yes," Jimmieboy answered. " I remember now. It was only
vrsl.-rday papa told my mamma why didn't she have some
baked bluefish for breakfast, because that was what he was
hungry for."
The goldfish shuddered.
" I'm glad you told me," he said. "I've been feeling a little
blue lately, and I mustn't give way to it, or perhaps I'll be baked
yet." Here he paused, and thought deeply for a minute, and
then his face brightened upas he said: "But I won't be blue
while you are with me, Jimmieboy, so trot out the bathing-suits
and let's have a look at 'em. If they are all right we cau start
along at once."
So Jimmieboy. rushed to the attic, where his bathing-suits
were packed away until it should come time for him and his
father and mother and brothers to go to the sea-shore again,
and after rummaging about in the trunks for some time he final-
ly found what he wanted.
" Here they are!" he cried, breathlessly ; for he was very much
excited as he thought over the prospect of the trip beneath the
water. "They're in first-class shape."
"I hope they haven't any holes in 'em anywhere," said the
goldfish, anxiously. "It would be horrible if after ne got out
into the middle of the ocean we found that our suits leaked."
Jimmieboy gazed searchingly into the eyes of the goldfish for
nearly a minute to see if he were not joking when he spoke
about leaks in bathing-suits — it seemed such a very droll idea —
but the curious creature gave no sigu of being anything else
than serious.
" Never heard of leaks in bathing-suits," said Jimmieboy.
"I guess yon never heard of a great many things," retorted
the goldfish. "But that doesn't prove anything. Of course it's
a bad thing to have a leak in a bathing-suit. The water'd get
right in on you if it had a leak in it; and what would be even
more dangerous, you might. leak through, yourself. Suppose you
were in swimming and your arm should leak through a hole you
had forgotten to sew up, where would yon be?"
"I haven't an idea, "said Jimmieboy.
" Yon'd be in the water, that's where, and one arm gone,"
snapped the fish.
" I don't quite see," said Jimmieboy. " Where would the arm
be gone to?"
"Through the hole in your bathing-suit, of course," said the
fish: "and then — well, I hesitate to think what would become
of yon then. But a boy in swimming with only one arm hasn't
much chance, unless it's low tide and he has a rope about his
waist."
"Well, anyhow," said Jimmieboy, inspecting the bathing-
suits very carefully, " nothing cau happen to us that way, be-
rausr there isn't a leak in cither of these suits. Which '11 you
have, the blue or the red ?"
" Which is the larger of the two ?" asked the goldfish. " I'll
have whichever one is the larger."
"Humph!" said Jimmieboy. "Why do yon do that? They're
both of 'em miles and miles too big for you."
"I know that — but I cau make 'em fit easy enough."
" I can't let. yon cut them up, you know," said the boy.
•'Mamma wouldn't like that."
"Who's going to cut 'em up? I'm not," returned the fish.
"That would take a year. I'm going to suialleu mine up by
shrinking it, and I want the biggest one, because, being the big-
gest, it has more room to shrink. See?"
"How shrink?" queried Jimmieboy, who could not quite
comprehend.
"Why, they're made of flannel, those suits are, and flannel
shrinks like everything every time y.ou get it wet. Do you
know what shrinking is?"
" No, I don't," said Jimmiehoy. " What is it ?"
"Smallening up," said the fish. "Yon put a yard of flannel
in water, and then take it out and let it dry, and the chanc'c?
are it '11 only be half a yard inside of a week. I put a No. 41
bathing-suit in the water and then dry it, and it becomes a No.
36. So I'll keep on wetting it and drying it until it's my M/<-.''
" Is all this really and truly true ?" asked Jimmieboy.
" Well, rather! Where have you been brought up, not to know
things like that?" said the goldfish, scornfully. "I thought
everybody knew about such simple things. Why, I know a man
who had a beautiful flannel coat once that lilted him just to
perfection until he had it washed, and it shrunk so he could
448
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
VOLUME XVI.
"Ob, you won't, be — there's no daiiger at all if yon know bow
to manage a suit," said the fish. " I'd just as leave let a baby
play with a bathing-suit. They aren't dangerous unless yon
are foolish with them. But I say, are yon most ready. to start?"
•' I'll go at any time you say," said Jimmieboy, starting up.
"All right. Knn into the other room aud put ou your suit,
and come back just as quickly as you can. It has been a beauti-
ful day, and I guess it's about as fine a time to visit the ocean
as we shall ever have."
[TO BE CONTISCKD.]
A WISH.
"I WISHT I was a hired man,"
Said little Tommy, "I'm
So fond of playing' wid the hose
Free-quarters of my time."
"TOMMY," .said the teacher, "you are a very good boy. Yon
haven't missed a day at school this term. You never play sick
ou school-din s, 1 know."
" No. ma'am," returned Tommy. " I never did that but once,
and I'll never do it again, because, while I ain't very fond of
school, I like it a great sight better'n I do castor oil."
WHY HE DID IT.
"JOHNNY, Johnny, do keep quiet. You're talking all the
time.''
"I knows dat, Papa. I wants to learn how. I's (less pwac-
tisiu'."
THE GOLDFISH WINKED.
hardly get into it. Then he gave it to his wife, and it fitted her
just right, until she by accident let it drop into the lake cue day,
where it got soaked again. When it was dried she tried to put
it on, and couldn't, but it proved to be the right size for the
baby, so the baby wore it. Orders were given not to put it iu
the wash ever again, but to clean it when necessary in other
ways. Unfortunately the baby and bis nurse got caught out in
a raiu-storm one afternoon, aud that settled the jacket. It got
simply dripping, aud shrunk up so small it wouldn't even fit the
baby's doll."
"Audtheu what became of it?" asked Jimmieboy, his interest
very much aroused.
"The man it was made for used it as a pen-wiper for three
years, and then one night somebody carelessly upset a glass of
ice-water on it, aud it just faded right out of sight," said the
fish, scratching his chiu with his left fin. " Queer, wasn't it ?':
" Yes," said Jimmieboy. " Very. I should think maybe flan-
nel might be dangerous to wear if sometime you had it on when
it was sopping wet, and weren't able to take it off until it had
shrunk up. It might squeeze you to death."
" Well, that all depends on the flannel," said the fish. " If it's
awfully strong flannel you've got to be careful of it. I knew a
bathing-master ouce who wore his bathing-suit all the time;
and of "course, so that it would wear well, he had it made of the
strongest rlanuel he could get. He used to dash into the water
for a minute, and then he'd come out and sit on the sand to dry.
Then he'd dash in again and romp in the waves for a while,
always sitting ou the sand to dry right afterwards. He'd do
that fifty times a day, and finally he mysteriously disappeared.
Some people said he'd run away, and maybe he did — but I have
my own notion as to what became of him."
'"What is it?" asked Jimmieboy. "Do you think he was
drowned?"
"I do not," said the fish. "I think that flanuel suit just
shrank out of existence with him in it."
"I don't think I'll wear flannel," said Jimmieboy, as he
thought over the possible fate of the bathing- master. " I don't
want to be disappeared with."
HARD TO UNDERSTAND.
"I DON'T understand it very well, "said Walter, after strug-
gling for a long time with his father's pencil. "There's lots of
writing left in this pencil, but I can't get it out; it only makes
marks."
TO SATISFY HIS CUIilOSlTY.
"WHAT are you doing on the bureau, Tommie ?"
•• Standiu' before the lookin'-glass," said Touimie.
to see how I'd look 'f I was twins."
Wanted
A GREAT SAVING.
"I SAVED five cents to-day," said Bobbie.
•• That's good," said his grandma. " Where is it ?"
"I ha\en't got it," said Bobbie. "That's how I saved it.
I'd had it I'd ha' spent it."
If
AN ADVANTAGE.
" WISH I was twins," said Jimmieboy.
two pieces of pie."
' Theu I could have
THE MOON.
SOME say the moon is made of cheese,
But why I cannot see.
It looks a wondrous lot more like
A big poached egg to me.
NOT SETTLED.
"ARE you going to college when yon grow up, Johnnie?"
"Course."
"What college do you think you'll go to?"
" I dunno. I don't spect to go for ten years yet, and of course
I can't tell which 'ill hold the football championship then."
BOBBIE is learning to read and spell by the phonetic method
— that is, he is guided by the sounds of the various letters.
For instance, in reading " Cat" he says, " Kuh-au-tuh " — which
is a v«ry good way, but it was not accepted as an excuse by his
teacher, when, being told to write goat ou the blackboard, he
said, " Guh-ate," aud wrote G 8.
NOT ALWAYS A GOOD THING.
" I DON'T fink it's dood for me to take a baft"," said Mollie to
her mother. " I dave my dollie a baff de ovver day an' it's took
all the pink out of her cheeks."
HARPERS
ROUND TABLE
\3Jf\
• '..[.jri-lit, isn.i, by HARPKU A BKOTHKRS. All Ri-hts Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 8oQ.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, APRIL 30, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO nOT.LAlIS A YEAH.
I
HEROES OF AHERICA.
THE BATTLE OF XE\V ORLEANS.
BY HONORABLE THEODORE ROOSEVELT.
HEX ill 1814 Napoleon \vns over-
thrown ;iml exiledtoElba,theBrit-
ish troops that had followed Wel-
lington into southern France were
left free for use against the Amer-
icans. A great expedition was or-
ganized to attack and capture New
Orleans. and at its head was placed
General Pakenham, the brilliant
commander of the column that
delivered the fatal blow at Sala-
manca. In December a great fleet of British war-ships and
transports, carrying thousands of victorious veterans from
the Peninsula, and manned by sailors who had grown old
in a quarter of century's ocean warfare, anchored oft' the
great lagoons of the Mississippi Delta. The few American
gunboats were carried after a desperate hand-to-hand
struggle, the troops were landed, and on the 23d of De-
cember the advance-guard of two thousand men reached
1he banks of the Mississippi, but ten miles below New
Orleans, and there camped for the night.
It seemed as if nothing could save the Creole City from
foes -who had shown in the storming of many a Spanish
walled town that they were as ruthless in victory .-is they
were terrible in battle. There were no forts to ].r. >(.•.•! I In'
place, and the militia were ill armed and ill trained. But
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
IMPORTANT NOTICE.
TO THE READERS OF "HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE."
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE? We imagine how
puzzled and surprised a great throng of you are
when your favorite HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE sud-
denly puts on a new dress and wears a new name.
Yet it is the very same paper which has been your
favorite ever since you first read it— the same, except
that it has taken on some additional features of in-
terest, and will he more pleasing to you than ever.
Of course you wish to know why a change has
been made, and what the Editor means to give you
in the ROUND TABLE which will make up for the
disappearance of YOUNG PEOPLE. The ROUND TABLE
•will be so big and bright that it will accommodate
more young people than you can count — all, in fact,
who belong to the wonderful Order you all love.
Listen to our programme for the future:
Serial stories by our best authors, short, timely, and
entertaining articles, and the regular departments
will be continued. You will find that not one of the
attractions is omitted. The only alteration in the
periodical, beyond the title and make-up, is to be
found in the additional departments. Something
new has been added which is sure to interest every-
body.
Part of this addition is the athletic department,
entitled Intel-scholastic Sport. This department is
to be conducted by "The Graduate." who is an ex-
perienced writer and student of scholastic athletics,
and who', while following the course of school ath-
letics all over the United States, will give you many
valuable suggestions on physical training. Another
part of this addition, which will be sure to please
YOU just now especially, is a department on Bi-
cycling, which will contain charts and maps show-
ing pleasant bicycle trips in or near the large cities
of the United States. This department will be under
the editorship of an expert wheeler, who will have
the assistance of the officers of the League of Amer-
ican Wheelmen. Besides these features the type
will be changed so that about two hundred words
will be added to each page of the paper, thus in-
creasing the amount of letter-press by nearly one-
fourth. You will now receive nearly one-quarter
again as much reading matter as heretofore for the
same amount of money. You will approve of this,
we know.
But why give the paper another name? Because
the Order of the Round Table, founded by HARPER'S
Ym'NG PEOPLE four years ago, has grown to such
enormous proportions, has spread so far and wide,
lias gone into so many corners of the States of the
Union, and European countries as well, that it de-
mands some definite recognition as one of the largest
organizations of its kind in the world. But the title
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE means something more than
this. It not only acknowledges the growth, the
power, and the interest of the Order of the Round
Table, but it is the journal which goes into the home
of its readers as they sit about the family ''round
table " of an evening. It brings with it reading of
interest to the children and to the young men and
women of the family, as well as to the parents; and
its purpose is to introduce and maintain in the family
of this nineteenth century some of the manly quali-
ties, some of the chivalry, honesty, and uprightness
which have made the Table Round of King Arthur
so famous in history. HARPER'S ROUND TABLE re-
presents the chivalry of brother to sister and sister to
brother, children to parents and parents to children,
in this present day. It maintains that all the good
qualities of King Arthur's Order are equally appli-
cable and necessary in the family circle of to-day,
and it purposes to stand for them week by week.
The ROUND TABLE, therefore, is not only the title of
a great organization of young Americans, but it also
stands for a periodical which should be a welcome
visitor in every family circle. Its readers will find
in its pages amusement, interest, instruclion, as well
as suggestions of what courtesy and courage mean,
and what they can accomplish. HARPER'S ROUND
TABLE is HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE in a larger form.
with its field broadened and its interest increased.
You will endorse this change, not only for itself,
but because it also furnishes you with more reading
matter than was promised you \vhen you subscribed
for HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
HEROES OF AMERICA.
(Continued from front ii/;,c.)
the hour found the man. On tin- iifn-rnoon of the very
day when the British reached the banks of the river the
.vanguard of Andrew Jackson's Tennessceans marched into
New Orleans. Clad in hunting-shirts of buckskin or home-
spun, wearing wolf-skin and coon-skin caps, and carrying
their long rifles on their shoulders, the wild soldiery of tin-
backwoods tramped into the little French town. They
were tall men, with sinewy frames and piercing eves.
Under "Old Hickory's" lead they had won the bloody
battle of the Hoiscsl Bend against the Creeks; they
had driven tin- Spaniards from Pcnsacnla : and now tliey
were eager to pit them-i-hes against the most renowned
troops of all Europe.
Jackson acted with his usual tiery, hasty decision. It
was absolutely net-ssary to get time in which to Ihrow up
some kind of' breastworks or defences tin- the city, and lie
at once resolved r.,i a night attack against the Bntish. As
for the P.ritish. ihey had no thought of being molested.
They did not dream of an assault from inferior numbers of
undisciplined and ill-armed militia, who did not possess so
much as bayonets to their gnus. They kindled tires along
the levees, ate their supper, and then, as the evening fell,
noticed a big schooner drop down the river in ghostly si-
lence and bring np opposite to them. The soldiers flocked
to the shore, challenging the. stranger, and finally tired one
or two shots at her. Then suddenly a rough voice was
heard exclaiming, "Now give it to them, for the honor of
America." and a shower of shell and grape fell on the
British, driving them off the- le\ec. The stranger was an
American man-of-war schooner. The British brought np
artillery to drive her off, lint before they succeeded Jack-
son's land troops burst upon them, and a tierce, indecisive
struggle followed. In the night all order was speedily lost,
and The two sides fought singly or in groups in the utmost
confusion. Finally a fog came np, and the combatants
separated. Jackson drew off four or five miles and camped.
The British had been so roughly handled thai they were
unable to advance for three or four days, until the entire
army came np. When they did advance it was only to liml
that Jackson had made good use of the time he had gained
by his daring assault. He had thrown np breastworks of
nind and logs from the swamp to the river. At li'-st the
Mritish tried to battei clown these breastworks with their
cannon, for they bad many more gnus than the Americans.
A terrible artillery duel followed. For an hour or two the
result seemed in doubt; but the American gunners showed
themselves to be far more skilful than their antagonists,
and gradually getting the upper hand, they finally silenced
every piece of liritish artillery. The Americans had used
colton bales in the embrasures, and the I'.rilisli hogsheads
of sugar, but neither worked well, for the cotton caught
450
HAMPER'S ROUND TABLE
HIT. and the sugar hogsheads were ripped and splintered
li.v the round shot, so that both were abandoned. By the
use of red-hot slmt the British succeeded in setting' lire to
the American schooner which had caused them such annoy-
ance on the evening of the night attack; but she had
served her purpose, and her destruction caused little anxiel y
to .l.ickson.
Having failed in his effort, to batter down the American
breastworks, and the British artillery having been fairly
worsted by the American, I'akenliani decided to try an open
assault. He had ten thousand regular troops, while Jack-
son had under him but little over rive thousand men. who
were trained only as he had himself trained them in his
Indian campaigns. Not, a fourth of them carried bayonets.
Both 1'akenham and the troops under him were fresh from
victories won over the most renowned marshals of Na-
poleon, and over troops that had proved themselves on a
hundred stricken fields the masters of all others in conti-
nental Europe. At Toulouse they hail driven Marshal
Sonlt from a position infinitely stronger than that held by
Jackson, and yet Sonlt had under him a veteran army. At
Bada.jns, L'indad Kodrigo, and San Sebastian they had car-
ried by open assault walled towns whose strength made
the entrenchments of the Americans seem like mud walls
built by children, though these towns were held by the
best troops of France. With such troops to follow him,
and with such victories behind him in the past, it did not
seem to Pakenham possible that the assault of the terrible
British infantry could be successfully met by rough back-
w is riflemen lighting under a General as wild and un-
trained as themselves.
He decreed that the assault should take place on the
morning of the tfth. Throughout the previous night the
American officers were on the alert, for they could hear the
rumbling of artillery in the British camp, the muffled tread
of the battalions as they were marched to their points in the
line, and all the smothered din of the preparation for as-
sault. Long before dawn the riflemen were awake, and
drawn up behind the mud walls, where they lolled at ease,
or, leaning on their long rifles, peered out through the fog
toward the camp of their foes.
At last the sun rose and the Cog slowly lifted, showing
the glorious array of the scarlet British infantry. As
soon as the, air was clear rakenham gave the word, and
.the heavy columns of red-coated grenadiers and killed
Highlanders veil steadily forward. From the American
breastworks the great guns opened, but not a rille clacked.
Three-fourths of the distauve was covered, and the eager
soldiers broke into a run: then sheets of flame burst from
the breastworks in their front as the wild riflemen of the
backwoods rose and tired, line upon line. Under the sweep-
ing hail the head of the British advance was shattered, and
the whole column stopped. Then it surged forward again
almost to the foot of the breastworks: but not a man lived
to reach them, ami in a moment more the troops broke and
ran back.
.Mad with shame and rage, I'jtkenham rode quickly
among them to rally and lead them forward, aud the officers
sprang around him. smiting the fugitives with their swords,
and cheering on the men who stood. For a moment the
troops halted, and again came forward to the charge; but
again they were met by a hail of bullets from the back-
w Is rifles. One shot struck Pakenham himself. He reel-
ed and fell from the saddle, aud was carried off the field.
The second in command was wounded, and then all attempts
at further advance were abandoned, and the British troops
ran back to their lines. Another assault hail meanwhile
been made by a column close to the river, the charging sol-
diers rushing right up to the top of the breastworks; but
they wen- all killed or driven back. A body of troops had
also been sent across the river, where they routed a small
detachment of Kentucky militia: but they were, of course,
recalled when the main assault failed.
For the tirst time in a quarter of a century the British
soldiers, the men who had conquered the conquerors of Eu-
rope, had met defeat. Andrew Jackson aud his rough rifle-
men had worsted in a fair light a far larger force of the best
of Wellington's veterans, aud had accomplished what no
French marshal aud no French troops had been able to ac-
complish throughout the long war in the Spanish Peninsula.
Fora week the sullen British lay in their lines; then.aban
doning their heavy artillery, they inarched back to the ships
aud sailed again; for Europe.
You 1 1
A CHANGE OF FORTUNE.
"/~VH, the days when I was happy!"
\_f Sighed a pensive little Jappy,
As the crystal tears rolled down and washed the color
from his cheek.
On the table in my study
Sweetly smiling, round, and ruddy,
Many years he had been standing in a china jar unique.
Now, alas! his smile was faded.
His expression worn and jaded.
And his bursting heart found utterance in a woful lam-
entation :
"i ili. that from my proud position,
Highest goal of my ambition.
I should ever stoop to suffer such a sad humiliation!
"Once I was caressed and flattered,
Rich or poor, it little mattered,
and old, from babe to grandsire, every one must
have a 'Jap.'
And alike by tastes a-sthetic,
Grave or humorous or poetic,
I was hailed, and all-triumphant, lived and throve in For-
tune's lap.
'•Then — ah me! — the reigning fashion,
Every artist had a passion
For displaying me in pictures, and the studios were my
own.
Now. to claim their whole attention,
One whom I am loath to mention
Comes, an upstart, a usurper, and ascends my righlful
throne.
"Hard it is my grief to smother,
Bitter thus to see ; iher
Wear my honors! Artists paint him, poets his perfections
praise.
Everywhere his visage hated
Greets me. He is fondled, feted,
Worst of all, he rules the children as did I in other
dav 3.
'•Nevermore shall I be happy,'1
Said the weeping little Jappy,
"Nevermore my days be merry, aud my slumbers soft and
downy.
I shall live, but all unheeded,
Quite cut out and superseded
By that precious, omnipresent pet and paragon, the
.Bruit- it ii- !" MAI:<;AI;KT Junxsox.
OFF WITH THE MERBOY;
BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.
CHAPTER II.
TIIK STAIiT.
IMMIEBOY grabbed up his blue
suit and in a very few minutes was
arrayed in it, but on his return to
the aquarium to join the goldfish
he found it empty.
" Dear me !" he cried. "I wonder
if he can have gone oft" without
me."
"No, he hasn't," came a silvery
voice from behind him.
Jimniieboy turned sharply about,
and there, sitting upon the sofa arrayed in his red bathing-
suit, sat a beautiful boy of about his own age and size, with
great masses of golden hair falling over his shouldeis.
431
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
" Hullo !" said Jinnnicboy, as sooii as he bad recovered
from his surprise. " Who are you ?"
"Iain your goldfish," laughed the boy. " Or, rather, I
was. I am no\v my true self. I am a merboy, as. iu fact,
all goldfish are. See ?" he added, holding up what Jiinmie-
boy had takeii for feet. "I have a tail like a fish iustead
of feet."
Jiiiunieboy was delighted. He had heard all about mer-
men and mermaids, but merboys were something new.
" Now," said the merboy, as a tremendous lashing of
something in the aquarium began to ruffle up the water
therein, " come along. Get into my carriage aud we shall
start."
Mute with astonishment, Jinnnieboy could do nothing
but obey, and entering a huge vehicle that floated upon
the surface of the water iu the aqu'arium — which had, sin-
gularly enough, taken on tremendous proportions — the
merboy ga.ve a whistle, and they were. off. Tlie carriage
had the appearance of a superb shell lined with mother-of-
pearl, and studded all over with the most costly and lus-
trons'jewels, aud soon passing out from the limits of the
aquarium, Jimmieboy found himself bounding over a great
body of water, drawn by a pair of gayly caparisoned dol-
phins, which the smiling merboy guided with two golden
ribbons.
" How do you feel?" asked the merboy, as, after driving
along for several minutes, the travellers passed out of sight
of land.
" First rate," said Jimmieboy. " This is lots of fun."
" I'm glad you find it so," returned the merboy, with a
smile of relief. " I was afraid you were not enjoying your-
self very much. You looked a little anxious. Were you
anxious?"
"Not exactly," replied Jimmieboy. "But it ilid sort of
bother me when I thought of what might happen if this
wagon should upset."
" Don't see anything you need to bother about in that,"
said the merboy, giving the near dolphin a flick with his
whip for shying at a buoy. " It's twice as safe as driving
on land. The land is hard, and if you were thrown out of
a wagon there the chances are you'd be hurt ; but here it
is very different. Falling out here would be like tumbling
iut.o a feather bed. The water is very soft."
"I understand that, of course," said Jimmieboy. with a
smile. " But what I was worrying about chiefly was that
the water here is very deep. It must be two or three times
over my head, and I can't swim. I can only wade."
"What of it ? I don't see anything in that to worry
about," retorted the merboy. "I might just as well get
timid when we are near the shore because I can't wade."
"Wouldn't I be drowned?" asked Jimmieboy.
The look which the ex-goldfish gave Jimmieboy as the
latter said this was one of reproach. He was evidently
deeply hurt by Jimmieboy's remark.
" You aren't a polite boy, I think," he said. " The idea!
Wouldn't you be drowned! Let me ask you a question.
If you were invited out to dinner by a person you knew,
do you think whjle you were sitting at his table you'd go
hunting about in your head for some if that would end in
your starving to death 1 Wouldn't you know that being
invited to eat with that man you'd get your dinner all
right ?"
" Certainly, " said Jimmieboy. " But what has that got
to do with it?"
"Plenty," snapped the merboy. "You are my guest,
and I look after all the details, such as swimming and so
forth, just as your other host would look after all (he de-
tails, such as eating and so forth. If you are going to be a
ecarecat I'll drive right back home again, for I don't like
cats of any kind."
"I'm not afraid," said Jimmieboy. "I trust you,
Jlermy."
"Thank you," said the merboy, dropping one rein to
squeeze Jimmieboy's hand. "Thank you very much. You
will find your confidence is well placed, for as long as you
are with me as my guest you can stand on your head miles
deep iu water without being in any danger of drowning.
Why, if you couldn't, 1 never should have thought of bring-
ing you along, for in a very few minutes we come to a turn
in our road aud then we shall drive down under the water
three miles and a half, and, what is more, you won't even
know you are under water unless I tell you."
So Jimmieboy was reassured on the one point concerning
which he had been a little timid, and he proceeded at once
to enjoy everything he saw. In silence they drove on and
on, and as the ocean was as smooth as glass they covered a
great many miles iu a few minutes. Suddenly the merboy
reined iu bis dolphins with a sharp jerk, which caused the
carriage to stop with such suddenness that Jimmieboy was
nearly thrown out of his scat.
" What's the matter?" cried Jimmieboy. a little alarmed
at this sudden stoppage. " Nothing wrong ?"
"No, "said the merboy, shortly. "But there might have
been. Look ahead of you there."
Jimmieboy did as be was told, and saw in an instant why
the merboy had stopped short. A great big ocean steamer
was ploughing its way through the waves at a tremendous
rate of speed directly across their path.
" Don't you see ?" said the merboy, as the steaming mon-
ster passed on, leaving a great strip of white foam behind
it; " we were nearly run down that. time. It is dreadful
the way these steamers are allowed to ignore the safety of
the rightful occupants of the seas. On laud, when a rail-
road crosses a driveway, they make the trains go over or
, under a road in many places, and where they don't do that,
the\ make them put up fences or bars and station men to
signal people who are driving of the approach of trains.
Out here they are perfectly lawless. They cross our drives
on the level always, and never yet has one of the steamers
whistled or rung a bell to warn a fish to get out of its
way."
" It doesn't seem right, does it ?" said Jimmieboy.
"No, it doesn't," replied the merboy ; " and the meanest
part of it all is the steamship people don't care. If I bad
my way they'd be compelled to feuc£ in their routes all the
way over, and station signal-men iu boats at road crossings
to warn us of impending danger. Why, if it hadn't been
for our own police, police that we have to pay ourselves,
yon and I would have been run down jnst now."
"You don't mean to say you have police out here on the
ocean ?"said Jimmieboy.
" Yes," said the merboy ; " several of 'em. In fact, we
have about a million of 'em altogether. You land people
call 'em porpoises. Kver see a pen poise ?"
"Lots of them," Jimmieboy replied. "They come up
our river sometimes, and papa has told me lots of stories
about them, but he never said they were policemen."
"They aren't police-men," laughed the merboy. " They
are police-fish. What did he ever tell you about them?"
"Oh — well — he said he'd seen schools of them jumping
about in the water when he was crossing the ocean on one
of those big boats," said Jimmieboy ; "aud one of them, he
said, followed his ship for four days one time. The reason
why I remember about it particularly is that he told me,
maybe, if I would be a very good boy, he'd try to get me
one for a pet that I could tie a chain to aud lead around
when we went rowing some time."
The merboy laughed.
" The idea !" he said. " As if a porpoise could be treated
like a poodle! That shows bow little you land people
know about porpoises. Did your father say they went
about iu schools?"
"That's what he told me," said Jimmieboy, meekly.
"Don't they?"
"Humph!" said the merboy. "Don't they! Well, let
me tell you one thing. Don't you ever let a porpoise hear
you say he goes about in schools. Leave schools to min-
nows and moss-bunkers and children. Why, my dear boy,
porpoises know too much to go about in schools. They'd
be much more likely to go about in colleges, if they went iu
anything of the sort. Didn't you ever hear the story of
the Porpoise and the Land-sage?"
" I never did," Jimmieboy answered. " I never heard of
a land-sage either. What is a land-sage?"
" A laud-sage is a creature .like a man. In fact, he is a
man, and he lives on the laud, and thinks he knows every-
452
HARPEE'S ROUND TABLE
thing, when in re-
ality he only knows
laud things."
" But isn't it
good to know laud
things ?" Jimmie--
boy asked.
"Oh yes — in
a way," said the
merboy, patroniz-
ingly. " Bn't just
because you know
laud things doesn't
make yon the
wisest thing in
the world. It's a
great deal better
to know sea things,
because if you
know sea things
you know more
than you do if you
only know laud
things. There's
three times as
much sea as laud
iu the world, and
so, of course, sea-
sages are three
times as wise as
land-sages. What's
more, you who live
ou the land don't
begin to hear of a
half of a. millionth
part of the things that happeu under the sea, while we who
live under the sea can get all the laud news we want by
tapping your Atlantic cable."
" Why, so you can," said Jimmieboy. "I uever thought
of that."
" Of course yon didn't. You haven't got the kind of
mind that thinks that kind of thoughts," sneered the mer-
boy. "You people think you are great when you are able
to sit at your breakfast tables iu New York on Friday
morning and talk about what has happened in Lundou
that same Friday afternoon — and it is rather smart to be
able to do that, I admit — but what do yon know about
what has been going ou in Sealadelphia, or Sharkargo, or
Whalingtou, or Moss-bunkerton ? Not a thing, I'll war-
rant. But these sea creatures know all you know, and all
their own news besides. So, you see, when aland-sage be-
gins swapping knowledge with a sea-sage he finds himself
'way behind."
"And what was the story about the Porpoise and the
Land-sage ?" asked Jimmieboy.
"Well, as I remember it," said the merboy, " it went this
way:
THK PORPOISE AND THE LAND-SAGE.
A Land-sage once, who thought he knew
All that there was to know,
Went out to sea without a crew,
And floated to and fro.
And then, before he was aware
Just what he was about,
A fearful wind did straightway tear
His jib and mainsail out.
"I'm all at sea!" he moaned and cried;
" Oh dear, what shall I do !
Would that I'd never come outside
Without my gallant crew."
Just as he spoke a Porpoise came.
The Land-sage cried, " What, ho !
Where are you from, and what's your name?
Hullo there, you! Hullo!"
"What do you wish?" the Porpoise said
In accents soft and meek.
" I'd like to be at home in bed —
What language do you speak ?"
STARTING OFF.
" Sea-doggerel," the Porpoise then
Made answer with a grin,
"Unless I speak with Englishmen,
And then I speak in Finn."
"Perhaps," the Land-sage then observed,
" You can enlighten me
By telling me — I'm much unnerved —
Just where I chance to be."
"Of course I can," the tish said. "You,
I tliink 'tis very clear,
Are out 'of sight of Manitou
And just about off here."
" Pray do not mock me," quoth the sage ;
"I'm truly badly off,
And 'tis not right one of your age
At one like me should scoff.
I am the most enlightened man
That e'er the world did see;
So help me home, sir, if you can,
And tell me where I be."
" You make me laugh," the Porpoise said.
" Why should you come to me ?
If you've all knowledge in your head,
I truly cannot see
Why you should ask a Porpoise, who
Is ignorant and plain,
What in this instance you should do
To get back home again ?
"But I will tell you what I'll do:
If you will shed some light
Upon a few things — one or two —
I'll get you back all right."
"A bargain!" cried the Land-sage, loud.
" I pray you do begin."
" I will," the Porpoise said, and bowed.
" Why do you wear a chin ?
" Why have you hair upon your head ?
And why do men wear cuffs ?
And why are cannon-crackers red ?
And why is cream in puffs?
Why can't you swim on mountain-tops?
And why is water wet ?
And why don't liens, like lambs, have chops?
And why don't roosters set ?"
453
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Tin' [/.mil-sage paled as to his cheek.
" I cannot say," said lie.
"Then why does Friday come each week?
And whv do maids drink tea?
<lli irll nit- why all kittens mew?
And why do little boys,
When with their daily tasks they're through,
.Make such a dreadful noise?
The Porpoise waited lor the sage
To answer, Imt in vain.
It filled the wise man full of rage
To have to flunk again.
Whereat the I'cirpoise. \\iih a sneer
And very scornful glance,
Remarked: "You're very dull, I fear.
I'll give you one more chance.
"Tell me one thing I never heard
In all my life before,
And I will pass to you my word
To see you safe ashore.
But don't be rash, oh, sage," said he.
"Take all the time you need
To think of what to tell me
That's truly new indeed."
The Land sage thought and thought all day,
lie' thought the long night through,
But not an idea came his way
That he was sure was new ;
And finally, in great de-p;nr,
He thought that he would see
What could be done to ease his care
By simple flattery.
And so he spoke, " Oh, Mr. P ,
Oh, Porpoise, sleek and trim,
Tin' thought has just occurred to me
My wisdom's rather slim ;
But I believe a creature that
'S us beautiful as you
Can't have the heart to let a flat
Like me die in the blue."
" You think me so ?" the Porpoise said.
" I do !" the sage replied.
"You have the purest classic head
I ever have espied.
Your eyes are truly lovely.
And your mouth is full of grace,
And nothing nobler can one see
Than is your noble face."
The Land-sage ceased ; the Porpoise smoled
And winked his eyes of blue.
"You've won, professor. You have told
Me something truly new.
I never heard mv beauty praised
In all my life before."
And then his good right fin he raised
And towed the sage ashore.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
MISS APPOLINA'S CHOICE.
BY AGNES LITTLETON.
Part I-
OUTSIDE, the house was simply one of a long row of
brownstone houses which line many of the Xe\v York
streets, but the room in which Millicent Reid was sitting
this fine spring afternoon hail an individuality of its own.
'• The gills" were Millicent and Joanna Keid.
Millicent was nearly seventeen, and with her cousin Peg-
gy, who lived across the street, .studied with a governess
and various masters, but Joanna, or Joan, as she was fre-
quently called, went to school. At this very moment she
burst into the room, carrying a pile of school books, which
she Hung on the table with a resounding crash.
" It is to be on the :!oth of April, and we are all asked to
send just as much as we can, and Mrs. Pearson said anything
would do, "said Joanna, us she pulled off her gloves.
" Oh, don't, Joan !" exclaimed Millicent, who had a pencil
in her hand, and had hastily thrust a morocco-bound honk
under the sofa pillow when her sister entered. "Yon do
startle me so. What is to be on the :!0th of April .'"
"The fail', of course. Now don't pretend you don't know
anything about it. when the Pearsons have talked of no-
thing else for weeks."
"I have had other things to think of," returned Milli-
cent. with dignity. "For one thing. I am wondering which
of ns three Cousin Appolina will lake \\ilh her to Eng-
land. If she only would choose me ! And then — oh, there
are other things!" And .she nibbled the end of her pencil.
Millicent was Joanna's only sister, and sin- had beautiful
golden hair, large blue, eyes, and poetic tendencies. Joan
was very sun- that the inoioeco-1 d book, of \\ Inch she
had caught a glimpse more than once when it was thrust
away just as it had been this afternoon, contained poems —
actual poems.
Joan gazed at her sister, as she lay back among the big
cushions, with pride and admiration not unmixed with envy.
She would so love to write poetry herself, but next best to
that was having a sister who could do it. She only v\ i-hed
that Milly would let her see something that she had writ-
ten. She could then assure her cousin, Peggy Eeid, with
absolute knowledge of facts, that her sister was a poetess.
Now she could only darkly hint upon the subject, and it
was not altogether satisfactory, for she felt confident that
Peggy did not believe her.
But at present the fair was the all-absorbing topic, and
Joanna returned to the charge. "We shall ha\e to send
something, Milly, for Mrs. Pearson said she depended upon
ns, and it is for such a good object she said she kne\\ u e
would help her all we could. It is to furnish the new chap-
el, you know: to get a lee — lack — luck — something for
them to read the Bible on. What is it, Milly .'"
"A 'lectern, 'I suppose you mean."
"Yes, that's it — • lectern'; and a big I'.ible I < nut on it,
ami lots of Prayer-books and Hymnals to stick around the
church, and some vases for flowers, and a brass cross and
foot-stools, and lots of other things they need. Mrs. Pear-
sou said we must try to send as many fancy articles as we
could to the fair, and try to sell some tickets."
"I have no time to make anything, and besides I don't
do any fancy-work," said Millicent; "and if you don't mind,
Joan, I wish you would go. I am very busy just now."
"Y'ou don't look a hit. busy. What are you doing? No-
fhuig.biit biting a pencil. I wish yon would tell me vi hat
yon were doing when I came, in, Mill."
"If yon only would not call me 'Mill' or 'Milly'! I
simply ill-test it. As long as I have a good name, I do \\ ish
I could be called by it."
"I promise and vow I will always call yon Millicent. full
length, if you will only tell me what you were doing when
I came in."
"I can't. Joan. Do go away. It was — nothing of any
importance."
"Oh. Milly — I mean Millicent — please, yi/iw.sr tell me! I
do so want to know, and I am only your own little sister,
who never did you any harm, ami «ho wants to know so
much. Won't you tell me?"
Joanna had slipped down on the Hour by her sister's side.
One arm she threw across Millicent, the other went under
the sofa, pillow. In a moment the morocco blank-hook was
in her hand. She clutched it tightly. If she only dared
draw it out, run away with it, and read it! Peggy would
have done it without any hesitation whatever, but then
Joanna was not Peggy.
Millicent looked at her pensively. Sympathy is pleasant,
part ieiilarly to a poet, and she felt sure that Joan, if any-
one, would appreciate some of the beauties of her verse.
" I really believe I will," she said at length ; " only, Joan,
I don't want Peggy to know anything about it. Peggy
does laugh so at everything. Not that there is anything
to laugh at in these little poems of mine — for they are real
poems, Joan. Do you know I actually write poetry? Did
you ever have any idea of it?"
"I am not a bit surprised." declared Joan. ''In fact, I
was almost sure of it. I am so glad you an- going to let
me see them. They are in this book, aren't they .' Oh,
Milly — I mean Millicent — think of your being a poetess!
454
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Do hurry ii|>. Shall I read them myself, or will you read
them to me ?"
"I will read them aloud. I ca.u do it. with more expres-
sion, probably, for I know just where to put the emphasis,
and it makes a great difference in poetry. I ofien think
that if 1 could only take them myself to the editors of the
magazines and read the poems to them, they would be more
apt to take them."
"Of course they would, lint do you mean to say. Mil
cent, that you have really sent anything to the magazine*.'
''Certainly I have. I want recognition, but somehow
tliev don't seem to suit."
"'llo\v hateful!" exclaimed Joan, with a sympathy that
warmed her sister's heart. "But do hurry up and read
them. I am dying to hear what you have written."
Miilicenl opened the book and turned over the pages.
She could not quite decide which she should cjioose as her
first selection. Before she had made it, however, there was
a tap at the door, and then, without waiting for a reply, a
tall girl of sixteen came into the room.
Again the morocco-bound book went under the sofa pil-
low, and Joanna could not suppress an exclamation of dis-
appointment.
'•What's the matter? What's lip ?" said their cousin
Pe"".v, glancing quickly from one to the other. " Secrets .'
Now that's not a bit fair, to have secrets from me. I've
got oceans of things to talk about: but, first of all, I met the
postman just as I was coming in. and he gave me this for
you, Mill.' This huge envelope, and addressed in your own
'handwriting. It's awfully mysterious, and I am just
about wild with curiosity. You must tell me what it is.'
A blank look came overMilliceut's face, but she took the
letter and said nothing.
"Oh, come, now, aren't you going to tell us?" continued
Peggy. " I'll never tell."
"Do, Millicent!" urged Joanna. "If it's— if it has cany-
thing to do with what we were talking about when Peggy
came in, you may as well tell. I want Peggy to know-
about it, and I'm sure she would like to hear them too."
"Hear them '! What in the world is it ? Oh, I kuou !
I know!" cried Peggy; "yon have been \\riting and send-
ing things to the magazines! Oh, Milly. <7o show me!"
"jlilliceut looked at her long and doubtfully.
never, never tell ?" she asked at last.
"Never, on my oath !"
"I believe I will tell you, then, for I do think it is the
meanest thing in those editors, and I just want to see what
they have said this time, whether they have answered my
note."
She opened the envelope and drew forth several papers,
one of which appeared to be a printed one.
"No, they haven't. They have just sent the same old
slip they always do, thanking me ever so much for send-
ing the' poems, and it. may not be because they are not
..,md i hat they send them back, but because they have so
many I lungs on hand. Oh dear, I think they might have
answered ii !"
"What did you say in your note?" asked Peggy.
"Oh, I told them that I thought these poems were per-
fectly suited to their magazine, and so they are. And
asked them to tell me of a good place to send them if they
couldn't take them. I do think the man might have had
the politeness to answer my note."
"Well, do let us hear them," put in Peggy, briskly.
am wild to know what they are like."
Millicent again looked at her doubtfully. Bnt in :
moment she took a more upright position on the sofa, and
holding her pretty head a little to one side, she remarked :
"This is a little poem on something which is very ta-
miliar to us, but I like the idea of idealizing familiar
things." Then she paused. "Oh, I don't believe ]
read it, after all," she said, in au embarrassed way; "it is
very hard to read your own productions."
"'Then let me read it," cried Peggy, attempting to seize
the paper.
" X,,, no ! I would rather do it myself than have you,
said Millicent, and presently she coughed hesitatingly and
began. " It is about the mosquito, and is called
•' LINES TO A Mosyrno.
' When day is done, and darkness comes shadowing down the
And Xi'-lit with her rustling winglets blots out the garish day,
We hear the song of an iusect singing its musical lay.
" Oh, insect with wings that flutter ! Oh, insect on murder intent,
Oh. creature, we'd love thee dearly if thou wert not on blood-
shed bent !
And we'd bear with thy visits gladly, we e'en would be content.
"Then cease thy busy prattle, and cease thy dangerous slings,
Learn, learn to be meek and lamblike like other less - harmful
th i n gs,
Till we hail with joy thy coming, thy coming on peaceful wings !'
Here the poem ended, and the reader paused for the ap-
plause which she felt to be her due. Peggy had turned
aside, and was leaning her head upon her hand so that
Millicent could not see her face. Joan was the lirst to
speak.
••Millicent, how perfectly lovely! Did yon really do it
all yourself? Yon are the smartest thing I ever knew.
That benimiing was just too -perfect. Somehow it remind-
ed me of something else."
"Longfellow, probably." said Millicent ••When day is
done, and darkness comes shadowing down the way,' is sug-
gestive of him."
•• All except the ' shadowing,' " said Peggy.
"No; I made that word up." returned Millicent, with
complacency. "Poets are obliged to coin words some-
times. What do yon think of the poem. Peggy .'"
••Wonderful!" replied her cousin, in a stifled voice.
-How did yon think of asking a mosquito to be like alamb ?"
She turned away again, and her shoulders shook con-
vulsively.
"Do read the other!" cried Joan, enthusiastically.
don't see how yon ever make them rhyme so beautifully."
" Oh, that is easy enough," said Millicent, much pleased.
"Whenever I don't know just what to put I look in my
rhyming dictionary for a word."
"Rhyming dictionary .'" repeated Peggy, at last uncover-
ing a crimson face. " Do poets use rhyming dictionaries?"
"" Of course. They are obliged to very often, and it saves
so much time and thought, you know. Xow this is a son-
net. It is my favorite form of verse. I suppose you both
know that a sonnet must be just fourteen lines?'1
"Oh, I know,"agreed Peggy, amiably, " and there are
other rules about it, too."
"Well, that one is the most important, about the four-
teen lines. I don't pay much attention to the other rules.
I think rules hamper you when you are composing."
"Oh!" said Peggy.
" This is called 'A Sonnet to the Moth Miller,' " continued
Millicent :
" Oh, little creature, made so fair, so white.
What seekest tliou about my closet door?
To see thee fills no soul with deep delight,
Thy coming, almost all men do deplore.
So silent and so fatal is thy task
We haste to catch thee, bring the camphor forth,
To kill thee quite stone-dead is all we ask,
Thou little quiet woollen-loving moth!
We crush thee, east the atoms to the wind,
Stamp underfoot, and tread thee with the heel.
Oh, tell me! Dost thou really truly inindy
Can little frail white creatures lik,- thee feel?
What are thy thoughts, and what emotions thine?
To know thy feelings, dear white moth, 1 pine !"
WhenMillicent's pathetic voice ceased there was silence
in the room, and then from the table upon which Peggy's
head was resting came peal after peal of laughter.
•• ( >h, do excuse me, Milly!" she cried, as soon as she could
speak. "I didn't mean to laugh, but it struck me as so
awfully funny, don't you know. • About your closet door,'
aud bringing tbe— the— camphor forth. Oh, oh, moth-balls
are better, and you might have put in something about the
smell! Ha, ha.'ha !" and Peggy fairly shrieked with laugh-
ter as she held her side and rocked to and fro. " Oh, do ex-
cuse me ! Bnt— but— I can't h— help it ! It's— the funni-
est thin" I ever heard! At least it isn't really, but it just
PEGGY FAIRLY SHRIEKED WITH LAUGHTER OVER THE POEM.
struck me so. And — ami — if you cau treail a moth under
your — your heel, you're terribly smart. Oh, Mill, Mill !"
"There !" said Millieeut, rising, aud thrusting her papers
into a drawer in her desk, and turning the key with an
angry snap. "I knew just how it would be. I believe
you would laugh at my funeral."
"Oh no, indeed, I wouldn't. Milly — not at your funeral.
But really, you know, it just struck me. I think the rhymes
are perfectly splendid. Don't you, Joan ?"
" Indeed I do," cried Joanna; " and I don't see what you
saw to laugh at. I think they are beautiful, Millieeut.
Aren't you going to read some more?"
" No, indeed. Never !"
'' I wish yon would write a poem about Cousin Appolina,"
said Peggy. "Hateful thing! She might take at least one
of us abroad with her. if not all three. She has such loads
of money, and no one to spend it on but herself."
" Probably she u-ill lake one of us," observed Joan.
" It won't be me, then," said her cousin, positively, but
ungrammatically; "she hates me like fury. It will be one
of you. Well, it wouldn't be much fun to dance attendance.
on Cousin Appolina if she should happen to have a cranky
fit. Mill, I know you are mad, for yon haven't spoken a
word since I laughed. Do forgive me. Ami, tell me, what
are yon going to send to the fair?"
" I have nothing to send," replied Millieeut, rather shortly.
"Send your poems! Brilliant idea!" exclaimed the in-
corrigible Peggy. "Have them printed on separate slips
of paper, and sign some queer name, and say a member of
the congregation wrote them, and see how they take."
"I don't, care to have you make any more fun of me aud
my writings," said Millicent, with great dignity.
"No fun, honor bright! Only I wish yon would put in
one about Cousin Appolina Briggs. If you don't, I believe
I will. Yon could lend me your rhyming dictionary to do
it with, and I believe I could write a poem as well as — any-
body. But haven't you got anything on hand that you
don't want, in the way of fancy-work, that yon might send?"
"I have those worsted slippers Cousin Appolina, gave mo
for Christmas. They are in the box, just as she sent them."
"The very thing! Who wants her old worsted slippers?
And fairs are always full of them. And you will have you?
poems printed and send them, won't yon, dear child?''
Her cousin did not see the gleam of mischief which came
into Peggy's eyes as she said this. Millicent was ponder-
ing the situation too deeply. Peggy had never dreamed
until now that she would take the proposition seriously.
"I believe I will, "said the poetess, after some minutes'
pause, interrupted only by the admiring Joanna, who urged
her sister to act upon Peggy's suggestion. " It would give
me the recognition I want. They can be sold at five cents
a copy, and if I see people buying 1 shall know that they
are liked, and then some day I might have some published
in a book. Thank yon ever so much, Peggy, for thinking
of it. I will sign them 'Pearl Proctor,' just as I do those
that I send to the magazines, and no one will ever know
who it is. I will have them type-written on attractive pa-
per. And I will send Cousin Appolina's shoes. She won't
be home from Washington until after the fair, and she will
never know. They had really better be doing some good."
" She wouldn't recognize them, anyhow ; she is so near-
sighted that even that gold lorgnette wouldn't discover her
own stitches. Well, good-by, girls. I'm going."
Unknown to her cousins, Peggy slipped away with the
rhyming dictionary under her arm. She had discovered it
on the table, and the opportunity was too good to be wasted.
She crossed the street to her own home and retired to-
her own room, from which she did not emerge for an hour
or more. At dinner that night her family, had they looked
at her with attention, might have discovered an additional
expression of mischief in her eyes and :i satisfied look on
her face. But fortunately one's family are not apt to notice*
"If I thought there was the least chance of Cousin Ap-
polina choosing me to go abroad. I might not run the risk,"
she said to herself; " but she wouldn't take me on any ac-
count. Besides, she'll never hear of this, and it will be such,
fun to paralyze Milly. Just fancy her taking me in earnest,
and sending her poems to the fair! Oh, oh ! What a dear
old innocent she is! It is a shame to tease her, but I just
can't help it. Pearl Proctor! Pearl Proctor! what naughty
deed is about to be perpetrated in thy name!"
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
450
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
A Sequel to "The Fur-Seal's Tooth."
BY KIRK M U X R O E,
AutHOR OF " DORYMATES," " CAMPMATES," " RAFTMATES," " CANOEMATES," ETC.
CHAPTER XVII.
JALAP COOMBS'S KOURTKEX PAIR OF FKET.
F course, Mr. Coombs, yon can't ex-
l>c-ct us to go baclc to St. Mich-
aels non', "began Phil, as a pre-
liminary to unfolding his scheme
for the discomfiture of Simon
Goldollar and his unprincipled
companion.
"Why riot?" demanded the
sailor, who had not for a mo-
ment expected anything else.
"As soon as I found ye I were
to bring ye to St. Michaels, ami keep ye there till your
father comes. Them's orders, and to disobey 'em would be
mutiny, nigh as I kin make out."
'• That would be all right if you had found us ; but you
haven't."
" Eh ?" queried Jalap Coombs. '' I hain't found ye ?"
"Certainly not," laughed
Phil. " Instead of you rind-
ing us, we have found you.
If yon had struck us at Au-
vik, it is possible that \ve
might have gone back with
you, but as we have found
yon some four hundred
miles from there, we shall
•certainly do nothing of the
kind. You see, to begin
with, \ve are under the
greatest of obligations to
Captain Hamer, who, by-
the-way, is one of the fiiiest
men I ever met."
Here Phil told of the ter-
rible experience he and
Serge had undergone in
Bering Sea, and of theirgal-
lant rescue by Gerald Ha-
mer, all of which the ab-
sorbed listener uow heard
for the first time.
"Now," continued the
lad, " we have left him just
Tecoveriug from a danger-
ous illness, and unfitted to
travel for some months. If
he can't get word out to the
coast before spring he will
be a heavy loser. So Serge
and I have undertaken to
•carry and deliver the mes-
sage for him. Our entire
outfit, down to the very
clothing we wear, was fur-
nished by him on that con-
dition. It is also our duty
to try and defeat the plans
of his enemies, who are also
our enemies, and now seem
to have become yours as
well. So you see we are in
liouor bound to push on
with all speed. Besides all
this, we certainly ought to
be able to reach Sitkalong
Jjefore my father cau get
away from there, and so save him a long, tedious, and use-
less journey."
"I'm not so sartain of that," demurred Jalap Coombs.
"For ye've been trying to make Sitka long's ever I've
knowed ye, which is going on a year no\v. and hain't come
anywhere nigh to it yet. Still, as my old friend Kite K'oh-
erson useter say, 'Jalap, my son, alters steer by san-nin-
stances; for as a giueral thing they'll p'int straighter 'u a
compass,' and I am free to admit that your present sarcum-
stanees is p'intiug pretty direct towards Sitka. But how
do ye propose to sarenmvent the villyans what run off
with my dogs ?"
"Now you are talking straight business," laughed Phil.
"As I understand it, the main object of those fellows is to
capture the next season's trade of the Yukon Valley, and
especially of the diggings at Forty Mile, by taking advance
orders at lower rates than the old company has ever before
offered. Even then their prices are certain to be exorbi-
tant, and with Gerald Hauler's list I am certain lean un-
derbid them. But that won't be of anv use unless we can
•KIKMCK."
457
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
be first in the field, for after the orders are given and eon-
tracts signed those other chaps could langli at us and our
prices. So our only hope is to reach Forty Mile ahead of
them."
" Wlii ch ye can't do it -without wings or steam," objected
.lalap Coombs, "seeiug they's got two good days' start."
••I wouldn't care if they had six days' start," answered
Phil. "I am coufideut that we could still beat them with
just ordinary snow-shoes and sledges and plain everyday
North American dogs. They have gone around the great
arctic bend of the Yukon, haven't they? And so have a
journey of at least seven hundred miles ahead of them be-
fore they reach Forty Mile."
'•Yes. ''replied Jalap. "They said as it were the only
navigable channel."
" Well.it isn't, for I know of another that is equally good,
and two hundred miles or so shorter. Y'ou see, there is a
big river coming from the southeast and emptying into the
Yukon somewhere in this vicinity, called the Tananah."
"That's right," assented the sailor, "for I've already
passed its mouth twice about half-way between here and
where the >'/. Miclnn'h is friz in."
" Good enough,1' said Phil. " Now by following this Ta-
nnnah for two or three hundred miles, and taking u[ - of
its eastern branches that is called, the Gheesah, or some
such name, and crossing a divide, we can strike the head-
waters of Forty Mile Creek."
"Aud sail down with the current, run into port under
a full press of canvas, and capture, the market afore the
enemy heaves in sight!" exclaimed Jalap Coombs, enthu-
siastically, his practical miud quick to note the advantages
of Phil's scheme. "But what's to become of me?" he
added, anxiously. " Kin ye fit me out with a new pair of
feet ?"
"Certainly -we can," replied Phil, promptly. "We can fit
you out with fourteen new pair, and will guarantee that
thus provided you will be able to travel as last as the rest
of us."
"Fourteen pair o' feet?" repeated Jalap Coombs, reflect-
ively. " and slow shoes on every pair? Seems tome, son, you
must be calkilating to run me under a kind of a santipede
rig, which it looks like the strain on the. hull would be too
great. As for navigating fourteen pair of slow shoes all
to once, I don't reckon old Kite hisself could do it. Still,
if you think it can be did, why, go ahead and try it on. I'm
agreeable, as the cat said after he'd swallowed the cap'u's
wife's canary."
So Phil's plan was adopted without a dissenting voice,
and from that moment Jalap Coombs said nothing more
about a return to St. Michaels.
That very evening, leaving Serge to see what could be
done for the sailor-man's lameness, and taking Kurilla with
him to act as interpreter, Phil visited several Indian huts.
At these he finally succeeded in purchasing enough furs
and moose-hide for a huge sleeping-bag, which the several
squaws, who, under promise of a liberal recompense in tea,
undertook its construction promised should be ready by
morning. Phil also bought an immense pair of arctic
sleeping-socks, and an extra supply of snow-goggles.
When he told Knrilla of their change of plan, and that
they intended going up the Tauauah, the latter replied, du-
biously : "Me plenty don't know um. Maybe git lose.
Yaas."
" Oh, that '11 be all right," answered Phil, cheerfully.
"You'll plenty know nm before we get through with nin,
and whenever you dou't know which way to go, just come
and ask me."
When he returned to the house he found Serge boiling
with indignation. "Do you know," he cried, "that Mr.
Coombs has walked all the way from St. Michaels without
pads in his boots, because those other fellows told him his
feet would toughen quicker if he didn't use them ? The
consequence is they are simply raw from blisters, and every
step he takes must be like treading on knives."
" It has been tedious at times," admitted Jalap Coombs.
"And under the sarcumstances I don't know but what I'd
ruther have one pair of feet than fourteen, or even half the
number."
"Isn't, it good to have old Jalap with us once more?"
asked Phil ut 'Si-rye, after they had turned in that night.
" Indeed it is; but do you notice how he has changed?"
"1 should say 1 had. He is like a salt-water tish sud-
denly dropped into a fresh-water pond. He'll come out all
right, though, especially if we can only get his feet into
shape again."
That night the mercury fell to 59° below zero, and the
next morning even Phil, impatient as he was to proceed,
had not the heart to order men or dogs out into that hitter
air before sunrise. With that, however, the mercury began
slowly to rise, anil when it had crept np 19°, or to only 40°
below, the young leader declared the weather to be warm
enough for anybody. So he ordered the sledges to be u"t
ready, and when the one drawn by his own team came.
dashing up to the door, he announced that Mr. Coombs's
fourteen pair of feet were at his service. He also politely
requested the sailor-man to crawl into a big fur-lined bag
with which the sledge was provided, and make himself
comfortable.
"But, Phil," demurred the other, "I ain't no passenger to
be tucked np in a steamer-cheer on deck. I'm shipped fur
this Vy'ge as one of the crew."
"Very well," replied Phil. "Then of course you will
obey orders without a murmur, for I remember hearing you
say, when we were aboard the Xeameic, that even if a cap-
tain were to order his whole crew to knit bedquilts or
tidies, they'd be bound to obey to the best of their ability."
" Sartain," admitted the other. "I got that from old
Kite Roberson, which bedquilts and tidies were his very
words." Then, without further remonstrance, the ciippled
sailor stepped to the sledge, slid feet first into the big bag,
and lay there like an animated mummy, with the hood,
of his parka drawn close about his face. Its encircling
fringe of long wolf hair, added to his preternatural gravity
of countenance, gave him such a comical expression that
the boys could not help shouting with laughter as Kurilla
cracked his great whip and the dogs sprang away with
their new burden.
Phil took the lead, as usual, and when they reached the
month of the Tananah, which, on account of its broad ex-
pause, there was no chance of mistaking, he turned into it
without hesitation, and in a few minutes they bad taken
their last view of the Yukon for many a long day.
At its mouth the Tanauah is nearly three miles broad, or
as wide as the Yukon itself, and is filled with islands, on
which are stranded quantities of uprooted trees of greater
size than any seen on the Yukon above that point.
The bitterness of the cold continued nuabatecl, and the
sledge party had hardly lost sight of the Yukon ere the
young leader heard himself hailed from the rear, and paused
to see what was wanted.
"I say, Cap'u Phil," began Jalap Coombs, with chatter-
ing teeth, "is it your orders or desire that your men should
freeze to death ?"
" Certainly not," laughed the lad.
" Then, sir, I has the honor to report that this member of
the crew is already froze solid half-way up, with ice mak-
ing fast through the remainder of his system."
" That is entirely contrary to orders," replied Phil, stern-
ly, " and must be stopped at once. So, sir, put your helm,
to port, and run for yonder timber."
Half an hour later poor Jalap was being outwardly
thawed by a roaring fire of great logs, and inwardly by
cupful after cupful of scalding tea, which moved him to re-
mark that, according to his friend Kite Eoberson, tea and
coffee were the next best things to observations of the sun.
for determining latitude.
C H A P T E U XVIII.
c HKISTMAS ON THE TANANAH.
"LooK here," said Phil, referring to the mate's last sur-
prising statement, " wasn't your friend Mr. Robinson in the
habit of drawing the long bow ?"
"No," replied Jalap Coombs, in surprise at the question j
" he couldn't abide 'em."
" Couldn't abide what ?"
458
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
" Bows, nor yet arrers, since when he were a kid some
boys put up a game on him that they called William Tell,
which alters did seem to me the foolishest game, seeing
that his name warn't William, but Kite, and he waru't ex-
pected to tell anything, only just to stand with a pumpkin
on his head for them to shoot their bow-arrers at. Waal.
the very fust one missed the pumpkin and plunked pom-
Kite in the stnmmick, after which he didn't have no use
for a long bow nor a short, bow, nor yet a bow of any kind."
"I don't blame him," laughed Serge. "But we would
very much like to know how he determined latitude by tea
and coffee."
" Easy enough." was the reply. " You see, tea is drunk
mostly in cold latitoods similar to this, aud coffee iu warm.
The higher the latitood, the hotter and stronger the tea,
aud the less you hear of coffee. At forty-five or there-
abouts they's drunk about alike, while south of that coffee
grows blacker and more common, while tea takes a back
seat till you get to the line, where it's mighty little used.
Theu as you go south of that the same thing begins all
over again ; but there's not many would notice sich things,
aud fewer as would put 'em to practical use like old Kite
done."
" Mr. Coombs," said Phil, " you sound pretty well thawed
out, and if that is the case we'll get under way again."
"Ay, ay, sir!" responded the mate, thrashing his long
arms vigorously across his chest to restore circulation, and
then slipping resignedly into his fur bag. "Anchor's apeak,
sir." And away sped the sledges up the broad level of
the Tamilian.
Every member of the party had by this time become so
thoroughly broken in to his duties, that when they made
camp that night the promptness with which it was pre-
pared, as well as the ensuing comfort, was a revelation to
Jalap Coombs, who declared that there had been nothing-
like it iu the camps of the other party.
"Of course not," said Phil, " for they haven't got Serge
Belcofsky along, so how could their comfort equal ours ?"
At this Serge, covered with confusion, replied, "Non-
sense, Phil! Yon know it is because we have got such
capital campiiien as Kurilla and Chitsah with us."
At this the face of the elder Indian beamed with pleasure.
He did not exactly understand the conversation ; but be-
lieving that he ought to make some reply, he pointed to Ja-
lap Coombs, and looking at Phil, remarked :
" Yon fadder. Yaas."
But the journey up the Tananah was by no means an un-
broken record of swift uiovings from one comfortable camp
to another, or of jokes and pleasantries. The days were
now at their shortest, so that each could boast only about
four hours of sunlight, aud even that was frequently ob-
scured by fierce storms, when the howling winds cut like
knives, and it required every ounce of Phil Ryder's pluck
as well as Serge Belcofsky's dogged determination to keep
the little party in motion. The feet of the poor dogs
were often so pierced by ice slivers that their tracks were
marked with blood. The older and more experienced would
bite at these and pull them out. Others would howl with
pain, while some would lie down and refuse to work until
they were put in boots, which were little bags of deer-hide
drawn over their feet and fastened with buckskin thongs.
It was a journey of constant and painful struggle and
of dreary monotony, each day being only the same endless
succession of ice-bound river, snow -covered hills, and
sombre forest. Especially depressing was the night of
the 24th of December, when, with an icy wind moaning
through the tree-tops of the subarctic forest, and the
shivering dogs edging toward the fire for a share of its
grateful warmth, Phil aud Serge and Jalap Coombs re-
minded each other that this was Christmas eve. Never
before had Phil spent one away from home, nor had the
others ever been so utterly removed from the cheering in-
fluences of the joyous season. So Phil described what he
knew was taking place iu far-distant New London at that
very hour, and Serge told of merry times iu quaint old
Sitka, while Jalap Coombs recalled many a noble plum
duff that had graced Christmas feasts far out at sea, uni il
they all grew homesick, aud Cually crawled into their
sleeping-bags to dream of scenes as remote from those sur-
rounding them as could well be imagined.
As they always selected a camping-place, and prepared
for the long night by the hist of the scanty daylight or in
the middle of the afternoon, so they always resumed their
journey by the moonlight or starlight, or even in the darkness
of two or three o'clock the next morning. On Christmas
morning they started as usual many hours before daylight,
and, cither owing to the vagueness of all outlines or because
his thoughts wen- far away, tin- young leader mistook a
branch for the main river, and headed for a portion of the
mighty wilderness that no white man had ever yet ex-
plored.
About noon they passed a forlorn native village of three
or four snow-covered huts, the occupants of which gazed
at the unaccustomed sight of white travellers in stolid
amazement. They had gone nearly a mile beyond this sole
evidence of human occupation to be found iu many a weary
league when Phil suddenly stopped.
"Look here!" he exclaimed, " what do you two say to
going back, making a camp near that village, and having
sum.- sort of a Christinas after all? It doesn't seem right
for white folks to let the day go by without celebrating it
somehow."
As the others promptly agreed to this proposition the
sledges were faced about, and a few minutes later the music
of Musky's jingling bells again attracted the wondering
natives from their burrows.
Camp was made on a wooded island opposite the village,
and while the others were clearing the snow from a space
some fifty feet square, and banking it up on the windward
side, Phil took his gun and set forth to hunt for a Christmas
dinner. An hour later he returned with four arctic hares
and a brace of ptarmigan or Yukon grouse whose winter
plumage was as spotless as the snow itself.
He found Serge and Jalap Coombs concocting a huge
plum duff, while from the brass kettle a savory steam was
already isMiing. Kurilla and Chitsah had chopped a hole
through four feet of ice and were fishing, while a few
natives from the village hovered about the outskirts of the
camp watching its strange life with curious interest.
They were very shy, and moved away when Phil ap-
proached them, seeing which he. called Kurilla and bade
him tell them that a present would be given to every man,
woman, and child who should visit the camp before snnsrt.
At first they could not comprehend this startling propo-
sition, but after it had been repeated a few times the
youngest of them, a mere boy, uttered a joyous shout and
started on a run for the village. A few minutes later its
entire population, not more, than twenty-five iu all, includ-
ing babes in arms, or ralher in the hoods of their mother's
parkas, came hurrying over from the mainland filled with
eager expectancy.
To every man Phil presented a small piece of tobacco, to
every woman a handful of tea, and to every child a biscuit
dipped in molasses. With each present he uttered, very
distinctly, the word "Christmas." At length one child,
though whether it was a boy or a girl he could not make
out, for their fur garments were all exactly alike, looked
up with a bashful smile and said, " Kikmuk." In a minute
all the others had caught the word, and the air rang with
shouts of " Kikmuk," mingled with joyous laughter.
Then they all trooped back to the village, shouting
"Kikmuk" as they went, and so long as they live the,
word will be associated in their minds with happiness and
good-will. Three of them, a man and two women, after-
wards returned, bringing with them a pair of dainty moc-
casins, a fox-skin, and an intestine filled with melted fat,
which they timidly presented to Phil. Serge, and Jalap
Coombs respectively. The last-named regarded his gift
rather dubiously, but accepted it with a hearty " Kikmuk,"
and remarked that it would probably be good for his feet.
which it afterward proved to be.
These three were invited to dine with Kurilla and Chii-
sah,an invitation which they accepted, and so became the
guests of the Christmas dinner. On their side of the fire
the feast consisted largely of the fish the Indians had just
caught, to which were added unstinted tea and a liberal
459
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
supply of the plum dufl". On the other side were mock-tur-
tle soup << la can, baked fish, rabbit fricassee, roast grouse,
plum dnft', hard bread, tea, and cocoa — all of which com-
bined to form what Phil pronounced to be the very best
Christinas dinner he had ever eaten, in which sentiment
Serge and Jalap Coombs heartily concurred.
Even the dogs were giveu cause to rejoice that Christ-
mas had at length come to their snowy laud by receiving
a double ration of dried fish, which put them into such
good spirits that they spent the greater part of the night
in a rollicking game of romps. Ou the Indian side of the
fire unwonted good cheer so overcame the shyness of the
villagers that the man ventured to ask questions regarding
the intentions and destination of this sledge party of
strangers. When these were stated by Kurilla he re-
mained silent for a minute. Theu he delivered a long and
animated speech.
As a result of this, and when it was finished, Kurilla left
his own side of the fire, aud, approaching Phil, said,
"You go Forty Mile?"
" Yes. We all going to Forty Mile, of course."
"No like urn Tauanah ?"
"Certainly I like the Tanauah well enough. I shall like
it better, though, when we have seen the last of it."
"No cau see uui now."
" Why not ? There it is right out yonder."
"No. Him Kloot-la-ku-ka. Tanauah so" (pointing to
the way they had come). "You go so way " (pointing up-
stream) ; " get lose, mebbe ; no fin ; plenty bad. Yaas."
So, all on account of keeping Christmas, and trying to
bring a little of its joy into the hearts of those children of
the wilderness, Phil's mistake was discovered before its
consequences became disastrous, and he was once more en-
abled to place his little party on the right road to Sitka.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
LIFE=BLOOD OF A GREAT CITY.
HOW NEW YORK GETS ITS WATER.
BY JULIAN RALPH.
THE furnishing of water to millions of human beings in
a city, and the arrangements for giving it to them as
they want it, whether merely by the glassful or in the pro-
fusion with which it is used in a brewery, are among the
most wonderful achievements of civilization. Imagine the
way men live when they break their way into a new coun-
try; that is the only manner in which we can measure the
convenience of a modern water supply. I have seen the
settlers on the Canadian plains walking a quarter of a mile
— perhaps half a mile — to the Bow River to fill a bucket
with water with which to cook and with which to supply
drink to a household. Bathing, as we understand the term,
AQUEDUCT TUNNEL UNDER THE HAHLEM.
was only to be done
by going to the same
river and plunging
in — during the few
months when the
river water was
warm. Thus it must
have been with the
first Hollanders who
settled Manhattan
Island. In time they
dug wells in the
ground, aud then
came that more lav-
ish use of the splen-
did fluid, attended
by such economy as
used to lead the
Dutch mothers to
scold the children
with that admoni-
tion we still may
hear in the country,
"Do you think the
servant-girl has no-
thing to do but to
carry water up stairs
for you to waste it as
you do f"
Did the render
ever see a medical
or anatomical chart
of the human body,
showing the arteries
and veins that carry
the blood from our
hearts to every main
aud every minute
part of our bodies?
How like a tree it
looks, with its main
stem or trunk, with
its great branches,
with its delicate
boughs and switches
aud twigs. Well, a
Crotou- water chart of the system by which a river is brought
to our bedrooms, iustead of our having to go to the river
with our buckets, would be just such another complicated,
marvellous, treelike object, only I really think it would be
more astonishing in one sense, because it is so wholly the
hard brain-work of man instead of the mysterious divine
creation of the Almighty, whose works are so profound that
their wonders do not surprise us so much as when man
produces something a tenth part or a thousandth part as
extraordinary.
If we could cut away all the earth of the island, leaving
the water-mains bare, and if we could tear down all the
buildings of the city so as to allow the water-pipes to
stand up, bare and naked, just as they now stand up in
their covers of brick aud plaster, I suppose the sight of
that wonderful forest of big aud little pipes would be as
surprising as auythiug that any human being ever saw.
Just try to fancy Manhattan Island all under a tangle of
towering pipes aud crisscrossed tubes, aud then, while we
are about it, just 1'anry a lot of savages landing here and
tampering with those pipes uutil one of them should touch
some cock and turn on the water. What a raiu there
would be, in big streams and middling streams and tiny
little streams, out of millions of fixtures ! No shower bath
that was ever conceived or heard of would compare with
it. And yet — see bow small and weak man is, after all — it
would not begin to equal an ordinary rain-storm.
Of water mains — or big pipes sunk in the streets to dis-
tribute the Crotou water from the reservoirs — there are no
less thau 715 miles, but when the reader thinks how at
every twenty -five feet smaller pipes branch out of the
mains to carry the water to every floor of every building
MAP OF CROTON AQUEDUCT.
400
RESERVOIR IN CENTRAL PARK.
and sometimes to every office or room, he will see that of
smaller pipes there must be tens of thousands of miles,
making up that grand tree which is as much the "tree of
life" of a great city as the arterial system is the tree of
life of each of our bodies. To carry oft' the water that
courses through all these thousands of miles of pipes \ve
have 456 miles of sewers — or much bigger pipes ; some of
which men can walk through or even paddle a boat in.
One hundred and fifty years ago, when New York was
considered rather an ancient town, the people got their
water for drinking from the "collect," where the Tombs
prison stands, and from the little springs and streams that
ran into that pond. A very few had wells, public or pri-
vate, near their houses. It was not until 1750 that pumps
were set up to make the getting of water easier. It will
surprise the reader to know that hundreds of these old
wells still remain upon the island. Two or three still have
pumps affixed to them, and are used for giving drink to
horses, but the rest are covered over and, in most cases,
their existence is forgotten. It is not possible, even in case
of war, when our water supply might be cut off, that we
will ever revert to the use of these wells, for they yield a
polluted water that is as bad to drink as poison. Just
before the Revolutionary War a man named Colles built a
little reservoir above the City Hall, but it yielded such bad
water that the people who could afford to do so bought
water that was hawked in the streets from carts. It was
not until 1842, when we had a population of 350,000 souls,
that New York got its water systematically and in such
plenty that mothers did not scold their children and May-
ors did not remonstrate with the people for wasting it.
New York has never been a boastful city. It never has
filled the world with the noise of its greatness or the pa-
rade of its wonderful achievements. Its Broadway is the
longest thoroughfare iu Christendom, I believe; its sus-
pension-bridge is only excelled by one bridge of another
kind; its actual size and population are second to those
of but one city ; but such facts one
must glean from the encyclopae-
dias and the letters of travellers.
The New-Yorkers say nothing
about them. Therefore it is but
little known that the aqueduct
which carries our water to us is
the greatest — many times the
greatest — tunnel in the whole
world. It is more than thirty-
three miles in length, and far from
being a mere trench, averages a
depth of 170 feet below the sur-
face, and is iu places 380 feet un-
derground. It is from ten to thir-
teen feet high, and averages near-
ly as great a width. Its way is
hewn through solid rock in places,
and it is everywhere built of
brick and granite. It passes un-
der several rivers, and at the Har-
lem Eiver, the northern boundary
of this island, it is in the shape
of a siphon upside down, sloping
for 1300 feet under the river, and
then rising 400 feet straight up
through the Manhattan Island bank of the stream. It cost
nearly $27,000,000, and it brings, without pumping, by the
incline of the tunnel, nearly 100 gallons of water a day
for each of the 1,900,000 persons in the city, or about
171,000,000 gallons of water a day for all of us. It is a
solid cube of water running at the rate of two miles an
hour, eight or ten feet thick, and ten or a dozen feet high.
We are iu the habit of saying that the water we drink
comes from Croton Lake, thirty miles north of the city in
\Vfstchester County, but that is only a part of the truth.
The fact is, that Croton Lake was made by damming the
Crotou River when our system was begun in 1835—42. We
now take that water, and the water oi' several other lakes,
ponds, and rivers that are in a great valley or depression
in the earth called the Crotou watershed. We keep stored
up and ready for use about 17,000,000,000 gallons of water
in the following natural and artificial reservoirs: Crotou
Lake, Lake Mahopac, Lake Gilead, and Kirk Lake, Mid-
dle Branch, East Branch, Bog Brook, and Barrett 1'ond.
Their names sufficiently describe the character of these
great goblets of crystal water which nature and man have
arranged for the needs of the great city. But these are so
insufficient that, although it is believed we could draw
250,000,000 gallons a day even in dry weather, we are going
to take into our system three more reservoirs, which will
allow us to store 13,000,000,000 gallons more than we cau
store at present. And as even these will not long supply
our growing needs, we are about to build the greatest dam
the world ever saw. It is already called the Quaker Bridge
dam. It is to be built five miles south of Croton Lake,
back of the town of Sing Sing, where the great State-prison
is. It will be a great pyramidal-shaped wall of solid ma-
sonry'264 feet high, and 1500 feet long, and will cost, the
officials think, at least $6,000,000. When it is finished, a,
magnificent rich farming country will be flooded and turned
into one immense glass of water for old Father Knicker-
bocker (as we call our patron saint) and his children. The
THE OLD WAY.
461
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
•water that will bank up against that dam will rise up
•over many, many farms and Louses and barns and villages
I'm- a distance of DO less than sixteen miles, and the present
dam at Croton Lake will be thirty-five feet uuder tlie sur-
face of the water. Now we store 17.1 .1. .MOO gallons of
\\ater, lint then we will have a liquid treasure of 84,600,-
000,000 gallons.
We are apt to think about water as free because Nature
evidently intended that it should cost no more than fresh
air. And so it is free, so long as we are satisfied to use
very little, and to go and dip up that very little out of a
stream and carry it to our homes. But when we demand
the full fruits of modern civilization, when we insist upon
the building of huge dams and vast reservoirs and tnnuels
and pumping-stations, we must buy the water they bring
in order to pay for the cost of the convenience. What
we pay in New York amounts to about 81 75 a head for
every man, woman, and child in the city, or more than
$3,000,000 a year. This great tax, called the " water
rents, ''is used to pay the interest ou the debt we owe for
our aqueduct, to keep the system in repair, and to swell a
-sinking fund which we have established. The water rents
are not paid according to the amount of water each person
uses, but for the quantity that passes into each house, of-
fice building, factory, brewery, and stable. The house-
owners each pay between four dollars and eighteeu dollars
a year, and the men who use great quantities — such as
brewers, makers of mineral water, sugar refiners, and the
like — in the course of their business all pay special rates,
which seem very large indeed when we read the sums in
print.
efl li- niiflwh-r liny -lueation on the subject eo far as possible. Correspondents should
address Editor Camera Ciub Department.
MEMORY ALBl'.MS.
WHAT a wonderful thing the memory is! Grandmamma,
who eoimt.s, perhaps, her threescore years and ten, sees a
pieee of faded calico, and her mind goes back to the time
when, a little girl of eight, she was dressed in a new gown,
of which this faded serap is a remnant, and taken to to\\ n
for "general training." She sees again the soldiers and
the officers in their uniforms, she almost smells the cards of
gingerbread, and hears the bustle and stir in the streets.
She may not have thought of this special day for long, long
years, but this bit of calico has brought it all back to her
memory.
SINCE THE ADVENT OP CAMERAS into nearly every family
one has the opportunity of making actual pictures of festal
occasions which occur, such as the birthday parties, the
family picnics, John's new bicycle and his first unsuccess-
ful attempt to ride it. the Hallowe'en frolic, the Christmas
tret — any special day or event can be preserved in gelatine,
and in a few years these pictures will have for one more
interest and value than many made from much liner nega-
tives. Now we want to suggest to our young amateurs
that they start memory albums at once.
BEGIN THE ALBUM BY LOOKING OVER your collection of
plates, and select such as have been made ou special occa-
sions. From these make prints, and lie sure and look up the
exact date on which the picture was taken. Do not reject a
"memory picture" because it is not as clear a plate or the
grouping as artistic as one could desire. For the album
itself, buy the album leaves which are almost as cheap as
card mounts, and they can be added to from time to time as
one makes new pictures. Arrange your pictures in chrono-
logical order — that is. the earliest date first, etc., marking
under each picture its proper date.
A PERSON" WHO HAS USED A CAMERA for two or three years
will find he has quite a number of " memory pictures," and
oiie who starts a memory album should make it a rule to
add the pictures to his collection as soon as they are made.
One can use blue prints for such albums, for a good blue
print seldom fades or discolors, while aristo or albumen
prints, unless very carefully finished, are apt. to grow yel-
low or discolor. In after-years our memory albums will be
considered of as much value as any of our possessions.
Sin KNIGHT ALFREP C. BAKER asks "If he can become a member of
the Camera Club, and what are the duties ot a member?" We shall
be very giad to enroll Sir Alfred a member of our Camera Club, and a» he
says he o\vns two or three cameras, and finishes his own pictures, he will
doubtless be a great addition to our club. The duties of a member have
never been exactly denned, but we expect our members to tiike an active
interest in the work, and they are requested to send to the club any new
or improved way of doing anything in photography. We also want each
one of our members to become a specialist along tome special line of
photographic work. We hope soon to organize a correspondence and
exchange club. Sir Alfred would like to correspond on photography
with some of the members of the club, lie has also a Kombi camera
which be \vould like to sell or exchange.
THE MERRIEST TIME.
merriest time? Why, kite-time,
Or the time for playing ball;
Or maybe you like rolling hoop
The very best of all.
But, " Here's my own opinion,"
With a little laugh, cries Moll.
"The best is when I take a walk.
And carry my parasol.
"When muffs are packed in camphor,
And tippets put away,
When you needn't always wear your cloak
In the middle of the day.
" Y'es, I declare, the merriest time,"
With a dimpling laugh, says Moll,
" Is when I go to take a walk,
And carry my parasol."
M. E. 8.
A MESSENGER-BOY'S ADVENTURE.*
BY EDWARD W. TOWNSEND.
DANNY CAHILL had been a district messenger for a
year, and it seemed to him that he had been on every
stieet and across every park in the great city of New York.
Mr. Kean, who had helped him to become a newsboy, had
secured him a position in a down-town messenger office,
where he could easily learn his duties, and gradually be-
came acquainted with the city, for most of his "calls"
there were from offices which wanted messengers for short
errands, and lie was only occasionally sent far up town.
But after six months he was transferred to an office in the
fashionable part of the city, near Fifth Avenue, and then
he began to go on long journeys which gave him rides on
the elevated roads from one end of the city to the other;
" from the Battery to the Harlem River," as the saying is.
The work was hard, though, and more so for Danny, be-
cause, after or before his long hours ou duty, he went every
day or night to the school in the Newsboys' Lodging-house
where he lived. If he had been on night duty, no matter
how late he had been up, nor how many miles he had walked,
he was at school the next morning, and if on day duty, he
* The previous articles i;i this series, published in HARPER'S YOUNG PKO-
ri.it, are " A Streel-Waif'3 Luck," No. 792, "Danny Cahill, Newsboy,"
No. 803.
462
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
did not go to lied until lie bad attended the night class. I
cannot say that Danny liked this, for lie would much rather
have gone with the other beys on their pleasure excursions
tilinut the city, hut Mr. Kean had urged Danny to put in all
the time he could spare in school. He promised him that
if he did so he would find him a hetter position when he
•was far enough advanced to take one.
One evening, when it was nearly time for Danny to go
off duty, a messenger call came in the office, and as lie was
" next" he had to answer it. It took him to a hig fashion-
alile house where he had often been before, and he expect-
ed as usual to have a short errand with a note to some
neighboring house or shop. But when a servant let him
into the big hall he was soon joined by a maid who gave
him a bundle to carry, and told him ho was to take it, and
pilot her to the Tenement Mission, " wherever that may he,"
said the maid, cro.s.-ly.
Danny knew well enough where it was, for it was sit-
uated duly a few blocks from the place he once called
" home," where he had lived with his uncle who had made
him beg, and whom he had never seen since the day he es-
caped, by Mr. Kcan's aid, from the policeman who had ar-
rested both him and his uncle.
What he could not understand was what so grand a
house as he was then iu could have to do with the Tene-
ment Mission, and he said so to the maid when they were
on the street walking toward the Third Avenue elevated
station.
" I don't wonder at your surprise," said the maid. " The
lad\ iii charge of that nasty mission is the young lady of
our house, and I'm her maid. What she wants to go down
among those trash for I'm sure I don't know."
"Say," exclaimed Danny, in amazement, " de yer mean
dat Barstow lives win-re we's just come from?"
" Sure, Miss Barstow," answered the maid, " but how do
you know ?"
"Everybody down dare where I useter live knows her,
and calls her ' a tenement angel,' " Danny replied. " But she
don't dress grand — not so grand as you."
The maid laughed at this, and then said : " Well, she has
a right to dress as she pleases, and go where she pleases, I
suppose; but I don't know what right she has to telegraph
me to come down there with jelly and wine and broth that
you have in that bundle. I'll just tell her that I ain't going
to nurse any of her poor sick she's so fond of, if I have to
give up my place."
" Say, I guess she isn't tiiikiii' dat you won't nurse no-
body," Danny said, " because she'd get fooled, for I don't
believe you'd know how."
"And I don't want to know how," snapped the maid.
When the Tenement Mission was reached Miss Barstow
was not there, but a note had been left for the maid direct-
ing her to come, with the messenger, to an address which
was given.
"Where is the place?" asked the maid, showing Danny
the note.
"Oh, dat's a hack tenement-house iu Roosevelt Street,"
Danny answered. " Dare is Italians dare," he added, for he
knew the place well, his old home -with his uncle having
been in the same block.
"Is it any worse than this?" the maid asked, in a voice
which showed she was getting frightened.
"Dis is Fift' Avenue compared to dat," Danny said.
The girl began to whimper, and said at last, " I won't
go. I'm scared to death already. I won't go to her nasty
sick poor, and get the small-pox and everything else."
At first Danny did not know what to do. He tried to
persuade the maid to go, but she was thoroughly frightened
now, and half hysterical. Finally Danny took up the
bundle, saying : " Well, I'm going, anyway. If Miss Bar-
stow- wants dese things she is goiii' to have dem, and you
can do what yon like. I don't tink you are much good ex-
cept for show, anyhow."
" I'll stay here until some one conies and takes me
home," cried the girl, as Danny went out of the mission.
It was dark by this time, but Danny knew the way per-
feetly. He found the low narrow entrance to the front
tenement, went through that to a little stoue-pa'ved court
where there was one gas-lamp, and was crossing that when
a couple of men stopped him, and demanded roughly to
know what he had in the bundle.
••Never you mind." he answered. "It's for Miss Bar-
stow, not for mugs like you."
The men slunk away without any more threats. They
•were none too good, but they, like nearly all the people in
that neighborhood, had been won to respect Miss Barstow,
and anything which belonged to her was almost sacred in
their eyes.
lianny continued on across the dimly lit court into the
dark entrance of the rear tenement. At the door of the
room which Miss Barstow's note had described Danny
knocked softly, and was admitted by her, a tall, plainly
dressed, handsome young woman, whose kindly face was
at that moment clouded by anxiety. She seemed surprised
to see the messenger alone, and after taking the bundle
from him and placing it in a chair, she stepped out iu the
hall, closing the door so that their voices would not dis-
turb the sick people inside, and heard Danny's story of the
maid's fright and desertion.
Mi^s Barstow was silent for some time before she said,
and there was no anger iu her voice:
•'Perhaps I was wrong to send for her. I would not
have done so, but all my assistants are busy. But," she
added, after a pause,"! must have some assistance until
the doctor comes again."
" Say, what's de matter wid me helpiu' you, lady ?" asked
Danny, promptly.
Miss Barstow looked at him in the half-light the hall
lamp gave, and then said, ([iiickly, " Yes. Go and put my
maid on a car that will take her home, and then come
back here."
Danny did so, and was pretty soon back in the sick-
room with Miss Barstow and her two patients. The room
was poor, very poor, but better than the one he had lived
iu with his uncle. There were a bed and a cot, some chairs.
a rough table, a cook stove, and a few cooking and table
dishes.
Iu the bed was an Italian woman, and in the cot her
daughter, a girl about twelve years old. Both were sick
with a fever only too common in the tenement distiirt.
The husband and father was a fruit peddler, who had what
is called an " all-night " stand on the Bowery. The man
and his wife alternated with each other in attending the
stand, and it was exposure to the cold wet nights that had
brought on the woman's fever. The girl had been a scholar
in the day-school for tenement children in Miss Barstow's
Mi>siou,but she had attempted to take her mother's place
at the stand when the woman was taken sick, and she, too,
soon came down with the fever.
It was while making inquiries about her absent scholar
that Miss Barstow had found the patients both iu bed, and
having only the rough care the man could give them dur-
ing the few hours he could leave his stand. Danny was
soon at work under Miss Barstow's orders, and both the
patients had some dainty food and wine, and every aiien-
tiou to make them comfortable. Before the Doctor arrived
both mother and daughter were sleeping quietly, and Dan-
ny found himself whispering the story of his life to Miss
Barstow, who, it seemed to him, had the kindest way of
asking questions and understanding what he told her of
any person in the world. The Doctor smiled when he
came iu at midnight and saw them, and Danny blushed
proudly when the lady told the Doctor that her messenger
had proved to be a good nurse and a very interesting com-
panion.
The Doctor ordered Miss Barstow to go home, saying he
would wait there until the husband came. When MN-
Barstow had paid Danny, she asked him which way he
was going. "I'm goiu' to see yon home, sure," Danny an-
swered, gallantly.
They had lei't the tenements, and were walking up
Roosevelt Street, when a man standing by a lamp-post
stared at Danny, and then exclaimed :
"Oh. you little rascal! I've caught yon at last! Come
along home with me," and he grabbed the boy roughly by
the shoulder.
463
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
DANNY DISCOMFITS THE ASSAILANT.
It was Danny's uncle. " You've got fine clothes, and are
with a tine lady, while your poor old uncle who had always
given you a good honest home is starving," lie exclaimed.
Some men who bad been lounging aljout the corner rau
up, and Cahill declared over and over to them that his
boy had run away from au honest home, and should lie
taken back and help to support his old uncle, who was sick.
Danny, who had a notion that his uncle really had some
sort of right over him, was sick and disheartened at the
prospect of going hack to his old life, but he had had his
liberty too long to be willing to give it np without a strug-
gle. He was a stout youngster; his constant exercise as a
messenger-boy kept him in good physical condition, and he
made a good resistance to his uncle's efforts to drag him
away.
As he was struggling, Miss Barstow ran to him and ask-
ed, " Is this the man you told me of — your uncle?"
" Sure ; dis is de mug, and he's no good," Danny answer-
ed, as he fought.
" Let that boy go," she said to Cahill, sternly.
"Not for you," responded Cahill, surlily.
Miss Barstow stepped to where the light fell on her face,
and turning to the crowd of men, said: "Some of you must
know me. I want yon to make that man let this boy go."
"It's Miss Barstow," one of the men exclaimed. Then
he added, "What you say goes down here, lady, mostly,
but not in this case. Cahill has a right to the boy's
wages. He's a good man, and the kid ain't going to get
no harm by going along with him."
Miss Barstow's knowledge of this
class taught her that the men had
all been drinking, and she knew that
the situation was serious. She had
often been warned that she was in
danger of just such experiences as
this, but until now had been saved
from danger by the respect that the
tenement people felt for her. But
these were not even tenement peo-
ple of the lowest kind. They be-
longed to the class of idlers who
skulked about the saloons in that
neighborhood at night, and begged
during the day. As she was debat-
ing what she should do, Danny
managed to trip his uncle hard and
break away from him. He rau to
Miss Barstow, snatched her umbrel-
la from her hand, jumped h 'tween
her and the man, and told her to
run. One of the half-drunken men
lurched toward Danny, but sudden-
ly halted when Danny brought the
silver head of the umbrella down on
the fellow's head with a whack.
That was more than he expected,
and while they stood irresolute
Danny and Miss Barstow hurried
away, Danny keeping between her
and the enemy, swinging the um-
brella threateningly. They reach-
ed the elevated-road station with-
out further molestation, and Danny
then found to his surprise that the
woman who had been so brave
while there was any danger was
now white and trembling, and nigh
to fainting.
"It was not that I was afraid,"
she said, " but it shows me that
there is danger for me down there,
and that I must give up my night
work there."
" Why, lady," said Danny, " I taut
it was a picnic ; anyway it was good
fun when I cracked dat mug's nut
wid dis umbrella. He'll know he
was in a tight to-morrow."
Danny went to Miss Barstow's door with her, and thought
that would be the last he would hear of the adventure.
Three days later, while he was sitting in the messenger
office, a man called ou him, who explained that he was the
lawyer for Miss Barstow's society which supported the
Tenement Mission. He had had Cahill and the men who
had been with him that night arrested, and Danny was
wanted as a witness against them in the Police Court.
"And now," said the lawyer, when he had explained
about the arrest, "tell me all you can about yourself, and
your relations with Cahill. Miss Barstow tells me that
Cahill may have some legal right to your wages, and if he
has we want to give you another guardian. What would
you think of me as your guardian ?"
Danny did not know what sort of a thing a guardian
might be, and the lawyer explained. It was Miss Barstow's
wish, he added, that Danny should have a proper legal
guardian, and he would look into the matter, and do all
that was necessary to protect Danny's rights.
So it came about, after Danny had signed a lot of legal
papers, and there had been a lot of petitions and motions,
that one day Danny was told that the law had taken notice
of such an unimportant little chap as he was, and Miss Bar-
stow's agent had become his guardian, and Uncle Cahill
had no claim on Danny's liberty or his modest little ac-
count in the Bowery Savings-bank. Danny's comment was :
" I never taut I'd get to be such a swell mug as to have
a guardeen all by me lonely. De first ting you know I'll
be runnin' for President."
46-1
5INTERSCHOIfASTIC$
rTIHE ACTION OFTHE iNTKRSCHOLASTic Athletic Association
X in passing the law prohibiting bicycle-races at all fu-
ture iu-door meetings held under the rules of the I.S.A. A.
cannot be too highly commended. It was, of course, the logi-
cal outcome of the occurrences of the past four months, but
nevertheless the promptness with which the evil was abol-
ished is praiseworthy'. Bicycle-races as an in-door s|>ort
should be universally done away with. What games in
the past season have not been marred by accidents and
collisions in that event? The culmination was the carry -
iu» away of W. G. Dunn iu an ambulance after he hail
broken his collar-bone at the Brooklyn Poly. Prep, games
last March. It is to be hoped, now that the good work
has been begun, that in the near future some of the other
peculiar features of iu-door meetings will receive proper
attention at the hands of the legislators. I do not believe
that Olympian Zeus — or whatever enlightened heathen
god it was who invented and fostered track athletics —
ever intended that sprints and shot-putting should be held
under a roof. He surely would have drawn the line at
bicycles, had lie known anything about them. He wisely
preferred the less-murderous four-horse chariot. But, to
my mind, track athletics were never intended as an iu-door
sport. The gymnasium is not a hippodrome. But more
of that later. Let us be thankful for one thing at a time.
I AM NOT OPPOSED to what some timid people call "rough
and dangerous" sport. Football should be encouraged, by
all means, although it may justly be termed "rough and
dangerous" for young men who do not know how to play.
It is not dangerous for those who do know the game and
have been trained to take part in it. Yet under no circum-
stances is it a sport adaptable to evening clothes and kid
gloves. If it were, we should not care for it as we do.
But bicycle-racing — and I am speaking now essentially of
in-door racing on a flat floor — is just as dangerous for ex-
perts as it is for the ignorant and the novice. More so, per-
haps; for a novice's timidity will protect him from any at-
tempt at riding through an iron girder. The dim light of
an armory makes it difficult for a rider to judge angles and
distances, especially when the track he is circling is marked
solely by a chalk line on a slippery floor. In an open field,
on a cinder track well rolled and well fenced, it is a very
different matter. Should a rider fall there, his injuries are
limited to a few scratches at the worst, and surgical assist-
ance is unnecessary in such a case. As to sprinting and
putting the shot on a board floor, these events are more in-
congruous than harmful. And if custom has made them
popular as in-door sports, I am willing to defer to the dic-
tum of Custom, until Experience shall step iu aud pro-
nounce her verdict.
ANOTHER GOOD ROLE ADOPTED at this same meeting of
the I. S. A. A. was that proposed by Syme of Barnard,
to prevent, when possible, two boys from the same
school starting iu the same trial heat. It is, unfor-
tunately, not uncommon for two boys from the same
school to deliberately pocket a rival runner, especially
iu events like the 220, the half-mile, aud the mile. Such
practices are beneath the dignity of amateurs, aud it is
somewhat of a disgrace that any rule should be required
to prevent it. But if the managers were forced to recog-
nize this unsportsmanlike tendency on the part of even a
few contestants, it is to their credit that they adopted mea-
sures to put a stop to it. Nothing in sport to-day is more
important than to maintain a broad and honest spirit of
fair play, for without such a spirit interscholastic athletics,
and every other kind of athletics, are bound to deteriorate.
WIIII.K SPEAKING OK THIS, I am reminded of rumors cur-
rent in Brooklyn to the effect that cue of the schools in the
Long Island Interscholastio League has secured track ath-
letes and baseball players by ollering them half tuition, and
in one case free tuition, as an inducement to attend that
particular institution. This is a very ugly story, and
should not be credited unless very positive proof of its ve-
racity can be adduced. The only ground for the rumors,
that I have been able to discover so far, is that the indi-
viduals in question attended other schools last year. But
that fact, is by no means sufficient to warrant the asser-
tion, or even the insinuation, that the change they made
was influenced by a financial consideration. If the report
is unfounded, it is almost as reprehensible a:i offence against
honest sportsmanship to circulate it as to be guilty of the
dishonest practices alleged. As the matter stands now,
there is uo doubt that somebody — either the school in
question, or the other members of the league — is suffering
under an injustice.
THERE AKE JUST TEN DAYS for practice left before the
Intel-scholastics. The many school games of the past two.
weeks have shown that there is much new material in the
field, and that it will not be so easy to pick the winner of
the championship as might have been supposed earlier in
the season. The struggle for supremacy promises to be
more interesting tuis spring than ever, and I have little
doubt that several records will be considerably bettered.
Barnard, of course, w ill make a desperate endeavor to carry
oft' the honors of the day, and thus secure a full title to the
Intel-scholastic Cup. This school will be represented by a
THE NEW YORK INTERSCHOLASTIC CUP.
strong team, which gives good promise of equalling the
record of last year's champions, although three of those
1894 point-winners are not back this year. Of the 38 points
465
HARPER'S BOUND TABLE
which won tlie (lay for Barnard last May, lingers made 16;
Simpson, 6; and Feigenspan, 1 — in all 23, or almost two-
tliinls of the total victorious score. Thus, it victory perches
on the Harlem banners next week, it will lie din- in a large
measure to the development and acquisition of new ma-
terial.
AT THE SKMIAXNTAL FiKi.D DAY of the Academic Ath-
letic League of the Pacilic Coast, held at the' Olympic Cliil)
Grounds. San Francisco, <>ii March Kith hist, the Oakland
High-School and the Berkeley High-School, with o'J poinls
each to its credit, tied for first place, and the champion-
ship was consequently awarded to the former for having
been the winner the previous year. The struggle, as may
well he imagined, was a close and exciting one throng In ml.
there heiug no event, except perhaps tbe shot, hammer, and
mile run, that was not hotly contested to the end. The
( I.H.-S. has Vieeu the Coast champion for sixteen years past,
and if Cheek, the captain of the team, had entered this
the O.H.-S sprinter. He is slow at starling, hut his endur-
ance is such that he has been known to do 50 yards iu 6£
seconds on a dirt track, then walk back to the start, get ou
his mark and repeat the performance; ami do this again a
third ami fourth time. He took the 220 in 2."i! seconds,
without being pushed, but came in a foot behind Lipp-
mann, B.H.-S., in the 100 on account of his .slowness in get-
ting away from the mark. In the field events tin- B.H.-S.
walked away with everything, taking all the points in the
hammer and shot events. They got first iu the broad. jump
and pole vault, and tied for the high jump. In the ham-
mer, Lynch, B.H.-S.. threw 104 feet and won. and was going
to try for a record, when the attention of the judges, for
some reason, was distracted by the exciting Relay race,
and so Lynch lost his chances and his rights. He is said
to have done 1-J.~) feet in practice. On the whole the day
was a notable success, and the scholars of California showed
themselves sportsmen of the true stripe in the enthusiasm
and energy which characterized the occasion.
COMPARATIVE T.U5LE OF NEW YORK AND SAX FRANCISCO INTERsriIOI.ASTK MEETINGS.
Brent.
i. s. A A. <;• •-<
>ew Y.irk,
it the Bti'K.-l. ' '•• il,
A. A. I-. '• -i '
San !• i-:m- i-' 0,
vmpic Club Grounds,
March 16, IS'Ja.
Winner
Performance,
Winner.
Performnnce.
1 0 2-5 s
1 1 1 4-5 8
H-infunl
25 1-5 g
1 0 2-5 •<
19 1-4 s
Syme
27 1-5 s
31 1-2 <*
2 m. 10 1-5 s
Rnea
2 m. I'u •_'-.', *
Veiller
5 in 5 1-2 s
5ft. 9 in
5 ft 3 in
( Baltiizzi \
19 " 5 "
Lloyd
18 " 6 "
\Vhitin-y
10 "
9 " 2 "
Lloyd
32 " S "
Ball
39 " 1 "
Ball
110 " 3 1-2 "
Lloyd
104 " ^ "
year.no doubt I he score would have been very different.
Cheek is a .promising all-round athlete. In addition to
vaulting and jumping lie puts the shot 33 feet, throws the
hammer over 100 feet, runs the 100 iu 11 seconds, gets over
the high hurdles in 171 seconds, and the low hurdles-in 28
seconds. The reason given for his non-entry into these
sports is that his team was so much stronger than that of
any of the other schools in the league, that the O.H.-S. pre-
ferred to contest the games without his aid. and so decide
the day by a lew points only. This experiment proved a
most risky one. If the B.H.-S. had won tin- IJelay race, they
would have taken the championship by the score of 55 to
4--*. Such a self-sacrificing and eminently sporting spirit
as Cheek's is something 1 have not yet observed in the
East. The- rules governing the contests of the A.A.L. are
somewhat different from those of other leagues. The team
of ( -ich school is limited to seven boys, and six more are al-
lowed to enter for the IJelay race, which counts as au extra
event, and gives 10 points to the winner, (i points to scc-
I. and 2 to third. There1 is some advantage in this lim-
itat ion. but 1 should think that in many eases it would op-
erate unjustly. Nevertheless, it is a great preventer of that-
worst feature of our Eastern track-athletic' games — count-
less trial heats necessitated by unlimited and unrestricted
entries.
THE HIGH iintDi.F.s were the occasion for a hot struggle
between Dawson, O.H.-S., and Hoppiu, B.H.-S. Dawsou had
never run the full course before, and this was only his fifth
attempt at clearing the sticks, but he ran well and breast-
ed the tape in 191 seconds, with Hoppin at his heels. In
the first heat of the low hurdles Hoppin won in l.ili sec-
onds. Dawsou fell at the seventh, but picked himself up
quickly and finished, thus qualifying for tin- finals, which
lie won iii 31-J seconds, with Hoppin third. Dawson will
no doubt improve greatly within the, next year, and I con-
fidently look forward to see him smash some Coast records.
He takes the hurdles without the suggestion of an effort,
and although only 5 feet 5 inches tall, he gets in the1 seven
steps without any trouble. He trained for the half-mile
earlier in the spring, and so attained good endurance. An-
other boy with this quality strongly developed is Hanford,
IT IS IXTEliESTIXG TO
note the records made ou
this occasion, and to place
them alongside of the per-
formances of our Eastern
scholars. The accompany-
ing table will show that,
even with almost a year's
advantage in the compari-
son, the Californians are be-
hind the New-Yorkers in
every event. In many
events, of course, the records
of both leagues are better
than i lie performances made
on these two specific oc-
casions; but the comparison goes only to show that
in a contest between Eastern and Western schools,
could such a one he arranged, there would be but lit-
tle doubt this year as to the probable winners. Per-
haps some day such a meeting may be brought about.
What might be called the lirst step in that direction has
already been taken by the California State I'niversity
team, which is coming East next month to take part in
the Intercollegiate games at Molt Haven. In a year or so
tin I'aciiic coast schools may get up enthusiasm and enter-
prise enough to follow the example of the college men and
seek new laurels iu the East.
IT is POSSIBLE THAT the universal interest in track and
field sport.-, which has so rapidly developed iu the last two
years. \\ ill prove harmful to baseball and tennis. Already
I have heard several complaints from captains of nines
that it is difficult to get candidates to come out and try for
positions ou the team, because almost every boy who has
any ambition for athletic honors is ruuuiug or jumping, or
otherwise training his muscles that he may take part iu
contests which otter material reward for success. In other
words, gold, silver, and bronze medals are more tempting
than a proprietary interest in a champion pennant. If it
is true that an appreciable number of boys go into track
athletics not for the- sport, but for the medals, the, sooner
medals are done away with the better. But it does not
seem possible that this can be so. It is more probable that
baseball and tennis have been superseded, to a certain ex-
tent, by track and field sports because of the nature of the
latter. A boy can go out and run or jump or put the shot
all by himself at almost any time of the day. But he can-
not go into au open field and play baseball with himself,
nor can he go to a tennis-court and play tennis with him-
self. In one case he must secure one opponent at least, and
in the other he must gather a dozen or more companions.
To be sure, these objections are not very valid in New York,
but I have no doubt the charm of individuality has tempted
a good many boys to indulge in track sports. If baseball
and tennis have suffered thereby it is all the more reason
why baseball and tennis enthusiasts should strive by every
means in their power to organize good nines and train good
466
irS ROUND TABLE
tennis-players — for it is an unhealthy tree
that puts all its vitality into oue branch.
THERE is TALK or CHANGING the constitu-
tion of the New England I.S.A.A. in order
to allow Scholars o\er tv>ent\-one years of
e in compete- ill game's he-Id under the
rules of that association. Tin- .subject \\ill
be brought up for discussion and probably
lleeideil at 1 lie i nee I ing' to lie held ill Huston
day after to-iiun row. May 'M. The motion
s] inn Id be iinrondil ion ally defeated, and the
eonsi i! iiiiiin lefr nnaltereil. Except for
very iiiiiisual reasons, a man twenty-one
years old has no business being in school.
He ought lo In- at work or in college. If,
however, he si ill lingers about the school-
room, there is no reason why special laws
should 1 nacted for his benefit. He de-
sen cs to be discriminated against. Be-
sides, there arc probably not more than half
a do/.eii men of that aye in all the schools
of the Xe\v Knglaud League, and these can
certainly spend their tune to better advan-
tage in studying than at tbot-racing and
jumping. It is unfair to allow grown men
to en i e-r into competition with younger men,
and I earnestly hope- thai those who con-
trol the policy of the X.K. I.S.A.A. will real-
ize this, and unceremoniously shut the men
out.
AT Till'. Axxr.u, ix-nooi? meeting of the
New England I.S.A.A., held in Boston last
month, there were ;!42 entries, representing
thirty preparatory schools. This would
seem to show that there is even more inter-
est in track athletics in Boston than there is
in New York-. The, result of the meeting
was most sal isfaetory, inasmuch as live rec-
ords were broken, one was equalled, and a
new record was established. The team
race's w ere a new feat lire, and as rival schools
•re- purposely matched against one au-
othcr, the contests pn>\ed most interesting
and exciting. The Worcester High-School
managed tei retain the championship e>t
the A<siii-iati»n by scoring 19 points; the
Won-esler Academy took second place with
; points. This prowess was not relished or
appreciated by the boys of the Boston
schools, who are not by any means anxious
to seethe- pennant float, over any city but the
Hub; yet it has been evident for some time
that any one who wants to defeat these
Worcester school-boys will have to get up
very early in the morning and travel re-
markablv fast. THE (IKADUATE.
t
STAMPS
'his Department is coinlm-ted in the interest '.f stamp collectors,
and the Editor will be pleased to answer any qntjtion on the subject
so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor Stamp De-
SIXCE Tim DISCOVKKV of the variety of
the twelve -cent United States stamp il-
lustrated last we-e-k. many collectors have-
sought to find other varieties in the same
issm-.t limiting that if a m-\v plate was made
for the twelve cents it was likely that other
new ones were engraved for different val-
ues. Thus far no further discoveries have
1 n made.
THKOXK. TWO, live, a ml ten cent values of
the ne-w I'nite-il States newspaper stamps
have thus far been issued.
I.\ TIII-: three-cent stamp of the 1S57 issue,
the •• Outer Line" variety consists of a line
line running all around I lie- stamp. Each of
the stamps lias a line on the side, luit in
the- variety an additional line line appears
a I lent 1 1 tin1 tn|> and bottom, the pcrl'oi a I inn
s 'lime's ele-strening one of them. The
eiutiT - line \arie-ty is not as searce as the-
prii-e- .HIM-II would indicate.
THE me, n VAI.I-KS of I'nited State's en-
velopes are now a tiling of the past, the
department no longer printing any value
lii^lie-r I han li M- ce-nts mi the envelopes.
MANY SIA.MI- I'\I-I:KS say that only the
one. two. and three cent values of the new
liostagc'-siamps have- be-e-n issued ami print-
eel, iml the ten lias also been sent out.
IT wori.D NOT I:K M Ki'iasixe; to many
c-olleclois if the- current issue of I'nited
States .stamps. \\ hicli were first printed b\
the Bun-au of Kii^iaviug, should be cata-
logued as a separate issue before many \ ears,
there lie-in;; many points of difference be-
tween those first put out and what the
bureau is now printing. The colors, per-
foration, ami gum are now much superior tei
the- first printings, and smaller things than
t IK-SI- ha\e caused stamps to lie separately
catalogued.
AxuTllKl: e;ri'siTii\ that puzzles many
collectors is the difference between ivood-
i-n^i-a\ed and tyiiographed stanqis. Ty]io-
graphed means set and printed from type, so
the' I 'nit <'d State-* officially sealed stamps of
this variety are printed with regular type,
while the lithographed are printed Imm
stone's, tlie- designs being engraved, anil thus
faiie'y and very different from the type-set,
si amp.
A NEW STAMP TAI-KI; will shortly be issued
Ireim Muslim. It will have a good financial
backing, and it is expected to he one of tliei
leading publications in the philatelic line.
SIM i mi: I.A.-T catalogue added the va-
rieties of I'lllte-el State's stamps on ribbed
paper, it has caused collectors to hunt for
them, but probably \\ith little success, as
they are very scarce. Kibbed paper is a va-
riety of wove-, having lines running up or
down or across, and showing on the back
of stamp.
Highest of all in Leavening Power. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Baking
Powder
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PURE
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MONARCH
King of all Bicycles.
TRADE-MARK.
Five Styles. Weights, 18 to 25 Pounds.
I'riccK, $85 and $1OO.
MONARCH CYCLE CO.
Factory andMainOffice.Lakeand HalstedSts. Chicago
Eastern Branch: 97-99 Reade St.. New York.
The C. F. GryoN' Co., Ltd., Managers.
467
\ Kombi
I Camera
I $3.50
5 SMALLEST CAMERA MADE
1 Carry it in your pocket. Size I5a x2 in. TVeight4oz.|
7 takes 2a pictnrea with one loading. Made of seamless,
J metal, oxidized silver finish. Size of picture 1 in. sq.,
• ine simplest camera made. Any boy or girl can use it. i
V fcvery instrument fully guaranteed. Not a toy, but a!
n practical camera. THE KOMBI complete. $3.50. Roll '
Oof film UoexpoBures) 2U cts. extra. We develop your!
2 negatives if desired. Illustrated Booklet Free.
, Alfred C. Kemper, Mnfr., 208 Lake St., Chicago*
4 BRANCHES— LONDON: 36 Oiford-st.,W. «
l^^^»^»f&S!ilSS!&&SSSS&S^
, PUZZLE PURSE.
AflrBt-elasKiiiorncco pnrsp with nirkel frame
and clasp. Can't lie opened without the secret;
worth 25c. as a purse and $5.00 as a "braki
cracker." As sample of our looo Bargains we
mail it postpaid with lar^e Catalogue for lOc.
INOERSOLL & BRO, 65 CORTLANLT ST. N. Y. CITY,
NESS & HEAD NOISES CURED
t'.v "'V INVISIBLE Tubular Cushions. Have helped
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HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
MAP OF NEW YOKKiCITY
SHOWING ASPHALTED AND
MAC ADAM IZKD STREETS.
-t^™ Asphalt or Macadam.
ama/aaa Unpaved poor Streets.
\ 1,1 ) Numbers referring to Table
1. Old Road out of New York.
2. Washington Bridge.
3. Hif;h Bridge.
4. Mucombs Dam Bridge.
5. Astoria Ferry.
6. Long Island Ferry.
7. Greenpoint Ferry.
9.' Gmia St. tindli'dw'y Ferries.
10. Catherine Street Ferry.
11. Brooklyn Uridge.
12. Kulton Ferry.
13. W,,I1 Street "Ferry.
14. South Ferry.
15. New Jersey Central Ferry.
16. Pavonia Ferry.
17. Pennsylvania Railroad Ferrv.
18. D. L. and W. Ferry.
19. Fourteenth Street Ferry.
20. Erie Ferrv.
21. Weehawkra Ferry.
22. Fort Lee Ferry.
BICYCLING
interest of Bicyclers, anil the Editor will be pleased to
inquiries regarding the League of Amel'
This department is conducted in thi
answer any question on the subject, hi
Wheelmen", so far ns possible. Coi respondents should address Editor Bicycling Departij
THIS DEPARTMENT WILL, so far as possible, publish maps
and descriptions of various bicycle routes in the viril-
ity of different important cities in America.
THE MAP THIS WEEK is of New York city. It shows at
once just what can be done with a bicycle in New York, what
are the best ways of getting out of the city, and where
the best streets for wheeling are through its whole length.
Most of the black roads are of asphalt pavement, but of
course the Riverside Drive, West Seventy-second Street,
and the long avenues above the Park, as well as those in
the Park, are of macadam. It will pay wheelmen, or boys
and girls who expect to be wheelmen or wheelwomen soon,
to tear out this page and keep it for reference, for by care-
ful study it will show how to avoid pavement, so far as
possible, in getting from one part of the city to another.
To BEGIN WITH THE East Side below Fourteenth Street.
The wheelman's object must be to get. to Second Avenue as
directly as possible. He should then go up Second Avenue,
which is asphalted to Twenty-second Street, turn east into
Lexington, and go np the latter to Thirty-second Street.
Hero is the beginning of Murray Hill, and the asphalt stops.
He has two blocks to ride on Lexington, and then turning
west he has half an avenue block uphill to Park Avenue
and Thirty - fourth Street. From here he has almost a
clear asphalted or macadamized road out of New York.
He turns through to Madison Avenue on any street from
Thirty -four to Fortieth, goes down the paved hill be-
tween Forty-first and Forty-second streets on Madisou
Avenue, and then keeps on the latter till he turns through
Fifty-eighth Street, crosses Fifth Avenue, and if a dry day
enters the Park, or if too soon after rain passes west up
Fifty-ninth Street.
SUPPOSE IT HAS RAINED RECENTLY. The bicycler keeps
to Fifty -ninth Street, till he reaches the Boulevard at
Eighth Avenue. He should then take the right side of the
Boulevard going out till he reaches Ninety-sixth Street,
when he must cross to the left side, owing to the fact that
the Boulevard is as yet only paved on tlie west side from
here out. At 108th Street the asphalt stops, and he must
either go through that street to the Riverside Drive or keep
on the Boulevard, which frous here to 125th Street is in bad
condition, awaiting asphalt pavement. If he takes the
drive lie should turn cast and go down a very steep but
short hill on 122d Street, just opposite Grant's Tomb, into-
the Boulevard, and as soon as he comes to 125th Street a
long and pretty steep hill confronts him. It is not difficult,
however, if taken slowly, since the macadam is good, and
the hill a steady incline. At- 154th Street, which is as-
phalted,he should turn east to St. Nicholas Avenue, which
is better here than below, though the macadam is old.
Keeping on St. Nicholas Avenue he soon comes into the
Boulevard again at 168th Street, whirh is here called Kings-
bridge Road, and is newly macadamized. By making this
slight detour at 155th Street the rider avoids going down
the hill back of Trinity Cemetery, and up another bud one
on the Boulevard. If he is going up the Hudson he should
turn east at ISlst Street, through a bad two hundred yard*
of the latter, cross the Harlem on Washington Bridge, (2),
and turn north into Featherbed Lane. This is necessary, be-
cause the Kingsbridge Road at the foot of the hill, which
begins at 181st Street, is in a very bad condition as far as
Spuyteu Duyvil.
ON THE WEST SIDE of the city downtown it is the rider's
first object to get to Eighth Avenue as directly as possible.
He then has a clear course out. Starting from the Grand
Central Station, a good seven-mile ride is to go, as already
-111-
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
described, up the Boulevard to 106th Street,
then tnrn cast to the Park, and come back
to the Plaza. On a dry day one of the most
beautiful, perhaps the. most beautiful, ten-
mile ride in America is from the (irand
Central, as described, to the Plaza, thence
through the Park to West Seventy-second
Street to Riverside Drive, by Grant's Tomb
to C'laremout, at the end of the Drive, and
back, turning east through 10ft.Ii Street to
Boulevard to 106th Street, thence east to
the Park, and so down.
This department is conducted in the interest of Girls mi. I Y..H.H:
Womtri, und the Editor will be pleased to answer any qiit~n.ii mi
the subject BO far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.
WHILE we are discussing our favorite
books, I want to tell you something about.
the treasury of rich and rare literature
which you and I and everybody may be free
of iu opening tlte covers of our Bibles.
Is it your habit, dear child, to read a few
verses or a chapter of the best of books ev-
ery day, perhaps before you leave your room
iu the morning, or before you go to bed at
night? Have you your very own Bible,
and do you keep it in your room, and ju>t
•where you can easily put your hand upon
it? Each of us should have IHT own Bible,
for this is not a book to share with others.
If we are studying a foreign language we
should have, in addition to our English Bi-
ble, a French or German or Italian Bible,
a Bible in the language we are trying to
learn, and by reading in it every day \vc
will greatly add to our vocabulary, and find
ourselves rapidly growing used to the looks
and souuds of the most familiar words.
No single book in the world has so many
interesting features as the Bible, partly be-
cause it is a library or collection of books
iu itself, written by many different authors,
in different periods of the world. The Old
Testament, which some people neglect, is
full of the most exciting and beautiful
stories. There is the story of Job, out- of
the very oldest in literature, telling how
this :' man in the laud of Uz had seven thou-
sand sheep, and three thousand camels, and
five hundred yoke of oxen, and a very great
household, and was the greatest of all the
men of the East." By a series of calamities,
robbers, lires, earthquakes, and cyclones, Job
lost all his wealth, in the twinkling of an
eye; and then follow a wonderful series of
chapters in which he and his three friends
and the Lord God, "out of a whirlwind," dis-
cuss the situation. There are the stories
of David and Saul, of David and Goliath, of
David and Jonathan, of David and Absalom;
indeed the whole history of David is a suc-
cession of amazing stories most spleudidly
told. Coming dowu front David are the
stories of Solomon aud the great temple he
built, "a mountain of snow aud gold"; and
then we have the narratives of Nehemiah
and Ezra; of Daniel and his wonderful life;
of the three friends who were thrown into
a fiery furnace, but stepped out unhurt ; of
many others whom I cannot mention here.
Long before David's days we find the beau-
tiful story of Ruth ; and we have the story
of little Samuel, and of Samuel grown to be
a man and a prophet. We have in the Old
Testament the histories of Elijah and of
Elisha. of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
I SIMPLY cannot endure the thought that
any of my girls are to be ignorant of the
charm of the Old Testament. I want them
to feel as I do about the "mountains of
Gilboa," and the "dew of Hermou," and the
fastnesses ofMoab; I want them to know
Eilom and Philistia and Salem and Tyre
and Sidon and the cedars of Lebanon. And
I don't want them ever to go fumbling and
stumbling around through the Bible, not
knowing where to find their places, peering
about after Second Kings iu Deuteronomy,
and looking for the Psalms and the Proverbs
away over in Mnlachi. Learn the order of
the books, my dears, and fix it in your minds
by often reading the Bible, just as you
would read any other book, only with the
feeling that it will give you an amount of
pleasure and profit that no other book can.
There are, of course, many books based upon
the Bible, and among them are such vol-
umes as li'ible Stones for tlie Young, published
by Harper & Brothers, a very attractive lit-
tle hook to lie beside- your Bible.
A GOOD CHILD
is usually healthy, and both conditions are developed
by use of proper food. The Gail Borden Eagle lit and
Condensed Milk is the best infant's food; so easily
prepared that improper feeding is inexcusable and un-
necessary.— [A ilv. ]
No Secret About It.
Physicians have had the form-
ula of Scott's Emulsion for 20
years and know they can always
depend upon it as being exactly
the same. It contains the purest
Norway Cod-liver Oil, the best
Hypophosphites and chemically
pure Glycerine, made into a per-
fect Emulsion that does not sep-
arate or grow rancid like other
so-called Emulsions. There have
been many things presented as
substitutes, but there is nothing
that can take its place in Con-
sumption and all wasting dis-
eases.
Don't be ptrsvaded to accept a substitute !
Scott & Bowne, N. Y. All Druggists. 50c. and$1.
Awarded
Highest Honors — World's Fair.
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Tarrant's Effervescent Seltzer Aperient.
The most valuable family remedy for
Disordered Stomach
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go cents and $1.00. All Druggists.
TAHRANT & Co., Chemists, N. Y.
Postage Stamps,
ino all dif.Vene7.nela, Costa Rica, etc., only
loo.; 200 all dit.Hayti, Hawaii, etc., only BOc.
Ag'tRwanledatCOnerct.com. List FREE!
C.A.SteKniaiin,'27l-'SEadsAv.,St.Louis,Mo.
var., all dit., 5c.; 12 var. Heligoland,
,^_ 16c.; 6 var. Italy, 18SS to 1862. So.; 3 var.
v"t ,%c • ;ir»var. C American, Bflc. Agenta wanted.
F. W. ii 1 1. 1. IK, 904 Olive St., St. Louis, Mo.
all different, Chilli), etc., lOc.; 5 Saxony, lOc.;
40 Spain, 40c.; 6 Ttinta, 14c.; 10 U. S. liev-
rmu's, toe. Afjts. wtd., 50X com.; '95 list free.
CRITTENDEN & BORGMAN CO.. Detroit, Mich.
100
PUZZLE PENKNIFE, 7Oc.
15 varieties: to all sending for
_ approval sheets 50 % commission.
RefefeiTces required. FRANK W. ALDEN.Waterville, Me.
rnrr S Japan and India Stamns,2c.: 100 all different,
|" hLL lOc : 6 Sardinia, 5c.; S Samoa, lOc.
J. A. WILSON. 1108 Fairmount Ave., Phila., Pa.
Approval Sheets at S0;{ dis>.; seud at once.
OHIO STAMP CO., Carthage, Ohio.
POSTAGE DUES.— 50c. brown, 3flc. red, 90c. each; the
two for |1. 75. Diamond stamp l'o.,tierniiiutoiTii, Pa.
OTAMDC Catalogue value $5, 3oc. ; List. 2c.
O I MlVIrO Old ColoiiyStampCo.,Plainville,Miiss.
_•&& .Sen 1 -.- stamp for Sample Book of all the FINEST end
PADnV LU'l>T s.vl.i in II,..J|,.,1 K.k-... Hi.l.h-n N.im... Silk
llMnUO Frino* Envelope ana Calling CABJ>SFOIUS95. WESEU.
UEMUINE'UIDS.NOT'TIIASH. UNION CARD CO.,Columbu», Ohio,
BEST
. s the butlon and it opens. Worth £5c. asa knife and 85 O'IM
otii-.-'.o. A eample ofourlOOO Bargains, mailed postpaid withC?t. f..r Ktr.
KOUT. H, l.XUKRSOLL & BRO, Co CVUTUSDT ST.K. Y. HIV,
469
WISER THAN A WIZARD.
A. Kore Combination of \utnral lll-tnry. Fwltv-lorc. Charade, nud Rlihlle, with IVlzc* to those who I nravel Most of the Forty Queer 4|iie«tlong.
ONOE there live 1 a very wicked King, a brother of the original Blue-
beard.1 lie had an ouly daughter called Minnehaha.2 She \v:i^ a very
obedient girl in every respect save one — she would not hearken to the
suit of Harry Hotspur,3 whom her father had determined f-he must
marry- Continuing in her refusal, her father threatened to imprison
her in the Plenty Perplexing Puzzle Palace, known as the Four Pi's,4
the residence of the English Merliu.5 Finally a compromise was effected
— the princess wus to marry that man, be he prince or beggar, who should
present a query to the King's Wizard which he could not answer. If,
however, the Wizard did answer correctly, the propouuder of the query
was to lose his head.
All the details being fixed, a baud of naturalists on their way to the
Island of ihe Moon6 stopped to try their fortunes. In turn they asked
for the edible English philosopher,7 the species of mollusk that is used
in all printing-offices, a the bird that is always in evening dress,9 the
bird 10 that sometimes brings corns on your feet, the animal that cannot
say no,11 the insect that fills the new Boston Public Library to the num-
ber of many thousands,12 and the fish13 that everybody seeks after. As
the Wizard replied to all correctly, he chopped, off the heads of the
questioners. Then Dick the Scholar '* arrived, and demanded the Story
of Molorchos.15 As soon as ihe story had been related, Dick's head fol-
lowed the others into the basket. Next came the Knight of the Lions,16
singing:
"A hundred and fifty if rightly applied
To a place where the living did once all abide —
» Or a consonant joined to a sweet-singing bird-
Will give you a mime that you've oftentimes heard,
Which 'rnong your friends at least one person owns;
It's ;i rival of Grey, and as common as Jones.''*7
The Wizard was wise.
A quartet of historians now made their appearance; they asked,
respectively, for the statesman 1S who has ahvay* hceii a thorn in the
side of Americans; the Colonial general 19 who might have been used
to close the Revolution; the American poet20 whose month was larger
than his head ; and the New England doctor -1 for which the city of Phil-
adelphia is famed.
Once more the King's agent triumphed. Next came the most learn-
ed-= of all the Romans, who asked for Molly Maguires.23 "Yon are
only tit to wear a steeple-crowned hat,"24 said the wise man when he
had given the required explanation, " but I will be lenient with yon."
Just now a beautiful song is heard. It is snug by the Prince of the
Ode,25 and it runs as follows:
"My first makes nil Nature appear with one face,
At my second are music, beamy, and grace;
And if this charade you cannot e'er uues-,—
Throwing my whole at your head, — I'll take the princess-" -6
But he didn't. The princess remained for another. A poor knight
from the Laud of Cakes 27 inquired tor Tom of Lincoln,-9 but lie did not
live long enough to use the information when it was given him. An
arrogant fellow who imagined the princess was his, said, "Tell me, if
yon ran, to whom did the flying tapestry belong ?" 2s That was the last
question tins m;in ever propounded. A tall minstrel, who reminded one
of the Snow King,30 presented this:
"My first we oft lend to each other in turn.
To borrow it would be exceedingly droll;
My next near my first you may often discern.
In my first too, alas ! you perhaps tind my whole." 31
"Tell me where I can tind the Key of Russia ?" 3- inquired a bold
adventurer. The Wizard told him, and, brave as he was, he lost his
head completely.
" I am here to seek the First Gentleman of Europe," 33 said a young
gallant. "You are on the road to him," rejoined the Wizard.
A. jolly old chap, who re.-embU'd the King8* noted for his penman-
ship, walking lip slowly, shonled :
" What insects 3S does ever lunly sleep on ?"
The princess was yet to be won.
Jack-timeud-all 3tl then said, " Who was the first Lady Magistrate ?" 3'
After poor Jack was despatched, there came up the citizen3" of New
Jersey who laid plans to kill King George III., but fired some British
naval stores instead. He said this business of trying to get the prin<r.-s
was coming to be so hazardous that, old as he was, he would have to
be nil owed to ask four questions or none at all. The Wizard agreed
readily.
"Who39 made the first use of steam-power in printing?11 he asked, aud
the Wizard answered promptly.
"In what city40 was tin- first republican government in America
established?" The Wizard agjiin answered promptly-
The man began to lo.ik uruvr. Half his chances were gone. Sum
moning courage, he propounded this : "The name of the wife41 of an
English admiral who tried to get state secrets from an American gen-
tleman by arranging some social games of whist." The Wizard related
the incident, with names of all parties, without an instant's hesitation.
The sweat began to start on the man's face. Ouly one chance remained.
"Name the prince,42 afterwards king of England," said he, desperately,
" whose wife sucked the poi-on from his arm when he had a narrow es-
c;ipe irom assassination while on bis way home from a Crusade."
The Wizard named the prince aud finished the Jerseymau in the
same breath.
Alter that he was without a job for a time. The princess's condi-
tions seemed so hard that, unless she modified them, she was likely, as
the Wizard expressed it, "to die an old maid." He was about to give
the princess np to that fate when Queen Dick43 entered.
" Where do you come from ?"
" From Frisco." 44
" What do you want *?''
"To win the Princess Minuebaha. Answer this:
11 Well, what is it, anyhow ?" asked the Wizard.
"Something that you'll find very prominently printed in a book that
yon and most other people own," replied the suitor.
"Are the letteis printed in the book in this form?" inquired the
Wizard, getting a bit scared, and trying to gain time.
"In this style and order, yes; but there are other letters and words
between them. Come, shall I have the princes*?"
The Wizard took five minutes, and yave it up. Dick won the prin-
cess, and in the bouuieoiisness of his heart invited all the Knights ami
Ladies of the Round Table to vis-it him and see who was wiser than the
Wizard.
It is needless to say where yon can find answers to the foregoing
questions. Of course those that demand animals' names have plays upon
either the meaning or pronunciation of those names. The nicknames
were once generally applied. Where names of persons are wanted there
is, as you scarcely need be told, a double meaning to those names, as,
General Wool — were the name u>ed — mi<_'ht be referred to as the soldier
that everybody wears in winter, etc. The verses are riddles — and very
clever ones. In questions 1, '2, 4, 32,44, etc., explain briefly the meaning
or origin of the numbered word or words. All who have not passed their
ISth birthday are asked to send an answer. Grown people may help you
tind solutions. Make a list of the questions by numbers, giving each a
line and writing one below the other. Do not write ont the story.
Fasten your sheets together. Write your name at the top of the first
sheet. Mail answers on May 10, to HARPER'S KUUNH TAHI.K, New York
— no other address is needed —and put the words Puzzle Answer in the
lower left-hand corner of the envelope. Answers, with prize awards,
will be announced as early as possible, and the prizes forwarded at once.
The prizes are : To the best, $10 in money, and $15, also in money,
divided among a few other best solvers. Excellence consists in correct
answers and correct spelling, but does not refer to penmanship.
Lost Diamond Prize Awards.
TIIK " Lost Diamond " puzzle proved an ideal contest. It was a trifle
difficult, to be sure, but it hail so much information in it that nobody
who failed of a prize had his or her labor for naught. One solver, who
live--' in Pennsylvania, round all the answers save one, and got the first
prize of $10 as his reward. His name is James L. Peqiiignot. A Minne-
sota solver secured the second prize, which in this case is made $:-i.
His name is Eugene T. Hawkins. The balance of the prize money is
divided among the following eight contestants, $1 f>0 to each: Saida N.
aud Frank T. Hallett, of Rhode Island ; John Morion Espey and Eliz-
abeth H. Mcllvaine, of Pennsylvania ; Helen E. Allis, Junius Browne,
aud Russell M. King, of New Yoi k, and J. Lawrence Hyde, of the District
of Columbia.
A wide rang*: was allowed in the answers. Indeed, any answer was
accepted that could be found in the story, and for which authority was
furnished or could be found. All were treated alike in this, and the con-
test rendered slightly easier lor all. Here are answers by numbers:
1. Grammar, logic, rhetoric, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, aud
music. 2. Charles Farrar Browne (Artrni'.is Ward). 3. School; acad-
emy. 4. Edmund March Blunt. 5. Robert Burns. G. " Do Nothing ;"
Louis Fifth. 7. Eliza Cook. S. On the Threshold. 9. George Gule. 10.
Peter Banir. 11- Andrew Bell. 12. Red tape. 13. Alice French (Octnve
Thanet). U. Adolphns Washington Green. 15. Frank Beard. 16. Eliz-
abeth Barrett Browning. IT. Skin and bone; William Mahone. IS.
Cat; Mttrhftli, acl i.. scene 7. 19. Allan \Voodcourt; Bleak House. 20.
Elia's Howe. 21. Balls ; from the coat of arms of the Medici family, the
money loauers of Florence; origin of the three gilt balls over a pawn-
broker's shop. 22. John Knos. *23. The Hermit of Niagara Falls;
drowned while bathing, June, 1831. 24. Private theatricals. 25. Harriet
ISeecher Stowe. 2G. Josiah Gilbert Holland. -27. Helen Hunt Jack-
j-on ; vicinitv ofManiUiu, Col. 2S. Basket; Merry \\'iri'x "f Windsor, act
iii., scene 3; Sir John Falstaff. 2'J. Elizabeth. 30. Steppes. 31. Thomas
Hood. 32. Cape. 33. Task; William Cowper. 34. Gilbert White. 35.
Roger Long. 30. Thoma^ Day. 37. Francis Scott Key. 3S. Lucy Stone.
30.°Mary Berry. ' 40. Joanna Koertnn BIocli. 41. William Black- 42.
James Ruins. 43. House of tfeven Gable*, by Nathaniel Hawthorne.
44. Edward Bird. 45. captain Robert Gray. 46. William and Mary,
AVilliamsburgh, V.1., 1693. 47. Salmon P. Chase. 48 Carpet; apple. 49.
Mr. SmiiL'uin* : Sketches by lloz. SO. A Roundabout Journey : Charles
Dudley Warner. 51. Sir Thomas More: rt<>)>in ; statement made by
Erasmus; also said to 1..- .1 Tidi- "f « Tub, by Jonathan Swift. 52.
Uidgway Knight. 53. John Bright; Hubert 1'eel.
470
HARPER'S KOUND TABLE
TKIlritiiui to tbe IRounO Sable.
S.IMI HSKT EAST, CAPS COLONY, SOUTH AFRICA.
I am going to tell you about Somerset East, the
South African town in which I live. It is snugly
situated at the foot of a large anil pretty moun-
tain called the Bush berg. There are a good many
kloofs or deep ravines in it which are tilled with
bushes. The mountain is a very fine place for pic-
nicking. At the top of each kloof there is a steep
precipice, over which there is a small waterfall.
The town is supplied by the water of one of these
kloofs. It is conducted by pipes to the town. At
one time the mountain was inhabited by leopards,
but they have been driven away. There are a
good many bucks and monkeys which live in the
kloofs.
I should hare told you at first that, this mountain
lies to the north of the town. To the south is the
Fish River. It is only a small river, and has hardly
any water in it except in the rainy season. Now
that I have told you something about Somerset
East, I will tell you something about myself. I
am fourteen years of age. My chief sports are
playing football and cricket. I am also very fond
of shooting, fishing, and swimming. I am also
greatly interested in collecting stamps. I have a
good many varieties in an album, and would be
very glad to exchange stamps with any one who
would write to me. GEORGE D. CHAPLIN.
Please tell us about your fruits, and at what sea-
sou of the year they are ripe. Also about plants,
flowers, and birds common with you.
IRouuO "Sable Chapters.
Here are records of more Chapters:
No. 679. —The Will Carleton, of Downsville, Wis.
John C'assidy, Downsville.
No. 680.— The Captain Charles King Chapter, of
St. Louis. Mo. It is an international correspond-
ing Chapter, and would like members from all for-
eign countries, especially from India, the West In-
dies, Japan. China, and Africa. The initiation is a
coin' or stamp that equals five cents in United
States money. Dues are five cents for thiv
months, in advance. It would like to enroll Cap-
tain Charles King as an honorary member, with
his consent. The president is Henrietta B. \Viilki-r.
of Hendersonville, N. C. Walter Knickman is vice-
president, and Arnold Kruckman is secretary and
treasurer, care of Missouri Pacific Telegraph De-
pa i tinentr, Sixth and Locust streets, St. Louis.
No 081.— The G. A. Henty Chapter, of Cleveland,
O. Officers are F. A. Goodwin, president, and An-
drew Neil, secretary. Other members are Louis
Falkner. Harry Harding. Robert Matthews. Rear
7 Eagle Street, Cleveland.
No. 683 —The Belvidere Chapter, of Daretown,
N. J. Joseph S. Cook, Margaretta E. Paulding,
AJbert D. Paulding, Charles E. Richman. Other
members are Sara C. Clayton, Josephine S. Paul-
ding, and James W. Richmau.
No. 683.— The Granite State Literary Society, of
Concord, N. H. John Leighton, Margarita Rolins.
Edith Freeman. Grace Hood, Morion M. Cheney,
president, 81 North State Street.
No. 684. — The " I. H. N." Chapter, of Winchester,
Mass. Cassie Sands. Edith Richbiirg, Marion Sim-
mouds, Peavl Mai'hiughlin. It meets semi-month-
ly, at the homes of the members, and its object is
to help others and have a good time. Chapter ad-
dress, 25K Myrtle Street.
No. 685.— The Phcenix Amusement Chapter, of
Appleton, Wis. Officers are Benjamin Barrett,
Charles Hattersly, and George Stansburg. Its ob-
ject is the cultivation of literature and social
amusement. It would like to correspond with
other Chapters. 791 Lawrence Street
No. 686.— The Lincoln chapter, of Toledo, O. R
E. Richardson, 519 Congress Street.
IVORY 5 GAP
IT FLOATS
"Wax Yellow," "Light May Green," "Fashionable Brown," and
"Fine Orange" are artificial soap colors, used by manufacturers.
Do you not prefer your soap as you prefer your butter, of good
natural color?
THE PROCTER & GAMBLE Co., C-NTI.
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A ?.'i cpnt package makes 5 eallons. Sold everywhere. ^jj-
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Models
The offer is open to every boy, every girl— to every-
body. Cameras. Air Rifles, Shot-Guns, Tents, Stamp
Collections, etc . m;ty be obtnineil by same easy, pleas-
ant method. Kull purticulars fiee of
ALPHA PUBLISHING CO., 212 Boylston St., Boston, Mass.
HOOPING-COUGH
CROUP.
Roche's Herbal Embrocation.
The celebrated and effectual English Cure without
internal medicine. Proprietors, \V. EDWARD & SON,
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CARD
YOU can make money with it. A font of
. type, also Indelible Ink.Tyw Holder, Pads
and Tneezrrs. Beat Linen Marker; worth *U!U.
Sample mailed FREE for lOe. atnmpa for postage on
J I outfit ami larje catalopue of Ifii.wj BarRains.
K.ll. Jut-- >'M>N .v I'.r... t;., i'ortlundt ESt.N.Y. Cltf
471
the best things in Prose and Poetry, always includ-
ing good Songs and Hymns. It is surprising how
littK- .-?ood work of this kind seems to be done in
the Schools, if one must judge from the small num-
ber of people who can repeat, without mistake or
omission, as many as Three good songs or hymns.
dfoar, Slmrfi, BaStrik
• j * j[ ' t>->
and accurate Memory work is a most excellent
thing, whether in School or out of it. among all ages
and all classes. But let that which is so learned be
worth learning1 and worth retaining. The Franklin
Square Song Collection presents a large number of
and Hymns, in great variety and very carefully
selected, comprising Sixteen Hundred in the Eight
Numbers thus far issued, together with much
choice and profitable Reading Matter relating to
Music and Musicians. In the complete and varied
0t[ G0nlcnbt
which is sent free 011 application to the Publishers,
there are found dozens of the best things in the
World, which are well worth committing to mem-
ory; and they who kiiovy most of such good things,
and appreciate and enjoy them most, are really
among the best educated people in any country.
They have the best result of Education. For above
Contents, with sample pages of Music, address
Harper & Brothers, New York.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Jocko makes a bolt for the woods to escape
a cruel master.
Fimls a nice box which is just the place to
bide in ;
fjfw^i^l
itjV&sbJs1;
-^(EuSb
3 -*
But soon discovers his mi«tak**, to Hie delight And bags what he thiuka a
of Uncle Silas, who finds liis imp sprung, bit.
fine buck rab-
$SA <
^S? ' ~~r, '
Makes a second bolt for liberty,
And so did Silas and Cliloe,
Visions of n savory stew present themselves Which, are about to be realized, when Jocko
as he takes poor Jocko homewards,
PAINTED TO MATCH.
" OUR library is a lovely
room,'' said-Robbie. ''It's paint-
ed green."
"That's to match your papa, I
guess," said Fred. "My papa
says he's the greenest man he
knows."
A NEW BUSINESS.
" WHAT does your daddy do Tor
a living?" asked Benny, whose
father is an author.
" He's a stockbroker," said
Johnny. "What's yours?"
"He's a pen - wiggler," said
Benny.
MOLLIE'S APPEAL.
" I DO wish yon'il read to me,
grandmamma," said Mollie. "I
dou't care much for the stories,
but your voice is s\veeter'n mer-
lasses."
A WISH.
I WISH I lived in Topsytowu,
Where things are always upside
down ;
I'd love it much, for then, you
see,
Too much mince pie 'd be good
for me.
WALLIE'S JOKE.
"JUST see that baby putting
that little iron car in his mouth.
What do you suppose he thinks
it is?" asked the visitor.
"Guess he's heard it's a chew-
chew car," said Wallie.
THE TROUBLE.
" I HATE a sore throat," said lit-
tle Jack. " They're very nice to
keep you home from school, but
they're hoirid when you come to
swallow buckwheat cakes."
"WELL, Jimmieboy, I see your
papa has put you in a book."
"He tried to," returned Jim-
mieboy, "but I guess lie didn't
get me all in. I'm too big."
AN EXPLANATION.
" I WOXDKH why it is that most
little boys don't want to go to bed
when the time comes ?" said Mr.
Simpkins.
"Guess it's because they d.m't
know enough," said Willie. " Xo\v
I like to go to bed because I go
right to sleep, and I have heaps
of fun dreaming I'm a pirate or
a giant killer — and it's safe as a
church, because even if yon get
killed you're alive again in time
for breakfast."
UNCLE SILAS'S ENCOUNTER WITH TUB EVIL ONE.
CONSOLATION.
MAMIE (crying). " Oh, Tomniir. my doll fell in the fire and
got all burnt up ! The prettiest one I had, too !"
TOMMIE (>«/ in f ram aclwoJ). " Don't cry, Mamie. Phil-
-osophy says matter can't be destroyed. Your doll is here
yet, only it's not in the same form."
GETTING AT THE FIGURES.
JIMMIEBOY is studying arith-
metic, and has done very well
so far. The other day his father took him in his lap,
and giving him a squeeze, said, "Dear little boy, you don't
know how much I love yon."
" Yes, I do," said Jimmieboy ; " I love yon $2.000,000 worth.
You weigh three times as much as I do, so you love me
three times as much as I do ymi. That's stl.niiip. I \\orih."
472
\Ht-j
HARPERS
••v.-Vs^s
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
jPUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI.— HO. 810.
NEW YORK. TUESDAY, MAY 7. 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
HEROES OF AMERICA.
"MAD ANTHONY" WAYNE AT STONY POINT.
BY THE HONORABLE THEODOKE ROOSEVELT.
NE of the heroic figures of the Rev-
olution was Anthony Wayne, Ma-
jor-General of the Continental
line. With the exception of
Washington, and perhaps Greene,
he was the best General the
Americans developed iu the con-
test; and, without exception, he
showed himself to be the hard-
est fighter produced on either
side. He belongs, as regards
this latter characteristic, with the men like Winfield
Scott, Phil Kearny, Hancock, and Forrest, who revelled
in the danger and the actual shock of arms. Indeed, his
eager love of battle and splendid disregard of peril have
made many writers forget his really great qualities as a
General. Soldiers are always prompt to recognize the prime
virtue of physical courage, and Wayne's followers christen-
ed their daring commander " Mad Anthony, "in loving al-
lusion to his reckless bravery. It is perfectly true that
Wayne had this courage, and that he was a born tighter;
otherwise he never would have been a great commander.
A man who lacks the fondness for fighting, the eager desire
to punish his adversary, and the willingness to suffer pun-
ishment iu return may be a great organizer, like McC'lellau,
but can never become a great General or win great victo-
ries. There are, however, plenty of men who, though they
possess these fine, manly traits, lack the head to com-
mand an army ; but Wayne had not only the In-art and the
hand but the head likewise. No man could dare as greatly
as he did without incurring the risk of an occasional check;
but he was an able and bold tactician, a vigilant and cau-
tious leader, well fitted to bear the terrible burden of re-
sponsibility which rests upon a Commander-in-chief.
Of course at times he had to learn some rather severe.
lessons. Quite early iu his career,just after the battle of
the Brandywine, when he was set to watch the enemy, he
was surprised at night by the British General Grey, who
attacked him with the bayonet, killed a number of his men,
and forced him to fall back some distauce from the field of
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
action. This mortifying experience had noeft'ect whatever
on Wayne's courage or self-reliance, but it did give him a
valuable lesson in raiiticm. He showed what he had learned
by the skill with which, many years later, in 1794, he con-
ducted the famous campaign in which he overthrow the
Northwestern Indians at the tight of the Fallen Timbers.
Wayne's t'avorite weapon was the bayonet, and, like
Scott, he taught his troops until they were able in the shock
of hand-to-hand conflict to overthrow the renowned British
infantry, who had always prided themselves on their prow-
ess with cold steel. At the battle of (Jermanlown it was
Wayne's troops who, falling on with the bayonet, first drove
the Hessians and the British light infantry; and at Mon-
month it was Wayne and his Continentals who lirst checked
the British advance by repulsing the bayonet charge of the
guards and grenadiers.
Washington, the great leader of men, was prompt to re-
cognize in Wayne a soldier to whom could be entrusted
any especially difficult enterprise, which called for the ex-
ercise alike of intelligence and of cool daring. In the sum-
mer of 1780 he was very anxious to capture the British tort
at Stony Point, which commanded the Hudson.! It was
impracticable to attack il by regular siege while the British
frigates lay in the river, and the defenses were so strong
that open assault by daylight was equally out of the ques-
tion. Accordingly, Washington suggested to Wayne that
he try a night attack. Wayne eagerly caught at the idea.
It was exactly the kind of enterprise in which he delighted.
The fort was on a rocky promontory, surrounded on three
sides by water, and on the fourth by a neck of land, which
"was for the most part, mere morass. It was across this
neck of land that an attacking column had to move. The
garrison was six hundred sluing. To deliver the assault
Wayne took nine, hundred men.
The American army was camped about fourteen miles
from Stony Point. One July afternoon Wayne started.
and led his troops in single file along the narrow rocky
roads, reaching the hills on the mainland near the fort
after nightfall. He divided his force into two columns, to
advance one along each side of the neck, detaching two
companies of North Carolina troops to move in between the
two columns and make a false attack. The columns them-
sdvcs consisted of New-Knglandors, Pcnnsylvaniaus, and
Virginians. Each attacking column was divided into three
parN; a forlorn hope of twenty men leading, which was
followed by an advance-guard of one hundred and twenty,
and then by the main body. At that time commanding of-
ficers still carried spontomis and other old-time weapons;
and Wayne, who himself led the right column, directed its
movements spear in hand.
It was towards midnight when the Americans began to
press along the causeways toward the fort. Before they
were near the walls they were discovered, and the British
opened a heavy tire of j;reat guns and musketry, to which
the Carolinians, who were advancing between the two
columns, responded in their I urn, according to orders; but
the men in the columns were forbidden to lire. Wayne had
warned them that their work must be done with the bayo-
net, and their muskets « ere not even loaded. Moreover,
so strict was the discipline that no one was allowed to
leave the ranks, and when one of the men did so an officer
promptly ran him through the body.
No sooner had the British opened lire than the charging
columns broke into a run, and in a moment the forlorn
holies had plunged into the abattis of fallen timber which
the British had constructed just without the walls. On
the left the forlorn hope was very roughly handled, no
less than seventeen of the twenty men being either killed
or wounded: but as the columns came up both burst
through the timber and swarmed up the long sloping em-
bankments of the fort. The British fought well, cheer-
ing loudly as their volleys rang, hut the Americans would
not be denied, and pushed silently on to end the contest
with the bayonet. A bullet struck Wayne in the head.
He fell, but struggled to his feet and pushed forward, 1 wo
of his officers supporting him. A rumor went among the
men that he was dead, but it only impelled them to charge
home more fiercely than ever. With a rush the troops
swept to the top of the walls. A fierce but short tight fol-
lowed in the intense darkness, which was lit only by the
Hashes from the British muskets. The Americans did not
tire, trusting solely to the bayonet. The two columns hail
kept almost equal pace, and they swept into the fort from
opposite sides at the same moment. The three men who
first got over the walls were all wounded, but one ofthei.i
struck the British Hag. The Americans had the advantage
which always comes from delivering an attack that is
thrust home. Their muskets were unloaded, and they
could not hesitate; so, running boldly into close quarters,
they fought hand to hand with their foes and speedily
overthrew them. For a moment the bayonets Hashed and
played ; then the British lines broke as their assailants
thronged against them, and the struggle was over. The
Americans had lost a hundred in killed and wounded. Of
the British sixty-three had been slain and very many
wounded, every one of the dead or disabled having suf-
fered from the bayonet ; for Wayne's troops did not fire at
all. A curious coincidence was that the number of the
dead happened to equal exactly the number of Wayne's
men who had been killed in the night attack by the Eng-
lish General Grey.
There was great rejoicing among the Americans over the
successful issue of the attack. Wayne speedily recovered
from his wound, and in the joy of his victory it weighed
but slightly. He had performed a most notable feat. No
night attack of the kind was ever delivered with greater
boldness, skill, and success. When the Revolutionary War
broke out the American armies were composed merely of
armed \ comen, stalwart men of good courage, and fairly
proficient in the use of their weapons, but entirely with-
out the training which alone could enable them to with-
stand the attack of the British regulars in the open, or to
deliver an attack themselves. Washington's victory at
Trenton was the first encounter which showed that the
Americans were to be feared when they took the offensive.
With the exception of the battle of Trenton, and perhaps
of Greene's fight at Eutaw Springs, Wayne's feat was the
most successful illustration of daring and victorious at-
tack by an American army that occurred during the war;
and, unlike Greene, who was only able to fight a drawn
battle, Wayne's triumph was complete. At Monmouth
he had shown, as he afterwards showed against Coru-
wallis, that his troops could meet the renowned British
regulars on even terms in the open. At Stony Point he
showed that ho could lead them to a triumphant assault
with the bayonet against regulars who held a fortified
place of strength. No American commander has ever dis-
played greater energy and daring, a more resolute courage,
or readier resource, than the chief of the hard-fighting Rev-
olutionary Generals. Mad Anthony Wayne.
ONE BEAVE BOY OUT OF A
THOUSAND.
ROBERT BAIN recently prevented a serious accident in
Public School No. 23, at Marion, near Jersey City.
There were sounds of nanic from the room beneath his
class-room, and no one. can tell how many children might-
have been injured hut for his cool head and quick think-
ing. He did what any bright American boy should have
done, but what scarcely one boy in a thousand would have
done.
The two lower floors of the Marion Public School are oc-
cupied by the classes of the Primary Department, and the
top floor is occupied by the Grammar Department. The
building is heated by steam. One of the radiator valves
was broken off the other day. While waiting for a chance
to repair the break, the janitor carefully turned oft" the
steam at this radiator, and fitted a tight wooden plug in
place of the broken valve. Some very foolish person, either
for the sake of a joke or from a habit of meddling with
Ihings without asking leave, turned on the steam. The
radiator was in one of the class-rooms of the upper primary
floor — that is, the middle floor of the building.
The wooden plug was shot out of the radiator with a re-
474
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
port like a pistol shot at a quarter past ten o'clock in the
morning. Every child in the room rushed screaming tow-
ard the sliding- door leading to the stairway. So fierce
was thr impetus of the crowd that the door was twisted oft'
its tracks and turned halt-way around, Miss Agnes Carleu,
the teacher, was unable to control the children, for they
had swept past her before she really understood what had
happened. She stood helpless, half fainting, fearing that
the heavy slidiug-door would fall and crush her pupils.
Meantime great clouds of steam came hissing from the ra-
diators.
With a great clattering of many feet the frightened boys
and girls swarmed down the stairway, looking for places of
safety. Forty of them ran out into the school-yard, but
forty more were kept in-doors by Miss Searle, the principal
of the Primary Department, and her aids. At the moment
of the explosion and panic the boys and girls of the Gram-
mar Department on the top floor were almost panic-stricken.
They heard the loud report beneath them, the hissing of
steam, the screams, and the swift trampling feet. Every
one was scrambling np from his desk, when Robert Bain
jumped out into the aisle, and cried:
" Keep yonr seats ! There's no danger if you stay where
you are !"
Those words stopped the rush like magic. Seeing Bain's
coolness and courage, all the others were ashamed to show
themselves cowards. It was not so much the words he ut-
tered as his manner in saying them that swayed the
crowd. His tone not only showed that he was not fright-
ened, but the order rang out sharply and confidently, as if
the boy knew he would be obeyed. A few moments later
Miss Emma Johnson, the teacher in charge of the class,
learned all about the accident cm the floor below, and told
the children of it. There was. of course, no possible danger
of panic now.
What would have happened if young Bain had not
spoken at the right moment? Very likely the children
would have rushed out, like Miss Carlen's pupils, before
they could be checked. A steep stairway lay before them.
and probably many of them would have been badly hurt,
if not killed, in the wild downward flight. An accident
somewhat like this, in the (ireenw idi Avenue Public School
in New York many years ago, had the most serious conse-
quences.
Robert Bain is fourth sergeant in one of the two cadet
companies of the Marion Public School. He was very hap-
py, but also full of blushes, when Mr. Du Rie, the principal
of the school, complimented him before all his friends. If
every boy who reads of his brave act "ill make up his
mind to keep cool in any panic near him, he will have paid
the best possible compliment to Robert Bain.
THE TROLLEY BIKE OF 1900.
BY N. FREDERICK CARRYL.
" A LETTER, Uncle Tom! From the New Jersey Cou-
/\ solidated Traction Company, as sure as I live. Now
•we can start any minute."
" liight you are, my boy," said the brisk old gentleman of
close on sixty.
Joe heaved a big, contented sigh — not considered a very
healthy proceeding, by-the-way — and made a short speech.
" Uncle Tom, "said he, " it may surprise you a little to heal-
that father has decided he must stay home and attend strict-
ly to business for at least a month. By that time my vaca-
tion will be at an end. Now I have set my heart on this
trip, but who can I get for a comrade?"
"Well, Joe, what do you say to the idea of taking your
old uncle along?"
"Why, Uncle Tom, you dear man, you are the very nest
best to father. My! What a jolly time we will have!"
Joe's father and I had arranged it so that he could stay
at home, believing, as well he might, the boy was safe in my
hands.
Since all traction companies are owned by States (and, of
course, subdivided into counties), it is a comparatively easy
matter to get permits to use the company's trolley-wires,
have your meter inspected, locked, and dated.
The universal application, of electricity to the bicycle,
tricycle, and other road vehicles — not by batteries, which,
are still too heavy or short-lived for long trips, but by the
trolley-wire and connecting track — is of very recent date.
Minor difficulties still exist, and should anything serious
happen, I am mechanic enough to hope to repair damages.
Our machine was a very simple affair — after all is said
and left unsaid. At first glance it looked not unlike an
ordinary tandem — as in fact it was, but with a very much
wider tread forward, where, the electric motor was handily
placed and most effective in operation. The treadles re-
mained connected, but could be operated in the forward
direction only. Coasting, with the pedals as foot-rests,
whether going down hill or driven at high speed by the'
motor, was thus possible and easy. The electric head-light
was supplied from the same source as the motor, viz., the
trolley overhead wire. Of course we had a kerosene lamp
to use when disconnected from the street current. Since
1896 the overhead trolley has been abolished in large towns
and cities in favor of the underground method of electrical
connection, while the overhead system is still used (as so
much cheaper for long distances) in the country, between
towns and all distant points.
We used a light bamlwo pole, built up of five three-foot
sections, to reach the. overhead wire. Inside was, the con-
necting wire leading to I lie- starting, stopping, or reversing;
s\\ itc'h. thence to the motor. Another wire, leading from,
the- motor, passed through a light hinged shaft, upon the
end "I1 which was a two-foot metal wheel, thus completing
the circuit with the rail. The current passed through a,
reduction coil before reaching the motor, and was thus
brought clown to the proper resistance at which the motor
was built to run, otheru ise a burned-out apparatus would
be the certain result.
This was not the first time I had handled the Fleetichuj,
having made any number of short trips, none exceeding a
hundred miles. Joe's route was: Starting at Jersey City,
New Jersey, we were to cross the State-, and keep as near
directly WTest as the trolley- wire would take us, taking
in Chicago (now the first city in population in the United
States) and other important Western cities, with Denver
our turning-point.
Joe kissed his mother, gave his father's hand a hard shake,
jumped up behind me, and we were off. Look back once
more', my boy; a mother's tearful eyes no longer see you,
but your image is always in her heart !
We had been >adly mixed without our good map of all
the trolley -roads. They cross and recross, and seem to
shoot out in every direction in the eastern part of New
Jersey.
On a good straight road at last, with a clean run of thirty
miles before us! How we do spin! The motor hums not
unlike a swarm of angry bees. For a bright June morning
the weather seems a trifle cool. A light overcoat in sum-
mer? Well, just face a mild westerly wind, early in the
morning, sitting quietly on an electrically propelled bike at,
say, thirty miles an hour, and you will find an overcoat is
not to be sneezed at, or, rather, some sneezing will result
if you try to do without it.
Space will not permit to give you many details of our
trip, which caused two weeks to pass so quickly. Mishaps
we had, repairs to make, but the same machine was bring-
ing us nearer home each minute. Two o'clock now; by six
we are due in New York.
A Chicago chap — we met him — seemed rather smart and
all that, had a contrivance for working an air-ship by
trolley-wire. His scheme was to sail along near enough,
the ground to drop a trailer on the street wire, and so ob-
tain a current to run his aerial machine.
"My son," said I, " how do you expect to make a com-
plete circuit with but one wire?"
"That is part of uiy invention," said he.
Whether he made a success of it or not I have no means
ol' knowing, but I liked the idea.
We crossed the Pavonia bridge from Jersey City to New-
York on time, had just reached the terminus when the Ex-
475
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
AT THIRTY MILES AN HOUR.
press Air-ship Maxim rose from the depot at Union Square
and headed for Albany, looking very much like au immense
shooting-star.
The railroads have bad a severe setback since Maxim has
perfected his aerial engines and light machinery. Freight
they still carry, but railway passenger traffic has fallen oft'
to a marked extent, even with trains running at one hun-
dred miles per hour.
Who would care nowadays to spend an hour and a half
in the cars between New York and Albany when the Mujrim
will do it in forty-five minutes!
Strange creatures, to me, these women. I have never
married. Joe's mother wept when we left, and I am blamed
if she is not crying this minute. " What !"
"You too, Joe? I — "
OFF WITH THE MERBOY.
BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.
CHAPTER III.
UNDER WATER.
SN'T that interesting?" asked
the
Merboy when be bad finished.
"Very," returned Jimmieboy.
"But I don't see how it proves
that the Porpoise knew any more
than the Professor. Did he kno\v
why men have chins and why
boys are noisy ?"
" I dou't suppose be did," re-
turned the Merboy; "but even if
he didn't his ignorance wasn't any
greater than that of the Professor, while the Professor had
to admit that there wasn't anything he could tell the Por-
poise that the Porpoise hadn't heard before. That proved
that the Porpoise knew quite as much as the Professor did ;
and the fact that the Porpoise knew how to get the Profess-
or home while the Professor didn't, showed that the Por-
poise knew more than he did. That simply proves what 1
have already said, that sea creatures know more than laud
creatures -- even
Porpoises, and they
know h'.ss than
any other kind of
fish."
"It looks true,"
said Jimmieboy.
"But I hardly be-
lieve it, though."
"Well, you'd
better," retorted
the Merboy. " Why,
people of your kind
say themselves
that fish is good
for their brains.
Why should this
be so if fish weren't
•what I've said they
are ?"
"That's so!"
Jimmieboy answer-
ed, convinced at
hist. " But it
seems queer."
"That's because
yon don't under-
stand it," said the
Merboy, patroniz-
ingly. "If you
were a fish you'd
understand it, but
bring a boy you
can't be expected
to. It's simple
enough. You people on land are kept so busy all day long
earning your living that you don't have time really to
study. On the other band, we sea people don't do any-
thing but swim about all day and think. Didn't you ever
notice me up there in the aquarium lying perfectly motion-
less in the water with my eyes gazing off on both sides of
me with a far-away look in them?"
"Often," said Jimmieboy. "And I've wondered every
time what you really were doing. Were you always think-
ing at those times?"
" Always," said the Merboy. "Always studying out some-
thing."
"And did you ever find out anything ?" queried Jininiie-
boy.
"Yes," said the Merboy. "I've found out everything;
but," he added, hastily, " don't ask nie to tell you everything
now because these Dolphins are a little skittish, and I've
got to keep my mind on them or we'll be upset."
Here one of the Dolphins, to show how skittish he could
be when he tried, stood erect on his tail, and then took a
header deep down into the water, and in a moment Jiin-
mieboy found himself clinging in alarm to the Meiboy's
arm.
" Dou't do that I" cried the Merboy, " or you'll surely upset
us."
"I was afraid he'd drag us under," panted Jimmieboy. re-
leasing his hold.
" Drag us under ?" repeated the Merboy. " Why, my
dear boy, we are under. We've been driving under water
lor tfii minutes now. In ten more we shall be on the
ocean's bottom."
Jimmieboy pressed his lips as tightly together as be pos-
sibly could. If, as the Merboy had said, he was uuder
water and headed directly for the bottom of the sea, he
was not going to run auy risks by opening his mouth and
getting it full of sea-water, which he knew from experience
was not the pleasautest-tastiug stuff in the world. He was
a cautious boy too, Jimmieboy was, and he had a distinct
recollection of having heard his father warn a friend of his
at the sea-shore one summer's day not to open his mouth
too widely when he was in bathing, for fear he might take
in the ocean at a gulp, which would be a dreadful thing to
do.
47G
HAEPEE'S EOUND TABLE
"Dou't make such fearful faces," said the Merboy, noti-
cing Jimmieboy's efforts to squeeze bis two lips into one.
"You'll frighten the whales."
" Mwime mfwaid rugettiug mwater iu m' mouf," mumbled
Jimmieboy.
"Excuse me," said tbe Merboy, looking at bim as if be
thought be TV as crazy. "I never studied that language,
and I don't know what you are trying to say ; open your
mouth and speak English."
"Mwime mfwaid, "mumbled Jimmieboy again, meaning
to say " I'm afraid."
"Whoa!" cried tbe Merboy, reining iu bis Dolphins.
"Now look here, Jamesboy," he added, severely, as the car-
riage came to a stop, " I won't take yon any further if you
don't stop that. My relatives down here have been very
anxious to meet you, because I've written to them several
times telling them all about you ; but I can tell you just one
thing. If you are going to make faces like that, and talk
with your lips tight closed and your voice way down in
your boots, not to mention tbe horrible language you are
using, they won't
have anything
to do with you,
and they'll think
I got you out of
a circus instead
of at your home.
What's come
over you all of
a sudden, any-
how ?"
Poor Jimmie-
boy didn't know
what to do. He
had no wish to
offend tbe Mer-
boy or to fright-
en whales or to
prove unpleas-
ant to the Mer-
boy's friends, but
he also did not
care TO get a
mouthful nf .salt
water.
Fortunately at
this moment a
Porpoise, who
•was on duty as a
policeman iu
that neighbor-
hood came swim-
ming up, attracted, no doubt, by tbe somewhat angry tones
of the Merboy.
"What's the matter here?" be said, frowning with his
left eyebrow and using bis right eye to look pleasant, for
if everything was all right he wauted to look pleasant,
while the frown was for use iu case there was danger of a
disturbance.
"Nothing, Mr. Policeman," answered tbe Merboy, nodding
familiarly at the Porpoise. " I am afraid my little friend
here isn't feeling very well, and I was only trying to find
out what the trouble was."
"He does look kind of queer like, doesn't be ?" said the
Porpoise, gazing at Jimniieboy's lips. " He looks to mo as
if he were trying to swallow his teeth. Is he taken this
•way often ?"
"Never saw him like this before," said the Merboy. anx-
iously. " It's something new for bim to keep his mouth
shut up so tight, and I can't understand it."
" Perhaps — " the Porpoise began ; " but no," he added, " I
was going to say I'd arrest bim for being disorderly, for he
certainly is out of order, but I'm afraid the judge would
fine me. I lost my last month's pay for arresting a shark
by mistake. Some shark swallowed a whole school of
whitebait last week, and as the teachers of the school com-
plained about having their business ruined I had to arrest
some one. These sharks are all alike, you know, and I got
hold of the wrong one, and the judge let him off and made
me pay the damages. I'm afraid we couldn't make out a
case against this young man."
" No ; and we shouldn't try it if we could," said tbe Mer-
boy. "I don't want to get him into trouble. He's my
friend."
"Well — say," said the Porpoise. "I'll tell you how wo
can rind out what's the matter. There's a bureau of infor-
mation about two hundred and thirty fathoms up the street.
They know everything there. You might drive up there
and find out what ails him."
" That's a good idea," said tbe Merboy. " Who is in
charge of the bureau ?"
"Nobody. It just lies there at the side of the street.
You'll find tbe most interesting information in the top
drawer. You can't miss tbe bureau, because it's tbe only
one in the ocean, and it has brass knobs ou it, and a brush
and comb ou the top of it. So long."
" Good-by,"said the Merboy, as the Porpoise with another
curious glance at Jimmieboy swam away. Then the Mer-
boy, turning the
Dolphins' beads
in the direction
of the bureau,
started them
along. " I shall
feel very badly
if this is a case
of lockjaw," he
said to himself.
"His parents
would drive me
out of the bouse,
and I don't think
I'd be likely to
get as nice a place
anywhere else."
"M-mwi a-
weut wot wock-
waw," mumbled
Jimmieboy.
"Don't say an-
other word or
you'll drive me
crazy," returned
the Merboy.
"This is simply
awful as it is,
but when you
talk it's worse
than awful, it is
horrific. Ah, I
fancy this must be the bureau," ho added, drawing up
alongside of a beautiful piece of furniture that stood at the
road-side and looked very much like a bureau. " Hold the
Dolphins, Jimmieboy, and I'll get out and see if there's any
information to be had iu regard to your case."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
•IS HE TAKEN THIS WAY OFTEN?" ASKED TUB PORPOISE.
MISS APPOLINA'S CHOICE.
BY AGNES LITTLETON.
IDart *E.
MISS APPOLINA BRIGGS was somewhat of a power
iu the Reid family. She was a cousin of the fathers
of Millieeut, Joanna, and Peggy, their fathers being bro-
thers, and for many years when they were boys she had
made her home with their parents. She now, however,
had a house of her own.
She was very wealthy, very aristocratic, and very ec-
centric. Kind-hearted and charitable, she preferred to do
good in her own way only.
A mouth or two ago Miss Briggs had informed her rel-
atives that she intended to pass tbe summer in England,
and that it was barely possible that she would ask one of
her young cousins to accompany her. \Vhich should be the
477
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
fortunate one she should not decide until a week before the
date fixed for stilling. That would he time enough, she
said, for no preparations would be necessary. All the girl's
wants could be supplied on the other side.
This proposition sounded very attractive, for Cousin Ap-
)>olina was generous even though she was so peculiar, and
there was no doubt that in addition to having the pleasure
of the trip, a well-stocked wardrobe would fall to the share
of the lucUy recipient of her favor.
As Peggy had said, there was not much probability that
she would be the one honored. She had a liaiiit of making
all sorts of speeches in Miss Briggs's presence \\hich did
not please the good lady at all. And yet no oiie knew. It
would be just like Cousin Appolina's unexpectedness if she
were to veer suddenly around and decree that Margaret, as
she always called her. should be the one to go to England.
Consequently, suspense and excitement ran high in the
Reid family, anil in the intervals of study, fair work, and
poetry-making there was much discussion as to which of
the three should be Miss Appoliua's choice.
She herself had gone to Washington for a few weeks,
and the family breathed more easily for a time. When so
much depended upon it the girls were greatly afraid of do-
ing something to offend their cousin, which might very
easily happen, and in that case she would sail alone with
her maid !
In the mean time preparations foi the fair continued, and
at last the day arrived. Millieent, having convinced her-
self that this would be the best means of securing the rec-
ognition of her powers as a poetess that she wanted, the
recognition which had hitherto been denied her by unfeel-
ing editors, had been reeling off verse by the yard.
Each poem had been printed in the. form of a little fancy
booklet, at considerable expense to the author, it is true,
but the girls had plenty of pocket money, and Millieent
had eased her conscience with the thought that her object
was charity as well as recognition, and each copy that was
sold would bring in twenty-five cents to the fair. She had
raised the price since the poems came home — she had no
idea that they would look so attractive, she said. They
would be sure to sell.
Peggy had helped her with a readiness that would have
appeared suspicious if Millieent had not been too much ab-
sorbed in sentiment to notice it. She had accompanied her
cousin to make arrangements for having the poems printed,
and had inspected them on their return, and now the morn-
ing upon which the fair was to open she offered to carry
the box which contained them to an office in the neighbor-
hood, and have them sent to Sherry's, where the fair was
to be held, by a district telegraph boy.
"It is much better than ringing for a messenger-boy to
come to the house." she said, " for then no one can lind out
in any way who 'Pearl Proctor' is. I shall lie on hand
when the box arrives so that I can hear what people say.
but you had better not come until afterwards, Mill, for your
Ayface would be sure to give it away."
The fancy articles, including Miss Briggs's slippers, had
already been sent.
Joanna went to school, longing for the morning to pass
that she might get to the fair herself. She and one of her
friends were to manage the " fish pond," while Milliceut
was to be an aid at the flower-table, and Peggy would as-
sist in selling some of the fancy articles.
Peggy left the package at the office, and then hailed a
car, that she might not fail to reach the fair in time to wit-
ness its arrival. She looked forward to having some rare
sport. She only wished that she could take some one into
her confidence, for it is always so much more fun to laugh
with a comrade than to laugh alone. However, a laugh is
valuable at- any time.
So thought Miss Peggy as she made her way along
Thirth-seventh Street in her new spring hat and gown, her
eyes dancing with anticipation.
The poem on Cousin Appolina had been tucked into the
box along with the rest, but very much underneath. In
that way Peggy felt confident that it. would escape obser-
vation at the fair, and yet be among the poems to give
Millieent a shock when thev came back.
"For of course no one is going to buy those silly things,"
said Peggy to herself; " and I hope it will be a good lesson
to Milly. Such conceit as hers in regard to that poetry I
never saw, and it ought to In- taken down."
She found the rooms in a state of disorder. Various
fashionable dames who had the fair in charge were running
about in a vain attempt to bring some degree of order out
of the confusion, and Peggy's coming was hailed with de-
light.
"Oh, Peggy Reid! Just the person 1 want. Peggy,
dear, do hold the end of this scarf while I fasten it here."
"Peggy, just see if you can find the tack-hammer."
" Peggy, you have just come, and can see things vith a
fresh eye. Tell me the effect of this drapery."
But notwithstanding all these calls upon her. Peggy
managed to be conveniently near the door when a messen-
ger-boy appeared, hearing a box addressed, in a printed
hand, to Mrs. Pearson, who had charge of the fair. Peggy
took the box, dismissed the boy hastily, and carried it to
Mrs. Pearson.
"Something else? Oh, do open it, Peggy! I am so
busy," exclaimed (hat lady, precisely as Peggy hoped she
would do. She opened the box — that which she herself
had so carefully tied up not long before.
On the top lay a type-written card, which read, "Sent
by one of the congregation, w ho hopes that they may bring
twenty-live cents apiece." Beneath were a number of little
booklets.
" Why, Mrs. Pearson, do look! Somebody lias sent some
poems to sell," cried Peggy, in tones of great surprise. "A
member of the congregation, and they are signed ' Pearl
Proctor'! Who in the world can it be !"
Several people gathered about.
" How very funny ! One of the congregation ? Who do
you suppose it is? I wish I had time to read them." said
Mrs. Pearson. "They are certainly a novelty at a fair.
Twenty-five cents she values them at ? The lady is modest.
But take care, girls," she added, in a warning whisper, ap-
proaching two young women who were laughing immoder-
ately over one of Pearl Proctor's productions, "yon must be
careful! No one knows who wrote them, and the person
may be in the room watching us at this very minute. It
will never do to hurt her feelings."
" Oh, but, Mrs. Pearson, if you could only read this! It
is the funniest thing I ever read, and the best part of it is,
it isn't meant to be at all."
" Never mind, don't laugh. I beg of you! How did they
get here, Peggy ?"
"A messenger- boy brought them," returned Peggy
promptly, feeling very glad that Millieent was not here to
see the effect they produced. She was almost sorry that
she had urged her to send them. After all it seemed a
shame to make fun of the poor dear.
"Well, do be careful, girls." said Mrs. Pearson, as she
moved away.
An hour or so later Millieent herself walked into the
rooms. She looked very lovely, for her beautiful golden
hair had twisted into little curls and waves, the morning
being somewhat damp, and there was an unusual sparkle iu
her dreamy blue eyes. It was very exciting to have one's
poems actually for sale.
The lirst thing that met her gaze was a large sign placed
a box e a small table. Upon the table lay the array of book-
lets, while the sign read thus:
"A NOVELTY: POEMS BY PEARL PROCTOR,
A 3IEMEEII OF THE CiiNUI-.EGATION.
'fir* t>h/-fir< (V/,/\ J-'in'h ."
She did not have •sufficient courage to walk boldly np
with the air of a stranger and inspect the wares thus offered
for sale, so she turned aside and began to talk to some of
her friends, asking what she could do to help.
" My dear, "said Elsie Pearson, living up to her. and speak-
ing in a whisper, "I am so glad you ha.ve. come! I must
tell you the greatest joke iu the world. Somebody has
sent a lot of poems to the fair to sell! Did you ever hear
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
of anything so delicious? Mamma says we ought not to
laugh, for the person who wrote them may be in the room,
but it is too awfully finiiiy not to laugh the least bit, and
I know you arc safe."
Milliceut smiled stiffly. "Are they funny poems?" she
asked. "You seem to find them amusing."
Klsie would have noticed her tone if she had not been so
excited and in such haste.
•• They are not meant to be," she said, aloud, as she moved
away. "That is the best part of the whole thing."
Millicent, left alone, felt as if she could cry with pleasure.
How perfectly outrageous it \vas in that odious Elsie Pear-
son to talk in such a way ! The only comfort was that Klsie
was anything but intellectual, and would not know good
poetry when she saw it. She would probably fail to see
any beauty in Tennyson.
Peggy hail watched this conference from across the
room; and she now came quickly over to her cousin.
"Look out. Mill," she said in a low tone, ''you will have to
be awfully careful that no one catches on. If I were you
I wouldn't stay so near the poetry table."
Peggy, already deeply regretting her joke, wished to spare
her cousin as much as possible. l!ut her good intentions
were frustrated by Mrs. Pearson.
"Millicent," said that lady, "we have had some new
•wares sent in; something I never saw before at a fair.
Poems, my dear. Just think of it; and by a member of the
congregation! We can't imagine who wrote them, and of
course they are perfect trash "(this in a low voice), "but
we will have to do our best to sell them, so I want you to
take charge of that table. You won't mind changing, 1
know. And try not to let. the people laugh at the poems.
They are absurd, I know, judging from one I picked up. It
•was about a moth or an ant or something. 1 am not sure
that it was not a Croton bug," and with a laugh at her ow n
wit Mrs. Pearson led Millicent to the poetry table, and
established her behind it.
It was now twelve o'clock, the hour at which the fair
was to be opened to the public.
Two or three hours later the sale was in full swing. A
great many people came, for it was in every respect a fash-
ionable function, and it was considered quite the thing to
be seen there. People bought largely also of every variety
of article — except poetry. That seemed to go a-begging.
There was always a crowd about the table, but no oue
felt inclined to purchase. The, little booklets were picked
up, read, dropped again, with laughter and comments, until
Millicent felt that she would gladly sink through the
floor.
Even her own mother came, criticised, and moved on,
with a whispered question to Millicent as to \vhat member
of the congregation could have been so conceited and so
senseless as to do such a thing as this.
Millicent's head ached, and tears tilled her eyes, and she
thought the climax had been reached when Elsie Pearson,
picking one up at random, said, laughingly :
"Just listen to this, Milly ! It is the gem of the whole
collection. I can't help it if the 'member of the congrega-
tion ' does see me. She deserves to be made fun of." And
Elsie in a whisper read the following:
" TO THE MARCH WINII.
" Loud and shrill, loud and shrill,
List to the wild March wind !
And the heart of the mariner trembles
As he sails his rudder behind.
"My dear, the ' member' is a little mixed! Does she mean
the mariner sails behind the rudder, or the rudder sails be-
hind the mariner? Did you em; Milliceut ? 1 don't be-
lieve she knows which part of a ship the rudder is. And
this is the second verse:
" And the bell on the bleak beach bellows.
(There's alliteration for you. Fancy a bell bellowing !)
And the fog-horn lifts its voice,
And the mariner goes to an early grave,
He has no other choice.
"Oh, Milly! isn't it funny ? Why don't yon laugh ?"
"I am laughing," said Milliceut, in a hoarse voice ; "it
makes me perfectly hysterical," and she hid her face for a,
moment in her handkerchief. Fortunately Elsie was at that
moment called away.
Millicent found to her cost, as the afternoon wore ou,
that the climax had not been even then.
Joanna had come late to the fair, detained by school and
luncheon until four o'clock. »She had found no one at
home, not even her mother, but she had heard from the
maid a piece of news which caused her heart to bound with
exeltement ;|]|<1 consternation.
('ousiu Appolina had returned very unexpectedly from
Washington !
Joanna decided that she must tell Millicent as soon as
she reached the fair, so that the slippers might be removed
at once. It would be better to be ou the safe side, although
it, was extremely improbable that Cousin Appoliuu would
A isit the fair the first day of her return.
But just as Joanna came out of the front door Miss
Briggs herself drove up in her carriage, and learning that
no one was at home in either of her relatives' houses, but
that all had gone to the fair, concluded to betake herself
there also, and forthwith invited Joanna, to get in and
drive with her to Sherry's.
Joanna, nothing loth, accepted the invitation, feeling
rather glad on the whole that her cousin had returned in
time, for she would be Mire to spend her money freely, and
Joan was greatly interested in the success of the sale.
And, alas! she forgot all about the. worsted slippers!
They presented their tickets, and entered the room just
as Millicent had buried her face in her handkerchief upon
hearing the remarks of Klsie 1'earson. When she emerged
therefrom the lirsi thing that met her astonished gaze was
the tall and never-to-be-forgotten form of Cousin Appolina
Briggs, and her heart sank with apprehension. For a mo-
ment the works of her unappreciated genius were for-
gotten. Her one thought was "slippers!"
" <>h, that I had never sent those horrible slippers!" she
said to herself despairingly. "It will be just my luck to
h,i\ e her see them, anil would serve me right, too, for hav-
ing .niveii away a present. Yes, she is going that way!
Oh, if I could only make Peggy or Joan come here! They
could go and buy the slippers before she gets there."
But Peggy and Joan were not forth-coming. The latter,
full of business, had lost no time in retiring behind the
screen which formed the " fish-pond,'' and was already bait-
ing the hook with ardor, and queerly shaped packages, and
Peggy had not yet seen her cousin, and supposed her to be
33 fe at Washington.
But Miss Briggs was not i to remain long unnoticed.
She was of commanding height and noble breadth. When
she entered a room the rest of humanity seemed to grow
smaller by comparison. Her voice was deep and had a
|ienei rating quality which caused it to be heard at an un-
usual distance, and the gold lorgnette, without which she
was never seen, and which she was in the habit of raising
constantly to her short-sighted and somewhat prominent
eyes, flashed and glittered in the light.
Truly Miss Appolina's was a presence calculated to make
itself felt. And Peggy felt it, and she heard the voice, and
a tremor that seemed like fear filled her naturally courage-
ous heart. She looked at Cousin Appolina, and she looked
ul the poet r\ (able. There was yet time. Leaving abruptly
a ciiMomcr who was on the verge of making an important
purchase, who only needed a word of advice from Miss
Peggy Reid as to which was the prettier, a centre-piece
embroidered in yellow, or a table-cloth done in greens, she
flew to the side of Millicent.
"The poems!" she gasped. "Have any of them sold .'"
"Not one," said Millicent, " but oh, Peggy; there is Cou-
sin Appolina!"
"I know," returned Peggy, breathlessly, as she turned
over the booklets — "I know! That's just it !"
"But the slippers, Peggy! Go and get them. I don't
dare."
"The slippers! They are nothing to the poetry. 01
where is it ?"
479
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"IS NOT MILLJCENT CAPABLE OF SPEAKING FOR HEKSELF?"
And she tossed the poems hither and thither, lookiug first
iuto one, then into another.
"Oh, where is it?"
" What do you mean, Peggy ? Don't waste time over the
poetry. Do please go ami buy those slippers! Give any
price. There, she is gettiug to that table now ! It is too
late !"
There was a lull in the noise at that moment, and Miss
Briggs's clear deep tones could be distinctly heard by the
two culprits.
" I want a pair of knit slippers. I make a great many
myself, but I never seem to have any for my own use. How-
much are these red and gray ones? A dollar and a half?
(Jive them to me, please, and never mind about the change.
1 have not examined them thoroughly, but if they do not
suit me I will give them away."
It was too late. She had bought her own slippers. Mil-
licent hoped that the gold lorgnette would be smashed to
atoms before the lady reached her home; that her spec-
tacles would lose themselves; even that the world would
come to an end before Miss Appolina found an opportunity
to examine those red and gray worsted slippers. That she
would recognize themMillicent felt no doubt, for they were
knit in a fashion peculiar to herself, the two colors forming
a little plaid.
Meanwhile Peggy had tossed about the poems with no
430
is guilty of all this?
It had come, then !
but not aloud :
result. She had only succeeded in
bringing to the top those that had
hitherto lain in safe insignificance at
the bottom.
Now she stood by the table as if
turned into stone, and awaited the
approach of an avenging fate. The
day of practical jokes was over for
her.
She knew, she felt absolutely confi-
dent, that just as surely as Cousin
Appolina had chosen the slippers of
her own make. just so surely would
she pounce upon the poem that Peg-
gy had written about her.
Miss Briggs drew near.
" Well, girls !" she said, in her great •
deep voice, the gold lorgnette raised
to her eyes — " well, girls, you did not
expect to see me back so soon, did
you ? Washington became insupport-
able. Too many odious-looking peo-
ple. I could not endure it. What
have we here?" staring at the sign,
" ' Poems by Pearl Proctor, a member
of the congregation '? And who may
she be ? Proctor — Proctor? I don't
remember the name in New York.
Proctor is a Boston name. Who is
it, Millicent?"
Millicent trembled.
"I — I — "she faltered.
"Yon!" thundered her cousin.
"Never! What do you mean?"
"Milly didn't mean to say that,"
interposed Peggy. " She was probably
going to say she couldn't tell who it
is. It is an assumed name, we sup-
pose, Cousin Appolina."
"Is not Millicent capable of speak-
ing for herself?" inquired Miss
Briggs, severely. " Since when did
she lose the power of speech ?"
The girls shook in their shoes, and
held their peace.
'•What are these things?" contin-
ued this terrible person, picking up
the poems disdainfully, and again
putting her lorgnette to her eyes:
"'Ode to a Firefly," Sonnet on the
C'aterpiller,' ' Some Lines to a Beggar
Child.' Faugh ! Who is the fool that
But — but — what have we here?"
For this is what Miss Appoliua read,
"Who is a dame of high degree?
Who's always scolded little me?
Who is a sight strange for to see ?
Miss Appolina B.
" Who cannot with her friends agree ?
Who loves to feed on cakes and tea?
Who prides herself on her pedigree?
Hiss Appolina B.
"Who'll soon set sail across the sea?
Who will not take her cousins throe ?
Who is an ancient, awful she ?
Miss Appolina B."
Miss Briggs looked from one to the other of the girls.
The hum of the fair went on.
"I will buy all of these poems." she said in a voice whicl
filled their souls with terror: -count them, and tell mo the
amount. And I wish to see you both to-morrow morning
at ten o'clock."
Wondering, Millicent obeyed.
Peggy turned and fled.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
I! V KIR K M U X R O E.
CHAPTEI! XIX.
A UATTLH WITH WOLVES.
rPHE remainder of the journey up the Tauanah was un-
J_ eventful, but so long that the new year was well be-
gun ere the sledge party left it and turned up the Gbeesah
branch, which flows in from the east. An Indian guide,
procured at the last village by the promise of a pound of
tobacco for his services, accompanied them on their four
days' journey up this river, and to the summit of the
bleak wind-swept divide, five hundred feet above timber-
line. This gave the dogs a hard pull, though Jalap Coombs
insisted upon lightening their load by walking; nor from
this time on would he again consent to be treated as an
invalid.
The summit once passed, they plunged rapidly down its
farther side and into the welcome shelter of timber fringing
a tiny stream, whose course they were now to follow. Their
guide called it the Tiikh-loo-ga-ne-lnkh-nongh, which, after
vain attempts to remember, Phil shortened to "Tough
Enough." Jalap Coombs, however, declared that this was
not a " sarcumstance " to the names of certain down-East
streams among which he was born, and to prove his asser-
tioii began to talk glibly
of the Misquabenish, tluj
Keejimkoopic, the Kashag-
awigamog, the Kahwcam-
brjvwagamog, and others of
like brevity, until Phil
begged him to take a rest.
That night, while the
camp was buried in the pro-
found slumber that follow-
ed a day of unusually hard
work, and tl»c tire had burn-
ed to a bed of coals, the sin-
gle long-drawn howl of a
wolf was borne to it with
startling distinctness by the
night wind. As though it
were a signal, it was an-
swered from a dozen dif-
ferent directions at once.
The alert dogs sprang from
their snowy beds with bris-
tling crests and hurled back
a challenge of fierce bark-
ings; but this, being an iu-
vidrnt of nightly occur-
rence, failed to arouse the
tired sleepers.
Within a few minutes
the dread bowlings had so
increased in volume that
they seemed to issue from
scores of savage throats and
to completely encircle the
little camp. It was as if
all the wolves of the forest,
rendered desperate by fam-
ine, had combined for a raid
on the supper of provisions
so kindly placed within
their reach. Nearer and
nearer they came, until their
dark forms could be seen
like shadows of evil omen
flitting among the trees and
across the open moonlit
spaces.
The dogs, at first eager to
meet their mortal foes, now
huddled together, terrified
by overwhelming numbers.
Still the occupants of the camp slept, unconscious of their
danger. Suddenly there came a rush, an unearthly clamor
of .savage outcry, and the sleepers were roused to a fearful
wakening by a confused struggle within the very limits of
the camp and over their recumbent forms. They sprang
up with yells of terror, and at the sound of human voices
the invaders drew back, snapping and snarling with rage.
"Timber wolves!" shouted Serge. "Your rifle, Phil !
Quick!"
Emboldened by this re-enforcement, the dogs advanced
to the edge of the camp space, but with low growls in place
of their former defiant barkings. .
Phil was trembling with excitement; but Serge, steady-
as a rock, was throwing the No. 4's from the double-barrel
and reloading with buckshot, at the same time calling to
C'hitsah to pile wood on the fire, and to the other Indians
not to fire until all were ready. Jalap Coombs seized au
axe, and forgetful of the bitter cold, was rolling up his
sleeves, as though he proposed to fight the wolves single-
handed. At the same time he denounced them as pirates
and bloody laud-sharks, and dared them to come within his
reach.
"Are you ready?" cried Serge. "Then fire!" And with
'NOW," CRIED SERGE, "ALL MAKE A DASH TOGETHER !"
481
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
;i roar that woke the forest echoes for miles, the four guns
poured their contents into the dense black mass, that seem-
ed just ready to luirl itself for a second time upon the camp.
With frightful bowlings the pack scattered, and began
to gallop swiftly in a wide circle about the tire-lit space.
One huge brute, frenzied with rage, leaped directly toward
the camp, with gleaming eyes and frothing mouth. Ere a
gnu could be levelled, Jalap Coombs stepped forward to
mci't him, and with a mighty swinging blow his heavy axe
crushed the skull of the on-coming beast as though it had
been an egg-shell. Instantly the dogs were upon him, and
le.-ii ing fiercely at their fallen enemy.
With the first shot Phil's nervousness vanished, and as
coolly as Serge himself, he followed with levelled rifle the
movements of the yelling pack in their swift circling. At
carh patch of moonlit space one or more of the fierce brutes
fell before his unerring fire, until every shot of his maga-
zine was exhausted.
"Now," cried Serge, " we must scatter them. Every man
take a firebrand in each hand, and all make a dash to-
gether."
" Yelling," added Jalap Coombs.
"Yes, yelling louder than the wolves themselves."
The plan was no sooner proposed than adopted. Musky,
Luvtnk, big Amook, and the rest, inspired by their master's
courage, joined in the assault, and before that fire-bearing,
yelling, on-rushing line of humanity and dogs the, gaunt
forest raiders gave way and fled in all directions.
The whole battle had not lasted more than five minutes,
but it resulted in the death of nineteen wolves, six of which
were despatched by the sailor-man's terrible axe after the
fight was over, and they, more or less wounded, were slink-
ing away toward places of hiding. But the dogs found
them out, and they met a swift fate at the hands of Jalap
Coombs.
As he finally re-entered the camp, di-agging the last one
behind him, he remarked, with a chuckle: " Waal, boys, I
rnther guess our boat's ' high line ' this time, and I'm free to
admit that this here wolf racket heats most kinds of fishing,
for genuine entertainment, onless it's fishing for sharks,
which is exciting at times. I'm pleased to have met np
with this school, though, for it's allers comforting to run
across fresh proofs of my friend old Kite Eobersou's know-
ingness. He nseter say consuming the critters. Kite did,
that wolves was sharks and sharks was wolves, and that
neither of 'em warn't no fit playthings for children, which
it now seems to me he were correct, as usual."
"He certainly was," replied Phil, who, leaning on his
rifle, was thoughtfully regarding the shaggy beast that
Kite Robinson's friend had just dragged into camp. " But
aren't these uncommonly big wolves ? I never knew they
grew so large."
" They don't generally," answered Serge ; " but these are
of the same breed as the great Siberian wolves, which, you
know, are noted as being the largest and fiercest iu the
world."
"I don't wonder now that the dogs were frightened,"
continued Phil, "for this fellow looks twice as big as
Amook — and he's no puppy. But, I say. Serge, you're an
awfully plucky chap. As for myself, I must confess I was
so badly rattled that I don't believe I should have even.
thought of a gun before they were on us a second time."
"If they had made a second rush, not one of us would be
alive to talk about it now," remarked Serge, soberly ; " and
it was only the promptness of our attack that upset their
plans. In dealing with wolves it is always safest to force
the fighting; for while they are awful bullies, they are
cowards at heart, like all bullies I ever heard of."
"Captain Duff, for instance," said Phil, with a reminis-
cent smile. Then he added, " Anyhow, old man, you got
us out of a bad scrape, for it isn't every fellow who would
know just how to deal with a pack of wolves, especially
when awakened from a sound sleep to find them piling on top
of him."
'• I don't believe it was quite as bad as that," objected
Serge. " I expect only the dogs piled on top of us when
they were driven in. By-the-way, did you know that four
of them were killed and several others badly hurt ?"
"No, I didn't," cried Phil, in dismay. "What ones are
Killed .'"
"Two from my team, one from yours, and one from Chit-
sab's."
"Oh, the villains!" exclaimed the young leader. "An-
other victory like that would cripple us. Do you think
thriv is any danger of them coming back .'"
"Not just now ; but I shouldn't be surprised to hear from
them again to-morrow night."
"All right. I'm glad you mentioned it. Now we'll see
if we can't have an interesting reception prepared for
them."
" Pizen ?" queried Jalap Coombs, who had lighted his
pipe, and was now complacently watching the skinning of
the dead wolves, which had been undertaken by the three
Indians.
•' Worse than that," answered Phil, significantly.
I'.y the time the Indians had finished their task and break-
fast had been eaten the usual starting-hour had arrived.
Two of the wolf-skins were allotted to the guide, who was
to leave them at this point, and he set forth on his return
journey with them on his back. Rolled in them were the
single dried salmon, which would form his sole sustenance
on the journey, and the cherished pound of tobacco, for which
he had been willing to work so hard. In his hand he bore
an old flintlock musket, that was the pride of his heart, not
so much on account of its shooting qualities, which were
very uncertain, as by reason of its great length. It was the-
longest gun known to the dwellers of the Tauanah Valley,
and consequently the most valuable, for the Hudson Bay
Company's method of selling such guns was to exchange
one for as many marten, fox, or beaver skins as could be
piled from stock to muzzle when it stood upright.
"I hope the wolves won't attack his camps," remarked
Phil, as they watched the louely figure pass out of sight on
the back trail.
"Him no camp," declared Knrilla.
" But he must. YVhy, it's a four days' journey to his
home."
"No. One day, one night. Him no stop. Wolf no catch
urn. Yaas."
And Kurilla was right, for the Indian would push on over
mile after mile of that frozen solitude without a pause, save
for an occasional bite from his dried salmon and a handful
ot'snow to wash it down, until he reached his own far-nway
liome.
CHAPTEK XX.
CHITSAH'S NATURAL TELEPHONE.
SEVENTEEN green wolf-skins formed a heavy sledge-load,
especially for the weakened dog teams, but fortunately Ja-
lap Coombs's feet were again in condition for walking, and
snow on the river was not yet deep. So it was determined
to carry them at least for the present. On the evening fol-
lowing that of the encounter with wolves, Phil, leaving the
work of preparing camp to the others, unpacked the Eskimo
wolf-traps of compressed whalebone that he had procured
at Makagamoot. He had twenty of the ingenious little
contrivances, and wrapped each one in a strip of frozen
wolf meat that he had saved and brought along for the
purpose. When all were thus prepared he carried them
about a quarter of a mile from camp, and there dropped
them at short intervals in a great circle about it. He knew
the dogs would not stray that far, since their experience of
the night before, and so felt pretty certain that the traps
would only find their way to the destination for which they
were intended.
The first blood-chilling howl was heard soon after dark,
and a few minutes later it was apparent that wolves were
again gathering from all quarters. Then the anxious watch-
ers caught occasional glimpses of dim- forms and some-
times of a pair of gleaming eyes, that invariably drew a shot
from Phil's rifle. Still, the wolves seemed to remember their
lesson, or else they waited for the occupants of the camp to
fall asleep, for they made no effort at an attack.
As time passed, the wolf tones began to change, and defi-
ant howliugs to give place to yelps and yells of distress.
Soon other sounds were mingled with these — the fierce
482
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
snarlings of savage beasts fighting over tlieir prey. Tlie
traps were doing their work. Those wolves that had eager-
ly gulped them down were so stricken, with deadly pains
that they staggered, fell, and rolled in the snow. At the
first symptoms of distress others sprang upon them and tore
them to pieces, at the same time battling fiercely over their
cannibal feast. So wolf fed wolf, while the night echoed
with tlieir hideous outcries, until finally the survivors.
gorged with the tlesli of their own kind, slunk away, and
after some hours of bedlam quiet once more reigned in the
forest.
S<> Phil's scheme proved a success, and for the remainder
of that night he and his companions slept in peace. At
daylight they visited the scenes of wolfish feasting, and
found everywhere plentiful evidence of what had taken
place; but this time they gathered in neither rugs nor
robes, for only blood stains and bones remained.
For another week did the sledge party journey down the
several streams that, emptying one into another, finally
formed the Conebill River, or, as the gold-diggers call it,
Forty Mile Creek, because its mouth is forty miles dowu
the Yukon from the old trading-post of Fort Reliance. As
the first half of their long journey drew toward a close they
became anxious as to its results and impatient for its end.
When would they reach the settlement? and could they
get there before their rivals who had followed the Yukon ?
were the two questions that they constantly asked of each
other, but which none could answer.
Phil grew almost despondent as he reflected upon the
length of time since they left old Fort Adams, and gave it
as his opinion that the other party must have reached
Forty Mile long since.
Jalap Coombs was firm in his belief that the other party
was still far away, and that his would be the first in ; for,
quoth he: "Luck allers has been ou my side, and I'm going
to believe it allers will be. My old friend Kite Roberson
useter say, speaking of luck, and he give it as his own ex-
perience, that them as struck the best kinds of luck was
them as worked the hardest for it, and ef they didn't get it
one way t hey was sure to another. Likewise lie useter say,
Kite did, consuming worriments, that ef ye didn't pay no
attention to one 'twould be mighty apt to pass ye by ; but
ef ye encouraged it by so much as a wink or a nod ye'd
have to tight it to git red of it. So, as they hain't no wor-
riuients hove iu sight, what's the use in s'arcliiug for 'em ?"
As for Knrilla, whenever his opinion was asked, he always
grinned, and returned the same answer:
" You come pretty quick, niebbe. Yaas."
So each day of the last three or four brought its fresh
hope ; at each succeeding bend of the stream all eyes were
strained eagerly forward for a sight of the expected cluster
of log huts, and each night brought a disappointment.
At length one eveuing, when Phil, who had pushed on
longer than usual, iu au effort to end their suspense, was
reluctantly compelled by gathering darkness to go into
camp, Chitsah suddenly attracted attention to himself by
running to a tree and pressing an ear to the trunk. As the
others stared a smile overspread his face, and he said some-
thing to his father, which the latter instantly interpreted.
" What !" cried Phil, incredulously. " He thinks ho hears
the sound of chopping f"
'• Yaas," answered Kurilla. " Axe chop um white man.
Plenty. Yaas."
"I too can hear something," exclaimed Serge, who had
imitated Chitsah's movements, " though I wouldn't swear
it was chopping."
"Hurrah! So can I!" shouted Phil, after a moment of
intent listening at another tree. "First time, though, I ever
knew that the public telephone service was extended to
this country. The sound I heard might be a train of cars
twenty miles away or a woodpecker somewhere within
sight. No matter. If Chitsah says it's chopping, it must
be, for he ought to know, seeing that he first heard it with
the aid of the tree-telephone. So let's go for it. We can
afford to travel au hour or two in the dark for the sake of
meeting the white man who is swinging that axe."
" Of course we can," replied Serge.
"Ay,ay,sir!" answered Jalap Coombs.
" Me 1) be catch um. Yaas," added Knrilla, sharing the gen-
eral enthusiasm.
An hour later, as they rounded a projecting point, Phil
uttered an exulting shout. A cluster of twinkling lights
shone dead ahead, and our travellers' goal was won.
"Let's give them a volley," suggested Serge. "It's the
custom of the country, you know."
So the guns were taken from their deer-skin coverings,
and at Phil's word of command a roar from double-barrel,
flintlock, and Winchester woke glad echoes from both sides
of the broad valley, and from the rugged Yukon cliffs be-
yond. Then with cheers and frantic yelpings of dogs, the
sledge brigade dashed on toward the welcoming lights.
" Hello the camp !" yelled Phi], as they approached the
dark cluster of cabins.
"On deck!" roared Jalap Coombs, as though he were
hailing a ship at sea.
" Hello yourself!" answered a gruff voice — the first hail
in their own tongue that the boys had heard in many a
week. " Who are you * Where do yon come from ? And
what's all this racket about?"
"White men," replied Phil, "with dog-sledges, up from
Yukon mouth."
" Great Scott ! You don't say so ! No wonder you're
noisy! Hi, boys! Here's the, first winter outfit that ever
came from Yukon month to Forty Mile. What's the mat-
ter witl^giviug them a salute ?"
"Nothing at all!" cried a score of voices, and then volley
after volley rang forth, until it seemed as though every man
there must have carried a loaded gun and emptied it of all
six shots in honor of the occasion.
Men came running from all, directions, and before the
shooting ceased the entire population of the camp, some
three hundred in number, were eagerly crowding about the
new-comers, plying them with questions, and struggling for
the honor of shakiug hands with the first arrivals of
the year.
" Are we really the first to come up ?" asked Phil.
"To be sure you are. Not only that, but the first ones
to reach the diggings from any direction since navigation
closed. But how did you come ? Not by the river, I know,
for when I heard your shooting 'twas away up the creek."
"We came by the Tauanah aud across the Divide," an-
swered Phil. "There is another party coming by way of
the river, though."
•• Hark to that, boys! One train just arrived and another
coming! I tell you, old Forty Mile is right iu it. Daily-
express from all points; through tickets to Europe, Arup,
amlArrap; morning papers and opera-houses, circus and
theaytres. Looks like the boom had struck us at last.
But say, stranger, what is the news from below .'"
"New steamer on her way tip the river, with saw-mill,
mining machinery, and best stock of goods ever seen iu
Alaska," replied Phil, quick to seize the opportunity, and
anxious to make his business known while he still had the
field to himself. We have come from her, and are ou our
way to Sau Francisco to send up a new stock for next sea-
son. So we have only stopped to take your orders and find
out what will be the most acceptable."
"Hurrah!" yelled the crowd, wild with excitement.
" Seud us a brass band," shouted cue. "In swaller tails
aud white kids," added another. "What's the matter
with moving the Palace Hotel up here ?" suggested a third.
" Come, fellows, let up," cried the man who had been the
first to welcome the new arrivals, aud whose name was
Riley. "We mustn't keep these gentlemen standing out
here in the cold any longer. I reckou they're hungry, too,
and wondering why we don't invite 'em to grub. So, men,
just come into my shebang and make yourselves at home.
There isn't much to it, but such as it is it's yours, so long
as you'll honor yours truly."
"No, come with me," cried another voice. "I've got
beans, Boston baked, fresh from the can." " I've got mo-
lasses and soft-tack," and "I've just made a dish of
scouse," "Come with us," shouted others.
"No, you don't !" roared Mr. Riley. "They're my meat.
and they are going to buuk iu with me."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
483
TYPICAL AMERICAN SCHOOLS.
AN DOVER.
BY WILLIAM PHILLIPS GRAVES.
ABOUT oue hundred and sixteen years ago a small
school was started in a carpenter's shop on Andover
Hill. This little school of about twelve boys was the origin
of the great Phillips Academy, which now numbers about
five hundred. Its founder was a certain Judge Samm-l
1'lnllips, a prominent young lawyer and statesman in Mas-
sachusetts during the Revolution. Besides giving inm-li
of his own money to the school, he enlisted the aid of some
of his relatives, all of whom were very rich for those days,
and soon had them so uiucli interested in founding schools
that his uncle, John Phillips, started a similar one in Exe-
ter.Xew Hampshire, and named it Phillips Exeter Academy.
The little academy in Andover did not long hold its ses-
sions in a carpenter's shop. It was soon provided with a
good building by its wealthy founder ; and, with an ener-
getic principal and a fine set of boys, many of whom after-
wards became famous men, the school flourished at once,
and became widely known.
The location of the school has been shifted about on
Andover Hill, for its buildings were several times burned
down. One of them, the Science Building, is said to have
Bto.
A " FOOTBALL '• COACH.
been set on firo by a boy in revenge for having been se-
verely disciplined. Tradition says that he is still living. If
he should risk coming to Andover now, and could see the fine
new Science Building which replaces the one he destroyed,
I venture to say that his conscience would be immensely
relieved.
The present Gymnasium is the old school-house which
Oliver Wendell Holmes attended in his boyhood, and which
he has immortalized in his poem read at the centennial
celebration in 1878:
" The morning came. I reached the classic hall.
A clock face eyed me, staring from the wall.
Beneath its hands a printed line I read —
'Youth is Life's Seed Time;' so the clock face said.
Some took its counsel, as the sequel showed,
Sowed their wild oats, and reaped as they hud sowed.
How all comes back — the upward slanting floor.
The masters' thrones that flanked the master's door,
The long outstretching alleys that divide
The row of desks that stands on either side,
The staring boys, a face to every desk,
Bright, dull, pale, blooming, common, picturesque.1'
The life at Andover is more like college life than at most
schools. The boys have their rooms in private boarding-
houses, or small dormitories on and near the Hill. Here
they do all their studying during day study hours, and
here they must be at eight o'clock in the evening, for at a,
quarter before eight the academy bell begins to toll warn-
liigly until five minutes before the hour, when it rings
rapidly. This means that every boy not within walking
distance of bis home must run, and woe to him who is dis-
covered lingering on the street after eight!
Of course many of the teachers acquire great reputations
as eagle-eyed detectives or lightning sprinters, and tradi-
tions are not dead yet of the hot races that have taken
place between belated youths and some sprinting in-
structor. Sometimes this pursuer is a real teacher, but oft-
en he is only a boy theatrically made up to represent some
dignified teacher, and who is out for a little exercise. I
can remember one genuine race, when the culprit was dis-
covered skylarking around the enchanted grounds of the
"Fein. Seiu." His pursuer, though a heavy man, and with
the worst record in the faculty as a sprinter, maintained a
most lively pace, and the race never ended until our young
friend was dragged, panting and very much scared, from
under his bed.
Besides these boarding-houses there are the famous Eng-
lish and Latin " Commons." These are ranged in rows at
each end of the campus or playground. The houses, which
resemble factory cottages, are not beautiful architecturally ;
but boys do not care for that usually. These rooms are
very cheap, and are primarily meant for boys who cannot
afford the greater luxury of private boarding-houses. Yet
484
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
they are very comfortable, and, from the
greater independence and pleasant dor-
mitory life, many richer fellows are
found there.
The life in these Commons is quite
like college life. In front of each row-
is a low fence, where, as at Yale, fellows
gather of a warm evening and sing
songs and have a good sociable time gen-
erally. Each boy must care for bis own
room; anil every Friday noon an inspec-
tion of rooms is made by the faculty, so
that beds are made up and clothes put
away once a week at IcaM.
The day's work at Phillips begins
at 8.10 in the morning, when, after
much tolling and rapid ringing of the
old bell, the whole five hundred boys as-
semble for prayers in the great Academy
Hall, where hang the portraits of teach-
ers and benefactors and founders of a
century back. Recitations are held
during the day until half past four,
when all hands turn out for a good time. Every tennis-
court and ball-ground is immediately more than occupied.
The first teams begin to practise on the campus, the athletic
team gets to work on the track, ami bicyclers start off in
AN ANDOVEH ROOM.
all directions. Others stroll oft' for a walk to Indian Ridge,
or tin1 old railroad, or Sunset Rock, or Allen Hiuton's. Al-
len Hinton is the famous ice-cream man. No one can make
better ice-cream than he. Besides his fame as an ice-cream
maker, he is the greatest fox-hunter for miles around, and
his stories of fox-hunting and his experiences iu the war
are something worth hearing.
Then " Chap's " is a great meeting-place for those who
like eating better than exercise. Here boys have drunk
soda-water and eaten candy and griddle-cakes, and ruined
their digestions for years and years. The benches and
stalls are so thickly inscribed with names that it is difficult
to find room to carve a new one.
Audover has always been noted for its fine athletic
teams. The great rivalry between Exeter and Andovrr
has brought the standard of athletics up very high, so that
college Freshman teams are usually beaten by the Phillips
boys, and even the Yale and Harvard 'varsity teams often
have no easy task in overcoming them.
For many years the great events of the school year have
been the football and baseball games with Exeter. For
weeks before the game the chief topics of conversation are
the chances of victory and the prospects of this and that
man for the team. As the day for the game draws near,
the excitement increases. Crowds watch the daily prac-
tice, and under appointed leaders work up new cheers or
practise on the old ones, so that those who do not belong to
the teams have at least a chance to beat Exeter at yelling.
Finally the great day arrives. Every man in school who
owns or can borrow a connle of dollars has his excursion
THE ADMINISTRATION BUILDING AND ACADEMY HALL.
ticket, and eight or ten yards of blue and white ribbon with
which to decorate his cane, hat, and button-bole. After the
morning recitation the whole school, supported by half the
town of Andover and certain extraordinary mascots, board
the special train for Exeter, gay with flags and ribbons,
and noisy with tin horns. Even the cars and engine are
draped with blue.
After reaching Exeter a rush is made for the campus, and
a mad scramble for scats ensues. Those who are fortunate
enough to belong to the secret societies have positions on
ga\ ly decked coaches. With Audover men massed on one
side of the field and Exeter men on the other, an alternate
contest of cheering at once takes place, like the (ireck
choruses of old. While waiting for the athletes to appear,
tin- excitement is intense. For real genuine excitement a
Harvard-Yale contest is a dull affair compared with an An-
dover-Exeter game.
When yon are sixteen years old or less, and at Phillips,
yon don't care for close games. Y'ou want to see your own
side make all the runs or touch-downs possible, and al-
though cheering of opponents' errors is strictly against
school courtesy, yet the more points your own team makes.
and the poorer the other plays, the more you feel like yell-
ing and waving your cane and slapping your friend on tin-
back and congratulating yourself that you went to An-
dover instead of Exeter.
Such a contest as this was the baseball game of'-?.
About the seventh inning a mysterious-looking wagon con-
taining something covered with a canvas drove rapidly
across the field and disappeared in the woods behind. This
THE PRESENT GYMNASIUM.
Where Oliver Wendell Uohnes went to school.
485
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
strauge appearance was soon forgotten in the interest of
the game; but the wagon liore the instruments of the Au-
dover Brass Band, who were concealed in the woods, and
whom a loyal citizen had hired in case of victory. At the
end of tlie game, when all Andover was tearing madly on
the field and hearing oft' the victors on their shoulders, the
band appeared on the scene in full blare. Every one fell
in behind them, helping them out with tin horns and cries
of "Left, left, left, the Exeter men got left !" And each
year some new feature like this is introduced.
Then ensues the usual seehe after a victory. The en-
tire wild procession moves to the depot, followed by the
chagrined and more or less angry Exeter men. At the
depot, after some friendly scuffling and snatching of canes
and colors for souvenirs, and deafening cheering on the
part of everybody, the special train moves away for An-
dover, long before stripped of its blue colors, to supply
those who have failed to bring a ribbon for themselves.
On the train the expressions of joy do not cease. Every
brakeman or conductor who ventures inside a car is im-
mediately put up for a speech. The brakemeu often ob-
ject, and smash their red lanterns about on the heads of
small boys, who do not mind it in the least. When An-
dover is reached, all, tired and hoarse, but happy, make for
their boarding:honses fora rousing supper and a little rest
before the time-honored celebration in the evening. At
half past eight this celebration takes place, and all sally
forth, armed with tin horns of huge proportions. Study
hours never count on celebration nights.
According to tradition, the members of the victorious
team are drawn about in a barge by a rope long enough
for the whole school. They are hauled about to the houses
of the faculty. Each teaehcr ist lustily cheered by his
popular nickname, and then called forth to make a speech.
After the round of the faculty houses, the whole mob, not
a whit less noisy for all its exertions, retire to the campus.
In less than twenty minutes a mass of oil-barrels and fence
rails miraculously appears, and is heaped to the size of an
ordinary barn. After a bath of kerosene oil a famous fire
is set going. All join hands around the fire. The captain
of the team is mounted on the shoulders of two sturdy
friends. Every one gathers himself together for one last
shout, and around they whirl in a wild weird dance. Then
the tire begins to die down ; it is getting toward midnight ;
the faculty begin to flit warningly about; all, tired and
scarcely able to talU, go quietly home, and the great cel-
ebration is over.
This is a sample of what takes place after a victory.
After defeat the town in the evening is silent as the grave,
and the depression for several days is quite appalling. In
these games feeling often runs high, but such things as
tights are very rare. At such times Andover and Exeter
men speak disrespectfully of each other, but the chances
are that one's best friends at college may be these very op-
ponents, and perhaps one likes them all the better for hav-
ing once done them an injustice.
But Andover does not go in for athletics alone. In their
studies the boys are so well trained that at college they
usually take high position in their classes without any dif-
ficulty whatever. For those who are inclined to literary
pursuits there is the Pfiillipinn to try for. It is issued
twice a week, and it is considered a great honor to become
a member of the editing board. Then there is the J/ic/vu*
every month, which contains literature of a more solid char-
acter. Besides these then' are yearly publications which
offerprizes for drawings. The Philomathean Society, which
has held meetings for seventy years, is the debating society.
Those who are sensible enough to join this, and practise
speaking before a crowd, receive a training that helps them
wonderfully all their lives. This society and a flourishing
branch of the Y.M.C.A. are powerful influences in the
school. What with the different prize speakings, the glee
and banjo clubs, the track-athletic and tennis teams, and
numberless other organizations, every boy has a chance to
distinguish himself.
Sunday is a delightful day at Andover. The afternoon
stroll with one's best friend in the beautiful country around
is perhaps the pleasantest experience in the week. Boys
are obliged to attend church twice on Sunday, but few
of them object to this compulsory attendance, for the ser-
vices are conducted in turn by the professors of the Theo-
logical Seminary, all of whom arc very distinguished and
interesting men, who never fail to interest their hearers.
The Theological Seminary is situated near the school,
and as is always the case, the men are closer students and
more devoted to their work than are the members of the
Academy proper. That does not mean, however, that
they do not join the latter in their social and athletic life.
Once they had a baseball team that could completely de-
molish the Phillips nine. Their pitcher, a famous Yale
player, was said to be the only man in the country who
could deliver a "snake" curve.
Near Phillips Academy also is situated the Abbot Female
Academy. This is a large girls' school. No uninvited boy
is allowed on these sacred premises, and all intercourse be-
tween the two schools is forbidden. Nevertheless, the
stories of midnight serenaders and of encounters with Pat,
the Fern. Sem. policeman, would till a volume.
Every Andover man loves his school, not only for the
fun and scrapes that he had there, but for the good that he
has received from it. Many of his strongest friendships
were formed there, and much of his success at college and
in after-life has depended on the associations made at
school, while those who have not gone to college feel that
they gained at Andover an education by no means scanty.
A EEVENGEFUL WHALE.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
rriHE ship was under a cloud of canvas. Old H;\nd-
-L some lay on his side away forward near the knight-
hrails, where the rhythmic rise and fall of the bows lulled
him like the rocking of a cradle.
"Say," he drawled, in a lazy voice, " the old ship looks
very gay in the sunset, doesn't she?"
"Waal," said Farmer Joe, "she dew look right peert.
But all the same I don't see no use o' \vastiu' a whole dog-
watch a-lookiu' at her."
"Who arst yer to?" said another sailor.
" Waal," continued Farmer Joe, " what I'm a-thinkin' of
is that Handsome ort to tell us some more o' his whalin'
exper'ences."
Handsome uttered a feeble moan of protest. But the
seamen gathered around him and persisted.
"Well, well," he said at length, "hold on a minute till I
overhaul my recollection-lockers. Let's see; where was I?
Oh yes; I'd got to where I was lost from the Ellen HIII-I/IT,
and was picked up by the whaler Two <'»««;,(*. Well, that
was a rum sort of a go. Yon see the Captain of the Tico
Cousins was very glad to get us, because he was short-
handed, some of his men having deserted at the last port.
So we agreed to work in with his crew until our own ship
was sighted, when he was to put us aboard of her. Of
course we never had any sort of a notion that it was going
to be six months before we got back to the I'.llvii liiirijir.
Say, of all the wearing, tearing things that can come to a
man in this world there's nothing more exasperating than
uaitiug for whales. We pretty nearly went crazy aboard
the Two Cousins, for it was two weeks before the masthead
let go the mighty welcome yell,
" ' There she breaches !'
"The skipper he jumped iijto the rigging and took a
squint, and the next minute he shouted:
"'There she blows — one — two — three! Three good
whales. Lower away lively, you shipkeepers."
"Our crew had hern put in one boat, because the Captain
agreed that we'd do better working together, and of course
he knew we wouldn't run away, because there wasn't any
place to run to. Well, we lowered away and off we went
under oars, because the whales were dead to windward, and
not so very far away either. We had gone about half the
distance, when the boat-steerer said,
" ' There goes flukes.'
" Which meant, of course, that the whales had sounded.
486
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
There was nothing to do except to wait for them to coine
np again. They staid down a pretty long time, which
proved that they were big ones, and then they came np
half a mile dead to leeward of us. We set our little boat
sail, there was a fairly good breeze, and we went dancing
over the waves toward the whales at a good pace. The
first mate of the Tim r«».vi»x had the weather-gage of us,
and he had the smallest whale. The one we were heading
for was a regular old leviathan.
" ' Get in your sail,' whispered the boat-steerer.
"It was done with great caution.
"'Now a good stroke, starboard, to pull her round. '
"We were now in a position to go np to his whalesliip
without being seen ; so the boat-steerer sa\ * :
" 'Now, lads, give way with a will. Jump her; jump
her!'
" We dashed our oars, and the boat sprang forward.
" ' Now !'
"The iron was thrown with a whiz, and as quick as a
flash — yes, as quick as a mouse could dart into his hole —
the whale went down into the sea. The line ran out of
the tub fast enough to make you dizzy. AH of if sudden
— how, I never could tell — there was a kink in the line, and
it fouled for a second in the bow chock. Such a thing meant
destruction to the boat, and as quick as thought J, being
bowman, grabbed the axe and cut the line.
" ' Blast you !' yelled the boat-steerer ; ' what did you do
that for?'
"'Do you want to be towed under?' I said. 'I should
think we'd had enough towing.'
" ' Well,' says he, cooling down a bit, ' there's a fine whale
gone oft" .with a good iron in him.'
"The other boats did not have much better luck than
we did, seeing that their whales got frightened and began
to run. They chased the brutes for two hours, and couldn't
get anywhere near them. Then it commenced to get late,
and the ship hoisted the waif —
" What's that ?" asked Farmer Joe.
"That's the boat recall in a whaler," answered Hand-
sinne: "and when it went up we had to go back to the
ship, where we were jawed by the Captain, and made fun
of by the rest of the crew. Still, we didn't mind that so
very much, because, you know, it's pretty likely to be turn
about in a whaler, and you can't ever tell when an accident
is going to happen to the oldest hand. It was three days
before we saw a whale again. I was on lookout, and I
caught sight of a spurt of spray away down to leeward. I
was hardly sure of it at tirst. but the next second the whale
rose on a sea. and I caught the flash of the sun on his shiny
wet back. So I bawled away as usual,
" ' There blows !'
" 'Only one ?' yelled the, C'aptai'n.
" 'That's all, sir,' says I.
" ' Well,' says he, ' we'll make sure of him, anyhow.'
" So he gives orders to lower away three boats. These
boats were to spread out in running down on the whale, so
that if he sounded he might come up so near one of the
outside ones as to give it a chance to go on before he could
recover from his surprise. Well, we had the outside berth
on the port side, and the mate of the Tiro Cousins he had
the middle. The orders were to keep abreast in sailing
down, and by easing and trimming sheets, according as we
went ahead or not, we managed to do it pretty neatly. We
had got down within two hundred and fifty yards of the
whale, when he began to swim ahead. He didn't seem to
go very fast, but he managed to keep us all about the same
distance astern of him. All of a sudden our boat-steerer
says,
" 'I know him !'
" ' (!et out !' says I ; ' how can you know a whale ?'
'• ' But I tell you I do,' says he, ' and if you had any sense
you'd know him too.'
" ' How would I ?' asks I.
" 'Don't you see the harpoon sticking out of him ?'
" I looked pretty hard, and, sure enough, there was a har-
poon, with a line drifting from it.
" 'That's my iron !' says the boat-steerer.
"'Get out!' says I.
" ' I won't,' says he.
" ' How do you know it's yours?' says I.
" 'Because I made it myself, and 1 know my own work
even when I see it afloat on a, whale's back away oft' in
longitude and latitude something or other.'
" • Then it's the same whale !' says I.
" 'Wight!' says he. 'It's the whale I struck the other
day. ami which got away because you went out and cut
the line.'
" ' It would be a pretty good joke on the whale,' says I,
'if we could get close enough to him to catch hold of the
end of the line.'
" ' It would,' says he, ' and we could begin again where we
left oft' yesterday.'
•' • Shall we try it ?' I asks.
" ' Of course,' says he.
" 'He's stopped swimming ahead, 'says I.
" ' Then we'll soon be close to him,' says he.
"'But if he don't swim ahead the end of the line '11 sink,'
says I.
•• • And we'll go on and heave a new iron into him,' says
he, • and so we'll get him anyway.'
"Well, we sailed on, and occasionally the whale would
swim ahead a little, and then again he'd stop, and we'd gain
on him. By-aud-by we got pretty close, and the boat-steerer
says :
" 4 Let's make a dash now and make fast to him with the
new iron.'
•' With that we got the oars out, and with a jump and a
snort we sent the light boat boiling ahead. Now in all my
life I never saw anything quite as smart as that particular
whale. The minute we began to go ahead, so did he. But
we were so close that old Bacon, the boat-steerer, made up
his mind that we could catch him.
'"Pull hard, lads!' he says; 'pull hard! We're gaining
on him at every stroke.'
"And now it caine to be a regular race between us and
the whale, which was altogether out of the nature of
things. The whale, if he'd been scared, ought to have
sounded. We thought of that afterward, but we didn't
think of it then. The other boats' crews didn't think of it
either, for they were pulling hard too. But owing to the
\\ bale's starboarding his helm a little we were much the
nearest to him. All of a sudden I happened to look over
the side of the boat, and blow me if I didn't see the end of
the harpoon-line dragging along in the water ! Quick as a
wink I let go of my oar and grabbed that line. The next
second I had it in the boat, and had a turn around the
loggerhead.
" ' We're fast !' says I.
" ' Bully for you !' says Bacon.
" ' Hurrah !' says the rest of the crew.
"Then Bacon he sort of half stood np and waved his cap
to the other boats, and pointed to the harpoon and line.
They waved back at us and laughed. Then Bacon says,
" ' Now I'm fast I don't hardly know what to do, because
the whale is just as cool as though he'd never been struck.'
" At that minute, as luck would have it, the whale seemed
to find out what had happened, and he ups flukes and
sounds. He didn't stay down very long, and when he came
np Bacon says,
" ' Now's our time. We'll go right in and give him the
lance.'
"We bent our backs to it and dashed the boat ahead;
but it was not to be our luck to kill just then, for just as
Bacon stood up with the lance the whale hove his tail into
the air and brought it down on the water with a report
like a»caunon. At the same instant he sounded again.
'"He's a regular demon!' says Bacon; 'but we'll get
him yet.'
" In a few minutes he came np again and lay perfectly
still. Once more we pulled upon him, and Bacon got read\
to throw the lance. Again, the whale sounded. Down,
down he went till the line was all out. And then he didn't
stop.
'"Great Scott!' yells Bacon, 'he's trying to tow us
under!'
"Without a second's hesitation he grabbed the axe and
487
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
SUDDENLY TWO GREAT WALLS SEEMED TO SHOOT UP OUT OF THE OCEAN.
cut the line. It was lucky he was so quick, for the bow of
the boat hail been pulled down till the water was flowing
ov&r the gunwales. Another second and we'd all have been
in the water. Again the whale came up and lay perfectly
still, with the tantalizing harpoon fast in his back.
"'Now we'll not fool with that any more,' said Bacon,
the boat-steerer, ' but we'll go on and put in a new iron.'
"We made a good approach, and got up within heaving
distance. liacon stood up, and was just going to let fly,
•when Mr. Whale went down again.
•••Well, that's the most exasperating brute I ever met,'
says Bacon, ' and I'll never leave him till I see him dead.'
"I don't, suppose a whale down under the sea can hrar
•what a man in a boat says, and I guess he wouldn't under-
stand it if he did; but that whale acted as if he knew a
heap. The first thing we knew, the stroke-oar, who was
leaning over the side of the boat, let out a yell and dashed
his oar into the water.
" 'Pull for your lives!' says he.
"We didn't need any second invitation of that kind.
We all dipped our oars, but it was too late. Suddenly two
great dark walls seemed to shoot up out of the ocean, one
on each side of the boat. The boat itself was lifted bodily
out of the water, bending and straining as if it was made
of straw. Looking over the sides, our blood just stood still
at the sight. The whale had come up under us straight
up and down, as if he was a-standing on his tail. He had
opened his terrible cave of a mouth, and had snatched the
boat in it, and now he was holding the little vessel and us
in it a good fifteen feet above the water, while he sort of
rocked back and forward like a child playing with a doll.
'"Give him an iron in his beastly snout!' yelled one of
the men.
" Too late ; and it
wouldn't have done
any good anyhow.
He moved his jaw a
little, and the sides
of the boat bent in
and creaked like pa-
per. With wild yells
we all threw our-
selves out of the
boat, for in another
minute some of ns
would have been
in his throat. He
snapped his jaws
together, crunching
the boat into kind-
ling-wood. Then
he threw himself
end over end, going
down head first,
and lashing out
with his great
flukes. Poor Bill
Johnson got a crack
that broke one of
his legs, and if it
hadn't been for Ba-
con, he'd have
drowned. The oth-
er boats came dash-
ing down to our res-
cue, the boat of the
first mate of the
Tiro Cousin* leading
the way. She was
nearest to us,, and
the mate was shout-
ing words of en-
couragement, when
all of a sudden his
cries changed to
shouts of fear. The
next instant we saw
the waters split
wide open, and the whale came up, back first, with a
crash right under the boat. Boys, I hope, I may never
see South Street again if he didn't drive the harpoon
that was still sticking in his back right through the bot-
tom of her. There she was pinned fast to his back.
"'Give him your lance'!' yells Bacon, who was swimming
and holding up Bill Johnson.
" ' What ! And be killed in his flurry ?' shouted the mate.
'Not much !'
"With that he grabs the spars of his boat, throws them
overboard, and jumps after them, followed by all his crew.
At the same instant the whale lashed out with his flukes
again .and went down, taking the boat on his back. This
time, as good luck would have it, he didn't hit any one.
But we were all thoroughly terrified, for we knew now that
the brute was in a temper, and that he knew what he was
doing. Meanwhile the ship was bearing down on us, and
we bad hopes of being saved. The third boat, too. was
pulling up, but we had not much hopes of her, for we ex-
pected to see the whale attack her. And, sure enough, he
came up a few yards away, without the mate's boat on his
back, and waited for her. When she was close to us he
seemed to utter a snort as he plunged down and made for
her. The steerer of the boat was a cool hand, and he swung
the boat off with a powerful stroke just as the whale came
up and tried to smash her with his flukes. Curiously enough,
the brute seemed to think he'd done for her, for instead of
coining back to take another shot, he sounded, and we never
saw anything more of him. Five minutes later we were all
safe in the third boat, and soon afterward we were aboard
the ship. But, I tell yon, I don't care to have any more
dealings with a whale that's bent on revenge and seems to
know just who it was that hit him."
488
INTERSCHOKASTIC&
IF THE WEATHER is FAIR next Saturday there ought to
be some records broken in tbe Interscholastic games,
both at tbe Berkeley Oval and at Eastern Park. Tbe
Oval's straightaway track is one of tbe fastest in the coun-
try, and with tbe conditions in his favor Washbnru should
win the 100 iu lOf. Hall could take tbe event if be \vould
train, but he seems disinclined to put forth bis greatest
exertions, and so will probably dispute second place
with Moore. In the Juniors for the same distance
Wilson will pretty surely score five points for Barnard.
Syine's injury to his foot may prevent him from com-
peting in any of tbe many events for which he is en-
tered, but if be recovers and gets into condition again
before Saturday be will doubtless be heard fVoui in the 520
and the low hurdles. He ought certainly to win the lat-
ter, with Harris behind him. In the 220 Vom Baur will
push his schoolmate, if be runs; but I should not be sur-
prised if Vom Baur staid out and reserved bis strength for
other work. Wilson ought to win the Junior 220, if his
first heat and the two 100 heats don't tire him. Strattou
will have a place. Tbe quarter-mile seems to be an easier
riddle than most of tbe other events on the card. Irwin-
Martin will undoubtedly take first place, Syuie second (if
be has recovered from the effects of his spiking), and Mee-
hau third. Another reasonable certainty is the high jump.
Baltazzi is sure to take the event for Harvard School, while
Pell and Weuman will struggle for second place, both be-
ing of about equal skill, with possibly a slight advantage
in favor of Pell. Irwin-Martin could win the half-mile if
be ran, but I do not think be will answer tbe call in this
event. I understand he will only enter the 440 and the
hammer, and consequently Pier may pretty safely be count-
ed on to win, with Iiimau and Vom Baur iu the places.
TAPPEN AND BLAIR WILL HAVE A CHANCE to decide,
in the presence of competent judges, which one of them
can run the fastest mile ; and although Blair deserved the
prize at the Sachs games, I think Tappen will lead in
tbe iuterscbolastics. Tbe mile walk, in all probabili-
ty, will rest between Ware and Hackett ; and if Powell
can keep his seat iu the bicycle-race, the order in that
event should be Powell, Ehrich, Mortimer. But Powell
may reasonably be counted on to slip or trip or break
something, and so Harvard School stauds a chance of get-
ting five points there instead of three. Cowperthwait did
20 feet 4 iu tbe broad jump at the Trinity games, and
ought to win the event Saturday ; but Beers will doubtless
cover 20 feet ; and I expect to see Battermau do better
than 19, with Pier close behind him. Between Batterman
and Irwiu-Martin for the hammer it is hard to decide, but
I am inclined to give the preference to the former. He
will have to do better than 106 feet to win, but I doubt if
Irwiu-Martiu can throw 105. Ayers should take third
place, and he will doubtless get second, ill the shot, with
Bigelow ahead of him, and Batterman behind. The re-
maining events on the programme are tbe pole-vault,
which lies between Hurlbert and Simpson, and throwing
tbe baseball, which will be taken by Ayers. He will have
to better bis last year's record of 325 feet, however, for
Zizinia threw 330 feet in practice last -week, and Elmer's
arm is in good condition. It looks now as if four schools
were certain of scoring twenty points or more each. These
are Barnard, Berkeley, Harvard, and Cutler. Barnard's
chances of success will greatly depend on Syme's condi-
tion, for be is their chief poiut-wiuuer ; and it' he fails, then
Berkeley will make a strong bid for the championship.
AT EASTERN PARK tbe performances will not be so good
as at Berkeley Oval, but several of the Long Island rec-
ords will no doubt be considerably bettered. Tbe most
promising candidates for the 100 are Underbill and Steven-
son, titchtield is good at that distance1, but he will doubt-
less be reserved for the hurdles and the broad jump. In
that case Stevenson may be counted on to win. Stevenson
will contest the 220 with Underbill and Jewell, and will
probably take tbe 440. It will be a hot struggle for the
places among Goetting, Jewell, Foster, and Grace. As tbe
new rule shuts Bacchus out of the half-mile, Campbell, Bow-
den, and Goldsborotigb will make a close race. If Bedford
does not save himself for tbe mile, he ought to be heard
from ; and he will undoubtedly take tbe long-distance event,
Romer and Beasly in tbe places. If Berger, who won last
year, is allowed to compete, he is a pretty snre winner for
the bicycle, and be will be followed closely by Roebr. Fo-
rney ought to be prominent in tbe pole vault, and if in con-
ditiou, should win. Jewell aud Streeter will push him.
Barker aud Gunnison have been doing good work in the
high jump, but the event will probably go to Watt or Du-
val. I expect to see Munson take the shot, with Badger
and Slilne iu the places. Herrick aud Litchfield are the
best men for the hurdles, and the latter should easily win
the broad jump. Miinsnn and Bishop ought to rank second
and third. Tbe Junior 100 will be decided among Richards,
Riomla, Robinson, aud Liebman. These men are a good"
deal of an unknown quantity. As the mile walk is a new
event, no safe or just prediction can be made.
SOME OBJECTION MAY BE MADE l)y President Sykes, of
the N.Y.I. S.A.A., to Ehricb's riding in the bicycle-race Sat-
urday, but Ebricb has just as good a right to compete
as any of the. rest. If any protest is made it will be
based on the fact that Ehrich attended the College of the
City of New York last year, and as a member of tbe sub-
Fresbmau class competed in the Intercollegiate games last
spring. But Section 2 of Article X. of the constitution of
the N.Y.I.S.A.A. expressly provides that any boy hav-
ing been a member of the sub-Freshman class at C.C.N.Y.
is not debarred from competing iu games of tbe associa-
ticni provided he is under age and a member of some
school. This year Ebrich is at the Harvard School. By
.--
BARNARD SCHOOL TRACK-ATHLETIC TEAM.
Wiuuei-s ol the N.Y.I.S. Championship in 1894.
riding in tbe Intercollegiates Ehricb classed himself with
college men, possibly without having any right to do so.
That was a question for the I.C.A.A. to settle last year. At
tbe present time, however, Ehrich is a bona Jidc student at
the Harvard school, be is within the age limit required by
tbe I.S.A.A., he has never "attended any college." iu tbe
sense conveyed by tbe rules of the I.S.A.A., and he ha»
489
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
never beeu in business. It seems therefore that lie should
be allowed to rule without protest, so loug as there is no
direct legislation affecting the case.
BASEBALL is IN A MUCH MORE flourishing state of ac-
tivity in New England than it is in New York, although
the N.Y.I.S.B.B. League games have beeu under way here
for two weeks nr more. The championship season began
in Boston on April 25th, and will close on June 7th, when
the Cambridge High and Latin nine meets the English
High-school team. The C. H. and L. has held a leading
position in the league ever since the organization was
started seven years ago, and the team lias never finished
lower than in third place, anil in four nt' thr six seasons
has taken the pennant. This year the work of the players
is well up to the standard set by their predecessors, except
that the batting is weak. The team work is fair, and
Mearns has good control of the ball, but little speed. The
Knglish High-school also came into the league at the start,
and has played a close second to C'.H. and L. ever since.
Ward, who has been a member of every football and base-
ball team since he entered school in 1891, has made an efti-
cient Captain since t lie resignation of Dakin.and will play in
the box. He has speed and good curves, but he is liable to
lose control of the ball when touched up for consecutive
hits. The strength of the Roxbury Latin nine lies in Morse,
the pitcher; but as Captain Ewer is the only player left
from last year, he will have all he call do to mould his ma-
terial for effective team work. Just at present the Hop-
kinsou team is weak. There is plenty of good material at
hand, however, and as Joe Upton, the old Harvard phner.
is coaching the boys, it is possible that at the cud of the
season unexpected strength will be developed. The Somer-
ville High nine is somewhat of an unknown quantity too.
That school has always been unfortunate in interscholastic
athletics, never having finished higher than fourth place in
baseball. Last year every one expected to see S.H-S. win
the series, after they had defeated the Harvard Freshmen
by a large score, but at the end of the season Hopkinson
was the only team in the league that had failed to defeat
them. As to the Boston Latin, there is a noticeable im-
provement over the standard of former seasons, and if the
students will only show interest in baseball work, and sup-
port those who are striving to win glory for them, such en-
couragement cauuot fail to result in higher achievements.
ON THE WHOLE, THE MEMBERS and supporters of the N.E.
I.S. Association should feel well satisfied with the league's
attainments. It has certainly succeeded in the purpose for
which it was formed — that is, to train players for the Har-
vard'Varsity nine. This year no less than seven of the
Crimson's players, including Captain Whittemore, are grad-
uates from the interscholastic ranks. Whittemore was a
B.L.S. player in 1891, and led the league in battiug. On
the several Harvard class teams there is an aggregate of
twenty-five or thirty men who got their early experience
in the league. To encourage sharp work in interscholastic
baseball the Boston A.A. has this year offered a silver cup
as a trophy to be played for during a term of five years.
YALK is .irsr AS MTCII interested in iuterscholastic base-
ball in her neighborhood as Harvard is in Boston and Cam-
bridge, and in l^'.tl offered to the Connecticut Interscho-
lastic League a cup which was to stand for three years, and
Avhich has now become the property of the Hartford Public
High-school by virtue of its successes in 1891, 1892. and l-'.M.
The Connecticut I. S. League has sent many prominent ath-
letes to Yale, some of the best known of whom are Corbin,
who captained the V9 eleven ; Williams, who made the l.YJ
see Is high -hurdle record at the Berkeley Oval in '91;
( 'ail v, who is a star in the same event, but who failed to
come up to Yale's expectations in the international games
with Oxford in London last summer; and Gallaudet, who
stroked the victorious crew at New London in 1B93. The
field meeting of the Con n. High-school A.A. on the Charter
Oak track at Hartford next month promises to be one of
the most interesting contests of the interscholastic season.
Ix BROOKLYN TIIKKE is I'ON<II>KI:ABI.E dissatisfaction in
certain quarters over the recent ruling of the L. 1. 1. S. A. A.,
which debars from competition in Saturday's games any
student who ever attended collegiate exercises at the Poly-
technic Institute. Hitherto the law has always been against
any one who might have entered college and returned to
school: but the prohibition was never exercised against .stu-
dents of Poly. Prep., who, from the nature of their prepara-
tory work, took certain courses in the collegiate department
of the Institute. ' The new amendment specifics that boys
who do not spend twelve hours a week in school recita-
tions,or who have been in business or at college and have
returned to school, shall not be allowed to compete in
scholastic events. Poly. Prep., the Latin School, ami l'.i\ -
ant , & Strattous vigorously opposed the adoption of this
rule, because each one of them has candidates for inter-
scholastic honors who arc alfected by the new legislation.
A moment's thought will show that the question at issue
is a very simple and a very clear one. A boy is either at
school or he is not. That is one of the elementary proposi-
tions of logic. If he is at school, he should enjoy all privi-
leges in interscholastic athletics. If. on the other hand,
he takes certain courses at school and others at college, the
determination of his standing should rest on whether or
not he enjoys, in other respects, the privileges and advan-
tages of a college man. If he is catalogued as a collegian
and is otherwise admitted to collegiate functions or per-
formances, he should be strictly excluded from everything
scholastic. Furthermore, if a boy has left school for busi-
ness or for college, he should not be allowed to compete in
scholastic sports if he fails in his attempts or ambitions
and returns, whether to flic original school or to another.
The new law will put a stop to this inducing of athletes to
attend certain institutions — a practice we hear a great deal
about, but the proof of which is difficult to obtain. Still,
where there is so much smoke there must be some lire, and,
on the whole, I am inclined to believe that the new rule
will tend toward the purification of interscholastic sport.
THE SEVERE RAIN-STORM of April 13th served greatly to
mar the success of the first out-door meeting of the season,
held under the auspices of the Columbia College Union.
By the time the final heat in the bicycle was due, the track
was only fit fora boat-race, and consequently this event
was postponed. The field events were contested under dif-
ficulties, the earth being so wet and soggy that creditable
performances in the jumps were of course impossible. I
wras surprised to see Simpson drop to third in the pole-
vault, but this weakness was undoubtedly due to the bad
weather. The feature of the Sachs School games on the
15th was the inexperience of the judges. There being no
referee it did not take loug for things to get pretty well
muddled up. When the mile run was adjudged to Tappen
of Cutler's, there was plenty of loud talking. Tappen led
to the last lap. when he was passed by Blair of Barnard,
whom he fouled. Blair, nevertheless, beat him out, but the
judges awarded the race to Tappen. This decision caused
a great deal of dissatisfaction, and no end of disputing and
protesting. The judges showed a certain amount of inde-
cision and lack of firmness, and the matter ended altogether
unsatisfactorily. The games, on the w hole, were a perfect
example of bad management.
THE BERKELEY SCHOOL GAMES on the 20th offered no
particularly notable feature except in the matter of timing
the winners. There was a strong sentiment shown on
the part of the officials to record the smallest figures pos-
sible. Moeran was put down for 16J in the high hurdles.
I know he did not cover the distance in an\ such time,
because I stood at the finish line, and held my watch on
him, and caught him at IfiJ. In most of the school games
there is too much of a desire exhibited for record-making,
and the cry of "run for time!" is constantly heard. My
efficiency as a timer may lie inferior, but it is certainly im-
partial. It remains to be seen whether Powell can ride in
2m. 32? sec., as he is said to have done at the Cutler games
on the "2-1 th. His former record was 2m. 30* sete.
THE BASEBALL CHAMPIONSHIP Menu s of the X. Y. I. S. B.
B. A. began two weeks ago, but I regret to chronicle a lack of
490
HAE FEE'S BOUND TABLE
general interest ou the part of the schools in
the K'nm's thus tar. It is too early yet to
judge of the relative strength of the various
nines, hut it looks as if the strongest teams
had been placed in thelirst section, and so the
winner of that series may safely be looked
upon as the prohahlr holder or' the cham-
pionship I'm' ]>;'.">. In IJrooklyn there seems
to be more enthusiasm iu baseball matin-,
and goml work is being done. Poly. Prep,
will undoubtedly develop a strong team,
and. under the captaincy of Stevenson,
ought to earn the privilege of representing
the Long Island League at Eastern Park,
on June fth, unless they succumb to St.
rail's, Garden City. In Hall, the latter
]i;i\r a strong pitcher, and the fielding of
the entire team is good. St. Paul's, however,
lias no excuse for not making a strong bid
for h'rst plan1.
IT LOOKS AGAIN THIS YEAR as if Exeter
and Andover would allow their childish dif-
ferences to interfere, with the annual base-
Ball game which used to be considered one
of the most important events of New Eng-
land scholastic sport. Both schools may
have had very good reason, at the time the
breach between them occurred, to sever
temporarily all relations. I don't c;n< <«
enter into the merits of the controvert at
presc-nt. Km in allow the squabbles of one
general ion of school-boys to be handed down
and cherished by snccec'ding classes — like a
Kentucky feud — is unmanly, and decidedly
unsportsmanlike. THE GRADUATE.
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491
HAKPER'S BOUND TABLE
BICYCLING
This Depnrtr
answer any q
Wheelmen, so
is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will be pleased to
n on the subject, besides inquiries retarding the League of An""'"-""
t possible. Co.r
ipondenta should address Editor Bicycling Department.
THE MAP THIS WEEK is a road map from New York city
to Tarrytown, aud return. The reader will notice at
the bottom of the Tarrytown route map that the route be-
gins at 155th Street aud the Boulevard.
THE BEST ROUTE NOW open to a wheelman is to turn, as.
described last week, from Broadway into 181st Street, aud
go over a bad bit of road until he reaches Washington.
Bridge (2). Ou crossing the bridge turn sharply to tin-
left aud go down Featherbed Laue, which is anything
but a featherbed road. There is a short winding hill as
the road turns eastward into Macombs Dam road. The
latter is in a somewhat better condition than Featherbed
Lane, but it is irregular, narrow, and hilly. It is short,.
however, aud the rider should turn into Fordham Land-
ing road sharp to the left, goiug down an incline until ho
reaches Sedgwick Avenue. Here he turns to the right
northward, follows Sedgwick Avenue for a few hundred
yards, and then takes the left-hand fork where Sedgwick
Avenue turns to the right. The left-hand fork is Bailey
Avenue, and a somewhat long hill may tempt him to coast.
Ou the whole, it is wiser not to do so, however, as there is.
an extremely bad piece of road at the bottom, where it is
wiser to dismount and walk two or three hundred yards.
AFTER THIS THE WHEELMAN takes the first important
turn to the left, goes down a sharp incline and across two-
railway tracks. This is a bad place, and should be taken
slowly and with great care. Immediately after crossing
the track he comes iuto the Kingsbridge road, which is the
turnpike road to Albany. This is macadamized and in ex-
cellent condition, and the run from there into Yonkers is a
delightful one. As lie passes Van Cortlandt Park there are
1 lin-e or four long slight ascents, which, though they do not
look in the distance to be very difficult, are so long that I
would advise him to take them slowly. He will know
when he is approaching Yonkers by striking the asphalt
pavement, which runs into the middle of the town. The
road through Yonkers is direct, passing by the main square
of the towu, where the Getty House is the best place to-
stop, and where bicycles are repaired, though Yonkers is
not by any means half the Tarrytown trip. Nevertheless,
a short stop may be made at Yonkers and another at
Dobbs Ferry, which roughly divides the journey into three
parts.
THE ROAD FROM YONKERS to Hastings is almost straight,
and in capital condition, as, indeed, is most of the road up
to Tarrytown. About a mile from the Getty House the
wheelman passes through Glenwood. Two and a half miles
out of Glenwood he should turn to the left at the fork in
the road, and keep on one mile to Hastings. There is a-
piece of hilly road before running into Hastings. Ou leav-
ing Hastings he should keep to the left and run into Dobbs
Ferry, a half-mile distant. If the wheelman will take the
time aud turn to the left as he enters the town, he will be
shown uiion inquiry the house of Judge Beach (3), which is
the same old manor-house in which Washington signed the
treaty of peace with Great Britain in 1783.
RETURNING FROM JUDGE BEACH'S house to the main road
again, the wheelman passes north out of Dobbs Ferry, and
after travelling a half-mile, turns to the right, runs a quar-
ter of a mile further and turns to the left, aud the road is
then direct to Irviugtou. It will well pay him to take the,
road following the valley down towards the Hudson west-
ward, and stop a moment to see " Suunyside " (4), the home
of Washington Irving. Pulling back to the main road.
again up a hill, the wheelman will find the road from here
to Tarrytown, about two miles iu length, well supplied witbt
hills.
NOTK.— Already published, Map of New York city, No. 809.
492
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Ox RUNNING INTO TARRYTOWN and inquir-
ing for the road to the station, which runs
•westward downhill, a rider can put up at
theMott House near the river. Three courses
are then open to him. He may either take
the train back, if the ride has been sufficient-
ly long already, or he may return by the same
road, or on going up to the turnpike-road
again, turning left northward, he will couie
after a few hundred yards to the Andre
monument (5), which every bicycle rider
who reaches Tarrytown should not fail to
see. Turning back again southward, he
may take the alternative road back to
Yonkers. He may then take the main turn-
pike, which he passed over early in the day,
or, following the alternative road marked
on the chart, may come down through Ki ver-
tlale and the villages along the bank of the
Hudson, meeting the Kiugsbridge road at
Kiiigsbrid"f again.
TIlis Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Yonni
W.-nieii, nncl ihi- KdiKir will be f.leitseil to Hiiswer any question 01
the subject so in AS pos&ible. Correspondents should uddress Editor.
ri^ELL yon what books I read when I
_L was a little girl?'' Molly E -- asks
the question. Why, I am delighted to an-
swer you, Molly. I am very fond of the
little girl I used to be a long time ago. I
can see her now, merrily going to school,
day after day, along a river road bordered
by tall willow -trees, crossing a bridge, and
reaching a pretty little school-house, with
windows giving on the pleasant life of a
river, which all the year round was beauti-
ful in the children's eyes, and which is very
dear in their memories.
IN THOSE DAYS an enchanter, whose name
was Jacob Abbott, was writing wonderful
books for young people. None of you will
ever have greater enjoyment in the books
written for you now than we girls of that
period had in the Rollo Books, in which
Eollo and Lucy, and a pearl of a hired man
named Jonas, and Hollo's father and Rollo's
mother, played important parts. We ate
and slept and travelled with Rollo, we
breathed his mountain air, we studied with
him, and learned a great deal about both na-
ture and morals, without suspecting that we
were being taught. Abbott's histories, CiW-
lemiujne, yapolnin, Charles I., Josephine, ever
so many of them were on my bookshelf,
where I had, a little later, the Waverley
Novels ; nor shall I ever forget the breath-
less pace at which I raced through Ma-
caulay's History of England.
WHEN I WAS fifteen somebody gave mo
Zeatherstoclcmg and The Last of the Mohicans,
and these introduced me to Cooper, whoso
stories I found entertaining and full of a
feeling of out-door life. But for sheer pleas-
ure in a book there never was anything so
lovely as the experience I had, when about
ten, in reading Mrs. Sherwood's stories.
You girls do not know much about them.
but there were The Fairchild Family, and
Little Henry and his Bearer, and a thrilling
tale, the name of which I have forgotten, all
about a very naughty girl who went to live
with an aunt, who spoiled her to such an
extent that when she came home she couldn't
live in peace with her brothers and sisters,
and led the whole family, including her papa
and mamma, a perfectly dreadful life. I re-
member this story with a great deal of af-
fection, and I think the heroine's name was
Caroline, but I am not sure. Anna J!nxx \\ as
a book at this period, ami it was followed
by The ll'idi', Hi/It- World, a dear story, which
I hope many of you will read, for it is prob-
ably in all your Sunday-school libraries.
It was the work of Miss Susan Warner, who
wrote Queechy and other equally excellent
books for girls, after Ellen Montgomery, her
heroine in the first, had stolen our hearts.
I TRUST NONE of yon will ever be so im-
polite as I was when I went to visit my girl
friends. I blush to think of it now, after so
many years; but, do you know, if they had
a new book, I simply seized upon it, and
never stopped till I read it through, so that
as a guest I was of no use, never waking
from my trance until I had finished the last
page of the treasure. Finally one of my
friends, . Jenny V. G., devised this plan, and
carried it out successfully : When she ex-
pected me to visit her for a week, she living
in the country and I in town, she simply
liiil all the books which she knew I had not
read, and never brought them out till I had
gone home again.
You see, my dears, I was not a pattern
for you to imitate. There was not a paper
in existence in my childhood worthy of be-
ing compared with the ROUND TABLE; but
at our school we wrote a weekly paper, con-
tributed to it ourselves, and made a half-
dozen copies to pass around. I began being
an editor quite early in life.
A.DVKRTISEJVtKN'TS.
Awarded
Highest Honors — World's Fair.
•DR;
BAKING
POWDER
MOST PERFECT MADE.
A pure Grape Cream-of-Tartar Powder. Free
from Ammonia, Alum, orany other adulterant
40 YEARS THE STANDARD.
Price Baking Powder Co., Chicago.
493
Impressed on
the Memory
that POND'S EXTRACT is
without equal for relieving
pain, and that no other rem-
edy should be accepted as
"just as good."
Avoid substitutes ; accept genuine only with buff
wrapper and yellow label.
POND'S EXTRACT CO.
76 Fifth Avenue, N. Y.
The price has nothing to Jo
with the
FIT
For ALL of Dr. Warner's Cor-
sets are fitted to living models.
Prices from one to six dollars each.
Stamps, Src.
I BOO fine mixed Victoria, Cape of G.
! H.,India. lapan.etc.. with 111": Stamp
ly 10c. New 8o-p. Price-list IVee.
.-l^t'/fs wanted at 6O$ commission. STANDARD
STAMP CO.. 4 Nicholson Place. St. Louis. Mo. Old
U.S. and Confederate Stamps bought.
Albu
ISO VARIETIES, many rare.
25C.; 500 Mixed Foreign. i6c.;
ST A IWI PS '
varieties United States. 2;c.; o^Peru, 8c.; 8 Brazil. ioc'.; 9 Chin,
roc.; 3 Samoa, 8c.; 6 Servia, roc.; 6 Egypt. 8c.; 6 Persia, 2oc.;
Greece. loc.; 7 Tur'
Edward*. Peek
Turkey, roc.
8 Calumet Ave., Chicago, 111.
100 all dif. Venezuela, Costa Rica, etc., only
IOC. ; 200 nil dif. Hay! i, Hawaii, etc. , only 50c.
A«'tswantedat5(iperct.com. List FktCE!
C.A.Stegmann,2T22EadsAv.,St.Louis,Ho.
var., all dif., Be.; 12 var. Heligoland,
_______ 15c.; 6var. Italy, 185S tolS62, 5c.; 3 var.
Hanover, 5c.: 35 var. C'. American, 50c. Agents wanioil.
F. W. JI1LLEK, 904 Olive St., St. Louis, Ho.
0O worth of stamps for $1. All perfect specimens se-
lf 0 lected friim collection; cannot be bought for tn ice
our price Satisfaction guai'anteed or money refunded.
Send $1 bill. Old Colony Stamp Co., Plainyillc, Mass.
CDCC I 8 Handsome Japan Postage Stamps
rnLL ! f"i'2c.- lOOall different, IOC.; 100 raised, Sc.
j. A. WILSON, 1108 Fairmount Ave., Phila.
POSTAGE ODES.— 50c. and 30c., at 70c. each; the
pair forfl.25. Diamond Stnmp Co.,(ieraiautonu,Pa.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Varying Farm Life.
I live on a farm twenty-four miles from New York city, but am
fond, as you may see from my letter, of reaching out beyond the
farm and farm life and making inquiries about other things. I col-
lect stamps, and have some old coins, one, a 1720 piece, which I found
in the flria one day while cultivating corn. I am sixteen years old.
Could you tell me how to make an induction coil for taking shocks?
Could you also ii-ll me how to make a blow-pipe? I am thinking of
making an electric telegraph. Could you give me some points on it?
1 have the Morse telegraph alphabet, but don't understand it or
know how to use it.
Here is a game to be played when there are manyto play it. Each
one is provided with a slip of paper and a pencil. There are three
persons who are in the secret— a confederate, the clairvoyant, and
medium. Each one writes a word or short sentence on the paper.
The clairvoyant seats herself before the writers, and the medium
rubs her forehead with a handkerchief to put her in a trance.
Then the medium collects the papers, takes any one of them (except
the blank one, which must be left till last), and puts it on the clair-
Toyant's forehead. She makes up a sentence, which sentence must
be claimed by the confederate, who really wrote nothing. Then the
clairvoyant takes it from her forehead to see if she was right. Of
course she reads it, and when the next paper is put on her forehead
relates what she read on the preceding slip, greatly to the amuse-
ment and often the surprise of the writer.
Do you want some riddles?
WIST NVACK. H. A. KRETCHSIAR.
You cannot make an induction coil save at considerable expense,
and even then it, is not as good as the one you may buy for less
money. Apply to any dealer in electrical supplies.
A blow-pipe is simply a small pipe or tube a few inches long and
bent, at a right angle very near one end. Insert one end in your
mouth, the bent end in a gas or even lamp flame, and blow gently.
The effect is a flame many t imes hotter than the still flame.
You can make a telegraph key. Make a walnut or oak base four
by eight inches. Erect two uprights in the centre, one inch apart
and two inches high. Put between them a wood lever six inches
long. In one end of the lever insert a common screw, and from the
base raise a metal contact — a common nail will do — about, two
inches back of the uprights. Any metal surface, as two brass but-
tons, will do for the screw and nail to "click" against, a hand-pin
may be made from the end of a common spool. This key. of a ^. iod
pattern, may be bought for $3, in brass. You can get along wit li»ut
a "sounder." Get some practical operator to show you about the
alphabet. Do not try to learn it. from instruction books. If you do
you will be sure to learn at the same time many faults. TCe want
good riddles — new, not old ones.
Costa Rican Country Life.
Costa Rica, or, translated into English, "rich coast," is the most
progressive of the Central American republics. The people are
very home-staying, that is, they do not like to travel, as do the
English and Americans. They all seem to like their country, and
rightly too, for there are few prettier lands or more delightful cli-
mates. It is very mountainous, but not many very high peaks. All
the way from the port at Limou to San Jose, the capital, there is
grand scenery. Passing along on the train up a steep grade one
looks back and wonders how the road-builders ever got up. In
some places along on the mountain-sides, as the train passes, you
can pick ferns out of one window and out of the other can see the
valley far below, with little houses that look as if built for dolls. In
some of these places it is very dangerous, and the train has to go
very slowly.
Arriving in San Jose and just leaving the station you can see the
city lying below you. A little to the left, and at about the middle,
you can see the large round dome of the cathedral, and a little way
back the large red roof of the new theatre. To the right lie the
new school building and the Plaza de Toros. Entering more into
the city one is surprised and pleased at the numerous pretty parks
that are scattered all through it. San Jose is called the " Little
Paris," as here you can see the Spanish beauties dressed in the latest
Parisian styles. Sunday afternoon is the time when the senoritas
take a promenade in the Parque Central, where the music is playing
and all is gay.
Let us leave the city life and people and look at the poor folks of
the country, who toil that all these city people may be comfortable.
The average country people can neither read nor write, because
until quite a recent date schools have not been general. Although
they cannot read or write, most of them have very intelligent faces,
and are well informed about their position. The houses of these
people are very mean structures, built of only rough boards lapped
over and nailed. The roof is of sugar-cane leaves, or, at the best,
tiles made out of mud and clay baked. Inside the houses there
are rarely more than two rooms, neither of them having other floor
than the bare ground. The cooking range is only a platform covered
•with sand. There are three stones to set the kettles on. The smoke
wanders off through the roof or door, for as a rule there are no win-
dows. The furniture is not very extensive, and consists of a table
and oue or two •• taburetes" (chairs covered with the skin of an ox).
In every house you enter you will find some corner or shelf wbere-
im is placed some image or saint, The picture of their patron saint
is hung on the wall. The house is as free to the chickens, pigs, and
dogs as to the people themselves. The pigs run around, picking up
what can be found to eat on the floor, and then crawl away under
the bed or table and sleep the sleep of the— pig.
The people are generally strong and healthy. Their food consists,
year in and year out, of rice and frijoles (black beans), and the great
Costa Rican bread called tortilla. A tortilla is dried hulled corn
ground on a stone and made into a sort of pancake, which is laid
amongst the ashes and baked. When one has learned to eat it. it is
very good. The^people are not such thieves as they have been rep-
resented to be by many. To be sure, they will steal food, eggs, vege-
tables, and firewood, but nothing more. I have known a mill to be
open for over three months, with valuable tools lying around, but.
never a one missing. The people are very polite, and when passing
one in the road they always say adios (good-by), or buenos dias
(good-day). The men all carry a large knife suspended at the belt,
but it is for such use as we make of a pen or pocket knife.
SAN ,Ti.3B. COSTA RICA. Sir L. E TOWEII.
Ifoano.
A friend of the TABLE and of the School Fund wrote recently to
Jules Verne, telling him about Good Will Farm, and asking him for a
letter to be sold to that American admirer who would bid highest for
it. The great novelist readily responded, and the letter, wholly in
Mr. Verne's own hand, is now in our possession. Of course it is in
French, but here is a translation of it :
JIarc/i 27, 1895.
DEAR SIR,— I hasten to reply to your letter, which is inspired by
such a touching idea. I should be happy if these few lines, which
you request, could contribute, in some slight degree, to the success
of your charitable un<lei't;iking I believe that I have in your coun-
try many friends, unknown but sincere, judging from the letters I
receive. This will afford me an opportunity to pay my tribute of
gratitude to them, and I beg you to accept, with my entire sympa-
thy, the assurance of my sincere regard. JULES VERNE.
The TABLE much appreciates the gentleman's kind act, and warm-
ly thanks him. The original of the letter is to be used in an exhibi-
tion of other similar letters, and at the close of that exhibition will,
with some other rare manuscripts, including one by James Russell
Lowell, kindly given to the Fund by Professor Charles Eliot Norton,
and original letters by Sir Walter Scott, Victor Hugo, Alexander
Hamilton, Charles Dickens, William M. Thackeray, Louis XV. of
France, and Emperor Napoleon I. and others, all belonging to the
Fund through the kindness of its friends.be offered for sale to the
highest bidders.
Our Fund grows slowly. Have you helped it along yet? We re-
print the Mite for your use. Any one of any age may contribute.
Write plainly that no errors may be made in the Honor Roll.
«;<>OD \V1LL, MITE
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL F V X F>
Amount, $.
If yon use this Good Will M ur letter,
order tliat it tuny lie detached Inr tiling. It tbe amount is
ven by more tlrr. one > ontl it'iitor, add blank: I-T tlif ir n:ini.'-.
it attach the added sheet firmly to the Mite, that it may not
•come detached and l.-.t. Ih< In,!.- a ^ivm name in each case,
id write plainly, to avoid erroms on the Honor Roll.
Corner.
John Frame. 936 Main Street, Stevens Point, Wis.. wants to trade
pressed flowers and to correspond about botany. G. Edward Harri-
son, room 70S, Fidelity Building, Baltimore, is interested in amatevir
journalism and wants samples. Similar requests are made by
Claude Reno, 399 Chew Street, Allentown. Pa., who wants to con-
tribute essays and funny paragraphs; and by F. R. Pyne, 717 Grove
Street, Elizabeth. N. J., who wants to join a Chapter that publishes
a paper and that trades stamps. Bert Segal sends money for a
badge, but sends no address.
We should like to oblige Lantie V. Blum by telling the TABLE
about his store, but cannot well do so. Josephine Moulton Shaw-
sends a diagram about the familiar bird-cage and bird illusion.
She also sends "Kink" answers which are correct. She may write
again.
494
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
nim on tlic subject
Editor Stamp De-
This Department is conducted in Hie interest of st
and the Editor will be pleased to answer nny iju
BO far as possible. Correspondents should addre
Brtmeot.
IT is STATED that Germany issued a
special postal card to commemorate the
birthday of Bismarck. Some think the
cards v^i-iv issued by private parties, as
was The caae of the Columbian cards issued
at Chicago.
THE NEW STAMPS of Mexico were given to
the public on April 2d, there being thirteen
adhesive in I lie set, of which two are here
illustrated. Four of the designs represent
the different modes of carrying the mail in
Mexico, and the otber design shows the stat-
ue of Moutezuma.
L. Done. — The Uniled States stamps of current
I.-SIK- lux-iik when lidded, because the paper is brittle.
The thirty-cent siute Department stamp is sold at $4,
the fifteen-cent Justice at $3.
JAMKS ESMONDS.— The Confederate States 1862, ten
juts, is sold at $3, the other? have no value.
EN\VARI> TATNAI.L.— The Hartford die of the United
tair> (Viit'Minial mvelope lias a double line under
the w<ml "Postage." The Philadelphia die shows
only a single line.
S. H.— The prt ol Columbian postal cards is sold
for about fifty rent?..
E. P. Titii'i1. — The blue Special Delivery stamp \vn^
brought out again after tlic orange color was ivtin-il
from use. It i* Hie same plate as formerly used, and
is practically the same stamp as was issued before the
orauge color.
A. S. S. — The stamps used at the period of the cele-
brated " Stamp Act " were for the collection nt reve-
nue. The stamp dealers may he able to supply them,
but it i* hardly probable.
WALTER BAKER & CO.
The Largest Manufacturers of
PURE, HIGH GRADE
.COCOAS AND CHOCOLATES
On this Continent, have received
HIGHEST AWARDS
from the great
Industrial and Food
EXPOSITIONS
In Europe and America.
Unlike the Dutch Process, no Alka-
liea or other Chemicals or Dyes are
used in nny of their preparations.
Their delicious BREAKFAST COCOA IB absolutely
pure and soluble, and costs less than one cent a cup.
SOLD BY GROCERS EVERYWHERE.
WALTER BAKER & GO. DORCHESTER, MASS.
IVORY SOAP
PURE
Dingy carpets can be cleansed and brightened on the floor. Sweep
thoroughly, spread a stiff lather of Ivory Soap over a small surface at a
time, scrub with a clean scrubbing brush and wipe off with a damp
sponge.
THE PROCTER ft GAMBLE Co.. CIN'TI
iniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiifiiinfnniifiiMiiiiiiififniiiiiiiiifiiiiifi
GALLONS TOR 25
s Not of the preparations of coloring £
§ matter atid essential oils so often 5
§ sold under the name of rootbeer, £
but of the purest, most delicious, s
| health-giving beverage possible to
= produce. One gallon of Hires' is 3
worth ten of the counterfeit kind. S
5 Suppose an imitation extract costs £
£ five cents less than the genuine £
£ Hires; the same amount of sugar 3
£ and trouble is required; you save £
| one cent a gallon, and— get an un- £
healthful imitation in theend. Ask =
£ for HIRES and get it.
HIRES!
( Rootbeer (
THE CHA3. E. HIRES CO., Philadelphia.
nun nun iiiiiiiu iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiminiR
HOOPING-COUGH
CROUP.
Roche's Herbal Embrocation.
Thecelebrated and effectual English Cure without
internal medicine. Proprietors, W. EDWARD & SON,
Queen Victoria St., London, England. Wholesale of
E. Fouffera&Co.,3ONortli : William St., N.Y.
FALSE MUSTACHES AND
GOATEES.
Fun f-Ttheboys,
it, n.nij, ],•:,• dlB
Kiiise; Fine hair
I goods. As Sample
• of our looo Novel-
ties, we send one of each with lur^p Catalogue for loc.
R. H. INGERSOLL & BRO., 65 CORTLANDT ST., N. Y. CITT.
WANTED. 100,000 BOYS,
to sell the EUREKA MARKING TAG for
marking hats, etc., now aiid in Summer vacation.
Sells at sight. Send 10 cents iu coin for samples. Ad.
dress Eureka Marking Tag Co., Cedar Falls, Iowa.
FISH
I CATCH 10 TIMES AS MANY with CAPE COD C03I-
POUND; used for fresh or suit water.put a little on
your bait an>l ilattracla fish quickly. We have received
hundreds of testimonials; 81' « ' '"> Guarantee that it is O9 we claim, try ap'kge.
Will last all Summer. SURl'H^E EVERYBODY by y^ur big catches. A 50
CENT PACK AGE will beaent postpai-i for ONLY ID CENTS, (silver or Bt'pa)
tf you mention this paper. ARtfU MFG. CO. , Box 1207, BOSTON, MASS.
CARD
ts 500 c
hour. TOUcan make money with it A font o*
pretty type, alao Indelible Ink. Type Holder. P»1s
and Tweezers. Beat Linen Marker; worth Si <HI.
Sample mailed FREE for K)c. stamps for piustxe on
outfit ari>l lar?e catalogue of 1000 Bargains.
R.jl. IngBrsomi Bro, 66 Cortlaodt St. M.T. City
SEND for Catalogue of
the Musical Instru-
ment you think of buying.
Violins repaired by the
Cremona System. C. STORY,
26 Central St.. Boston. Mass.
BOY^&filRI 3 ARE MADE HAPPY
DU I O "UlnLOby.scndinrtlieirnameaDdaddresson
a postal card to BOOR.IIAN * J'ARKEH, 17.1, 5lh AYE., Cllic«Bo.
PLAYS
Dialogues, Speakers, for School,
I'lub and Parlor. Catalogue free.
T. S. DENISON,l'ub.CMcago,Ul.
><X><XXX>O<><><XXXKKKXXK>O-
Oommil b ft^mor^ |
the best things in Prose and Poetry, always includ-
ing good Songs and Hymus. It is surprising how
little good work of this kind seems to be done in
the Schools, if one must judge from the small num-
ber of people who can repeat, without mistake or
omission, as many as Three good songs or hymns.
f bur, jSIjnrp, JWmtl0t
and accurate Memory work is a most excellent
thing, whether in School or out of it, among all ages
and all classes. But let that which is so learned be
worth learning and worth retaining. The Franklin
Square Song Collection presents a large number of
and Hymns, in great variety and very carefully
selected, comprising Sixteen Hundred in the Eight
Numbers thus far issued, together with much
choice and profitable Reading Matter relating to
Music and Musicians. In the complete and varied
01} ©mtlmtta,
which is sent free on application to the Publishers
there are found dozens of the best things in the
World, which are well worth committing to mem-
ory; and they who know most of such good things,
and appreciate and enjoy them most, are really
among the best educated people in any country.
They have the best result of Education. For above
Contents, with samp'le pages of Music, address
Harps; & Brothers. New York.
495
SISTER SUB'S DREAM ABOUT BROTHER TOMMY.
AN IRON PLUM.
THE London coster has become a very interesting char-
acter, and many songs, and good ones too, have lieen written
about his virtues .-ind his weaknesses. Some of these street
venders have made fortunes, and have retired to live the
"balance of their days in ease. One of these retired gentle-
men was interviewed not long ago by a London newspaper,
and in the course of the talk he showed how some of them
Tiad managed to grow rich so speedily.
"The costers wot sold plums made the money," he said,
" an' a bloomiu' big part of it came from wot they calls the
iron plum. A fair take in that was. You wouldn't have
known it from a real 'nu — colored just the same, and with
a good bloom on it. Course you took care to keep it close
at hand, and at your side of the heap yon was selling from.
' Come and have lumping weight,' says yon, and yon popped
the iron 'nn in among the others, and wallop went the scale,
•with pVhaps no more than half a p'und instead of a p'niid
in.
"All you had to do was to take just one — the one, as
"beiug rather too much of a good tiling in the way of over-
weight, just as you were handing the plums to the cus-
tomer, and the trick was done. It was bowled out, though,
"in a mm sort o' way before it had been in use long enough
to do any of 'em so much good. I had a pitch in Leather
Lane at the time, and it being plum season, I was working
the bullet, as we used to call it, and so was the woman who
kept the stall nest to me. There used to be a beadle sort
of chap to keep order in the lane, and he was always un-
common handy at spotting the finest fruit on a man's liar-
row and whipping it into his mouth without so much as
asking for it. Course yon couldn't say anything against
it, or you might set up his back against you. So one day
he was coming round as usual, and he spies that partieler
fine black plum on the woman's stall, and before she could
prevent it he had hold of it. I s'pose it was her pouncing
on him so quick confused him, and prewented him feeling
4he extra weight of it. ' Don't take that 'nn, Mr. Grabbum,'
she said; 'it isn't ripe. Let me pick you out a ripe'nn.'
T3nt old Grabbum he only grinned and winked, and popped
it into his mouth. But he didn't keep it there long. He
made one bite at it, and then he began to dance and splut-
ter, which, being an uncommon thing for a beadle to do,
soon brought a crowd round him. But it was wuss thau
we had first thought it was. We didn't kuow that the
greedy old warmeut had false teeth, but he had, and he
broke Vm all to shivereens along with the iron plum,
which fell with such a whack on the pavement that there
was no mistaking what it was made for."
A SMALL BOY'S ANSWER.
AT a country school in England it is said that one of the
-examiners in a general exercise wrote the word "dozen"
on the blackboard, and asked the pupils to each write a
sentence containing the word. He was somewhat taken
aback to find on one of the papers the following sentence,
" I dozen know uiy lesson."
A STUPID BUTLER
SPANISH people seem to suffer from the stupidity of some
of their servants as much as we do in America, if the fol-
lowing story, which appeared in a Madrid journal, is true.
It seems that a lady ordered her butler one morning to tell
all visitors that she was not at home. At night, when
enumerating the persons who had called during the day,
he mentioned the lady's sister, when his mistress exclaim-
ed: " I told yon, man, that I was always at home for my
sister! Yon ought to have shown her in."
Next day the lady went out to make a few calls, and
during her absence her sister came to the house.
" Is your mistress at home ?" she asked the butler.
" Yes, madam," was his reply.
The lady went up stairs, and looked everywhere for her
sister. On coming down stairs she said to the butler, "My
sister must have gone out, for I could not find her."
"Yes, madam, she has gone out, but she told me last night
that she was always at home for you."
STRUCK TOO SOON.
NAPOLEON BONAPARTE at one time contemplated an in-
vasion of England, and so certain was he of success that he
had a medal struck in Paris in honor of the event. Only
one specimen has been left to posterity, because at the
failure of the bold enterprise he expressly ordered the med-
als and dies to be destroyed. On one side is the Emperor's
half-length portrait, on the reverse is the image of Her-
cules stifling the giant Antaeus in his arms. On the top
are the words, "Desceute en Augleterre,"and underneath,
" Frapp*} a Londres " (Struck in London). This remark-
able bit of coinage is said to be still preserved in the Paris
Mint.
AN INDEPENDENT BARBER.
HERE is an entertaining story about a Frenchman who
was too proud to do things which were against his princi-
ples. The story is vouched for as an actual fact by the
man to whom the incident happened. While travelling in
Europe he stopped overnight at Caen, and noting that his
hair was unduly long he went to have it cut by the local
barber. He told the barber to take off very little, but be-
fore the scissors had been at work many seconds he noticed
a favorite lock fall on to the calico jacket in which he had
been arrayed. Whereupon he reproved the barber for not
following bis instructions, upon which the man observed,
in mingled tones of reproach and dismay,
"Monsieur must permit me -to do my work in the way
which seems best to rue ; and what is more, I shall take off
some more."
" Not at all," said the traveller; "I tell you I want very
little taken off, and must insist upon your doing as I direct
you."
The barber, however, was not to be put down in this way,
and said. •• Monsieur, it is possible that this is how things
may be done in England, but here in France we are not
slaves. I shall cut off as much as I please."
496
HARPEKS
ROUND TABLE
] X
Copyright, 1895, by H»
:s. AH Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. Sir.
NEW YORK. TUESDAY. MAY U. 1S'.)5.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO nnl.T.AItS A YKAR.
I
HEROES OF AMERICA.
THE FIGHT .AT HAMPTON ROADS.
BY THE HONORABLE THEODOKE ROOSEVELT.
AVAL battles of the civil war have
an immense importance, because
they mark the line of cleavage be-
tween naval warfare under tlie
old anil naval warfare under the
new conditions. From the days
of the defeat of the Spanish Ar-
mada, for two centuries and a
half, the fighting at sea was car-
ried on ill ships of substantially
the same character — wooden sail-
ing ships, carrying many gnus mounted in broadside.
Howard, Drake, Blake, Tronip, De Euyter, Nelson, and all
the other great admirals, and all the famous single-ship
fighters — whose skill reached its highest expression in our
own navy during the war of 1812 — commanded craft built
aud armed in a substantially similar manner, and fought
with the same weapons and under much the same con-
ditions.
But in the civil war weapons and methods were intro-
duced which caused a revolution greater even than that
which divided the sailing ship from the galley. The use
of steam, the casing of ships in iron armor, and the em-
ployment of the torpedo, the ram, and the gun of huge
calibre, produced such radically new types that the old
ships of the line, became at one stroke as antiquated as the
galleys of Hamilcar or Alcibiades. All of these new en-
gines of war were for the first time tried in actual combat,
and some of them were for the first time invented, during
our own civil war, and the first occasion on which any of
the new methods were thoroughly tested was attended by
incidents which made it one of the most striking of naval
battles.
In the Chesapeake Bay, near Hampton Roads, the I'niled
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
States lincl collected a fleet of wooden sliips; some of them
olcl-stvlr sailing vessels, others Ntenniers. The Confed-
erates were known to lie building a great iron-clad rain,
ami I lie wooden vessels were eagerly watching lor lier ap-
pearance when she should eoine out of (iosport Harbor.
Her powers and capacity were utterly unknown. She was
made out of the former United Stall's steam-frigate Merri-
IHIII: ml down so as to make her fore and aft decks nearly
Hat and not much above the water, while the guns were
mounted in a covered central battery with sloping flanks.
Her sides and deck were coated with iron, and she was
armed with formidable rifle guns, and, most important of
all, with a steel ram thrust out under water forward from
her bow. She was commanded by a very gallant and
efficient officer, Captain Tattnall.
It was March .", lHfi-2, when the ram at last made her
appearance within sight of the Union licet. The day was
calm and very clear, so that the throngs of spectators on
shore could see every feature of the battle. With the
great ram came three light gunboats, all of which took
part in the action, harassing the vessels which she assailed ;
Imt they were not factors of importance in the fight. On
the Union side the vessels nearest were the sailing ships
t'lniilii'i'tttiiil and Congress, and the steam-frigate Minnesota.
The ('ongrt-KK and Cnmberlunil were anchored not far from
ea.ch other; the Minnesota got aground, and was some dis-
tance off. Owing to the currents and shoals and the lack
of wind no other vessel was able to get up in time to take
part in the light.
As soon as the great ram appeared out of the harbor she
tunned and steamed steadily toward the Conyrens and the
Cumberland, the black smoke rising from her funnels, and
the great ripples running from each side of her iron prow
as she drove steadily through the still waters. On board
of the Coniirrxn and Cumin -i-luiul their was eager anticipa-
tion, but not a particle of fear. The officers in command.
Captain Smith and Lieutenant Morris, were two of the
most gallant men in a service where gallantry has always
been too common to need special comment. The crews
were composed of veterans, well trained, self-confident, and
proud beyond measure of the flag whose honor they up-
held. The guns were run out, and the men stood at quar-
ters, while the officers eagerly conned the approaching
ironclad.
The Congress was the first to open fire ; and as her vol-
leys flew, the men on the Cumberland were astounded to
see the cannon-shot bound off the sloping sides of the ram
as haildrops bound from a window-pane. The rani an-
swered, and her rifle shells tore the sides of the Congi-fxx .•
but for her first victim she aimed at the Cumberland, and.
firing her bow guns, came straight as an arrow at the little
sloop of war, which lay broadside to her. It was an abso-
lutely hopeless struggle. The Cumberland was a sailing
ship, at anchor, with wooden sides, and a battery of light
gnns. Against the formidable steam ironclad, with her
heavy rifles and steel ram, she was as powerless as if she
bad been a row-boat; and from the moment when the men
saw the cannon-shot bound from the ram's sloping sides
they knew they were doomed. But none of them flinched.
Once and again they fired their guns full against the ap-
proaching rain, and in response received a few shells from
the great bow rifles of the latter. Then, forging ahead,
tin- Mi-rrimni- struck her antagonist with her steel prow,
and the sloop of war reeled and shuddered, and through
the gn-at. rent in her side the black water rushed.
She foundered in a few minutes; but her crew fought
her to the last, cheering as they ran out the guns, and
sendingshot aftcrshot against the ram as the latter backed
off after delivering the blow. The rush of the water soon
swamped the lower decks, but the men on the upper deck
cont inned to serve the gnns, and tired them until t he deek
was awash, and the vessel had not ten seconds of life left.
Then, with her Hags flying, her men cheering, and her gnns
firing, the I 'iniiln rlinul sank. It was shallow \\hejv she
settled down, so that her masts remained above the water.
The glorious Hag for which the brave men aboard her had
died Hew proudly in the wind all that day, while the fight
went on, and throughout the iiight; and next morning it
was still streaming over the beautiful bay, to mark the
resting-place of as gallant a vessel afe ever sailed or fought
on the high-seas.
After the Cumberland sank, the ram turned her attention
to the CongreK*. Finding it difficult to get at her in the
shoal water, she began to knock her to pieces with her
great rifle guns. The unequal fight between the ironclad
and the wooden ship lasted for perhaps half an hour. By
that time the commander of the Coni/i-mx had been killed,
and her decks looked like a slaughter-house. She was ut-
terly unable to make any impression on her foe, and finally
she took fire and blew up. The Minmnotn was the third
victim marked for destruction, and the Mirrimae began the
attack upon her at once; but it was getting very late, and
as the water was shoal and she could not get close, the
ram finally drew back to her anchorage to wait until next
day before renewing and completing her work of destruc-
tion.
All that night there was the wildest exultation among
the Confederates, while the gloom and panic of the Union
men cannot he described. It was evident that the United
States ships-of-war were as helpless as cockle-shells against
their iron-clad foe. and there was no question that she could
destroy the whole fleet with ease and with absolute im-
punity. This meant not only the breaking of the blockade,
hut the sweeping away at one blow of the. North's naval
supremacy, which was indispensable to the success of the
war for the Union. It is small wonder that during that
night the wisest and bravest should have almost despaired
of the Union.
But in the hour of the nation's greatest need a champion
suddenly appeared, in time to play the last scene in this
great drama of sea warfare. The North, too, had been try-
ing its hand at building ironclads. The most successful of
them was the little Monitor, a flat -decked, low, turreted
ironclad, armed with a couple of heavy gnns. She was the
first experiment of her kind, and her absolutely flat sur-
face, nearly level with the water, her revolving turret, and
her utter unlikeuess to any pre-existing naval type, had
made her an object of mirth among most practical seamen ;
but her inventor, Ericsson, never despaired of her. Under
the command of a gallant naval officer, Captain Worden,
she, was sent South from New York, and though she almost
foundered in a gale she managed to weather it. and reached
the sci- ne of the bat tie at Hampton Roads at the hour of the
nation's sorest need.
Early the follow ing morning the Mcrrimav again steamed
forth to take up the work she had so well begun, and to de-
stroy the Union fleet. She steered straight for the J/iniif-
«otn : but when she was almost there, to her astonishment a
strange-looking little craft advanced from the side of the
big wooden frigate and boldly barred the Mi n -'mint's path.
For a moment the Confederates could hardly believe their
eyes. The' Monitor was tiny compared to their ship, for
she was not one-fifth the size, and her queer construction
and odd look made them look at their new foe with con-
tempt; but the first shock of battle did away with this
feeling. The Merrimac turned on her foe her rifle guns, in-
tending to blow her out of the water, but the shot glanced
from the thick iron turret of the Monitor. Then the Moni-
tor's guns opened fire, and as the great balls struck the
sides of the ram the plates started and her timbers gave.
Had the Monitor been such a vessel as those of her type
produced later in the war the ram would have been sunk
then and there; but as it was her shot was not quite heavy
enough to pierce the iron walls. Around and around the
two strange combatants hovered, their guns bellowing
without cessation, while the men on the frigates and on
shore watched the result with breathless interest. Neither
the Mfrrimac nor the Monitor could dispose of its antago-
nist. The rani's gnns could not damage the turret, and the
Monitor was able to dexterously avoid the stroke of the for-
midable prow. On the other hand, the shot of the Monitor
could not penetrate the Merrimm-'s tough sides. Accord-
ingly, fierce though the struggle was, and much though
there was that hinged on it, it was not bloody in char-
acter. The Merrimnc could neither destroy nor evade the
Monitor. She could not sink her when she tried to. and
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
when she abandoned her and lurned to attack one of the
other \vooden vessels tbe little tnrreted ship was thrown
across her path, so that tbe fight had to be renewed. Botb
sides grew thoroughly exhausted, and finally tbe battle
ceased liy mutual consent. Nothing more could be done.
Tbe rani was badly damaged, and there was no help for her
save to put back to the port whence she had come. Twice
afterwards she came out, but neither time did she come
near enough to the Mmiitur to attack her, and the latter
could not move oft' where she would cease to protect tbe
wooden ships. Tactically it was a drawn battle, neither
ship being able to damage the other, and both ships being
fought to a standstill; but the moral and material effects
were wholly in favor of the Monitor. Her victory was
hailed with exultant joy throughout the whole Union, and
exercised a correspondingly depressing effect in the Cou-
federacy, while every naval man throughout the world who
possessed eyes to see saw that the fight in Hampton
Roads had inaugurated a new era in ocean warfare, and
that the J/bniforand Merrimac, which had waged so gallant
and so terrible a battle, were the first ships of the new era,
and that as such their uames would be forever famous.
A HINT.
BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER.
IF only you'll think of it. dearie,
When people are vexing and rude,
And be pleasant for two,
When one's scolding at you,
You will conquer the contrary mood.
If only you'll think of it, dearie,
When a certain troublesome elf,
With pease in his shoes,
And a look of the blues,
Comes calling upon you himself —
If only you'll think of it, dearie,
And laugh, like the sun, in his face,
He will scamper away ;
You'll be happy all day ;
And I'd like to be in your place.
A CHINESE ENTERPRISE.
WE are all more or less interested nowadays in China
and the Chinese. They are a curious people, and their
customs are so different from those of other nations that to
us, who are proud of being civilized, they sometimes seem
quite ridiculous. What civilized nation would provide a
regular home for beggars, for instance — not as a matter of
charity, for all civilized people do that, but purely in the
line of business? Yet the Chinese do this, if the following
story told by a German newspaper is true. According to
this journal, the Kleine Chr(mik,a joint-stock company in
Peking erected some years ago a large building termed Ki-
mao-fan, or heu-feather-house. It is to be used as a uight
refuge for the begging population of the Celestial city. A
monster. feather-bed covers the whole floor of one of the
largest rooms. Old and young, all are admitted without
distinction. Each settles down for the night as comfort-
ably as he can in this ocean of feathers. At first each
sleeper received a small blanket, but it was found, subse-
quently, that these blankets very soon disappeared, being,
probably appropriated by the servants of the establishment,
so an enormous common blanket, full of round holes through
which the beggars at rest on the feathers can thrust their
heads for air, was made, large enough to cover the floor of
the whole room. In the day-time this general blanket is
drawn up to the ceiling by ropes and pulleys, and at night,
when all the company are in their places, it isletdo\\n.
and then the beggars have to look sharp to get their heads
through one of the holes lest they run a good chance of
being suffocated. Tbe same in the morning, they must be
careful to draw their heads out of the hole at the first
stroke of the tomtom, when the blanket is again lifted from
the huge nest lest they be drawn up to the ceiliug and
banged.
THE FORGOTTEN GUNS.
BY EARLE TRACY.
BASCOM and Captain Lazarets boy Narcisse were diving
in ar the croaker bank.
" Bet you I can stay under twice as long as you can,"
Bascom said, as he and Narcisse balanced on the edge of a
row-boat. " Oue — two — three — jump !"
There was a sharp smack as both boys hit the water at
the same instant, and then the ripples gurgled over them.
The black head of Narcisse came up again very scion, and
lie puffed and blew. He was a big, thick-set, older boy than
Bascom, but short-winded and inclined toward laziness.
He bad time to turu on his back and catch his breath at
leisure before Bascom reappeared. "I was study in' me
'bout goin' down a ft ah yon, "he drawled.
But Bascom ,iid -lot answer until he had rested a minute
with one hand ou the gunwale of the boat. He was very
white. "I — beat — you," he panted at last. "I— tole
you — I would." His breath was coming back to him in
big draughts that he could scarcely swallow.
"Yo' can beat me a-pullin' right now if yo' want to,"
Narcisse offered as they climbed into the boat.
Bascom was glad enough to take the oars. He was
breathing again, and he would rather do anything than
keep still. He wanted to shout and clap his hands and
jump, but he did not wish to excite the curiosity of Nar-
cisse. The hot afternoon sun poured generously over them
and dried their bathing-suits into e very-day clothes.
A sound of hammering came from one of the schooners
at anchor near the landing. "I hear Captain Tony," Bas-
com said. " I reckon I'll get out here."
"I didn't guess yo'd pass by de little Mystery," Nar-
cisse answered, with a good-natured grin. All Potosi was
used to Bascom's devotion to the boat which he and Cap-
t:im Tony had won by bringing it safely through the great
Gulf storm the year before. Narcisse was no sooner out of
sight, however, than Bascom forgot even the Mystery in
the excitement it had 1 n so hard to suppress.
"Ciip'n Tony," he cried, fairly stammering with eager-
ness— " Cap'n Tony^I — I — found a buried cannon on the
croaker bank !"
" W-w'at f" said Captain Tony, wondering.
"It's all crusted up with barnacles, but I know it's a
cannon," Bascom insisted. "I felt all round it, and inside
of it too."
Captain Tony lifted his cap a little and then drew it
down over his eyes again incredulously. " I guess it can't
be true," he said at last. "I have never hear me 'bout
any cannon sunk in de bay, an' I know all de story of ole
time."
Bascom was prancing up and down in a perfect fever of
impatience. "It must have been ever so long ago, the
pirates or the Spaniards,'' he said. "An' if there's a cannon
there must ha' been a ship sunk there, an' if there was a.
ship there must be a treasure, an' we're not a-goin' to
say nothin' to nobody, but we're a-goiu' to fish it all
up!"
Captain Tony put a hand on Bascom's shoulder to keep
him from squirming. "Yo'boy,"he said, with the warm-
hearted indulgence he always felt for the young waif \\ ho
had become his business partner, "I doan t'ink me dar if
dere is a cannon dere it will run off — not dis evenin' ; an' fa w
de treasure, it was without doubt mo' easy to remove. Mo.s'
likely it run away good w'ile ago."
•• Well, I'm goin' to look an' lie sure," Kascom said. " \Ve
must get the cannon, anyways, and have her ou the Mys-
tery."
The Captain chuckled. "Us'es '11 raise sail," he said, "an1
jus' run out befo' de breeze dies down." They might more
easily have rowed, but Tony and Bascom seldom went any-
where without the Mystery, except on land.
When Narcisse was rowing leisurely toward his father's
point ou the back bay. lie saw the litlle Mi/*t<-ri/ put mir
from shore and presently east anchor at the croaker bank,
and he put two and two together clumsily.
"Might 'a' known Bascom wouldn' drown hissc'f lil-
499
HAMPER'S ROUND TABLE
faw t'uu," he meditated. "He has suah fonu' something."
lie rested on bis oars and pondered quite a while. "If
llasroin has t'linn' somefing, I doaii' see why I didu' fin' it
too. May lie I did. My han' touched bottom, an' I recollec'
I felt somct'ing me. Bascom think lie sma't not to have
tell, lint I did not tell either, me ;'" and suddenly Narcisse
set to rowing.
Al'irr liaseom dropped anchor on the croaker bank, Cap-
lain Tony poised himself and dived. Bascom waited for his
reappearance, with hands clinched. Tony did not stay
under as long as the boy had, but he was almost as excited
as soon as he came up.
" I didn' tin' 'em at de firs'," he panted, " but. dere are two
at de leas'. I put my han' on clem. It inns' have been a
great ship, Imt, I do not know 'bond her. It mils' be ver',
ver' ole, de mos' ole of all."
" How ean we get 'em up ?" gasped Bascom.
" Ah," said the Captain, " dat will be de tronb'. It will
take a win'Jass an' grappliu'-irous an' mo' men. It will be
de question if it pay."
"Couldn't ns'es do it by ourselves?" Bascom pleaded.
His whole little self-dependent life had strengthened his
tendency to look out, for himself. The more there were to
work for the treasure the more there would be to share
it.
" No," said the Captain. "Tek a pile of men to raise dose
cannon."
"Then," put in Bascom, eagerly — "then le's ask Captain
Lazare" an' Narcisse to help. Me an' Narcisse was here to-
gether when I found 'em."
The Captain knit his brows and looked up the bay. " I
guess elat a good idea," he said. "Lazare' prett' sharp, but
dey won't be much chance faw anyt'ing but straight wo'k.
I see dey's a-raisin' sail on de Alphonsine."
"I'll row across an' speak to him when he passes," said
Bascom.
But there was 110 need ; Lazare"'s schooner headed tow-
ard them from the first. As it came slowly about and an-
chored close to theirs Captain Tony gave Bascom a swift,
inquiring glance, hut Bascom shook his head. Then he
shouted cheerfully,
"Ho there!"
"It strange clat yo' are jus' wheah we come," Lazare!
said. "Did Bascom fin' it too ?"
" Fiud what?" said Bascom, on his guard.
"At de bottom, w'en yo' was diviu'," continued Lazare',
coolly. " Narcisse he fin' somesing, an' I fought me I
bettah jus' to come an' see w'at to do 'bond it."
" Narcisse didn't find nothin'," Bascom exclaimed, hotly.
"He didn't stay under a second. If he thinks he found
auythiu', what color was it, an' how did it feel? Was it
dead? All' where did it come from?"
"I didn' want to drown myse'f like yo'," Narcisse au-
swered. "I was faw gettin' home and tellin'."
"No you wa'n't," cried Bascom, fuming. "You know you
wa'u'ta-stiidyin' about iiothin'. You didn't look like you'd
ever seed anythin' in your life."
"De way is," said Lazare', " dat de oue was jus' as big a
fool as de odder. Dey both come 'long pertendin', instead
of talkin' it, ovah like men an' agreeiu' to share it. Have
yo' been down yet, Tony, to see w'at yo' t'ink ?"
"Yes," said Tony; "I been down. Us'es was sayin',
Bascom an' me, dat maybe yo'-all like to go in will us
raisin' dose cannon." Bascom pulled his sleeve, but he
went right on. " Dere may be a little money in sellin' 'em
faw a show, au' den Bascom he say he want oue on de
Mystery."
Bascom looked relieved, and Narcisse disgusted, but there
was nothing to gather from Captain LazariS's face.
"Dat was w'at I fought," he said. "Dere ain't nosing
go in' on, an' anysing we can make is dat much ahead."
It was in this .spirit, that work was begun the next day.
Not a word was said about the possibility of treasure, yet
every one knew that they were treasure-hunting. In these
haunts of the old pirates children were brought up on le-
gends of buried gold. But Bascom became perfectly ab-
sorbed in the guns. They could not be accounted for. No
one in all the country remembered seeing or hearing of the
wreck of a war-vessel in the bay. Nothing like that had
happened during the war ; the bay was too shallow for any
modern ships. Its shoals were what had made it so at-
tractive to the pirates, but the fate of all the pirate boats
was known, and none had ever been lost there, nor had
they ever sunk a victim inside the islands. Everything
pointed to the old discoverers, the Spaniards and the
Frenchmen. Bascom, who had taken small interest in the
history of that or any other region, began to cram his mind
eagerlj- with everything in the shape of legend or record or
theory until the early days of the coast were at his fingers'
ends.
The bay was thick with boats to watch the raising of
the first gun. It, had taken a long time to get the grap-
pling-irons fastened. There was not a suit of diving ar-
mor to be had, and the men were obliged to go down again
and again before they could pry the gun far enough out of
its hard bed of shells to be grasped. When at last they
felt it yielding to the windlass there was a big cheer, and
then a breathless pause. The gun came on deck coated
with shells and almost choked with barnacles and rust.
Bascom flung himself atop of it and began to scrape. The
others crowded over him. But there were no distinguish-
ing marks. What he could disclose of the gun's surface
showed it to be of some iilloj1 similar to bronze. It was
simply formed, and though not like any modern gun, neither
Bascom wit!;, his new knowledge, nor any one else who saw
it, could find anything by which to guess its age. Of all
the queer things that from t4me to time had made their ap-
pearance in Pontomoc Bay it was the most mysterious.
" You sho'.ihl sell it to some big museum," said a New
Orleans man who had come aboard from his row-boat.
"They'll have to pay ns'es our price before they gets it,"
Bascom said; "things don't come so cheap that have been
laid by and saved so keerful for hundreds and hundreds of
years."
"They are mo' of them clown there," began Captain La-
zar<>, whose gray hair was wet and clinging to his hard old
head from diving to superintend. "Le's not be a-wastiu'
time, boys."
"I would bring up everything there is in the way of
wreckage," added the. gentleman ; "it may help to identify
the guns."
But nothing that was ever said or found threw any light.
The fragments of worm-eaten timber which they brought
up seemed to have been rudely hewn, and riveted with
wooden pegs for bolts. It was old, old, old — and there the
story ended.
On the clay that they were raising the sixth gun, the
last they ever found, Bascom and Narcisse went down as
usnal. Bascom had been under longer, and was just about
to rise when the hook under the lifted end of the cannon
was repelled by something hard. He dug down, and his
hand felt what was unmistakably the corner of a chest.
Narcisse caught sight of the motion and put his hand in
too, then he sprang up, pushing Baseom down with his foot
while he rose.
"I foun' a chest!" he gasped, coming up. "I fouu' the
treasure !"
"Wheah? How big?" cried Lazare\ and they crowded
round the boy. But some one noticed the blank water and
raised another cry,
"Where's Bascom?"
Captain Tony drew oue deep breath, thrust his hands
above his head, and sprang into the water. Narcisse stood
still a moment, his eyes big with horror, then he followed
overboard.
It seemed a breathless age before the Captain reappeared
and lifted Bascom's limp head above water. A dozen hands
pulled them on deck and fell to work on Bascom.
"He'll come out," prayed the Captain through his teeth ;
"he got to come out. My boy — Bascom —
Narcisse climbed up the schooner's side, but no one no-
ticed him. and he hung in torture outside the group sur-
rounding Bascom.
"He'd run his arm under de end of de cannon and de
grapplin'-hook," Captain Tony was saying, "an' dey had
settle back onto him, an' he had uot the strength lef to
500
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
pull out. I doau' unilerstau' how-
it could have settle on him like
dat : but he will eoine out. He
got to come out."
Narcisse, hearing all this,
sneaked away into the cabiu.
He had had no wish to hurt Bas-
com even when he pushed him
down ; it was just the temptation
to be ahead tor once.
At last there was a step down
the ladder. Captain Tony canio
and sank onto the bench oppo-
site. He did not see Narcisse;
he was talking to himself, and his
voice trembled. "My little pa'd-
nah," he said ; " he was so wil'
'boud dat treasure — an' proud
'boud dem ole cannon. T'ink of
dat little chap weatheriu' de
big sto'm wid me. He was the
stuff—
Narcisse reached over and
clutched timidly at the Captain's
leg. " Ain't dere — no chance — •
lef ' t" be begged.
Tony started, and gazed at the
boy and tried to speak, but his
voice broke into a sob. He reach-
ed over and patted Narcisse. " He
— he comiu' out," he said. "He
be all right. I couldu' get long
widout him."
Narcisse shrank back again, the
better part of him ashamed to re-
ceive Tony's kindness. A mo-
ment later he crept past and went
on deck. A few of the men still
hovered around Bascoin, who lay
on the deck, very white, very sick,
very washed -looking, but open-
eyed and breathing. Most of
them, however, were busy again
at the windlass, and were just
hauling np the last gun. It had
to be lifted before the treasure
could be gotten out, but no time
was given to it after it was landed
on the deck. Only Bascom, who,
in spite of his weakness, wanted to
be where he could watch the rais-
ing of the treasure, was brought and pillowed on it, an
old tarpaulin being folded over to keep him from feeling
the shells.
The chest had been so deeply bedded under the gun that it
was the hardest of all to raise ; but at last it began to come,
and Bascom struggled up from his gun to watch it swing,
dripping, to the deck. It was wooden, oblong in shape, and
very heavy ; the edges were worn oft" and crumbling.
"If it liadn' been covered so deep it wouldn' have keep
so well as it has," said Captain Lazare', waving the other
men back, but trying not to look eager or excited.
Captain Tony bent over it with him. " I doan' see the
fastenin'," he said. '' I guess we cut into him. It will be
ver' easy at dis end." And he began chipping where the
wood was most decayed.
It was the only thing to do, and yet, as the men stood
with gaping mouths waiting for the lid to yield, Baseom
felt a new ache at his heart to see the uncouth relic dam-
aged. A great chunk of it gave way, and every one bent
forward. Still there was nothing to be seen but wood.
Lazare caught the axe from Tony's hand and gave the thing
a mighty blow that sent a dull rent through it. He pried it
apart with the blade and laid it open. He had split in
two a block of solid wood.
" It — it was one of the old gun-carriages!" cried Bascom,
and sank back upon his austere pillow.
Captain Tony lifted his cap a little, and then pulled it
down over his eyes again. Stooping, he measured the two
THE CAPTAIN REAPPEARED AND LIFTED BASCOM'S HEAD ABOVE WATER.
sections of wood. Then, turning to Lazare', he asked, "Is it
a fair di vide .'"
I.a/ar6 covered his feelings with a comical shrug, but
Narcisse and both the crews looked whipped with disap-
pointment, and eyed the innocent old block resentful-
ly. Buscom motioned to have it brought alongside his
gun.
"I don't see," he said, afterward, " what better an old
party like that could have done, coinin' from so far, than to
bring his comforts with him instead of presents for folks
he didn't know."
Bascom never told what Narcisse had done to him under
water, and the gun that had had a share in it was used to
keeping its own counsel. It and its comrades were left in
his care, and when he saw that they would be awkward
ballast on the H</steri/, they were piled together on Tony's
beach to wait a purchaser. The faith which Bascom had
had in them staid with him, although public interest in
them died out, and they were forgotten again. But Bas-
com was always working with them, and polishing them,
and talking to them when he had the time.
" It's queer how you all staid there so quiet, and waited
hundreds an' hundreds an' hundreds of years — just for me,"
he said to them. " I wisht I could only lind out where you
come from, and what you're calculatin' for me to do. You
didn't come for nothin', I make sure of that.'7
But the guns with all their sleeping possibilities of voice
lay still.
501
HARPER'S ROUNt) TABLE
MISS APPOLINA'S CHOICE.
BY AGNES LITTLETON.
part £•£*
HE next morning; .it ten o'clock two
I'righiened an<l trembling maiden*
presented themselves at the door
of Miss Hi -iggs's house on Madison
Avenue. It was all out of order,
to he sure, lor them to he calling
at such an hour, for it was the
time appointed for their lessons,
and yesterday had been a holiday
also on account of the fair ; but
Miss Briggs's word was to a, cer-
tain extent law in the family, and governesses and masters
were asked to defer their coining.
The mothers of Millieeiit and Peggy bad little idea as to
why their cousin wished to see them, for neither girl dared
to confess her atrocious deed. In fact, Millieeiit herself
did not. know of Peggy's poem. Peggy was putting off the
evil moment as long as possible, when she should be forced
to give an account of what she had done.
She was really very much ashamed of herself. She had
lain awake, half the night thinking of what a rude, un-
ladylike, childish trick she had been guilty.
'• From first to last it has been silly," she groaned. "It
was perfectly hateful of me to make Milly send her poetry
and turn her into a laughing-stock, even though no one
knows it was she who wrote them, and it was ridiculous for
nie to put that one in about Cousin Appolina. And it isn't
•very funny, either. I might have made a better one while
I was about it. Oh dear! oh dear! I wish I hadn't been
born a joker ! I'll never get to England now, not for years
and years, for papa declares he won't take me himself until
I have finished school. And when lie hears about this, for,
of course, Cousin Appolina will tell the whole family, what
will he say ! Oh, oh ! Unfortunate wretch that I am !"
Thus Peggy. Millieeiit, in the mean time, across the
street, Teas in a no less unhappy frame of mind.
"What can it be ?" said she to herself. " Cousin Appo-
lina could not have found out then about the slippers, fen-
she seemed to be in a very pleasant mood when she came
to the poetry-table. What in the world made her buy all
the^ioems ? She must have come upou one that she liked,
or one that she didn't like, that made her buy them all.
Probably that she didn't like, but which one, I wonder?"
But as I havesaid, they rang Miss Briggs's door-bell, punc-
tual to the moment. James, the melancholy footman, seem-
ed even more solemn than usual as he ushered them up the
stairs to the door of Miss Briggs's library.
"Miss Kcid and Miss Margaret Kcid," he announced, in
a sepulchral voice, and withdrew, leaving them to their
fate.
Miss Briggs sat at her desk writing. She gave the girls
a cold good-morning, and motioned them to be seated. She
continued to write, and hercjnill pen travelled briskly a< -i ">>
the page, scratching loudly. Milliceut's heart sank. The
slippers were placed in reproachful prominence upou the
top of the desk. The poems were not to he seen.
After some minutes' silence, broken only by a deep-drawn
sigh from Milly, a. warning cough from Peggy, and the
scratching of the quill. Miss Briggs turned in her chair and
faced them. She removed the spectacles which she had
worn when writing, and raised her lorgnette. The girls
thought that, no stern judge in the days of witchcraft could
have appeared more formidable. She scrutinized them
piercingly, coldly, judicially. Then she spoke.
" I have asked you to come to me, young ladies, that some
small matters may be cleared up. Who wrote that poetry?"
It \\ as not the slippers entirely, then. It was " To a Pearl
in an Oyster-shell"; and Peggy would goto England. Mil-
licent's eyes were on the ground, the color came and went
in her checks, her head drooped.
" I did," she faltered.
".Just as I thought. No one but yon, you silly scrap of
sentiment, would be guilty of writing such trash. It is now
consigned to its proper destination ;" and she pointed to a
large scrap-basket which the girls had not before noticed,
and which was tilled to overflowing with the ill-fated book-
lets. "I have looked through them all, and find nothing
but harmless trash, with one exception. As you may sup-
pose, it is this one;" and from under some papers on her
desk she drew another.
" I suppose it is the sounet to ' A Pearl in an Oyster-shell,' "
gasped Milliceut. "I am sorry, Cousin Appolina, that it
went ill. I —
"Pearl in an oyster-shell? Nonsense! What do I care
about pearls in oyster -shells? Do not try any of those,
evasions with me; they are of no use. I am shocked, pain-
ed, astonished that one of my own kith and kin, the daugh-
ter of my cousin Van Aspiuwall Reid, should have been
guilty of such — such — well, words fail me ! — such gross im-
pertinence!"
Millicent forgot her misery, and stared at Miss Briggs in
astonishment. "I don't know what you mean, Cousin Ap-
polina. unless it is the slippers."
" Slippers ! Yes, you may well allude to the slippers, but
the next time you semi my gifts to be sold pray be more
careful. I drew one of them on my foot this morning and
felt the crunch of paper in the toe. I examined the paper,
and found it to be this."
Miss Appolina rose and held a small white card toward
Millicent. This is what was written upon it:
"For Millicent, with love and good wishes for a Merry
Christmas and Happy New Year, from her cousiu, Appolina
Briggs."
'' I notice that, the check which I sent with the slippers
was carefnlbf removed. That did not go to the fair," added
Miss Briggs, grimly, as she again seated herself.
Millicent burst into tears. All this time Peggy's mind
was busy. A terrible temptation stared her in the face.
No one seemed to suspect her of having written the lines
about her cousin ; if she did not confess it, who would
know it?
After all, it would do no further harm to Milliceut's pros-
pects if Cousiu Appolina continued to think that she wrote
them, for she would not be chosen to go to England now
under any circumstances on account of the slippers.
Should Peggy remain quiet and let it pass? Not a crea-
ture but herself knew what she had done, aud it would be
easy enough to continue to hide it.
"Cousin Appolina," said Millicent, finding her voice at
last, " I am so sorry! You see, I hadn't worn the slippers,
for the ones you gave me before are still as good as new,
and I had nothing to send to the fair, for I don't do any
fancy-work, and 1 thought — perhaps — you wouldn't mind.
1 didn't notice the paper."
"Evidently not; but what if the shoes had fallen into
other hands than mine ? What if — But all this amounts to
nothing compared with your positive outrageousness in
writing those lines about me and sending them to be sold."
"Cousin Appoliua, what do you mean?" cried Millicent.
"I didn't mean you."
" Mean me .'" repeated Miss Briggs, iu wrath. " To whom,
then, were you referring? Is there mint/it r Miss Appo-
lina B. ?"
"I can't imagine what you are talking about, honestly,
Cousiu Appolina, but I really did not mean that you were
the pearl in the oyster-shell. I wrote it about some cue
else."
"Pearl in the oyster -shell! Do not dare to mention
that pearl or that oyster-shell again. I am tired of hearing
of them both. And do not pretend that you do not under-
stand me, Millicent. You are not so stupid as all that,
though I must say yon were extraordinarily dull of com-
prehension when yon sent those verses to the fair, and it
was astonishingly like you to do it, too. No, this is what I
am referring to. Now, what have you to say for your-
self?"
she thrust the unlucky booklet at her cousin, aud began
to walk the floor.
Millicent read the verses:
502
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"Who is a dame of high degree?
Who's always scolded little me?
Who is a sight strange for to see?
Miss Appolina B.
"Who cannot with her friends agree?
Who loves to feed on cakes and tea ?
Who prides herself on her pedigree?
Miss Appolina B.
"*Who'll soon set sail across the sea?
Who will not take her" cousins three?
Who K an ancient, awful sin-?
Miss Appolina B.
" Who else would have written that about the ' cousius
three »' thundered Miss Briggs, as she walked. " Ami, be-
sides, you have already confessed that you are the author
of the rhymes. What more is needed f As for my pedi-
gree is there a better one in all New York ? I may be an-
cient and I may be awful, but at least I am aristocratic.
Cakes and tea forsooth ! You have had the last cakes and
tea you will ever have in my house. Margaret "—suddenly
stopping in front of Peggy-- Margaret, I have decided that
you shall be the one to go abroad with me. I have made up
my mind to that, now that MiMi.-cnt has confessed that she
wrote the poetry. Yesterday I was in doubt as to which
one of yon had written it, so I requested you both to come
to me but in the mean time I have read the other poems,
and even before Millicent acknowledged it, I knew that
they had emanated from no pen but hers! X- one els.
could have, been capable of such trash. We will sail, M
caret, on the 1st of June."
" Still, Peggy held her peace. She would wait and see
what Millicent said. Millicent, too, was silent, At first
her astonishment upon leading the verses deprived her
of the power of speech. Who in the world could have
written them, and how did they get among her poems at the
fair? She felt stupefied; but slowly a glimmering ..
truth dawned upon her.
She knew that the author of the lines was either her si
ter or her cousin.
It did not seen, like Joan to do it, and yet it was not
possible that it could have been Peggy or she would boldly
confess it now. It must be Joanna. Whichever it was,
Millicent would not speak. The innocent had auffered tor
the "tiilty before this. There was no chance whatever ot
her being chosen for England on account of the slippers
therefore she would not spoil the prospects
others. She could suffer for two offences as easily as t
°"she rose, placed the verses upon Miss Briggs's desk, and
stood before her relative.
" I am very sorr\ ," she said ; " I did not know those N erses
were there. I— I— apologize with all my heart. May I go
now ?"
"Yes, you may go, and do not come to the 1
until you at least appear to be more ashamed of your con-
duct ' You are absolutely unrepentant, 1 see. Go!
garet, my dear, I should be glad to have you staj and
over our trip."
Millicent left the house feeling as if she were walk
a dream. What could it all mean ? Of course it was Joan.
What a strange thing for the child to do ! And how clev-
erly she had hidden it!
When she was told of the transaction at the fair, oi now
Cousin Appolina had bought all the poems, she had oul;
lauo-hed and thought it a good joke, and was gla.l that
Millicent's poetry was appreciated. And she went off
school that 'morning as light-heartedly as possible,
last words had been :
"I hope yon will get through all right with Consu
polina.Milly darling, and I /(«/><• she hasn't found out about
the slippers, and that you will be the one to g
""And yet it must have been Joan, for Peggy would cer-
tainly have confessed had it been she.
Millicent walked slowly homeward. The French teacher
was awaiting her, and her singing master was to come
rectly afterward, but her lessons did not receive very close
attention that day.
In the mean time Peggy was left with her cousin.
•• [ am astonished at Millirent," said Miss Briggs, as the
door closed. " I always suspected that she was silly, but I
never supposed she could be impertine,ut. I shall not men-
tion it in the family, Margaret, and I shall be obliged to
yon if you will not either. I would not for the world have
either her father or yours know what — what she has said
about me."
Still, Peggy was strangely silent. She was glad that it
was not to be told. She had less compunction about not
confessing if the family were not to know it. Now they
would merely think it a whim of Cousin Appolina's that
she was the one chosen for the voyage.
She did not enter with .great heartiness into the plans
for the summer, and Miss Briggs soon dismissed her.
" But come in again at rive o'clock and have some ' cakes
and tea,' " she said, with great meaning. " My poor cakes
and lea! Oil, it was outrageous ! I shall never pardon
Millicent."
So Peggy went home, or rather to her uncle's house, lor
the o-irls'shared the school-room there. After lessons were
over" and they were left alone together, Peggy broke the
silence.
"Did you write those lines to Cousin Appolina, M
••No; of course, not, Peggy. It must have been
.loan."
"Do you really think so ?"
-Yes'; and I feel dreadfully about it. Not so much be-
cause I will lose the trip, but because she has been so de-
ceitful. I can't understand it. To think, too, of your being
the one' to go, after all."
"But why didn't you tell Cousin Appolma that you
didn't write it?"
"It wasn't worth while. I knew it must have been
either you or Joan, and I thought if you did it you would
sav so. If Joan did it-well, Peggy, I didn't want to.
feel dreadfully about Joan's having done it. I shall talk
to the child, and— But I can't bear to think she did it, and
I would rather have Cousin Appolina think it was I than
little Joan."
"You are very generous," said Peggy.
"No, I am not. I shouldn't be the one to g.., anyhow.
Of course the whole thing is terribly dishonorable, but .
must save Joan."
Peggy said nothing for a long time, ^iheu she asked,
"What time does Joan get home to-day .'"
•• Not until late, for she is going to lunch with one o
<rirls. and then to the Dog Show with her."
' •• Well I must go home. I'll see yon again before the
dav is o'ver." And Peggy departed to her own house.
" What a "'cod girl Millicent is," she thought.
HiK'hed at her and made endless fun of her for her pobtry-
making, I have thought she was stupid over her lessons,
and not half as bright or as much to be admired as myself,
•uid here she is ten times more generous, ten times more
honorable, ten times better than I am in every way.
a wretch, a conceited, deceitful, mean, stuck-up, and every -
tbiu" else that is horrible wretch. But 1 don t want to
give up and tell Cousin Appolina that I did r
' -U twenty minutes of five that afternoon Peggy again
appeared in MiUicent's room. An odor of smoke fill. .1 i
air, and Milly seemed to be wrestling with the tongs
some burning paper at the fireplace.
"What are you doing?" asked Peggy, much surprised.
"Building a tire this warm day ?"
"I-I-lam burning my-my poetry," replied Millioe t,
stm-Hug with her tears as well as with the tongs,
am ne^ver going to write another line. Ever, one laughed
so that I don't believe, there is much real ,,o,r.v ."
I am never, never going to write again. ^ hat, ,
smell that m-moroeeo c-cover makes '
Peggy would have laughed had she been in a happier
fra.nctf mind. As it was. she said, solemnly: " Open he,
window and leave the room to air oft. Mill,
von to come out with me. I am going to Cousin Appo-
iina's.''
503
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
MISS APPOLINA'S CHOICE.
" But I can't go there, Peggy. You know she told me
not to come again."
"You must, Milly. You really must. I will be respon-
sible for it. I can't go alone. You miixt go with inc."
Finally Milliceut put on her hat, and for the second time
that day the two set forth lor their cousin's house.
Miss Briggs was in lier drawing-room. The tea tray had
just been placed before her, the celebrated cakes reposed
in the old silver cuke basket conveniently at hand, the
man had left the room, when again the Misses Eeid were
announced.
Miss Briggs looked up and raised her lorgnette.
"You have made a mistake," she said. "I am not at
home to Millicent."
" Yes, you are, Cousin Appolina!" cried Peggy, rushing
forward and causing a bronze Hermes to totter as she
brushed past it — " yes, you are more at home to Milly than
you are to me. For she didn't write them, Cousin Appo-
lina. She didn't write the lines about you. I have brought
her with me to hear me confess. She is as innocent as —
as that piece of statuary. I wrote the verses, /did !"
For a moment there was an alarming silence, but Peggy,
having once begun her confession, courageously continued.
"I did it to frighten Milly. I put it in the box, but
'way underneath, for her to see when the poems came home.
I thought it would be such fun to watch her when she
read it, and found it had been to the fair with the others.
Of course it was just my luck to have you find it, but it
was a silly, foolish thing to do, just as it was perfectly
horrid of me to make Milly send her own verses to the fair.
That was my fault, too. I urged her to do it just to get
some fun out of it, and 1 didn't get a bit.
"Then this morning,
when you thought Milly
had written them all, and
she didn't say anything, I
thought I would let it pass,
for I wanted dreadfully to
go to England, and I knew
that her chances were over
on account of the slippers.
Well, I was rirnf about it for
an hour or so, and then I
found how generous Milly
was to say nothing, and she
thought Joan had done it,
and was going to scold her,
and — Oh, well, Idon't think
it pays to deceive ! I never
was so unhappy in my life
as I have been to-day. Mil-
ly, yon dear old soul, say you
forgive me!"
During this long speech
Millicent had time to think
the matter over. Her chief
feeling was one of thankful-
ness that it was not Joanna
who had done this thing.
And Millicent had a sweet
nature and never harbored
anger very long.
Of course it was a dread-
ful thing for Peggy to have
done, but her cousin knew
how dearly she loved a joke,
and though it had been
wrong for her to deceive
Miss Briggs and herself this
morning, she had not kept
it up long, and it was easy
to see that she was sorry
enough for it now.
So when Peggy asked her
1 to forgive her, Milliceut's
answer was a warm kiss.
"And have I nothing to.
forgi ve ?"
It was Miss Briggs who put the question.
" Yes, of course you have, Cousin Appolina! I am terri-
bly sorry that I ever did such a thing. It was rude, im-
pertinent, everything that was bad. I hope you will for-
give me. Of course it is all true, but I needn't have said
it."
" True 1"
" \Yhy, yes. You know you are a dame of high degree,
and yon have always scolded me, ami in your winter bon-
net and big fur cape you were — er — well, a sight rather
strange for to see. And it is perfectly true you are soon
going to set sail across the sea and you won't take us all
t In ee. and sometimes, you know, Cousin Appolina. you don't
agree very well, especially with me. And yon do love cakes
and tea, but so do I, so that isn't anything. And you say
yourself you pride yourself on your pedigree."
"And no one has a better right. But there is one line
that you have left out. You called me an ancient, airfiil
sl,r r'
Peggy paused.
"I know," she said, slowly, "(hat was dreadful, but — but
ii is partly true. I suppose you can't truthfully call your-
self very young, Cousin Appoliua, and sometimes you can
be very awful."
Another pause.
" You may both go home," said Miss Briggs.
And they went.
On the 1st of June Miss Appolina Briggs sailed for
England, accompanied by her maid and by her young cous-
in, Joanna Reid. And Millicent and Peggy stood on the
wharf and waved tlfern a sad farewell.
THE END.
504
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
BY KIRK M U X ROE.
CHAPTER XXI.
A YCKON MIXING CAMP.
THE supper provided by tlie hospitable miners was a
good one, and heartily did our travellers enjoy it; but
while they are appeasing the extraordinary appetites that
they acquired somewhere in the AlasUiin wilderness, let us
take a look at this most northern of American mining
camps.
To begin with, although it is at the junction of Forty
Mile Creek and the Yukon Eiver.it is not in Alaska, but
about twenty miles east of the boundary in Northwest
Territory, which is one of the sub-divisions of Canada. The
most recent name of this camp is " Mitchell," but all old
Yukon miners know it as Camp Forty Mile. At the time
of Phil Ryder's visit it contained nearly two hundred log
cabins, two stores, including the one that he established in
the name of his friend, Gerald Hainer, two saloons, both of
which were closed for the season, and a small cigar factory.
Although the winter population was only about three hun-
dred, in summer-time it is much larger, as many of the min-
ers come out in the fall and return before the loth of June,
at which dale, according to Yukon mining law, every man
owning a claim rnnst be on the ground or it may be
"jumped."
Forty Mile is what is known as a placer camp, which
means that its gold is found in minute particles or "dust"
in soft earth, from which it can be washed in sluices or
rockers. Into one of these a stream of water is turned that
sweeps away all the dirt and gravel, allowing the heavier
gold to sink to the bottom, where it is caught and held by
cross-bars or " riffles."
Although gold
has been discover-
ed at many points
along the Yukon
and its branches,
the deposit at For-
ty Mile is the rich-
est yet worked,
and has paid as
high as $300 to a
man for a single
day's labor; $12,000
worth of gold was
cleared by one
miner in a three
months' season, and
a $500 nugget has
been found; but
most of the miners
are content if they
can make "ounce1
wages," or sixteen
dollars per day,
while the average
for the camp is not
over $6 per day
during the short
season of that arc-
tic region.
Sluices can only
be worked during
three or four
months of sum-
mer-time; then
come the terrible
eight or nine
months of winter
when the mercury
thinks nothing of
dropping to 60° or
70° below zero, and
the whole world
seems made of ice.
Strange as it may appear, the summer weather of this
region is very hot, 85° in the shade, and 112" in the
sun being frequently reached by the mercury. Dur-
ing the summer months, too. the entire Yukon Valley is
as terribly infested with mosquitoes as is any inangro\i>
swamp of the tropics. Thus the hardy miner who pene-
trates it in his search for gold is made to suffer from one
cause or another during every month of the year.
In spite of the summer heat the ground never thaws to
a depth of more than live or six feet, below which it is sol-
idly frozen beyond any point yet reached by digging. Un-
der the dense covering of muss, six to eighteen inches thick,
by which the greater part of Alaska is overspread, it does
not thaw more than a few inches. Consequently the most,
important item of a Yukon miner's winter work is the strip-
ping of this moss from his claim in order that next sum-
mer's sun may have a chance to thaw it to working depth.
There were no women nor children at Forty Mile, and
there were few amusements, hut there was plenty of hard
work in both summer when the sun hardly sets at all, and
in the winter when he barely shows his face above the
southern horizon. Besides the laborious task of moss-strip-
ping, the miner must saw out by hand all lumber for sluices
and rockers. He must build his own cabin and fashion its
rude furniture, besides doing all of his own house-work
and cooking. He also expects to do a certain amount of
hunting and trapping during the winter months, so that
his time, unless he be very la/.y, is fully occupied. But lazy
men are not apt to reach Forty Mile, for the journey from
Jnnean.m southern Alaska, which is the largest city in the
Territory, as well as the nearest outfitting point for the
diggings, is so filled with peril aud the roughest kind of
' WHY, MATEY/, DON'T YOU REMEMBER THE OLD BRIG
505
• BETSY r '
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
hard work as to deter any but men of the most determined
euergy.
At, Juueau, Yukon travellers provide themselves with an
outfit of snow-shoes, sledges, tents, fur clothing, provisions,
ami whatever else seems to them necessary. Starting
in the early spring they proceed by boat to the Chilkat
emintry, seventy miles distant, and to the head of Chilkoot.
Inlrt. From there they set forth on a terrible mountain
climb over snow many feet in depth, where they are in con-
stant danger from avalanches, and cross the coast range by
a pass that rises 15000 Icet abnve timber line. On the op-
posite side they strike the head- waters of the Yukon, which
they follow through a series of six lakes, sledging over their
still ice-bound waters, and rafting down their connecting
links, ill which are seething rapids, dark gorges, and roaring
canons, around which all goods must be carried on men's
backs. After some 200 miles of these difficulties have been
passed, trees must be felled, lumber sawed, cut, and boats
constructed for the remaining 500 miles of the weary jour-
ney.
As it would not pay to transport freight by this route, all
provisions and other supplies for the diggings are shipped
from San Francisco by sea to St. Michaels, where they are
tranferred to small river steamers like the Cliini/i, and so
after being many months on the way, finally reach their
destination. By this time their value has become so en-
hanced or " enchanted," as the miners say, that Phil Ryder
found flour selling for $30 per barrel, bacon at 35 cents per
pound, beans at 25 cents per pound, canned fruit at 60 cents
per pound, coarse flannel shirts at $8 each, rubber boots at
.$18 per pair, and all other goods at proportionate rates.
Kvi-n sledge dogs such as he had purchased at Auvik for
-."> or $6 each were here valued at $25 apiece.
In view of these facts it is no wonder that the news of
another steamer on the river bringing a saw-mill to sup-
ply them with lumber, machinery with which to work the
fiii/i-ii lint gold-laden earth of their claims, and a large
stock of goods to be sold at about one-half the prevailing
prices, created a very pleasant excitement among the
miners of that wide-awake camp.
On the day following his arrival, and after a careful sur-
vey of the situation, Phil rented the largest building in
the place, paying one month's rent in advance, and giving
its owner an order on Gerald Hamer for the balance until
the time of the Chlmo's arrival. This building had been
used as a saloon, aud was conveniently located close by
the steamboat lauding facing the river. Into it the sledge
party moved all their belongings, including the seventeen
wolf-skins, which now formed rugs for their floor as well
as coverings for several split-log benches. Serge and the
two Indians at once started up the river with the. sledges
for a supply of firewood, which was a precious article in
Forty Mile tit- that time, leaving Phil and Jalap Coombs to
clean the new quarters and render them habitable; while
the latter, with a sailor's neat deftness, attended to this
work, Phil busied himself with a pot of black paint and a
long breadth of cotton cloth. At this he labored with such
diligence that in an hour's time a huge sign appeared
above the entrance to the building and stretched across
its entire front. On it, in letters so large that they could
be plainly read from the river, was painted the legend,
"Yukon Trading Company, Gerald Hamer, Agent."
This promise of increased business facilities was greeted
by a round of hearty cheers from a group of miners who
had assembled to witness the raising of the new sign, and
wheu Jalap Coombs finished tacking up his end one of
these stepped up to him with a keen scrutiny. Finally
In- said, " Stranger, may I be so bold as to ask who was the
best friend you ever had ?"
"Sai'tain you may," replied the sailorman, "seeing as I'm
allers proud to mention the name of old Kite Roberson,
aud likewise claim him for a friend."
"I thought so!" cried the delighted miner, thrusting out
a great hairy paw. "I thought I couldn't be mistook in
that figger-head, and I knowed if you was the same old
Jalap I took ye to be that Kite Roberson wouldn't be fur
off. Why, matey, dou't you remember the old brig Betty .'
Have you clean forgot Skiff Betteus .'"
" Him that went into the hold aud found the fire aud
put it out. and was drug up so nigh dead from smoke that
he didn't breathe nateral agiu fur a week? Not much I
hain't forgot him, and I'm nigh about as glad to see him as
if he were old Kite hisself !" exclaimed Jalap Coombs, in
joyous tones. Then he introduced Mr. Skit}' Betten, ex-
sailor aud now Yukon miner, to Phil, aud pulled him into
the house, and there was uo more work to be g6t out of
Jalap Coombs that day.
Phil had also been recognized. That is, Mr. Platt Uiley
had asked him if lie were the son of his father, aud wheu
Phil admitted the relationship, told him that he had a fa-
ther to be proud of every minute of bis life. Didn't he
know ? for hadn't he, Platt Kiley, worked side by side with
Mr. John Ryder prospecting in South Africa, where every
ounce of grit that a white man had in him was bound to
show itself? "To be certain he had, aud now he was
proud to shake the hand of John Ryder's son, aud if there
was anything Jolm Ryder's son wanted iu that camp why
he, Platt Riley, was the man to get it for him."
So our sledge travellers found that even in that remote
mining camp, buried from the world beneath the snows of
au arctic winter, they were among friends. This, coupled
with all that they had undergone in reaching it, made it
seem to them a very pleasaut aud comfortable place in
which to rest awhile.
Aud it was necessary that they should stay there for a
time. They must cultivate friendly business relations
with the miners on Gerald Hauler's account, and find out
what class of goods were most in demand: for never until
now had Phil realized the responsibility with which he had
"been entrusted. He must prepare a full report to send back
by Kurilla and Chitsah, who could not be tempted to ven-
ture any further away from their homes. The dogs must
be well rested before they would be fitted for the second
and most difficult half of the long journey. Above all,
Phil felt that, as representative of the Yukon Trading Com-
pany, he must be on hand to meet the agents of its old-
established rival, and defend his far-away friend from the
false reports- they were certain to spread concerning him.
He wondered why Goldollar aud Strengel did not ap-
pear, aud dreaded to meet them; but at the same time
longed to have the disagreeable encounter over with as
quickly as possible. So many times each day did he gaze
long and fixedly across the broad white plain of the Yukon.
At length, 011 the eighth day after their arrival at Forty
Mile, his eye was caught by some moving black dots that
he felt certain must be the expected sledges.
CHAPTER XXI I.
THE NEW ARRIVAL AT FORTY MILE.
' THE man known as Strengel was probably as great a
rascal as could be found in all Alaska. His sole object in
shipping aboard the steamer _y«/'4 at San Francisco had
been to make his way, by fair means or foul, to the Yukon
gold fields, of which he had gaiued extravagant ideas. On
the night before the Xorsk left St. Michaels he stole from
the chests of several of his shipmates such small sums of
money as they contained, slipped into a canoe, aud deserted
the ship. He remained iu hiding nutii she sailed, aud then,
claiming to have been discharged at his own request, offered
his services to Gerald Hamer iu exchange for a passage to
Forty Mile. This proposition being accepted, and Strengel
regularly shipped as one of the I'liimo'a crew, he made a
secret proposal to the old company through one of its
clerks, who happened to be Simon Goldollar, to so delay and
cripple Gerald Hauler's expedition, that he should be forced
to abandon it. In attempting to carry out this programme
he was foiled by Phil Ryder's quick wit aud prompt ac-
tion.
Making his way back to St. Michaels, after Phil set him
ashore at the Pastolik wood-yard, Strengel fell in with
Jalap Coombs, aud, in company with GoldollaT, so managed
the money affairs of that unsuspecting sailor that he was
unwittingly made to defray all their expenses to Forty
Mile, though he only expected to accompany them a short
distance up the river. Strengel's sole object was still to
506
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
reach the gold fields ; while Goldollar was intent on win-
ning a reputation for himself by forestalling Gerald Hamer
at Fo^ty Mile, and at the same time inflicting what injury
he could on Phil Ryder. From the outset they agreed to
rid themselves of Jalap Coombs at some point so far up the
river that he must necessarily remain where they left him
for the rest of the winter. They learned at Nulato that
the (.'hi mo was frozen in at Anvik,but took care that this
information should not reach Jalap Coombs, whom they
soon afterwards so cruelly deserted.
As they travelled beyond tbe point where they left him,
the well-mated pair hail such frequent and bitter quarrels,
that when Simon Goldollar fell seriously ill, Streugel did
not hesitate to rob him of what money he carried aud de-
sert him at a native village near the abandoned trading-
post of Fort Yukon. Before doing this he discharged the
Indians who had come with them from Nulato, and sent
them back, telling them that he should remain with his
sick friend until he recovered or died. As soon as they
were gone he engaged other natives, and set out for the
diggings that had for so long been the goal of his desires.
He planned to enter Forty Mile under a new name, and
as a traveller from one of the interior Hudson Bay trading-
posts, who was ignorant of the lower Yukon, its people, aud
its happenings. He was confident that Jalap Coombs
would never appear to contradict him, and almost equally
certain that Simon Goldollar would never reach Forty
Mile. If by a miracle he should recover from his illness
he was helpless to continue his journey before the boats
came up in the summer, by which time the man who had
robbed and deserted him would be lost to sight amid the
season's rush of prospectors. In the mean time he had
plenty of money to live on nntil he should meet with an
opportunity for making a strike of some kind.
Thus it was that on a pleasant day of late January Mr.
Strengel approached the mining camp of Forty Mile, riding
comfortably in Jalap Coombs's own sledge, with a light
heart, and no intimation of aught but an agreeable re-
ception by its citizens. But in all his carefully worked out
plans he had made several miscalculations.
It had never occurred to him that there was any other
route than the one he had followed by which this point
might be reached from the lower river. Nor did he believe
it possible that any word of Gerald Hauler's expedition
could have come up the river unknown to him. Finally,
his gravest mistake lay in supposing the population of this
camp to be of the same lawless class as is to be found in
most Western mining camps, and believing that here he
should meet only with as great rascals as himself. In this
be displayed great ignorance of Forty Mile, which was
wholly in the hands of honorable old-time miners, who had
framed a simple set of laws for the regulation of their
isolated little community that they were determined should
be respected. They had chosen one of their own number
as Judge, and from his decisions they allowed no appeal.
They had also elected a Marshal, whom they loyally as-
sisted in the discharge of his duties. Several lawless char-
acters had already been driven from the camp, aud many
others warned not to venture within its limits.
As Forty Mile had received warning of the expected
coming of Goldollar and Strengel, and had learned many
interesting things concerning the previous history of these
gentlemen, their arrival was eagerly anticipated. Thus,
upon Phil Ryder's announcement that sledges were coming
up the river, an expectant throng was quickly gathered at
the lauding.
Mr. Streugel fired several shots from his rifle as lie drew
near, and was surprised that his salute was not answered
in kind. He was, of course, gratified to observe the sensa-
tion that his approach was creating, and undertook to
arouse some enthusiasm among the silent spectators by
yelling: "Hurrah for Forty Mile! Hurrah for the dig-
gings ! Hurrah for our side !" Then, as his sledge reached
the bank, and he sprang out, he cried, in tones meant to
convey hearty good-fellowship:
"How are you, boys? You bet I'm mighty glad to -<•.•
white men again after camping with a lot of low-lived
Injuns for more than two mouths. You see, I've just come
down from Pierre's House in t'he Porcupine. My name's
Bradwick, aud —
Here the speaker's fluent words seemed suddenly to fail
him, his face turned pale, and his eyes were fixed in a be-
wildered stare. He had caught sight of the Yukon Trad-
ing Company's sign.
•• I la, ha!" he laughed, recovering himself with an ett'ort.
"Seeing the name of an old friend who's long since dead
kinder give me a turn. Hut, as I was saying — "
'• Yes, you were just about to tell us what had become of
Goldollar," interrupted Mr. Platt Riley, who had received
word from Phil that the new-comer was Strengel.
"Goldollar!" stammered the stranger, at the same time
starting as though he had been shot. "Goldollar!" he re-
peated, reflectively; "I don't know the name; never heard it
before in my life. I think I mentioned that I'd just come-
do wu from Pierre's House on the Porcupine, aud hadn't
seen a white man since leaving there. There wasn't no
one of that name at Pierre's House when I left. What do
you mean? Who is Goldollar, anyhow?"
" He's a feller that we heard was coming up from below
with a dog train," replied Mr. Riley, deliberately, at the
same time gazing full in Strengel's face. "And we didn't
know but what you and him might have met up aud con-
cluded to travel together."
"How could you hear of him?" inquired the new-comer.
" I didn't know there was any way for news to reach Forty
Mile in the winter."
"Oh, we might have heard by mail, or telegraph, or seen
it in the daily papers, or a dozen other ways. Anyhow, \ve
did hear it, and that another feller was along with him.
So of course when we saw you coming up the river —
"Yon didn't hear that the other fellow's name was Brad-
wick, did yon ?" interrupted the stranger.
" No, that wasn't the name. It wasn't so good a name
as that."
"Well, then, you didn't hear that I was coming with
him ; for Bradwick is my name, aud I don't know nothing
about any Goldollars, though I hope to find out something
about them right here in these diggings, "replied Mr. Stren-
gel, boldly, and with attempted jocularity. "Now, seeing
that I'm tired, and cold, aud hungry," he added, '• supposing
we adjourn to some place that's warmer than out here in
the snow, aud better suited for making acquaintances."
"All right, "replied Mr. Riley. "We don't know much
about Goldollars ourselves, but we'll try and teach yon all
we do know, aud at the same time put you in the way of
meeting acquaintances. As you say. though, this is a cold
place for talking, so I suppose yon might as well come up
to my select family boarding-house for the night, seeing as
it ain't overcrowded just at present. Then in the morning
we'll look round for a place that '11 suit yon better."
So the new-comer walked away with Mr. Platt Riley,
while the spectators of this interesting meeting chuckled
and winked significantly, and remarked:
"Ain't the Judge a honey cooler, though ? He ain't the
kind that'll hang a man first and try him afterwards. Not
much ; that ain't his style. Fair play's his motter, aud turn,
the rascals out every time.''
It is needless to say that during the interview just de-
scribed Phil, Serge, and Jalap kept themselves out of sight.
All that evening a constant- stream of visitors flowed in
aud out of Mr. Platt Riley's cabin. Each wore an expres-
siou of expectancy and suppressed mirth, and each bowed
gravely without trusting himself to speak when introduced
to Mr. "Bradwick." It was also to be noticed that none
of them shook hands with him; when he. complained of
this to his host he was gravely informed that hand-shaking
was not one of the customs of the camp.
On the whole, his impressions of ( 'amp Forty Mile were
so unpleasant, that he fully determined to get his dog
teams in motion the very next day, and push on further up
the river. It was only upon the urgent request of Mr.
Platt Riley that lie consented to delay his departure long
enough to attend a public meeting of the greatest interest
to all Yukon miners, that was to be held first thing in the
morning.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
507
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
RABBITS.
THEIR CARE, AND HOW TO BFILD THEIR HOUSES.
BY E. CHASE.
TIME lii-st rabbit I had I put in :i wooden box. Not know-
ing anything about his habits. I nailed laths over the
front to keep liini in. Tin- next morning I was very much
surprised to tiud that bunny had gnawed his way out. and
was busily engaged in eating up my last rose-bush.
The next lionse I built for him was against the back-yard
fence. In front of the house I tacked wire netting, and in
addition made a yard for him in which to run about, taking
good care to cover over the top, so " brer rabbit" could not
escape by jumping out. I thought I had him secure this
time, but when I was at school he burrowed out under the
fence, and ate up all the neighbors' flowers. My first week's
experience was certainly very trying on my pocket-book.
Rabbits make very interesting pets if one knows how to
take care of them. The house shown in the accompanying
diagram proved to be a very serviceable one. It is divided
into two " rooms," and has a small run attached. The floor
of the house should be provided with- sliding pans, which
will make clearing an easy matter. Ill order to keep all
dampness from the house it is necessary to raise it a few
inches from the ground. In winter — that is, in very severe
weather — it would be best to carry this house iu-doors. In
ea-LC 3 FEET
DIAGRAM
OF THE HOUSE AND YARD.
order to keep the rabbits from burrowing out, it is necessary
to drive down stakes, about two feet long, close together,all
around the yard. A box sunk in the earth at the further
end of the yard, with an opening so that bunny can go in
and out, is a luxury that lie will greatly appreciate.
For feeding rabbits, give them oats, corn, all kinds of
greeus, carrots, raw sweet-potatoes, tea-leaves (after they
come from the teapot), and milk. I have heard it said that
rabbits do not drink, but this is a mistake, as I have had
over sixty rabbits at a time, and never knew of one that
did not drink.
It is considered best
to keep the buck away
from the doe until the
young are a month old, as
he is apt to trample them.
The number of young varies
from four to eight. They are
born without fur, and their
eyes are shut. It usually
takes ten days for them to
open their eyes and get their
coats. The first little fellow
who ventures from the nest
is regarded to be the smart-
est one of the litter.
I have only been able to
discover three species of
rabbits — the Angora, with
long silky hair; the lop-
eared, with very long ears
which drag on the ground ;
and the common rabbit,
with which most of us are
familiar.
Rabbits are very good
barometers in their way.
Before a storm they will be-
come unusually frisky. Al-
though the sky may be
clear, if you see your pets
kicking up their long hind-
legs yon may make up your
mind there will be a shower
within a few hours.
A noted French scientist
recently experimented with
the different small animals
as to which could stand the
greatest amount of cold.
He decided -that the rabbit
could, for he locked one up
overnight iu a cake of ice,
and the next morning the
rabbit hopped out, feeling
very well, and with a tre-
mendous appetite. In spite
of this notable gentleman's
discovery, I have had three
valuable rabbits frozen stiff
during a siege of cold wea-
LOP-EARED RABBITS AT HOME.
508
ther.
IN COLUMN OF COMPAMKS.
THE MAJOR
THE MAJOR AND HIS OFFICERS.
THE DRUMMER.
"RIGHT FORWARD, FOURS RIGHT!"
KNICKERBOCKER GRAYS.
BY ANNE HELME.
"IN TIME OF PEACE PREPARE FOR WAR."
iTIHE clear tones of the bugle sound through the big ar-
-L senal, and there is a rush of small gray-clad boys car-
rying gnus to their proper places. Again it sounds attention !
Assemble ! And a long line is formed of apparently motion-
less statues. Then comes the roll-call. As in the regular
army, the First Sergeant in command calls out the name.
His voice is not stentorian, and neither are the answers, but
there is a very effective military tone and ring to them, and
answering every purpose. The orders are given by the
different boys in command — First, Second, and Third Cor-
poral, First, Second, and Third Sergeant, First, Second, ami
Third Lieutenant, Sergeant-Major, Color-Sergeant. Captain,
Adjutant, and Major.
To one who is not conversant with the manual of arms,
the commands given are somewhat bewildering; but so
well trained are the boys that they answer, and some with
military precision, and present arms and carry arms in a
delightful manner, eminently military, not always satisfac-
torily, for the small boys in command have sometimes to
repeat their orders, and occasionally Captain Hoyt, the offi-
cer in command, and also an officer of the United States
army, has to enforce the orders in a more far-reaching
voice and authoritative manner.
The Knickerbocker Grays is a private organization in-
tended to instruct the sons of New-Yorkers in the knowledge
of drilling. It is managed by several ladies, who give their
personal supervision to it. The class 'meets twice :i week
during the winter season in the arsenal of the Seventy-
first Regiment, at Thirty-fourth Street and Park Avenue.
The ages are limited, no boy under seven being allowed to
enter. The uniform is gray, with black trimming, and all
the military rules as to the number of straps, epaulettes,
and accoutrements are rigidly adhered to. The ho\s
learu to march well, although it is a comical sij;lit io >ee
some of the very small boys carrying their muskets and
making superhuman efforts to keep time. Perhaps the pa-
thetic note in the picture adds the finishing touch in the
little drummer-boy, who, clad in the same uniform, drums
with might and main. He is paid to drum, but there is a
look of pride and delight in his profession which quite pre-
vents any thought of pity at the contrast in his lot to those
of the boys of his own age who go into the drill merely for
the sake of occupation and amusement.
The boys love Tuesday and Friday afternoons, and al
though the stimulus of the medal given to the one who
does not miss a single drill has something to do with the
wonderful attendance, still it would be difficult to keep the
boys away even without having the prize to look forward
509
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
to. To answer to the name in roll-call is counted neces-
sary, and many a boy who Las been far too sick to go to
.school or study finds it quite possible to be on hand to an-
swer to his name, even if, after a few inarches around the
armory, his legs do get tired and he has to be excused.
Promotion i.s eagerly looked forward to, and there is
an immense amount of pleasant rivalry over who shall
be promoted to be Sergeant, Corporal, and the other offi-
cers. The Color-Sergeant carries the colors around with a
most heroic disregard to fatigue, while the four hoys who
make up his body-guard look at him most admiringly, and
not in the least enviously. Hound ami round the hall they
go, while the notes of the drum rattle out the time to keep.
The officers give their commands, and the companies go
from right to left as they are bidden. The officers look
very stern, and the soldiers themselves seem thoroughly
impressed at the importance of their duty, although the
boy nature will crop out at times, and there are occasion-
ally ebullitions of sheer good nature and animal spirit
which would hardly do in the regular army. Of course
each boy intends fully to be a soldier, and if a war should
break out it is to be feared that a number of young recruits
would insist upon being of service to their country.
The awkward squad is as amusing as all awkward
squads always are, but is only to be seen at the commence-
ment of the winter. It is composed entirely of beginners,
who have to attain a certain degree of efficiency before
they can be put with the others. But as the American boy
is very imitative, he soon learns, and at the end of the term
it would be difficult for any one to pick out the boys who
had only belonged for one winter. The Captains and Lieu-
tenants are line, manly-looking fellows, and their plumed
caps and glittering accoutrements are extremely becoming.
They have a full sense of the dignity of their position, as
why should they not have, when promoted from the ranks,
step by step, to the proud office which they now hold ? They
have not bought their commissions, but have earned them
by good, conscientious work. The boy who shirks, fools,
and carries on has the mortification of staying a private,
while his comrade goes steadily upward. The two officers
in charge, Captain Hoyt and assistant, have, the boys com-
plain, regular lynx eyes, and sometimes find out tri ding-
acts that are not compatible with military discipline, much
to the surprise of the fellows themselves. When a boy is
promoted, his promotion receives no end of congratulation
and applause from his fellow-soldiers, and it is doubtful if a
prouder moment can come in any man's life than comes
to the boy wheu he is put in command of the Knicker-
bocker Grays.
There is considerable emulation among the different
companies. The Grays, by-the-way, are divided into four
companies, A, B, C, and D,, and each officer endeavors to
have his company the best of all. And woe bs> to the boy
who is insubordinate. However, cases of real insubordina-
tion are extremely rare, for the boys soon catch the spirit
of true military life, and realize that the commands given
must be obeyed at once and without any question. It is
contended, and with reason, that one of the best features
of the drill is this very spirit of discipline, which every
mother kuows is one of the most difficult things in the
world to inculcate in boys.
The first movements of the regiment are quite pictu-
resque. After the roll-call the First Sergeant in command
calls out "Count fours!" in other words dividing off four
boys at a time; if they are more than make even fours,
the Second or Third Sergeant takes the extra boys and
reports with them to the Color-Sergeant, who takes them
for his guard. "Right four, fours right," is then called>
aud the boys take their positions. The First Sergeant
lace-, about and salutes his Captain. When the Captain
lias returned his salute, the Sergeant takes his post two
paces behind the company. Now is heard the tread of
feet, ami the Captain to whose company the colors belong
commands " Carry arms! Present arms!" Then the Color-
Sergeant aud the body-guard march in front of the com-
pany, and the Color-Sergeant takes his place two paces to
the left of the Third Sergeant, who is on the left guard of
his company — and the drill begins.
PUDDING II
This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls anil Yininir Women, snd the Editor will
be pleased to answer any question on the tubject eo far as possible. Correspondents should
address Editor.
DO I ever have the bines? Why, Lottie, what a ques
tiou to come from a girl of sixteen? Am I to infer
that you do, at your age, with the world a blaze of beauty,
and your feet so light and your heart so young that yon
ought to go skipping instead of walking, if oul'y yon dared
to let the gladness of your life overflow.
But girlsrfo have the blues, insists Gretcheu, at my elbow;
and she adds that they have reasons enough : that they are
not always understood, that they have fancies and thoughts
which they cannot always explain, that, in short, girls are
not always as happy as they look.
GRANTING that this may be true of some girls, what are
they to do? As a person not subject to these disagreeable
visitations, I can speak with the sort of authority the doc-
tor has when he enters the room of a patient. The doctor
need not have a fever in order to prescribe for it. In fact,
he will prescribe more successfully if he be well himself.
The blues make the person suffering from their presence
extremely uncomfortable, and her discomfort in a subtle
way acts upon others, so that nobody is quite cheerful in
her neighborhood. People who are " blue "are quite often
cross as well, aud are unable to accept pleasantly the ups
and downs of every day. Now, when you think of if, you
must admit that it is a very humiliating experience to be
cross, for cross people are 'disagreeable, aud none of us
wishes to be that.
THE best way to get rid of the blues is not to own that
they have you. Put on your hat and go for a walk. Call
on a friend and take her the piece of music you are to try
together, or the book you have just finished, which you
would like to lend her. Do something kind for somebody,
and stop thinking about yourself. The greatest waste of
time in this world, dears, is to think too much about one's
self. Mrs. Browning gives the right idea in her poem, •• My
Kate," where she says,
"Tvvas her thinking of others made you think of her."
DON'T laugh at me, girls, when I tell you that half the
low spirits one hears of springs from a very prosaic source.
That pound of chocolates, that rich pudding, that piece of
frosted cake, all of them very delicious, but all very indi-
gestible, are to blame, in most instances, for a young girl's
depression. Try what Emerson called "plain living aud
high thinking," and see how cheery life will become.
Oxi: of my girls writes that she had a vexatious little
problem. She has been accustomed to correspond freely
with one or two friends — boys of her own age — and " people
tell her it is wrong." My dear child, pray explain whom
you mean by " people," and what they have to do with it ?
Of course yon do not write letters to any one without
your mother's approval, and I suppose your mother reads
your letters, that you love to share all those yon receive
with her, aud that you show her those you write. If you
do this, nobody else is concerned. A girl should write no
letters, and should receive none, which she is not only
willing but very glad to show to her mother. When she
has had the great misfortune to lose her mother, then her
aunt, or her elder sister, or some kind matronly friend
should be her confidante. It makes no difference to whom
she. writes, if only she does it openly, and with the sympa-
thy, advice, and loving approval of those who are older than
she, and able to guide her.
510
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
OFF WITH THE MERBOY.
BY JOHN KENDEICK BANGS.
CHAPTER IV.
THK Bt'RKiU OF INFORMATION.
Y took the reins in hand,
and the Merboy sprang lightly out
of the carriage, and by means of
his tail wiggled himself to where
the bureau stood. He opened the
top drawer, and from where he sat
Jimmieboy, who was watching him
with a great deal of interest, could
see that it was divided up into sec-
tions, in each of which lay a do/en
or more large envelopes, each fat
with contents of some kind or another.'
•• I guess this must be the information I want about your
lockjaw," said the Merboy, picking up an envelope. "Yes,"
he continued, as he took great slips of paper out of it. " It
is. This envelope tells how to take spots outof carpets. Ha !
ha! Listen to this: 'To remove an ink stain from the par-
lor carpet, take a pair of shears arid cut out the spotted
part.' That's good advice. Here's another telling how to
start a tire. It says: 'First build your fire, anil then procure
a match. Any kind of match will do except oue that has
already been used. Light the match and apply the burn-
ing end to the kindling. If the kindling ignites, the fire is
started. If it does not. light another match and apply the
burning end to the kindling. Keep this up until the kin-
dling does ignite!'"
As the Merboy finished reading this a great commotion
was heard in tbe water directly overhead, and looking up
Jimmii-biiy saw a huge whale rushing headlong down tow-
ard him. At first he was a little frightened, but as the
whale drew nearer and smiled pleasantly at him his fear
for some reason or another disappeared entirely.
" Hullo, Merby," said the Whale. " What are you doing.'"
"I'm after information," returned the Merboy, shaking
the extended llipper of the Whale.
"So am I," returned the Whale. "I'm in great trouble."
" Indeed ?" said the Merboy. " What's the matter .'"
" I got into a fight with some whalers in the Arctic Ocean,
and one of 'em threw a harpoon at me, and it stuck in my
back. I want to get it out, but I don't know how. Which
drawer has information for Whales in it?"
"I don't know,'' replied the Merboy. "I'm trying to find
out what's the matter with Jimmieboy here. I'm afraid
he's got lockjaw, but the only thing the bureau has told
me so far is how- to take spots out of carpets and start
fires."
" What nonsense!" said the Whale "Let me try it, will
you ? I'm suffering like everything."
" Certainly," said the Merboy, standing aside. "Tin-re
isn't any special hurry about our case."
The Whale smiled gratefully and grabbed up an en-
velope. Opening it he extracted a slip of paper, and read:
" 'To make a good peacb pie get ten ripe sliced peaches,
a tin plate, and enough dough to cover first the bottom of
the plate and the top of the peaches. Put the, whole into
a hot oven and cook until done.' "
" Ho!" laughed the Merboy.
"This bureau's a nuisance," said the Whale. "The idea
of telling a sea-monster with a harpoon iu his back how to
make peach pie."
Here he selected another envelope. This oue contained
a slip which read: "It is not polite to sneeze in company.
If you like to sneeze, and are going out to an evening party,
contrive to do all your sneezing before you go. If during
the evening party you feel a sneeze coming on, rub tin-
bridge of your nose, or press the middle of your upper lip
with your forefinger, and the desire to sneeze will disap-
pear."
"Nice advice to give a Whale," sneered the monster.
"Where is my upper lip I'd like to know, or my forefinger
for that matter? If I don't catch the right answer this
time I'll hit that bureau with my tail and knock it all to
pieces.1'
The Whale made one more effort. Tljis time the slip he
'took out read, "If your teeth ache go to the dentist and
ha\e them pulled."
"That's a little nearer right," said the Merlioy.
"I don't see how," retorted the Whale. "I haven't a
toothache. I have a backache. Shall I go and get my
back pulled .'"
"No," said the Goldfish, "but perhaps you could get the
harpoon pulled."
The Whale's face wreathed with smiles.
"That's so," he said, eagerly. "Wonder I didn't think
of that before. It's a good idea. The bureau is some use
after all — t bough if it hadn't been for you, Merby, I'd never
have discovered it."
" Oh, yes you would," said the Merboy. "After \ on had
thought it over a little while you'd have seen what was
iin-ant. Information isn't any good unless you think about
it a little."
" Well, I'm obliged to yon just the same," said the Whale,
backing oft'. "It's pretty haul to think when one has a
harpoon in his back. I suppose you don't know where I
can find a dentist, do you?"
" No, I don't," said the Merboy. " I've never had occasion
to use one."
" Oh, well, I suppose there are such things, and so I'll
set about finding one. Good-by," said the Whale, and off
In- started in search of a dentist.
" He's a very dull creature." said the Merboy, returning
to the bureau. "He never thinks much even when he
hasn't a harpoon iu his back. Now for our trouble again.
This envelope looks as if it might tell us."
Again was tbe little fellow doomed to disappointment.
All the information contained in this envelope related to
the killing of potato-hugs, and the best way to keep inos-
qnitos from biting.
"This is the worst failure of a bureau of information I
ever saw, or else I don't know how to manage it, "he said.
•• Suppose you try it. Jimmieboy. You may have better
luck."
Jimmieboy dropped the reins and alighted from the car-
riage. Walking to the bureau he opened the sec 1 drawer
and found it full of books. They were very handsome
books on the outside, and if one could judge from their
titles they were attractive inside too. One of them, for
instance, was named The Porpoise of the Mediterranean, or
A Minnoir's Adventures on the Coast of Africa. Another was
labelled Poems of A. Hworfltixh. Another was called ./i-lliijixh
.lini/lrx, a title which so interested Jimmieboy that he
opened it and read some of them. In a minute he threw
his head back and laughed loudly, opening his mouth as
widelv as possible iu his mirth. He was so amused that lie
couldn't keep his lips closed.
"Listen to this." he said: "it's called 'The Unfortunate
Tale of the Polly wog:'
" The small sea-toad lie climbed a tree
One windy summer's d:iy.
And through the water chanced to see
A pollvvvog grown gray;
Whereat' he cried, 'Oh, Pollywog,
Come tell me, sir, I pray,
How is it you are not a frog
And vet have grown so gray '?'
" ' Because,' the Pollywog replied,
His visage turning pale;
' Because,' and here he deeply sighed,
And sadly wagged his tail ;
1 Because,' he added, as the tide
Grew wavy in the gale;
' Because I shed but tears ; I've tried
But cannot shed my tail.' "
"That's pretty good," said the Merboy, with a smile.
noticing with a great deal of relief that Jimmieboy had at
last opened his mouth. " Are there any more t" he ad. led.
just to see if Jimmieboy's cure were final.
" Yes," said Jimmieboy. " Here's one about ' A Sad Sea-
Dog.'
511
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
JIMMIEBOY SAW A HUGE WHALE RUSHING DOWN TOWARD THEM
' Oil, the sad sea-dog lie lias no fin,
And lie never moves, they say.
He sits as still as a piece of tin,
And he's never known to smile or gi'in,
Or to wipe his tears away.
' His chief delight is to bark and growl,
And to yelp and screech and snap ;
He does not mind if the wild winds howl,
He never will stir for fish or fowl,
And cares not what may hap.
'' He shakes his flippers and wags his jaws,
Delights in the awful gale,
He breaks each one of the ocean's laws,
And no one lives that can make him pause,
From sharks to the mammoth whale.
" And it's all because a fisherman —
A man with a great green eye —
Mistook him once for his black-and-tan,
And whistled to him, and called him ' Fan,'
In the days long since gone by.
" When a sea-dog's name is Anthony
Montgomery Varian,
'Tis apt to sour his spirit to be
Miscalled as upon that day was he
By a mean land name like Fan !"
"I should think so," said the Gold-
fish. "It's like being christened Alger-
non at church and being known as Pe-
tie in school."
'•' I don't wonder be sulked," said Jiin-
mieboy.
" Nor I," said the Merboy. " But, say,
Jimmieboy, you are cured of your lock-
jaw, aren't you f"
" Dear me, I forgot !" said Jimmieboy.
'' I wasn't going to open my mouth un-
der water at all."
. " Why not, pray ?" asked the Mer-
boy.
"For fear of swallowing the ocean,"
replied Jimmieboy.
"Ha! ha!" laughed the Merboy.
" Why, you couldn't swallow a drop of
it, much less the whole of it, the way
I've fixed it. Is that all you were do-
ing— just holding your month shut ?"
" That's all," said Jimmieboy.
"Well, well! The idea!" said the
Merboy. "Yon ought to have known
better!"
" Well, I didn't, "said Jiinmie.boy, glad
to find that it was not really necessary
to keep his month closed.
" Apparently not — and it took the bu-
reau of in formation to cure you. That's
a very useful bureau."
"Very," said Jimmieboy. "I'd like
to go through some of the drawers if we
have time. Have\ve?"
"Lots," said the Merboy, taking the
brush on the top of the bureau and fix-
ing his hair with it. "We have ten
times as much time as there is really."
"How can that be?" asked Jimniii'-
boy.
"Well, never mind now," said the
Merboy. "But some time you ask your
papa how long a dream a boy can have
who is asleep only ten seconds. You
will be surprised at what he tells you.
I once had a dream lasting forty years
in a nap that was less than a minute
long. So go ahead. You have plenty
of time, and I dare say you will find lots
of valuable information in the bureau.
I will be back in a few minutes."
" You aren't going to leave me, are you f" asked Jimiuie-
boy.
"No. I'm only going to drive the Dolphins around to
the stable. I'll be right back."
The Merboy entered the carriage again and drove oft",
while Jimmieboy turned his attention to the bureau of in-
formation. As he turned, his eye caught sight of two little
drawers that he had not noticed before on either side of
the mirror which surmounted the bureau. He tried to
open the right-hand drawer, but found it locked. The
left-hand one opened easily, and in it Jimmieboy found a
.little golden key. This, as it turned out, was the key to
the other drawer, and which, no sooner had the key turned
in the lock, slid out as though pushed by a spring, and from
it jumped the funniest little old man Jimmieboy had ever
seen, hardly taller than his thumb, and dressed from head
to foot in beautiful garments of silver and gold. In his
left hand the little old man carried a jewelled staff, and
his right hand he extended to Jimmieboy, as much as to
say,
" Why, howdy do ? I'm very glad to see you."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
512
fclNTERSCHOMASTIQ
ALTHOUGH THE NEW YORK ATHLETES will by no means
have a walk-over at the Berkeley Oval next Saturday,
when the N. Y. I. S. A. A. and the L. 1. 1. S. A. A. contend for
the Intercity championship in track athletics, they will
certainly carry oft" the honors of the day, and they ought to
do it by a good score. New York has better material this
year than has Brooklyn, and the schools here have been
devoting more time and energy to field sports than their
rivals have across the Bridge. In fact, the Long-Islanders
have shown a certain lack of interest in the Intercity con-
test which of itself is sufficient to betoken defeat. The
relay race between the New York and Brooklyn Interscho-
lastic teams was to have been run off at the Wilson and
Kellogg games on April 27th, and a large number of en-
thusiasts gathered at the Oval to witness the sport in
spite of the heavy downpour of rain. The hours passed,
however, and no Brooklyn racers appeared. Not even a
word of explanation came, and the race had to be post-
poned. It was thought at first that the Brooklyn team
did not come over on account of the storm, but I learned
the nest day that the reason of its non-appearance was due
to the fact that there was no team to come. Not enough
candidates had applied at the Brooklyn trial heats for the
managers to choose four capable runners. The very least
these managers could have done, under the circumstances,
would have been to notify the New York Interscholastic
authorities of this fact. Young sportsmen, as well as older
ones, should remember that one of the first considerations
among amateurs is to fulfil engagements that have been
entered upon, or if this is found to be impossible, to give
ample and timely notice to their opponents of their ina-
bility to do so.
WHILE IT is GRATIFYING to see such active interest dis-
played by the New York schools in ont-door sport, it is also
to be regretted, as I have had occasion tu say before in this
department, that so much of this interest should be turned
in one direction. The New York school-boys have taken
up track and field sports to so large an extent that baseball
has suffered materially this spring, and tennis has prac-
tically been dropped. Such a state of alt'airs must surely
bring evil results. It is a condition that cannot last long,
but while it does last it works considerable harm. The
genuine interests of field sports are not advanced by exces-
sive indulgence. It is best to encourage every game that
the season favors, and to attempt to do well in all branches
of sport than to excel in but one. Such an excellence can
be but ephemeral. In New England the school-boys are
wiser in this respect. They endeavor to develop them-
selves in all branches. Only a few days ago Mr. D. 8. San-
ford, principal' of the Brookline Higli-School, told me that
from statistics he had prepared he had learned that twenty
per cent, of the boys at the High-School play football, fif-
teen per cent, play baseball, fifteen per cent, take part iu
track athletics, and forty per cent, (of the boys and girls)
play tennis. Fifty per cent, take part iu no athletic games
at all. From what I have observed in and around Boston I
should judge that the athletic efforts of most of the other
New England schools are distributed in a similar ratio.
And yet, with only fifteen per cent, of the Hoys indulging
in track athletics, they manage to make pretty fair records !
IN BROOKLYN BASEBALL HAS not been allowed to suffer
neglect because of track athletics, and so the race for the
- Long Island championship promises to be interesting. The
teams are evenly matched with, but one or two exceptions.
Pratt Institute has no nine in the field, and Bryant &
Stratton's is practically out of the race, having already
been, defeated a number of times. The St. Paul's team has
a decided advantage, over most of the other nines in the-
Association in that it is mainly composed of experienced
players, most of whom were members of last year's nine.
Hall is pitching well, and has good support. The Brook-
lyn High's team is made up wholly of raw material, with
the exception of Captain Bruin, but the men are working
hard, and will do well before the senson closes. One good
feature iu this year's High-School athletics is the barring-
out of all questionable candidates, the two forfeited cham-
pionships of last year having evidently proved a salutary
lesson. The Brooklyn Latin has one of the strongest nines
in the league, and will probably make a strong bid for the-
pennant. Captain Litchtield is playing good ball at third,
and both Goodwin and Sloven are doing good work at
short-stop and first base respectively. Hall, of last year's-
Poly. Prep, team, is pitching, and Watt, formerly of Bryant
& Strattou's, is catching.
THE ADELPHI ACADEMY has turned out a better set of
players than it had last year, and promises to make a good
record. The team is made up pretty much of new ma-
terial, but the men are working hard. Jewell and Simpson
alternate in the box, with Forney as back-stop. Byers at
first and Graff at third are capable players. Poly. Prep, is
laboring under the disadvantage of an unfavoring faculty
— a group of honest gentlemen who have not yet caught
up with the fact that athletics have come to stay, and are,
in moderation, a part of every educational system. As the-
W. T. I.AING. N- W. UAKK1CE.
ANDOVER ACADEMY'S TWO RECORD RUNNERS.
school officers take no interest whatever in the sport, the
players are working along as best they can under these ad-
verse circumstances, and they an- fortunately getting good
support from their fellows. The authorities have gone
513
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
furih.T than u-ing passive in their attitude toward ath-
letics li.v ruling that Ste\ enson. t lie Captain of tlio nine,
sliall only play in league games. This i.s all very well if
Stevenson neglects his studies tor baseball, lint as 1'ar as I
am able to learn, snch is not the ease. Dnnue is pitching
fairly well, but t" be successful he must get better control
over (lie ball. Noyes, who is acting as substitute Captain,
i- putting up a steady game at, second, and McKay is doing
well at lirst. The other players are new. The out-field is
weak, but the team work at times is fairly good, and the
n certainly have a spirit and energy which are com-
mendable.
EVEN' A CASUAL OBSERVER cannot fail to notice how
much more is done for interscholastic sport in New Eng-
land than in New York and its vicinity. Not only do Har-
vard and Yale universities take an active interest in the
work of the young men whom they expect to gather into
their own ranks, but even the Boston Athletic Association,
\\hidi caniioi hope to derive any material benefit from its
exertions, ofl'ers cups and medals for interscholastic events,
and does all that is possible to aid and advise the Boston
school-boys. It seems to me that the New York Athletic
Club could do worse than follow the B.A.A.'s good exam-
ple. As far as I know , the N.Y'.A.C. does nothing in the
i nil-rest of school sports. To be sure, my indefatigable
friend Evert Wendell performs enough good service as
referee at scholastic contests to make up for many of the
club's shortcomings ; but Mr. Wendell does this purely as a
lover of sport, and not as a representative of the club.
Many of the best athletes of the N.Y.I.S.A.A. are mem-
bers of the N.Y.A.C. They ought to get together in the
near future, and, with the aid and. advice of Mr. Wendell,
endeavor to get the managers of the N.Y.A.C. to show
more active interest in the exceedingly good work now be-
ing done by the schools.
IN BOSTON, all the Interscholastic Committee meetings
are held ill the B. A. A. club-house on Exeter Street, and
every winter the clnb holds an in-door meeting for the
especial benefit of the thirty schools that compose the New
England League. The silver cup which the B. A. A. has of-
fered this year to be played for for five years by the school
baseball teams is a tine trophy, and cannot fail to act as an
incentive to 'the young players of the league. Harvard's
.work for the schools is even more active. Seven years ago
the university was instrumental in forming the New Eng-
land I.S. B.B. A., anil in 1891 it organized the Interscholastic
Lawn Tennis Association, whose fifth annual tournament
was held on Jarvis Field, Cambridge, Max 4th and Gth, with
au entry list of over fifty names. The prizes offered each
year are a gold medal or a cup to the winner, a racquet to
the runner-up, anil a championship banner to the school
whose team scores the largest number of points. This year
the cup is a handsomely engraved piece of silverware- in the
shape of a pitcher with one handle. As a general thing, I
do uot believe in medals and cups as inducements to young
men to enter into amateur sports. The pure love of the
game should be sufficient to call out their best efforts. But
there is no doubt that interest in their early ctVorls. ex-
pressed in some such material way by associations of older
players is a good thing, and it is certainly a strong incen-
tive to a general participation in athletics for many boys
who might otherwise be too indolent or too disinter* M< .1
to discover and develop their own capabilities. This once
done, however, there is no school-boy who is not enough of
a true sportsman not to keep on, regardless of any possible
material advantages or rewards. The mere title of cham-
pion is the most precious prize to be won in any field.
THAT HARVARD'S EFFORTS for the promotion of tennis in
the New England schools have been successful there is no
doubt. At the first tournament, held in 1891, R. D. Wreuu,
now the national champion, then in the Cambridge Latin
School, was i In winner, and he helped earn the pennant for
his school. The following year Malcolm Chace met Clar-
ence Budloug in the Interscholastic finals, and, after a hot
match, Chace took first, and carried the banner to the Uni-
versity Grammar School of Providence. Budlong won in
189:!, but only after a hard struggle with Ware, of the Rox-
bury Latin, who came up again in 1894 and carried oil' all
the honors, including the championship banner for the
school making the, highest number of points: Ware's
second victory in the finals last week entitles him to a
position among the leading young phncis of the country,
and I have no doubt that he will win at Newport in the
Intel-scholastic tournament this summer.
JARVIS FIELD AFFORDED a beautiful sight while the
tournament was going on last week. There were twenty-
two courts in use during the preliminary rounds, and a
goodly number of spectators stood around to watch the
players. I was most interested in Ware's work, and ga\e
most of my attention to his play. He was in three mail-lies
the first day, and won them all. He first met Edwards,
who is a strong player, and who made him do some sharp
work in the second set. Ware is particularly good on hard
drives, aud it is really inspiring to see him smash the ball
at the buck line, and come within a few inches of it every
time. But Henderson was lively, and returned many of
the champion's swiftest drives; he would have made a
better showing if he had been more accurate in his placing.
Later Ware defeated Bart left and Seaver, both in two
straight sets, three of which were love sets. Fitz showed
great improvement in form over last year, and reached the
semi-finals. He is a rising young player, and will be heard
from next year. On Monday, the 6th, Ware played in the
semi-finals and the finals and won the cup. Newton High
took the pennant offered for the school winning the greatest
number of points.
ARRANGEMENTS ARE BEING MADE to bring about a meet-
ing between the track-athletic teams of Phillips Andover
and Worcester academies. As yet no date has been set for
the games, but if the two schools can come to an under-
standing on certain minor points, it is probable that they
will be, held at Worcester during the week previous to the
big Interscholastic meeting at Cambridge in June. The
games will be most interesting, for both the Worcester and
Audover academies have strong teams. Headers of this
department will remember that the Worcester Academy
took second place, with 14J points, at the in-door meeting
in Boston last March, and Andover won the Interscholastics
in June last year. The programme of the dual games will
be the same as the Intercollegiate order of events, and only
three candidates will be entered from each school. Win ces-
ter's best sprinter, Clark, has been ill, and will not run
again this year, and so Semi or Barker of Andover will
have a better chance for the 100 and 220. Barker, how-
ever, is inclined to be indolent, and is not careful or regu-
lar in his training. Laiug of Andover is pretty sun- to
win the mile. He won that event in the Interscholastirs
last June in 4.IW?, but as he is twenty-one years old this
year, he is debarred from competing on Holmes Field in
June. This I.S.A.A. rule would not affect his status in the
Worcester-Audovcr games, however, and Laing will there
try to lower his record. Holt will take the shot event for
Andover, aud Malby, his schoolmate, will probably get sec-
ond. Holt should also win the hammer throw. Lorraine
of Audover will do no better than to secure a place in the
44(1, which will be won by Judd of Worcester, if lie runs.
But Judd may reserve himself for the half-mile, which he is
sure to take. As Audover has no good men in the jumps,
Worcester should get 10 points or more there, and Johnson
of Worcester will easily take the pole vault, having a rec-
ord of 10 feet 8 inches. Barker will give Hiue a close
race over the Jow hurdles, aud may win. Hine took the
event at the Interscholastics last year. These dual games
will be an excellent thing for the advancement of the
sport, and I hope some of the other large schools, situated
at a distance from one another, will take up the idea and
arrange similar meetings.
A FIELD MEETING of Pacific Coast amateurs was held at
the Olympic Club Grounds. San Francisco, April -20th. an.l
the school-boys who entered made a very good showing.
514
HARPER'S BOUND TABLE
The games were held for the benefit of the
University of California team, no\v in the
East, and the young athletes of the A.A.L.
compared very favorably with the men who
have come on to joust with Yale, Princeton,
and Pennsylvania. Jackson of the Oakland
High-School won the mile run in 4 iiiin. 38|
sec., with lirown of the University of Cali-
fornia second. Brown led in the last lap
until the stretch, when Jackson spurted and
•won by the very narrow margin often inches.
Jenks, O.H.-S., won the quarter in 52? sees.
by ten or twelve yards, with two universi-
ty men. Harm's and Parkhnrst. behind him.
Cheek, the captain of the O.H.-S. team, got
second in the broad jump, covering 21 feet,
and cleared 10 feet 2fc inches in the pole
vault. McConnell, O.H.-S., cleared 5 feet 3
inches in the high jump, and took second
in the event. The Pacific Coast scholars
may well be proud of these achievements in
a competition with men so much older and
more experienced than themselves.
THE GKADUATE.
THE
jHPUDDING
Tills Department i» run, Juried in tile iiitepr-l ..!' t.'irls Hn.l Yumi*
Women, and the Kdit.T will be pleased t.. answer «ny question on
the subject so I'tvr us possible. Correspondents should address Editor.
AILSIE BOND CAMIC to see me on last
Saturday afternoon, and I noticed at
a glance that something was wrong. I
knew it by her very step and her look. Ail-
sie is one of my darlings, such a bright,
brave girl, always just where one expects
to find her, the sweetest, dearest, sunniest
of companions. But she was under a cloud
last week. Let me add that she is sixteen
years old, and a school-girl.
" I AM so HOMESICK," she said, sitting in
her favorite corner of the lounge, with her
elbow resting on a cushion. "Here I've
tept up for mouths working hard and learn-
ing uver so much, and feeling every day that
father and mother are so good in sparing
me to stay away so long, and in giving me
these advantages, and now, when the last
school term of ihe year is almost ended, ex-
aminations coming on, and then so soon
home, sweet home and a long vacation, 1
can't stand it. I want my mother. I want
to sleep in my own little room. 1 want to
hug the baby. I want to count the silver,
and dust the parlor, and keep the library in
order, and run to meet my father when he
conies home from the office. Oh, I know
it is silly!" she said, laughing and crying
both at once, " but I can't help it. I'm home-
sick, and I'd rather have the toothache. It
wouldn't hurt any more."
THKIII-; WAS MI L\SE in arguing with dear
Ailsie, so I comforted her as best I could.
You girls who art away at school know all
about it. The homesick hours must come,
ami you wouldn't be really home-loving girls
if you didn't have them. Bnt if one never
went away from home, she couldn't have
the joy of going back there, and being met
at the station by her big brother, and hav-
ing father and mother welcome her, and the
little ones show how much they had grown
ill her absence, even the cat and dog show-
ing their delight that one they had missed
was \\ith them again. Poor pns.s. and poor
collie and terrier, I often wonder at lln-ir
dumb wonder and speculation as to what
has become of their friends when somebody
in the house goes olf and stays away a long
while. They cannot talk, but they purr or
wag their tails, and all but laugh when the
friends return. Yes, girls, brace up, as your
brothers say. A half -hour at home will
console you for the homesickness you suffer
from when absent. Keep up your courage,
and at the worst remember that
"Tlie darkest day,
Live till to-morrow will have passed awav."
THE WOODS AHE perfect dreams of beauty
in these May days, and what with the dog-
wood blossoms shining in starry splendor,
and the laurel getting ready to bloom, and
the orchards drifting their piuk-and-white
blossoms on the softly caressing winds, the
world is a beautiful place. Be on the look-
out for exquisite things and you will surely
iiml them. It is a pity to go blindly through
so much splendor. .Use your eyes and uli-
M;TI .• every day will show you something
new.
Dn> YOU EVEK NOTICE how cunningly
some birds hide their nests, weaving them
of twigs just the color of the ground, ami
then sitting on their eggs almost in your
sight. \et so unobtrusively that yon disi-ov-
er them only by an-idc-nt .' The liitlr so-
ciable wrens, less timid and more Iriendly,
build their nests by the very house door,
and are not afraid to let you have- a peep
at their pretty housekeeping. Birds arc in-
teresting neighbors to my mind.
ANNA C. ASKS WHAT you must have at an
afternoon tea. You /««// have anything yon
choose, sandwiches, small cakes, salads, ices,
candies, and, of course, tea served \\ith
cream and sugar, or with thin slices of lem-
on and sugar. But you unixt have, or, rath-
er, you need only have, if you wish, tea and
very thin, daintily served slices of bread-and-
butter. The idea of afternoon tea is merely
a light refreshment about live o'clock in I hr
afternoon, when you may have a few- mo-
ments' pleasant chat with the family ami
your friends, and when what you eat and
drink is a delicate accompaniment to the
conversation. Among the most acceptable),
sandwiches are those made with a crisp
green lettuce leaf between thin slices of
bread-and-butter, the lettuce salted and
sprinkled with vinegar, or of very dainty
brown bread witli cottage cheese thinly
spread on the two inner sides.
/
r, R.TISPT.M: rr.N TS.
Highest of all in Leavening Power. — Latest U.S. Gov't Report
y Baking
._, Powder
ABSOLUTELY PUBE
Books by Thomas W. Knox
THE BOY TRAVELLERS IN THE LEVANT
Adventures of Two Youths in a Journey through Morocco, Algeria, Tunis, Greece, and
Turkey, with Visits to the Islands of Rhodes and Cyprus, and the Site of Ancient 1
Illustrated. Square Svo, Cloth, Ornamental, $3 oo.
THE "BOY TRAVELLERS" SERIES
Copiously Illustrated. Square Svo, Cloth, Ornamental.dfo °O per volume.
ADVENTURES OF TWO YOUTHS—
XICO 1 IN CENTRAL AFRICA.
3TRALASIA. ' IN EGYPT AND PALESTINE.
E CONGO IN CEYLON AND INDIA.
E RUSSIAN EMPIRE. ! IN SIAM AND JAVA.
JTH AMERICA. IN JAPAN AND CHINA.
OTHER BOOKS BY COLONEL KNOX:
Hunting Adventures on Land and Sea
2 vols Copiously Illustrated. Square Svo, Cloth, Ornamental, $2 50 each.
THE YOUNG NIMRODS 'iN NORTH THE YOUNG NIMRODS AROUND THE
AMERICA.
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.
Vf The above works are for sale by all booksellers, or will te sent ty the publishers, postage frefa-
of the Untied States, Canada, or Mexico, on receipt of tlie price.
IN SOUTHERN EUROPE.
IN CENTRAL EUROPE.
IN NORTHERN EUROPE.
IN GREAT BRITAIN AND
IRELAND
L. DFteCJ.Xl.Oet't. — Readers of .
Round Table will please mention the paper
answering advertisements contained therein.
515
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
BICYCLING
Tbia Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will be pleased to
answer any question on the subject, besides inquiries reeardinE the League ol American
Wheelmen*, ao far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor Bicycling Department.
THK MAP THIS WEEK marks out cue of the several differ-
ent ways of going from New York to Stamford, Connecti-
cut, or any of the points aloug the way. A good ride for
an ordinary bicycle-rider who is not out to cover distance,
but wants to reach a certain point, stop for dinner and re-
turn, is to go from Fifty-ninth Street to Portchester, which
is about twenty-five miles, making in all a fifty-mile run.
This route may be extended if the rider is looking for a
longer distance, as far as Stamford, which is perhaps about
thirty-two miles from 110th Street. The road is an uncom-
fortable one to ride over until the rider is well out of the
city, but after that it is reasonably good, except for the
hills before going into New Eochelle, aud before going into
Mamaroueck.
THE EIDER SHOULD ENTER Central Park at Fifty-ninth
Street aud Eighth Avenue ; thence diagonally over to the
Eastern Drive, leaving the Park at its northern end; up
Lenox Avemie to 128th Street ; then east to Third Avenue,
aud then across the Third Avenue Bridge. Half a block
north of the bridge turn to the right on the southern Bon-
levard; follow the southern Boulevard east to Union Ave-
nue, something more than a mile, with Belgian block pave-
ment all the way. At Union Avenue it is well to leave the
southern Boulevard, because the macadamized road is so
full of holes, aud otherwise in very bad condition. Go on
Union Avenue about one-half mile north over mud ruts, aud
come out upon Westchester Avenue. Here the rider has
sixteen blocks of Belgian block pavement eastward. After
this comes a badly macadamized road, which has several
descents aud short sharp hills for about three blocks to
Fox Street; thence go on a fairly good road, improving all
the way, to the village of West Farms, where you cross-
the Bronx River and come out on the old Boston Post Road.
From here the road is macadamized aud is very good,
and the rider should keep to it all the way to Stamford.
Or he may turn right just out of Brouxdale and go down
to New Rochelle through Westchester, Baychester. etc. In
either case the road is the same after leaving New Ro-
chelle.
THERE ARE MANY LITTLE HILLS between Pelham Bridge
and New Rochelle, the longest being iu Neptune Park, just
south of New Rochelle village. The road is macadamized
and iu excellent order. There is a steep descent about
four blocks long as yon approach Larchmout Manor, with
a corresponding hill to climb as you enter the village.
There are three hills, each about three blocks long, between
Larchmont Manor and Mamaroneek. the road being macad-
amized all the way. North of Mamaroueck the road is
macadamized and kept in excellent, condition as far as Rye.
The road from Rye, thence around the north of Portches-
ter, theuce to bridge at Bryan River, sharp turn to right
here, and thence to Greenwich, is a well-kept macadam.
The rider may stop at Greenwich, if he choose, but the run
to Stamford to the north of Coscob at the head of Coscob
Bay is a good one. The country is rolling rather than,
hilly. There are no specially steep hills in this district.
AT NEW ROCHELLK A STOP may be made at the Huge-
not House, after a run of fourteen miles. By taking the
turn to the right indicated on the map just before enter-
ing Portchester, instead of turning sharp to the left and
following the bicycle route, the rider may run into Port-
chester and stop at the Irving or the West End Hotel,
while at Stamford the Stamford House is iu the centre of
the town, aud furnishes a suitable stopping-place for the
end of the journey.
NOTF.— Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. S09. Map o£
route from New Yorli to Tarrytowu in No. 810.
516
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
STAT^PS
This Department a conducted in the interest of stump mile, Mrs,
and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject
BO fur as possible. Correspondents should address Editor Stamp De-
partment.
SINCE THE FINDING OF THE variety in the
twelve-cent stamp of the United States,
illustrated a short time ago, the collectors
Jiave been industriously seeking for varie-
ties iu the other values in the same series,
and not without results, as two varieties
are now mentioned in other stamps, one of
them being the seven-cent of the 1872 issue,
and the other in the current two-ceut
stamp.
The first variety discovered is shown in
the accompanying illustrations, these show-
ing the lower left-hand corners of the seven-
cent stamp. In Fig. 2 a very iiue line will
L
be noticed around the two points of the
bulb, these being absent in the other varie-
ty. As the seven-cent stamp is somewhat
scarce, young collectors will hardly be in a
position to sort a number over to look for
the variety.
THE OTHER VARIETY which has been
found is shown in the two cuts given, these
representing the triangular ornaments in
the upper corners of the current two-cent
stamps. In the ordinary or common varie-
ty the lines run across the ornaments, while
in the new variety the lines stop at the
frame of the triangles, thus causing them to
show clearer. As there are a great number
of plates used forpriuting the two-cent val-
ues, the new variety will probably be found
in profusion, and it is interesting to hunt
for them.
A RECENT DESPATCH from Washington
stated that the Attorney-General had given
it as his opinion that foreign postage-stamps
were securities, and therefore came under
the law iu relation to counterfeiting. This
opinion, it would seem, would stop the using
ot stamp cuts of any kind iu this country,
hut the publishers have as yet taken no
notice of the matter.
THE FOUR, five, and fifteen cent values of
the United States 1890 issue have been
found iu an uuperforated state.
IN THE FIRST ISSUE of United States en-
velopes, iu giving the various dies of the
three-cent value the catalogue gives the
width of the labels in millimetres as show-
ing the dies. The label is the space at top
of stamp enclosing the word " Three," and
in measuring you take from each side of
the label, in some dies the label being
curved, and iu some it is straight on the
ends.
Louis A DYAR. — There is no half -penny English
postage stamp of a dark blue color. A complete cata-
logue of all stamps can be had of any dealer for about
fifty cents. All English stamps issued between 1858
and 18S7 had letters in the corners. The first stamp on
the sheet was lettered A. B. in the upper corners, B. A.
in the lower corners. The next stamp was lettered
A. C. in the upper, C. A. in the lower, and so on. Iu
addition each plate had a separate number.
R. F. J. — We cannot give addresses iu this column.
Apply to any stamp dealer if you do not find a satis-
factory advertisement hi the advertising columns of
tliiy paper.
F. S.MITU.— The two stamps' described by yon are
very rare Confederate locals. The New Orleans is
worth from $2 to $5, according to the color of the ink
and paper. Yon do not describe it sufficiently to de-
termine whether it is the regular issue or one of the
red on blue paper. The other stamp is the Mobile
black, sold by dealers at $40 each. You are to be con-
gratulated.
A. K — Yes. All United States stamps are increas-
ing in value.
K. C. B.— The 1838, 1845, 184T United States cents
are sold by dealers at from five to fifteen cents each,
according to condition. There is one 1838 cent in
which this date is struck over the date 1836. That is
a rare coin, and is worth $6.
FBRD. W. COON — The Cape of Good Hope stamps
made in 1861 are woodcuts made for an emergency.
The one penny blue and fonrpenny red of this issue
are "errors," and are worth &250 each.
ALBERT CURRIRR. — The value of the two locals
which are catalogued at $35 and $20 respectively,
which yon wish to sell, depends largely on their con-
dition. This department cannot tell what a dealer
ought to give for them. If one dealer will not buy at
your price, perhaps another will, but remember deal-
ers expect to, and, in fact, must make a profit.
M. B. W. — The United States Internal Revenue
stamps on the back of old photographs have no value
as a rule. Many millions were used every year for a
long time. This is especially true of the one-cent
stamps, except the one marked Playing Cards.
THE SECOND SUMMER,
many mothers Relieve, is the most precarious in a
child's life; generally it maybe true, but you will find
that mothers and physicians fnmiliar with the value of
the Gail Burden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk do not
so regard it— [Adv.]
ADVERTISEMENTS.
Physicians
prescribe Scott's Emulsion of
Cod-liver Oil and Hypophos-
phites because they find their
patients can tolerate it for a
long time, as it does not upset
the stomach nor derange the
digestion like the plain oil.
Scott's Emulsion is as much
e'asier to digest than the plain
oil as milk is easier to digest
than butter. Besides, the fish-
fat taste is taken out of the oil,
and it is almost palatable. The
way sickly children, emaciated,
anaemic and consumptive adults,
gain flesh on Scott's Emulsion
is very remarkable.
Don't be persuaded to accept a substitute.'
Scott & Bowne, N. Y. All Druggists. 50c.and$1.
MONARCH
King of all Bicycles.
TRADE-MARK.
Five Styles. Weights, 1 8 to 25 Pounds.
I'rices, $85 and $100.
MONARCH CYCLE CO.
Factory and Main Office, Lake and Halsted Sts. . Chicago.
Eastern Branch : 79 Reade St. , & 97 Chambers St. , N . V.
The C. F. GUVON Co., Ltd., Managers.
Sick Headache
AND
Constipation
are quickly and pleasantly
cured by
Tarrant's Effervescent Seltzer Aperient.
The most valuable family remedy for
Disordered Stomach
and Impaired Digestion.
SO cents and $1.00. All Druggists.
TAKBANT & Co., Chemists, N. T.
Stamps,
STAMPS!! ..„_.
Miri^JSr-wi ^.saJ^svSJA'SB
STAMP CO.. 4 Nicholson Place. St. Louis, Mo. Old
L'. S. and Confederate Stamps bought.
100 all dif. Venezuela, Costa Rica, etc., only
IOC,; '200 all dif.Hnyti, Hawaii, etc., only 5pc.
Ag'ts wanted at 50 per ct. com. List FREE!
C.A.Stegniaun,2722Ead8Av.,St.Loais,Mo.
var., all dif., 5c.; 12 var. Heligoland,
15c.; 6 var. Italy, 1853 to 1362, 5c.; 3 var.
_ _ _ _ . . , , .
Hanover, sc.: 85 var. C. American, 50c. Agents wanted.
F. W. MILLEll, 904 Olife St., St. Louis, Mo.
all different, Chinn, elc., 10c.; 5 Saxony, 10c.;
40 Spain, 40c.; 6 Tunis, 14c.; 10 U. S. Hev-
— enues lOc. Agts. wtd., 50* com.; '95 list free.
CRITTENDEN & BQRGHAM CO.. Detroit. Mich.
100
POSTAGE DUES.— 50c. and 30c., at 70c. each; the
pairfor$1.26. Diamond Stamp Co., (Jerniaiitown.Pa.
PUZZLE PURSE.
A first-class morocco purse with nickel frame
and clasp. Can't be opened without the secret ;
worth 25c. as a purse and $5.00 as a "brain
cracker." As sample of our looo Bargains we
mall ItpnRtimlit with lnr<jr<? i'atalnpiio for K-r.
INGERSOLL & BRO. 65 CORTLANIT ST. N. Y. CITY.
H
II Q n r n ' C thoroughly revised,
Anrtn 0 classified, and in-
dexed.will be sent by mail to any ad-
E
517
Twenty-three Puzzle Awards and Answers.
Tim We-t carried "ft' the honors in the Twenty-
tin, T flu 1 1 Conti~t, and they nu- liiu'll honors, I'm tin'
c|iii".!i,,n- were MTV difficult. Tl iswere follow.
Th<> authority (or most of them i.« Mr. Joseph W< '
M 'a iih/. ry "< il"' American <'<ni:iress, just pub-
lished
1. Nathaniel Macon. '2. r,enjatnin Harrison, great-
L'i iiHlf.il IKT of ex-Presideut Benjamin Hanson. 3.
John Hancock. 4. James Oglethorpe. 5. Gen. John
Newton. 6. Juimlhnn Edward.-. V. Mile- Standish ;
(i..v. William r.radlord. K. Kliphalet Xotl. 9. Thos.
H. Benlon. 10. Thomas Curwiil. 11. Gen. Sam
Houston. 12. James Otis. 13. G 'ge \\ :i-liington.
14. Davy Crockett. 15. Geo. B. Roberts. 16. James
Fitch. IT. Jared Ingersoll. IS. Tl lie Godfrey.
19. Bayard Taylor. 20. Charles Ellet. •_'!. Robl I:
Livingston. 22. Anne C. de la Luzenic. 2:;. Henry
D. Thoreau. 24. George Inness. 25. Henry Iiiinan.
!i(i. John Adams. 2T. William Lloyd Garrison. 23.
Oliver Hazard Perry. 29. Stephen A. Douglas. 30.
Timothy Ruggles.
Longfellow credits Miles Standish with the Bending
back of the snake-skin, nnd the "S" in his name is
i ii-il to get the second answer; but the act i< also
credited to Governor William Bradford. Hence both
were accepted^ George Inness is the correct answer
to Number 24, for the puzzle was particular to say
"the late."
The first prize, for sending correct answers to
the greatest number of questions, was won by Alga
Fawcett, of Minnesota, and is $10 in money. Two
second prizes of $3 each fire awarded to John Morton
Espey, of Pennsylvania, and Frances C. Bliveu, of
distant Washington. Two third prizes of $1 each are
given to John H. Blair, of New York (Ithaca), and
Walter Johnson, of Minnesota. And nine Columbian
half-dollars, as fourth prizes, are sent to Marion Mil-
ler, of Maryland; Marguerite Clow, of Minnc-,,ia ,
Edmund Rice, Jr., of Washington , Harold I >. Samp-
son and Kenneth Burton, of Wisconsin ; Gertrude G.
Wilcox, of Massachusetts; Esther Neilson, of Penn-
sylvania; Mary T. Porter, of New York, and Katie
Bartholow, of Maryland.
The first prize winner got 25 correct answers ; the
second, 24; the third, 23, and the Columbian half-dol-
lar winners, 22 and 21.
If the last names of the twenty-three members of
the C'lnb be rightly arranged the initials spell "The
Landing of the Pilgrims." Prizes of bound v.d'iim's
of Hun-Kit's YOUNG PKOPLK were offered for finding
this sentence, no regard being had for the uniul"'i ot
names found. The winners are: Pennsylvania, Will-
iam F. Campbell ; Wisconsin, Harold ». Sampson and
Kenneth Burton; Washington, Edmund Rice, Jr.;
Illinois. Alice Enright: New England, Helen C. Hop-
kins; Minnesota, Alice E. Dyar ; Michigan, Henry
Mardn Jones; Indiana, James Gibbons; New York
aud New Jersey, Mary T. Porter (New York); Mis-
souri and Kansas. Mary T. Robinson ; Tennessee,
Frank Hopkins; Manitoba, Jules E. Maijoi ibanks ;
and "at large," Pansy Caldwell". of Alabama, aud
Maddiu C. Mai shall, of South Carolina.
IRounfc "Cable Cbapters.
No. 687.— The Washington Chapter, of Warsaw,
111. Phillip Diillam, Willie Hoff man. Box 106, War-
saw.
No. 688.— The Grove Literary and Musical i 'hap-
ter.'of New York city. Hattie Lovell ; Edythe G.
ll.i l ha way, i;?' Horatio Street.
No. 689.— The Whittier Chapter, of Englewood,
III. Percy Wilkinson, Raymond Hathaway, Stearns
Bushnell, Herbert Snider. Other members are
Morev Porter, George Kay, William Mueller. Its
meetings are held on Friday. Chapter address,
439 Englewood Avenue.
No. il'.iO.— The Charleston Stamp Exchange Chap-
ter, of Charleston, S. C. It desires to corresp 1
with other stamp exchange chapters, and would
like members from other cities, chapter address,
.1. imes E. Nestor, 26 Pinekney Street.
No. 691.— The El Dora Social Club, of San Fran-
ci Cal. J. J. Cohn, George Dreck, i ;»•. irge Ro-
senberg, S. Michels. Other nieiiil" -r- are i
Hlanchard, Al Williams, Aaron Lewis. Da\ • and
1 1 MI.I M Caro. Its object is si trial a III us<' in. -lit. and
it would like members from all parts of the globe.
chapter address. 6G9 McAllister Street.
No. 693.— The Margaret Sangster Chapter, of sa-
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
lem. Mass. Bessie Fabens, Katherine Wardwel),
Grace Oliver; Eleanor Little, 40 Chestnut Street.
s> IK in I? s. $
No. 83.— DOUBLE ACROSTIC.
1. Clotted blood.
2. Smooth.
3. A circle.
4. A denomination of money.
5. Superficial contents.
0. Time of day.
7. An enclosure.
The initials and finals, read downward, give the
names of two countries. SIMON T. STERN.
No. 84.— AN EAST DIAMOND.
1. A letter. 2. A verb. 3. To crush. 4. A verb.
5. A letter. ADA JEMPSON.
No. 85.— A RIDDLE.
Animal, nor vegetable,
Nor mineral am I ;
A natural product, 1 exist
From two to six feet high.
I am not she, I am not lie,
But just between the two.
You'll often see me take my place,
And sometimes hear me too.
I have no breadth, I have no length,
I'm neither thin nor thick,
I'm used to show a faithful love,
And mark a traitor's trkk.
I'm mentioned oft in Holy Writ.
Both in the Old and New,
And strongly recommended there
By holy men and true. J. M. C.
No. 86.
My first is in house, but not in barn,
My second is in sock, but not in darn,
My third is iu love, but not in hate,
My fourth is in worm, but not in bait,
My fifth is in eight, but not in six,
My last's iu slab, and likewise iu sticks,
My whole an author is whose name and worth
Are known and cherished over all the earth.
HORACE F. MAYOR.
* * *
Answers to Kinks in No. 808.
King, French, Swett, Bangs, Sangster, Hender-
son, Patterson, Stuart, Pyle, Lillie, Munroe, Curtis,
Otis, Gibson, Brooks.
Priscilla.
BOTS' NAMES.
1. Sam, 2. Lew, 3. Adam, 4. Ed, 5. Rob, 6. George,
T. Andy, 8. Andrew, 9. Dan. 10. Lee.
* * *
College Veils and Colors.
The TABLE is indebted to many members for re-
plies to the question asked by " M. T." about col-
lege and yells colors.
Amlierst.— " Rah! Rahl Rah! Rah! Rah! Raul Arn-
herst!" — Purple and white.
Annapolis.— Navy blue and old-gold.
Bowdoin.— "B-o-w-d-o-i-n Rah, Rah, Rah." —
White.
Hamilton.— "Rahl rah! rahl Hatn-il-ton, zip rah
boom!" — Rose pink.
Johns Hopkins.—" Hullaballoo. Kanuck, Kanuckl
Hullaballoo, Kanuck.Kauuck! Hoorah! Iloorab; J.
H. U.I"— Black and blue.
Lafayette.— "Rah! Rah! Rah! Tiger Lafayette!"
— Maroon and white.
Lehigh.— " Hoo, ray rayl Hoo, ray ray! Ray ray
ray. Lehigh!'' — Brown and white.
Lelaud Stanford Junior University. — "Rah-Rah-
Rah (three times) Stanford!" — Cardinal.
Oberlin.— "Hi!-O!-Hi!-O!-Hi-O!-lIi!-Hi!-O! Hi! O-
ber-lin!" — Crimson and gold.
University of Alabama. — " Rah. hoo, ree! Univer-
sitee! Rah, boo] Wan, hoo! A. C. U.I"— Crimson and
white.
University of California.—" Rah! Rah! Rahl Call-
forn-i-a-U. C. Berk -lee Zip-Boom-ah!" — Blue and
gold.
University of Chicago.— "Chi-ca-go! Chi-ca-gol
Chi-ca-go go! Go-it-Chi-ca! Go-it-Chi-ca! Go-it-Chi-
ea li"!" — Maroon.
518
University of.Michigan.— "U. of M. Hurrah! Hur-
rah! Hoo-rali! Hoo-rah! Micliigaru Michigan! rah!
rah! rah!"— Maize and blue.
University of Pennsylvania.— " Rah: Kalii Kali:
Penn-syl-vani-alil" (seldom used). "'Hay! 'Ray!
'Ray! Pemi-syl-vani-a!" (short and sharp). This is
the most common form. " Hoo-rah! Hoo-rah! Hoo-
rah! Penn-syl-va-ui-ah-h-h!" Each syllable is
strongly accented, aud the "ah" prolonged.
Following are sporadic, borrowed from no one
knows where-
THE OI.LT-KAZOOK.
Olly-kazook-Alack! Alack!
Olly-kazook-AIack! Alack!
Hoorahl Hoorahl Penn-syl-va-ni ahl
THE OWSKI-WOW-WOW. v
Owski-wow-wowl
Whisky-wow- wo wl
Holy-niuckeli!
Kentuckyi!
PennsylvanyiJ
These last two are not the Pennsylvania yells,
strictly speaking, but they are used at nearly all
games, etc., for a change now and then. Another
prime favorite is a melancholy chant.
"Oh me! Oh my! How we blacked the Tiger's
eye!" The colors are red and blue.
University of Vermont. — " Rail, rah, rah, rah, r;ih,
rah! U. V. M.I rah, rah!" — Straw and darkgreen.
University of Virginia. — "Rah-rah-rah, Uni-v!
Rah-rah-rah, ver-si-tee! Ver-gin-i-a!" — Navy blue
and orange.
Vanderbilt.— " Vanderbilt, Rah, Rah, Rah! Whiz
Booml Zip-Boom, Rah, Rah, Rah!"— Black aud old-
gold.
Vassal1.— Rose and gray
Wesleyan. — " Rah, Rah, Rah Rah, Wes-lei-an-a!
Rah Rah Rah Rah Rahl"— Cardinal and black.
West Point.— "Rahl Rahl Rayl Rahl Rah! Ray!
West Point! West Poiutl Armay!"— Black and
gray.
Thanks are due to the following for the informa-
tion given. Grant Knaiiff, Jim,, F M. E., R. II.,
Clara Rompano, Harold Simonds, R. C. Wente,
Dudley S. Steele, A. D. J., Isabelle Willis, B. F. E.
Lantie V. Blum, Harry B. Reese, and V J. Smith.
Want Corner.
Samuel Ever*, Samliford, Philadelphia, sends the
TABLE an account of a tiip which he and about
twenty youn^ friends made to New York last win-
ter. His account is admirably written. His gram-
mar, construction, and penmanship are away
above the average for his age. He tells about
visits made by his jolly party to the Art Must-urn,
to an ocean ship, and many other places. We do
not print his letter in full, because lie dt^rt ihc<
sights that are already quite familhir, by descrip-
tion at, least. We know his party had a t:ood
time, for it called at Franklin Square, and a look
at the jolly faces demonstrated it. Sir Samuel be-
longs to a Chapter which wants correspondents
everywhere,|especially about moths, mint-nils, and
flowers. Write him for names of individual mem-
bers. You can get some good correspondents
among them of both sexes.
Harrie O. Bender, 5903 Tulip Street, Wissinoming,
Philadelphia, Station F,, is, we think, a member of
the same Chapter as the preceding— the Sylvia.
At any rate, the Sylvia has the same wants. It
seeks to make a collection of pressed flowers from
all over the world. Won't you help it? Of course
it "t.Mids flowers in return. Hubbard Marsh asks
how to cure the skins of small animals. Won't
some member ask a taxidermist and send the in-
formation in the form of a TABLE morsel? -We
will print it with due acknowledgment and thanks.
The TABLE is in receipt of a long letter from its
old friend, Janet Cowley, whose present address is
care W. E. Moxon, Bungalow, Shfrwuod Road,
Toowong, Brisbane, Queensland, Australia. Writ-
ing in January, she says the weather is oppressively
hot — such is the difference in seasons. She also
says that the Table's other Kamerunga friend,
Constance Smith, is married and living in Sydney.
Lady Janet promises to answer all her American
correspondents as early as their number and her
tiiiu- permits.
HAEPEE'S ROUND TABLE
Any questions in reiirtnl to photograph injttt?rs will tie willingly
answcreil i>v the eiliti'r of this column, and we slnml.1 be glad to hear
from any ut'our club \vlio can make helpful suggestions.
IT is a fortunate thing for the would-be
amateur photographer that a dark-room,
used exclusively for photographic work, is
not oue of the "must-haves" of photog-
raphy. If it were, there would douhtless be
vrry few amateurs, especially among the
young people.
To make the work of arranging a tempo-
rary dark-room simple and easy, the mate-
rials should be kept all together and in as
compart a form as possible. For storing
the ehemirals and trays a wooden box eigh-
teen inches Ibug, twelve inches wide, and
eight or ten inches high will be found a
convenient size for holding all the material
necessary to use for developing.
A rack to hold the bottles should be
made of a piece of halt-inch board half the
si/.r of the bottom of the box. In this
board cut boles the size of the bottles con-
taining the solutions for developing. Fasten
this board securely to the inside of the box,
about four inches from the bottom. The
bottles will tit in the holes, and there will
be no danger of breaking or spilling their
contents when carrying it from one place
to another. Square bottles should be used
for the hypo, ami round bottles for the de-
velopers. Five bottles will be enough for
the chemicals — one for the hypo, one for old
and one for new developer, one for the re-
strainer, and one for the accelerator. Have,
the labels on the bottles large and distinct,
and make the box on the outside " Pol-
SONS."
The trays can be placed one inside the
other ami put into the box by the side of
the bottles. The glass funnel should be
turned over the top of one of the bottles,
and unless the lantern, is an extra size,
tliere will be plenty of room to set it in the
box. Nail a strip of leather across the box
for a handle. A piece of board an inch or
two larger all round than the top of the
box will serve for a cover when the box is
not in use.
With one's materials in this convenient
and portable form it is a simple matter to
get ready for developing, and when one has
finished it is but a moment's work to re-
plaee the materials and put, them away.
This plau of storing materials not. only
saves a great deal of time and trouble, but
often prevents mistakes in developing.
In preparing for developing get every-
thing ready before the plates are taken into
tin- chirk-room. Always be particular to
place the hypo trays in the same place
eaeh time you develop plates, and you will
never make the mistake of putting a nega-
tive into the hypo instead of the developer.
Keep all the trays and bottles wiped
clean. The trays should be thoroughly
rinsed each time after using, so that no
trace of hypo from the fixing tray may come
in contact with the developing tray.
The amateur more than perhaps any
other person .should cultivate habits of
neatness, carefulness, and exactness.
IVORY 5 GAP
IT FLOATS
At all grocery stores east of the Rocky Mountains two sizes of Ivory Soap
are sold ; one that costs five cents a cake, and a. larger size. The larger cake is the
more convenient and economical for laundry and general household use. If your
Grocer is out of it, insist on his getting it for you.
THE PROCTER & GAMBLE CO. OIN'TI
•••••«••••»•*•••••»•<>_«
PUZZLE PENKNIFE, 7Oc.
Tastes good as
it goes down, does good
.^^ when it gets down.
I HIRES'
I Rootbeer 1
J makes the children rosy-cheeked, 2
J keeps the parents healthful, helps K
IL the old folks carry their years Jj
If* lightly. A 25c. package makes *^
the whole family happy.
CHAS. E. HIRES CO.,
fc PHILADELPHIA. .(*J
(*•>••••••••••••••••••••'
! Kombi
Camera
$3.50 .
! SMALLEST CAMERA MADE
Carry it in your pocket. Size l.M x2in. Weight4oz.l
1 takes 35 pictures with one loading. Made of seamless ]
1 metal, oxidized silver finish. Size of picture 1 in. sq. j
i The simplest camera made. Any boy or girl cau use it. •
f Every instrument fully guaranteed. Not n toy, but a:
« practical camera. THE KOMBI complete. $3.r>l). Roll J
t of film (25 exposures! 20 cts. extra. We develop your A
? negatives if desired. Illustrated Booklet Free. .
. Alfred C. Kemper, Mnfr., 208 Lake st. . Chicago*
4 BRANCHES— LONDON : 36 Oxf ord-st., W.
BERLIN :1U Taubenstrusse, W. C
HOOPING-COUGH
CROUP.
Roche's Herbal Embrocation.
The celebrated and effectual English Cure without
internal medicine. Proprietors, \V. EDWARD & SON,
UiKTti Victoria St., London, England. Wholesale of
E. J«'«ucera& Co., 3O North William St.. X.Y.
BASE BALL. HOW TO, PLAY IT.
A Great liook, contains all the rules; also
the secret of pitching curved balls, and to
bat successfully. Rules for Football and Ten-
nis. Lvery player should have it. Entirely
newand handsomely illustrated. ThisGret&t
Hook. Free to any one sending us 1O
rents to pay postage. Alsn Catalogue Guns,
levolvers. Musical Instruments, Magic Tricks.
All for IOC. Or.l»-r miicfc. For
r*l 'i.% we will send Our ISjine Hall
0*i« m. consisting of 9 Caps. '.I Belts, f Ball,
IBat. BATES SPORTING CO. ,1OO High St. .Boston, Mass.
CARD PRJKTERfME
hour. YOU can make money with ie. A font of
pretty type, also Indelible Ink, Type Holder, P»da
ind Tweeters. Ht-.it Linen Marker; worth «1.00.
Sample mailed FREE for lOc. stamps for pustne oa
-itfit and large catalogue of lOIMj Bargains.
„)]! A; Bro. «o t'ortlandt St. iN.T. City
I i. II. 1 1. 1-
elliandle. Pre*» the button and it opena. Worth 25c. aaa Itflitv ao.1?:. ""<n
ai.r-i'c A Batnnle ofo'irliK»> Barcaina, mailed postpaid wiihCci. f"r |Ur.
UOI1T. H, INtiKRSOLL & BRO, 65 COUTLASDT ST. N. Y; till,
NESS &, HEAD NOISES CURED
by m.^lNVISIBLE Tubular Cushions. Have helped
niore to piml II C i D inu' than all other de-
DEAF
vlceS combined. Whispers II CM lid. Help ears as glasses
doejes. F.lllacox, 858 B'dway.N.Y. Boot of proofs FREE
-kTen Old Songs.
THE brief list given below names
ten songs from each Number of the
Franklin Square Song Collection.
This is only one-twentieth, by the
Arithmetic, of the round Two Hun-
dred to be found in each Number, or
of the Sixteen Hundred in the Eight
Numbers thus far issued.
ISO. I. All Together, Annie Laurie, Blue Bells
of Scotland, Bonnie Doon. Columbia, the Gem of
the ocean ; Home, Sweet Home ; Last Rose of Sum-
mer, Long, Long Ago ; Old Oaken Bucket, \Vhen'
the Swallows Homeward Fly.
ISO. 2. Flow Gently, Sw*t Afton ; Ever of
Thee, Juanita. Kathleen Mavourneen, Killamey,
Mary of Argyle, Speak Gently, The Long Weary
Day, Twickenham Ferry, What is Home without a
Mother ?
No. 3. Ah ! I have Sighed to Rest Me, A Life
on the Ocean Wave, Be Kind to the Loved Ones at
Home. Blue Juiiiata; Chime Again, Beautiful Bells;
Do They Miss Me at Home? In Happy Moments
Old House at Home, Rain Upon the Roof, The Va-
cant Chair.
I<Jo. 4. Dublin Bay, Happy Are We To-Night,
Boys : Keller's America'n Hymn, Ossian's Serenade,
Rock Me to Sleep, Mother ; Search Through the
Wide World, Sweeter than the Breath of Morning,
Trancadillo, When the Bloom is on the Rye.
!>JO. 5. All Among the Barley, Ben Bolt, Fair
Land of Poland, Home Again, Maryland, My Mary-
land • Speed, My Bark ; Thou Art So Near and Yet
So Far ; Tramp, Tramp, Tramp ; When I Come;
Within this Sacred Dwelling.
Ko. 6. Alice Gray, Andreas Hofer, Eyes So
Blue and Dreaming, Faded Flowers, Listen to the
Mocking Bird, Jamie's on the Stormy Sea. M- " <
Harlech, Rockaway, She Wore a Wreath of Roses,
Tenting on the Old Camp Ground.
ISO. 7. Cousin Jedediah, Gentle Annie, Hark,
I Hear an Angel Sing. Irish Emigrant's Lament,
Touch the Harp Gently, Love's Golden Dream :
The Years Creep Slowly by, Lorcna ; O Give Me bi
My Arab Steed, The Star of Gleugary.
!«Jo. 8. Chimes of Zurich, Flow, Rio Verde;
There's a Good Time Coming, I'd Weep wn
Lone Starrv Hours, Lovely Nancy, Johnny Schmc
ker, Mermaid's Evening Song. Old Easy C.:
the Fire, The German Fatherland.
*s.»Sold Everywhere. Price, 50 ceiu
cents; Cloth, $1.00. Full contents
Numbers, with Specimen Pages of fa
and Hymns sent, without cost, to an
Harper & Brothers, Xew York
519
<&•-!* •- •- j #; ,.>\\ t*
OPENING OF THE CIRCUS SEASON.
AN ACT "NOT ]K)WN ON THE HILLS."
IT DIDN'T WORK.
IT isn't always safe for a small boy to take liis father's
jokes and games too seriously. This was shown very
plainly at one time by the experience of an Englishman
and his son upon a railway journey which they took to-
gether. While the little fellow was gazing out of the open
window his father slipped the hat off the boy's head in such
a way as to make his son believe that it had fallen out of the
window. The buy was very much upset by his supposed
loss, when his father consoled him by saying that he would
*' whistle it back." A little later he whistled, and the hat
reappeared. Not long after the little lad seized upon his
father's hut. and Hinging it ont of the window, shouted,
4' Now, papa, whistle your hat back again !"
A DAINTY FOR ELEPHANTS.
IF there is anything in the world that an elephant loves
better than a peanut it is an orange, and if any boy who
reads this wishes, when he goes to the circus, to give the
massive creature au especial treat, instead of paying five
•cents for a bag of peanuts to put in the elephant's trunk.
let him purchase for the same money one good-sized orange,
and present that to the small-eyed, flat-eared monster. A
number of years ago, in a book which was called Leaves
from Hie Life of a Special Correspondent, Mr. O'Shea, the au-
thor of the book, gave the following description of an ad-
venture he had with a herd of elephants. Said he: "A
young friend asked me once to show him some elephants,
and I took him along with me, having first borrowed an
apron and filled it with oranges. This he was to carry
whilst accompanying me in tin- stable, but the moment we
reached the door the herd set up such a trumpeting — they
had scented the fruit — that he dropped the apron and its
contents, and scuttled ott' like a scared rabbit. There were
«ight elephants, and when I picked up the oranges I found
I had twenty-live. I walkVd deliberately along the line,
giving one to each. When I got to the extremity nf the
narrow stable 1 turned, and w:is about to begin the dis-
tribution again, when I suddenly reflected that it' elephant
No. 7 in the row saw me give two oranges in succession to
No. 8 he might imagine he was being cheated, and give me
a smack with his trunk — that is where the elephant falls
short of the human being — so I went to the door and began
at the beginning as before. Thrice I went along the line,
-and then I was in a lix. 1 had one orange left, and I had
to get back to the door. Every elephant in the herd had
his greedy gaze focussed on that orange. It was as much
as my life was worth to give it to any one of them. What
was I to do? 1 held it up conspicuously, coolly peeled it,
and ate it myself. It was most amusing to notice the way
those elephants nudged each other and shook their ponder-
ous sides. They thoroughly entered into the humor of the
thing." "
ARITHMETIC.
MAMMA. " Suppose yon have four apple-dumplings, Willie,
and you eat three, then what do you have?",
WILLIE. " Nightmare."
IN MEMORIAM.
Mv broken soldiers, made of lead,
Are buried in the garden bed,
And lovely flowers o'er them play,
For this is Decoration day.
TOMMY'S PROGRESS.
MAMMA. " Yon may open your school report, Tommy, and
tell me how you have been doing this week."
TOMMY. " Oh, here is the highest mark, mamma, a 1."
MAMMA. " And what is that for, Tommy ?"
TOMMY "Days absent,!."
JOHNNY'S COUNTING.
JOHNNY. " Mamma, I can count all the way np to twelve."
MAMMA. "And what comes after twelve, Johnny .'"
JOHNNY. " Recess."
AN APPEAL.
"PAPA," said Jennie, climbing upon her father's knee,
"don't you think that 'stead o' ten cents a week you could
give me fifteen ?"
" Well, 1 don't know, my dear," was the answer. " AVhat
do you want of the extra five cents?"
"I thought my dollie was old enough to have a 'lowauce,
and I want to give it to her."
A POSSIBLE EXPLANATION.
'•I KNOW how Columbus made that egg stand up," said
Wilbur. " He had it hatched first."
520
HARPERS
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, by HARPKR & BROTHERS. Alt Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 812.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY. MAY 21, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY,
TWO DOLLAH8 A YEAR.
I
HEROES OF AMERICA.
THE DEATH OF STOXEWALL JACKSON.
BY THE HONORABLE TIIEODOKE ROOSEVELT.
OKRIBLE though the civil war was,
heartrending though it was that
brother should tight against bro-
ther, there remains as au offset
the glory that has accrued to the
uation by the countless deeds of
heroism performed by both sides
in the struggle. The captains and
the armies who after long years
of dreary campaigning and bloody,
stubborn lighting brought the war
to n close have left us more than a reunited realm.
North and South, all Americans now have a common
fund of glorious memories. We are the richer for eaeh
grim campaign, for each hard-fought battle. \Ve arc' the
richer for valor displayed alike by those \\lio fought so
•valiantly for the. right, and by those who no less valiantly
fought for what they deemed the right. We have in us
nobler capacities for what is great and good because of the
infinite woe and suffering, and because of the splendid
ultimate triumph. We hold that it was vital to the wel-
fare not only of our people on this continent but of the
whole human race that the Union should be preserved and
slavery abolished; that one flag should tly from the Great
Lakes to the Rio Grande, that we should all be free in fact
as well as in name, and that the United States should
stand as one nation, the greatest nation on the earth ; but
we recognize gladly that South as well as North, when the
light was once on, the leaders of the armies, and the sol-
diers whom they led, displayed the same qualities of daring
and .steadfast courage, of disinterested loyalty and enthu-
siasm, and of high devotion to an ideal.
The greatest general of the South was Lee, and his
greatest lieutenant was Jackson. Both were Virginians,
and both were strongly opposed to disunion. Lee went
no far as to deny the right of secession; while Jackson in-
sisted that the South ought to try to get its rights inside
the Union, aud not outside; but when Virginia joined the
HARPEK'S ROUND TABLE
Smith. TII Confederacy, and the war had actually begnu,
linlh men cast their lot willi (lie South.
It. is ol'tm said lh:it thr civil war was in one sense a
repetition of I lie old struggle between the Puritan and
the Cav -alicr: lint J'nrilaii and Cavalier types were com-
mon to i he two armies. In dash and light-hearted daring
Cn-tei- ami Kearny stood as c >piciimis as Stuart and
Morgan: ami. nn the other hand, no Northern general ap-
proached the liiinndhcad tvpc.ihe t.vpe of the. stern re-
ligion- warriors who fought under Cromwell, so closely as
si i in'1 \\ a il Jacksou.
He was a man of intense religions conviction, who car-
ried into every thought and deed of his daily life the pre-
cepts and the convictions of the faith he cherished. He
•was a tender and loving hushaiid and father, kind-hearted
and gentle to all with whom lie was brought in contact.
Yet iu the times that tried men's souls he showed himself
to he not only a commander of genius, but a tighter of iron
•will and temper, who joyed in the battle, and always
showed at his best when the danger was greatest. The
vein of fanaticism that ran through his character helped
to render him a terrible opponent. He knew no such word
as falter, and when he had once put his hand to a piece of
•work he did it thoroughly and with all his heart. It was
quite in keeping with his character that this gentle, high-
minded, and religions man should early in the contest
have proposed to hoist the black-Hag, neither take nor give
quarter, and make the war • of extermination. No such
policy was practical in the nineteenth century and in the
American Republic; but it would have seemed quite nat-
ural and proper to Jackson's ancestors, the grim Scotch-
Irish who defended Londonderry against the forces of the
Stuart King, or to their forefathers, the Covenanters of
Scotland, aud the Puritans who in England rejoiced at the
beheading of King Charles the First.
In the first battle in which Jackson took part, the con-
fused struggle at Bull Run, he gained his name of Stone-
wall from the firmness with which he kept his men to their
work and repulsed the attack of the Union troops. From
that time until his death, less than two years afterwards,
hi.s career was one of brilliant and almost uninterrupted
success, whether serving with an independent command
in the Valley, or acting under Lee as his right arm in the
pitched battles with MeG'lellan, 1'ope. and Burnside. Few
generals as great as Lee have ever had as great a lieu-
tenant as Jackson. lie was a master of strategy and tac-
tics, fearless of responsibility, able to instil into his men
his own intense ardor of battle ; and so quirk iu his move-
ments, so ready to march as well as tight, that his troops
were known to the rest of the army a.- the " foot cavalry."
In the spring of 1863 Hooker had command of the Army
of the Potomac. Like McClellau,he was able to perfect
the discipliue of his forces aud to organize them, and as a
division commander he was better than McClellan ; but he
failed even more signally when given a great independent
command. He had under him 120,000 men when, toward
the end of April, he prepared to attack Lee's army, which
was bnt half as strong.
The Union army lay opposite Fredericksburg, looking at
the fortified heights where they had received so bloody a
repulse at the beginning of the winter. Hooker decided
to distract the attention of the Confederates by letting a
small portion of his force, under General Sedgwick, attack
Fredericksburg, while he himself took the bulk of the army
across the river to the right hand so as to crush Lee by an
attack on his flank. All went well at the beginning, and
on the 1st of May Hooker found himself at Chancel-
lorsville face to face with the bulk of Lee's forces; and
Sedgwick, crossiug the river aud charging with the utmost
determination, had driven out of Fredericksburg the Con-
federate division of Early ; but when Hooker found himself
face to face with Lee he hesitated, faltered instead of push-
ing on, and allowed the consummate general to whom he
was opposed to himself take the initiative.
Lee fully realized his danger, and saw that his only
chance was to attempt, first to beat back Hooker, and then
to turn and overwhelm Sedgwick, who was iu his rear, lie
consulted with Jacksou, and Jackson begged to be allowed
to make one of his favorite- Hank attacks upon the Union
army; attacks which could have beeu successfully deliv-
ered only by a skilled and resolute general, and by troops
equally able to inarch and to tight. Lee consented, and
Jackson at once made off. The country was thickly cov-
ered with a forest of rather small growth, for it was a wild
region, in which there was still plenty of game. Shielded
by the forest, Jackson marched his gray columns rapidly to
the left along the narrow country roads until he got square
on the flank of the Union right wing, which was held by
the Eleventh Corps, under Howard. The Union scouts got
track of the movement and reported it at headquarters; but
the Union generals thought the Confederates were retreat-
ing ; and when finally the scouts brought word to Howard
that he was menaced by a flank attack he paid no heed to
the information, and actually let his whole corps be sur-
prised in broad daylight. Yet all the while the battle was
going on elsewhere, and Berdan's sharpshooters had sur-
rounded and raptured a Georgia regiment, from which in-
formation was received which showed definitely that Jack-
son was not retreating, and must be preparing to strike a
heavy blow.
The Eleventh Corps had not the slightest idea that it
was about to be attacked. The men were not even in line.
Many of them had stacked their muskets and were loung-
ing about, some playing cards, others cooking supper, inter-
mingled with the pack-mules aud beef cattle. While they
were thus utterly unprepared Jackson's gray-clad veterans
pushed straight through the forest, and rushed fiercely to
the attack. The first notice the troops of the Eleventh
Corps received did not come from the pickets, but from the
deer, rabbits, aud foxes which, fleeing from their coverts at
the approach of the Confederates, suddenly came running
over and into the Union lines. In another minute the fright-
ened pickets came tumbling back. and right behind them
came the long lines of charging, yelling Confederates. With
one fierce rush Jackson's men swept over the Union lines,
and at a blow the. Eleventh Corps became a horde of panic-
stricken fugitives. Some of the regiments resisted for a few
moments, and then they too were carried away in the
flight.
For a time it seemed as if the whole army would be
swept oft'; but Hooker and his subordinates exerted ev-
ery effort to restore order. It was imperative to gain
time, so that the untouched portions of the army eojild
form across the line of the Confederate advance. Keeuan's
regiment of Pennsylvania cavalry, but four hundred sabres
strong, was accordingly sent full against the front of the
ten thousand victorious Confederates. Keenan himself fell
riddled by bayonets, and the charge was repulsed at once;
but a few priceless moments had been saved, and Pleason-
tou had been given time to post twenty-two guns, loaded
with double canister, where they would bear upon the
enemy. The Confederates advanced iu a dense mass, yell-
iug and cheering, and the discharge of the guns fairly
blew them back across the works they had just taken.
Again they charged, and again were driven back, and when
the battle once more began the Union re-euforcemeuts had
arrived.
It was about this time that Jackson himself was mortal-
ly wounded. He had been leading and urging on the ad-
vance of his men, cheering them -with voice and gesture,
his pale face flushed with joy and excitement, while from
time to time as he sat on his horse he took off his hat and,
looking upward, thanked Heaven for the victory it had
vouchsafed him. As darkness drew near he was in the
front, where friend and foe were mingled in almost inex-
tricable confusion. He and his staff were fired on at close
range by the Union troops, and, as they turued, were fired
on again, through a mistake, by the Confederates behind
them. Jackson fell, struck iu several places. He was put
in a litter and carried back; but he never lost conscious-
in -ss, and when one of his generals complained of the ter-
rific effect of I he Union cannonade he answered, " You must
hold your ground."
For several days he lingered, hearing how Lee beat
Hooker, iu detail, aud forced him back across the river.
Then the old Puritan died. At the end his mind wandered
522
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
and he thought he was again commanding in battle; and
his last words were, "Let us cross over the river and rest
iu the shade." Thus perished Stonewall Jackson, one of
the ablest of soldiers and one of the most upright of men,
in the last of his many triumphs.
THE SHIP WITHOUT A LIGHT.
BY EZRA HURLBURT STAFFORD.
" "VTTELL, my boy, what can I do for yon ?"
W It was in the Custom-house, and the Chief was
sitting at his desk opening a letter. A boy of perhaps six-
teen was standing awkwardly at the door. He was dressed
rather roughly, and the Customs Inspector thought it would
be a good idea to despatch the boy's business before he
read the letter, which he had by this time drawn from the
envelope.
"Well?" he repeated; but tbe boy still hesitated, and
glanced uneasily across the room towards a tall lady, who
was standing at the window with her back towards him.
"Anything very particular?" the officer went on, with a
touch of annoyance.
" I guess I'd like to speak to you alone."
The lady evidently heard him, for without speaking she
hurriedly drew her veil down over her face, and noiselessly
left the room by a door which he had not noticed before.
The boy caught a glimpse of her face as she turned, and
gave a little start, lie hardly knew why. It was a strange
face.
"Now, then, we are quite alone, what have you to say?
It's growing late."
"I wanted to speak to you, sir, about something I saw
last night out in Puget Sound. I thought you ought to be
told about it."
"Yes?"
"A boat, sir, that I think is smuggling opium iu from
the British Columbia coast."
" What is your name ?"
"Thomas Walton. I'm a fisherman."
"What makes you think the boat is smuggling opium?"
" Because she passed down the channel about two o'clock
last night and carried no light."
" What sort of a craft ?" asked the customs officer, with a
peculiar look.
"I should think she was a sailing sloop, sir — I couldn't
see noways plain."
" Whrn did you say?"
"Last night."
" Tell me all about it. Where do you live ?"
"At my father's ranch on Padilla Bay ; he's dead, and I
live with my mother and sister there. I fish during the
salmon season."
" Were you alone last night ?"
"No ; an Indian boy and myself have a boat between us ;
it was Jo saw her first."
"Well?"
"We were tacking across the channel, and it was very
dark. We had just come about, and suddenly I heard a
swish iu the water and felt something a yard or so off
sweeping by. I couldn't see what it was at first. It
seemed to pass iu the air. Jo heard it too, and we were
both pretty scared. A minute after it was light for an
instant and we got sight of her, a few yards to wind-
ward of us, bending under her sail. Jo pointed her out to
me, and thr next moment she seemed to disappear. We
got into port, this afternoon very late with our fish, and as
soon as I could I came to tell you."
" How many times have you seen this — this ship without
alight?"
"Just the once. We don't carry a light ourselves, or we
mightn't have seen her this time."
"Where was this?"
"To the south of Fidalgo Island."
"In the outer channel?"
"No, right below the slough, to the inner side of the
island and the main shore."
"Where did the boat seem to come from ?" the Inspector
asked, looking straight in tin- boy's lace.
"Well, we couldn't exactly be sure; but Jo seemed to
think that she had come from the slough — that was what
set us to thinking she must be a smuggler."
" Have yon told anybody about this?"
" No."
"Don't. How about this Indian boy, this Si wash ?"
"He hasn't said a word about it to any one. I made
him keep it quiet till I had told you."
" Sure no one else knows ?"
"No one; at least no one but the man in the outer office
here."
" What did yon tell him for ?" the Chief asked, with sud-
den vexation.
"He wouldn't let me in till I told him what I wanted;
he said yon were busy."
At this moment the door opened and a man in uniform
entered.
"Ah," he said, glancing at the boy, "he's told you, then.
Had we better put any confidence in the tale? I've been
speaking to the Captain of the Madrona about it. He is in
the outer office now. He seems to think there is something
in it."
"You may go now, "said the Chief, with a preoccupied
look, to the boy; "yon had better go right home, and next
time carry a light yourself. Good-evening."
" I am sorry you let the boy go," the deputy began, as the
door closed ; " we may need him for evidence. But here's
the Captain."
A tall gentleman, in the uniform of the United States
navy, entered the room at this moment. " I've been hav-
ing a word with your salmon-fisher," he said, "and I think
he's telling the truth. I'll catch them to-night when they're
getting back north, and give them more light in Puget
Sound than they will find altogether convenient. Where
was it he saw them now ?"
"I don't think the boy said," I he deputy answered. "Did
he tell you?" and he turned to his superior.
"Yes, he did,uow I recollect."
"Was it iu the main channel, or below the slough to the
inside of the island?"
" In the outer channel ; it was too large a boat to get
through the slough."
"Why, I thought lie said it was a sailing sloop," mused
the Captain, turning to the deputy.
" So did I."
"No; the boy told me distinctly, "the Chief replied," that
it was a much larger vessel, and that she passed him in the
outer channel ; though candidly, as to her carrying no light,
we must remember that boys sometimes have wonderful
imaginations."
"Then we'll keep the main channel;" and the Captain
left the room.
Down among the ships in the harbor a small boat was
moored. It had all the unmistakable signs of being a lish-
iug-boat, and a youth with a large round face of a heavy
brown mahoganj' color was sitting lazily at the edge of the
wharf, when Thomas Walton made his appearance. They
both got into the boat and pushed from the dock. It was
growing quite dusk. The harbor lights were already lit.
"You told them, Tom?"
"Yes."
"What did they think?"
"I hardly know. I wish now I hadu't gone near them
at all."
"Didn't they treat you white?"
" I don't know."
" You don't ?"
•' Well, they didn't seem to believe what I said, anyway.
And there's something else I don't like the looks of."
-What else?"
" Oh, nothing much. I think I was followed down to the
wharf. Look over there. Can you see? Is that a man IT
a \\ omaii in that boat there — the one that just came around
the stern of the Umatillaf"
"A man."
" No, the other. You can't see now. She got down low
523
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
the moment she saw me looking at her. Give her another
haul. There; that'll do." The last remark referred to the
sail which the Indian had hoistod as Tom was speaking.
"Why, Jo, where did that boat go?" he continued a mo-
ment afterward, looking back among the shipping.
The skiff was gone.
A couple of hours later they were cutting across Puget
Sound before a fresh wind, with the slap and drench of the
rising waves against their bows. The timbered uplands
were darkly visible a mile or so ahead, and Tom called out
to his companion in the bow:
"I say, Jo, I'm going to tack for the inner channel, and
wait in the slough. I have been thinking this thing out,
and I've got an idea in my head. I didn't tell the man at
the Custom-house about the landing at the rocks."
" You didn't?" came a sleepy voice from the darkness.
"No ; I was too confused at tirst, and afterwards I thought
I wouldn't, anyway."
A mile up this narrow channel, or slough, as shallow
places of the kind are called on the Pacific coast, there was
a small bay, almost hidden by the vast overhanging lir-
trees. On one side the shore was steep and rocky, but on
the other there was a small strip of very convenient beach,
where the boys had lauded three or four times to mend
their seine. The last time they had been there, Jo, in the
spirit of exploration, had pushed his way into the thick
woods, and a little way back had come upon a faint trail,
which, after making a detour, they found led up to the
steep rocks on the other .side of the little bay. They never
took the trouble to follow it inland.
"Place where the lumbermen land," Jo had remarked
upon this occasion, pointing to the trunk of a cedar near the
edge. There was a slightly worn place in the bark where
a ship's rope had been fastened.
Afterwards they had remembered that the island was
part of an Indian reservation, where no lumberman had any
right to touch the timber.
Until the incident of the night before they had, however,
given this no thought. But it had occurred to Tom then
that the mysterious trail in the uninhabited island might
possibly have some connection with the strange vessel.
"What are the customs officers going to do?" Jo asked.
" From the little I could hear I expect that the Madnnin
will keep watch for the smugglers in the open waters of
the Sound. The slough won't be guarded at all, in that
case, and I'm going to wait here till towards morning ; then,
if nothing passes, we can put into the bay, and see if there
are any signs of anybody having been on the trail the last
few hours."
"Not likely."
"Well, I'm not so sure of that — at all events we'll wait
here through the night, and see if anything does happen."
" But if it isn't an opium smuggler at all ; if it's a — a —
"A what ?" Tom asked shortly, familiar with the other's
superstitious nature.
"Have we the gun?" said Jo, changing the subject.
" I don't know."
"Yes, it's here," answered the Indian, rummaging for it
among a lot of odds and ends at the bow. "I wonder if
it's—'
"Don't bang it off into me to find out if it is."
Some hours after midnight the boat of the boys was
standing in for the little bay spoken of. They had waited
further up the slough, but Tom, who of the two was the
one who had kept awake, had heard nothing pass. It was
still quite dark.
Jo suddenly started.
"Say, did you see that? There — there it is again !"
The boys looked upwards, and a great white bar of light,
like a comet, swung across the sky above them. Then it,
swung slowly back again, faltering here and there, anil
appearing to rise and fall in crrtain places.
"It must be the Madronn'* .seaivh-light," said Tom, "and
they are right south of here."
They still had a full view of the open waters of Pnget
Sound.
" They seem to be coming this way," muttered the Indian ;
"there it goes again !"
As he spoke, an intensely bright cone of light leaped
forth suddenly into the darkness, and moved from place to
place along the high rocky shores.
"I'm glad it isn't as dark as it was last night," Jo said,
as they rounded the point, and glided onward noiselessly
upon the calm black water. "Do you see anything in the
bay?"
"No; drop the sail," Tom whispered, and he steertd the
boat slowly through the suspicious inlet. It was quite
dark in the shadow of the gigantic trees. As the bow
grated gently on the sand, Jo stepped out, followed at once
by his companion.
The next moment they were both appalled by an unex-
pected sound. It was the soft flap of a sail. As their eyes
grew more accustomed to the gloom of the thick forest
trees, they could see dimly a vessel of considerable size,
moored to the very rocks they had been thinking of. It
was the mysterious ship of the night before. It awed them
too, to see it lying so near to them with its white sails all
spread, and yet not a sign of life upon it. There was some-
thing weird about it all, and Tom could hardly prevent the
Si wash boy from making an immediate retreat.
They continued to listen for some moments, but all re-
mained still upon the vessel and upon the shore.
"I wonder is there any one aboard of her?" Jo said in
an undertone.
"Keep still!"
In spite of this warning, Tom was himself the first to
break the silence,
"Perhaps they've abandoned her."
"Then where can they be?"
" Do you want to know real bad ?" asked Tom.
" Yes!"
'• Well, you're good at following a night trail ; just you
follow that one back into the island, and you'll stand a fair
show of seeing where they are."
This was humor, and Jo grinned appreciatively.
" Where is the gnu T' Tom asked, presently.
" I have it ; what are we going to do ?"
" We're going to get that sloop out into the Sound, and
sail her up to the city dock at daybreak. I'll show those
customs inspectors — :
"They'll say you're the smuggler."
" Well, I'm going to risk it."
"Perhaps they're aboard now — asleep."
" Keep the gun ready, then!"
The boys were making their way towards the sloop along
the narrow strip of sand yet uncovered by the Hood tide,
but as they spoke, they stopped with one accord, for they
heard a sound from the trees near by.
" Cougar ?"
" No," whispered the Indian, " a man !"
"Stand very still, then, and watch what happens."
They could hear the branches being pushed aside softly,
and dull footfalls upon the forest moss.
Presently two dark shapes emerged upon the neighbor-
ing rocks. They were talking rapidly, but the boys could
not catch what they were saying.
The Mdi/i-iniii was moving to the south of the island, and
standing in towards the mouth of the slough. One of the
new-comers saw the search-light.
"They'll be upon us in half an hour," Tom could hear
him say ; " wo must steer around the point, and get up the
slough, where a vessel of such deep draught as theirs can-
not follow us. We'll be done for if we stay here."
The voice seemed familiar, but the boy was too excited
to give the fancy a second thought. What he saw, only
too plainly, was the easy way in which the supposed smug-
glers could make their escape, and, laying prudence aside,
he instantly called out in what he intended to be a very
commanding voice,
" Ahoy there ! you can't go aboard till you say who you
are. ami what you are doing here."
Hardly were the words spoken when Tom saw a bright
red flash, and was almost stunned by a loud report. He
heard the crash of a rifle bullet through the branches be-
hind him, and heard the echoes running along the opposite
shores, growing fainter and fainter in the distance.
524
"A MINUTE AFTER IT WAS LIGHT FOI! AN INSTANT AND WE GOT SIGHT OF HER."
Tbe shot was instantly returned, and there was a quick
sharp cry from the rocks. He turned and saw Jo at his
side, lowering the gun from his shoulder.
The next moment he heard a rustle iu the trees near
Lini, and hardly thinking of the peril iu which he was
throwing himself, he turned in swift pursuit. He struck
the trail almost at once, and still heard the same odd rustle
a short distance ahead of him.
He guided himself as well as he could in the darkness,
often stumbling over the bared roots, or grazing his head
against the low cedar branches. At times he stopped to
listen. It soon became evident that he was catching up.
The pale light of the early morning was beginning to
show dimly through the trees. The person ahead tripped
once or twice, and Tom knew that he was now almost at
hand. The unseen fugitive appeared to be moving with
great difficulty. A moment later the boy heard a heavy
fall a few yards iu front of him, and running hastily for-
ward was suddenly met by — a woman !
At this mishap, speaking fur the first time, she uttered a
harsh sound iu a deep voice which there was no mis-
taking.
It was a man then, and not a woman, after all, Tom
thought, and in his heart he blessed the smugglers awk-
ward disguise, which had allowed him to catch up.
But the smuggler, in the mean time, had drawn his re-
volver, and was on the point of aiming it mercilessly at
the unarmed lad, when the latter, watching his motions
with difficulty iu the uncertain light, snatched quickly at
his hand. The weapon was thus turned at random as
the trigger was pressed, and Tom, deafened by a sudden re-
port, drew back as the revolver flashed iu his face.
The disguised man fell to the ground. The boy watched
him for a moment, but he lay there quite still in the sha-
dow.
A feeling of fear swept through the boy's heart, and
he hurried back to the shore to call for help. The man
might not be dead. He was surprised to find what a long
distance it was back. He had not, in his first excitement,
thought he had gone more than a couple of hundred yards.
As he drew near to the water's edge he heard the sound
of a number of voices. The day was beginning to break.
Coming out on the shore, he saw the Alailruna lying at the
mouth of the slough with the thick smoke wreathing from
her funnel.
On the rocks near by several men in uniform were stand-
ing in a group about some object upon the ground. With
a. strange presentiment the boy made his way around the
shore and joined them. What he saw there was a man ly-
ing upon his face. He did not need to see the features to
recognize who it was.
It was the Chief of the Customs Department.
" Where have you been, Tom f"
The boy turned arouud at these words, and saw the Cap-
tain of the ^luilrona. The sight of his bluft' honest fan-
made the boy feel himself again ; and reminded him, too,
of his errand, which he had forgotten for the moment.
"I followed the man dressed up like a woman who was
with him, "Tom answered, excitedly ; "he's a mile back in
the woods now — I want to take a surgeon along, for I
think he's killed. I caught at his hand with it iu, and it
went oft' somehow — the revolver, I mean — and I think it
killed him — but I didn't mean to; I" couldn't see."
" I'll go back with you at once — who did you say it was ?"
The boy told what had happened as they hurried back
through the trees.
525
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
" That must be Tee Liug."
"Who .'"
'•Tci- Ling; you've beard of bim — the most notorious
opium smuggler on tbe coast, — I see it's a trail."
, j,all tin- way. So it's a Chi Hainan, then .'"
• •in' ronrse. There's not a more detestable scoundrel
among all the Cliinese in America. Ho lias a den some
place on the lii-iiisli Columbia roast, and probably -we'll
unearth his southern headquarters within a mile or so of
where we stand. He drosses as a woman simply as a dis-
guise. He has a hundred of them. You've had a terribly
narrow escape from him, my dear boy."
"I saw him at the Custom-house last night, when I was
reporting what 1 had seen."
"Where — in the office?"
" Yes."
" Who would have thought it ! We knew that the Chi-
nese gang were working into the hands of one of our men,
but we never thought it could be into his. There it is, a
man's sin will always find him out in the end! What's the
matter ?"
" I — I feel kind of sick like. I guess I'm sort of a cow-
ard, but the thought of him lying there dead that way! I
suppose a man like you get's used to it, but I — it makes
me—"
" You needn't be ashamed to own to a feeling of human-
ity, my boy ; no good man ever gets used to death or crime,
though good men sometimes have to see a deal of both."
" Here is the place ; but — oh ! —
"Yes, Tee Ling has wisely departed, I see. I expected
as much, for Tee Ling is very sagacious. It's just as well
we didn't bother about the ship's surgeon. Besides, he is
too good a Chinaman to take our medicine, much less tbe
dose of medicine the Uuited States has ready for him. He's
•wanted in 'Frisco, you know."
" Well, I'm mighty glad he's alive, all the same," Tom re-
marked, in a tone of great relief. " I was dreadfully afraid
he was dead, and I — I never killed anybody!"
" We will be sure to catch him during the day, neverthe-
less, for he can't get off the island, unless he disguises him-
self as a brown bear, and I'll tell the boys to shoot all the
brown bears."
Tom laughed at this mild drollery, and they returned to
the shore without seeing any trace of the Chinaman.
A lieutenant was standing on the deck of the smuggler's
sloop. " There's ten thousand dollars' worth of gum opium
aboard of her, Captain."
"Yes, and very likely double that amount more hidden
some place in the island. Torn, what do you set your for-
tune at f"
"I guess about a hundred dollars would be more than I
would ever know what to do with."
" What extravagant ideas you have ! I think we will be
able to suit you, though. Something like a hundred times
over at the very least."
"Why, how do you mean?"
" Mean ? Simply that this is to a great extent your
' find.' We heard your gun, and our suspicions were aroused
at once. If it hadn't been for your nerve in the first place
they would have got away. Are you willing to be fired at
twice for nothing?"
One of the Madrono's men came up before the boy could
answer, if, indeed, he had any answer to make, and whis-
pered a few words to the Captain.
"Alive, is he?" the Captain exclaimed. " Get a stretcher
and take him aboard at once or he may die yet of his wounds.
Perhaps that would be the best thing he could do; but that's
not for us to say."
To a boy of Tom's generous and manly nature it was a
great relief to see the unconscious Customs Inspector car-
ried aboard the Hadrona; but he said nothing.
The Captain was silent also for a long time. Presently
his attention was attracted by something unusual on the
beach, and, dismissing an unpleasant train of thought, he
broke out, " What have you there, men f '
Four of the Madrono's men were seen at this moment
coming around the point on the shore with a very unwill-
ing prisoner.
" There!" said the Captain. " I told you we would have
him before the day was out. The lost are found, and the
dead are alive, sure enough. Where did you get him?" he
hailed, in a louder voice.
" Hiding on the shore."
"I'm afraid Tee Liug is getting childish," the Captain
commented, in a voice aside to Tom, " if he is going to ven-
ture down to the water when things are as hot as they are
now."
The men, who seemed to be having a great deal of diffi-
culty, came nearer, and Tom called out in surprise,
" Why, it's Jo."
"Jot" echoed the Captain.
" Yes ; that's not Tee Ling ; it's Jo."
"Who's Jo?"
" Why, the Siwash Indian who fishes with me. Hello
there, Jo ! Where in the world have you been ?"
Jo's face was a pale fawn color with fear, but he did not
answer.
" Let him go, boys," the Captain said, smiling. " It's all
right. He's not the one we are after."
"It's all right, Jo," Tom repeated; but the latter, though
now at liberty, was still silent and very serious. There were
many cloudy thoughts shaping in bis bewildered mind. He
had expected to be sent to prison for being a smuggler, and
hanged for shooting a man. It was difficult for him to get
rid of these ideas on short notice.
Indeed, it is hardly probable that he ever clearly under-
stood, the strange turn which events took in the next few
hours.
At any rate he was not heard to utter a single word for
two whole days.
TURNING A TRIPLE SOMERSAULT.
" VVTHATEVER you do, don't join a circus," said John,
W the new stableman. He was sitting on top of a
feed barrel in the barn with a pipe in his mouth, and his
deliberate manner bore conviction that be knew what he
was talking about. The boys had always wondered where
John had learned so much about this big world and its
ways, and it was only a few days previous to the present
occasion that Joe had admitted having at one time in his
career travelled for a year with a circus. Then nothing
would do but that he should tell the boys all sorts of circus
stories. To-day the conversation had turned on triple
somersaults.
" That feat has been accomplished mighty few times,"
said John, dogmatically, " and I know all about it. I saw
John Worland do it in New Haven in 1884, and he told me
the whole history of the act, and of the many men who
have tried to do it. The first man to attempt to turn a
triple somersault was a performer in Van Amburgh's circus,
in Mobile in 1842. He broke his neck. W. J. Hobbes
made the attempt in London in 1845, and was instantly
killed. The next one was John Amoor. He had been suc-
cessfully turning a double, and was the original in accom-
plishing it over four horses. He tried to do a triple at the
Isle of Wight in 1859, turned twice, lauded on his forehead,
and broke his neck. Sam Reinhart, while travelling with
Cooper and Bailey's circus, became dissatisfied with the
double somersault feat, and was anxious to do a triple.
He did it at Toledo in 1870, making a high leap, turned
twice and a half, alighted on the broad of his back, and
was disabled for some time. Billy Button accomplished
the feat at Elkhorn in 1860, but he never made another at-
tempt. Bob Stickuey did it while practising in a gymna-
sium in New York, but he alighted on a blanket, and never
succeeded in landing on his feet. Frank Starks tried to
turn three times in Indianapolis, but he fell on bis head and
died soon afterwards. The only man, living or dead, that
ever accomplished the feat successfully, was John Worland,
the man I saw. He threw a triple somersault six times
from a spring-board. The first time he attempted it
was at St. Louis in 1874, with Wilson's circus. He made
three trials, twice over five horses, lauding on his back.
At the third attempt be landed on his feet.
"The next time he tried it was also at St. Louis in 1876.
526
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
He landed on a mattress in a sitting posture. He did it
again at Kan Claire, in lt-61, and at La Crosse a few days
later. On this occasion all the members of the company
made allidavits to th.- fact. The last time he accomplished
tin- feat was when I .saw him at Xcw Haven iu ISS4. It
was at tin- Foi-rpaugli show, and the Mayor of the city ami
many newspaper men were present. First a performer ran
down the board and turned a single somersault; then
another man followed and turned a double; after which
Worland rail down the board and threw a triple somer-
sault, landing on a bed on bis feet as straight as an arrow
It has seldom occurred that any man has done a triple
somersault before a circus audience after due announce-
ment, but there is no doubt about Worland's act. It was
duly announced by the ring-master, and hundreds of people
saw him do it. For years lie practised the double, and
never would turn a single, so that when he attempted a
triple he did not run as great a risk as others who attempt-
ed the feat. But, nevertheless, boys, don't join a circus,
and never try the triple."
BOYS AND GIRLS OF NEW YORK STREETS.*
A DAUGHTER OF THE TENEMENTS.
BY EDWARD W. TOWNSEND.
IN one of the Roosevelt Street buildings called " back
tenements," because they are built in the spaces which
were once the back yards of the buildings in front of them,
when those buildings, years ago, were occupied by single,
well-to-do, and sometimes fashionable, families, Gabriella
Moreno was born. Her parents were not the poorest, by
any means, of those who lived in that neighborhood, for her
father, Antonjo Moreno (he was called "Tony " by all his
English-speaking acquaintances) was the proprietor of a
fruit-stand, and did quite a prosperous business. In fact,
among the Italians of that neighborhood it was somewhat
a mark of rank to own a fruit-stand instead of a fruit
'•push-cart." Tony Moreno had been a push-cart fruit
peddler for years, but some time after his only child was
born he became the proprietor of a little stand near the
entrance of the Tivoli Theatre on the Bowery. Part of the
space his stand occupied was a broad entranceway which
had formerly been used as one of the entrances to the the-
atre, but which was now closed for that purpose. Tony
was one of the first Italians to settle in the neighborhood
of Cherry Hill, which is near Roosevelt Street, and his
knowledge of and influence over those of his countrymen
who followed him there made him useful to Mr. Keau, the
proprietor of the Tivoli, who was also iu the business of
politics.
That was the way Tony came to have the privilege of
running a fruit-stand in front of the Tivoli. His profits
were so great that he and his wife and Gabriella were able
to keep their one tenement room, and it was a large one,
all to themselves, without taking in two or three boarders,
as most of their neighbors did, to help pay the rent. This
made Tony one of the aristocrats of the neighborhood, and
when it became known that Gabriella had a cot to sleep on,
instead of sleeping on the floor, as the children of other
families did, the neighbors looked up to Tony more than
ever before as a man of high standing and solid posi-
tion.
Gabriella's little friends, however, were in the habit of
calling her "proud" and "stuck-up "on this account. When
she was six years old Gabriella was sent to Miss Barstow's
Mission School, where many other little Italian children
also went, to learn to speak and read and write in English.
Most of the children left the school when they were eight,
and very few remained there after they were nine years
old ; for at that age their parents thought them old euough
to help at home, to care for the younger children when
both parents were away at work, and even to learn to do
sewing for the big clothing factories. Gabriella would
have been taken away, too, had it not been for Miss Bar-
stow, who went to talk with Tony and his wife. She told
them that Gabriella was one of her best scholars, and it
would be to their interests, as well as their daughter's, in
let her remain at school until she was well enough edu-
* The previous articles published in this series are "A Street-Waif's
Luck," No. 792, " Danny Caliill, Newsboy," No. 803, " A Messenger-Boy's
Adventure," No. S09.
cated to do something better than sew on coarse clothing
for wages which would never support her decently. This
pleased Mrs. Moreno, who was ambitious for her pretty
child, but Tony grumbled a good deal.
Gabriella was old enough, he said, to help earn bread, as
the other children of her age did. Had not her father and
mother worked since they were six years old? he asked.
Then why should their child be kept in idleness only to
learn things out of books which were well euough for the
rich, but did the poor no good?
Miss Barstow was more interested iu Gabriella than in any
other child of the tenements she had ever known, for the girl
was really unusually bright and pretty, and she was de-
termined to keep her longer in the school. She knew that
Tony had his stand at the Tivoli by Mr. Kean's permission,
and to Mr. Keau she went for aid.
Miss Barstovv's fashionable friends would have been sur-
prised to learn how often she went to Mr. Kean for aid
and advice, and to know how often he gave his aid, and
how valuable his advice always was.
Mr. Kean smiled when Miss Barstow asked him if he
could not help her keep Tony's daughter in school, and said,
with rough politeuess,
" Yes, I guess so, miss."
What he did was simply to shortly order Tony to do just
what Miss Barstow wanted, if he knew what was good for
him ; and Tony obeyed without question, as did every one
else in that part of the city who received orders from Mr.
Kean.
That was the way Gabriella remained iu the school un-
til she was past twelve years old, and until the time her
mother, who helped Tony at the fruit-stand, was taken sick.
Then Gabriella took her mother's place, but she too be-
came ill, and Tony had to close his fruit-stand part of each
twenty-four hours, which caused that very penurious Ital-
ian great misery of mind, for his was what is known as an
"all-night "stand, and he bitterly lamented his loss of trade
during the hours of closing. Gabriella, under the careful
nursing of Miss Barstow, soon became well and strong
again ; but the mother did not, and that was the reason it
became necessary for the girl to take her place at the stand
part of the time, dividing with her mother the hours when
Tony went home to eat and sleep.
Miss Barstow knew that if she interfered further to keep
Gabriella oft' the street and at school she might, with Mr.
Kean's aid, succeed in doing so; but her knowledge of
tenement-house life made her realize that such action would
make the girl's home life unhappy. So she let her favorite
scholar go without protest, intending, however, to keep as
close a watch over her as she could, and to regain her for
her school later, if she found that the girl's mother became
strong enough not to need Gabriella's help.
Gabriella's " watches " — that is, the time she was on duty
at the fruit-stand — were always iu the day-time, and Miss
Barstow would stop there frequently to speak to her on
her way to the Mission House. She did this to keep track
527
HARPER'S BOUND TABLE
' WELL, JUST CHARGE IJIS ONE," HE SAID, SEIZING A BANAHA AND STARTING TO RUN.
of the givl, and to leave her a book now ami then. These
were the only happy moments in the poor girl's life. She
Lad learned to love Miss Barstow, and to care very much
for books and other things Miss Barstow had interested her
in. which now seemed far removed from her life, except
when they were recalled by these visits from her teacher.
Every day now she went to the fruit-staud on the Bowery
in the morning to relieve her father. There it was her
duty to keep the stacks and pyramids of fruit in order, to
dust them, to replace with fresh fruit from the boxes un-
derneath the stand the pieces which she sold, and to keep
a sharp look-out against the nimble hands of thievish
youngsters. Every piece of fruit was carefully counted by
Tony before lie went oft' the watch, and when he returned
Gabriella had to account for every sale and every missing
piece.
One day Gabriella stood by the side of the stand, think-
ing how much happier her life had been when she went
each day to the Mission School. She was wondering, at the
game time, where she could have ever before seen the
smartly dressed boy who stood in the doorway of the thea-
tre office smiling at her. Somehow he was associated in
her mind with Miss Barstow, yet where and when, if ever,
she had seen him before was as indistinct in her mind as
tin- memory of a dream. For several days she had seen
him standing there, and from the first she had the impres-
sion that she had seen him somewhere else. She could not
place liiin ; he was much better and more stylishly dressed
than any of the boys she had ever seen about her home or
the school. Me always had a friendly nod and smile for
her. and she nodded and smiled in return; and although
they had never spoken, she had never given up trying to
think where, if anywhere, sin- hail seen him besides there in
front of the theatre.
As he stood there this day, looking .somehow as if he
owned the Bowery, a rough young fellow loafed up to the
stand and asked, in an impudent manner.
" Say, sis, how much are, dese bananas ?"
"A cent each," answered Gabriella.
"Well, just charge disoiie/'he said, seizing a banana and
starling to run.
As Gabriella began to cry out for the thief to stop, the
smartly dressed lad in the dour\\ay flew out like a Skye
terrier after a rat.
He had headed oft
the loafer with
such surprising
quickness thattbe
latter was more
amazed than
frightened when
the boy demanded
of him to give
up the stolen
fruit. This de-
mand only made
the fellow laugh.
The laugh soon
came to an end,
though, because
Danny Cahill—
for that was the
name of the small-
er boy — had not
forgotten any of
the quick and
fierce methods he
had learned to use
in lighting lar-
ger boys when he
had been a street
arab. It was a
very short strug-
gle, and almost
before the fright-
ened Gabriella
knew what was
happening Danny
was standing before her smiling, and her tormentor was-
skulking away, well thrashed for his meanness.
Danny's victory had been complete ; he had not only
vanquished the enemy but recovered the stolen property ;
and as he put the banana carefully back on the stand he
said, good-naturedly,
"It's all right, little girl ; what are you crying for?"
Gabriella stopped crying, and answered, "Because if that
boy had got away with the banana, and I did not have a
penny for it, my father would have whipped me."
Then to the great astonishment of Danny, Gabriella took
a banana from the stand and offered it to him. Danny
laughed outright at this, and exclaimed:
" Den if you haven't a penny t' show for de banana, your
father will whip you just de same wedder de banana is
stolteu or you give it away to me. Won't he ?"
Gabriella laughed too, now, and said, "Yes, but I'm will-
ing to take a whipping for you, because you whipped that
boy for me,"
But Danny said he guessed he would rather pay for the
fruit, and they were laughing and chatting over the ad-
venture in the most friendly way when Miss Barstow came
up. They told her the story, and she seemed greatly pleased.
She told Gabriella that Danny was the boy who had helped
take care of her and her mother the first night they were
both sick with the fever.
"Then it was there I saw you before, ''Gabriella said to
Danny, with delight. " I was not sure whether I had really
seen you or just dreamed that I had."
"Well, yon were doing a heap of dreaming dat night,
sure," Danny answered.
"But you were a messenger - boy then," Miss Barstow
said to Danny. " How is it you happen to be here and not
in your uniform?"
"Oh, I'm Mr. Keau's office-boy now," answered Danny.
"I'm to be his clerk when I'm big enough."
This information seemed to give as much satisfaction to
Miss Barstow as it did to Danny.
"I like that, "Miss Barstow said, "for now Gabriella will
have some one to look out for her when she is on
watch."
" l>at's right; as long as I remember how t' fight she will.
Sure," Danny replied, eanieM l\ .
528
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
BY KIRK M U X R O E.
CHAPTEl; XXIII.
LAW IS THE GOLD DIGGINGS
THE latest coiner to Camp Forty Mile was not partic-
ularly anxious to attend the public meeting to which
he was invited by Mr. Platt Riley. Still he thought it bet-
ter to do so rather than run the risk of offending hi.s liu.st,
who was evidently a man of influence in the diggings. His
overnight reflections having convinced him that this camp
was not such a place as he had expected, and also that he
might find greater safety elsewhere, his lirst act in the
morning was to order his Indian drivers to harness the
dogs, and he prepared for a start within an hour.
Kuril! a, who was with them under instructions not to
lose sight of them, grinned when he heard this, for he had
picked up an inkling of what was going on, and felt pretty
certain that the order need not be obeyed.
When Mr. Riley's reluctant gnest entered the store of
the Yukon Trading Company, in which, on account of its
size, the meeting was to be held, In; fully intended to take
a back seat, and slip out as soon as he could do so un-
noticed. The place was so filled with miners, however, that
there were no back scats, and, to his surprise, the crowd
pressed aside as he and Mr. Riley filtered, so as to leave a
passage to the farther end of the room. A moment later,
without knowing just how it had been done, he found him-
self seated beside Jalap Coombs's friend, Skiff Bettens, who
obligingly made a place for him. He noticed with some
curiosity that twelve men were seated on benches directly
opposite to him, while all the rest of the crowd were stand-
ing. Between him and these men was an open space, at
the upper end of which were a table aud a chair raised on
a rude platform.
To this platform Mr. Platt Riley made his way, aud seat-
ing himself in the chair, rapped on the table for silence.
Then, rising, he said :
"Gentlemen of the jury and fellow-citizens, this court is
now open for business, and I as its Judge, elected by your
votes, am prepared to administer justice in accordance with
your laws, aud such verdicts as may be rendered by your
jury."
'• It is a court," thought Strciigel, with a shiver.
"The ease to be tried this morning," continued the Judge,
•• is one that touches the pocket, the life, and the honor of
every miner in the Yukon Valley ; for the prisoner at the
bar is indicted on three separate- counts as a thief, a mur-
derer, and an unmitigated scoundrel. He has come into
our camp under a false name and with a false story, after
having attempted the destruction of a steamer that is
bringing goods and machinery, of which we are greatly in
need.
"He is charged with robbing and leaving helpless in the
wilderness a man whom we all know and respect, aud also
with robbing and deserting while seriously ill his own
companion who was on his way to visit us in behalf of our
old-established trading company."
Strengel listened to these terrible words with an ever-
increasing paleness and visible agitation. Finally, clap-
ping a hand to his face as though seized with a sudden ill-
ness, he started to rise and leave the room.
"Sit down," ordered Skiff Bettens. in a low tone, at the
same time jerking him back to his seat. Then the man
knew that he was indeed a prisoner.
"To prove these serious charges," continued the Judge,
'•I am about to call several witnesses. At the same time
the prisoner will be given the privilege of cross-question-
ing them and of pleading in his own behalf. Mr. Philip
Ryder."
At this summons Phil advanced from the farther end of
the room, and the prisoner regarded him with undisguised
amazement.
After answering the usual questions regarding his per-
'THAT'S A LIE!" SHOUTED THE PRISONER, HOARSELY.
5-29
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
sonality and business. 1'lnl \vas asked if be kue\v the pris-
oncr.
•• ] do." lie- answered.
" Wliat is Ills name '"
•• I understand tliat. lie now rails himself P.radwick : but
:i te\\ -months ,-iu" In- wenl b\ ih.- name of Strangel."
••Tliat's a lie." shouted tin- prisoner, hoarsely.
•- Silen, -e!" eoniinanded the Judge. " Now, Mr. Ryder,
tell the . jury what you kno\\ concerning lln- accused from
the time of your lirst meeting \rith him up to the prrseni."
This Phil* did MS hrielly as possilde. and when lie had
tinishcd tlie prisoni'i- spianj; to his feet, his face black with
rage, and exclaimed: "Why should this fellow's story be
believed rather than mine.' Who knows anything about
him. or even who he is ? lie was picked up iu Bering Sea,
drifting about in a stolen canoe. At St. Michaels be was
known as a tliicf and a brawler. 1 happen to know that
be has been locked up in a Victoria, police station, and 1
demand that his evidence be thrown out."
"That will do, sir," said the Judge. " I happen to know
this young man and his family so well that I am willing to
vouch for him if necessary. 1 >o you wish to question him '.
Xo. Then we will proceed. Mr. Serge Belcofsky."
Serge, of course, identified the prisoner as Strengel, and
corroborated Phil's story in every detail.
•• This ends the testimony on the first charge," announced
the Judge, when Serge had finished aud the prisoner sul-
lenly declined to question him. "In proof of the second
charge, that of robbery and desertion, I call as a witness
Mr. Jalap Coombs."
As the ex-mate of the fieameir advanced to the stand the
prisoner stared at him as though he were a ghost, nor could
he imagine by what miracle this witness had reached
Forty Mile in time to appear against him.
Jalap Coombs told his story in his own picturesque lan-
guage, but in a perfectly straightforward manner, and
without the slightest hesitation.
When he finished, the Judge questioned him very closely
as to the amount of money given him by Mr. John Ryder,
and the prices paid for various articles of his outfit at St.
Michaels.
As a defense against this charge the prisoner claimed
that Jalap Coombs had not been deserted by Simon Gol-
dollar and himself, but had voluntarily turned back, aud
that the dogs they had left with him had run away to
follow tbem much against their wishes. He also stated
that they bad taken the dogs and sledge back to the place
where they last, saw Jalap Coombs, but that they could not
find him.
" They were uot bis dogs, anyway. Judge," he continued,
"nor did he furnish any of our outfit, except a few pro-
\ isioiis, most of which he traded to the Indians on bis own
account. This man Coombs was a sailor, supposed to be a
deserter from some ship, and was loafing around St. Mich-
aels half starved when we picked him up. He claimed
to have some friends on the river who would help him,
so we brought him along out of charity."
"May I toot a horn, Judge?" asked Mr. Skiff Bettens,
rising as the prisoner concluded bis remarks.
" Certainly you may, Marshal."
"Waal, I only wanted to say that I've kuowed Mr. Jalap
Coombs off and on for a good many years, and iu all that
time I've never kuowed him to tell a lie nor yet do a mean
thing. Moreover I'm willing to stake my life on his honesty
:i'_;iii that of any living man, for a better sailor, a squarer
man. and a truer friend never trod a deck."
This sincere tribute so affected the simple-hearted sailor-
man that he could only stare open-mouthed at the speaker
as though he were talking in some mysterious language,
i hough in after-years he often referred to this as the proud-
est moment of his life. fin- remainder of the audience
Creeled the Marshal's little speech with an outburst of ap-
plause which the Judge was finally obliged to check.
"Letting charge number two rest with the testimony
taken." said the judge, when quiet was restored, " we will
take up charge number three, which is the most serious of
all. We have already learned that the accused, under the
uame of Strengel, passed old Fort Adams about a mouth
.-mo. bound for this place in company with a man named
(Joldollar. who appears to be a pretty tough character him-
self, iliouu'li that of course has nothing to do with this case.
The accused at that time had little ,ir nothing of his own,
eilher in the way of money or outfit, while Goldolhir ap-
pears to have been well fixed \\ith both. Now this man
tarns up in this place alone under the, name of Uradwick.
telliii", a story about having come up the. Porcupine. 1 hat
lie has since admit ted to he false, and ill possession of the
outfit formerly owned by Mr. Coombs and Simon Goldollar.
'(II course, under the circumstances, the question naturally
to be asked is what has become of Goldollar .'"
"He got sick of the trip and turned back from Yukon,"
explained the- prisoner, sulkily.
•• Yes. we've heard be took sick," replied the Judge;
" but, whether be turned back, or was left to die in an Ind-
ian rancheria is another question. Mr. Coombs, will you
please take Hie stand again ?"
This time Jalap Coombs testified that he had carefully
examined the outfit brought into camp the. night before by
the prisoner, and found it to contain the same number of
sledges, i he same number of dogs, and the identical articles,
with the exception of a certain quantity of provisions that
bad composed it at old Fort Adams.
"We will now call on one other witness," announced the
.Indee.aiid the prisoner started as though he expected to
see Simon Goldollar himself appear on the stand. What
he did see was one of his native drivers from Fort Yukon,
with Kurilla to act, as interpreter.
"Do you admit Injun testimony in this court?" he asked.
" Certainly we do," replied the Judge.
"If I'd known that," he muttered, "I'd have bought, a
dozen or so to testify OH my side."
The Indian's testimony was to the effect that this white
man had left another white man iu a. native but at, Fort
Yukon so sick that all the Indians thought he would die.
"Of course I can't buck agin Injun testimony," growled
the prisoner; "but I say it's a lie, all the same, and don't
prove nothing."
"There is one thing that we must not neglect," said the
Judge. " Marshal, you may search the prisoner."
The latter struggled furiously, but was overpowered and
held by strong hands while the Marshal searched his pock-
ets. From these were produced a number of articles, in-
cluding a wallet, which the. Judge opened, spreading its
contents on the table before him.
"Do you recognize anything here?" be asked of Jalap
Coombs.
"I can identify this as having been iu Goldollar's pos-
session," answered the mate, picking up one of the articles
that had dropped from the wallet, and holding it so that all
might see.
Both Phil and Serge uttered exclamations of amazement,
for the object thus exhibited was nothing more nor less
than the mysteriously carved aud almost forgotten fur-
seal's tooth that bad exerted so great an influence upon their
fortuues.
CHAPTER XXIV.
REAPPEARANCE OF THE FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH.
" WHAT do you know about this thing ?" asked the Judge
of Jalap Coombs, taking the fur-seal's tooth from him aud
examining it curiously.
" I know that there were an old Eskimo at St. Michaels
what were shipped by Goldollar to go with us to Nulato as
dog-driver. He wore this bit of ivory hung about bis neck,
aud seemed to set a heap by it. One time when be were,
lookiug at it I heerd Goldollar say that by rights it belong-
ed to him, seeing as he got it from some uatyve. and it were
afterwards stole from him. He didn't say nothing to the
Husky about it, but when we got to Nulato he give him so
much liquor that in the morning the old chap couldn't be
woke up. Goldollar fooled round him a while, and then
saying he'd have to give up the job of waking him, left
him, and ordered the teams to pull out. I afterwards seen
Goldollar take that very identical tooth outeu his pocket
several times aud look at it like it were a diamond or some
sich, aud heerd him tell Streugel that any man as owued
530
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
it would surely have luck. It didn't seem t.i> bring him
none, though. Leastways no good luck, fur he hain't had
nothing but bad luck seuce." •
''Was it your impression that you could win good luck
by stealing this tooth ?" inquired the Judge of Strengel.
"I didn't steal it," answered the prisoner, sullenly.
"How did you get it, then .'"
"Goldollar give it to me."
" Where did you leave Goldollar ?"
"At Fort Yukon."
"Was he in good health when you last saw him?"
" I refuse to answer any more questions," replied the pris-
oner, realizing how deeply he was committing himself.
"Very well," said the Judge. "I think you have al-
ready told enough to give us a pretty fair idea of the par-
ticular kind of a scoundrel you are. So, if you have nothing
more to say, I declare this case closed and in the hands of
the jury. Gentlemen, the court awaits your verdict."
As there was no room to which the jury could retire they
put their heads together and consulted in whispers, during
which time Phil told the Judge what he knew about the
fur-seal's tooth, together with the legend of good and bad
luck supposed to accompany its possession. The specta-
tors of the trial buzzed like a swarm of angry hornets.
In a few minutes the jury ended their conference and re-
sumed their places. Then, as order was restored, the fore-
man, standing np, announced that they were unanimous in
finding the prisoner guilty on all three of the charges pre-
ferred, against him, and recommended that he be so pun-
ished as to afford a warning to others of his kind who
might be contemplating a visit to the Yukon diggings.
" Hang him !" cried some one in the crowd.
" Shoot him !'' shouted another.
"Drive him out of camp, and set him adrift like he done
to Jalap Coombs," suggested a third.
" Silence!" roared Judge Platt Ri ley, standing in his
place and gazing sternly about him. " You forget, gentle-
men, that this is a court of law, and though, maybe, it isn't
run with all the frills of some, it's bouud to be respected.
Likewise, it proposes to pronounce its own decisions. In
regard to the prisoner now awaiting sentence, lie lias been
proved by the testimony of reputable witnesses, and by his
own admissions, to be a liar, a traitor, a dog-stealer, \\ hirh
in this country is the same as a boss-thief in the States,
find a robber of his travelling companion under circum-
stances that make him at the same time come pretty near
to being a murderer. For snch as he hanging would be
none too severe. But we have never yet hanged a man in
Forty Mile, and we don't want to begin, if we can help it.
The prisoner has expressed a desire to learn something of
our methods of working these diggings, and we promised to
teach him. He has also remarked that moss-stripping was
a job well suited to convicts. So be it. Prisoner at the
bar, stand up and receive your sentence."
When the wretched man, who had fancied himself in a
country where he could commit any crime without fear of
punishment, had been assisted to his feet by Marshal Bet-
tens and a volunteer deputy, the Judge said:
"By a fair trial, according to Yukon law, you are con-
victed of crimes snch as this community does not allow to
go unpunished. On account of them yon are hereby sen-
tenced to strip moss fiom the several claims of this eamp
during every working hour of every working day from
now until such time as the first steamer reaches here from
the lower river and is ready to return. Then you will be
allowed to work your way on her to St. Michaels, where
may the Agent have mercy upon you.
" In the mean time, when not at work, you will be closely
confined in the camp lock-up, under guard of the Marshal,
who shall be entitled to your services for two days in every
week for his trouble. On other days he will hire you out
to any miner who has moss to be stripped, and who will pay
for your keep during such time as you may work for him."
This unique but just sentence was greeted with a mur-
mur of approval from the spectators; but this was quickly
silenced by a frown from the Judge, who continued:
" All the property that you brought into this camp, includ-
ing money and outfit, excepting your personal clothing, is
hereby confiscated, to be disposed of as follows : One team
of dogs, one sledge, and half the cash found in your pos-
session shall be restored to Mr. Jalap Coombs, from whom
yon helped to steal them. The remainder of the money, aft-
er the Indian drivers who came with you have been paid.
and one dog team shall be devoted to the relief of Simon
(icddollar, who, though he seems to be a pretty bad lot, is
still a white man, and so must not be allowed to perish it
it can be helped. The third dog team shall become the.
property of Marshal Bettens in place of a fee for his ser-
vices. The remainder of the property, provisions, and so
forth shall be devoted to the support of the prisoner dur-
ing such times as he is working for the Marshal. Mr. Bet-
teus will now remove his prisoner, and I hereby declare
this court adjourned." This ended Mr. Strengel's prospects
in Forty Mile, and when, some mouths later, a boat ar-
rived from the lower river, he, thankfully departed from
Camp Forty Mile mentally vowing never to return.
After consulting with Phil, Serge, and Jalap Coombs, Mr.
PI attEiley, who objected to being called "Judge "outside of
court, decided to entrust Simon Goldollar's rescue from the
Indian village in which he had been left to Kurilla and
Chitsah, who were persuaded by a liberal payment to re-
turn home that way. Another Indian was hired to accom-
pany them as far as Fort Yukon, and bring back word to
Forty Mile of their success.
Phil wrote and sent him a letter, in which he apologized
for having accused him of stealing his money or the fur-
seal's tooth, Jalap Coombs having told him the facts con-
cerning these things, and hoped he would return to St.
Michaels in safety. Long afterwards he learned that Simon
Goldollar did make his way down the river, aided by Ku-
rilla and Chitsah, and was sent on by Gerald Hamer from
Anvik to St. Michaels. There he was discharged from the
company's employ on account of the failure of his expedi-
tion, and finally left Alaska in the same ship that bore ex-
convict Strengel from its shores. An amusing feature of it
all was that both these rascals attributed the ill success of
their undertakings to the unlucky influence of the fur-
seal's tooth.
This industrious bit of ivory which exhibited such a
fondness for interfering with the affairs of men and boys,
as well as such activity in rapid travel and change of owner-
ship reposed for several days in Mr. Platt Riley's vest pocket,
where it had been unconsciously thrust and forgotten.
Filially, tired of being thus neglected it worked a hole
through the pocket and fell to the floor. From there it was
snapped up by Mr. Riley's favorite dog, who lay at his feet,
and doubtless imagined it to be a choice morsel provided
for him by his indulgent master. A moment later the Judge
was aroused from a reverie by the frantic struggles of his
dog, who seemed on the point of strangulation. When he
succeeded, by prompt effort, in removing the obstruction
from the animal's throat, and, with a feeling of superstitions
amazement, discovered its nature, he started at once for tin-
store of the Yukon Trading Company, determined to be rid
of the uncanny object as quickly as possible.
It so happened that none of the three occupants of the
premises was at home, nor were they to be seen in any di-
rection. They had been preparing for departure, and many
articles ready for packing ou the sledges lay scattered
about the room. Among these was a fur sleeping-bag, on
which Mr. Riley's eye no sooner rested than he thrust tin-
magic tooth into it, and shook it to the very bottom.
"There!" he exclaimed, •• they are sure to take it with
them : one of them will find it sooner or later, and maybe it
will bring him good luck. At any rate I hope it will."
So on the morning of the 5th of February, although the
thermometer registered 48° below zero, the little party set
forth from Forty Mile with three sledges and seventeen
dogs. Above the first sledge fluttered a small flag on which
appeared the, magic letters " U.S. M.," signifying that 1'liil
had undertaken to deliver a large packet of letters, the
first mail ever sent, out from Forty Mile in winter.
The entire population of the camp was assembled to see
them off; and amid a round of hearty cheers the sledges
dashed away up the Yukon.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
531
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
STORIES OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.
W A S H I N G T 0 N I R V I N G.
BY HENRIETTA CHRISTIAN WRIGHT.
" T EFT his lodging some time ago, and has not been heard of
Lj since — a small elderly gentleman, dressed in an old black
eoat and cocked hat, by the name of Knickerbocker. . . . Any in-
formation concerning him will be thankfully received."
Such was the curious advertisement that appeared in the
Eri'iiiinj I'oxt under the date, of October 26, 1809, attracting
the attention of all New York. People read it as they sat
at supper, talked of it afterward around their wood tires,
and thought of it again and again before they fell asleep at
night. And yet not a soul knew the missing old gentle-
man, or had ever heard of him before. Still, he was no
stranger to them, for he was a Knickerbocker, and every
one was interfiled i" the Knickerbockers, and every one
felt al st as if a grandfather or great-grandfather had
suddenly come back to life, and disappeared again still
more suddenly, without a word of explanation.
For some1 time nothing more was heard of Diedrich
Knickerbocker, and then another advertisement appeared
in the Post, saying he had been seen twice on the road to
Albany. Some time again elapsed, and finally the landlord
of the inn at which he had been reported to have stopped
gave up hope of ever seeing his guest again, and declared
that lie should sell the manuscript of a book that Mr.
Knickerbocker had left behind, and take the proceeds in
payment of his bill. People were really excited about the
fate of the old gentleman, and one of the city officials was
upon the point of offering a reward for his discovery, \\ In- n
a curious thing happened. It was found that there was no
old gentleman by the name of Knickerbocker who had
wandered away from his lodging ; that there was no inn at
which he had lived, and no manuscript he had left behind,
and that, in fact, Mr. Knickerbocker was simply the hero of
a book of which the author took this clever means of ad-
vertising. The book claimed to be the true history of the
IRVING LISTENING TO THE OLD TALES OF THE MOORS.
532
discovery and settlement of New York, and began with an
account of the creation of the world, passing on to the man-
ners, customs, and historical achievements of the old Hol-
landers who settled Manhattan Island. Here we read of
the golden reign of the first Dutch Governor, Wouter Van
TwilTei-, who was exactly five feet six inches in height and
six feet five inches in circumference, and who ate four
hours a day, smoked eight, and slept twelve, and so admin-
istered the affairs of the colony that it was a marvel of
prosperity. Next we hear of Governor Keift, of lofty de-
scent, since his father was an inspector of windmills, how
his nose turned up and his mouth turned down, how his
legs were the size of spindles, and how he grew tougher
and tougher with age, so that before his death he looked a
veritable mummy. And then we see'the redoubtable Peter
Stuy vesaiit stumping around on his wooden leg, which was
adorned with silver reliefs, furious with rage, menacing the
British Meet which has come to take possession of the town,
threatening vengeance dire
upon the English King, and
still cherishing his wrath
with fiery bravery when I lie
enemy finally occupy the old
Dutch town and proceed to
transform it into an Eng-
lish city.
The book was read with
ama/ement, admiration, or
intiTcst, as the ease might
be. Some said it appealed
too light and amusing for
real history; others claimed
that it held stories of wis-
dom that only the wise
could understand; others
still complained that the
author was no doubt making
fun of their respectable an-
cestors, and had written the
book merely to hold them up
to ridicule. Only a few saw
that it was the brightest,
cleverest piece of humor
that had yet appeared in
America, and that its writer
had probably a career of fame before him. The au-
thor was Washington Irving, then a young man in his
twenty-seventh year, and already known as the writer of
some clever newspaper letters, and of a series of humorous
essays published in a semimonthly periodical called .S'«7-
magundi.
Irving was born in New York ou the 3d of April, 1783,
and was named aft.T George Washington. New York was
then a small town, beyond the limits of
nhich were orchards, farms, country-
house's, and the high-road leading to Al-
bany, along which the stage-coach passed
at regular times. There were no rail-
roads, and Irving was fourteen years old
before the first steamboat puffed its way
up the Hudson River frightening the
country people into the belief that it
was an evil monster come to devour
them. All travelling was done by means
of sailing vessels, stage-coaches, or pri-
vate conveyances; all letters were car-
ried by the stage-coach, and every one
cost the sender or receiver twenty-five
cents for postage. The telegraph was
undreamed of, and if any one had hinted
the possibility of talking to some one
else a thousand miles away over a tele-
phone-wire, he would have been consid-
ered a lunatic or, possibly, a witch. In
fact, New York was a quiet, unpretentious
little town whose inhabitants were still
divided into English or Dutch fami-
lies, according to their descent, and in
IRVING AS A STAR.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
•whose households were found the cus-
toms of England and Holland in full
force. living's father was a Scotch
Presbyterian, who considered life a dis-
cipline, who thought all amusement a
waste of precious time, and who made
the children devote one out of the two
half- weekly holidays to the study of
the Catechism.
Forbidden to attend the theatre, Ir-
ving would risk his neck nightly by
climbing out of his window to visit the
play for an hour or so, and then rush
home in terror lest his absence had been
noted and his future fun imperilled,
and many a night when sent early to
bed he would steal away across the
adjacent roofs to send a handful of
stouts clattering down the wide okT-
fashioued chimney of some innocent
neighbor, who would start from his
dreams to imagine robbers, spooks, or
other unpleasant visitors in his bed-
chamber. He was not particularly bril-
liant in his studies, but he distinguished
himself as an actor in the tragedies
which the boys gave in the school-room ;
at ton years of age he was the star of the company, who
did not even Idse respect, for him when once, being called
suddenly upon the stage through a mistake, he appeared
with his mouth full of honey-cake, which he was obliged
to swallow painfully, while the audience roared at the situ-
ation. Afterward when he rushed around the stage flour-
ishing a wooden sabre he was not a tragedian to be trilled
with. His favorite books were Sobinson Cruxm-, tin- Arabian
Nights, Gulliver' a Trari-lx, and all stories of adventure and
travel. The world beyond the sea always seemed a fairy-
land to him; a little print of London Bridge and another
of Kensington Gardens that huug in his bedroom stirred
his heart wistfully; and he fairly envied the odd-looking
old gentlemen and ladies who appeared to be loitering
around the arches of St. John's Gate, as shown in a cut on
the cover of an old magazine. Later on his imagination
was also kindled by short excursions to the then wild
regions of the Hudson and Mohawk valleys. Years after-
ward we find the remembrance of these days gracing with
loving touch the pages of some of his choicest work.
At seventeen Irving left school and began to study for
the bar. But his health, which had always been delicate,
made it necessary for him to take a long rest from study.
IN THE SCOTCH HILLS WITH SCOTT.
SDNNYSIDE.
and he accordingly left America for two years of travel
abroad. It was after his return home that he brought nut
his Knickerbocker history, a work which made him so fa-
mous that when he returned to England some time after-
wards he found himself very well known in the best liter-
ary circles. The results of this second visit are fouud in
the volumes comprising the Tales of a Traveller; Bracebridge
Hull; Geoffrey Crayon'* fiki'ldi-HooJi, and other miscellany,
in which occur charming descriptions of English country
life, delightful ghost stories, the famous description of an
English Christmas, ami the immortal legend of Sip I'au
ll'iiikh: One of Irving's most interesting chapters in this
collection is that of his visit to the haunts of Kobiu Hood,
whose exploits had so fascinated him as a boy that he spent
his entire holiday money in obtaining a copy of his adven-
tures. Abbotsford is an account of a visit that Irving paid
to Sir Walter Scott. It is a charming revelation of the
social side of Scott's character, who welcomed Irving as a
younger brother in art, became his guide in his visits to
Yarrow aud Jlelrose Abbey, and took long rambling walks
with him all around the country made so famous by the
great novelist. Irving recalled as among the most delight-
ful hours of his life those walks over the Scottish hills with
Scott, who was described by the peasantry
as having " an awi'u' knowledge of history,"
and whose talk was full of the folklore, poe-
try, aud superstitions that made up the in-
terest of the place.
In the evening they sat in the drawing-
room, while Scott, with his great houud,
Maida, at his feet, read to him a scrap of
old poetry, or a chapter from King- Arthur,
or told .some delightful bit of peasant fairy-
lore like that of the black cat which, on
hearing one shepherd tell another of having
seen a number of cats dressed in mourning
following a colh'n, sprang up the chimney
in haste exclaiming, "Then I am king of
the cats!" and vanished to take possession
of his vacant kingdom. From this time
on Irviug's life was one of constant literary
labor for many years, all of which were
spent abroad. His works on the history of
.Spain, the companions of I'tiltim/m* and the
Alhumbra, were compiled during his resi-
dence in Spaiu, where he had access to the
national archives, and where he became as
familiar with the life of the people as it
was possible forastrauger to become. Af-
ter seventeen years' absence Irving return-
ed to America, where he was welcomed as
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
one wliu \\irn for his country great honors. He was the
first writer to make American literature respected abroad,
and his return was made the occasion of numerous fetes
given in his honor in New York and other cities.
He now bnilt Snnnv side on the Hudson, the home that
be loved so dearlv. and which will ever be famous as the
abode of America's Mr.-. I great, writer.
His principal works following the Spanish histories were
Antona, the history of the fur-trading company in Oregon,
founded li.v the head of the Astor family: faptain />'»««••-
rilli. the adventures of a hunter in the far West: the Life
of Goldsmith, and the lives of Mnliiiiitiiml iiml hi* .s'l/rcmsoi1*.
He returned to Spain as ambassador in 1842, and remained
four years.
In the LCI/I iidi uf tin l'iiiii/iii'»t a!' s/niin Irving tells the
story of the conquest of Spain liy the Moors, as related in
the old Spanish and Moorish chronicles. The whole story
is a brilliant, living picture of that romantic age. The
Spanish king goes lo battle wearing robes of gold brocade,
.sandals embroidered with gold and diamonds, and a crown
studded with the costliest jewels of Spain. He rides in a
chariot of ivory, and a thousand cavaliers knighted by his
own hand surround him, while tens of thousands of his brave
soldiers follow him, guarding the sacred banners emblazoned
with the cross. The Moorish vanguard, riding the famous
horses of Arabia, advance to the sound of trumpet and cym-
bal, their gay robes and snowy turbans, and their arms of
burnished gold and steel glittering in the sunshine which
reflects in every direction the sacred crescent, the symbol
of their faith. The surroundings are equally picturesque
and romantic. The famous plain of Granada, adorned with
groves and gardens and winding streams, and guarded by
the famous Mountains of the Sun and Air, forms the fore-
ground to the picture, while in the distance we see the
gloomy mountain passes, the fortified rocks and castles,
and the great walled cities, through which the Moors
passed, always victorious, and never pausing until their
banners floated from every dill' and tower.
Irving remained some, months in the Alhambra, living
over again the scenes of Moorish story, and so catching the
spirit of the lost, grandeur of the old palace that his de-
scriptions read like a bit of genuine Arabian chronicle,
which had been kept safe until then in the grim guardian-
ship of the past.
The chapters of the .tllntwhrii are also full of delightful
legends, the fairy tales which time had woven around the
beautiful ruin, and which the custodians of the place re-
lated gravely to Irving as genuine history. It calls up a
pleasant picture to think of Irving sitting in the stately
hall or on his balcony, listening to one of these old tales
from the lips of his tattered but devoted domestic while
the twilight was gathering, and the nightingale sing-
ing in the groves and gardens beneath. He himself said
that it was the realization of a daydream which he had
cherished since the time when, in earliest boyhood on the
bunks of the Hudson, he had pored over the story of the
Granada.
In his work, Tin' ( 'nin/in-xl of Granada, Irving relates the
story of the retaking of Granada by Ferdinand and Isa-
bella. So sympathetically and graphically does Irving de-
scribe the fortunes of this war that he must ever remain
the historian of the Moors of Spain, whose spirit seemed to
inspire the beautiful words in which he celebrated their
conquests, their achievements, and their defeats.
Iti the Chronicle »/ H'n/1'i i-t's Iloost Irving follows in ima-
gination old Diedrich Knickerbocker into the famous le-
gion of Sleepy Hollow, where much of the material for the
celebrated Kniekerl ker History was said to have been
collected. This chronicle, it was claimed, was written upon
the identical old Dutch writing-desk that Diedrich used,
the elbow chair was the same that he sat in, the clock was
t he very one he consulted so often during his long hours of
composition. In these, pages old Diedrich walks as a real
person, and Irving follows him with faithful step through
the region that, he loved so fondly all his life.
Everything here is dwelt upon with lingering touch. The
brooks and streams, the meadows and cornfields, the or-
chards and the gardens, and the groves of beech and chest-
nut have their tribute from the pen of one who found
their charms ever fresh, who sought in them rest, and hap-
piness, and who caine back to them lovingly to spend the
last days of his life in their familiar companionship.
Irving died in 185y, and was buried at Snnnyside; in sight
of the Hudson whose legends he had immortalized, and
whose beauty never ceased to charm him from the moment
it first captivated his heart in his boyhood days.
Tlra Dtparti
• pleased to 1
rest of Amateu
subject so far :
PhotoErritphers, nml the Editor will
, possible. Correspondents stuuld
ril
J_
address Editor Citniera Club Departmt
PAPERS FOR BEGINNERS, NO. 1.
THE ACTION OF LIGHT ON THE SENSITIVE PLATE.
process of making photographs has been made so
simple by modern science that the most of us make
our picture by intuition — that sort of sixth sense by which
we know just how long to expose a plate, when to take it
from the developer, when it is fixed sufficiently, etc., etc-.
though we can give no scientific explanation of our meth-
ods, and know little or nothing how the chemical changes
are produced which result in the finished photograph.
It is not at all necessary to know the process of making
a sensitive plate, but it is quite necessary to know some-
thing of the action of light on the plate in order to make a
good picture. A photographic negative is formed by the
chemical action of light admitted through a lens or even
a tiny hole, into an otherwise light tight box, a,nd striking
a glass plaf e. lilm, paper, or celluloid, coated with sensitive
silver salts. The part of the light that a Beets this coating
is the blue rays.
The rays of light may he separated by the prism into a
baud of five different colors — red, yellow, green, blue, and
violet. Three of these colors — the red, yellow, ami bine —
are called the primary colors, for any color or shade desired
may be obtained by blending and mixing them in different,
proportions. These three primary colors have each a sepa-
rate power. The red raysvpossess heating power, the yellow
rays possess illuminating power, and the blue rays chemical
power. The blue rays are called actinic, and when we speak
of actinic light we mean the blue rays which produce the
chemical change in the sensitive plate. The effect of these
actinic rays may be seen in other things besides the sensi-
ti ve plates. The fading of carpets, draperies, and clothing,
the tanning or browning of the skin, etc., are due to their
action.
After the sensitive plate has been exposed in the camera
to the chemical action of the blue rays, the change which
has taken place is invisible to the eve, and in this state is
called the latent image, because it. is dormant or hidden.
In order to preserve this chemical change in the silver
salts the sensitive plate must be washed or soaked in a
solution which will form an opaque compound with the
part of the salt which has been acted upon by the light.
As it is necessary to have a light to watch the process and
stop it when it has been carried far enough, we must have
a light free from actinic or blue rays. We therefore darken
the room and use a red light, for the red rays have little
or no actinic power.
As we watch the chemical change which takes place in
the sensitive, plate when covered with what we call the de-
veloper, we notice black patches appear here and there on
the plate. These are the places which have been exposed
to the strongest actinic rays. All bodies radiate or reflect
light, some more than others. A piece of yellow silk may
appear to the eye lighter in color than a piece of blue silk,
but when the two pieces are photographed it will be found
that the yellow photographs much darker than the blue
534
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
silk. Tills is because the yellow silk does not reflect actinic
rays, while the blue does, and therefore the sensitive plate
is more strongly affected by the light reflected from the
bine than from the yellow silk. The yellow-colored silk
possesses the illuminating power which causes it to make a
room look bright and sunny, while the bine silk possesses
the. chemical power which atl'ects the sensitive salts.
If I he sensitive plate has been exposed to a landscape, the
strongest actinic rays come from the bine sky, and as the
chemical used to develop or bring out the image ahYcts
the part which has been exposed to the strongest light
most quickly, the result in the negative is the opaque de-
posit which covers all that part of the plate exposed to the
light from the sky. After the image has appeared on the
plate it. must undergo another process to make it perma-
nent. It must be placed in a chemical solution which shall
dissolve the silver salts from the parts unaffected by the
actinic, rays. Where the actinic light has been the strongest
the glass will be covered with a black deposit, and where
the light has not reached the plate with sufficient force the
salts will be dissolved and the glass will be clear, while the
high lights, the shadows, and the half-tones will show jnst
how much each object reflected actinic rays.
We manage our cameras, but the snn is the real work-
man. What, he does is well worth learning, for it enables
us to tell beforehand jnst what kind of a negative we. shall
have after we have exposed a sensitive plate to his influ-
ence.
ROUND TABLE PHOTOGRAPHIC EXCHANGE CLUB.
Our suggestion of forming a photographic exchange club,
or travelling photographic exhibit, meets with the warm
approval of many of our members. Next week we shall
give directions for beginning and carrying on our club.
We give the names and addresses of members who will act
as representatives. Ernest P. Fredericks, Arlington, New
Jersey; Samuel J. Castner, 3729 Chestnut Street, Phila-
delphia, Pennsylvania; Walter G. Sill, 511 Central Avenue,
East Orange, New Jersey; Andrew Phillips, Nnnda, New
York; C. Roy Baker, 315 W. Dry Street, Salem, Ohio;
William J.Tobey, Washington, Kansas; William C. Davids,
Rutherford, New Jersey.
CONSTANT RKAIIKR asks : " 1. Is it possible to photograph from a mov-
ing vessel, and how? 2. Call I take photographs of microscopic speci-
mens with an ordinary camera, and will you please describe the method?
3. How can I photograph monuments so that they will not show black
in tile picture? 4. What make of plates is the quickest ? 5. How can
I photograph a mantel-piece in a hall without using a flash-light? The
hall is rather dark." 1. One cun easily photograph objects from a moving
vessel by using quick plates and making the exposure instantaneous
Successful snap-shots, but not artistic pictures, have been and can be
made from moving trains. 2. An article will soon be published on
microphotography for amateurs. The process requires too long a descrip-
tion for the space devoted to queries. 3. A cloudy day — not heavy
clouds — is the better time for photographing monuments. A rather slow
plate and a short lime exposure will give better detail, and render the
monument or figure with correct color value. Use orthochromatic or
nonlmlation plates. 4. The rapidity of the plate is marked on the box.
Some brands of plates are marked with the sensitometer number, like the
Stanley, Carbutt, Seed, etc., and others are marked with a letter like the
Cramer. The sensitiveness of the Stanley, which is marked "Sens. 50,"
and the Cramer "C" plate is about equal as to rapidity. 5. If you
cannot use a flash-light for the mantel, try a long exposure by lamp-light.
Place the lamp, which should give a clear, brilliant light, so as to illumi-
nate the wood-work without giving strong shadows. If one lamp is not
sufficient to light the whole surface, take two, but place them so that the
light from each comes from the same direction. A reflector back of the
lomp helps the lighting. A shallow tin pan, if bright, makes a good re-
flector if the genuine article cannot be obtained.
LADV GUACE S., Vails Gate, N. Y., asks for the name of a book giving
full instructions in photography for beginners. " Every camera maker
furnishes with each camera sent out a book giving simple instruction for
using the camera, and directions for developing plates. This would be a
sufficient guide for the beginner, and if rules are followed one can obtain
very good negatives. There are many books published on photography
which would be helpful after a while, but the beginner will rind the di-
rections which come with the camera all that are needful at first. With
this number we begin publishing what will be a series of papers for be-
ginners in photography. Technical terms will be explained, formulas
for work will be given with explanations of what each chemical is ex-
pected to do. Prices of chemicals for each formula will also In- inlilnl.
It is intended to make these instructions as simple as possible, and it
Lady Grace will watch this column she will find in it we hope just the
help she needs."
OFF WITH TlIK MKKHOY.
BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.
CIIAPTKI: v.
THE WIZAliD.
IM.MIKHOY grasped the old man's
hand, and for a few moments w.-is
silent. He was so astonished that
he could do nothing but gaze upon
his new acquaintance in wonder.
The little old man seemed very
much pleased at Jimmieltoy's ap-
parent wonderment, for he smiled
broadly and said,
"Thank yon, sir."
"Yon are very welcome," mur-
mured Jimmieboy, " but I don't know what for. I didn't
know that I had done anything for yon to thank me for."
"Yes, indeed, yon have," returned the little old man,
letting go of Jimmieboy's hand, and dancing a lively jig
upon the broad marble top of the bureau. "You have
done two things. Yon have' released me from a long im-
prisonment, for one thing, and for another yon have looked
at me in a manner which proves that yon think me a must
interesting person. I like freedom better than anything in
the world, and next to that I like being an interesting per-
son."
"And were you really shut up in that little drawer so
that you couldn't get out?" asked Jimmieboy, beginning to
feel very glad that fortune had led him that way, and so
enabled him to help the little old man out of his trouble.
"Yes," answered the other. "I've been locked up in
that drawer there for nearly lifty years."
"Fifty years!" ejaculated Jimmieboy. "Why, that's
longer than I have lived."
"No, not quite," said the little old man. "They were
dream years, and a dream year isn't much longer than a
day of your time ; but they have seemed real years to me,
and I am just as grateful to you for unlocking the drawer
and letting me out as I should have been had the years
been three hundred and sixty-five days long each."
" Why should any one want to lock yon up in a drawer ?"
asked Jimmieboy. "Were yon naughty f"
"No," said the old man. "I never did a naughty thing
in all my life, but they locked me up just the same — jnst as
if I had been a poor little canary-bird."
" WTho did it I" queried Jimmieboy. "They must have
been very wicked people to treat you that way."
"They were. Awfully wicked." said the little old man.
"They were wickeder than they seem, because really, you
know, they intended that I should stay locked up there
forever and ever."
" But how did they come to do it ?" asked Jimmieboy.
"It's a long story," answered the little old man. "But
if you want me to, I'll tell it."
" Do," said Jimmieboy.
" Very well, then, I will," said the little old man. "But
not here. It is too wet here. WTe'll go inside the drawer
ourselves, where we ean lie dry and comfortable, and we'll
take the key in with us and lock ourselves in so that no-
body can interfere with us. Will you come?"
"I don't see how I can," said Jimmieboy, looking down
at his own body and then pointing to the drawer. "Don't
you see I am two or three dozen times too big to get iu
there ?"
••That doesn't make any ditl'cicnce," said the little old
man with a laugh. " For I am a wi/.ard, and I can make
you large or small, jnst as I please. If you will say the
word I'll make you so small you couldn't see yourself witb
a magnifying-glass."
Jimmieboy thought a moment, and concluded very wise-
ly, I think, that he would rather not be so small as that.
" I don't like to lose sight of myself," he said.
"Very well, then," said the other. "Suppose I make
you jnst about my size ? How would that do ?"
"I'd like that very much," replied Jimmieboy, kindly.
"I think you are an awfullv nice size."
535
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
JIMMIEBOT PUTS ON THE LAST COAT.
are the pleasantest boy I know," lie said; "and yon will
find out before long that it is worth while to make friends
with olil Thunildii, Lord High Wizard of the Sea, and
Court Jester to the King of the Waves."
"Are yon all that ?" said Jimmieboy. pleased to discover
that his new-found friend was a person of so great impor-
tance.
"Yes indeed," answered Thumbhi. " I am all that, and
half a dozen things more. In fact, I am so much that if
we had a million dream years together I couldn't even be-
gin to tell you all that- I am. But come. Are you ready to
be made smaller .'"
•• Yes," said Jimmieboy, a little nervously. " What do I
do first?"
" You must put on a coat I give you," replied the wizard.
" It will be a little small for yon, perhaps, but you can get
it on."
The wizard opened one of the bureau drawers, and took
therefrom a coat, in which Jimmieboy hastened to array
himself. It was, as the old man had said, a little small for
him, but he managed to get into it, and after wearing it a
minute or two he found it quite comfortable.
"Now take it off," said the wizard, taking a second coat
out of the drawer, " and put this one on."
Jimmieboy took off the coat. ''Is this larger than the
other .'" he asked, as he began to put the second coat on.
•• No ; it is a trifle smaller," replied the wizard. " That's
my scheme. You keep putting on coats that are smaller
than the one you have just taken off. You stay in them
until they fit you comfortably, and finally when you get
the last one on you will be small enough to get into the
drawer."
"That's a fine plan," said Jimmieboy.
Then lie went through the process of changing coats,
each new coat being a little smaller than the other, until
he had tried on at least fifty of them, when for the first
time since he began he caught sight of himself in the glass.
"My!" he cried, in pleased as-
tonishment. " I'm hardly any
bigger than you are."
••That's so," replied the little
old man. " One more coat, and we
can get you iuto the drawer."
Jimmieboy put on the last coat.
A little bit of a thing it was, hard-
ly larger than a doll's overcoat,
and, if the truth be told, awfully
tight; but, as with all the others,
it soon became as comfortable
as any coat he had ever worn,
and then, looking at himself in the
glass once more, Jimmieboy ob-
served that he was actually no
larger than Thumbhi.
"It didn't hurt much, did it ?"
asked Thnmbhi.
" Not a bit," said Jimmieboy.
" It was as easy and pleasant as
could be."
"That's the great thing about
my tricks," said the wizard.
"They never hurt anybody. It-
would be a good thing if all
tricks were that way. Tricks
that hurt people are mean, and I
don't have anything to do with
them, and if yon will take my ad-
vice you won't either."
'• I'll take anything you'll give
me," said Jimmieboy.
The old wizard laughed hearti-
ly at this. "Most boys would,"
said he, " hut you are the first one
I ever met who was willing to
take advice. The boys I've known
have all been like little Sammy.
Ever hear about little Sammy ?"
"No," answered Jimmieboy. " What did he do ?"
"Why," said the wizard, "Sammy is the boy the poet
wrote about, saying:
" Sammy was a pretty boy,
Sammy was his mother's joy.
Sammy'd take
A piece of cake,
Sammy'd always take a toy.
" Sammy'd take a top to spin.
Pie with fruit and raisins in.
Sammy'd take
A piece of steak,
Sammy'd take his medicine.
"Sammy'd take a bowl of rice,
Sammy'd take a bit of spice.
Sammy'd take
A garden rake,
But he would not take advice."
Here the wizard stopped.
"Is that all?" asked Jimmieboy.
"Certainly," answered Thumbhi. "What more do you
want .'"
"Didn't anything happen to Sammy?" queried Jinimie-
boy.
The wizard was about to say no, but then he suddenly
remembered that something always does happen to boys
that refuse to take advice, so he said: "The poet never
told us about that, but I think it probable that something
did happen to Sammy. Very likely he went out skating on
a mill-pond one summer day in spite of his father's warn-
ing, and got his feet so wet that he caught cold, and had to
stay in bed while all the other boys went off on a picnic."
This seemed to satisfy Jimmieboy, and Sammy was
dropped as a subject of conversation.
" Now let us go into the drawer," said the wizard.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
536
^INTERSCHOIfASTO
"•«
<
IF THE SUCCESS OF A TRACK-ATHLETIC meeting is to be
judged from the number of records broken, the two iu-
terscholastic meets of May llth at Berkeley Oval and at
Eastern Park will go down iii the annals of school sport as
the most notable occasions of the kind ever held. The con-
.... :, :._•<:-• : :•>. • • . .•••'•
FINISH IN THE 100-YARD DASH.
ti'stants in the N.Y.I. S. A. A. games left the records of only
four events on the card standing at the same figure they
showed when the programme was printed, and came so
close to these that the entire schedule was in danger
of being entirely overthrown. The management of the
Oval games was as near perfection as cau be hoped for
•where so many events and so many contestants have to be
attended to ; and although in Brooklyn there was consider-
able delay at one time on account of the non-arrival of the
hurdles, yet things were kept moving as fast as possible,
and the enthusiasm of the spectators helped to till what
might otherwise have been several tedious gaps. The
Cutler athletes deserve the highest praise for the work
they performed. They came ou the h'eld with Barnard
and Berkeley strong favorites, and they went into every
event with an earnestness and energy that were finally re-
warded by victory. Cutler's score was 34i points, with
Barnard second, having 30, and Berkeley
third, with 27. Next year there will be
a hot struggle between Barnard and Cut-
ler for the final ownership of the cup,
which will then be decided, unless some
other strong team is developed, to come in
and secure the trophy for a year's custo-
dianship.
AI.THOTGH HALL WON THE second heat
in the 100 in 10| seconds, with Moore be-
hind him, lie was unable to distance Moore
when the linal test came, and the Barnard
man plunged ahead and took the event.
All the heats in the 100 were close and in-
teresting, and no winner had an easy time
of it in. any case. In fact, all the sprints
were contested in sound earnest. The
quarter-mile furnished as pretty a race as
any. Irwin-Martin kept along in the mid-
dle of the bunch until they were well op-
posite the grand stand on the far side of
the field, when he pulled ahead strongly
and steadily, and finished in good style. His effort was
a strain on him, however, for he collapsed as soon as
he had breasted the tape. For this reason he was prob-
ably not in his best form when he toed the scratch for
the half-mile, but it is doubtful if he could have dis-
tanced Meehan even if he had been. Mee-
hau proved himself to be in the pink of
condition. Robinson, the old Yale runner
who has been training him, told me at the
start that Meehan had been trained to do-
the first quarter in 60 seconds, and as he
passed the mark the watch showed just
that time. He was leading then, and kept
right ou,with strong graceful strides un-
til he finished, and broke the record by
one- second. Irwin-Martin did his best
to pull up ; but Meehan kept ahead easilx .
with a broad smile on his face, and ap-
peaivd to be just as fresh at the finish as.
lie had been at the start.
THE MILE RUN was another pretty race.
There must have been more than twenty
starters, and they trotted oft' in a tight
bunch, sticking well together for three
entire laps. Then Tappin gradually pull-
ed <mt from the centre, with Mosenthal and
McC'ord seesawing behind him. He kept
increasing his lead, and although Mosenthal pushed him
pretty hard, he finished strong, with the place men a couple
of yards behind, and the field straggling as far back as the
bend. Blair failed to come up to his promised form, and
« as at no time a factor in the race. The walk was practi-
cally a duel between Hackett and Walker. Hackett took
the lead, and Walker stuck close to his heels, making sev-
eral attempts to pass him. On the stretch Walker made
one last desperate effort, and walked abreast of his oppo-
nent for several yards, while the judge of walking almost
went frantic in his endeavors to keep the racers down to
form. Neither broke, however, and Hackett won by a
yard. Walker is still young for such strong work, but I
am sure that he will be heard from within the nest few
years. The bicycle racers broke the in terscholastic record
of 2 min.49J sec. in ever}' heat, and Powell's final race,
which brought the time down to 2 miu. 34i sec., was a
FINAL HEAT IN THE 120- YARD HURDLES.
537
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
N.Y. I.S. A. A. Record.
^.•VMII* t.. May 11, 181J5.
N. Y. I. S A. A. Gamps, l!erl«"l.-v Oval, New York,
M n 1
Long Island I. S. A. A. Games, Eastern Park, Brooklyn,
May 11, IS'J.i.
Winner.
Perf.ii n.
Winner.
Performance.
10 S-S sec.
11 -I-'. ••
2'2 4-5 '
23 4-5 '
Ml
•• Hi. 5 1-5 '
4 •' 52 '
7 " 302-5 '
16 1-5 "
27 1-5 "
2 " 493-5 "
Moore, Bnrnard
Leech, Cutler
Mi ii ire, Barnard
Leech, Cutlei
Invin-Martin, Berkeley
Meelinn, Condon
Tappin. Cutler
Hacked, Trinity
Beers, De La Sulle
Si me, I'.iirnard
Powell, I'ntler
10 3-5 sec.
11 "
2:1 1-5 "
24 3-5 "
533-5 "
2m. 41-5 "
5 " 4 3-5 "
7 " 4 2-5 "
153-5 "
263-5 "
2 " 34 1-5 "
Stevens, B. L. S.
Robinson, St. PauPa
Stevens, B. L. S.
10 3-5 sec.
11
253-5 '
ISl), l"l .Jlllll'irw
l2'_'ll-\ :inl ihish
820-yard <l:ish, lor Juniors
Jewell, Adelphi
IVdCord, B. H.-S.
Roiner, B'klyn Acad.
Hall, St. Paul's
Gnnnison, Adelphi
Gunnison, Adelpbi
553-5 '
2m. 133-5 '
5 " 12
S " 3T
li;::-r, •
294-5 '
11 It' "1 ' rim
M le run
220-yard hurdles
One-mile bievde
T\\ M-llllle liieyi'le
Rllliljinu' hiL'li jinn})
Kunnini: broad jump
Pole vault
Put I in1.: I'^pimml >lmt
Throwing 12-poimil h:iminer ..
Throwing baseball
5 ft. 9 in.
21 " 5
10 "
89 " 1
110 " 3 1-2 "
325 " 9 "
Baltazzi, Harvard
Cowperthwaite, Col. Grain.
Simpson, Barnard
Ayers, Coiiflmi
Invin-Martin, Berkeley
Zizinia, Harvard
5ft, 11 ill.
20 ' S
111 ' 3-8 "
in ' 3-4 "
111 ' 41-2 "
325 ' 4 "
Giinnison, Adelphi
Jewell, Adelphi
Phillips, B. &S.
Mason, Poly. Prep.
Mason, Poly. Prep.
B ft. 4 1-2 in.
20 " 3 1-2 "
9 " 7
36 " 8
100 " 11 "
bountiful contest. Kluieli pushed liitn hard all the way,
ami finished a strong si nil. A pleasing feature of the
event was that only one collision occurred, aud this was not
serious.
THE BEST PERFORMANCE of the day, from an athletic
point of view, was Halta/./.i's high jumping. He was in
good form, and won the event by clearing 5 ft. 7 in. Then
In- had the bar put up a quarter of an inch above the inter-
scholastie. record mark of 5 ft. 9 in., and cleared it, thus in-
suring for himself a rcrnrd medal. The " take-oft'" was in
bad condition, and had to be constantly rolled. There
were also several bad holes along the runway. In addi-
tion to this. Haltax/.i's right shoe, split, and afforded him al-
most no support. N'evert.holess, he felt that he could do
even better than 5 ft.'.M in. .and he had the bar raised to 5
ft. 11 in. lie failed the tirst five times allowed him fora
record ti , lint on the sixth he gut a good start, cleared the
holes, and found a solid spot to "take off" on, and cleared
the stick as neatly and gracefully as he ever did at 5 ft. 5
in. He had never before, even in practice, done better
than 5 ft. 10i in. Baltaz/,i goes to Columbia next, year, and
will be a factor in the iutereollegiates if he keeps in his
present form, which I have no doubt he will. I expect to
see him go beyond 6 feet inside of two years. He will
doubtless be one of the N. Y.A.C.'s representati ves when the
English athletes come over here this year.
THE RECORDS FOR TIIK OTHER field events, with the ex-
ception of throwing the baseball and the broad jump, were
broken. Ayres bettered the shot record almost by a foot,
and Irwin-Martin, in spite of his hard work in the runs,
threw 117 feet 4£ inches with the hammer. A notable
THE I. S. HIGH-JUMP RECORD.
Bultazzi, Harvard, clearing the bar at 5 ft. 11 in.
THE MILE RUN.
feature of this event was that every place man in it sur-
passed the interscholastic record, the third man bettering it
as much as 3 feet. This kind of work is most encouraging,
and cannot fail to raise the standard of the contestants,
and create a most beneficial competition. If a man knows
he has got to break the record even to get third place,
there will be good work done. Cowperthwaite, as I had
anticipated, won the broad jump easily, but he should have
gotten closer to the record than he did. He covered 20 feet
8 inches. One of the other exciting and unexpected features
of the day was the semi-final in the Junior 100, when Leech
left the field about ten yards behind. He will make a
good man as his two easy victories over Wilson will attest.
A BETTER EXHIBITION of tennis than that offered by Ware,
when he defeated Whitman in the final match on Holmes
Field, Cambridge, last week Monday, could hardly be wished
for. The Roxbury player was decidedly in championship
form, and although he won in three straight sets — 6-4, 6-3,
7-5 — he had to play his level best, for Whitman was no
easy victim. In the third set Ware showed what he was
made of. The games were 5-2 against him, but he gathered
himself together, played a cool, careful game, displaying
excellent judgment at every point, aud thus pulled out the
next live names, and the set. It was exciting throughout.
Whitman took the first game. His opponent got the second,
and both were then playing as good tennis as they knew
how, with the advantage temporarily in favor of Whitman.
By keeping close up to the net he managed to fool Ware a
guild many times, at the same time saving himself from com-
mitting his great fault of banging the ball into the net.
This Whitman invariably does when he stands hack. Ware
evidently knew his antagonist's style of play, for he gradu-
ally coaxed Whitman nearer and nearer to the back line,
and then pounded the balls at him, with the 7-5 result.
Ware will be seen at a number of tournaments this sum-
mer, and will no doubt bring a triumphal record back to
538
HAEPER'S BOUND TABLE
SUMMARY OF POINTS MADE.
New York I. S. A. A.
Long Island I. S. A. A.
School.
Firsts.
Seconds.
Thirds.
Points.
School.
Firsts.
Seconds.
Thirds.
Points.
4
2
1
0
2
4
I
0
0
0
0
2
1
0
0
0
0
2
4
0
0
0
4
0
2
0
0
0
2
0
1
0
1
1
4
5
1-3
0
2
21-2
0
0
2
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
30
27
51-2
0
12
341-2
5
6
2
0
0
16
5
3
0
S
3
6
3
2
2
2
0
I)
2
3
3
3
2
2
0
::
5
1
1
2
1
2
39
29
20
20
IS
7
2
Columbia ln>tiliUe
I •|ir|,-r
De La Salic
Y'lle
Roxbury with liira in the fall. He will play
in tbe Western Championship Doubles at
Chicago, in the Long wood npen tourna-
ment, as well as in th<j Massachusetts cham-
pionships held on the same courts; and he
•will enter the lists at Newcastle, Bar Harbor,
Narragausett Pier, and Newport.
AT EASTERN PARK the Adelphi Academy
athletes swept everything before them.
Gunuison andJewell proved to be surprises,
the former winning three firsts and the
latter two firsts and cue second. The other
members of the- team seconded them so well,
that Adelphi took the cup with 10 points
more to their credit than their nearest rival,
which was Poly. Prep, with 29. It is to be,
regretted that there was any hitch over the
delivery of the hurdles, and at onetime it
seemed as if those two events would have
to be omitted ; but the sticks did come, and
the races furnished some of the best sport
of the day. The Junior 100 gave a close
finish, and the 220 furnished an exciting
contest. Stevens took it from Jewell, who
had been counted a winner, but Jewell re-
trieved himself when he won the quarter
handily, it being his first attempt at running
that distance. Bedford was somewhat of a
disappointment to his schoolmates, who ex-
pected him to take the mile for B.H.-S. in-
stead of allowing it to go to Adelphi, but
he ran the half-mile in good time, and took
second in the longer distance. The walk
was most interesting too. Clark and Stars
were fairly in lock-step behind Hall, and it
was nip and tuck with the three until the
tape was broken.
THE BICTCLE RACE, in which the Long
Island record was lowered If seconds, was
run under the rules of the L.A.W., and with
the sanction of the L.A.W. Racing Board.
This is the first school race to be so run.
The final heat looked like a dead heat be-
tween Roehr and Hazeltiue, and I have no
doubt that if tbe two had set the pace earlier
in the race the record would have been
greatly bettered. In thepole vault Phillips
beat his own record of 9 feet by 7 inches,
and the hammer record was increased by
over 24 feet. Mason threw 100 ft. 11 in.
Sm ne of the other records that were smashed
were the mile run, which was lowered 2!
seconds; Bedford brought down the half-
mile record from 2 min. 17| sec. to 2 min.
12| sec.; Gnnnisou made the record in the
high hurdles read 16| sec. instead of 18| sec.
The record for the 100 was broken three
times. In the final heat the time was 10|
sec., and in the second and third heats it
was 10? sec. and 10J sec. respectively. Ste-
vens made the best time.
THE ACCOMPANYING TABLE offers a com-
parison of the work done on the two tracks,
and will serve as a record of the day's doings.
Space prevents my inserting a comparative
table of the iuterscholastic and intercol-
legiate records, but I shall do that at an
early date, and the showing will by no
means discredit the school athletes. The
only difference between the New York and
Long Island programmes is that the New-
Yorkers run a one-mile bicycle race, while
the athletes on the other side of the Bridge
cover two miles in that event. And they
do not throw the baseball. They are right.
The event is not athletic.
THE YALE IXTERSCHOLASTIC Tennis Tour-
nament was held in New Haven on the same
date as Harvard's in Cambridge, and al-
though the entries were not so many from
the Connecticut schools, the work of the
players was excellent. The winner was J. P.
Sheldon, of Hotehkiss Academy, who held
the championship of Ohio before he came
East to attend school at Lakeville. Shel-
don's hottest matches were against Sage
and Trowbridge, who was last year's cham-
pion. He defeated Sage in two sets, 7-5,
6-2, and overcame Trowbridge only after
three stubbornly contested sets, 8-G, (i-2,
6-4. Last year Trowbridge did not com-
pete at Newport, and it is Sheldon's inten-
tion now to follow his schoolmate's example.
I hope he will change bis mind, for it is to
the interest of sport that the ablest players
should meet, aside from the mere question
of determining which one is actually the
strongest.
THE INTERSCHOLASTIC RELAY RACES,
held on Franklin Field, Philadelphia, April
20th, at the same time as the Intercollegiate
relay races, developed the fact that the
schools, in point of time, made almost as
good a showing as the colleges. The best
collegiate performance of the day was Har-
vard's defeat of the University of Pennsyl-
vania in 3 m.34|sec. Tlie poorest winning
time was made by C. C. N. Y. — 3 in. ~>7>\ see.
The fastest time by a school team was made
by the Central High-School, which defeated
the Manual Training School in 3 m. 57^ sec.
The most interesting scholastic contest was
between De Lancey and Episcopal Academy.
Episcopal gained the lead in the first lap,
only to lose it in the second, but regained it
in the final quarter when only 75 yards from
home. Here Ogelsby, spent with his hard
run, could not go another step, and fell to
the ground, leaving Kuors to finish in a
canter.
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539
HARPEB'S BOUND TABLE
BICYCLING
This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will be pleased to
answer any question on tbe subject. Our maps and tonrs contain much valuable data kindly
supplied from the official maps and road-books of the League of American Wheelmen. Recoe-
nizinK the value of the work being done by the L. A. W. the Editor will be pleased to furnish
subscribers with membership blanks and information so far as possible.
rilHE BICYCLE IJOVTK this week is one of the pleasantest
_L iu the vicinity of New York city. It is the ruu across
Staten Island. The reader should study the map of New
York city published in No. 809, and find the best way in
which to reach South Ferry. If he is a skilful rider, he
may take the middle track of the cable-car (Broadway
route), and follow that down Broadway ; if not, he must
come down towards South Ferry through the east side of
New York. Arrived at South Ferry, take the Staten Island
ferry-boat to St. George. On leaving the ferry at St. George
Copyright, 1895, by Harper & Brothers.
he should turn to the left, go up a rather steep hill, nml
take the third street to the left — that is, Stuyvesant Place
and Avenue, and running along this southward take the
third street to the right, and after going one block upon
this turn to the left into Central Avenue. He should
keep on Central Avenue until he reaches Tompkius Ave-
nue, which is the first turn to the right ; then, going south-
ward on Tompkins Avenue, he should turn into Bay Street,
and continue on Bay Street until he approaches Clifton,
having passed through Tompkinsville and Stapletmi. Just
before reaching Clifton station he (should turn right into
Richmond road, and continue through Concord, Grassmere,
Linden Park, Garretson, and Grant City, until just a ft IT Ira \ -
ing a large cemetery on the right, he runs into New Dorp.
AT THE BLACK HORSE TAVEHX in New Dorp, which, hy-
the-way, is the only place to stop at, turn to the left into
Anilioy Road, pass the Court-house on the left ; then about
a mile farther on cross the railroad and run into Giftbrds.
Another mile, and the rider passes through Ettingville.
This part of the road, from New Dorp through
Ettiugville, is more or less hilly, but the. road
here, as elsewhere for the entire route, is iu
excellent condition, and is macadamized.
From Ettingville the rider passes through
Annauilale, Huguenot, crosses the railway
again, continues on through Prince's Bay,
thence to Pleasant Plains, crossing track
again, and a mile further on enters Richmond
Valley. He then keeps to the main road,
which is the left-hand turn in Richmond Val-
ley, and proceeds until he reaches the out-
skirts of Totteuville, where, turning sharp to
the. right, he enters Main Street, and may
make a stop at the West End Hotel; but if
he is going further (for this is the most direct
route through New Jersey to the South), he
may ride down to the Amboy Valley.
IT is V;ELL worth the wheelman's while to
continue ou towards Clifton after leaving
Stapletou, instead of turning to the right into
Richmond road, and, continuing through Clif-
ton, to run down to Fort Wadsworth, which
is one of the important inner forts of the
harbor, and commands a view of the Lower
Bay. By keeping to this road after leaving
Fort YVadsworth, and following it as it turns
sharply to the right, he can run down tow arils
South Beach, and join the Richmond road
again just as he enters Linden Park. Further-
more, after leaving the Court-house, a mile or
more beyond New Dorp, a road turns sharply
to the right running up into the hills; and
'from Richmond, which is perhaps a mile and
a half away, he may leave his wheel and
climb up to the old Lookout, where once stood
a fort of thij Revolutionary War. The view
(Venn here commands most of the island and
the Lower liny, and is one of the best in the
vicinity of New York city. There is a short
ride over a good road from St. George along
the northern boundary of Staten Island, run-
ning through New Brighton, Snug Harbor.
Livingston, West New- Brighton, Port Rich-
mond, Tower Hill, etc., down to Bowniau's
Point ; and it is possible for the rider to take
this road, turning off at Tower Hill to the
left, on the Port Richmond road, running across
t In' island through New Spriugville and Green
Ridge ou to the Richmond road at Etting-
ville. This Port Richmond road, however, is
hilly, and though in moderately good condi-
tion, is not to be compared with the Richmond
road .
NOTE.— Map of New York city asphalted streets in
No. 809. jVIuji of route from New York to Tarrvtown in
No. 810. New York to Stamford, Connecticut, iu No.
811.
540
HAEPEE'S BOUND TABLE
Tliia Department is conihietnl
Women, Hrul the Editor will be
the suhject so far a8 possible. Co
ple
iteit of Girl» »nd Yon
s should address Edito
rnilESE are very busy days for some of
_l_ yon, because, as we all know, school
examinations are just in advance. I \\;i>
talking with a girl friend this morning,
and she said she did not at all mind exam-
inations, because she was very thorough
\\ithlier\vork alb through the term. She
said, " By never slighting anything from
the beginning of the term to the end, I find
I do not have any harder work at the end
than at the beginning." I wish that all
young people — and, for that matter, older
ones, too — would imitate her example. It
is a good plan to lie thorough with what we
do, and to establish a reputation for being
so among our friends, so that people may
know that they can always depend on ns.
A lack of this quality of thoroughness often
leads to very grave accidents. A ship has
gone do\vu before now in mid-ocean because
of the unfaithfulness of somebody who had
to do with its building, and from time to
time tall houses fall and people are killed
because architects or carpenters were un-
faithful when constructing the rickety
tilings, and allowed flaws to pass, and were
contented with makeshifts. Our rule
should be not to slight our work, but al-
ways to do it in the best possible manner.
THE habit of thoroughness in housekeep-
ing leads one to keep rooms in good order
and the table beautifully appointed. I
know a girl who says that she takes great
pains with her room whenever she thinks
her aunt Mary is coming to see her, because
Aunt Mary's sharp eyes discover every
speck of dust, and observe any trifle that is
in the least out of order. Aunt Mary is a
bit of a critic, and her niece a little afraid
of her comments.
In other words, the aunt has made a cow-
ard of the girl. I do not like the idea of
being in bondage to anybody, whether an
aunt or a stranger. It would seem to me a
far better way to feel that one must answer
to one's self, and that one would not feel
satisfied unless she could look herself in the
glass and say: "There, everything is done
in the best possible manner, and you can-
not find any fault with me to-day. Try to,
if you dare !"
I WONDER whether you are particular to
write notes of thanks very soon after re-
ceiving gifts or acts of courtesy? The
value of a note of thanks is greatly in-
creased by its being prompt. If some friend
leaves a bunch of violets at your door, and
you fail to acknowledge it until the flowers
have faded, your thanks, when they do
come, are tardy. When flowers are sent to
those who are ill, they, of course, cannot
repay the courtesy by a little note them-
selves, but some one in the family should
do it for them. Your note of thanks should
be very genial, showing that yon are really
pleased by the kind attention and the hap-
pier because of it. Do not be afraid to
write warmly and cordially on such occa-
sions. If stift" and formal you are unjust
both to your friend and yourself.
SPEAKING of illness, it happens that some
of you have to take care of those who are
ill, and it is worth while to cultivate a way
of moving lightly and quietly about a sick
room. One should never wear creaking
shoes nor a rustling dress in a room where
any one is ill. The nerves of people in ill-
ness are very acute and sensitive to every
sound. A friend recovering from a long at-
tack of typhoid fever told me that, while
she was convalescent, she was nearly driven
frantic by the fact that her nurse, writing
notes in her room, used a pen which
scratched on the paper. Even this little
noise was most distressing to her in her
weak state, and she said that when the
same nurse begau to sew by her bed she
could hear the sound of the thread going
through the muslin, and it seemed to her so
loud and jarring that she could not bear it.
I have known a person suffering from a
severe headache in the third story of a
house to be greatly distressed by noises in
the kitchen, a long way below. You see,
we cannot be too careful to be very gentle
in our movements and quiet in our man-
ner when we are with those who are not
well.
C- S. M. — In reply to your inquiry concerning the
heat schools for studying designing in New York
city, we should advise the School of Applied Design
for Women, Twenty-third Street, and Seventh Avenue,
tuition $60 a year, and Cooper Institute, Ninth Street
and Third Avenue, tuition almost free. In Philadel-
phia, the Drexel Institute and the Pennsylvania Mu-
seum and School of Industrial Art, Thirteenth and
Spring Garden streets. lu Boston, the Museum of
Fine Arts. Any of these schools is suitahle for your
purpose.
/
STARVED TO DEATH
in millet of plenty. Unforlumue, yet we hear of it.
The Gail Borden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk is un-
doubtedly the Siifest and best infant food. Infant
Health is avaluable pamphlet for mothers. Send your
address to N. Y. Condensed Milk Co., N. Y.— [Adv.]
Scott's Emulsion
is Cod-liver Oil emulsified, or
made easy of digestion and as-
similation. To this is added the
Hypophosphites of Lime and
Soda, which aid in the digestion
of the Oil and increase materially
the potency of both. It is a re-
markable flesh-producer. Ema-
ciated, ansemic and consumptive
persons gain flesh upon it very
rapidly. The combination is a
most happy one
Physicians recognize its su-
perior merit in all conditions of
wasting. It has had the en-
dorsement of the medical pro-
fession for 20 years.
Don't beper&uacted to take a substitute?
Scott & Bowne, N. Y. All Druggists. 50c. and$l,
541
Co
Summer Underwear
Ladies' and Children's
Silk-and-Wool Underwear,
Merino Underwear,
Union Suits.
SWISS RIBBED SILK, LISLE - THREAD,
AND WOOL UNDERWEAR.
Cartwright & Warner's
CELEBRATED UNDERWEAR.
HOSIERY
GLOVES
CAJ
NEW YORK CITY.
The price has nothing to do
with the
FIT
For ALL, of Dr. Warner's Cor-
sets are fitted to living models.
Prices from one to six dollars each.
Stamps,
All. r
I K»» fine mixed Victoria. Cape of G.
! H.. India. Japan, etc.. with fine Stamp
ly lOr. New So- p. 1'rke - list free.
Jgcnli naultii M Ml% co ...... ission. STANDAKD
STAMP CO.. 4 Nicholson Place. St. I-ouis, Mo. Old
U. S. and Confederate Stamps bought.
100 all dif. Venezuela, C'osta Rico, etc., only
10c.; 200 all dif. Hay ti, Hawaii, etc. , only 50c.
Ag'ts wanted at BO per ct.com. List FREE1
C.A.Steglnailll,'2?2aEadsAv.,St.Lotli8,SIo.
var., all dif., 5c.; 12 var. Heligoland,
_ _ __^ ISc.; 6 var. Italy, 185S to 1S62, 5c. ; 3 var.
Hanover, sc.: SB var. C'.AmiM-iciln.Bnc. Agents warned.
F. «'. M1LLEK, 904 OliTe St., St. Louis, Mo.
POSTAGE DUES.— 50c. and 30c., at 70c. each; the
pair for $1.25 Diamond Stamp to., (jeriiiautotvn, Pa.
FALSE
MUSTACHES AND
GOATEES.
.
Fun for theboya,
a complete dis-
cuiM!; Fine hair
Roods! As Sample
,,; ,
,,r i,
ties, we st-ml one of each with lari,'-> Oitalntrue fur IOC.
R. H. IHGERSOLL & BRO., 65 CORTUNDT ST., N. Y. CITT.
HARPER'S BOUND TABLE
Two Exciting Puzzle Contests Ended.
ENI>EAVOKINO to favor the T.viu.i. with an easy puz-
zle, since many said the questions were too hard, a
II i of correct answers resulted in the Authors' Oat-
Lug i •oiliest, ami, iii acrordaiice with the rule, n sec-
om! eonlest, had to be held. Here are correct answers
To i lie onL'ih;il e. .ntest:
1. Moore — Moor. 2. Gay. 3. Yonge. 4. Lot's
wile, f.. The mulberry is said to have turned red be-
cause Pyramus killed himself at, the root of the tree,
in i lie belief that Thisbe hud been devoured by a
lion 6. Bacon. 7. Hogg. ,H. Kuskin. it. Lemon. 10.
Kohinson Crusoe's man Friday. 11. Dickens. 12.
Uaiis. 13. Bangs. 14. Theodore Child. 15. But-
ler. 16. Canning. 17. Hawthorne. IS. February.
19. Reade. 20. Swift. 21. Howitt— How it. 22.
Motherwell. 23. Scott— Scot. 24. Hood. 25. Lamb.
26. Lover. 27. Harlc. 2S. Twain. !!!l. Sponsor. 30.
Akenside. ::l. II. .Hand. ::•.'. Sienie. 33. Cooper. 34.
Smiles. 35. Wordsworth. 36. Goldsmith. 37. Shel-
ley. 3S. Borrow. 39. Sreele. 40. Santa flans.
A set of 35 new questions was prepared and sent
by mail, to tho-e who gave the foregoing correct an-
swers. Thus the ties \verf played oft', so to speak,
unsuccessful contestants anil outsiders being barred.
Following are answers to the new questions. In some
cases l lie questions themselves are given, since they
have not before been published. It was asked who
wrote these :
1 "The Widowed Heart," Albert Pike; 2 "The
Revellers," William Davis Gallagher, Mrs. Ilemans;
s "The Remarkable Wreck of the Tlmmus Hi/Ice,"
Frank H. Stockton; « '-Sicily Burns's Wedding,"
Geo. W. Harris; 5 "The Tar Baby," Joel Chandler
Harris- ' "The Only Daughter," Harriett Campbell,
O. VV. Holmes, Mrs. Hem y Wood; ' "The Semi-at-
tached Couple," Hon. Emily Eden : 8 "Marco Bozza-
ris," Fitz-Greene Halleck; ' "The Buckwheat Cake,"
Henry Pickering; » "Adams and Liberty," Robert
Treat Paine, Jr.
Four riddles were propounded:
» The Ghost in Hamlet. -» La Grippe.
18 Four of a kind, four of a name,
Loving one who was called the same.
Her star of good-luck went steadily down,
She lost her life when she lost her crown;
But they served her fondly till all was o'er,
These four of a name, these faithful four.
—The Four Marys of Mary Queen of Scots.
25 We are boon companions and nearly inseparable.
We lake interminable journeys together, travelling
over almost incalculable distances; always work to-
gether, and take our vacations at the same lime. We
may be found in every civilized portion of the globe
—useful alike in the king's palace, the peasant's hut,
the Indian's wigwam, the hospital ward, and the ship
at sea. Yet in some respects we are entirely differ-
ent, for while I can adapt myself to every situation
with perfect ease, my companion is very set in his
wayH, but together we bring order, comfort, and
beauty wherever we go. After the labor of years and
he is laid aside, my work remains to cheer and glad-
den many hearts, sometimes preserving family his-
tory \\liich would otherwise be forgotten. And yet,
m.i'rvcllons to relate, we have neither hands, feet,
head, nor body. — Needle and Thread.
Nos. 12 to 17 weiv ((notations from the poets, and
their answers are : '- sir Walter Raleigh, on the snuff
of a candle ; 13 Pope ; '» The Serenade. J. G. Percival ;
>6 War Song of Revolution, John Neal ; '» Youth and
Age, Richard Dabuey; " The New Roof, Francis
Uopkinson.
Contestants were asked to name the works in which
the following characters appear. Answers are here
given: '8 Froth, Measure for Measure; 2» Shallow,
"iveil : ' rroin, measure 101 IUCIIE uc, — oiiiiu.iv>,
Merry Wives of Windsor; 21 Godfrey Ablewhite,
Moonstone, by Collins; " Edmund Gray, Ivory Gate,
l ant; -3 Gwendolen Harleth. Daniel Deronda,
lace.
These questions were asked. Answers are here
LM veil after each :
"» A book wherein the heroine's name is not once
mentioned.— " Rntliidge," "She." 30 What famous
characler is it who, whether in doors or (.nt, summer
or winter, always keeps a glove on one hand? — M.
llamel in Mrs. Uclwards's "Hand ami Glove."
:1 What one was it who always offered bis left hand
to his friends because of the guilty deed done by the
right?— ISnsene Aram. 3! Name the fellow who, in
a famous book, stands chewing the rust from his
ttllgei When be reaches home he will probably find
In- wife "prayin1 agin'" him.— Jerry Cruncher. ss A
ehaiai-ter in another book who was the first to ride
on horseback from New York to San Francisco.—
Willard Glazier, John C. Fremont, John Brent. 34 The
book wherein one person calls upon another, and re-
in answer, though they are miles apart. — Jane
l fie, Peter ll.betson.
In No. ;:3 it was found that authorities, equally
credible, dim led. Hence the question was dropped,
au.l no matter what was the auswer it was coirhted
The prizes were fj.'i divided, but $10 to first. The
amount awarded is slightly increased. The hi-lnM
honor goes to George Peirre, who is a Pennsyl-
vania!], aged 12. He answered correctly all but two
of the questions. Second prizes of $2 each go to
Lois A. Howling, of New York (Rochesteri, and
John II. Campbell, Jr., of Pennsylvania (German-
town) ; and third prizes of $1 each to the following :
Harry Nelson Morey, New York; Henry S. Parsons,
Massachusetts; John J. Clarkson, Helen J. Curley,
and Martin Henueberry, Illinois; Charles A. Urner
and Frank A. Urner, New Jersey; Pierre Freret,
Louisiana; Edmund T. M. Franklin, Virginia; Kath-
rine S. Frost, Massachusetts; Edith L. Warner and
!•:.! i Hi C. Sanders, Maryland, and Mae Sterner, Penn-
sylvania.
Some Questions (or the Founders.
Now tuat our Order has been so conspicuously
honored as to have a great journal named for it,
there arise a few questions for the Founders to
vote upon. First, the Founders and all otber mem-
bers are asked to note that although the whole
paper is named for their Order, that Order has not
a less but a greater place in it, and, instead of a
few pages being devoted to them, now the whole
paper will seek to give them everything necessary
to their growth in that "goodlye felloeship, wor-
thie knowledge, and chivalrie up to date " which
form the grand basis of our union.
The questions to be voted on are these :
1. Shall we abolish or retain the eighteen-years-
t>f -age limit?
2. Shall we have a new membership certificate?
3. Shall we have a new and different badge?
The reasons for bringing up these questions are :
A great many lament the arrival of their eighteenth
birthday, when they can no longer be members.
They ask to remain in the Order, and suggest that
all competitions be limited, as heretofore, to the
eighteen-year-age limit. To tbe latter we agree,
promising to always limit the age to eighteen years,
as heretofore, and offering, if the Founders agree
thereto, to have a competition for those above
eighteen years. If it succeeds, to have competi-
tions for both ages, as opportunity offers. What
say you? Again, it is necessary to drop the name
"Young People" from our certificate. In doing
so why not have a handsomer one, and call it a
"patent," which is a better name than "certifi-
cate." It may be printed in the Order's colors,
yellow and blue.
New patents would be issued to all old members
who cared to ask for them. Once more, what say
you? Still again, our badge, adopted in the early
history of the Order, has met some objections. It
is five pansy leaves, bearing the letters "K. L. O.
I{. T." A Founder living in Winchester, England,
described for us once, you remember, what is
claimed to be the original Table used by King
Arthur and his Knights of the Holy Grail, still pre-
served in Winchester Cathedral. This Founder
suggests a badge that is a fac-simile of the top of
this Table. He sends a print of it, with the ancient
names, etc. The letters "K. L. O. R. TV'can be re-
tained. It is necessary to have badges low in
price, since many ought not to afford expensive
ones, and therefore we shall need to retain
silver for their material. It will be possible,
though, to procure gold ones for those who special-
ly order them. For the third question, we repeat,
what is the Founders' pleasure?
Founders of the order are the 5000 original mem-
bers. Those who have not passed their eighteenth
birthday are asUod to write us frankly. A postal
card will do. We shall be governed by your votes.
We may add, for the benefit of all, that our Order
is to have a great many attractive offers during
the next twelve months. The "feast" is to be a
rich one, and we hope every one of you will re-
main around the Table and enjoy it.
TRouno liable Cbapters.
No. 693.— The Thaddeus Stevens Chapter, of Phil-
adelphia, Pa. Its meetings are held on Thursday of
each week. The initiation fee is one dollar. Hor-
ace S. Reis, 910 North Broad Street.
No. 694.— The Quannapowitt. ( 'hapter, of Wake-
field, Mass. Charles Wait. George Tompson ; Ralph
Carlisle, president. 9 Summit Avenue.
No. 695.— The Columbus Chapter, of (''olumbus,
iihio Carl B. Harrop, Edward E. Stollghtou;
George cr.it. I. r.'v.i High hind Street,
N.I (i'.tii — Tiie Kirk Monroe chapter, of Nnttall-
Imrg, W. Yu. E. Jackson Taylor, John Nuttall,
Jun., Nuttallbnrg
542
No. 697.— The Kes-Kes Kick Chapter, of Yonkers,
N. Y. J. Fowler Trow, Jun., Mary Van Rensselaer
Ferris. Its meetings are held on Tuesdays. Chap-
ter address, 488 Warburton Ave.
No. 698.— The Admiral Benliam Chapter, of Fort
Adams, Newport, H. I. Its officers are Stephen C.
Row;in, Elizabeth Schenck Lee Simpson, Anna
Greble ; Carol H. Simpson, care of Lieutenant Simp-
son, Fort Adams.
No. 699. — The Thomas Edison Chapter, of Ban-
gor. Me. Fred H. Pond, Arthur A. Thompson, Myr-
tie D. Fox, Nellie M- Fox, Bangor.
No. TOO —The Oliver Wendell Holmes Chapter,
of Eau Claire, Wis. George D. Galloway, Eau
Claire.
No. 701.— The Sheridan Chapter, of Philadelphia,
Pa. Martin S. Poulson, John M Smith. Oland King,
George Frey. Lydie Holmes; Reese Baker, Section
C.,Girard College.
No. 702.— The Kirk Munroe Chapter, of Auburn,
Wash. J. French Dorrance, corresponding secre-
tary, Box 17, Auburn.
No. 703. — The-Keystone Music and Literary Chap-
ter, of Harrisburg, Pa. R. Donald Jenkins, Stanley
G. Smith, H. Stanley Jenkins; Louise N. Miller,
Harrisburg.
Corner.
A corresponding Chapter is one whose members
are widely separated and whose affairs are con-
ducted by mail. There are several such, dear Lady
Alice Cowly, but it is found very difficult in prac-
tice to maintain the interest. Keeping members
together in spirit who are hundreds of miles apart
iu body is no easy thing to do.
Ralph Leach, Stoughton, Mass., is interested in
athletic sports. He will enjoy the Table more
than ever, then, for it is to have more news about
sports than ever before. Anne Bliss wants to
know why the Table cannot have a "Students'
Corner " to help members in their school-work ; "a
geometrical diagram, scientific experiments, mean-
ing of new words — anything. I am sure such a
Corner would be very helpful." We heartily agree
with Lady Anne. Shall we have a new corner, or
will the Want one do? Let's have your questions.
The Table desires to help you in all ways that it
can. Consider this a Students' Corner, and use it
as such. We can find somebody to answer your
questions. Or perhaps you can answer each other's
1 1 nest ions. How would that do for some questions,
at least?
Here is one now. Maude Wigfield asks: "If a
heavy vessel, such as the cruiser New York, were to
go down in mid-ocean, could it overcome the enor-
mous pressure of the water, and sink to the very
bottom, or wouldjt reach an equal density before
it diil reach the bottom. Remember that some of
the compartments would still contain air." Let
us have opinions. Give us the pressure per square
foot at certain ocean depths, and the pressure the
war vessels are built to withstand. The Elbe,
whieh went down in the North Sea a few weeks
ago — that is on the very bottom of the sea, is it
not?
Herbert Benton lives at 1S08 East Seventh Street,
Kansas City, Mo. He asks how best to put plants
into a herbarium. Will some one give us a mor-
sel upon it? We can find the information from
1 i.M.ks, but much prefer the personal experience of
some member. Tell us all about flowers and plants
for herbariums. He also asks for the solution or
mixture in which writing may be placed upon
tissue-paper, the initial letter lighted and the writ-
ing burned out, without injury to the rest of the
paper. We had the formula of the solution some
time ago, but cannot now find it. Can somebody
help us to it again, for Sir Herbert's benefit?
Carolyn A. Nash lives in California and asks for
more time for sending puzzle solutions on account
of the distance to be travelled by the mails. The
present series of puzzles is exceptional, dear Lady
Carolyn, and the. dates of closing could not be made
different, nor can they now be changed. In future
contests the Pacific coast members shall be given
more time. Augusta C. Grenther and Charles
the more than twenty members
ot the Sangster ( 'hapti-r who attend one school at
Germailia, N. J. The Chapter meetings are held at
ihe sehool on Fridays. It wants correspondents,
and to exchange flowers and minerals.
HAEPEE'S KOTJND TABLE
STAMPS
This Department is conducted in
and the Editor will l>e pleased to at
so far as possible. Corres[»'iideiits
-tiim in. ,'ie subject
s Editor Stump De-
AT PHESKXT ALL COLLECTORS appear to
be hunting for varieties of the I'nilcil
States stumps of the 1872 issue, some of tin-
new varieties of which were illustrated in
these columns a short time ago. The fact that
the Continental Bank-Note Company were
the successors of the National Bank-Note
Company in the printing of that issue has
led to thr lirl'n-f tbat each of the stamps
printed by tin- Continental Company from
the plates made by the National Company
bears sonu1 mark to distinguish the com-
pany printing the stamps. Several of th,
values of the \til'i issue having been found
with such a mark, it would seem that all
the values were treated in the same manner,
the only difficulty being to discover the
mark. No help can be obtained from the
hank-note companies, as they preserve ab-
solute secrecy in regard to the stamps, it
thus being left to the collectors to study
out the marks. While these exceedingly
small varieties will greatly puzzle the col-
lector, they lead to one great object, by
showing that a close study of stamps is
necessary iu order to be a successful collec-
tor, and only those who arc willing to study
out these minute variations can get the full
pleasure of the pursuit.
THE AUCTION SEASON IN STAMPS will close
with the month of May, and the great sales
held this year show that collectors are using
that method for buying to a larger extent
than ever.
AN ENGLISH PAPER STATES that the cur-
rent adhesives of France have been sur-
charged " Poste Francaise,"fornse of French
offices iu Madagascar. There are nine values.
WALTER BAKER & CO,
The Largest Manufacturers of
PURE, HIGH GRADE
COCOAS AND CHOCOLATES
On thia Continent, have received
HIGHEST AWARDS
from the great
Industrial and Food
EXPOSITIONS
In Europe and America.
TTnlike the Dutch Process, no Alka-
lies or other Chemicals or Dyes are
used in nnv of their preparntionB.
BREAKFAST COCOA is absolutely
and costs less than one cent a cwp.
Th.
pure
delici
and soluble,
SOLD BY GROCERS EVERYWHERE.
WALTER BAKER & CO. DORCHESTER, MASS.
* WONDER CABINET FREE MissinR Link
1i)e, Devil's Bottle. Pocket Camera. Uteat
PiiKle, Spook Photos, Book of Sleigbtof
1 Hand, Total Value GOc. Sent free wilh immcnP*
C catalogue of 1000 B&rgainafor lOc for pos lace.
3lNGERSOLLtBKO.,65Cortlanat Street N. ?.
IVORY 5 GAP
PURE
To cleanse matting, use four tablespoonfuls of Ivory Soap shavings
and a handful of salt to a pailful of warm water. Rub the matting
with a cloth or sponge well squeezed out.
THE PROCTEB & GAMBLE Co . OlH'TL
3 Million, 134 Thousand, 9 Hun-
dred and Thirty-four Packages
sold in 1894, which made 15
Million, 674 Thousand, 7 Hun-
dred and Thirty-five Gallons of
HIRES'
Rootbeer
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MONARCH
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(H. I. KIMBALL, Individual Judge,
Approved :•< Pres't Departmental Committee.
(JOHN BOYD THACHER,
Chairman Exec. Com. on Awards.
543
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HARPEK'S ROUND TABLE
BOY (jerking string}. " COMB, OUT
THERE; WHAT'S THK MATTER WITH vou !"
KITE TALE,
rp KITE.
WITH
SAY, YOU CAN'T TANK ME THAT WAV
MPUNITY."
READINESS OF WIT.
ONE of the best qualities for a boy or a girl to cultivate
is readiuess of wit. To the lad who is thinking of going
iuto some business pursuit quickness to see and meet 'the
ivqiiirfiiicnts of an opportunity is of invaluable importance.
\Ye tind in the (iazettf Aiiecilntiquc a case very much to the
point, and must amusing withal. It seems that in tlio
year 1707, when Philip V. was on his way to Madrid to take
possession of his kingdom of Spain, the inhabitants of
Mont de Marsan came out to meet him at his approach.
The two processions having met about a league from the
town, the Mayor advanced towards the litter in which the
King sat, and addressed him as follows : "Sire, long speeches
are obnoxious and wearisome; I should prefer to sing you
something." Leave was given, and he sang forthwith a
short ode to the King, which so greatly pleased his Maj-
esty that he called out, "Da capo!" (encore). The Mayor
gave his song a second time. The King thanked the sing-
er, and presented him with ten louis d'or. This amount
seemed hardly sufficient to the chief magistrate of Mont de
Marsau, and he therefore promptly held out his empty hand
to the King, and in admirable imitation of the King's
voice, himself called out, "Da capo!" The King laughed
heartily and complied, and the Mayor departed twice as
well off as he would have been had he been less quick-
witted.
FRENCH AND ENGLISH.
THOSE of us who have grown weary and perplexed over
the peculiarities of the French language, and who have
wished that our parents and school-teachers did not con-
sider that language necessary to our education, will rejoice
at this item from an English newspaper, which shows that
the Frenchman has as hard a time mastering our tongue
as we have in mastering his.
According to the story three French boys were studying
a volume of Shakespeare in their own tongue, their task
being to render portions of it into English. When they
came to Hamlet's famous soliloquy, "To be or not to be,"
thrir respective translations were as follows:
1. " To was or not to am."
2. " To were or is to not."
3. " To should or not to will."
AN absent-minded young preacher in New England,
wishing to address the young ladies of his congregation
after the morning services, remarked from the pulpil i li.-ii
he would be very glad if the female brethren of the con-
gregation would remain after they had gone home. He
was almost as badly mixed, the narrator of this story says,
as another speaker, who, after describing a pathetic scene
he had witnessed, added, huskily, "I tell you, brothers,
there was hardly a dry tear in the house."
SERENADING HIMSELF.
WE sometimes think that
the funny situations in the
pictures in the comic papers
are too absurd to be real,
and yet every day there hap-
pen things quite as absurd as
any there depicted. One of
the German newspapers gives
an account of how a steady
old burgomaster recently ser-
enaded himself, which cer-
tainly brings before our
minds a picture quite as
laughable as any we have
seen in print. The story is
to this effect: Herr Notel,
merchant and burgomaster,
who is passionately fond of
singing, is the first tenor and
president of the Schnitzel-
burg glee - club. The clnb
consists of only a single
quartet, but small as is their number, the greater is their
enthusiasm for the songs of Germany. Notel would shortly
celebrate his silver wedding. They must give him a ser-
enade ; there was no help for it. But what was a quar-
tet without the first tenor? There was no getting a
substitute, but for all that they would give Notel a sur-
prise. On the eve of the festal day the three members of
the clnb, armed with lanterns, met at the appointed time
before the house of their respected president, and after
some clearing of throats and twanging of tuning-forks the
mnsic began. A small crowd collected in the street, and
the windows in the vicinity were lined with appreciative
listeners. The Herr Burgomaster and his family also ap-
peared at the windows of their brightly illuminated sitting-
room. The first bars of the well-known song, "Silent
Night," left much to be desired, but the three voices
bravely held on their way amid the surrounding stillness,
and in a few moments Herr Notel went down into the
street and joined in the quartet. No sooner was the
song finished than he ran up stairs again, appeared at the
open window, and in loud clear tones thanked the club for
their ovation. Seen on a public stage, an old gentleman
madly rushing up stairs to a window to thank himself for
serenading himself would cause a good deal of laughter.
ODD ITEMS FROM EVERYWHERE.
IT was a very homely old lady in Scotland who remark-
ed, as she gazed into a looking-glass, that they didn't make
as good mirrors to-day as they did when she was a girl,
because she thought modern looking-glasses made her look
so old.
IT was said to be a Maine man who told an agent for
a cyclopsedia that he didn't want one, because he hadn't
time to learn to ride one, and he didn't wish to risk his
neck trying it, anyhow.
A STORY is told of a grocer engaged in business in a Lon-
don suburb, to the effect that he once declined to attend a
very popular concert even though a free ticket was offered
him. "Ye see," he said to the person who gave him the
ticket, " if I went I'd see so many people who owe me mon-
ey for groceries it would spoil my fun, and the sight o" me
would spoil theirs. I'll stay at home."
HEP.E is a dog story, which you can believe or not as
you please. A gentleman remarked of a friend's dog that
the two eyes of the animal were remarkably different in
size. " Yes," was the reply, " and he takes a mean advan-
tage of the fact whenever I have a stranger to dine with
me. He first gets fed at one side of my guest, and then
goes round the ta,ble to his other side, and pretends to be
another dog."
544
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE Portrait Gallcrj.
, /v.
'H
HARPERS
ROUND TABLE
Cop)-nsht, 1S95, by H»EPBa & BROTHKBS. All RI;hts Reserved.
PUBLISHEtl WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 813.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY. MAY 28. 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A TEATt.
HEROES OF AMERICA.
THE CHARGE AT GETTYSBURG.
BY THE HONORABLE THEODOKE ROOSEVELT.
HE battle of Cliaucellorsville mark-
ed tlie zenith of Confederate good
fortune. Immediately afterwards,
in .June, 1063, Lee led the victori-
ous Army of Northern Virginia
north into Pennsylvania. The
South was now the invader, nut
the invaded, and its heart beat
proudly with hopes of success;
but these hopes went down in
bloody wreck on July 4th, when
•word was sent to the. world that the high valor of Virginia
"had failed at last on the field of Gettysburg, and that in
the far West Vicksburg had been taken by the army of the
•" silent soldier."
At Gettysburg Lee had under him some seventy thou-
sand men, and his opponent, Meade, about ninety thousand.
Both armies were composed mainly of seasoned veterans,
trained to the highest point by campaign after campaign
and battle after battle; and there was nothing to choose
between them as to the fighting power of the lank and
rile. The Union army was the larger, yet most of the time
it stood on the defensive: for the difference between the
generals, Lee and Meade, was greater than could be bridged
by twenty thousand men.
For three days the battle raged. No other battle of re-
cent years has been so obstinate and so bloody. The vic-
torious Union army lost a greater percentage in killed and
wounded than the allied armies of England, Germany, and
the Netherlands lost at Waterloo. Four of its seven corps
suffered each a greater relative loss than befell the \\orid-
renowned British infantry on the day that saw the donm
of the mighty French Emperor. The defeated Confed-
erates at Gettysburg lost relatively as many men as the
defeated French at Waterloo; but whereas the French
army became a mere rabble. Lee withdrew his formidable
soldiery with their courage unbroken, and their lighting
power only diminished by their actual losses in the lieM.
Tln> decisive moment of the bailie, and perha|» of the
whole war, was iu the afternoon of the third day, when
HARPEK'S BOUND TABLE
Lee ''nl forward his choicest troops in a last effort to
l.reak lln- middle of the 1'nioii line. The kernel of the
attacking force' was Picketl's division, (lie ilo\vcr of llic
Virginian inl'.nitr.v. lint many ol her brigades took part in
1 lir assault, and I lie attacking column, all told, iininlicred
ovei lii'tccn ilioiisand men. At the same time Longstreet's
Confederate forces ;it tacked llie I'nion left to create a di-
ver-ion. The attack was preceded by a terrific cannon-
ade. l.ce gal hering one linnilreil and fifteen guns, and open-
ing a terrible lire' on the centre of the Union line. In
response, the Union chief of artillery gathered eighty guns
along on the crest of the gcnth sloping hill where attack
was threatened. For two hours, from one to three, there
was a terrific cannonade, and the lotteries on both sides
suffered severely. In both the Union and Confederate
lines caissons were blown up by the tire, riderless horses
dashed hither and thither, the dead lay in heaps, and
throngs of wounded streamed to the rear, livery man lay
down and sought what cover he, could. It was evident
that the Confederate cannonade was but a prelude to a
great infantry attack, and at three o'clock Hunt, the Union
chief of artillery, ordered the lire to stop, that, the gnus
might cool to be ready for the coining assault. The Con-
federates thought that they hail silenced the Union artil-
lery, anil for a few minutes their tiring continued; then
suddenly it ceased, and there was a lull.
The men on the Union side who were not at the point
directly menaced peered anxiously across the space be-
tween the lines to watch the next move, while the men in
the divisions which it was certain were about to be as-
saulted lay hugging Hie ground and gripping their mus-
kets, excited, but confident and resolute. They saw the
smoke clouds rise slowly above the. opposite crest, where
the Confederate army lay, and the sunlight glinted again
on the long line of brass and iron guns which had been
hidden from view during I he cannonade. In another mo-
ment, out of the lifting smoke there appeared, beautiful
and terrible, the pjcked thousands of the Southern army
advancing to the assault. They advanced in three lines,
each over a mile long, and in perfect order. Pickett's Vir-
ginians held the centre, w ilh on their left the North Caro-
linians of IVmler and Pet t igre w, and on their right the
Alabama regiments of Wilcox ; and there were also Geor-
gian and Tennessee regiments in t he attacking force. Pick-
ett's division, however, was the only one able to press its
charge home.
The Confederate lines came on magnificently. As they
crossed the Emmetsbnrg Pike the eighty nuns on the Union
crest, now cool and in good shape, opeiled upon them, first
with shot and then with shell. Great gaps were made
every second in the ranks, but t he gra\ -clad soldiers closed
up to the centre, and the color-bearers leaped to the front,
shaking and waving the llags. The Union infantry re-
served their fire until the Confederates were within easy
range, when the musketry crashed out with a roar; the big
guns began to fire grape and canister.
On came the Confederates, the men falling by hundreds,
the colors fluttering in front like a little forest; for as fast
as a color-bearer was shot, some one else seized the flag
from his hand before it fell. The North Carolinians were
more exposed to the fire than any other portion of the at-
tacking force, and they were broken before they reached
the line. There was a gap between the Virginians and the
Alabama troops, and this was taken advantage of by Stau-
nard'» Vermont brigade and a demi-brigade under Gates of
the Twentieth New York, who were thrust forward into it.
Stannard changed front with his regiments and attacked
Pickett's forces in flank, and Gates continued the attack.
When thus struck in the flank the Virginians could not
defend themselves, and they crowded off toward the centre,
to avoid the pressure. Many of them were killed or cap-
tured; many of them were driven back; but two of the
brigades, headed by General Armistead, forced their way
forward to the stone wall on the crest, where the Pennsyl-
vania regiments were posted under Gibbon and Webb.
The Union guns fired to the last moment, until of the two
batteries immediately in front of the charging Virginians
every officer but one had been struck. One of the mortal-
ly wounded officers was young Gushing, a brother of the
hero id' I lie .lllifiiHirli' fight. He was almost cut in two, but
holding his body together with one hand, with the other he
tired his last gun, and fell dead, just as Armistead. pressing
forward at the head of his men, leaped the wall, waving his
baton his sword. Immediately afterwards the battlc-tlags
of the 1'oremos.t Confederate regiments crowned the crest ;
but their strength was spent. The Union troops moved
forward with the bayonet, and the remnant of Pickett's
division, attacked on all sides, "either surrendered or retreat-
ed down the hill again. Armistead fell dying by the body
of the dead dishing. Both Gibbon and Webb were wound-
ed. Of Picketl's command two-thirds were killed, wound-
ed, or captured, and every brigade commander and every
field officer save one fell. The Virginians tried to rally,
but were broken and driven again by Gates, while Stannard
repeated at the expense of the Alabamians the movement
he had made against the Virginians, and, reversing his
front, attacked them in flank. Their Hues were torn by
the batteries in front, and they fell back before the Ver-
monters' attack, ami Stannard reaped a rich hancsi of
prisoners and of battle-flags.
The charge was over. It was the greatest charge in any
battle of modern times, and it had failed. It would be im-
possible to surpass the gallantry of those that made it, or
the gallantry of those that withstood it. Had there been
in command of the Union army a general like Grant, it
would have been followed by a counter-charge, and in all
probability the war would have been shortened by nearly
two years; but no counter-charge was made.
As the afternoon waned, a fierce cavalry tight took place
on the Union right. Stuart, the famous Confederate cavalry
commander, had moved forward to turn the Union right,
bnt he was met by Gregg's cavalry, and there followed a
contest at close quarters with " the white arm." It closed
wit h a desperate melee, in which the Confederates, charging
under Wade Hamilton and Fitz-Hngh Lee, were met in
mid-career by the Union Generals Custer and Melntosh.
All four fought, sabre in hand, at the head of their troopers,,
and every man on eaidi side was put into the struggle.
Custer, his yellow hair flowing, his face aflame with the
eager joy of battle, was in the thick of the fight, rising in
his stirrups as he called to his famous Michigan swords-
men, "Come on. you Wolverines, come on!" All that the
Union infantry, watching eagerly from their lines, could
see \\as a vast dust cloud, where flakes of light shimmered
as the sun shone upon the swinging sabres. At last the
Confederate horsemen were beaten back, and they did not
come forward again or seek to renew the combat ; for Pick-
ett's charge had failed, and there was no longer hope of
Confederate victory.
\Vhen night fell the Union flags waved in triumph over
the field of Gettysburg; but over thirty thousand men lay
dead or wounded, strewn through wood and meadow, on
field and hill, where the three days' fight had surged.
.MEMORIAL DAY.
FLUTTER of flag and beat of drum
And the sound of marching feet.
And in long procession the soldiers come
To the call of the bugles sweet.
And the marching soldiers stop at last
Where their sleeping comrades lie,
The men whose battles have long been fought,
Who dared for the laud to die.
Children, quick with your gathered flowers,
Scatter them far and near;
They who were fathers and brothers once
Are peacefully resting here.
Flutter of banner and beat of drum
And the bugle's solemn call,
In grand procession the soldiers come —
And God is over us all!
546
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE CAT SHOW.
BY WALTER CLARK NICHOLS.
AT last the cats have had a show of their own, and for
the time being their old enemies, the dogs, have been
forced to take a back seat, and sulk at the attention which
the '<J50 and more pussies received from the girls and boys
and grown-up people at the Madison Square Garden in
New York. It has been a gala-time for the children, es-
pecially, and the petting which the dift'ereut tabbies re-
ceived would have turned their heads had they not been so
well-bred and aristocratic. For the common tramp cat,
who knows no better than to give unwelcome coucerts on
the back fence at night, or the scraggly kitten, whose one
ambition is rat-catching, had no place among the cats who
made their first pub-lie bow and mieuw a week ago. Only
those whose great grandpapas or grandmammas were dis-
tinguished people in the cat kingdom were allowed to be
exhibited.
After all, the cat kingdom isn't nearly so large as the dog
kingdom. All of our domestic cats are grouped under two
distinct heads — the short-haired European or Western cat,
and the lung-haired Asiatic or Eastern cat. The tortoise-
shell, white, black, blue, or slate-color (Maltese), and the
tabbies are embraced in the European, and the Asiatic in-
cludes the Persian, Angora, Russian, and Indian. So that
it is ever so much easier to learn what class your cat be-
longs in than to know the different kinds of dogs.
What an attractive sight the long rows of dainty cages,
each fitted up in royal fashion for its feline occupant, made!
Here at the beginning of the long row of wire houses,
"Dick," a miniature tiger, slept with ryes half closed (as
every good cat always does), and his right paw outstretch-
ed, as if in his dreams some poor little sparrow were within
clutching distance. Not far away "Charles Dickeus," a
vt-ry aristocratic Maltese, was purring out his compliments
to a little girl who was vainly endeavoring to educate him
to eat peanuts.
Then then- was " Columbia " and her two kittens. " Yale "
and "Harvard." The readers of the KOUND TABLE never
s:i\\ their older brut hers wear their college colors more
bravely than these wee little kittens. Their fawn -col-
ored mother would get them quieted down after some
merry romp, and then they would suddenly begin another
friendly fight, and roll over and over again, till it was im-
possible to tell whether the blue or the red was victorious.
Near by was a " happy family " of short-haired spotted eats
from Elizabeth, New jersey, consisting of a great-grandmo-
ther, grandmother, mother, and seven kittens. And how
proud gentle great -grandmamma was when her grand-
daughter captured the second prize in her class.
Perhaps our President would feel pleased were he to
know how much attention his namesake "Grover Cleve-
land " had at the show. He is a rich, brown tabby,
with wide black stripes, and was given a blue ribbon, the
mark of the first prize. He took it all very calmly, as
much as to say, "You couldn't do anything less for one
with such a name as mine."
But even "Grover Cleveland" was not so aristocratic-
looking as "Grover B.," from Philadelphia. His short-
haired coat was as white as the stone door-steps of the
houses in his native town, and — think of it — his mistress
values him at $1000 ! So well brought up is he that he sits
at the table with his master and mistress in a high chair
and feeds himself with his paw. His master says that he
eats more quietly and gracefully than their little nephew
of five years, who, when he spills his bread and milk, is
told he can profit by " Grover's" example. So fond of him
is his master that his head appears on all his business pa-
per and envelopes, so that "Grover B." is known all over
the world, and, through his pictures on his master's envel-
opes, has travelled more extensively than almost any other
cat.
An even more wonderful short-haired cat was " Mittens,"
who has actually been trained to love and live with birds.
"Mittens" is a great deal of a swell. His grandfather was
a pure-blooded Maltese, and his great-grandmamma was a
very haughty Angora. All the traditions in his family
prompted him to consider birds as his natural prey and
dogs as his enemies. When he came to his present mis-
tress, Mrs. M. L. Ponchez, the latter had two Yorkshire ter-
riers, a parrot, eight canaries, a red-bird, and several cha-
meleons, and of course she thought it would be pretty
difficult for " Mittens" to live in peace with all these other
pets. She thought she would try to teach him to be friend-
ly to the birds and dogs, and this is what she did.
She first kept all of her pets a day without food, and
then the next day placed the cat between the dogs while
she fed him his breakfast. After that the cat and the
dogs became such good friends that they all slept togel her.
At the next meal she took one of the canaries, put him on
her finger, and petted him while she held "Mittens" in her
lap and fed him. This she did several times, and then let
all of the birds fly around the cat. The latter never at-
tempted to touch one, and frequently to-day you may see
"Mittens" slumbering peacefully before the fire, with a
canary nestled on the soft fur of his back.
While there were many more short-haired cats on exhi-
bition for prizes, the long-haired ones created more atten-
tion because they are much less common. They had a sep-
arate room to themselves upstairs, and a band of music
played for them lest they should forget that many of them
were descended from cat emperors and princes in the far-
otf East. There was " Ajax," a white Angora, with firm
mouth and keen eyes, his fluffy white mane looking like a
lion's, every inch of him a king. There was "Paderew-
ski," blue-ribboned, with longer and thicker hair than the
famous musician whose name he bears. Near by an inter-
ested crowd watched "Ellen Terry'' and her seven kittens.
"Ellen" is a large white and orange Angora, and very
cozy were she and her kittens in a basket lined with yel-
low silk and trimmed with dotted muslin. Her manners
vere perfect, for whenever her cunning little kittens were
ra reused she showed no surprise, but looked on with calm
maternal pride.
Just to show by contrast how very aristocratic these
long-haired cats were, six or eight lost cats from the
Shelter for Animals (where lost and homeless cats are
cared for) were exhibited near the haughty Angoras. All
but one looked sadly out of place. They were thin, their
fur was uneven, and the disdainful sniffs which their Per-
sian and Angora neighbors gave them made them feel very
miserable indeed. But one of them, though, a short-haired
cat, looked as if his grandfather had been a somebody in
the cat kingdom, and he seemed to say,
"Thoiigh appearances are against me, please don't think
that I belong to this vulgar herd of tramp cats."
And he was vindicated, for the third day of the show a
little girl came rushing over to the cage with a glad cry
of recognition, which the cat immediately responded to by
joyful purring. The cat had been lost for over two weeks,
and now as his young mistress took him away he looked
back at his proud long-haired neighbors with a smile,
which meant,
"Ah, you see I'm somebody, after all!"
Perhaps the readers of the ROUND TABLE would like to
know whether their cats and kittens are "somebody "or
not, whether they are pure-blooded examples of the classes
to which they belong. It is quite simple. A prominent
doctor, who knows more about cats than almost any other
man in the United States, says that in .judging a cat the
first thing to be considered is its general symmetry.
"The body ought to be long and slenderly shaped, like
that of a tiger. The eyes should he of a correct shade ;
for instance, a cat that is white should have blue eyes, a
black cat yellow eyes, and so on. The eyes, too, should be
round and full. The color of a cat is important, and is the
key to its character. A cat of one color should have no
other hue in its coat. The most rarely marked cat is the
tortoise-shell, uneven patches of red, black, and yellow,
equally distributed over the body. In the tabbies the
dark markings should be in direct contrast with the light,
gray or brown being marked with black, while blue is
marked with some darker shade, and yellow with red."
So successful was this first cat show that it is almost
settled that another one will be held next fall. A cat club
547
IN THE LONG-HAIRED CAT-ROOM.
is to lie formed, .as exclusive as some of the kennel clubs to
which the fits' canine enemies belong. So that hereafter
when a proud-loiikiug Angora goes to call on a Maltese
friend, the question no longer will be: "How many birds
have .you killed lately?" or, "How do you find your milk
these days?" But as the pussies purr in good-fellowship
together, you will hear them ask each other (if you can
understand the cat language)," Are you going to the club
this evening?" and "Shall I see you at the 'show' next
fall f"
JOYS OF THE STEAMSHIP HUNT.
BY WILLIAM HEMMINGWAY.
THE sport of steamship-hunting is the finest I ever en-
joyed. It has more, excitement in it than any other
I have ever heard of. If yon catch your ship properly you
are happier than the slayer of many lions; if you don't
catch her — well, there are some possibilities too shiverish
to think about.
Of course the kind of steamship-hunting I mean is the
game instituted by the big newspapers in such a case as
that of I. ii (iiixmi/iic. when recently she was eleven days
overdue from Havre because one of her piston-heads broke
down. This game is played with a tug-boat, a full equip-
ment of night - glasses, and a great amount of patience.
Just think of how important the results are! Within the
ci]Tiiii of New York, Boston, Buffalo, and Washington — the
territory wherein New York newspapers are chiefly taken
— there are at least ten millions of readers, all anxious for
every scrap of news of the missing ship. Hundreds of
these people have friends or relatives on board, but every
one of I he vast number is equally eager to hear of the ship's
.-al'e arrival, and all about the reason for her lateness.
If the lion-hunter's rifle misses tire he loses his life, but
if the steamship-hunter misses his game he loses most of
his good name and all of his employment. Imagine, then,
the studious skill he devotes to sweeping the wide field of
ocean with his glasses. He knows that half a dozen other
tug-loads of reporters are out on the same errand, and that
it' any of them "beat" him he'd better sail right down into
Davy Jones's locker and lock it from the inside.
The' ing of a N'ew York paper went down to the Quaran-
tine' station at Stateu Island on that very cold Friday even-
ing three days before La Gascogne was heard from. She
was then eight days overdue. Three reporters and an artist
were aboard the tug. They called at the telegraph office
at Quarantine, and learned that nothing had been heard of
the French ship from Sandy Hook or Fire Island. The
only thing to do was to go down to the entrance of the
Harbor and wait and hope — especially hope. Just before
the steamship-hunters left the snug warm telegraph office
the instruments began to sputter. The operator in the
Sandy Hook tower was saying.
" Wind blowing fifty^six miles an hour from the N. \V."
Two wise men, who had been to sea a few times, insisted
on staying several miles inside of Sandy Hook, but the
other man insisted a great deal harder on going. Off we
went, after a very short debate. The wind rattled the
pilot-house windows, and if the door fell ajar a moment
the breeze nearly whipped it off and blew it away. The
bay was covered with floating ice. There were some cakes
almost as big as a city block, and some looked tiny enough
to put in a glass of water; but most of them were as long
and wide as the deck of a big canal-boat. Every time
one of the big fellows crunched against our bow we
couldn't help wondering whether it was coming through.
The moon flooded the vast field of white, and made it look
as if we were sailing over a great prairie. Now and then
we came to patches of clear blue water, and these danced
iu the moon's rays like giant turquoises. The tug's con-
densed steam rolled and bounded along, seeming like great
masses of ivory. The intense cold caused this curious
effect. Everything was fairylike, except the harsh grind-
ing and carmonlike thumps of the ice.
Off the point of Sandy Hook we were almost clear of ice.
Nobody could see anything that looked like a steamship
coining from the eastward. The ice had kept the water
quiet, but here in the open it was heaving and pitching
under the lash of the gale. We ran into the Horse-
shoe inside of Sandy Hook, trying to get up to the landing,
so th ;i t if we hail very late uews to send we could telegraph
ii from Sandy Hook, instead of Quarantine, which was an
hour to the north of us. Ice was packed and jammed so
thick and tight inside the Horseshoe that not even an
icicle could be pushed into it. After our tug narrowly
escaped being caught and held fast for the night we backed
out. No use trying to laud.
548
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"Mast-Iiead light to the east'cl !" sang out onr skipper
as we rounded the point of the Hook. Has your heart ever
begun to dance at the sight of a school of bluefisli when
you were running down toward them with four squids
trailing from your cat-boat? Have you ever heard a deer
coiue crashing through the thicket toward your rifle?
Imagine us, then, when we heard those words. Every
man whipped out a night-glass, or waited eagerly for his
neighbor's. A speck of yellow light ou the horizon crawled
slowly up the blue sky.
"She's a liner," said our captain. "The ice and the
hurricane have sent all the channel buoys adrift" (you know
the ship channel is lighted with electric lamps like Fifth
Avenue), "so her pilot will anchor outside."
Away went the tug at full speed. The yellow mast-head
light kept growing higher, like a meteor going backward.
Soon we could distinguish the dim white shape of a giant
steamship. As she came nearer we saw that she was ice-
coated from the water-line to one hundred feet above the
deck. The lights glowed and twinkled out of the cabin
ports like the candles shining out of the white churches we
used to have when we were little boys. The big ship an-
chored not far from the Sandy Hook Lightship (six miles
out on the Atlantic). Our Captain knew her for the Teu-
tonic as readily as you would know your father in the
street. On account of the- high waves we dared not go
within one hundred feet, for fear of
being dashed against the steamship's
side. Our tug's bow swung up in the
wind, and we began a conversation with
the officer ou the Teutonics bridge,
our words shooting back and forth across
fifty yards of icy wind that sped be-
tween us at the rate of fifty-six miles
an hour. The Teutonic had no news of
La Gascognc.
On that Monday afternoon when the
telegraph-operator in Fire Island tower
reported the missing Guxmyin> approach-
ing his station, our -tug started nut
again. The many weary and fruitless
nights of watching and cruising were
all forgotten. The searchers hurried
through dinner in the galley, and drank
big mugs of coffee in gulps. Every one
was too happy to stay long at any thing.
I never knew the distance between the
Battery and the outer light-ship to be so
long. From here, at last, we spied a
glimmer of red on the sky-line. If en-
thusiasm burned, there wouldn't have
been a lens left in one of those glasses.
Men perched ou the top of the pilot-house
to see better.
'• That's the Gascoi/ne — three red lights
at the mast-head — going under repairs,"
cried the mate, from the loftiest perch.
Every minute dragged outrageously
nutil we got alongside of the steamship.
Nothing in her appearance except the
three red lights indicated that anything
was wrong. She was moving slowly —
only eight miles an hour. We ran un-
der her stern, and got alongside her lee
bow. Groups of passengers gathered
along the rails, although it was uow very
near midnight. They cheered the men
who came so far to welcome them. An
officer on the bridge told of the accident
in a dozen words. Through one of the
ports we could see a blue-jacketed stew-
ard polishing a plate.
"Has Faure formed a cabiuet yet?"
shouted one passenger.
The answer we gave him was lost in
the chorus of cheers. Some one weighted
a copy of the ship's log. and threw it
aboard our tug.
But while all this was very pleasant, it was not enough.
The ship's officers promised to lower a companion-ladder
for our men to go aboard.
. A long wait. No ladder. Onr own skipper solved the
problem by ordering his men to throw up a twenty-foot
wooden ladder — a fragile thing. Such roars in English
and counter-roars in French as there were while that laddi-r
was being arranged!
"Take a couple of bights of that line, and make it fast
on the third rung, you three-fingered blacksmith !" yelled
our mate.
The Frenchmen guessed what he meant. At last the lad-
der was up, resting ou our deck, and its end scraping the
Gascoync's side. There was great danger that at any mo-
ment the top end might catch on an iron plate as onr roll-
ing tug pushed it upward. Then the great weight of the
tug would crush the ladder into matchwood. No matter;
that was one of the nerve-tickling details of the newspaper
steamship hunt. Up ran two reporters and an artist, one
after the other, while men stood by to throw them life-
buoys if the ladder should be smashed.
But they got aboard all right. Afterward came the in-
terviewing, the hurried writing of copy, the telegraphing
from a secret place in Staten Island out of the reach of
news thieves; but all that is the mere recital of how we
carried home onr game.
ONE OF THE NERVE-TICKLING DETAILS OF THE HUNT.
549
HARPEK'S EOUND TABLE
THE YOUNG BEACH-COMBERS OF
MONMOUTH.
BY AGNES CARR SAGE.
SAY lie sha'n'i come in!''
"Ainl I I rll \ou he sliull!"
The boys' voices rose high anil angry: their attitude was
threatening; .-mil :il tin- sound of contention a Levy of other
barefooted urchins came scampering over the damp sand,
shouting, " Ili! a scrap, a scrap!" and eager to see fair
play.
••What's it all about?" inquiredNed Eaton, a good-look-
ing youth, rather better dressed than his companions.
"It's ahotit little. Jem Ferguson," spoke up the shorter
and stockier of the belligerents. "Kit Bnudy here says
he oughtn't to he let into the beach-combing, and I hold
it's mean us eramp-lish to bar him out just, because he's
weak and pindlin' and no account in a boat."
"So it is, so it is." chorused the listening youngsters.
But Kit put in quickly, "All right, let him iu then ; but
if you do he'll hoodoo every mother's son of us. Who
killed the luck bird last June?"
" Not Jem," cried Herbert Woolley.
" No ; but his daddy did, and if he had been drinking too
much hard cider at the time, that makes no diiference, and
the whole family has had a powerful sight of bad fortune
ever since. Jest two weeks after their cow choked to
death with a green apple: Jem's hip trouble grew worse;
and Jake Smithers told me that the smack in which Dan
Ferguson sails is snre to come back with a light haul.
The men all look on him as a Jonah, for fish don't come to
the nets of those who take the life of a hawk."
"Well, but ill-luck can't be inherited, like consumption
or the shape of one's nose," protested Herbert, "and even
if it could, Jem's having a bit of sand to sift couldn't affect
the rest of us."
Still the boys glanced at each other doubtfully, and one
muttered. "We'll each have more ground, and so more
chance, it' he isn't there," while Kit clinched his argument
by declaring, "Oh, if Bert has his way we all may as well
give up all hope of winning that," pointing, as he spoke, to
a flaring yellow poster which adorned one of the bathing-
houses.
ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS!!!
was the heading, in conspicuous capitals two inches long,
and below this amount was offered, iu smaller type, as a
reward for the return of a diamond earring lost by one of
the summer visitors in r.enton, the pretty New Jersey vil-
lage where these lads lived, and which was a quasi-fash-
ionable sea-side resort for three mouths of the year. Now,
however, the broad white beach was given into the hands
of those young natives who in the early fall make a busi-
ness of going carefully over it, rubbing the iridescent sand
between their lingers, and seeking for any articles there
lost and hidden during the gay warm season.
In grim silence, then, the boys re-read the advertisement
which all knew by heart, and Ned Eaton suggested, " Let's
take a vote. Those who want Limpy Jem to have a show
drop a white shell in my hat, and those who are for freez-
ing him out a purple one."
"Yes, yes, that is a good way; that will be fair." And
the members of this hastily formed Beach-Comber's Union
turned aside with relief 1o select their ballots from the
deep-sea treasures cast up by the bobbing foam-capped
waves.
Five minutes later, then, the polls were open, and Kit
looked triumphant and Bert annoyed as both noted that
the majority of the voters were endeavoring to conceal
dark mussel-shells in their brown little fists. There was
no doubt that Jem's fate was sealed, when suddenly a faint
shout attracted their attention, and all started at sight of
a slender auburn-haired lassie speeding toward them from
the direction of the village. "Gee whizz, but it's Eileen
Ferguson !" .shrieked small Teddy Todd, "and her temper
is as liery as her curly mop."
Certainly there was a dangerous flash in her big gray
eyes and a sharp ring in her young voice as, coming nearer,
she cried : " So, Kit Bundy, you are playin'the snake in the
grass ;m:iin, are you ? You never did like my brother, and
now 1 liear you are tryin' to have him put out of the heaeh-
eotnliiii'. Poor Jemmy, who is too sickly to go to the lishin'-
hanks. and has so looked forward to the fall in hoi.es of
earnin' a few dollars for the mither! I should think ye'd be
ashamed of yourself! Dicksou, the bathiu'-inaster, tonld
me how \ou wre talkiii' to the others: but you won't mind
him. will" you, boys ?" And there was that in the appeal-
in^, half tearful glance which the earnest little sister turned
upon them that made most of her hearers look sheepish, and
become deeply absorbed iu stirring up the sand with their
toes.
But Kit was furious. "What ?" he roared; "be dictated
to by a girl? Not if I know our combers. Go on, fellows,
and Mile as you intended; -while, Miss Impudence, the
sooner you take yourself off the better."
Instinctively, however, Eileen turned to young Woolley.
"Oh, Bert, Bert!" she wailed, "don't let them throw my
Jemmy out. He has had such a dreadful summer, and this
— this will break his heart. We need the money so much,
and uiver did he dream his old friends could treat him
so." Then all at ouce her wrath dissolved in a girlish
burst of tears.
" Pepper me if lean stand that, bad luck or not, "grow led
Ned, hurriedly picking up a white shell and Hinging it into
the hat; and as boys, like older people, ate very much
akin to a flock of sheep, the majority followed suit, and
Jem Ferguson was, as in former years, numbered with the
beach-combers, the three purple shells cast by Kit and two
of his chums not being sufficient to rule him out.
"A thousand thanks, boys! You are blissid darlints, ivery
one of ye — barriu' that trio," exclaimed Eileen, who. though
American horn, ill moments of excitement sometimes be-
trayed her ancestry by her speech.
When, then, on the morning of September 18th, the comb-
ers gathered to commence operations, one of the happiest
faces there was that of little " Limpy," hopping briskly
along on his crutches, and nodding gay greetings to his old
comrades. They found the beach evenly measured off and
divided by stakes. The plan of the lads of Benton was
to draw lots for their respective portious,a strict though
unwritten law being that no one should poach upon an-
other's grounds.
" See, Kit, you and I are neighbors," said Jem, cordially,
to young Bundy. " Aud such fine sections as we have !
right in front of the great Naiad Hotel. We have a good
chance for the diamond. Oh, but don't I wish I could
find it !"
But Kit only growled something about "luck-bird-kill-
ers" under his breath, and strode away to his own pre-
serve. Always rather a leader among his companions, he
was chagrined by his defeat, and felt injured and annoyed
by the cripple's presence.
As the day wore on, however, he found it difficult to keep
up his antagonism to cheery Jem, who ignored all rebuffs,
and chatted away in the most friendly as well as quaint
manner — now about the sea, wondering why it changed its
hue from blue to green and green to gray ; and now about
the fish-hawks circling overhead, and longing to be one of
them, that he too might fly off to some warm Southern land
before the cold, biting winter came on.
"What a queer uu you are!" remarked Kit at length.
" What makes yon think of such things 1 Why, I'd a heap
rather be a boy than a bird."
" Yes, 'cause you are so big and strong. You can make your
way in the world, and your back isn't crooked, and your
legs all drawed up. Now I, you see, am neither flesh nor
fowl nor good red herring," and Jem cackled a feeble little
laugh, but without a tinge of bitterness. How, too, he en-
joyed the lunch eaten on the beach, and insisted that ev-
ery one must taste the pie Eileen had made for him out of
" two penaties and a bit of a lemon."
For three da\s tlie weather was perfect, and the comb-
ers " made hay while the sun shone," gathering quite a
profitable collection of old iron and nails, children's toys,
small coins; and inexpensive pins-and pieces of jewelry,
while Bert Woolley had the good fortune to come upon a
550
HARPER'S BOUND TABLE
silver watch little the worse for its sojourn iu the damp
sand.
But on the fourth morning there came a change. Heavy
clouds obscured old Sol from view, the sea roared with a
lo\v ominous undertone, and the wind blew r;i\v and chill
from the northeast, making the lads shake and shiver, and
seeming to freeze weakly Jem to the very marrow and set
bis limbs to aching. Then in the night the storm broke,
one of those fierce September gales which often sweep the
coast, and for forty-eight hours roared and raged without,
while the impatient urchins grumbled and raged within.
It was an exceedingly wet world that at last emerged,
bright and glistening, after the deluge, but Kit Bundy
•was early astir and down on the shore to see what havoc
the tempest had made. Dead fish, drift-wood, portions of
wrecks, and other flotsam and jetsam strewed the beach, up
which he slowly sauntered, kicking before him a round
stone that bounded merrily across the sand. Presently, in
front of the Naiad Hotel, a particularly vigorous kick sent
it high in air, and then landed it in a deep hollow worn by
the waves. Mechanically Kit paused to lift his impro-
vised plaything from the hole, when something beside it.
caused him to fall on his knees with a low stifled gasp.
Not another sound escaped him, but there was a. ue\v and
curious expression on his face when he finally rose ami al-
most ran to the boarding-house he and his father called
"home." Later in the day the long line of beach-combers
were electritied by the message that passed from mouth to
mouth, " Kit is the lucky one ; he has found the diamond
earring."
From far and near the boys hastened to behold the
jewel, about which there could not have been more interest
had it beeu the Koh-i-noor itself, and thefinderhad to point
out just where he discovered it in his section, deeply buried
a foot from the surface.
"Not so dreadfully hoodooed after all, were you, Kit .'"
Bert could not resist remarking; but most of the lads
swallowed their own disappointment, and congratulated
him warmly, while Jem threw his hat in the air, piping,
" Hip, hip, hurrah for Bnndy, the prize-winner !"
But the hero of the hour did not appear particularly
pleased with these attentions. He grew very red, and
turned away, muttering. "Oh, shut up, fellows! It isn't
worth inakiu' such a fuss over."
"Just hear the Rothschild," squeaked Teddy Todd.
"One would think he picked up gems every day iu the
year. I shouldn't be so grumpy if I had had his luck."
"Which he dou't deserve," said outspoken Eileen, who
had come down to gather drift-wood. "Oh dear! how un-
equal things are in this world! If Jem had but drawn that
side of the stake instead of the other, we would be fairly
spinuiu' with the joy, and whiskin' him off to the best
doctor iu the county. Poor lamb! he scarce slept a wink
last night, with the pain iu his hip, and oughtn't to be out
here to-day."
Aud the next morning Jem was missing, his sister com-
ing to fill his place, and, with her ready Irish wit, parrying
all the boys' jokes on "the first girl comber of Monmouth."
But from that time the interest in the, beach -combing
flagged, and the work soon came to an end.
One afternoon, not long after, a youth, conspicuously
conscious of his Sunday clothes and stift' collar, rang tin1
bell of a handsome New York residence, the shining door-
plate of which bore the name, " J. C. Landon, M.D." He
was admitted by a supercilious colored boy in buttons, \\lio,
ushering him into a luxuriantly furnished office, told him
to "Wait, the doctor was engaged at present." And he did
wait a full half-hour before the physician emerged from an
inner apartment, accompanied by a lady who gently sup-
ported a youug girl, richly attired, and with long fair hair
floating on her shoulders, but who limped painfully, and iu
whose sweet face was an expression of suffering that some-
how reminded Kit — for Kit it was — of Jem Ferguson.
"Yes, yes, Mrs. Graham." Dr. Landon was saying. ''I see
no reason why Miss Ethel should not walk without crutches
in time. Science works wonders nowadays. She would get
on faster if you could consent to let her go to my sanitarium,
but since you are unwilling, I will visit her often and do
the best I am able; while I can at least promise that there
will soon be no more of the neuralgia that causes such ex-
cruciating agony." With which he bowed his visitors out,
and. returning, asked briskly, " Well, my lad, what can I do
for you ? You dou't look like an invalid."
" No, sir; I'm pretty hearty," responded Kit, with a grin.
•'I came because — because I have found this, "and without
further words he produced a small box and opened it.
"My wife's lost earring! Why, she will be overjoyed!"
exclaimed the physician. "But I shall have to turn you
over to her, as I am due at the hospital, and haven't a mo-
ment to spare. Here, Xero, ask Mrs. Landou to step down
to the om'ce." Aud without more ado the busy man hurried
off, leaving the confused and stammering Kit to the tender
mercies of the mistress of the mansion.
But these proved very delightful, for not only did the
lady shower him with graceful thanks, but ordered up a
dainty little collation for bis refreshment, which he ate to
the sound of the surgeon's praises as sung by Nero, who
declared his master to be " De berry bestest doctah in all
de United States. Why, sab, he kin mos' raise de dead,
and I 'low he makes de lame to walk ebery day, and links
iiottiu' obit"; and, when he finally left the house, it was
with a fat roll of greenbacks snugly tucked in his pocket.
This was the hour to which Christopher Bundy had been
looking forward, and he proceeded to make the most of it.
Of course he. went to the theatre, and from a high gallery
seat glowed and shivered in sympathy with the hero on
the boards, and he followed this up with an oyster-stew in
a gayly decorated and illuminated restaurant. But, strange
to say, he was not as happy as he should have been, and, —
it was very queer — the features of'Limpy Jem "would
keep rising before him, curiously intermingled with those
of the lame girl he had seen that day, while he seemed to
hear again a weak voice piping, "That's because you are
so big and strong, and your back isn't, crooked and your
legs all drawn up." " I must have the vapors," he con-
cluded, as he tumbled into Led.
The following evening, when Kit stepped off the train at
llenton, he was met by a delegation of beach - combers, all
shouting: "Hullo, old fellow! Did you get the reward,
sure enough? Goin' to stand treat now, ain't yer? Ginger-
pop and sodas for the crowd!" and insisted upon bearing
him off to drink his health at his expense.
" Wish poor Limpy was here too," remarked Ned Eaton,
as he drained his glass of sarsaparilla. "Does any one
know how he is to-night ?"
"Dreadful bad." answered Teddy Todd. "They think
he's dyiu'."
" What ! Is he so sick as that ?" and Kit's voice sounded
sharp and unnatural.
"Yes; he took cold that day before the storm ; fever set
in, and the doctor says he won't get well."
It was nine o'clock, and the little seaside town was set-
tling down to sleepy repose, when a timid knock summoned
Eileen to the Fergusons' humble portal. Her eyes were
red and swollen, as could be seen by the blazing pine-knot
she carried, and her lips quivered as she cried : '• Kit Buudy
at this hour! What brings you here?"
"To see Jem. Stop, Eileen! Don't say I can't, for I
must, indeed I must. I know I've beeu mean to him and
rude to you, but there is something I must tell him before
he dies."
There was so much wild anxiety in his manner and
imploring in his tone that the curt refusal on the girl's
tongue was hushed, and instead she Baid, "Come, then ; only
don't stay long," and led the way to the dreary room where
Jem lay. A wan smile flitted across his face at Muht of
his guest, and he murmured:
'• Howdy, Kit ; do you know, I guess I'll get my wish,
after all, and fly away like the hick-bird.s."
Wil h a low cry, however, the older lad threw himself down
beside the bed, and sobbed : •• No, no, Limpy : don't say that.
You must stop and be comfortable and happy here, lor see,
this isyeurs.all yours"; and he flung upon the patchwork
quilt the roll of bills paid him by Mrs. Laudou.
Jem gasped. " What a big, big lot of money! It's the
551
THEN JEM WHISPERED: "POOR KIT! BUT I'M GLAD YOU'VE TOLD ME."
reward, isn't it — the reward for the diamond ? But you
mustn't give it to nie."
•• It belongs to you. I never liad any right to the dia-
mond, for — for I found it on your side of the stake, and
buried it in my part of the Ijeacb."
After this confession there was dead silence for a mo-
ment. Then ,Jrin whispered: "Poor Kit! But I'm glad
you've told me."
"So am I; though the beach-combers wijl hiss me out
of their company when they know. Here's the hundred
and fifty dollars, however, every penny of it; and you,
Eileen, must spend it all for your In-other"; and he thrust
the greenbacks into thai astonished maiden's hands.
But Jemmy protested with all his feeble strength. "I
cannot, I will not take it all," he said. "Yon were the
finder, even if it was in my portion of sand. But we will
divide, half for you and half for me, and then the other
fellows need never know. It shall be our secret." And as
he was growing dangerously excited, to this arrangement
Kit had to consent.
Before leaving, though, he told the sick boy .and his sister
of the marvellous cures Dr. Landon was said to have made,
and of the fair cripple he had seen in his office, concluding
with, "Now, Jem, if you could go to his hospital, mebbe
science would work some of those wonders on you."
••oh, if he could, if he only could !" sighed Eileen.
Hope, however, is a great restorative, and the following
day Jem was stronger than he had been for some time,
which encouraged Kit to take another trip to New York,
where he astonished Dr. Landou by suddenly appearing
before him and demanding, "Tell me, sir, is seventy-live
dollars enough to put a chap iu your hospital and get him
cured ?"
"Well, that depends, "laughed Dr. Landou, much amused1.
"Who is this chap, and what is his trouble?"
As concisely as possible the boy told the story of lame
Jem, but so interesting the kindly physician that he rail'
down to Benton expressly to see the case, and the result
was the new year found the young invalid established in a
great airy ward, where the sunshine sifted in through a
beautiful lattice-work of window plants, and cheery, bright-
faced attendants were ready to answer every call and supply
every want.
"It seems like Paradise," said Jem, nestling among the-
soft pillows, and that proved a truly blissful winter, in spite
of some pain and discomfort he had to endure, while he
made life-long friends of Mrs. Landon and Mrs. Graham,
who paid him frequent visits, and brought him lovely flow-
ers and delicious fruit from the fair-haired Ethel.
And at. length, wheu the spring-time came over the
land, Bert Woolley and Kit Buudy one evening helped off
the cars a very pale but very radiant lad, while the former
said,
•• See. Limpy, there are all the beach-combers coming to
welcome you home."
Cordially the rough youths crowded about their young
comrade, healed and restored as though by a miracle, and
shook him warmly by the hand, wondering to see in a slight
limp the only trace of his former lameness. But the throng
parted as an auburn head suddenly flashed through their
midst, and Eileen, throwing her arms around her brother,
cried :
" Oh, Jem, Jem! this is the happy day for sure — to see yott
walking on your own two feet, while the father has signed
the pledge, and a pair of luck-birds are building their nest
iu the big pine-tree right forniust our door."
552
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
BY KIRK M U N R O E.
CHAPTER XXV.
SERGE DISCOVERS A CURIOUS CAVERN.
AT the, point where our travellers had again struck the
Yukon, nearly 1500 miles from its month, it was still a
mighty stream two miles wide. Above, this they found it
hounded on both sides by mountains that often approached
to its very waters, where, in sheer precipices hundreds of
feet high, they found gigantic palisades, similar to those of
the Hudson, which are known as the "tipper Ramparts. "
On the lower river the sledge party had journeyed over a
smooth surface, on which were fe\v obstructions. Their
course from Anvik had at first been due north, then north-
east, then east, and was now due south, the source of the
Yukon towards which they were now travelling being some
ten degrees south of its great arctic bend.
Owing to this, they now found themselves confronted
by the hardest kind of sledging over rough hummocky ice
that was often piled in chaotic ridges twenty and thirty
feet high. As the river freezes first at its most northerly
point, and this belt of solid ice is gradually extended south,
or back toward its source, the floating cakes of its upper
reaches, borne by the swift current, are piled on the ever-
advancing barrier in confused masses that stretch across
the river like windrows.
In the spring, when the ice breaks up and is hurled irre-
sistibly down stream on the swollen current, the same ef-
fect is reproduced on a vastly increased scale. Then the
upper river breaks first, and a sudden rise of water from
some great tributary starts the ice over the still solid bar-
rier below. The huge cakes slide, jam, push, and crash
over the still unbroken ice sheet, until they are piled in a
vast gleaming mass seventy or eighty feet in height, from
a quarter of a mile to one mile in length, and extending
from bank to bank.
This mighty gorge must give way at length, and when it
does it goes with a roaring fury that is terrifying and
grand beyond description. After grinding and tearing on-
ward for several miles, or perhaps less than one, the
furious impulse is again checked by another solid barrier,
which must in turn be broken down and swept away, its
added weight giving increased energy to the mighty force.
So the ice crashes its resistless way down the whole Yu-
kon Valley to Bering Sea,t\vo thousand miles distant, sweep-
ing everything before it, mowing down vast areas of forest,
submerging islands, tearing out banks, and leaving every-
where traces of its terrible progress in the shape of huge
ice cakes, weighing many tons, stranded high above ordi-
nary water level.
Although Phil Ryder and his companions were not to
witness this grand exhibition of one of nature's mightiest
forces, they were sadly inconvenienced and delayed by the
uncomfortable fashion in which their frozen highway had
been constructed some mouths earlier. If they could have
left the river and followed along its banks, they would have
done so; but this was out of the question, not only on ac-
count, of their rugged character, but because on their tim-
bered portions the snow lay many feet in depth, while from
the river it had been so blown by strong north winds that
for long stretches the ice was barely covered. This en-
abled the sledge men to walk without snow-shoes, which
was a great comfort to all three, but especially to Jalap
Coombs, who had not yet learned to use the netted frames
with "ease and fluency," as Phil said.
To this light-hearted youth the sight of bis sailor friend
wrestling with the difficulties of inland navigation as
FOR A SINGLE MINUTE THEY GAZED IN BREATHLESS AWE.
553
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
practised in arctic regions afforded :i never-failing source
of mirlli. A single glance at .Jalap's lank ligure enveloped
in I'ui's. \\ i 111 his weather-beaten f:irr peering fnpin tin- re-
eessea <pf :i hair-fringed licpoil. was enough at any lime 1"
make 1'hil laugh. Jalap on snow -shoes lliat. in spite c,l' .-ill
liis efforts, would slide ill c\crv dircrlioii lint tin; our de-
sired, ami .lalap gazing at a frcpsly world llmmjjli :i pair of
wooden snow-gobies, were sights that even sober-sided
101111(1 hllllKPI'olls.
Itnl funniest (if all was to sec Jalap drive a dog-team
'I'his he was now obliged to do. for. while they still had
three sledv.es. I h.'\ had heen unable IIP procure any Indians
at Forty Mile to lake the places of Knrilla and Cliitsnh. So
\vhilc 1'hil, who was now an expert in the art of dog-driv-
ing. .-Mid could handle a six yard whip like a native, took
turns with Seme in breaking I he road. Jalap was always
allowed lo bring up the rear. Ilisdov,* had nothing I" feai
from the whip, except, indeed, when it tripped him up so
that he fell on lop of them, but they cringed and whined
beneath die torrent of incomprehensible sen, terms inces-
santly poured forth hy the strange master, who talked to
them as though they were so many Inhherly sailors.
'• Port your helium ! Hard a-porl !" he would roar to tbe
acc pa n iment of flying chunks of ice that he could throw
with amazing certainty of aim. Then," Steady! So! Start
a sheet and give her a rap full. Now keep her so! Keep
her so! D'ye hear? Let her fall off a fraction of a p'iut
and I'll rake ye fore and aft. Now, then, bullies, pull all to-
gether. Yo-ho, heave! Nosojeriug! Ah, you will, will ye.
\e furry sea-cook! Then take that, and stow it in your
bread-locker. Shake your hay-seed and climb — cliiiili. I
tell ye. A\ast heaving!" And so on, hour after hour,
while the dogs would jump and pull and tangle their " run-
ning rigging, "as Jalap named the trace- thongs, and the two
boys would shout with laughter.
But while the journey thus furnished something of mer-
riment, it was also filled with tribulations. So bitter was
the cold that their bloodless lips were often too stiff for
laughter or even for speech. SIP rough was the way, that
I hex rarely made more than eight or ten miles in a day of
exhausting labor. Several dogs broke their legs amid the
chaotic ice blocks of the ever-recurring ridges, and had to
be shot. Along the palisaded Kamparts it was difficult to
find timbered places in which to camp. Their dog feed
was running low, and there was none to be had in the
wretched native villages that they passed at long inter-
vals.
At length the setting sun of one evening found them at
a point w here the river, narrowed to a few hundred yards,
was bounded on one side by a lofty precipice of rock, and
on the other by a steeply sloping bank that, devoid of tim-
ber, seemed to descend from an open plateau. They halted
beside a single log of drift that, half embedded in ice, was
the only available hit of firewood in sight. It was a bleak
and bitter place ill which to spend an arctic night, and they
shivered in anticipation of what they were to suffer during
its long hours.
" 1 am fioinv, to climb to the top of the bank, "said Scr^e,
"and see if I can't find some more wood. If I do, I'll roll it
down ; so look out!"
Suiting his action to his words the active lad started
with a run that carried him a few yards up the steep
ascent. It was so abrupt that he was on the point of slid-
ing back, and dug his feet sharply into the snow to secure
a hold. At the same instant he uttered a cry, threw up his
arms, and dropped from the sight of his astonished eniii-
I ions as though he had fallen down a well.
Before they could make a move toward his rescue they
were more astounded than ever to hear his voice, somewhat
muffled, hilt apparently close beside them.
"I'm all right!" he cried, cheerily. "That is, I think I
am, and I believe I can cut my way out. Don't try to
climb the bank. Just wait a minute."
Then the bank began to tremble as though shaken by a
gentle earthquake, and suddenly a hand clutching a knife
shot out from it so close to Jalap Coombs that the start h-d
sailor leaped back to avoid it, stumbled over a sledge, and
plunged headlong among his own team of dogs, who were
hini; in the snow beyond, patiently waiting to he unhar-
nessed. l!y the time the yelling, howling riiass of man and
doits was disentangled and separated, 'Serge had emerged
from the mysterious bank, and stood looking as though he-
did not quite understand what had happened. Behind
him was a black opening into which Phil was peering with
the. liveliest curiosity.
"Of all the miracles 1 ever heard of this is the strangest!"
he ei icd. •' What does it mean, old man .'"
•• I don't exactly know," answered Serge : " but I rather
think it, is a moss blanket. Anyhow . that's an elegant
place to crawl into out of the cold. Seems to be plenty of
w ood too."
Serge was right in his conjecture. What appeared to
he the river-bank was merely a curtain of tough, closely
compacted Alaskan moss, closely resembling peat in its
structure, one foot thick, and reaching from the crest of an
overhanging bank to the edge of the river. It had thus
held together, and fallen to its present position when the
river undermined and swept away the earth from beneath
it. That it presented a sloping surface instead of hang-
ing perpendicular was ow ing to a great number of timbers,
the ends of which projected from the excavated bank be-
hind it. Serge had broken through the moss curtain, fallen
between these timbers to the beach, and then cut his way
out. Now, as he suggested, what better camping- place
could they ask than the warm, dry, moss - enclosed space
from which he had just emerged.
" I never saw nor heard of anything so particularly and
aw fully jolly in all my life," pronounced Phil, after the
three travellers had entered this unique cavern, and started
a lire by which they were enabled to see something of its
strange interior. "And, I say, Serge, what a thoughtful
scheme it was on your part to provide a chimney for the
fire before you lighted it! See how the smoke draws up?
If it wasn't for that hole in the roof I am afraid we should
be driven out of here in short order. But, hello, old man !
Whew — w ! what are you throwing bones on the tire for?
It reminds me of your brimstone-aud-feather experiment
on Oouiinak."
"Bones!" repeated Serge in surprise. "Are those bones?
I thought they were dry sticks."
"I should say they were bones!" cried Phil, snatching a
couple of the offending objects from the fire. "And, sure
as I live, this log I am sitting on is a bone too. Why. it's
bigger than I am. It begins to look as though this place
were some sort of a tomb. But there's plenty of wood.
Let's throw on some more and light up."
"Toughest wood to cut I ever see," growled Jalap
Coombs, who]was hacking away at another half-buried log.
"'Pears to he brittle, though, and splits easy," he added,
dodging a sliver that broke off and flew by his head.
"Hold on !" cried Phil, picking up the sliver. "You'll
ruin the axe. That's another bone you're chopping. This
place is a regular giants' cemetery."
CHAPTER XXVI.
CAMPING '.MID PREHISTORIC BOXES.
So strange and uncanny was the place in which our
sledge party thus unexpectedly found themselves, that Phil
was for exploring it, and attempting to determine its true
character at once; but practical Serge persuaded him to
wait until they had performed their regular evening duties,
and eaten supper. " After that,'' he said, " we can explore
all night if we choose."
So Phil turned his attention to the dogs, which he un-
harnessed and fed, while Serge prepared supper, and Jalap
Coombs gathered a supply of firewood from the bleached
timber ends projecting from the bank behind them. He
tested each of these before cutting into it to make certain
that it was not a bone, quantities of which were mingled
with the timber.
The firewood that he thus collected exhibited several
puzzling peculiarities. To begin with, it was so very tough
and thoroughly lifeless that, as Jalap Coombs remarked, he
didn't know hut what bones would cut just as easy. When
laid on the fire it was slow to ignite, and finally only smonl-
554
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
dered, giving out little light, hut yielding a great heat.
As Serge said, it made one of the poorest fires to see Ijy and
one of the best to cook over that he had ever known.
Although in all their experience they had never enjoyed
a more 'comfortable and thoroughly protected camping-
place than this one, the lack of their usual cheerful blaze
and their mysterious surroundings rivaled a feeling of de-
pression that caused them to eat supper in unusual silence.
At its conclusion Serge picked up a freshly cut bit of the
wood, and, holding it in as good a light as he could get. ex-
amined it closely.
"I never saw nor heard of any wood like this in all
Alaska," he said at length. •• Do you suppose this can be
part of a buried forest that grew thousands of years ago?"
"I believe that's exactly what it is," replied Phil. "I
expect it was some awfully prehistoric forest that was
blown dowu by a prehistoric cyclone, and got covered with
mud, somehow, and was just beginning to turn into coal
•when the ice age set ill. Thus it has been preserved in
cold storage ever since. It must have grown in one of the
ages that one always likes to hear of, but hates to study
about, a paleozoic or Silurian or post-tertiary, or one of
those times. At any rate I expect it was a tropical forest,
for they all were in those days."
" Then like as not these here is elephant's hones," re-
marked Jalap Coombs. ''I were jest thinking as how this
one had a look of ivory about it."
"They may be," assented Phil, dubiously, "but they
must have belonged to pretty huge old elephants ; for I
don't believe Jumbo's bones would look like moro than
toothpicks alongside some of these. It is more likely that
they belonged to hairy mammoths, or mastodons, or mega-
theriums, or plesiosauruses, or fellows like that."
" I don't know as I ever met up with any of them, nor
yet heerd tell of 'em," replied Jalap Coombs, simply, "on-
less what you've just said is the Latin names of rhinoc-
erosses or hopouthomases or giraft'ees, of which my old
friend Kite Robevson useter speak quite frequent. He allus
said consarning 'em, though, that they'll best be let alone,
for lions nor yet taggers warn't a sareumstance to 'em.
Now if these here bones belonged to any sich critters as
them, he sartainly knowed what he were talking about,
and I for one are well pleased that they all went dead afore
we hove in sight."
"I don't know hut what I am too," assented Phil, "for
at close range I expect it would be safer to meet one of
Mr. Robinson's taggers. Still, I would like to have, seen
them from a safe, place, like the top of Grotou Monument
or behind the bars of a bank vault. Where are von going,
Serge ?"
"Going for some wood that isn't quite so prehistoric and
will blaze," answered the other lad, who had picked up an
axe and ivas stepping toward the entrance to the cavern.
"That's a scheme! Come on, Mr. Coombs. Let's help
him tackle that up-to-date, log outside, and see if we can't
get a modern illumination out of it, "suggested Phil.
So they chopped vigorously at the ice-bound drift-log
that had induced them to halt at that point, and half an
hour later the gloom of their cavern was dispelled by a
roaring, snapping, up-to-date blaze. By its cheerful light
they examined with intense interest the great fossil bones
that lay scattered about them.
"I should think a whole herd of mammoths must have
perished at once," said Phil. "'Probably they were being
hunted by some antediluvian Siwash and got bogged in a
quicksand. How I wish we could see a whole one! But,
great Scott! Now we have gone and done it !"
Phil's final exclamation was caused by a crackling sound
overhead. The sloping moss roof had caught fire from the
leaping blaze, and for a moment the dismayed spectators of
this catastrophe imagined that their snug camping-place
was about to be destroyed. They quickly saw, however,
that the body of the moss was not hm-ning; it was loo thor-
oughly permeated with ice for that, and that the fire was
only flashing over its dry under surface.
As they watched these fitful flames running along the
roof and illuminating remote recesses of the cavern, all
three suddenly uttered cries of amazement, and each called
tli.- attention of the others to tlie most wonderful sight he
had ever seen. Jirilliantly lighted and distinctly outlined
against the dark background of a clay bank, that held it
inlaet, was a gigantic skeleton complete in every detail,
even to a huge tusk that curved outward from a massive
skull. For a single minute they gazed in breathless awe.
Then the illuminating flame died out. and like a dissolving
picture the vast outline slowly faded from view and was
h'st in the blackness.
•• \\ as that one of Vm ?" gasped Jalap Coombs.
"I expect it was, "answered Phil.
" Waal, then, old Kite didn't make no mistake when he
said a tagger warn't a sarcumstance."
"It must have been all of twenty feet high," remarked
Serge, reflectively.
For more than an hour they talked of the wonderful
sight, and Phil told what he could remember of the gigan-
tic hairy mammoth discovered frozen in a Siberian glacier,
and so perfectly preserved that sledge-dogs were fed for
weeks on its flesh.
As they talked their fire burned low, and the outside cold
creeping stealthily into camp turned their thoughts to fur-
liued sleeping-bags. So they slept, and dreamed of pre-
historic monsters; while Musky. Lnvtnk, Amook, and their
comrades restlessly sniffed and gnawed at the ancient bones
of this strange encampment, and wondered at rinding them
so void of flavor.
Glad as our sledge travellers would have been to linger
for days and fully explore the mysteries of that great moss-
hidden cavern, they dared not take the necessary time. It
was already two weeks since they had left the mining-
camp, winter was waning, and they must leave the river
ere spring destroyed its icy highway. So they were oft'
again with the lirst gray light of morning, and two days
later found them at the mouth of the Pelly River, the upper
Yukon's largest tributary, and two hundred and fifteen
miles from Forty Mile.
One evening they spent in the snug quarters of -Harper,
the Pelly River trader, who was the last white man they
could hope to meet before reaching the coast.
From the Pelly River trader our travellers gained much
valuable information concerning the routes they might pur-
sue and the difficulties they had yet to encounter. They
had indeed heard vaguely of the great canon of the Yukon,
through which the mad waters are poured with such fury
that they can never freeze, of the rocky Five Fingers that
obstruct its channel, the Rink and White Horse rapids, and
-;he turbulent open streams connecting its upper chain of
lakes; but until this time they had given these dangers lit-
tle thought. Now they became real, while some of them,
according to the trader, were impassable save by wcar\ de-
tours through dense forests and deep snows that they fear-
ed would delay them beyond the time of the river's break-
ing up.
" What, then, can we do ?" asked Phil.
"I'll tell you," replied the trader. "Leave the Yukon at
this point; go about fifty miles up the Pelly, and turn to
your right into the Fox. Ascend this to its head, cross Fox
Lake, Indian Trail Lake, Lost Lake, and three other small
lakes. Then go down a creek that empties into the Little
Salmon, and a few miles down that, river to the Yukon. In
this way you will have avoided the Five Fingers and the
Rink Rapids, and found good ice all the way. After that
keep on up the main river till you pass Lake Le Barge.
There again leave the Yukon, this time for good by the
first stream that flows in on your right. It is the Tahkeena,
and will lead you to the Chilkat Pass, which is some longer,
but no worse than the Chillcoot. Thus you will avoid most
of the rough ice, the great canon, and all the rapids."
•• lint we shall surely get lost," objected 1'liil.
"Not if you can hire Cree Jim who lives somewhere up
on the Fox River to go with you, for he is the best guide
in the country."
So the next morning Phil and his companions again set
forth, this time up the Pelly River, with all their hopes for
safety and a successful termination to their journey cen-
tred upon the finding and hiring of Cree Jim, the guide.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
555
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
FLORA, QUEEN OF SUMMER.
A MEDLEY.
BY CAROLINE A. CREEVEY AND MARGARET E. SANGSTER.
CHARACTERS.
BUSCHK HOWE, r,;»;,l> ni .,/' i/» ffinepin •
FELICIA DEFOREST, tivrctaiy ,->'//<• Ninepm Uub.
Mi miters.
MORNA ROWLAND, LITILLE TAYLOR, CHRISTABEL MASON, SOPHIA
PRATT, ANNETTE SIMPSON, HELEN FAIRCHILD, AGNKS STOWE.
ALICE fROWBttiDGE, a classmate, n"t a member of the I,
WOMAN ; <i M.un; limns.
.,. . ( four little "iris, ]
Eight Blue Birds - fm,,. littk, b,,v,.
Six Yellow Birds
»**«>*«
( three little girls,
Six Red Birds "i thrt.e little boys. J
SCENE —A drawls-room in Mrs. Ames's private boarding-school.
Tlit Ninepin Cl'iib u holding one of Us regular meetings. Ike
quest;.,,, for ilixnusion in A Summer Fete. The President is m
(lie chair.
TIME. — The SQth of M.iy.
I'.l,,, n-h ( raps for order). The Club will come to order, ami
hear the minute's of the last meeting. The Secretary w
please rise.
/;/<>;,, (rises and nwM. The Ninepin Club met in tl
drawing- room for its usual weekly meeting.
After the minutes of the last meeting had been
read and approved, there being no business on
hand, and no question to discuss,
one of the members produced a
bos of cake and fruit just received
from home, and the Club enjoyed
a fine feast. The box was the
more appreciated, as the members
had dined that day off corned beef
and cabbage, which bill of fare,it
\\ as voted, should never be allow-
ed in the members' future homes.
It was voted that thanks should
be sent to the member's mother
for the box. Lucille announced
that she was expecting a box
soon, and would treat the Club at
their next meeting.
Blanche. You have heard the
report. As many as approve will
say aye.
.III. Aye!
Illiini-lie. The- President would
like to inquire if the member who
was expecting the box to-day has
received said box.
Lucille. 1 am sorry to say, Miss
President, and members of the
Club, that the box has been unac-
countably dela.\cd.
Blanche. It may come to-day?
J. iii-illi . It may. And it' it, does, the members will be
notified to attend a midnight INCH ing iu my room.
Blanche. That is satisfactory. The Club accepts with
thanks Lucille's invitation. Girls, you must put on your
bedroom slippers, and come in perfect silence. If any mem-
IHT is absent, on account of not being able to pass the sec-
tion teacher's open door, she shall be commiserated, and her
share of cake and fruit shall be sent to her next day. Is
there any other business?
Morna. I think we ought to consider whether Alice shall
be asked to join the Club. Not that I want her, goodness
knows, but yesterday Miss Foster spoke to me about her.
She said we didn't seem to associate with her much.
Annette. Miss Foster spoke to me too. She thought
Alice was a good girl, and only needed to be brought out.
[Several of the girls speak at once,ejccitedlij.
Helen. Oh 110, we don't want her.
She would just spoil the Club.
.s,V(/ii«. To me she is positively disagreeable.
/•', Uda. She dresses so plainly.
//, l,n. And does up her hair horridly.
< 'hristabel She is scared out of her wits if we just speak
to her I asked her the other day where her home was,
•ind -he looked awfully funny, and didn't answer a word.
JJoma. I don't exactly like her face. 1 wouldn't trust
her.
s,,i,hia. That's it. I don't believe she is sincere.
lunette. And she hasn't had a box since she came.
'iHanelie ( irder! You know Alice wouldn't be a bit con-
genial to me. But we will take a vote. Somebody make
a motion.
Felicia. I move that Alice Trowbridge be not admitted
to this Club.
Helen. I second the motion.
Blanche. All in favor say aye.
.•HI. Aye!
Blanche. There, that is settled. But, girls, I advise you
to pay a little attention to Alice outside of the Club, just
so that the teachers won't notice. Miss Foster is awfully
sharp. She pries
about a good deal
more than there's
any call for her to.
I shall ask Alice to
walk with me pretty
soon.
Agnes. Noble, self-
sacrificiug presi-
dent ! I will follow
your example.
Lucille. I too.
Sophia. Suppose
we all walk with
her. Then Miss Fos-
ter can't say any-
thing.
Chriatabel. I wish
Miss Foster would
mind her own busi-
ness.
Blanche. Well, do
not let's talk about,
this disagreeable
subject any more.
We were to have a paper on " Sum-
mer." Is the member prepared ?
Morna (rises and reads). I must
beg pardon for having no paper
prepared, but I have had so many
headaches lately I have been warn-
ed by Dr. Louise, not to work so
hard. Instead of a paper, I have a
proposal. The Doctor says we ought
to live out-of-doors more than we
do. Let us have a summer fete —
something that is quaint and ori-
ginal.
Blanche. It occurs to me that we
ht have a picnic and dress in peasant costume.
SAW A FIGURE HUDDLED IN A CORNER.
Lucille. How would yon like a mountain laurel party ?
Aynes. Oh, Lucille! just the thing. Girls, we could ask
for a half-holiday, and have a Queen, and cover her with
lovely piuk and white blossoms.
Blanche. How many would like a laurel party ? Raise
your hands. [All rai.sc their hands.
Suphia. Let's appoint a committee to get it up.
Chrixtabel. Do you suppose we could let Alice in on that ?
Annette. Oh, bother that tiresome girl! No, we can't.
[J knock on the dour. AU hush, and sit np reri/ straight.
Helen unlocks and opens the door. An Old Woman en-
ters. She stoops^ leans hearily on a cane, and limps.
>//< tins OH a long black cloak, and wears a lari/e poke
bonnet. Adjuxtiiii/ i/law* on her nose, she scans the
club members, then hobbles up to the President.
Old Woman. Good-afteruoori. Might I sit down and visit
you a few minutes? (-Helen places a chair.) Thank you,
556
"HAIL, FLORA, Q.UEEN OP SUMMER!'
dearie. You see, it's hard for me to stand. Tin pretty lame.
But I can get about very well. Oh yes; very well, consid-
ering. Yon don't know me, I suppose?
Blanche. I think not. Perhaps yon have got into the
wrong place ?
Old Woman. Isu't this the Niuepin CUib ?
Blanche, Yes.
Old Woman (chuckling). It's the right place. Oh yes. it's
the right place. The Niuepiu Club is where I was bound
for.
Christabel. A most extraordinary person.
Old Woman. One, t\vo, three, four, rive, six, seven, eight,
nine. Oh, I see, nine of you. That's why you are the Nine-
pin Club. Quite a coincidence. (Shakes her lieud grarcln.}
But I thought there were ten in your class. How does it
happen that you're one short ?
Blanche. If you please, we would like to know what right
you have to question our Club. Who are you, please ?
Old Woman. Certainly, certainly. What's my name and
where's my home ? My name is Granny Playfair, and I am
the general Club regulator. Whenever a Club is established,
I look after it, d'ye see ? [ The i/irh aiijicttr much mi/stijied.
Blanche. Well, Granny Playfair?
Granny. And knowing about the Niuepiu Club, I have
corne to regulate it.
Blanche. But how did you know about our Club? The
members are pledged to secrecy.
Granny. How did I know? Well, there's where I am
pledged to secrecy. It's a mighty good thing for Clubs
that I regulate them, though. Little birds of the air some-
times tell me things.
Blanche. But are you sure that our Club needs regulating?
Granny. Quite sure. Your Club is wrong all through.
Blanche. I have made a special study ofCiinhing's Manual,
aud we are quite parliamentary.
Granny. Well, I'm glad of that. (Shakes her head.) Oh,
bnt you do need regulating. Aud I shall do it. Never
fear. Now let me see, you were talking about summer.
Would you like to see how the birds keep summer? That
would help yon a little.
Several of the Girl*. Oh yes, indeed.
Granny (knockn on the floor. Door opens, and enter tteo little
children dressed in bine). Come in, my birds. Are all the
other birds assembled to do my bidding?
Blue Birds: We heard you call, yes, one and all,
And we were sent, we t\vo ;
So now, dear Lady, tell us, please,
What you would have us do;
For every little blue bird is
Devoted quite to you.
Granny. Then fly, and find us the wood where the laurel
grows thickest. [£jre«H/ birds.
Helen (aside). This is au interesting Old Woman, but I
can't make her out.
Jy licit. Nor I, one bit.
(ii-ni/iii/. Shall I tell you my dream, young ladies?
(lii-lx. Oh! do tell us your dream.
Granny. I was passing through a long, deserted hall,
when I heard sounds as of some one sobbing. In a side
room, whose door was just ajar, entering, I saw a small fig-
ure huddled in a corner. The room was dark, aud I drew
.a shutter, letting the light, in upon a young girl. Yes, she
was crying. I went softly to her, and touched her on the
shoulder. "What ails you, dearie ?" I said. "Oh, I am
not in it," she wailed. I took a seat, and drew the. poor
child to me, and stroked her forehead, and chafed her little
cold hands. "Not in what, sweetheart f" I said. "Not
in the Club, "she answered. "They are all in it but me."
" But why are you not in it?" I said. And she answered.
"Because my dresses are sober aud old-fashioned. I am
not bright aud witty. I am plain. I believe I am dull in
my studies, because the girls look at me so. I am frightened,
and can't recite even when I know the lesson. Ob, I have
not one friend in the class." My little dear fell to crying
again, and I had to take her in my arms, and kiss her, aud
comfort her a long time before she could tell me all of her
story. " My mamma is dead," she said. "Those girls don't
know how dreadful it is to lose their mammas. My uncle
takes care of me, aud he won't send me boxes of sweets,
because he thinks they are hurtful. And he thinks girls
ought to dress plainly aud inexpensively. He has money
enough. I have some money of my own, which my mother
told my uncle to take care of for me till I was of age. If
only I could make my uncle understand that I can't bear
to be different from the rest of the girls. When the other
girls go home in vacations, I stay here with the house-
keeper. My uncle says I ought to be thankful for so good
a home. But I'm not thankful. Oh, Granuy, I want my
mamma!"
557
HARPER'S BOUND TABLE
Well "iris. \,m may believe mo, tliis poor child's storj
touched me verj mnch, ami I thought how I could hep
]„.,. i asked her uncle's address an, I kissed lier.and told
her thai Granuj «onld be her friend, and we went .ml ..1
that lonely dark room, ber little lu-art con -ted. rben 1
wrote to thai uucle,and the result was— But ben- conic
Blanch* i '» "" »""''' .'/"•'•"'• I( brg-ius '" <1:l" " "" ""' "bat
Granny's dream means.
Mui-ini. II'- Mice, of course.
Uriiinni. Ilusb!
| Enter isinls. /'.';<//</ '•/'«• ''i»'*. w* '''•'' 6«>'«*> »« •"''"'"
/,,,,/>. Each, cai-riei a Cluster or wreath »/• basket of
fi'nik Iniiri'l.
tlnnnn/. Go back, little birds, and find Flora,your Queen.
[Tlieyrusli off and return r/i-ni/.'/'''.'/ « ''"'.'/'' ''''"''' ''''"/"'''
in//, (/'•'•'•» <•'""'• ?'/'<l" ""'.'/ xc<iw]>rrvut ».'/'"»• Granny
Woir'n it imi n-hixtte. Tin- ilimr opens, and enter Mice,
beautifully <lrrx*e<l in «-liii<; « m-cntli of roses on Tier
In ml. ii xiinill "-mill Uuiii-il ifilli ii row in hrr IK/HI/. Oil
,-arh Kill,' of her (t lilm I'inl inilkx. lleliinil, in jiitirx,
nil tin otherx iinireli. Tlii/i ijo once iiniHHil tin1 i-niiiii,
ami exmrl Alice loiter Iliroue. Granny ri*c* unit nnike*
II lull- linir.
drnnnij. Hail, Flora, Queeu of Summer!
Hail, Flora, Queen of Summer! nil Nature speaks your praises;
She 'spells them in her violets, and mines them with her daisies.
For you the lances lift of countless gallant grasses !
To you all fragrant odors drift, where'er your footstep passes.
Come make your subjects glad, these loyal hearts that love you !
Nor let a single- thought be sad, while bright the skies above you.
(iriiinni. And now, my birds, have you uot an offering for
your Queen 1
\_Thf hi nix tiiiieeli </».'/'.'/ roil ml tlir room : us tln'i/ IHI*X
Flora, ciic/i *<•/ jitnixex.
SI H i' liinlx :
This time insteail of laurel we bring you violets.
Yi-llow liirtls :
And we have gathered roses, the flower for coronet-.
/,•<•(/ I Unix :
And we the little lily bells no loving heart forgets.
Crtiiiiiii. Vou see, dear Flora, ho\v we all love- you.
Flora. Thanks.
For the violets and the loses,
The laurel bright and rare,
And for the valley-lilies sweet,
And the flowers all so fair,
As well as for your loving words,
I thank you, Granny; thank you, Birds.
And now, as I am Quern, I may invite yon all to a little
feast. The Birds will serve it. Strawberries and cream,
cake and bonbons. As mistress of the fete, 1 am happy to
serve the lovely Niiiepin Club. Birds, help the girls.
Ulnnclii: Girls, do eat these lovely things if you can. As
for me', they would choke me.
l-'elieiii. 1 eannol eat them
(irinini/. You must nol refuse, girls. Flora would be
hurt.
Slum-In: Well. then. lint, first, as President of the Club,
let me speak. I confess our fault. We have been harsh,
cold, and cruel. Wo have treated our classmate shame-
fully. I'.ul believe me. (irauuy, we did not suppose we
were indicting pain. We were inexcusably thoughtless.
For one, I ask Alice —
<! runny. Flora, your Queen.
Blanche. I ask Flora's forgiveness. And I want some
one in the Club to make a motion that Aliee — Flora — be
asked to join the Club.
.lunette. I make that motion, and I want to sav that I
ai;i ee with our President in thinking we have acted shame-
fully. Forgive me, if you can, Alice — Flora, I mean.
Aifin-x. I second the motion, and 1 want to >a\ that I
never «as so ashamed of anything in my life.
All in favor of this motion say aye
.III. Aye '
Itltnii-ln: Now let us go and ask tbe Queen if she will join
us and foruiM us.
l-'lunt (irlioxi- rain- In-nililtx it liltli-) :
I have nothing to pardon, 'twas all a mistake.
And (lie sweetest amends you are willing to make;
Hereafter, dear girls, we'll be comrades and friends,
Till, unclouded, our life at this pleasant school ends.
i:i;iiniil. Kiss the Queen, dearies, and then eat your cake
ami cream. It is Flora's box. You see now- the result of
the dream. Instead of sending a box, the uncle, who is
really at heart very kind, sent a liberal sum of money, and
Flora directed this feast to be purchased.
[.Ill lln i/irlx /.'/»» Flora, ii'lio In-iimx i/>-iiti'J'iilli/ upon tlii-tn.
<!i-iiiiin/(i(i the birds). Sit right on the floor, you sweet
birdies, and you shall have a share in the good things. I
must go now'. Jly duly as grand regulator is done.
Clirixlnbi-1 (liii/ini/ ilini-ii lii-i- iiluli'}. Uirls, I have my sus-
picious about that funny old woman. Let's catch her, and
see if she isn't somebody in disguise.
[All tin- i/irls run to Granny ici/A »1ivu1* and Inuijhti-r.
Thru jnill i>ll ""' ''»'""'', cnjir., «}>ec1aele8, and i--loiil:
Their Iriirliir, Miss Foster, ntuiul« remilcil.
ClirMiibel. I knew it, I knew it. You dear! Yon dear!
What a lesson you have taught us ! I shall never forget it.
Alonin. So much better than reading us a long lecture.
Mix* Foxier. But you deserved the lecture.
Lncilli: Yes, we did.
Mi«x Foxter. I hope, dear girls, you have learned tbe les-
son once for all your lifetime. Let the main business of
this Club be to add comfort and cheer to a sad heart. But
yon will have to change the name ol'your Club ; you cannot
be ninepins any more.
Tlrs Department is conducted in the inlei
bt> pleased tu answer nnv question on Ihe
ftildrKss Editor Ciimera Club De|.;irtment.
st of An
,ibj*ct so
r Pliototrrnpliers, niul the Editor will
!• possible Correspondents sin uld
PAPERS FOR BEGINNERS, NO. 2.
FOR THE DARK liOOM.
Til those who have a room specially devoted to photo-
graphic work ami materials the only suggestion to
them will be'to adopt for their rules and laws:
I. A label and place for everything, aud everything in its
place with its label.
II. Keep everything clean and free from dust.
These two directions for arranging aud caring for a dark
room will save hours of labor, aud many spoiled plates.
The lighting of the dark room is tbe n'rst thing which
should engage our attention. If the developing is done at
night, the stopping out of actinic rays will be avoided; but
if in I lie daytime, care must be taken to shut out all direct
rays of light. If the plate is kept in the direct rays of the
led light, diffused light will not harm the plate. By dif-
fused light is meant the stray gleams which come through
a crack, 01 a door that does not shut tight enough so but
what light shows around the edge.
There are many makes ol lantern of all grades and prices
iu the market, and care should be taken in buying one that
it is perfectly light-tight. An actinic ray from the lantern
striking the plate \villfog it. Most of the' lanterns are made
for using kerosene. A lantern in which the lamp screws
into the bottom is not as light-safe as one which sets whol-
ly inside the lantern, though there is less odor and grease
from the keiosene. The trouble with a kerosene lamp is
that the conlined air soon I.e. dines heated, causing the oil
to lose ils density, a nd it ooxes out, not only making an un-
pleasant smell, but greasing the lantern. It will be found
mnch more agreeable to remove the lantern and substitute
558
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
in its place a candlestick and candle. The one known as
the, camping or soldier's candlestick is just the thing tor a
dark lantern. It is a little over two inches high, and made
of brass, and costs only fifteen cents.
Adamantine candles are the best, as they last twice as
long, and do not melt and run down the sides like the pur-
ratline or tallow candles.
One needs two trays for developing — one 4x5 and an-
other 5x8. The smaller tray can be used when one has
only two or three plates to develop, and both trays where
one has quite a number. The two trays are necessary also
in transferring the plate from one solution to another, if the
developing does not work satisfactorily. The tray for the
hypo-sulphite of soda, or fixing solution should be 5x8, so
that two 4x5 plates can be fixed at one time.
The di'veloping-trays should be of hard rubber or cellu-
loid, and the hypo-tray of amber glass, so that there shall
be no mistaking the developing for the hypo tray.
A four-ounce glass graduate is needed for measuring li-
quids, and if one has no scales, the dry chemicals should be
weighed in the right proportions for nse when they are pur-
chased. The hypo can lie put up in half-pound packages,
and this quantity of fixing solution prepared at one time.
A glass funnel is needed for pouring solutions frcni trays
into bottles, and also for holding the filtering-paper when
filtering solutions. The funnel should be fluted, for the
ribs make passages for the liquid to pass through the sides
of the paper, letting the sediment settle at the bottom of
the paper.
If one has not the advantage of running water for fixing
and washing plates it is better to have a washing box
in which to place the developed negatives. The regular
washing box is made of zinc, which does not rust. The
inside rack, which holds a dozen plates, is adjustable by
t h limb]- screws for different-sized plates. The box has a
small tube at one of the lower corners, to which a rubber
hose is attached from the faucet, the water is turned on,
and comes up from the bottom of the box, circulates
between the plates, and runs out through an overflow
spout at the top of the box.
The box containing the plates can be transferred from
one pail or tub to another, or set on the floor, while the
water is changed, without danger of breaking or scratch-
ing. A boy who is handy with tools can make a washing
box that will answer every purpose.
The cost of the articles mentioned iii this article are as
follows: Candlestick for lantern, 15 cents; a 4 x 5 de-
veloping-tray, 50 cents; a 5x8 developing-tray, 72 cents
(the price for these trays is for either rubber or celluloid) ;
auaber glass tray for hypo, 35 cents ; glass graduate (4 07. i,
••>."> cents; fluted glass funnel (4 oz.), 15 cents; zinc wash-
ing-box. $2.25.
OFF WITH THE MERBOY.
BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.
C H A P T E K VI.
IN THE DRAWER.
IMMIEBOY clambered up the side
of the bureau with some difficulty
too, because he was now so small
that the bureau was not so easy
to climb. In a few minutes, how-
ever, he was comfortably fixed in-
side the drawer, and the Wizard,
taking the key from the lock, fol-
lowed him. Once inside he touched
a spring on the side of the drawer,
and with a bang it shut itself.
" There we are," said the Wizard, locking the drawer from
the inside. " How do yon like it, Jimmieboy I"
"It's awfully dark," said the little fellow. "I can't see
an inch in front of my face."
"Then take, my hand," said the Wizard, "and I'll lead
you to where it is light."
Jimmieboy did as he was told, and the two little creatures
groped their way along in the dark until the Wizard found
a small door. Turning the knob to this he threw it wide
open, and Jimmieboy looking through it saw a beautiful
garden in which sweetly perfumed fountains were plash-
ing merrily, and through which there were scattered beds
and beds of the loveliest and withal the most singular-
looking flowers he had ever seen.
"My!" he cried in an ecstasy of delight. "Isn't this
magnificent!"
"Oh, yes — pretty good," said Thumbhi. "I suppose
when one sees it for the first time it must look like the
most beautiful place in the world, but to one whose prison
it has been it isn't quite so beautiful. You never heard
my song.
" ' I would rather be free in a dungeon cell
Than a captive at large in a flowered dell.'
Did you ?"
"No," said Jimmieboy, " I never did. How, does it' go?"
"This way," replied the Wizard, and then he repeated
these lilies :
" ' I would rather be free in a dungeon cell
Than a captive at large in a flowered dell ;
I would rather be free 'neatli a load of chains
Than :i prisoner roaming the country lanes.
I would rather be free in an ice-bound cave
Than to sit on a throne as another's slave;
For all the great blessings with which man's blest
'Tis freedom, sweet freedom that I love the best.' "
"That's a pretty song," said Jimmieboy. "And I think
maybe yon are right. I feel that way myself sometimes.
Once in a while when I'm told I can't do something, I feel
that way. I always want to do that thing more than
ever."
"You are just like me, then — though really I didn't think
much about freedom and bow nice it was, and what a
dreadful thing captivity was, until I had a little chat one
night with a song-bird. She was cooped up in a cage, and
sometimes she nearly broke her wings fluttering up against
the bars of it trying to get out. As I watched her I won-
dered how she could sing so happily when she was shut
up that way, and I asked her about it. She answered me
softly, ' It isn't I that is happy. It is my song that is happy
because it is free.' And then she sang this little verse to
me :
" Though they shut me close in these brazen bars,
Though they keep me a captive long,
Yet my notes will rise
Till they touch the skies.
No man can imprison my song."
"I've always felt sorry for birds in cages," said Jimmie-
boy, when the Wizard had spoken. "And I've wondered,
too, how they could sing so sweetly when all the day long
they were locked up with nothing to do but jump from one
perch to another, or swing in that little swing at the top of
the cage."
" Well, there's one thing that's nice about their lives,"
said the Wizard. "They don't have anybody to quarrel
with. I think that's very fine."
"That's true," said Jimmieboy. "And then, too, when
one bird wants to swing there isn't any other little bird
that he has to give up to; but I'd rather be free, and take
my chances of getting the swing, wouldn't you?"
" Rather !" ejaculated the Wizard. " But, my dear fellow,
•we are wasting time. The Merboy will be back in a few
minutes, and if you want to see all the wonders of this
place we must hurry. Come. Let's go out into the gar-
den."
The queer little fellow leading the way, the two new
friends went out of the drawer. As they sauntered along,
Thumbhi reached out his hands and plucked two pretty
flowers from a bush at the side of the path, and putting
one of them in his mouth handed the other to Jimmieboy.
"You must be hungry by this time," he said. "Eat
that,"
"Flowers aren't good to eat, are they ?" asked Jiunuie-
boy.
559
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
JIMMIEBOY STARTED IN PURSUIT.
" Cauliflowers and the flowers of this garden are. That
is nothing but a biscuit-bush I plucked those from. Didn't
you ever see a biscuit-bush ?"
" Never," suid Jimmieboy ; " though I should thiuk they'd
be very nice."
"They are," said the Wizard.
" How do you make them grow ?" asked Jimmieboy in
surprise.
"Simple enough," said Thmnhhi. "Take the Buckwheat-
cake bus]], for instance. Buckwheat cakes are nothing more
than cooked buckwheat, so instead of planting the seeds
raw we plant them cooked, and when they grow up and
sprout, instead of putting forth raw buckwheat out come
the cakes. Try one."
Jimmieboy needed no second bidding, for as the Wizard
spoke he had reached over to the buckwheat-cake bed, and
plurkcd a half-dozen hot, steaming cakes.
'• My !" ejaculated Jimmieboy, as he swallowed the first
one, somewhat greedily, perhaps, for he was very hungry.
" My ! How sweet they are."
"Aren't they!" said the Wizard. "And' why shouldn't
they be? We water the Buckwheat - cake bushes with
maple syrup."
The idea was so overpoweringly lovely that Jimmieboy
could not find words to express his delight over it. He
simply let his eyes open a little wider, but the twinkle in
them showed the Wizard ho\v he felt.
•• Now here," said the Wizard, tapping a little door in a
curious-looking summer-house — " here is where we keep
our tnuls. They are the funniest tools yon ever saw in your
life. They do all their own work. I'll introduce you to
some of them. Mr. Huke !"
" Well ?" came a voice from within. " Well, what's want-
ed f If you are the gravel path you might as well trot
away. I can't smooth you off to-day, and if you are the
weed path, I've asked Mr. Hoe to attend to yon. I'm hav-
ing trouble with my teeth."
•' It's I — Thnmbhi," said the Wizard.
" Oh," came the answer. " Why didn't you say so."
Here the door was opened, and the Rake hopped out.
" Good-morning," he said. " I didn't know it was you or
I wouldn't have kept you waiting. Who is your young
friend ?"
"Jimmieboy," returned the Wizard. "This is his first
visit, and I didn't know but what you'd show him how you
do your work."
" I'd be very glad to," said the Rake, " but it's impossible
this morning. I spent all day yesterday raking the candy
field, and it has made my teeth ache like
seventy-two — which is twelve more than
like sixty; but if he's fond of jokes I can
give him a few. Why is a —
"Well, really," said the Wizard, who
knew the Rake's jokes were very bad,
and who was therefore anxious to spare
Jimmieboy the trouble of hearing them,
" we don't like to bother you. We'll run
along —
"No bother, I assure yon," said the
Rake. "I know it by heart. Why is a
trolley-car like a grindstone without any
handle?"
" I couldn't possibly guess," said Jim-
mieboy, with a grin.
"They don't either of them smoke ci-
garettes, of course," said the Rake. " I
should thiuk anybody could have told
that. Now, can you tell me why a —
" Thumbhi !" came a voice in the dis-
tance.
" Excuse me for a minute," said Thumb-
In. "I thiuk I hear somebody calling
me." and he was off.
"You'd better follow him, Jimmieboy,"
said the Rake, kindly. "Don't lose sight
of him for an instant. This is his way of
getting rid of you. He brought you in
here to tell you his history, didn't he?"
"Yes, "said Jimmieboy.
"Well, he hasn't got one," whispered the Rake. "He
hasn't got one, and he never had one, and this having him-
self called away is only one of his tricks. Keep your eye
on him or you're lost."
With this the Rake slammed the door of the tool-house,
and Jimmieboy turning about peered down the path at the
Wizard, who was running as fast as his legs could carry
him. Jimmieboy started in pursuit — and what a pursuit
it was ! Like the wind they ran, mile after mile round and
round the garden, through forests that turned up on the
road here and there, and once in awhile with great bounds
jumping over rivers and mountains, until finally Thumbhi
turned suddenly, ran backwards directly past Jimmieboy,
and before the little visitor had time to turn around was
lost to sight.
Jimmieboy was now quite lost. He had no idea as to his
whereabouts. The garden had long since disappeared, and
so fast had he run the boy had failed to notice in what di-
rection he had come.
"Humph !" he said, seating himself by the road to catch
his breath. "Here's a muddle. I wonder where the Mer-
boy is?"
"Here I am," came a subdued little voice that sounded
miles away. "Take the first door to your right, open it,
and you'll find me."
Jimmieboy started up and walked, it seemed to him, for
hours, but no door appeared anywhere until, just as the snu
was setting, he came to a big oak-tree with a little bit of a
door half-way up its trunk.
"I wonder if that's it?" said the puzzled boy, scratching
his head.
"Yes," came the voice from the inside. "Climb up and
come in."
" I can't climb 'way up there," said Jimmieboy.
"Then we'll let the door down," returned the voice be-
hind the door. Sure enough down came the door. Jimmie-
boy opened it and walked in, and there was the Merboy,
only he had become a goldfish in the aquarium in the nur-
sery again, and was swimming around as unconcernedly as
if nothing had ever happened.
"Wasn't it queer?" said Jimmieboy, as he told the story
to his father.
"Very," said his father, "but queer things often happen
to boys who eat as much fruit cake as yon do."
Which was the only explanation of his strange adventure
that Jimmieboy ever got.
THE END.
500
ilNTERSCHOKASTICl
SPORTt
ALTHOUGH THE IXTER-CITY GAMES at the Berkeley
Oval, a week ago Saturday, were at no time exciting,
because of the marked difference in strength of the con-
testiug teams, yet in many instances the contests were ex-
ceedingly interesting, and, take it all in all, the occasion
•was worthy of a greater display of public interest than it
received. I was surprised at the small size of the audi-
ence present. I had expected to see twice as many spec-
tators as there were at the Oval on the previous Saturday,
and no doubt there would have been if the games had
been properly advertised. As far as I know not a daily
newspaper of this city announced, on that morning, that
there would he iuterscholastic games at the Oval that af-
ternoon. This is not the fault of the newspapers; it is the
fault of the managers of the luter-City games, who should
Lave made it their duty to see that the occasion was duly
advertised and heralded. These same managers were so
anxious to fill their coffers as to make all contestants pay
an entrance-fee into the grounds, like ordinary spectators.
If they had spent a few dollars in reading notices in the
daily papers, and a few cents in postage on polite notes to
the various G'ity Editors, they would have doubled the num-
ber of spectators present, and the contestants could have
been admitted free — as they should have been in any case.
I hope my words on this subject will not be taken as a
complaint or as fault-finding, for they are not so intended.
Contestants in track games, as in other sports, can do better
if encouraged by a crowd, and so I think, in justice to
them, no reasonable efforts should be spared to attract a
large audience.
OTHERWISE THE GAMES were pretty well managed. The
events might have been run off a little faster, but as it was
they did not drag, and by five o'clock the programme was
at an end. The advantage of having few entries was
clearly demonstrated, and a tiresome succession of trial
heats was avoided. How much better it would be if the In-
terscholastics could be conducted on some such plan next
year. The programme was a compromise, and a very good
compromise at that. The mile walk and the Junior 220
\vere omitted, and the bicycle race was made two miles in-
stead of one mile. The latter change was commendable,
because the inter-collegiate event is two miles, and so it is
in almost all of the other iuterscholastic programmes of the
country. The long distance makes a better race, and the
fact that New-Yorkers wou every place in the event proves
POLE VAULT AT THE I.-C. GAMES.
Simpson clearing tlie bar al 10 feet.
pretty conclusively that the N.Y.I. S.A.A. riders can cover
that distance as well as they have been doing the mile.
Tnio LONG-ISLANDERS started ont with a spurt, and earned
22 of their 33 points in the first four numhrrs on the card.
Stevens, the B. L. S. sprinter,
was responsible for 10 of
these, and he showed him-
self a strong runner. He is
tall and slim, somewhat re-
sembling Sheirill in his
build, and will no doubt
cc[iial Sberrill's and the oth-
er champions' time before
he retires from the track. He
ran a dead heat with Hall in
the first 100, doing lOf, and
on the run off he was victo-
rious by about a foot in HiJ.
Hall is not strong after his
first dash, and seldom does
himself justice in the finals.
I believe that if he would
train hard, however, lie could
get staying power that
would enable him to do as
well in the third heat as he
FINISH IN FINAL HEAT LOW HURDLES OF THE L-C. GAMES.
561
now does at his first trial.
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
RECORD OF THE INTER-CITY GAMES, BERKELEY OViL, MAY 18, 1895.
Event.
Winner
t (Five Points).
Performance.
Second
(Tliree Points).
Third
(One Point).
Points.
Points made by
SchooH. '
N.Y.
L.I.
I'M
Stevens, /•'. L. S.
Itoliinxim, .sv. Paul's
,XY,-IV;IS, /;. L. S.
,1, well, Adelphi
\In li;ili, * 'nlldon
McCord, Dwight
Vuiii Banr, Barnard
Svme, Barnard
Powell, Cutler
Baltazzi, Harvard
Cowperthwaite, Col. Gram.
Simpson, Barnard
Ayers, Condon
Ayers, Condon
10 4-5 sec.
11 2-5 "
224-5 "
r.4 1-5 "
2 m. 9
4 " 584-5 "
154-5 "
273-s "
5 " 32 2-5 "
5 ft. 10 1-4 in.
20 " S 1-2 "
HI ••
123 " 11 1-4 "
40 "
Hall, Yale
Wilson, Barnard
Wfisllburne, Barnard
Draper, Cutler
Eollinnworth, Pol;/. Prep.
Moscnthal, Saclia
Beers, 1>. L. s.
Harris, Cutler
Mortmer, Blake
Wenmnn, Drisler
Jewell, Adi'lplii
Pauldin^', Drisler
Ballerman, Harvard
Bigelow, W. & K.
Stei-ensnn, Poll/. Prep.
Armsti-ad, Berkeley
Underbill, Po/il. Prf/i.
Fishrr, Harvard
Van Ordfn,Pu/i/.Prep.
Homer, Adeljihi
Mocnin, Berkeley,
Pell, Cutler
Gillespie, Col. (Tram.
Gunnison, Adelphi
Powell, Cutler
Hurlhurt, Berkeley
Fairbank, St. Paul
Mason, Poly. Prep.
3
4
3
4
5
8
9
9
9
8
6
9
8
8
93
6
5
6
5
4
1
0
0
0
1
3
0
1
1
33
Barnard .. 21
Condon . . 15
Cutler 13
Adel/.hi ..10
/;. L. n — 10
Harvard.. 9
P:, I n. Prep. 1
St. Paul's. 6
Col. Gram. 6
Drislt-r ... 6
Dwi.'ht .. 5
B.-rkulfV . 3
Yale 3
Snclis 3
D. L. S. . . . 3
W. £K... 3
BlaUe 3
126
100-yard dasli, for Juniors .
I4il-v.ini run
Ilalfmile run
Mill- mil
I-JH-\ ;li,i hurdle
hurdle
T\\ ii-milc bicyrlc
KunniuK hiu'li jump
KuiiiiiiiL' broad jump
Pole vault
Throwing 12-pound bummer
Pulling 12-pound suol
Whether under any circumstauces he could defeat Stevens
is a question, for the Long-Islander showed bis mettle by
following up his lirst bard victory, and winning tin- '-'-'IP in
tbe record time of 22£ seconds. He could have done even
better if he had known, he was so close to these figures.
FISHER, OF HAUVARD SCHOOL, who holds the scholastic
record of 52| sec. in the 440, was counted on by the New-
Yorkers to take that event. Fisher has been training for
it all spring, but since his injury last year he has uot been
nlilr to get into very fit condition. He started otf at a
rapid gait and held tbe lead for about 300 yards, when bis
wind gave out, and Jewell, who did so much for Adelphi,
in Brooklyn, tbe previous week, passed him easily,' and
came in an easy wiuner, with Fisher a weary third. His
time, ..">4J, was If seconds better than his winning time at
tbe L.I.I. S.A.A. games. Meebau again had an easy vic-
tory in the half-mile, running as strong and pretty a rare,
as he did the week before. In the mile, Tappen did not
appear, having gone out of training, but McCord, who ran
third iu tbe N.Y. Intel-scholastics, came to tbe scratch and
won iu 4 m. 58f sec. He is a promising athlete, and this
performance is especially creditable, as it is only his second
race. Moserithal, who beat him home the week before, ran
second.
THE HIGH HURDLES were run iu three pretty heats.
Beers came home ahead in the first in 161 sec., wiih a
couple of Brooklyn men upsetting the hurdles behind him,
and Voni Baur took the second heat in .16|. Then tame a
neck-and-ueck race between these two. Beers, who wou
the Intel-scholastics, ran well, and both men leaped together
all the way. But Vom Baur was a little stronger at the
finish, and left his opponent only a few inches behind him.
It was an exciting race, and an exceedingly close finish.
Syme won tbe final of the low hurdles easily, after coming
in In-hind Harris in bis heat, and Brooklyn was closed out,
of any points in the event by Harris and Pell. I'oudl
took tbe lead in the bicycle, and made creditable time, 5 m.
32? sec. This was doubtless due to the pacing of Ehricb,
which was permitted by the mutual consent of the Inter-
scholastic Committees.
THE FIELD EVENTS were more interesting than the track
events, especially the hammer, in which tbe record was
broken by two men. Batter-man threw lirst, and lauded at
123 ft. J iu. Tbe record is 117 ft. 4* in., made by Irwin-Mar-
tin at the Intel-scholastics on May llth. Irwin-Martin did
not appear at the Inter-City games. Having made so good
a throw, Batterman felt confident of victory. Inn \\p-
stepped up and threw ]•_':! I'l. 11} in. Neither mark was
bettered after these two performances. Halla/xi kept up
to his mark in the high jump, and cleared 5 ft. 10J in.
Then he had the bar put u|> to i! It., and tried fur a record.
1 1, nearly did it, touching only with his ankle-bone, ami lie
did not try again. My assumption that, Baltazzi would
represi-nl the X.Y.A.C.in the International games in Sep-
tember has proved correct. Captain Baxter lias a-kcd him
to become a member of the N.Y.A.C. team. Cowperthwaite
jumped half an inch further than he did at the Interscho-
lastics, but came near being defeated by Jewell, who cleared
20 ft. 10 in., then lost his balance and fell back. Jewell is
one of the best all-round men in the schools. Simpson's
work in the pole vault, was of the first order, his best jump,
10 ft., coming within § of an inch of the interscholastic
re-cord established by him the year before. The accom-
panying table will show the day's record. The names of
the Long Island representatives and schools are italici:i'd
for convenience of reference.
NEXT SATURDAY the schools of the Pennsylvania Inter-
academic League will meet on Franklin Field, Philadel-
phia, to decide the championship of tbe association iu
track athletics. I expect to see Jones of Peim Charter,
who did .10f iu the 100, last year, take the event again
this spring, with Hunsberger, his schoolmate, second. Un-
less some new mau develops, Branson of Peun Charter and
Remington of De Laucey will fight it out between them
for first in the high hurdles. Jones should be heard from
again in the 220, and McCarty of Germautown will proba-
bly take the quarter. Tbackara will push him. Thackara
will also have a close contest with Hedges in the half-mile,
as both are good men, and Thorpe of Penu Charter will
see that they make their best time. Branson has a record
of 5 feet in the high jump, and it is doubtful if any one else
in the I. A. A. L. can better it. The pole vault is uncertain,
but Beasley of Germantowu has cleared nearly 8 feet.
The running broad will probably go to Remington, whose
record is 18 feet 5J inches, but it will be closely contested
by Hnnsberger and Shoenhut. As Boyd of Cheltenham
M. A. will uot contest this year, the hammer and shot are
uncertainties, and will go to new men.
Ax UNUSUALLY LARGE number of schools came into
the I.A.B.B. League this year, and some good games were
the result. Germautowu Academy and Cheltenham M.A.
defeated all their opponents, and met last Friday to decide
which school should fly the championship banner. The
game was played too late in the week for me to be able to
notice it, in this Department, but I shall treat of it next
time. The De Laucey School stands third in the race, with
two defeats. Cricket is uot a, regular I.A.A.A. sport; but a
cup, offered by the Haverford College Cricket Club, was
contested for last year, and has been played for again this
year by a number of the schools in the league. In 1894 De
Laucey headed the list, with Germautown, Penn Charter,
Havertovd Grammar, and Kpiscopal Academy following in
the order named. The struggle this spring will be between
Pemi ' ad He Laucey, neither having yet suffered
defeat. 1'enn Charter h.is two strong bowlers iu Jones
and Brown, but in my opinion neither one is quite up to
Graves, De Laucey "s plucky little all-round cricketer.
THE XEXT THHKK WEEKS will see some hard training
among the athletes ol'lli,- New I'.ngland schools, for all the
principal scholastic track meets in that region come during
HARPEE'S ROUND TABLE
the first days of June. The first important
meeting will be the dual games between
Amlover and Worcester Academy, which
will probably lie held in Worcester, on June
1st. Then the Interscholastic games of the
New England League come, at Cambridge,
ou June 15th, and they will be preceded on
June 8th by the Western Massachusetts
I.S.A.A. games at Amherst, and by the Con-
necticut I.S.A.A. games at Hartford. At the
latter we shall see some records broken, for
Beck of Hillhouse High is throwing the
hammer (16 Ibs.) Ill feet in practice, and is
putting the shot (also 10 Ibs.) 39 feet. He
is sure to add ten points to the New Haven
school's score.
Ax THE MEETING of the N.E.I.S.A.A., held
in Boston, May 2d, the legislators very wise-
ly voted to keep meii over twenty years of
age out of all Intel-scholastic contests. Cush-
iug Academy and Phillips Andover wanted
to change the constitution so that yonug
men over twenty years of age, if at school,
could participate in games held under the
rules of the N.E.I.S.A.A. But, as 1 antici-
pated, they found few supporters, and the
motion to refer the question to a committee
was promptly defeated, and the subject
dropped. Lynn High and Mechanics' High
schools applied for membership in the
League, aud were admitted. T-he New Eng-
land Association is now the largest inter-
scholastic organization in the country, hav-
ing twenty-eight schools in its membership.
THE DUAL GAMES between rhillips Au-
dover aud Worcester academies will be close,
and will furnish an exciting contest. It
seems a difficult problem at this early date
to name the winner, for there are so many
unknown quantities to consider. Neverthe-
less, the 100 will probably rest between Seuu,
RECALLED STORMY TIMKS.
"Well, that looks natural," said the old soldier,
looking at a can of condensed milk on the breakfast
table in place of ordinary milk that failed on account
of the storm. "It's the Gail Bordeu Eagle Brand we
nsed during the war." — [Adv.}
Why Not
make the baby fat? For the
thin baby is delicate, and is not
half so cunning.
Give the thin baby Scott's
Emulsion of Cod-liver Oil with
Hypophosphites.
Scott's Emulsion is as easy a.
food as milk. It is much more
effective in making thin babies
fat, and they like it.
If all the babies that have
been made fat and chubby and
well by Scott's Emulsion could
only tell their story to the
mothers of other sickly babies!
There wouldn't be enough to
go round.
Don't be persuaded to accept a substitute!
Scott & Bowne, N. Y. All Druggists, 50c.and$l.
P. A., and Bryant, W. A., with Barker, P. A.,
third; nud the winner should certainly cover
the distance in .104. The order of the 220
is likely to be Gaskell, P. A., Barker, W. A.,
aud Woodward, P. A. ; but as none of them
are crack men, the time will be slow. Laiug,
P. A., and Fish, W. A., will have a tussle for
supremacy in the quarter, and will make
good time. Laiug is the better of the two,
and will probably take the half-mile, with
Gaskell and Tyler, both P. A., behind him.
Richardson, of the same school, will finish
first ill the mile, with Milner, W. A., a cln.se
second, aud Lewis, P. A., behind him. Clare
of Worcester ought to get the high hurdles
away from lline, who is Andover's best man
over the sticks; but Hiue will undoubtedly
take first iu the low hurdles. Barker, W.A.,
will push him hard, and Fish should come
in third. Lockwood, W. A., will have an easy
time of it in the walk, and it is uncertain if
Audover has any one good enough to secure
better than third place. The bicycle race
will also go to Worcester, with Grouse, P.A.,
possibly in one of the places. Holt of An-
dover should take the shot event, and he
will earn second in the hammer ; while l-'.d-
munds, W.A., will reverse matters by getting
first in the hammer and second in the shot.
Andover ought to get third in this last cvrnt,
with Maltliy. The broad jump is the most
doubtful of any event, as neither school has
any \ cry good man for that number ou the
card. The high jump, however, will stay at
Worcester in all three places, the probable
order being Johnson first, Edmunds second,
and Coelith third. Johnson will also win
the pole vault for Worcester, as he can Hear
in feet 8 inches. Lewis, P. A., will come
nearest to him. THE GRADUATE.
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NOTE— Commencing June 1st our store will
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NEW YORK.
BROWNIE STAMPS.
More fun than a barrel of monkeys. A complete Bet of
these grotesque little people witb everlasting Ink pads.
With them a boy can make a circus in a. minute. To intro-
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It. H. IngersollA Bro.65 CortlandtSt.K.T.CHy.
563
MONARCH^.
King of all Bicycles.
TRADE-MARK.
Five Styles. Weights, 18 to 25 Pounds.
I'rlces, $85 and $1OO.
MONARCH CYCLE CO.
Factory and Main Office, Lake and Halsted Sts. , Chicago.
Eastern Branch : 79 Reade St. & 97 Chambers St., N.Y.
The C. F. GUYON Co., Ltd., Managers.
HARPER'S PEIIODIULS.
Per Year:
HARPER'S MAGAZINE Postage Free, $i 00
HARPER'S WEEKLY 400
HARPER'S HAZAR " 400
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE 2 00
Booksellers and Pos'-ma^crs ittiuallu TV.WV M^.-..-< //;-
(tons. Subscriptions sent direct to the publisher* should
be accompanied bit Post-office Money Order or Draff.
HA11PEK & BROTHERS, Franklin Square, N.I.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
BICYCLING
Copyright, ISU5, by Harper & Brothers.
This fjepartment is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the
Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject. Our
maps and tours contiiin much valuable data kindly supplied from the
official maps and road-books of the League of American Wheelmen.
Recognizing the value of the work beinff done by the L. A. W lh>*
Editor will be pleased to fiirjiish subscribers with membership blank*
and information so far as possible
rriHE MAP THIS WKEK is perhaps one of
J_ tin1 best in New Jersey which can be
taken by a New-Yorker without too long a
journey before reaching; the starting-point.
It not only extends to Patersou, which is a
good eighteen-mile ride, and, with the re-
turn trip, makes a good half-day run, but
it extends to Pine Brook, twenty-nine miles
altogether, which is the first stage on the
tour from New York to Wilkesbarre, Penn-
sylvania, and thence ou to Bnflalo.
THE HIDER SHOULD TAKE the Fourteenth
Street ferry from New York to Hoboken,
and his first object then is to get to the
Boulevard. The road to the Boulevard is
direct from the ferry, with a sharp turn to
the right a few minutes after leaving the
ferry-house, where the railroad is crossed,
and the rider then comes into the Boule-
vard. After a long gradual ascent, he
should take the first prominent turn to the
left, leaving the Boulevard on the right, and
going northeast to the cemetery, still up-
hill. The road circles this, and keeping
always to the left the rider comes into the
Paterson Plank Road, crosses several tracks
at Homestead Station, with the Scheutzeu
Park ou the right, then runs across the salt
meadows, and finally rides over the Haek-
eusack River. There is but one fork before
he reaches the outskirts of Rutherford, which
is at Washington Grove. He should keep
to the Paterson Plank Road, which is the
turn to the left. The road from Homestead
Station to the road -house at Washington
Grove is macadamized and in reasonably
good condition. From the Washington
Grove road-house, between Rutherford and
Carlstadt, the road is perfectly straight and
level, but is in poorer condition, and some-
what sandy. As the rider passes out of Carl-
stadt he crosses the railroad track, runs a
few hundred yards until the road takes a
sharp curve to the right northward, almost
to the Passaic River. Here he should turn
sharply to the left and cross the Passaic.
This is a somewhat difficult turn, and he
should be careful not to keep on to the
north towards Garficld Post-office. Cross-
ing the river, he soon arrives at a fork,
where be should turn to the right, the left-
hand turn being-Main Street, which, though
the more direct, route to Passaic, is not so
good a road. Tlii.s fork is reached just be-
fore entering Passaic.
PASSING THROUGH PASSAIC, the run is
direct to the cemetery ou the Passaic River
at the outskirts of Paterson. Keep to this
road until you run into Market Street. At
the bridge turn sharp left and pass through
the city of Paterson on Market Street to its.
end. Then turn to the right up a short
NOTE.— Map of New York city asphalted streets in
No. 809. Mup of route from New York to Tarrytown
in No. 810. New York to Stamford, Connecticut, ill
No. Sll. NI-W York to Stuten Island in No. 812.
504
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
grade to the bridge that crosses the Passaic
ax:) in. The rider should not cross the
lu-idge, but should turn sharp to the left
and follow the car tracks through \\ ''-t
Patersou Station to Little Falls. This
stretch of road is iu tine condition, is mac-
adamized and level. From Little Falls it
is a one-mile run to Singac. Immediately
on leaving Singac and crossing the track
the rider comes to cross roads. He should
ki'i-ji on tin- main road, skirting around
with the river on the light, over a hilly
country, by a hotel, into Fairneld; or if he
chooses, he may turn to the left just before
reach ing -Fairfield into Pier Lane. But if
he wishes to make a stop in Fairfi-eld, he
must keep on to the hotel in the centre of
the town. This stretch of country is a roll-
ing macadamized road in reasonably good
condition. From Fairfield, or from the junc-
tion of the main road and Pier Lane, the
road- southward to Franklin Post-office is
in poorer condition and clay, and is much
more hilly. At the junction of the roads
in Franklin the rider should inquire for
Bloomneld Avenue, which is the direct road
to Pine Brook. This is a sandy road, some-
what hilly, and it is necessary to take the
side path. At Pine Brook he has made
about thirty miles, and may stop either at
the hotel just oil' the Bloomtield road about
a mile before reaching the town or at the
hotel in the centre of the town.
BY EXAMINING THE MAP it will be seen
that the same trip may be made by riding
up to I'^oth Street iu New York, taking the
Fort Lee ferry, and riding over the direct
route from Fort Lee through Taylorsville
on to Hackensack, and thence over a reason-
ably good straight road, crossing the Fassair,
and meeting Market Street above the ceme-
tery at the point where the Patersou Plank
Road joins it. A good run would be to take
this latter road, to leave Market Street iu
Paterson, and strike for the fair bicycle
road indicated on the map, which runs
nearly due south through South Paterson,
leaving on the west, or right hand, Mont-
clair Heights, Cedar Grove, Upper Montclair,
and riding into Montclair through Wat-
cluing, where tlie-traiii may be taken for New
York. This is, of course, a somewhat hilly
road.
This Department is conducted in the interest of stamp collectors,
nd the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on tlie subject
0 far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor Stamp De-
partment.
A8UBSCKIBEH ASKS IF THE VALUE of Unit-
ed States postage-stamps is likely to
increase in the future iu a manner tn inalvr
them a safe investment. We can only judge
of the future by the past, and taUinn that
as a criterion, the United States stamps,
with, of course, the exception of the com-
mon low values, will increase iu value in
the future to a far greater extent than they
ever have in the past. There are to-day
many millions of dollars invested in post-
age-stamps for collections, aud while the
question of stamps as an iu vestment was
somewhat doubtful ten or more years ago,
at present the prominent collectors have
less hesitation in investing in rare stamps
than in United States bonds. The former
they know will pay large interest. The re-
cent great increase in the price of all old
United States stamps is due to the buying
up by collectors of all the rarities they cau
got, and the trend of the prices is always
upward, not down.
IT is REPORTED THAT nearly all of the
Columbian stamps on sale at Washington
have been disposed of, only a few values
being left. It is a last opportunity to grt
those much prized stamps at face value, as
the prices will rapidly rise after they are
sold out.
Tin: EitaiT-CEXT STAMP WITH ornamnits
in the corner has been issued, thus complet-
ing the set. The color is darker than the
previous stamp.
THE GRAND-DUKE ALEXIS MICHAELIVITCH
of Russia, who died in March, was an ardent
stamp collector, and although only nineteen
years of age, had already done much for
the pursuit through his writings. He had
planned many greater things to do for phila-
tely, but these the stamp world will lose
through his early death.
WHEN THE NEW ISSUE of Mexico was
placed on sale, a band of music was engaged
for the occasion, and after the Postmaster-
Ci'iieral had opened the post-office window,
the stamps were sold to the strains of music.
E. C. TATNAI.I.. — Lithographed stamps are printed
from stones, while all the United States, and majority
of other stamps are printed from steel plates'. In litho-
graphic printing the line? are coarser and the surface
smooth, while steel-plate printing shows fine lines and
perfectly clean surface. The 1S70-2 issue of France
is lithographed.
A-DVKRTISEME^TS.
STAMPS
Could I have another
Glass of that
HIRES'
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Give the children as much
Hires' Rootbeer as they want.
Take as much as you want, your-
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nothing but good.
A 25 cent package makes 5 gallons.
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a Living Picture
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Avoid Hiibstltutes; accept genuine only,
ivltli buff wrapper and yellow label.
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TAKKANT & Co., Chemists, N. Y.
postage Stamps
,
CTAIUIDQ I 8OO fine mixed Victoria, Cape of G.
OlMIVIrO . H., India. Japan, etc.. with fine Stamp
Album, only I0f. New 8o-p. Price-list free.
Agents wanted at fiOft commission. STANDARD
STAMP CO., 4 Nicholson Place, St. Louis, Mo. Old
U. S. and Confederate Stamps bought.
100 all dif. Venezuela, Costa Rica, etc., only
lOc. ; 200 all dif. Hnyti, Hawaii, etc. , only 50c.
Ag'ts wan ted at 50 per ct.com. Li *t FREE!
€.A.Stegiiiaiin,'27'2'2Eads Av., St. Louis, Mo.
var., all dif., 5c.; 12 var. Heligoland,
15c.; 6 var. I inly, 185S to 1S62, 5c.; 3 var.
iaiiover, 5c. : 35 var. C. American, 50c. Agents wauled.
F. W. 3IILLEK, 90* Olive St., St. Louis, 31o.
all different, China, etc., 10c.; 5 Saxony, 10c.;
40 Spain, 40c.; tf Tunis, 14c.; 10 U. S. Rev-
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CRITTENDEN & BORGMAN CO., Detroit, Mich.
A rare stamp to all sending for my approval sheets
at 50 'c com. Lawrence Trowbridge, Palmyra, N. Y.
WONDER CABINET FREE. Miss inc Link
Puzzle. Peril's Bottle, Pocket Camera. Latest
WirePuiile, Spook Photos, Book of SMgbtof
Hand, Total Value 60c. Sent free with immeni>a
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505
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
TRouno Uable Cbapters.
X-,,. 704— The Will Carle-ton chapter, <'t Fort
Ann, N. Y. It is a srh." .1 1 bapter, and the teachers
have been eleet>-.l as honorary members. Its offi-
cars are Julhi Wright, president : Fred Baker, vice-
president ; Jerry Fineh. secretary ; (iertrnde Holly,
i reasurer ; Mamie Kearans, assistant treasurer. Its
objecl i^ t<> form the nucleus of a school library.
.1. Try Finclj.Fort Ann.
X,;. 705.— The Arlington Round Table Chapter, of
Arlington. Vermont. James S. Graham. Box 110.
Xo.' 706 —The Summit City Athletic Association,
of Aurora, Mo. Officers are Neil G. Garlock, George
Nichols, Guy Garlock, Charles Ruby. Other mein-
li.'i-s ;ire Bert Clark, Arthur Spell, Earl Baker.
No. 707.— The W.J.Henderson Chapter, of Lees-
tmrjf, Fla. Dora Mitchell. Annie Miller, Aunie Hal-
den, Tessie Hall ; George H. McKee, Leesburg.
X,,. 70S— The Outing Athletic Chapter, of Phila-
delphia, Pa. Samuel Luffberry, William Ilanl.m;
n. iinan F. Nauman, Jun.,8 Jefferson Street. All
Knights and Ladies are invited to join.
No. 709.— The Music Literary League, of Tiffin,
Ohio. E. B. Naylor, 166 Monroe Street.
No. 710.— The Uncle Sam Chapter, of Chicago,
111. Earle Morton, Edward Burrell, Melvin Bar-
Inn. Kufus Dickman, Fred Litten ; Evarts Graham,
(',;•.' \Vest Monroe Street.
No. 711.— The Sylvia Chapter, of FranUford, Phil-
adelphia, Pa. Will the Chapter please seud names
of officers?
Who Were Wise as the Wizard.
Tur Wizard gave us one of the best contests we
ever had. Here are the answers : 1. Gilles de Retz,
Marquis de Laval ; Henry the Eighth. 2. Laughing
Water (heroine in Longfellow's "Hiawatha"). ::.
Sir Henry Percie 01 Percy. 4. "A Merry Interlude,"
by John Heywood. 5. Lilly the astronomer. 6.
Madagascar; Luna Islaud. 1- Bacon. 8. Slug; Devil-
fish, '.t. Swallow. Swallow- tailed kite. 10. Shoe-
bird. 11. Aye-aye; Ai; Horse, because it " neighs."
1'j. Book-spider or book-worm. 13. Dollar or gold-
fish. 14. Richard Steele, Thackeray's "Henry Es-
mond.'1 15. Ail old shepherd near Cleoue, Greece,
wlu, was kind to Hercules, to repay which the hero
destroyed the Nemean lion. Iti. Don Quixote. IT.
chirk." IS. Aaron Burr. 19. General Gates. 20. Poe
(I1. .. 21. Holmes. 22. Marcus Tereutins Varro. 23.
An Irish secret society, organized in 1S43. 24. To be
burned as a heretic. 25. Pierre de Rolisard. 26.
Snow ball. 27. Scotland. 28. A great churchbell at
Lincoln Cathedral. 29. Prince Honssain. "Arabian
Nights." 30. Gustavus Adolphus. 31. Earwig; Hand-
cuff; Ear-ring. 32. Smolensk on the Dneiper. 33.
George the Fourth. 34. Rene of Naples, as. Ticks.
36. Jack Cade. 31. Lady Berkeley. 38. John the
Painter; Silas Deane. 39. John Walter, of the Lon-
don Tint's, Nov. 2S, 1814: invented by Koenig. 40.
New Orleans. 41. Mrs. Howe, wife of Lord Howe.
42. Edward Longshaiiks. 43. Richard Cromwell.
44. Gud of Peace and Pleasure among the ancient
Saxons. 45. The initial letters of the twenty -two
chapters of the Book of Revelatinn.
Questions that proved most difficult were 15, 20, 21,
24, 34, and 45. Only six found the 45. Many gave as
its answer the title-page of a dictionary, and enough
A's down the first column to till the number ; but this
would not be a fair question, because, as put lo the
Wizard and to you, it did not cover all of the thing
r. .nured. Frisco could not mean San Francisco, be-
cause in the puzzle there was no apostrophe showing
that part of the word had been cut off. One solver
aitMwred correctly all save four of the questions.
His name is Philip Castner; he is thirteen, and he
lives in Philadelphia. His prize is $10. Two others
did almost as well, and hence large second prizes are
given them. One is Mae Sterner, of Pittsburg, and
the other Edward L. Lyon, of Oswego, N. Y. Their
prizes are $4 each. Third prizes of $1 each are given
to Edward L. Wliarton, New Jersey; Sarah Hodgson,
Tennessee; Albert Walton, Illinois; Raymond Tilley
anil Francis C. Pequignot, Pennsylvania; and M.HI:-
mer J. McChesuey, West Virginia. Fourth prizes,
half-dollars, are sent to J. Benners King, Sydney W.
Stern, Elsie Goddard, Ruth W. Balmer, J. Lawrence
Hyde, Marion Miller, Daniel Llewellyn, and Katie
Bartholow.
Ifoano.
To the Whittier Library Chapter, of Milwaukee,
Wis., belongs the high honor of contributing a
greater amount to the School Fund than any other,
namely. §134 25. Not only so. but its contribution
swells the amount sent by Milwaukee to such a
figure that it enjoys the honor of having given
more than any other city in the Union. The Whit-
tier Library got its high honor by holding a two-
day fair. Its receipts were $143 24. and it kept its
expenses down to below $20. as you can see. Four-
teen Ladies accomplished all this, and their names
are: Mattie Tomanek, president; Luella Elmer,
vice-president ; Margaret Mitchell, secretary ; Hil-
degarde E. A. Eituer, treasurer ; Lenora Loew,
Mary Kuenzli.Rose Faber, Helen Lorenzen, Mabel
Diedrichsen, Alma Kuhn, Delia Volktman, Annie
Voss, Erna Lascbe", and Emily Burke. The Table
thanks them warmly, as it does all who have
helped the Fund, as follows:
Amount in money, last report SU65 32
Amount in foundation materials • 400 °°
$1565 32
We acknowledge from Walter S. Goff,
Walter G. Sill, Richard J. Drake, G. W.
Hinckley, Leverett Belknap, Junior Chris-
tian Endeavor of the First Congregational
Church. Philadelphia, Ralph T. Hopkins,
Albert W. Atwater (on account of enter-
tainment), N. D. Morey, D. G. White, Mary
T. Porter, Helen R. Ludington.Wade Hamp-
ton Chapter, of Spartanburg, S. C., A. C.
Banning, Hubbard Marsh 2d, Martha H. Ev-
ans. Allen H. Wright, Kirk Munroe Chapter,
of Harlan, N. J., Alonzo S. Darragh (on ac-
count of entertainment), Loving Kindness
Circle, of Bangor, Me., Ferdinand Jelke,
Whittier Library Chapter, of Milwaukee,
Wis., Ralph M. Stoughton, Phcebe and Har-
riett Waterman, L. S. Howard, John R. De-
witt. George E. Riegel, Rupert S. Holland,
Miss E. G. Bowes, Robert Louis Stevensou
Chapter, of Cincinnati, Frank R. Semon,
Robert W. Palmer, M. B. Lawtou, and
Maud C. Wiggins 170 11
$1735 43
On interest for us, which we are to have
July 1, if we do well meanwhile 300 00
Grand Total $2035 43
Amount the Table set out to raise $3000 00
The Robert Louis Stevenson Chapter's gift came
from a parlor entertainment, consisting of jokes
from comic papers, illustrated by shadow panto-
mimes. The members number five; Homer A.
Wessel, Jun., Hugh H. Bates, M. L. Bates, C. E. Hoff-
man, and J. H. Bates. Its contribution was the
neat sum of five dollars.
The Table is earning, not begging, this Fund.
Won't you help it to get the balance? It is to
build a school-house for some poor boys who have
none. Why not raise something in that garden of
yours? Or pick some strawberries? Or contribute
what you earn one day?
A Fascinating Walk in Rome.
This has been a very rainy season. In February
it even snowed a little, which is a wonderful thing
in Rome. How I should like to see a big snow-
storm! A few days ago I went to the Museo
Nazionale, which is made in a part of the Baths
of Diocletian. In the entranceway are at least
ten headless women, which we call Bluebeard's
wives, although they are not hung up by their
hair.
Further in is a large "cortile,"and in the middle
of it there are some cypresses which are said to
have been planted by Michaelangelo. And one
may almost believe it. because they look old and
are almost dead. Near them is a fountain, and all
around it are immense animals' heads on pedes-
tals— an elephant, a rhinoceros, a horse, and others
— and there are many vases and statues around
the garden.
In a room on the first floor is a half figure of a
vestal virgjn who has a noble expression on her
face. On the second floor is a large bronze statue
of a pugilist resting. It was found not long ago
when they were excavating to build the Theatre
Nazionale. It is very powerfully done, with its
prominent muscles. Its head is hideous, and he
has many scars and a broken nose. In another
room is a headless statue of a y*oung man on one
knee. This statue is very pretty, and it is a great
pity that it has lost its head.
In one room is a lovely head of a woman asleep,
and lying on a velvet cushion it looks very natural,
although it has lost most of its nose. It has a very
566
peaceful expression. In one room are some old
coins dug up here not many years ago. Ages ago
they were sent from England as Peter-pence by
Alfred the Great, Athelstan, and other kings. The
Baths of Diocletian are now used in many ways
very different from those they were meant for ;
one large vaulted hall is used to store the wood ol
a carpenter, another for coal, and a large part of
the building is turned into a blind-asylum. There
is also a big church made from part of it planned
by Michaelaugelo. It is called Santa Maria degli
Angeli. It is a very handsome church, and Has sev-
eral immense ancient granite columns. Formerly
they had been shamefully plastered over, but now
the plaster has been scraped off. On the floor of
the church is a metal line on some part of which
the sun shines at meridian, and on each side of it
are the Signs of the Zodiac set in marble of many
colors.
Near the entrance is the tomb of Salvator Rosa
with his bust over it. He was a good painter, but
he chose queer subjects. I have seen dark land-
scapes, a picture of a witch, and a group of three
horrible heads of fierce-looking brigands of his.
He was a poet, too, and we have a book of his sat-
ires. We have also some pretty songs of his,
which prove that he was a good musician. In
front of these many buildings, which were once
used for bathing, is a very attractive square with
a lovely fountain which has a splendid flow of
water, and in the evening it is very beautifully il-
luminated by electricity. Near there is the great
Central Station of Rome.
ROMS, ITALY. MARIA OJETTI, R. T. L.
TKllant Corner.
A Newport member asks what numbers on the
head-light of a locomotive indicate. They are the
number of the locomotive repeated on the head-
light, in order that it may be seen at night. A loco-
motive's number is its identification on the books of
the company from other locomotives. We would
like to print Samuel D. McCoy's exchange notice,
but cannot do so. The Table has no exchange
column. Harry A. Light is interested in flowers,
and his address is 27 Pine Street, New York. He
asks how the United States ranks with foreign
powers in point of military strength. The German
army, when on a peace footing, has 546.136 men in
it; the French, 567,464; the Italian, 220,685; the
Austrian, 334,400; the Russian, 1,112,684; the Brit-
ish, 138,410 ; and the United States, 27,957. Great
Britain has in its navy 6790 guns ; France, 6554 ;
Germany, 1361; Italy, 1562; and Russia, 1043. The
United States has about the same number of guns
as Germany, though it has no fewer than sixty
naval vessels, as tugs, school-ships, small steamers,
condemned boats, etc., out of commission and un-
fit for service in war.
Linuie Scbloeman : Jane Porter was born in
Durham, in 1776, and died in Bristol, May 24, 1850.
She was educated at Edinburgh, and afterward
removed to London with her mother and sister.
Here she published Thaddetts of Warsaw, which
was translated into several languages. In 1809 she
published The Scottish Chiefs, a story of the advent-
ures of Bruce and Wallace. Essex Hobarten asks
how to make a simple dynamo. He will find more
detailed information than we can repeat here in
the YOUNO PEOPLE dated January 15, 1895. A copy
may be had from the publishers. The price is five
cents. Any dealer can get it for you.
Two Knights say they collect birds' eggs. Better
not, friends. The eggs belong to the birds. We
are aware that naturalists say it does no harm to
extract one egg from a nest. Perhaps not. when
the purpose is clearly for study. But the Table
cannot do this thing as a pleasure — a mere fancy
for that sort of a collection. Please do not collect
birds' eggs. Chester Lewis, writing from Cincin-
nati, sends no street address. Suppose he writes
again. James F. Rodgers will find an account of
the Johnson Impeachment case in any history,
Moore's American C'migress, for example. The Sen-
ate refused to sustain the impeachment, hence one
might say that it thought it unjustifiable. Stanis-
laus Bloch, 5 Krueza Street, Warsaw, in Russian
Poland, has Russian and Finland stamps to trade,
and says he will answer all letters. Carl Deal : The
Order has no gold badges, but it has been suggested
that it provide such.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
HPUDDING
STICK
:,riiii.-nl is conducted in
...j,l the Editor will be pi.
the suljjtct 30 far as possible. Corresp.
IS it right to care about cue's clothes, and
to like to have pretty and becoming
things ? Why, of course it is riot only right,
but a positive duty to have one's wardrobe
in good order, and to wear colors and shapes
\vhich suit cue's style and complexion. The
girls for whom I write are old euongh to
take intelligent interest in their clothes ;
some of them may even buy their own ma-
terials, and cut aud make their every-day
frocks and waists for themselves. Every
girl should understand the principles of
dress-making, so that she may know how
much stuff needs to be used in a gown, and
regulate for herself the sort of trimming
which will finish her costume appropriately.
GKOWIXG girls do not need many dresses
at once. A pretty toilette for best, which
may at this season be of wool cre"pou or of
summer silk, aud a serviceable frock of serge
or some other strong woollen stuff for every-
day aud roughing occasions, will meet the
requirements of ordinary life. A girl should
have besides these, for summer, one or two
dainty ginghams simply made, a half-d"/i-n
shirt waists, four of linen or percale, and
two of silk, and a white gown either of
Swiss muslin or China silk. A sailor hat
for common use. a wide-brimmed picture hat
for very best, and a jaunty little toque will
be enough in the way of covering for the
head, and she will be wise to have, if she
an. several pairs of shoes. It is economy
o have duplicates of one's shoes and boots,
is these last much longer when frequently
hanged and relieved. For tramping almur
he roads aud hills one needs, as also for
he city promenade, an absolutely eomfort-
ble walking boot, with broad soles, low
eels, and a shape that tits the foot to per-
eetiou. Too loose a shoe is as disagreeable
Hid as bad for the foot of its wearer as one
vhich is too tight. A dress boot may be of
loth aud patent-leather or of soft kid. Let
ue insist, girls, on your keeping your boots
n order, so far as the buttons are concerned.
Nothing gives one so careless an appearance
is a boot from which buttons have fallen.
GLOVES should be kept in order just as
shoes are. As they are a very expensive
>art of one's outfit, one should care for
;hem nicely. lu taking off your gloves, pull
ihem from the top downwards, so that they
are wrong side out when they come off.
Straighten them at your leisure, aud keep
?our very best when not in use folded up in
;issue-paper, and in a box. Chamois gl"\ ea
are nice for every day, and have the advan-
tage of standing a good deal of rough wear.
They are to be preferred for gardening, driv-
ng, rowing, aud sweeping. I take it that
among you are many girls who sweep their
own rooms, aud do not wish to have hands
blistered from the broom.
/
IVORY 5 GAP
IT FLOATS
Reject any soap or washing compound that will cleanse without an
expenditure of time and labor. "What is well done is done soon
enough," and Ivory Soap will do the work as quickly as it can be done
with safety.
THE PROCTER Si GAMBLE Co.. CIN'TI.
They are EASILY EARNED, and it requires NO MONEY
We want the services (in light, pleasant, honor-
able work) of
BOYS, GIRLS, GENTLEMEN, LADIES.
\Ve pay generously for these services — in cash, if
you like, or by giving a much larger value than you
would deem possible, in such articles as Safety
Bicycles (all the way from the 24-inch wheels for
the younger boys and girls up to the finest safeties
for ladies and gentlemen — yes, even including the 18
or 19 Ib. bicycle for "scorchers"), Fishing Outfits,
Watches, Cameras, Air Rifles (lots of fun with
these for the whole family — no powder, no smoke, no
danger — nothing but compressed air), Shot Guns, etc.
Any of these additions to your summer pleasures
may be secured practically FREE in return for a
little of your time and energy. 'Full particulars by
return mail.
ALPHA PUBLISHING CO., 212 Boylston St., Boston, Mass.
hour- TOD can make money with it. A font of
prett? type, also Indelible Ink. Tjp« Holder, PsdJ
and Tweeters. Bent Linen Marker; worth $1.00.
Sample mailed FREE for lOc. a tamp* for postage on
outfit and large catalogue of 1000 Bargains,
Cortlaodt St.N.Y. City
Carry in pocket. Takes 25 perfect pictures
in OIIP Ionium — rc-loit-iiiiu- o.-l> LMr. \-k
\inir .l.-.il'T for it, in- -'-nil for !r..-c hook Jet
"All About the Kombi."
ALFRED C. KEMPER, _
Branches Londnn, Berlin. 132-134 Luke Street, Chicago
BASE BALL.HOWTO PLAY IT.
A Great B""k, fi.mtains all the rules; also
the secret of pitching curved balls, and to
bat successfully. Rules for Football and Ten-
nis. .Every player should have it. Entirely
newand hanaaomely illustrated. ThisOreat
Hook. Free to any one sending us 1O
cents to par postage. Also Catalogue Guns,
Revolvers, "Musical Instruments, Magic Tricks.
«-U. For
se 15:
elta, IB
IBat. BATESSPORTING CO., 1OO High St. .Boston, Mass.
MUSTACHES AND
GOATEES.
Fun for the boys,
omplete dis-
,._e; Fine hair
I goods. As Sample
of our 1000 Nuvel-
V. CITY.
All for 10c. Orrt<kP fl"Scfe-_-
!*K1.9.'> we will send Our Buwe "Ball
Out til. consisting of 9 Caps, 9 Bella, 1 Ball,
FALSE
DEAF
NESS & HEAD NOISES CURED
livmv INVISIBLE Tiii-iiliir Cusliions. Have helped
more to conil UCJlDinS than a11 other de'
' Help ears as glasses
,f proofs FREE
es combined. "Whispers IlCMIid. _
eyes. F. lll«<oi. 858 B'dway.N.Y. Boote
Songs.
Franklin
Square
Collection.
HARPER'S NEW CATALOGUE,
Thoroughly revised, classified, and indexed, will be sent
by mail to any address on receipt of ten cents.
567
It would be difficult, if not impossible,
to gather more features of interest into a
work of this kind. Not only are many of
the best songs and hymns in the English
language here given — both old and new —
but there are also songs and hymns for
children and the schools. There are songs
of home and of country, of love and fame,
of heart and soul, of devotion and praise,
with their sad and sweet or lively melodies,
ami with grand old chorals that stir tbe heart
and lift it in worship. Besides the words
and music, explanatory and historic notes
are given to indicate their origin and signi-
ficance. These books cannot fail to become
immensely popular. — Lutheran Observer.
Sold Everywhere. Price, 50 cents; Cloth, $1.00.
Full contents of the Several Numbers, with Speci-
men Pages of favorite Songs and Hymns, sent by
Harper *& Brothers, New York, to any address.
THE SAD FATE OF A MISCHIEVOUS ELEPHANT.
DOGS IN WARFARE.
DURING Boii:i)>:ii -ti-'s campaign in Italy, says a writer on
•clogs, as au aid to military operations, a (log whose name
holds a place in military history did service as scout and
spy, and showed a reasoning power that more than once
came to the aid of Napoleon's army. At Marengo the quaint-
looking poodle Mustache on several occasions prevented
the regiment falling into the enemy's ambush, and such
confidence had the soldiers in his sagacity that they fol-
lowed where hp led, and met with considerable success.
When Mustache died he was buried with military honors,
and was sadly missed by his comrades in the regiment.
Another dog, known to fame as Dellys, held for a long
time the grade of corporal in the Second Eegiment of
Zouaves of the French army in Africa. The Arabs used to
kill the French outposts by crawling up to them in the
dark and stashing them, until Dellys made his appear-
ance, when he soon turned the tables on the enemy. The
Zouaves shaved the dog, tied small branches on his hack,
and taught him to advance slowly on the Arab sentinel,
stopping at the slightest indication that he was noticed,
and, when near enough, spring on the man, and seize him
by the throat.
In ten nights seven Arab sentries were thus killed by
the brave dog. For these and other services he was made
sergeant, with stripes attached round his fore legs. One
day IMlvs was induced to wander from the camp, and
was killed by the enemy. The Zouaves, furious at his loss,
immediately besieged the neighboring village, and not-
withstanding its almost inaccessible position on the rocks,
took possession of the place in about au hour. Dellys's
death was avenged.
In the Thirty-second Eegiment of the French army,
while manoeuvres were taking place a few years ago, ex-
periments were made with the dogs trained by Lieutenant
Jnpin, which acted as sentinels and were stationed at some
distance from the camp, and gave notice by a peculiar bark
when any one approached within four or live hundred
yards of the post.
TRAINING FOR A PIRATE.
Ax item concerning Washington Irving, for the truth of
which we cannot vouch, although it contains a deal of good
advice for certain youngsters of the present time, has lately
rome to our notice. It is to this intent:
Washington In ing, in his youth, had a longing to go to
sea and be a pirate. He determined to make the attempt,
but wisely decided to prepare himself for it by preliminary
experience. He began by eating salt pork. That made
him sick, lie then slept for a night or so on hard boards.
That made, him sore. It was enough. He had no more
desire to go away. Other hoys who want to capture meu-
of-»ar. or who desire to go scouting and scalp Indians,
would do well to imitate young Irving's example.
ANECDOTE OF LESSING.
ABSEXT-MIXDEDNESS has been frequently a characteristic
of men of fame. It is to be supposed, no doubt, that their
minds have been so wholly absorbed by great matters that
the smaller, more trivial things of life have been con-
sidered unworthy of their attention. Among men of this
stamp who have suffered in this way was Lessiug, a famous
German writer of plays and books of criticism. Lessing
discovered at one period of his life that he was being robbed
of his ready money by some person in his home, and, un-
able to determine who the culprit was, he put the servants
of his household to a test by leaving a handful of gold
upon his breakfast table one morning.
Meeting a friend he told him what he had done.
"That was risky," said his friend. "How much did you
leave there ?"
" Dear me !" cried Lessiug. " I quite forgot to count."
A BUSINESSLIKE BEGGAR.
THEY tell a story of an enterprising beggar of Paris
who went about with a sign "I am blind" hung around
his neck.
" But you are not blind !" said a man of whom he asked
alms.
"I know that," said the beggar. "But the man whose
business I bought was. He used to make ten francs a day
on this route with this sign. I bought him out. Pray
help a poor blind man a little, sir."
A CURIOUS DEFINITION.
A GliEAT mauy persons have discussed the question as
to what is the true definition of the word gentleman. The
ideas advanced on the subject are generally entertaining,
novel, and of great variety, but there has probably never
been a more singular definition given than that of the
Irishman who was asked his opinion on the subject.
"Sure, sorr," he replied, " a gintlemau is a — well, oi
should say he was a mou what ates jam on his mutton,
sorr."
A BARBER'S JOKE.
A WELL-KXOWX American clergyman went into a barbei-
shop one morning, and being somewhat of a joker, said to
the barber, " My friend, you may cut my hair as short as
you would like my sermons to be."
The barber immediately got out his razor and proceeded
to shave the doctor's head.
" Hold on !" cried the doctor. " Are vou " oin<* to take it
all off?"
" You told me to. doctor," said the barber. •' I don't want
any of v our sermons."
:H
HARPEKS
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, by HARPKE & BROTHERS. All Riglits Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 8-4.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JUNE 4, 1805.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A TEAR.
t*
HEROES OF AMERICA.
THE F L A G - B E A K E R.
BY THE HONORABLE TI1EODOKE ROOSEVELT.
N no war since the close of the great
Napoleonic struggles has the light-
ing heen so obstinate anil bloody
as in the civil war. Much has
been said in song' and story of the
obstinate courage of the Guards at
Inkrrinan, of the charge of the
Light Brigade, and of the terrible
fighting and hiss of the German
at liars la Tour and Gravelotte.
The praise bestowed upon the.
British and Germans for their valor, and lor the loss that
proved their valor, was well deserved. But there were
over one hundred and twenty regiments, Union and Con-
federate, each of which in some oue battle of the civil war
suffered a greater hiss than any English regiment at Ink-
cnnaii or at any other battle in the Crimea; greater loss
than was suffered by any German regiment at. Gravelotte,
or at any other battle of the Franco-Prussian war. Xo
European regiment in any recent struggle has suffered such
losses as at Gettysburg befell the 1st Minnesota, when 82
per cent, of the officers and men were killed and wounded ;
or the lllst Pennsylvania, which lost 70 per cent., or the
•-Vit] i N'orth Carolina, which lost 7'.' per cent.: such as at
the second battle of Mammas befell the 101st New York,
which lost 74 per cent.; and the 21st Georgia, which lost
7ii per cent. At. Cold Harbor the 25th Massachusetts lost
7n per cent., and the 10th Tennessee at C'liickamanga 68 per
cent.; while at Shiloh the ','th Illinois lost 63 per cent. .and
the b'th Mississippi 70 per cent.; and at Antietaui the 1st
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Texas lost 82 pel cent. Tin- loss ,>f tin- Light I'.rigade iu
Icillcil anil wounded in its famous charge iit I'.alaklava was
"i PIT rent.
These figures show the terrible punishment endured by
these regiments — chosen at ranilipti] I rom the lieail of the
list — which shows the slaughter roll of the eivil war. Yet
the Shattered re ant of each regiment preserved ils or-
ganization, and many of the severest losses were suffered
b\ regiments in the hour of triumph, and not of disaster.
Thus, the 1st Minnesota at Gettysburg suite red its appalling
loss vv liile charging a greatly superior force, which it, drove
before it ; and the little h in Idle of vv minded and mi wound-
ed men who survived their victorious charge actually kept
Ipolh the ilag they hadeaptnred and the ground from which
they had driven their foes.
A nnmlier of the- Continental regiments under Washing-
ton, i.ivrne, and Wayne did valiant lighting, and suffered
severe loss. Several of the regiments raised on the North-
ern frontier in 1-14 showed, under IJrnwn and Scott, that
they were aide to meet the liest troops of I On gland on equal
terin^ in t he open, and ev en to ov ermateh them in fair fight
with the bayonet. The regiments \vhieh in the Mexican
war. under the lead of Tayloi'. captured Monterey, and heat
back Santa Anna at. Hnena Vista, or whieli, with Seort as
commander, stormed Molino Del Key and Clia|>nllepoc,
proved their ahility to hear terrilile loss, to wrest vin.nv
from overwhelming nnmhers, and to carry hy upc'ii assault
positions of formidalde strength held by a veteran army.
But in none of these three wars was the fighting 30 resolute
and bloody as in the eivil war.
( 'mint less deeds iif heroism were performed by Northerner
and by Southerner, by officer and by private, in every year of
the "real struggle. The immense majority of these deeds
\v nit unrecorded, and were known to few beyond the imme-
diate participants. Oftho.se that were noticed it would lie
impossible c\i' n to make a dry catalogue in ten such volumes
as this. All that can he done is to choose out two or three
act- of heroism not as exceptions, but as examples of hun-
dreds of others. The times of wai are iron times, and bring
out all that is best as well as all that is basest in the
human heart. In a full recital of the civil war, as of every
oilier great conflict, there would stand out in naked relief
feats of wonderful daring and self-devotion, and, mixed
among them, deeds of cowardice, of treachery, of barbarous
brutality. Sadder still, such a recital would show strange
contrasts in the careers of individual men — men who at one
time act well and nobly, and at another time ill and basely.
Hut though the- uglv truths must not be blinked, and
though the lessons they teach should be set forth by every
historian, and learned by every statesman and soldier, vet
these are not the truths on which it is best worth while
to dwell. For our good-fortune the lessons best worth
learning in the nation's past are lessons of heroism.
From time immemorial the armies of every warlike peo-
ple have se! the highest value upon the standards they bore
to battle. To guard one's own Hag against capture is the
pride, to capture the Hag of one's enemy the ambition, of
valiant soldier. In consequence, in every war be-
twei n peoples of good military ie< oril, feats of daring per-
formed by color-bearers are honorably common. The civil
war was full of such incidents. Out of very many, two or
three stand as especially noteworthy.
i Ine occurred at Fredericksbnrg on the day when halt
tin- brigades of Meaghcr and Caldwcll lay on the bloody
slope leading up to i he ( '..n led crate en frenchmen ts. Among
the assaulting regiments was the f>th New Hampshire, and
it lost L86 out of 300 men w ho made the charge. The sur-
vivors fell back sullenly behind a fence, within easy range of
the Confederate rifle pits. .Insi before reaching it the last of
the color-guard was shot, and the tlag fell in the open. A
Captain, Perry, instantly ran out to rescue it, and, as he
" ai Lied it. was shot through the heart; another Captain,
31urray. made the same attempt, and was also killed; and
so w as a t bird. Moore. Several private soldiers met a like
fate. Thev w ere all killed close to the flag, «nd their dead
bo.ii.s fell across one another. Taking advantage of this
breast w oil. Lieutenant Xettletou crawled from behind the
fence to the colors, and bore back the blood-won trophy.
Another took place at Gaines Mill, where Gregg's 1st
South Carolina formed part of the attacking force. The
nice was desperate, and the fury of the assault un-
surpassed. At one point it fell to the lot of this regiment
to bear the brunt of carrying a certain strong position.
Moving forward at a run, the South-Carolinians were swept
by a fierce and searching fire. Young James Taylor, a lad
of sixteen, was carrying the flag, and was killed after
being shot down three times, twice rising and struggling
onward with the colors. The third time he fell the flag
was seized by George Cotchet, and when he in turn fell, by
Shubrick Hayne. Hayne was also struck down almost
immediatclv, and the fourth lad, for none of them were
over t weuty years old, grasped the colors, and fell mortally
wounded across the body of his friend. The fifth, Gadsden
Holmes, was pierced with no less than seven balls. The
sixth man, Dominick Spellnian, more fortunate, but not less
brave, bore the tlag throughout the rest of the battle.
Yet another occurred at Antietam. The 7th Maine, then
under the command of Major T. AY. Hyde, was one of the
hundreds of regiments that on many hard- fought fields
established a reputation for dash and unyielding endur-
ance. Toward the early part of the day at Antietam it
merely took its share in the charging and long-range
firing with the New York and Vermont regiments, which
were its immediate neighbors in the line. The fighting
was very heavy. In one of the charges the Maine men
passed over what had been a Confederate regiment. The
gray-clad soldiers were lying, both ranks, soldiers and offi-
cers, as they fell, for so many had been killed or disabled
that it seemed as if the whole regiment was prone in death.
Much of the time the Maine men lay on the battle-field
hugging the ground under a heavy artillery fire, but be-
yond the reach of ordinary musketry. One of the privates,
named Kuox, was a wonderful shot, and had received per-
mission to use his own special rifle, a weapon accurately
sighted for very long range. AA'hile the regiment thus lay
under the storm of shot and shell he asked leave to go to
the front, and for an hour afterwards his companions heard
his rifle crack cverv lew minutes. Major Hyde finally,
from curiosity, crept forward to see what he was doing, and
found that he had driven every man away from one section
of a Confederate battery, tumbling over gunner after gun-
ner as they came forward to fire. One of his victims was
a general officer, whose horse he killed. At the end of au
hour or so a piece of shell took off the breech of his pet
rifle, and he returned disconsolate: but after a few min-
utes he gathered three rifles left by wounded men, and went
back again to his work.
At five o'clock in the afternoon the regiment was sud-
denly called upon to undertake a hopeless charge, owing to
the blunder of a brigade commander, who was a gallant
vi i. i;iu of the Mexican war, but who was also given to
drink. Opposite the Union lines at this point were some
hay-stacks near, a group of farm buildings. They were
right in the centre of the Confederate position, and sharp-
shooters stationed among them were picking off the Union
gunners. The brigadier, thinking that they were held by
but a few skirmishers, rode up to where the 7th Maine was
lying on the ground, aud said, " Major Hyde, take your reg-
iment and drive the euemy from those trees and build-
ings." Hyde saluted, aud said that he had seen a large
force of rebels go in among the buildings, probably two
brigades in all. The brigadier answered," Are you afraid
to go, sir?" and repeated the order emphatically. "Give
the order so the regiment can hear it, and we are ready,
sir," said Hyde. This was done, and " Attention !" brought
every man to his feet. A\rith the regiment were two young
boys, who carried the marking guidons, and Hyde ordered
these to the rear. They pretended to go, but' as soon as
the regiment charged came along with it. One of them
lost his arm, and the other was killed on the field. The
colors were carried by the color corporal, Harry Campbell.
Hyde gave the orders to left face and forward, and the
Maine men marched out in front of a Vermont regiment
which lay beside them. Then, facing to the front, they
crossed a sunken road, which was so filled with dead anil
wounded Confederates that Hyde's horse had to step on
570
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
them to get over. Once across, they stopped for n moment
in the trampled corn to straighten the line, and then
charged toward the rig'ht of the 1 tarns. On they went, at
the double-quick, fifteen skirmishers ahead, under Lieuten-
ant Butler, Major Hyde on the right, on bis Virginia thor-
oughbred,and Adjutant Ha.skell to the left, on a big white
lior.se. The latter was shot down at once, as was his horse,
and Hyde rode round in front of the regiment just in time
to see a long line of men in gray rise from behind the stone
wall of the Hagerstown pike, which was to their right, and
ponr in a volley : but it mostly went over their heads. He
then ordered his men to left oblique. Just as they were
abreast a hill to the right 'of the barns, Hyde, being some
twenty feet ahead, looked over its top and saw several reg-
iments of Confederates, jammed close together, and waiting
at the ready ; so he gave the order left flank, and, still at
the double-quick, took his column past the barns and build-
ings towards an orchard on the hither side, hoping that he
could yet his men back before they were cut oft", for they
were faced by ten times their number. By going through
the orchard he expected to be able to take advantage of a
hollow, and partially escape the destructive flank tire on
his return.
To hope to keep the barns from which they had driven
the sharpshooters was vain, for the single Maine regiment
found itself opposed to portions of no less than four Con-
federate brigades, at least a dozen regiments all told.
When tlic turn got to tin' orchard fence. Sergeant llenson
wrenched apart the tall pickets to let through Hyde's horse.
While he was doing this a shot struck his haversack, and
the men all laughed at the sight of the Hying hardtack.
Going into the orchard there was a rise of ground, and the
('niifederatcs tired several volleys at the Maine men, and
then charged them. Hyde's hor.-e was twice wounded, but
was still able to go on. No sooner were the men in blue
bey 01 nl t lie fence tli iii i the\ got into line, and met the Con-
federates, as they came crowding behind, with a slaughter-
ing fire, and then charged, driving them back. The color
corporal was still carrying the color-, though one of his
arms had been broken; lint when half-way through the
orchard Hyde heard him call out as lie fell, and turned
back to save the colors, if possible. The apple-trees were
short and thick, and he could not see much, and the Con-
federates speedily got between him and his men. Imme-
diately, with the cry of "Rally, boys, to save the Major,"
back surged the regiment, and a volley, at arm's-length,
destroyed all the foremost of their pursuers; so they res-
cued both their commander and the Hag, which was carried
• off by Corporal Ring. Hyde then formed the regiment on
'the colors, sixty-eight men all told out of two hundred and
forty wiio had begun the charge, and they slowly marched
back toward their place in the Union line, while the New-
Yorkers and Vermouters rose from the ground cheering and
waving their hats. Next day, when the Confederates had
retired a little from the field, the color corporal, Campbell,
was found in the orchard dead, propped up against a tree,
with his pipe beside him.
A CHINESE C1?E\V.
OVER the mantel in Grandfather Sterling's dining-room
hung the picture of a great Newfoundland dog, paint-
ed so true to life that it seemed possible to run one's hand
through the masses of rough curly hair as the big honest
brown eyes looked down wistfully at the table just below
the heavy oak frame.
One winter day when Ralph Pell and his grandfather
met at breakfast- time, a northeast wind was whistling
around the corner of the old mansion, and hurling the snow
with a musical tapping against the window-panes.
The white-haired sailor looked np at the picture of the
noble animal, saying, with a touch of affection in his voice:
"Well, Nero, good old fellow, this is one of the kind of days
you used to love. How you enjoyed plunging and rolling
into a big snow drift, and making the white flakes flv !"
"Grandpop," said Ralph, "you have never told me about
Nero. Dili lie ever go to sea with you .'"
"Go to sea with me, boy? Why, Nero was first mate
with me once, and a good one, too, when I had a Chinese
crew on my \ csscl."
" Oh, do tell me the story, please, grandpop," exclaimed
Ralph, "for it must be a funny one."
" I'm ! Nut so funny as you think, perhaps ; but I'll spin
you the yarn, and let you judge. Well, when I was a st rap-
ping young fellow, 'way back in the forties, I sailed out of
the port of Boston as mate of the bark Euijlt; bound to
Hong-Kong, which place, as your geography tells you, is in
China. We had a quick passage out, but found nothing
in the way of a good freight just then offering for home, so
we remained for several weeks with our mud-hook — as
sailors call the anchor — dropped in the same place. It was
the unhealthy season, and, one by one, our crew sickened,
and were sent on shore to the hospital. Next the Captain
was taken down, and I found myself, with the second mate,
the only man left on board the vessel.
".lust at this time the Captain was offered a good pay-
ing charter to carry a cargo up the coast, so be ordered me
to ship a new crew for the trip, and to take his place as
Captain, saying that he would lie himself again vi hen I re-
turned. There was not a white sailor to lie engaged in the
port, so I shipped a crew of coolies, as the lower class of
natives are called, stowed my cargo, and set sail; but as
this class of Chinamen are very dirty in the way of their
clot lies and habits, I took care to lock the door of the fore-
castle-house, in which the sailors sleep, and to make the
natives take, up sleeping quarters on a lot of mats thrown
on top of the cargo in the hold.
"As ill luck would have it, the poor second mate, who
had made several voyages to the pig-tail country, and
could talk pigeon-English so as to be understood by the
moon-eyed sailors, went out of his head with the fever, and
jumped overboard in his delirium the second night after
leaving port. This left me to deal with a crowd of men
who could not comprehend a single order I gave them.
However, as the place to which we were bound was only
about two days' sail away, and as the wind was favorable,
I kept the ship on her course.
" Of all the exasperating times I have ever had, that w as
the worst. When I wanted the crew to man a certain rope,
I was obliged to cast it off the pin, put it in their hands,
and make signs to them what they were to do with it;
but half the time they would slack away when I wanted
them to haul, so that between my anxiety and ill-humor
and their surliness we speedily got on very bad terms, and
I soon noticed an ugly disposition on their part toward
me. I believe that the men would have turned on me if it
had not been for the Captain's big dog Nero, who followed
me wherever I moved, and who growled wickedly at the
evil-looking crew whenever he saw them look threatening-
ly at me.
"In addition to the navigating of the ship, I was obliged
to constantly superintend the setting and taking in of I lie
sails, the steering of the ship, and many other matters, .-o
that I dared not go below even for my meals. The after-
noon of the day before I expected to reach port I was com-
pletely worn out with my labors, and almost sick from lack
of sleep. At last I could stand guard no longer, so I went
through a regular pantomime with the man at the wheel,
signifying that he was to keep the ship going just as she
was. Then I threw myself down on top of the cabin-
house, and immediately fell asleep.
"It was quite dark when I was awaked by Nero shak-
ing me roughly and uttering loud and angry yelps. In
one jump I made the wheel, jammed it hard over, brought
the vessel to her course again, then called Nero, who st I
on top of the cabin whining in an ngly way at the China-
men who were grouped about the door of the carpenter's
shop alongside the galley.
"I saw through the trick at once. The wheelsman had
calculated that by deserting his post, the ship would tly up
into the wind and be wrecked in the strong luve/e then
blowing. In this way the vengeful spirit of the men was
to be satisfied. When they saw that their plan had failed
thi'\ sullenly entered the hold through the booby-hatch,
and that was the last I ever saw of my Chinese crew.
571
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
••I waited a liiilr while, then lashed the wheel, pulled
• ill' my shoes. :ni(l sneaking for \\ard noiselessly closed
tin' ilimr nf tile hatrli and slipped tin- bolt into its socket.
Thai accomplished,! went back to the wheel much easier
in mind, for I knew that the crew could not gain the deck
in any ol her way.
"During the night the wind died completely away, leav-
ing tin- \essel liecalined, anil the sen snlisided into long,
easy swells. I dozed at intervals, trusting to Nero to warn
me of any new (lunger, and so obtained some little rest.
Just before daybreak, upon awakening from one of these
eat-mips, 1 became sensible that the ship was lifting in a
\ery sluggish way to the seas, and that her motion was
new and strange. Casting my eyes over the side, I was
almost pet rilled to see that the vessel had settled in the
vater almost to her deck-line, and was rapidly sinking
under my feet. At the same instant there came a violent
pounding forward from the inside of the booby-hatch and
a chorus of \\ ild and agonizing yells.
"In a. Hash the heathenish trick was revealed to me.
The riiinamen had determined not to he cheated out of their
revenge, so had bored holes in the ship with an anger taken
from the carpenter's chest. They had expected to rush out
on deck in time and escape in one of the boats, probably
leaving me to go down in my vessel, hut found their way
blocked by the locked door of the hatch.
"However devilish their action had been, I could not let
them drown like rats in a trap, so I started forward to their
release, and had just laid my hand on the bolt when the
deck blew np, owing to the confined air, with a report like
that of a cannon, and I was hurled into the sea.
"I fjiiickly gained the surface, but was immediately
drawn down again in the suction of the sinking vessel, and
M hen at last I once more found myself on top of the water
I was so far spent, strong swimmer though I was, that I
would have sunk helplessly, but Nero caught my collar and
held my head up until I recovered my breath and strength.
"Shortly after this some floating object bumped np
against us. which to my joy I discovered to be the large
w leu chicken-coop that had rested on the deck. I
climbed on top of it, and pulled Nero up beside me, and we
drifted about on it until late that afternoon, when we were
picked up by a Chinese junk, and carried into port.
"And now, my boy," said Grandfather Sterling, in con-
clusion, "you have the story of the time that I went to sea
with a Chinese crew, and had Nero for my first mate."
THORNTON'S USELESS STUDY.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
" T WISH to gracious goodness that Thornton J. Seabury
_|_ would make better use of his time!"
That was the earnest exclamation of Mrs. Seabury mother
of Thornton; and it was her earnest conviction that her
son was going to turn out to be an idle, unpractical, shift-
less young man.
" It's not that he's lazy," said Mrs. Seabury, when, in the
.list rex, of lier heart, she went to consult the minister about
her boy. "Xo, he's not exactly what you might call lazy;
hut he works on useless things. He spends hours and
hours in stmh ing things that may lie very interesting and
very line to know; but what good will they ever do him?
lie's w.it to i, lake his way in the world, and I'd like to know
«ho\ going to pay him for learning the names of the stars,
and orbits, and diurnal mot ions, and such things as he talks
a bunt .' ll<- ought to be giving his attention to something
that will help him to earn an honest liviu"1."
"Kilt, my dear Mrs. Seabury," said the Rev. Thomas Tat-
ter, who was a man of education, " there is hardly any
study that cannot be turned to acconut in earning a livin"-'-
though I must admit that I can't help admiring your sou
I'm- loving a study for its own sake."
" Well, I'd admire him too," said Mrs. Seabury, •• if he
1<>\ cd M.IIIC, such study as civil engineering or architecture."
•• ^ es, I dare say that these would promise a more brilliant
future for him ; but we must admit the fact that his "ifts
are for astronomy, and you know it is almost impossible to
overcome the impulses of a hoy's natural gifts. Even as
an astronomer a man may earn a living."
"Well, I suppose there's no help for it," sighed Mrs. Sea-
bury.
AH this time, Thornton, grieved at his mother's opposi-
tion to his favorite pursuit, was nevertheless more passion-
ately attached to it than ever. From early childhood he
had always regarded the heavens with delight and devour-
ing wonder. What were those beautiful golden stars that
tilled the splendid dome of night with their gentle radi-
ance ? Why had God put them there, and what were they
doing ? Little by little he began to absorb the elementary
facts of astronomy, and after a time he found that he could
make no further progress without becoming a thorough
mathematician. So he set himself resolutely to work, and
soon knew all that his school-teacher, a college graduate,
could teach him. Thornton really was a complete, master
of geometry, trigonometry, higher algebra, and even the
more advanced branches of mathematics. His advance in
astronomy was now rapid. He even put in a summer at
uncongenial labor in order to earn money enough to buy
three or four second-hand instruments. He never dreamed
that he might turn his knowledge to practical use ; hut he
studied simply because he loved the subject. And iu the
course of time astronomy repaid him for his devotion iu
ways that had never entered his mind.
At the time when this story begins Mr. Seabury had left
home, on the Maine coast, and had gone to New York to see
about a good situation which had been offered him iu that
city. Times had been hard up in Maine, and Mr. Seabury
had been out of work and could not get in again. One day
he returned home and told his wife that he had secured
an excellent situation in New York, but hardly knew how
to stand the great expeuse of moving his family and his
household goods such a distance. Fortunately, however,
an old friend, Captain Josiah Whitby, of the schooner
Three Elms, came to visit them that evening. As soon, as
he heard of the difficulty he slapped his stout knee and
said :
" Why, lookee, my lad, it's lucky I came. I'm goin' to
sail for New York on Saturday with the Three Elm* in
ballast to get a cargo there for Bermuda. Now it ain't a-
goin' to hurt me to carry all your rixiii's for uotliin', an'
you an' your fam'ly for the price o' what you'll eat."
Mrs. Seabury had some feel ings of timidity about the sea-
voyage, but of course such a kind offer was not to he refused,
and, moreover. Mr. Seabury and Thornton were both de-
lighted at the prospect of the voyage. So during the next •
two days there was a great bustle in the Seabury house-
hold. All their furniture, carpets, and other belongings
were carefully packed up and stowed iu the capacious after-
hold of the Three Elms, for Mr. Seabury 's intention was to
live in a little house at Williainsbridge. Early Saturday
morning Mr. Seabury and Thornton superintended the
storage of the last load of goods, including the trunks con-
taining their clothing and Thornton's precious hooks and
instruments. Then the little family sat down to breakfast
with Captain Whitby in the schooner's cabin, and Mr. Sea-
bury added to his unfailing prayer before eating a petition
lor their safety during the voyage which they were about
to undertake.
"I can't get away from the wharf before three o'clock
this afternoon," said the Captain, " because the Three Elms
can't get over the bar here except at high water."
;'s spring tide to-day," remarked Thornton.
Hello, boy !" exclaimed the Captain ; " are yon a sailor '''
Oh no, sir," said Thornton. " I don't know 'one sail from
another, but I know the age of the mooii,and I know it's
time for the spring tides here."
"Well, even that's worth knowin','' said the Captain, "and
it you keep your eyes open while you're aboard here, you'll
learn a lot of other useful things."
"It will be funny to see Thornton learning useful things ''
exelai d Mrs. Seabury.
"Let the boy alone, mother," said Mr. Seabnrv "he'll
come out all right."
In the afternoon the schooner got under way, with a
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
fine westerly breeze
abenm, and stood
out to sea. As she
passed the light-
house at the en-
trance to the lit-
tle harbor, the Cap-
tain took certain
bearings of it with
his compass, while
Thornton stood by
and watched him
with interest.
"I suppose yon
are fixing the schoo-
ner's position by
bow-and-beam bear-
ings," said the boy.
"That's what I'm
doin',"said the Cap-
tain ; "but ho\v'd
yon know anything
about them ?"
"Oh, I've heard
of them," said
Th urn ton, modestly.
" Well, come and
see me set the pat-
ent log," said Cap-
tain Whitby.
Thornton seemed
to know something
about that too, and
the Captain decided
that although the
boy might have a
good deal of useless
knowledge in his
head, he had hold of
some facts worth knowing,
bury, but she replied :
" What's the good of his knowing those things ? He isn't
a sailor."
" That's true enough," answered the Captain, remember-
ing that the boy did not know one sail from another.
By sis o'clock the schooner was well out to sea, and as it
Crew dark the Captain came ou deck with his sextant.
Thornton became intensely interested.
" Going to take Jupiter for latitude, Captain ?" lie asked.
"That's what," was the reply ; " but what do you know
about it ?"
"Oh, I'm not so ignorant that I can't tell what latitude
and longitude are, "said Thornton; "and I know that Ju-
piter will be on the meridian at 8.32 to-night."
" Well, then, you know some more things that are worth
knowiu' to a sailor-man, anyhow," declared Captain Whit-
by.
For twenty-four hours the schooner glided along slowly
and quickly, the wind constantly drawing ahead and for-
cing her oft' her course. Then it fell dead calm, and a heavy
swell began to roll in from the southeast.
'• Mother," said Thornton, " dou't be frightened, but we're
going to have a storm."
"Mercy sakes!" exclaimed Mrs. Seabury ; "how do you
know ? The Captain hasn't said so."
•• The barometer has fallen rapidly for the last six hours,
and the wind has been backing from west to southwest
and so on around to southeast," said Thornton, "and there's
going to be a gale. The Captain hasn't said anything, be-
cause he docs not wish to frighten you."
Two hours later it began to blow in short uneasy puffs
from the southeast, and Captain Whitby ordered the top-
sails and foretopmast stay-sail taken in. He laid the ves-
sel by the wind on the starboard tack, intending to push
out as far as possible from dangerous proximity to the
coast. At six o'clock iu the evening it was blowing fresh-
ly, and the long swells were cut up into foaming ridges.
" Get the fore-sail off her !" cried Captain Whitby to his
A CHEER WENT UP, AND THE MATE SHOOK HANDS WITH THORNTON.
He said as much to Mrs. Sea-
little crew, and presently the big sheet of canvas was furled
snugly on its boom.
'• In jili, and lay aft to reef the mains'l !"
It was wild weather now, and no mistake. Tin- big roar-
ing green billows came raging down out of the dusk in the
southeast, and as the schooner would lean far over to meet
them it looked as if they were going to bury her. But as
each sea approached, the schooner's bowsprit would swing
upward with a great heave, the sea under-raii her, and down
she came with a crash and a cloud of spray into the screech-
ing hollow.
"I'll have to ask you all to go below, "said the Captain;
" it isn't safe for you to be on deck. You might get washed
overboard."
Shut in the badly lighted little cabin, with the one lamp
swinging madly, the agonized groaning of timbers all
around them, and the thunder of tons of water falling ou
the deck above them, the Seaburys began to wish that they
had never left their little home to go out on the treacher-
ous ocean. They did not go to bed. but sat on the lockers,
holding fast with both hands, and momentarily expecting
that some terrible catastrophe would happen. About three
o'clock in the morning they heard a loud shout and a heavy
thump on the deck, followed by a rapid shuffling of fn-t.
"What can have happened ?" exclaimed Mr. Sea bury.
"Oh, they're coming to tell us that we must take to the
life-boat !" cried Mrs. Seabury.
The cabin door was pushed open, and three sailors stum-
bled in, bearing the inanimate form of the Captain.
"One o'the main throat-halyard blocks fell from aloft."
said a sailor, " an' hit hii.i. I reckon he's hurt bad.''
The Captain was laid in his bunk, and Mrs. Seabury for-
got her fears in her anxiety to do something for him. And
being one of those '• handy " New England women, she could
do a good deal, too. She could not find any broken bones,
so she decided that the poor man had been struck on the
body and injured internally. With the help of her hus-
band, she prepared and administered a soothing drink
which put the sutt'erer to sleep. Poor Thornton sto^d about
573
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
idly, and keenly feeling his helplessness. But at eight
o'ci. ii -k hr eased his mi ml a little- by winding the chro-
uonieter.
In the mean time the storm hail broken: it was only a
siinimci uale.and at nine o'clock the wind shit'teil to north-
svest,and the sun came out. Thornton anil his I'alhrr went
on deck, leaving Mrs. Scabury to atleml to the Captain, who
was awake anil in much pain. The mate came up to Jlr.
Seabury, ami said:
• I hi,-, are a ser'ons Inisiness. sir."
•• Yes," answered Mr. Seabury ; " I suppose you're in com-
mand now."
•• Waal. 1 am: lint I wisli I wasn't."
"Why,how's thai >,"
" Wh\ . \ e SIT." said i lie mate, scratching his head." I kin
sail the schooner all right ; lint I can't, navigate her. I'm
bio wed el1 I know w'ich \\a\ to steer now."
" Why not sail west till you sight land .'"
'"Cause I might hit a shoal or rocks, uot knowin' they
was there."
"Please ma\ 1 speak f" said Thornton.
•' Well, what is it f" asked his father.
"I can navigate the schooner, though I can't sail her."
said the boy. earnestly.
"You! Why, you never were a1 sea before!"
"That makes Lio difference." said Thornton: ••sailors
na\ igale l.\ 1 hr sun. moon, and stars, and I know all about
them. Father,! I'lnur that 1 can navigate this schooner
into New York Bay. The chronometer is running; I know
where the captain's sextant is, and I wish you'd let me
try."
. " We must speak to the Captain about this," said Mr. Sea-
bury.
They went below and laid the matter before the Cap-
tain. In spite of his sufferings lie became deeply atten-
tive. He asked Thornton this question :
"How are you goin'to lind the po.-niou o' the schooner
now ? I've lost her rcckonin'."
"I'll take a chronometer sight right away, and another
two hours from now, and work out the position by astro-
nomical cross-hearings — Sumner's method, I think you sail-
ors call it."
"Can you work Sumner's method .'"
" ( Vriainly, with sun, moon, or stars."
••Then you know more navigation than I do, "said the
Captain.
••It's nothing but applied astronomy, you know," said
Thornton, "and I've always been studying astronomy."
"You go ahead and see what you can do, my boy," said
the Captain. "Let Bowers, the mate, handle the schooner,
and you tell him which way to steer."
Thornton went at once to the chronometer and set his
•\\atch by it. Then he went on deck with the Captain's
sextant in his hand, and the crew stopped work to stare at
him. He had a short talk with Bowers, who explained the
situation to the men.
"If the Captain says it's all right," said one of the meu,
" I s'pose it is."
Jint, nevertheless, they could not understand how any
pels mt a sailor could be a competent navigator, though
the simple fact is that navigation has not necessarily any-
thing to do with seamanship. The schooner was hove to
for two hours, because Thornton explained to the mate that
he desired to keep her in one place until he ascertained her
position. At 1 l.l.'i ihe l»o\ took his second sight and went
below to work out his problem. His father stood over him
in wonder while he tilled a sheet of paper with sines, co-
sines, secants, and such things. At last the computation.
of the position was completed, and Thornton had to ascer-
tain the course to be steered. He got the Captain's chart,
and. marking the ship's place on it. went into the sufferer's
cabin and showed it .to him.
" 1 guess you must be about right, boy," said the Captain.
"In settin' the course, you want to get well out here."
And the Captain indicated with his finger certain dau-
li.it must be given a wide berth. Thornton set a safe
course,! deck, told the mate to get the schooner
under way S. '. YV. The men sprang to their work willingly,
and in a very few minutes the Thrr-e Elms was cleaving her
•way over a comparatively quiet sea. For three days
Thornton continued his labors as navigator, and on the
morning of the fourth he announced that the Highlands of
Xavesink ought to be sighted from the masthead at. eleven
o'clock. A sailor was sent up to look out for thein. The
hour of eleven came, and he was silent. The mate and the
crew looked gravely at the anxious boy. Could he have
been iii error.' Five minutes passed, and the men began
to talk angrily. Then the man aloft cried:
" Land, ho ! It's the bloomin' old Highlands! I know
that lump!1'
Then a cheer went np, and the mate shook hands with
Thornton. Before supper the schooner was in tow of a
tut;, iioing up the Swash Channel.
"Well, mother," said Thorn ton, " do you think astronomy
is such a useless thing now .'"
And she was obliged to admit that she had never thought
of it as the foundation of navigation. Thornton is at
present the assistant to the government astronomer of
a European country, and is receiving a comfortable sal-
ary.
HELEN'S CHOICE.
BY ANNIE HAMILTON DONNELL.
HELEN set the baby down on the lloor, and the pan of
clothes-pins beside her. '• There, now. we'll see," she
said, gayly. She got down, too, and arranged the pins in
an orderly little circle astride the pan's edge. They went
way round, and then Helen, with a sweep of lingeis, sent,
them all clattering into the pan again. The baby crowed
in wide-mouthed, toothless ylee.
" roil do it now, baby — see, just as I do," Helen said.
She sprang lightly to her feet and went back to her
dishes. The water was cold, and the teakettle almost
empty, and mutton-chops did make such greasy pla'es.
l!nt Helen splashed iu cheerfully. She was thinking of
Uncle 'Gene's letter on the mantel-piece, and the tinal de-
cision about it that very morning over the mutton-chops.
It made her sing in sudden ecstatic anticipation, \\hat
did she care about cold dish-water and uncanny dishes,
when she was going to — She tilled out the thought with
pantomimic action, running scales up and down the ed^e
of the sink with dripping fingers, and executing intricate
tuneless measures amid flying soapsuds.
" Helen, Helen !'' called a sweet plaintive voice from the
bedroom.
" Ycs'm." The musical "selection" came to a quick stop.
Helen hurried in, wiping her hands on her apron and res-
cuing the babyfrom an ignominious descent upon her nose
on the way. " What is it, motherdie ? is your head worse?".
she asked, anxiously. "I'm afraid it's those noisy clothes-
pins."
"No, dear, but there's a draught somewhere. I can feel
it on my neck. And I wish you'd rub my shoulder agaiu.
It's unusually achy this morning."
Helen found the liniment bottle, and went to work with
practised, gentle touch. It was one of the dear invalid's bad
day s, and she had riot tried to get up. Her pale face look-
ed up into Helen's with wistful appreciation of the loving
care. She was thinking of Uncle 'Gene's letter too.
The clock out in the kitchen struck eleven ponderously
as Helen set the bottle away and put the screen before the
window. In half an hour the primary children would be
home, aud close on their heels the older ones. And what
y.hurrying-scurrying little mortals they would be!
"Dear little mother, poor little mother, I'll shut the door
and keep I he Arabs as still as I ever can."
Helen always called them the Arabs when she spoke of
them collectively. It was a familypet name for them. The
baby had toppled into the big pan, and was t'a.st asleep
when Helen went out. She picked her up and laid her
ily beside the mother. Then with wonderful case-
she flew about, finishing the dishes, setting the table for
lunch, aud doing three things at once with nimble dexter-
ity. She met the Arabs at the door with bulling t'ore-
574
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
tinner. They trooped in on tiptoe, sniffing auxiously for
dinner smells.
" I'm awful hungry!" Archie whispered, shrilly.
"So be I — mrfiil .'" Harry echoed. " Arc there sweet-
potatoes, Helen .'"
•• I smell 'em! I smell 'em!" Molly cried, under her breath,
dancing across the floor.
••'Sh! 'sh! Yes, there are sweet-potatoes, but not for Arabs
with dirty faces. Come here this minute, and let me polish
yon up. Oh, Harry, where ever did yon tear your trousers
so ' A great big lion tear!"
"Folks oughter not have fences with splinters to 'em,
then," Harry spluttered, with his month full of soapy water.
"I was crawlin' under to see if Pat Cm-rail's cow chews
num. Bill Miller >a\s so."
" Does she .'" Molly asked, eagerly.
" Well, I'm not certain sure, but I think so. She wouldn't
open her mouth more'n a craek for me to look/'
" I bet she does." little Archie chimed in, •• 'cause I've seen
her HIV own self. She make, her jaws gu just this way —
look!"
Helen smiled in her sleeve, and hi id the little discussion
away in her memory for •• Motherdie's " delectation. The
older boys arrived, and dinner was presently in animated
progress, though everybody tried to keep still — and didn't.
As by magic the sweet-potatoes vanished under the eager
forks and spoons, and the creamy rice followed rapid suit.
The Arabs were a hearty little tribe. \othing pleased
Helen more than to have them appreciate her cooking. She
sighed a little now over the thought that perhaps Mahala
would scorch the rice after she was gone.
"Well, I dread her!" suddenly exclaimed Roy. as if in
answer to Helen's sigh.
••Who?" asked Archie, between mouthfuls.
•• Mahala. She'll seold us like sixty-nine when we make
tracks over her floors, and Helen never does."
"She'll wear hoops," said Molly, holding her little silver
fork in reflective suspension.
" And make-b'lieve banns."
"And cloth slippers, with 'lastics eri^s-ero>s over her
ankles."
" And irliitc s/wAi »</.-•• .'"
Helen contracted her eyebrows sternly. " Stop, chil-
dren !" she chided. " Mahula's a good woman from the top
ot her head —
"Make-b'lieve bangs." murmured irrepressible Archie.
" — to the soles of her feet."
" Cloth slippers, you mean."
Helen's eyes tried riot to twinkle. " She's as much better
th.au I am as — as — you can think," she ended, lamely.
The Arabs laughed in derisive chorus.
"But, honest, Helen, it's goiu' to be so lonesome an'
poky !" Molly wailed over her empty saucer. " We sha'u't
have a speck of fun till you come home again."
" A whole year!"
"Twelve months. Four times twelve's forty-eight.
Forty-eight times seven's —
"Three hundred 'u' sixty-live!" concluded Roy, .scorn-
fully. Roy was in the grammar grade, and was regarded
as an oracle in arithmetic.
The baby woke up and lifted her voice hungrily, and
Helen ran away to her. The busy afternoon followed the
busy morning on swift wings, and it was almost supper-
time before she could sit down and think a minute. Then
she held Uncle 'Gene's letter in her lap and thought about
that. " Let her come soon," it said, "and stay anyway a
year. She has real musical talent, and Bab's Professor
(•rafiiKinu will develop it if anybody can. He's a . genin*.
Besides, we all want her, and the child must need a breath-
ing-spell after trying so long to tame those wild Arabs.
Yon can surely find somebody else to tutor them."
Yes. (di yes. there was Mahala! She was all engaged to
come and do it. She was good-hearted and strong. She
would be .sure to treat them all well and take splendid
care of Morherdie. Helen rocked back and forth content-
edly. They wanted her to go — father and mother, and
the Arabs would soon get used to doing without her. Heat-
Hi lie Arabs! She looked down at the smallest one of them,
still trying to stand the clothes-pins round the edge of the
big bright pan. She was improving steadily.
Let's see — to-morrow — day after — day after that. Then
she was going. It would be a new world opening suddenly
to her, and she shut her eyes to dream the wonderful dreams
more uninterruptedly. Ever since she had drummed baby
tunes on t lie tin cake-box, by the hour at a time, she had been
growing hungrier to learn to materialize the untamed melo-
dies that ran riot in her mind, and made her fingers tingle
with impotent longing. And now it was coming — her
chance! Three days away! But as the three days came
and went Helen's visions grew more clouded and overcast
with secret misgivings. She found herself worrying for
fear Mahala would not remember some of the little trivial
comforts she herself had taken such delight in remember-
ing for Motherdie. And there were the baby's soft little
shoes that needed patching^aud Harry's trousers, and the
dish-towels were in dire need of replenishment. If she
only had a dozen hands these last days, and a dozen times
a dozen hours to use them! Her heart misgave her un-
comfortably, lint the\ ii-anliil her to go — of course it was
just right. Nevertheless, her face grew sober and thought-
ful,and something tugged distressingly at her heart-strings.
The day after, and the day after that came. Helen
kissed her mother over and over, and hugged the little
Arabs fiercely, and went away. The houses and people on
the way to the depot danced about di/.x.ilyin a mist, and
>ln- felt dizzy and topsy-turvy in acute sympathy with
them. Her father walked beside her, talking briskly and
constantly. K'ov walked on ahead with her valise and
umbrella, and never once looked around. Helen watched
him t hrongh the same confusing mist, and his straight, slim
little finiire was oddly contorted. He had never looked
bow-legged before, Helen thought in dismay !
The train pulled in and puffed out again, with a little
maid, stricken with sudden, overwhelming forlornness, in
the eorner of one of its seats. A plump, benign-looking
old lady sat just behind her, and watched herewith curious
sympathy. The baby two seats ahead leaned over toward
her insinuatingly, and made her think of the baby and the
doilies-pins. Mahala would never remember the clothes-
pins— new.' And she had forgotten Harry's patch, that
she meant to see to last night surely. Mahala'd forget
Hint. tod. Helen started involuntarily to her feet.
" What is it, dearie .' Yon forgot somethin' .'" The plump
old lady leaned ahead and touched her arm in friendly so-
licitude.
" Yes. oh yes! I forgot the patches on Harry's pants,"
Helen lamented. •• anil the baby's clothes-pins."
" Oh lor, dearie, never mind — never mind ! Patches a in't,
nothin1 much, nor clo'cs-pins, neither. I'm comin' over an'
set with yon. I guess you're sorter hnmsick, ain't yon'
I've got some pep'miuts in my bag. I'm goiu' to see if I
can't chirk you up."
Helen moved her umbrella and hand satchel, and made
room for her new neighbor. The arrangement had its im-
mediate good effects. Somehow the little old lady remind-
ed her of Mahala, though Mahala was angular and tall and
wore steel-bowed spectacles; but she always associated
Mahala and peppermints together — perhaps that was the
reason. Anyway, if Mahala was as kind and thoughtful as
this plump old lady, why need she be anxious and troubled?
Helen was young, and travelling was a delightful nov-
elty. She grew cheerful and chatty, and parted with her
new friend at the Junction with real sorrow. There was
nearly an hour to wait at the Junction. Her train met the
down train home there, she remembered, and she might
send a postal back. But when she began to write, all the
old misgivings and conscieuce-twitchings surged npou her.
She felt selfish and cruel and wicked. What business had
she running away from home, where she belonged, taking
care of Motherdie and the baby and the Arabs? They all
needed her — they all needed her. The words said them-
selves over with dreary repetition in her heart. Back and
forth, up and down the platform, she paced restlessly.
Conflicting emotions fought in hand-to-hand strn.
She ought to go home again. She wanted to go the other
w a \ . The old tingling i[1 her lingers grew almost irrcsist i-
'WHAT IS IT, DEARIE? YOU FORGOT SOMETHIN'?"
ble — the longing to touch piano-keys and draw from them
the music she knew was in her soul. No, of course she
couldn't give it up now. And why need she?
Two whistles sounded in opposite directions. Helen
walked faster thau ever. Oh, dear, dear, dear, why must
the two trains meet right before her eyes ? There they
•were now. She watched the home train come jerkily to a
standstill, and her train approach it on another track. She
stood suddenly still, and began to talk aloud. " That train
goes home," she said, " aud that one doesn't. Which oue
are you going on, Helen Scott? Quick! Are you going
home like a decent girl, or are you going to Uncle 'Gene's
to practise scales like a heatheu and a sinner?" The pas-
sengers were almost all aboard. "Well, you can do as you
please. Helen Scott. I'm going home to patch Harry's
trousers and rub my blessed mother with liniment!"
She darted ahead, and in another minute was on the
train. She never knew how she got on, but there she was.
She settled back in her seat with a deep sigh of relief. The
other train started first, and she shut her eyes so she
wouldn't see it. "Good-by," she murmured, wistfully;
" good-by."
She felt weak and tired. It wasn't easy work having
hand-to-hand, conflicts in her heart. But she was glad she
was going home. How the Arabs would shout! In her
f\rileuieut she had not thought ut' getting a return ticket,
and it didn't occur to her now. She put the ticket her fa-
ther had bought for her in her button-hole, and leaning
bark in the seat, went sound asleep.
A I an hour's end sin- \\ okr up decidedlyrefreshed,aud look-
ed at her little silver watch. They would he just about at
Thompson's Crossing now, she thought, glancing out of the
window. But that wasn't Thompson's Crossing! They7
were drawing into a big bustling station that Helen didn't
iv< o^nize in the least. Men were darting about hurriedly,
and trucks were clattering by her. What did it mean?
MI. rhitched at the sleeve of a brakemau going down the
aisle, aud questioned him nervously. ''<>h M*. Thank
you.'' Hi- passed on. Then that was it. She was going
to Uncle 'Gene's, after all, iu spite of herself! In her hurry
and mental perturbation she had boarded the wrong train
at the Junction, aud it had been the one riot going home to
Motherrtie and the Arabs. She had said " good -by " too. All
her brave righting in vain — no, it wasn't either. She would
stay at Uncle 'Gene's a day, and then go home. When that
was fully decided, Helen felt better, aud began to rather
enjoy the fun and complication of it all. Uncle 'Gene aud
Bab met her at the depot, and overwhelmed her with cor-
dial welcoming.
"There's a letter up home for you, Heleu,"Bab announced.
"I guess they're homesick aud want you back."
"But they won't get you, you kuow," Uncle 'Geue said,
fiercely, tucking her under his arm.
" No more they won't !" answered Bab.
Helen took the little home message up stairs with her into
her pretty new room. She opened it wonderiugly. Why,
what was this?
"Dear Nell," father said. "This is for a bit of a wel-
come and surprise, to make you feel quite contented and
easy about us all. Did you think the mother and I didn't
notice your conscience-stricken little face, and know just
how troubled you were? But we took a notion to make it
a real surprise to you — that Aunt Dolly is coming to help
Mahala out. There, now, open your eyes wide, my dear,
and shut all the windows and squeal ! Aunt Dolly's com-
ing, as sure as you live. She has given up her boarder and
rented her little nest, and is this blessed miuute on her
way usward. So you will not worry about us any more,
for Aunt Dolly's a host iu herself, aud iilintmt as good as our
Helen (the Arabs would scalp me !), only, if you please, I'll
swap her for Helen when the year's up !"
Helen forgot to shut the windows, but she squealed. A
great weight of care slipped off her shoulders on to Aunt
Dolly's.
•• She won't forget the patch or the clothes-pins or any-
tliing!'' she exclaimed. "Aunt Dolly's remember is miles,
miles long!"
Downstairs a door opened, aud through it was wafted up
to Helen a low, sweet strain of music, that grew, second by
secondj t'ulli-r and dn-pcr, till it seemed to embody all her
own glad feelings, and to bear up on its wings beautiful,
prophetic hints of the joy that was on its way to her.
576
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
BY KIRK M U X R O E.
CHAPTER XXVII.
LOST IN THE FOUEST.
IT was not difficult to find the Fox River, for it was the
first stream flowing into tbe Pelly ou the right, aud as
the ice in the latter river was much smoother than it had
been ou the Yukon, our sledge travellers turned into it ou
the' second day after leaving Harper's.
"Now," said Phil, " we must keep a sharp lookout for
Cree Jim's cabin; for as no one seems to know exactly
where it is located, we may find it anywhere between here
aud the head of the stream. At any rate, we can't atl'onl to
miss it."
They did miss it, though, aud after camping one night on
the river, reached its head in a lake that they knew must
be the Fox. Although the day was but half spent, Phil de-
cided to camp at that point.
"You and I, Serge," he said, "must go back down the
river, one on each side, making long detours away from it,
in hopes of finding either the cabiu or some trail leading to
it. At the same time we must keep a sharp lookout for
game. Anything from a hear to a rabbit would be accept-
able now, for if we don't replenish our stock of meat pretty
soon we shall lose our dogs."
'• All right," replied Serge. " Only, Phil, do be careful
and not get lost."
" Never you fear ou that score," laughed the young
leader. " I'll look out for myself; hut see that you do the
same."
So the two lads set forth, leaving Jalap Coombs to pre-
pare camp and boil the oatmeal porridge, which, mixed
with a small quantity of fish,
now formed the dogs' daily
meal.
Phil plunged directly into
the forest, deciding to .start
out with one of the detours
that he had planned. Once
within shelter of the trees,
he found the snow so deep
that but for his snow-shoes
he could have made no pro-
gress. By their aid he was
able to push forward at a
fair rate of speed, which he
determined to maintain, on
as straight a line as possi-
ble, until within half an
hour of sunset. Then he
would bend to the left until
he reached the river, which
he was certain could not be
very far away, and which
he could follow back to
camp even in tUe dark.
So for several hours he
plodded sturdily forward,
keeping a sharp lookout for
any trail of man or beast,
aud making as little noise
as possible in the hope of
surprising something wor-
thy of a shot. All at once
the surprise came from the
other side ; for, with a rush
from behind a clump of
young hemlocks, a huge
brown animal, with great
palmated horns, crossed his
path only a few rods ahead,
aud dashed away at right
angles, flinging the snow to
both sides like a rotary rail-
road plough. Rapid as
were his movements, Phil got iu one flying shot just as he
disappeared.
"It was a moose!" thought the excited lad; "biggest
one I ever saw. And I hit him!" he cried aloud, a minute
later, as he examined the broad trail left by the Hying
beast. " Hit him hard, too," he added, as, noting blood
stains on the snow, and forgetful of everything else, he set
forth iu hot pursuit of his stricken game. "He eau't hold
that pace long, wounded, and through snow as deep as
this," he reflected, '• and I shouldn't be surprised if I found
him at bay inside of a mile. Oh, if I can only get him,
it will settle the food question for the rest of the trip!"
So, with high hopes, and with all his hunting instincts
fully aroused, Phil followed that blood-stained trail, uot
only for oue mile, but for several more, though without
catching another glimpse of the flying moose. Nor could
he discover any sign of slackened speed or diminished
streugth on the part of his huge quarry. The strides were
just as loug as at first, and the snow was flung just as far
on either side of the trail. But for the crimson stains be-
tokening a steady loss of blood Phil would loug since have
given up the chase. They encouraged him to keep on,
"For surely," he said to himself, "no animal, not even a
moose can stand a drain like that forever."
All at once he stopped short and gazed about him with
startled glances. The trail was growing dim; stealthy
shadows -were creeping through the forest. The day was
siient aud night was at hand. "Now I am in for it?" he
cried, bitterly. " Here I am miles from camp without an
idea of its direction or that of the river. My only guide to
either is the trail by which I have just come, and I should
s T '-"
•~* *t •
<n» v »:•
-^^•. --f-~
•COME, MAN. COME WIF NEL-TE. MAMMA SAT COME."
HARPEK'S ROUND TABLE
lose thai in the darkness before, I had gone half a mile.
•n,,. onlj ihing in do is make a hungry camp, and make it
qlljrk, too, before ih<- light is wholly gone."
•J'luis deriding. 1'liil left the trail ami hastened towards a
luiiirh of dead timber that stood a short distance to oue
si,i,,. ||, scraped the suow from a prostrate log, and then,
using one of his snow-shoes as a shovel, dug out a small
space dnwn in Hie ground beside it. A little pile of diy
I w igs and hark and a few st ieks of larger wood were hastily
cnllected and heaped against the log. When he got his
lire well started he would gather more. Now to whittle a
handful of shavings, and then for a blaze. Oh, how good
ii would seem! How it would drive away the horrid lone-
liness, push hack the encroaching shadows, and replace the
deadh chill of the on-coming night with its own genial
warmth! It could not furnish food, of course, and he must
cnduro long hours of hunger, but even that could be borne
with its cheery aid.
And now to light it. Phil had a match-safe in oue of his
inner pockets, win-re he always carried it for just such
emergencies as this, and at length, after a struggle with
his close-fitting parka, he drew it forth. As he opened it
and gazed into its empty interior^ a chill penetrated his
\ cry marrow.
•• What a fool I am! what a miserable careless fool!" he.
cried, in tones of despair. " I knew it was empty two days
ago and meant to refill it. But I didn't, and now I must
sutt'er the consequences. What shall I do? What shall I
do! A night in this place without a fire will drive me
crazy, even, if I don't freeze to death before morning."
As Phil gazed about him in a very agony of apprehension
his glance rested on his rifle leaning against a tree, and a
ray of hope entered his heart. There was fire if he could
only capture and control it. How was it that wrecked
sailors, and lost hunters, and all sorts of people always
managed to obtain fire from a gun, or rather from a pistol,
which was practically the same thing? He tried to recall
what he had read of such experiences. Oh yes! It was
by flashing powder in the pan. But his gun hadn't any
pan. He had never seen one that had, unless it was Kuril-
la's flintlock. Of course, now he remembered, it did have
a place into which the Indian used to pour a little powder
every time he wanted to fire his old blunderbuss. How
Phil wished his Winchester were a flintlock musket just at
that moment. But it wasn't, and it didn't have any pan,
and loose powder was not used in connection with it. But
there was plenty of powder encased in its metallic car-
tridges if onh he could get at it, and could contrive some
plan for adapting it to his purpose.
All these ideas passed like a flash, and Phil had hardly
thought of powder before he was examining one of his ear-
tridivs, and trying to dig the bullet out of its metal shell
with the point of his knife. But it was held too tightly,
and he only pricked his lingers.
Then another plan came into his mind. He laid his rifle
on the ground. Over its stock he spread a square of cotton
cloth, such as he and Serge were accustomed to tear from
t lie great piece provided among their stores whenever they
needed clean handkerchiefs. On the cloth Phil laid a car-
tridge, that he held in position with the sharp edge of his
knife blade, placed so that it would cut just at the base of
the bullet. Then he struck the back of the blade a smart
Idow with a billet of wood, and the job was done. He had
got at the powder.
Hi- poured out two-thirds of the precious mixture, and
rubbed it well into one side of the cloth, -which he doubled
twice and fixed against the log. Then, after stopping the
open end of the shell with a tiny wad of lint to keep the
remainder of the powder from running out, he inserted it
in the chamber of his rifle. Aiming it at the cloth, with
the muzzle about one foot away, and trembling with cold,
or excitement, or anxiety, or with all three, he pulled the
trigger.
Tin- report that followed was hardly as lend as that of a
small fire-cracker, but the success of the scheme was in-
stant. The little llame poured from the muzzle of the
rifle into that powder-impregnated square of cotton cloth
i.united it at once. A moment later it was nestled amid
the bundle of twigs and shavings, while Phil, on hands and
knees, was puffing at it like a pair of bellows.
In two minutes more his fire was a certainty, the black
shadows were already beginning to retreat before its cheery
attack, and Phil Ryder's spirits had jumped from zero al-
most to the figure that represents h'ght-heartedness.
Throwing off his fur parka, that he might the better ap-
preciate its warmth later, and seizing a snow-shoe, he cleared
the whole space between the first log and another that lay
a few yards beyond. Into this opening he dragged all the
logs and dead branches he could find, working with such
energy that at the end of an hour he had a fine large pile,
and was in a glow from the exercise. Now he built an-
other fire against the further log, and piled his spare wood
so that it was beyond reach of either flame.
He next spread a few spruce and hemlock boughs on the
ground between the two fires, selected a medium -sized
chunk of wood for a pillow, donned his parka, drew its great
hood over his head, and, with his rifle by his side, lay down
on a much warmer and more comfortable couch than he
had dared anticipate a couple of hours before.
Phil meant to keep awake so as to tend his fires, but in-
stead of so doing he fell asleep within an hour, and slept
soundly right through the night. When he at length
awoke and sat np, he was chilled and stiff with cold, for
the fires were very nearly extinguished by a fall of snow
that had sifted down through the forest while he slept.
As the poor lad discovered this, he became filled with ter-
ror, for he knew that the back trail was obliterated, and
that all hope of regaining camp by its means was cut off.
Now he was indeed lost. As he gazed hopeless and bewil-
dered about him he caught sight of something that he at
first took to be a dog sitting only a few yards away, and
regarding him hungrily. He spoke to it and the animal
started to sneak away. Then he saw that it was a wolf,
and hastened its movements with a rifle shot.
As it was not yet light enough to commence his search
for the river, or for some stream that would lead him to it,
he begau to throw wood on the fires that he might at least
get warm before starting. While thus engaged he was
startled by a cry apparently in the voice of a child that
rang dolefully through the silent forest. Again he heard
it, plaintive and long-drawn, and this time nearer than be-
fore. It was so weird a cry to be heard in that place and
at that time that he shuddered as he listened for its repe-
tition. Its very humanuess added to its terror. At its
third utterance Phil seized his rifle, cocked it, and faced the
direction of the sound, expecting in another moment to be
confronted by the tawny form of a mountain-lion.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
PHIL ASSLMES A RESPONSIBILITY.
PIIH. had never met nor even seen a mountain-lion, but
he had often heard that its cry sometimes imitates that of
a child so closely as to deceive the most expert of hunters.
He had heard too of its ferocity, its boldness in attacking
human beings, and its terrible strength. In some respects
it is even more to be feared than that monarch of the North
American wiklueruess the grizzly bear, for the former, be-
longing to the cat family, is a famous tree-climber, which
the latter is not.
These thoughts, together with all the stories he had ever
read of mountain-lions, flashed through the lad's mind in
the few miuntes that elapsed between the first and third of
those terrible cries. Before it could utter another the fear-
ful beast would be upon him. and with tense muscles he
braced himself for the coming conflict. He would not have
a chance for more than one shot. If it failed him, all would
be lost.
The sound of the third wailing cry had hardly died
a-waj when, with a gasp half of relief that the suspense
was ended, half of dread, Phil caught a momentary glimpse
of a brown furry object moving through the trees. It
would next appear from behind yonder clump of bushes.
The rifle was slowly lifted, a deliberate sight was taken
alonu its shilling barrel, and then, as the furry object ap-
peared at the precise point where it was expected, the forest
578
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
echoed with its ringing shot. But the bullet had not been
allowed to fulfil its fatal mission. One blessed instant
had beeu granted, even as the trigger -was pressed, in which
to give the barrel a slight upward jerk, and dellect the
leaden messenger from its deadly course.
The rifle fell from Phil's nerveless hand, as weak and
faint he leaned against a friendly tree trunk. As he stood
there, staring with still unbelieving eyes, a little fur-clad
child, uot more than four years old, walking on the tiniest
of snow-shoes, came close to him, smiled trustfully up in his
face, and, holding out a small mittcned hand, said:
" Come, man. Come wit" Nel-te. Mamma say come."
If Phil had been nearly paralyzed with horror to dis-
cover, as bis eye glanced along the levelled rille-barrel, that
he was aiming at a human being, he was almost equally
staggered at hearing the fur-clad atom who called himself
Nel-te, address him in English. How could it be? Who
was he ? How came he there, alone in that vast wilderness
of trackless forest, ice, and snow? Where had the child
spent the night just passed, that had been so filled with
terrors to him? How had he lived through it? Where
was his mother?
All these questions and more he asked the child, as he
sat ou a log, and, drawing the little one to him, gazed at
him as though he were unreal, and might at any moment
vanish as mysteriously as lie had come.
But the child evidently had neither the time nor the in-
clination for explanations. He gravely repelled all the
lad's friendly advances, and turned to .^o away, ES though
confidently exp.-cting him to follow. As Phil hesitated
for a moment he looked back, and in a voice that had a
slight tremble, together with a lower lip that quivered just
a little, he repeated :
" Come. Mamma say come."
And Phil, picking up his rifle, followed after the unique
little figure like one who is da/.ed. A happy smile lighted
the child's face at. this compliance with his wish, and after
that he plodded sturdily onward without turning his head,
as though satisfied that his mission was accomplished. Af-
ter thus going something less than a quaiter of a mile, they
emerged from the forest, and oame to a log cabin standing
on the bank of a small stream.
Though fairly well built, this cabin did not differ in out-
ward appearance from ordinary structures of its kind in
that country, save that its single glass window was hung
with white curtains. These caught Phil's eye at once, but
ere he had time to speculate concerning them his little
guide bad reached the door. Slipping off the small snow-
shoes he pushed it open and entered. Phil followed, but
had not taken a single step into the interior ere he started
back in dismay.
On the floor close beside the threshold lay an Indian — a
tall handsome fellow, but with a terrible gash in one side.
From it his life's blood had evidently drained some time
before, for it needed but a glance to show that he was dead.
From this startling sight the lad's gaze wandered across
the room. It caught the white curtains, a few poor at-
tempts at ornamentation of the walls, an empty hearth, on
which was no spark of lire, and then rested ou a rude bed
in one corner, to which the child had just run with a joy-
ful cry.
< )n the bed lay a woman, and, to Phil's utter amazement,
she was a white woman, who was feebly speaking to him
in English. Her bloodless face, terribly emaciated, was
surrounded by a wealth of dark brown hair, and her great
eyes were fixed on him with a pitiful eagerness.
"Thank God! thank God, sir!" .she said, in a voice so
near a whisper that Phil was obliged to bend his head to
catch the words. "Now that you've come, I can die in
peace, for my Nel-te will be cared for. I prayed, oh. how
I prayed ! But it seemed as if my prayers were to be of no
avail, until at length the answer came in the report of your
gun. Then I sent the child to find you. And oh, sir. I do
thank you for coming. I do thank my Heavenly Father
for sending you. And you will care. for my baby ? Yon
will take him far from here, where he may grow to be a
good and useful man ? You will, won't yon, sir? Promise
me. Promise me you will.''
" But you mustn't die," answered poor Phil, who was so
bewildered by the perplexities of the situation that he
knew not what to say. "I have two companions who will
know what to do for you, and we will stay until you get
stronger. What docs it all mean, anyway? Are you
wounded? Did that Indian attack you ?"
"He was my husband, my Jim," whispered the woman,
again opening her eyes, which had closed wearily after
her recent effort at talking. •' He died for me, and I am
dying for him."
Here she was interrupted by a terrible fit of coughing,
and a gush of blood from some internal hemorrhage.
After a few minutes she continued: "He shot a moose,
and with its last strength it charged on him. When he
did not come home I went in search of him. I found them
lying together. Jim still breathed. Somehow I managed
to bring him home on my back. But he was dead when I
got him here, and the strain had been too great, for me. I
had burst a blood vessel, aud had barely strength to crawl
to the bed. That was two days ago. I should have died
that first night, but fought with death for Nel-te's sake.
Now I can go, aud I am glad, for I am so weary — so weary."
This pitiful story was told in whispers, with many pauses
and many struggles for breath. WThen it was finished the
great pleading eyes again closed, and the woman lay so
still that Phil thought she must be dead. He tried to feel
of her pulse, but started at the touch of her hand, for it
was like ice. The chilL of it seemed to reach his very
heart, aud he shivered in the deadly cold of the room.
"I can at least make a fire," he thought, and he began to
search for matches. There were none, aud finally bethink-
ing himself of the blaze he had left in the woods he set
forth to fetch fire from it. In a few minutes he returned
with a couple of burning brands. Then he brought in
wood, aud, after a little the great fireplace was filled with
leaping flames.
Nel-te came to him aud begged for water. Phil had no-
ticed several times that the child was eating snow, aud
now berated himself for not realizing that the little fellow
was thirsty. He melted snow in a kettle, and the boy
drank eagerly. Then from some hiding-place he produced
a smoked salmon that he began to eat ravenously. After
a little he paused, looked hesitatingly at Phil, and then
shyly. but with inborn hospitality, held out the fish to his
guest, saying : " Y'ou hungry?"
"Indeed I am, little chap, "answered Phil, who was just
remembering how very hungry he was, "and I shall be only
too glad to take a bite with you." So he cut off a piece of
the fish, and as the two ate their strange meal in company
Phil knew that the little stranger had won his heart; for
never had he felt so drawn to any child as to this one.
While they were thus engaged, the woman again un-
closed her eyes, aud made a slight movement. Phil held a
cup of water to her lips, and she drank thirstil3T. It seemed
to give her strength, for she said :
" You have not promised me, lad. But you will — I know
you will; for God has sent you in answer to my prayers.
You will care for my baby, and try to love him, and IICMT
let him forget his mother. You will promise, and I know
I can trust you, for you have a brave face aud honest. You
will promise me?"
" I do promise," said Phil, solemnly," that, if you are taken
from your boy I will care for him to the best of my ability,
aud be to him a brother and —
" That's enough, lad. Now hand him to me. for I canna
see him. His name is Nelson McLeod."
This last came in so faint a whisper that Phil barely
caught, the words; but as he lifted the little one to the
bed the woman seemed to gain new . strength, for she
flung her arms about the child, strained him to her breast,
and kissed him.
Then the wasted arms unclosed. She fell back, a smile
glorified her face, aud the great brown eyes opened for one
parting look at her boy. In another moment, with a sigh
of content, she fell into the sleep that knows no waking :
and Phil, recalling the long-ago story of the missionary.
knew that the sorrows of Ellen McLeod were ended.
[lO BE CONTINUED.]
579
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE AMERICAN TRESTLE BRIDGE AND TUNNEL ENTRANCE.
facilities, though they are small and rather
simple, are in their way as complete as in
' any full-size railroad.
The track is over 80 feet in length, with
a gauge of 2| inches; and in order that he
might get in in these 80 feet all the differ-
ent forms of railway construction Dr. War-
neford has made the track so that it runs
over some of the uneven spots in his yard,
and in this way, in the places where bridges
are required, he has constructed that form
of bridge which would naturally be best
suited to the particular form of ravine or
cavity over which the road is to run. One
of the prettiest of these bridges is a thor-
oughly constructed cautalever bridge, on
the form of the great Forth Bridge be-
tween Scotland and England, which passes
over a little excavation immediately after
the train has come out of a long, thorough-
ly constructed tunnel, the entrance to
which appears ill two of the illustrations.
Another bridge is a perfectly constructed
skew arch, which the train crosses a few
feet after leaving Chicago. Then comes the
A MINIATURE RAILROAD
SYSTEM.
ONE of the most interesting models per-
haps ever made, in a popular way, has
been prepared by an English clergyman,
the Rev. H. L. Warneford, of Windsor, Eng-
land. Dr. Warneford has a small yard in
the rear of his house, surrounded by an or-
dinary brick wall, which may be seen in
each of the illustrations accompanying this
article. Along the rear end of the garden
he has bnilt a railroad from wall to wall,
in that distance overcoming the inconven-
iences of the ground which usually require
the mechanical ability of railroad builders.
The road runs from a little station called
Chicago at one end to a small station at
the other end known as Jericho. It is com-
plete in every detail, and as thoroughly so
as if it were one of the great lines that run
across England. The two stations even
have advertisements pasted over them, as
any ordinary station does; and the terminal
THE STEEL TUBULAR BRIDGE.
model of an American trestle, and after pass-
ing over this the road runs through the tun-
nel, over the cautalever bridge, through a
cutting, and finally over a steel tubular
bridge into Jericho.
Besides all these constructions, the pro-
portions of which can be easily seen by com-
paring them with the ordiuaTy size bricks
of the stone wall, the road is fully equipped
with complete sets of signals, which can he
and are worked with telegraph wires and
posts. There are not only signals for con-
nections and ordinary use, but Dr. Warne-
ford has even constructed a fog-signal ap-
paratus, which is worked by a spring when
the engine passes over it, causing a hammer
to fall on a small blank cartridge ; and this,
ex pi. id ing, is the signal for the train to come
to a stop at a time when, either on account
of fog or similar impenetrable mist, the ordi-
nary signals would be of no use.
As to the train itself, that consists of a lo-
comotive, which is a complete model of an
ordinary English engine. The steam is gen-
erated by spirits, and the engine draws a
580
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
couple of trucks and a passenger-cnr. When
the steam is up, and the train is started, the
reverend gentleman has to run his level
best to get to the next station before the
train, otherwise it would be "missing."
When it does arrive at its destination, the
fact is made known by an electric bell ring-
ing automatically; and on close inspection of
the photograph of the Jericho station the
electric button may be seeu at the end of
the tracks inside the depot. On the line
between the stations there is a signal-box,
with levers to work the signals, as complete
in its way as any signal-tower in existence ;
and, as some one said who visited the line
a short time ago, the only thing that is lack-
ing on the line is the stentorian call of the
conductor, "All tickets ready."
The accompanying illustrations, which
are taken from photographs made especial-
ly for HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, are interest-
ing in many ways. They were taken dur-
ing the last winter, when snow was on the
ground, and wheu experiments were being
tried with a tiny snow-plough ou the front
THE CANTALEVER BRIDGE.
SIGNAL TOWER, AND ENGINE WITH SNOW-PLOUGH.
of the engine to see if the track could be
cleared. One of the illustrations shows the
plough at work in the cutting; and, as any
one may see, the job is not a light one to
clear the track at that spot. In one or two
of the illustrations interesting comparisons
may be made as to the size of the bridges
and the train with some of the small shrubs
which have sprung up near the track ; but
such are the perfect proportions of the model
track, signals, and station that unless some
such object is compared with them or the
size of the bricks in the wall is noted the
photographs might be those of a normal
train taken from a great distance.
The parts of the road representing mason-
ry are not, of course, built of true stones, but
simply of boards painted to represent them.
The bridges, however, are sincere construc-
tions in every part, each " timber" being set
iu place by itself, and the whole construc-
tion made to rely on its own strength, with-
out any false support. The steel tubular
bridge Ur. Waruet'ord had made for him,
and it will bear the weight of a boy. All
the castings for the wheels and machinery of
the engine and cars are perfect in their way.
The readers of the ROUND TABLE will re-
member that last fall we published a photo-
graph of the perfect model of a trolley-car
which not only ran by electricity, just as an
ordinary car docs, but had all the details,
even to advertisements, that the trolley has.
This trolley-car was an extraordinary piece
of work; but whereas the Warneford engine
is not more*thun eight inches long, the trol-
ley was between two and three, feet long.
The care taken in constructing the English
train, engine, and road must have been iu-
tinitely greater and the difficulties consider-
ably increased on account of its smaller size ;
but such work is not impossible for any one
with a mechanical turn of mind.
This whole railway, in fact, is a most in-
teresting and suggestive piece of work, and
illustrates what mechanical ability and in-
genuity can do, and how much amusement
and profit even so busy a man as an Eng-
lish clergyman may find in working ou such
a thing as a hobby.
CHICAGO, AND THE SKEW BRIDGE.
581
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
SOME DONTS FOE SWIMMERS.
r,V WILLIAM HEMMINGWAY.
IT is ju>t as dangerous tn play with water as it is to play
will, tin-. I'roliahU no sport is more dangerous than
swimming, just as none other is nuite so delightful. If you
use proper cam i > exercise is safer than swimming
But what is proper caul ion .' It. is almost impossible tn
Irani how to swim liy reading any amount of printed in-
structions. Imt il is easy to learn how to take care of one's
self in the water. One of the best swimming teachers I
ever knew summed it all np in these words: Don't lie rash.
Don't lie frightened. It seems to me that no advice call he
better than that. I think that one more rule is safe to
follow, Don't " show oil'."
Let us look at what happens to the rash swimmer and
diver. 1'robabh evei\ o if yon has known or heard of
some poor over-confident fellow who has lost his life by
diving overboard without knowing the depth into which
he was plunging. Nothing can be more dangerous. There
is a tine swimming-beach at the upper part of the Harlem
River, near Farmers' Bridge, on the Manhattan Island shore.
There are bath-houses in plenty, and a long stretch of firm
.andy shore. One of the best oarsmen of his year, went
swimming there a few years ago. He had just come to the
end of live months' hard training and racing. During that
long period swimming had been forbidden to men in the
ore \v, because it was feared that they might tire themselves
out at it, and use np strength that should be applied to
rowing. But now tlie restraints of training were oft", and
.1 was having a delightful frolic with his friends. He
was a strong swimmer and a graceful diver. Running
down the beach he splashed out until lie was knee-deep in
the river, and then gathered himself for a dive. He plunged
head first on a sand-bar. His neck was dislocated. He
did not live live minutes.
That young man had been swimming from the same place
last year, lie thought he was familiar with the shore.
Really he had forgotten just- where it was safe to dive. If
he had been cautious enough to ask" his comrades, or even
to wade out a little further and learn the depth for him-
self, lie would not have lost his life.
Do yon think it childish to be cautious ? Put away the
idea. The bravest men are nearly always the most careful.
"Your Majesty knows not what fear is," said a courtier
to King Oscar of Sweden, who had fought in many hand-
to-hand battles with wonderful success.
"The man who does not know what fear is." replied the
King, "is a fool."
And fear is only another name for over-cantiousness.
"No matter how well you think yon know a swim-
ming-place, take nothing for granted. So many changes
take place in a year. Sand bars are formed by the tides.
If you dive from a pier, how can you know without actual-
ly investigating what timber may have been swung loose
by the water's action since last year, and be now lurking
for you beneath the surface' And as for swimming in
strange water, never do it without learning all you can
about the conditions. Henry Guy and I were chumming
for bluelisli in Fire Island Inlet recently. We had tine luck
for a while. Suddenly the blnelish' disappeared. Alter
waiting idly a few minutes I began to yearn for a swim.
The air » as very warm, and the cool, green water was rip-
pling a thousand invitations. Just as I was about to dire
off the stern of our cat-boat the skipper touched my arm
and shook his head.
•• I ton'l !" lie exclaimed.
-Why not .'"
"Sharks."
That was all of the conversation. Before I was half
dieted the skipper lunched my arm and pointed at a long,
dark gray object that loafed along against the tide six or
eight feet below our keel. It w as a shark. Sly hair bristled.
Von see it is advisable to know sometimes just where you
are "at ."
Di\ing is certainly the best way for you to enter the
water always provided that you know all about its depth.
Nothing can be more unhealthfnl than the dawdling habit
of wading out ankle-deep or knee-deep, and waiting to get
your eon ram- np. The hot sun beats down on your head.
Voiu feet and legs are in the cool water whose temperature
is anywhere from ten to twenty-five degrees lower than
that of the air.
Von can't remain long under these conditions without in-
juring yourself. Nature's plan is to have the head cool
and the extremities warm. Go contrary to this, and you
are in trouble. Probably most of you can remember hav-
ing had a headache some time or other from this very
cause. Indeed, physicians will tell yon that many attacks
of cramps in the water are due to the swimmer's foolish
habit of wading in very slowly. Deranged circulation
causes cramps. In places where it is not safe to dive you
can easily stoop over and throw a few handfnls of water on
your head. Then hurry forward and throw yourself in —
fall in. Will other fellows laugh at your precautions?
\\ ell. let them laugh, and pay for it with the twinges of
cramps. I have been swimming twenty years, and I've
never had a cramp, simply because I've followed the rules
laid down here.
Never let yourself be frightened in the water. A boy I
know found himself far outside of the breakers at Cape
May. He swam deep — that is, with his feet far below him
— and found that in spite of his efforts he was making no
headway, or very little. Instead of howling for help, and
using np his strength ill struggles that would drown him
before help could arrive, he put his wits to work. He soon
found that the ott'-shore current was below the surface, and
thai at the very top of the water the flow was toward the
shore. Thereupon he drew up his legs and swam as near
the surface as he could. Even then it was a long swim for
a twelve-year-old boy, but he got the beach under his feet
at last. Another boy I know was dragged far out by a
"sea-puss" at Long Branch — one of those deadly, swift,
sudden currents that pounce on a bather unawares and
carry him away from shore. This boy waved his arm and
shouted for help. When he saw the men on shore running
toward a surf-boat he calmly turned over on his back and
devoted all his energies to floating. He had been carried
nearly a mile before he was rescued. If either one of these
boys had been frightened he probably would have drowned.
PUDDING
STICKS
«J9
: ffjS?£3.4$i
This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Yonne Women, and the E.iitur «ill
be plenswd to answer any question on the bubject so far as possible. Correspondents should
address Editor.
J HEARD of a society the other day, a society which has a
beautiful name. I am sure you will agree with me about
the name when I tell you that it is called "The Cheer and
Comfort, Society." Its object is to send good reading mat-
ter, particularly magazines, papers, and interesting books,
to people too poor to obtain them by purchase, and not
likely to get them from lending libraries, and the lady who
can tell yon all about the society and its work is Jliss Em-
ily Campbell, of Short, Hills, New Jersey.
The sweet words " Cheer" and " Comfort " are repeating
themselves in music in my mind as I write. Perhaps you
would like to know where I am writing this Pudding Stick
letter to you, dear girls. Well, the place is in the country,
in a lovely valley with green hills rising around it on everj
side, and standing like guardian sentinels about the plea-
sant homes w Inch are scattered over the breezy fields and
plains beneath them. The morning is very cool, and the
blue sky is just breaking through the heavy clouds which
awhile ago threatened rain. Wrapped in 'a shawl, think
of it you who are reading this on a day too warm for shawls,
and established in a big easy-chair, with my paper resting
on a book in my lap. 1 am thinking of you* I write these
little letters almost always in this way; they seem more,,
intimate and confidential than if I sat down beside my
desk, and shut my door, and put on a sort of let-me-aloue-
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
if-you-please business air. I fancy tli.it most of the letters
I receive from you are written in this same easy and friend-
ly way, and that you keep your note-paper in little boxes
anil portfolios, and perhaps Minn-times iu a dear old atlas,
which makes a delightful portfolio.
To GO BACK to " Cheer " and " Comfort." There are al-
ways chances iu life to do both, for turn where you will,
there are those who are iu need of help. Not always bod-
ily help. Often those who have every earthly thing they
need — shelter, money, food, clothing, books, all sorts of
opportunities — are iu want of the heavenly things which
" cheer " and " comfort " mean. They are depressed, low in
their spirits, sad, and troubled. They are even cross and
disagreeable because they are unhappy. To such persons
young people, with bright faces aud light hearts, can bring
both the cheer that gives courage and the comfort that
takes away pain. You haven't to do anything in a grand
and heroic fashion either. Simply be yourselves, and let
the gladness that is in you bubble up aud overflow, aud
you will make tired people happier.
T\vo SCHOOL-GIKLS sat behind me in a car the other day,
chatting together in low voices, and laughing immoderate-
ly every few minutes at the happenings of their day. Bless
them, the sweet, gay, merry-hearted creatures! The car
seemed lonesome after they reached their station, aud went
trippiug along the road up the long hill to their home out
of sight from my point of view. Just be yourselves, dears,
and you will make older people happy. I sent a loving
little word of thanks after my school-girls, for they had
been a help to me. If they read the ROUND TABLE, here's
a bit meant for them.
OXE AFTERNOON, passing a church on a city street, I read
this announcement on a bulletin-board at the door, "The
Pleasant Words Society will meet at four o'clock.'' Wasn't
that tine? The " pteasant words " society ! Whatever we
think of, however we feel, we may speak pleasantly, our
words and our tones being iu our own control. The effort
to speak pleasantly will usually cause us to feel pleasant,
aud it is pleasant people — people who please — who get to-
gether and form societies and clubs. Who ever heard of a
Fault-finders Society or a Cross Words Society 1 Fretful
fault-finders have to sit iu corners alone.
ANOTHER SOCIETY of which I know is the T.JI.D. S.,
which, being interpreted, is the Ten Minutes a Day So-
ciety. This is an association of young girls which re-
quires of its members only that they shall devote ten
minutes every day, or sixty minutes every week, to sewing,
or iu some other way working for orphans and the poor.
It sends garments to hospitals aud asylums, boxes to home
aud foreign missions, aud accomplishes a wonderful deal
of good, by simply using ten minutes of each day in a bit
of unselfish work.
/
S£LUg
«
st of Amnte
bject so far
• Photographers, and the E.litor will
»s possible. Correspondents should
This Department ia conducted in the int
be pleased to answer any question on the subjec
address Editor Camera Club Department.
PAPERS FOR BEGINNERS, XO. 3.
GETTING READY TO DEVELOP.
IF there is one place more than another where one needs
to be methodical it is in the dark room. It is lighted
but dimly, and groping about for materials or apparatus
often results in disaster to that most susceptible of all
things, the sensitive plate. One should have his materials
so arranged that he can put his hand on anyone in the
dark.
Besides knowing where the materials are, and always
having them in their place, the materials aud apparatus
used for developing should be placed tin1 vame way each
time when arranging them for developing. Place the hypo-
tray far enough away, and iu such a position, that there
shall be no danger of getting any of the hypo into the
, developer. If the water for rinsing the plates is at the
right hand of the developing-tray, place the hypo-tray at
thr left hand of the water. Then in washing the developer
from the plate before placing it in the hypo it will be clear
of the developer, and if one is unlucky enough to let the
plate slip into the hypo, drops will not spatter into the
developer.
Never, under any circumstances, set a vessel on the flour
which contains any liquid beside water. The dismay which
has fcilloweil an unfortunate step in the dark, when one has
set the hypo-tray on the floor with a well-developed plate
''fixing" iu it, can only be understood and appreciated by
the amateur who has been so rash as to invite such a dis-
aster.
Get the water for washing and rinsing the plates ready
first, and if one has running water this means simply at-
taching the hose to the faucet aud getting the washing box
ready. Next fill the hypo-tray and put it in its place, then
the developing-trays should be placed in front of the lan-
tern, aud the developing solution mixed in the glass gradu-
ate ready for use.
Look at the lantern and be sure that there is enough caudle
or oil to last during the developing. To be left in dark-
ness with a plate at its most critical point of development
is, to say the least, a great annoyance.
See that the dishes are perfectly clean. This should
always be attended to after each development. It not only
saves time, but the possibility of fresh solutions being
spoiled by the decomposing of chemicals left in the trays is
thus avoided.
Having everything in readiness — the bottles of restraiuer
and accelerator where they will be at hand if needed — get
the plates which are to be developed. These should be
placed on a convenient shelf, or stand where they will be
out of the way of liquids, but where they can be easily
reached. If the plates are still iu the holder, of course
they do not need to be covered, as they are already shut
away from the light, but if they have been removed from
the holders and placed in a box, have a cover from a larger
plate bos to turn over the box after it is open. This will
prevent fogging the plates, aud is easier to adjust than the
cover which fits the box.
It is a good plau to provide one's self with light wooden
covers a little larger than the trays. These can be made
from cigar boxes, aud a little white porcelain knob, such as
druggists use on small drawers, screwed on for handles.
The cover for the hypo -tray should have a white baud
painted across it, or marked iu some way by which it may
be easily distinguished from the covers for the developiug-
trays. These covers are very convenient to place over the
trays if one wishes to leave the dark room for a moment.
or to open the door to admit a little fresh air. They can
also be placed over a tray when the plate is first covered
with the developer if the plate is extremely sensitive. A
screw eye can be put iu the end of the cover to hang it up
by when not in use.
Having once decided on the most convenient way for
arranging the materials for developing, stick to it. The
task of finding and using what is needed will soon become
mechanical, and the mistakes which occur from a haphaz-
ard way of arranging the developing outfit will be avoided.
In the next paper for beginners we shall suggest some
home-made appliances for the dark room which have been
designed by skilful amateurs for saving time, space, ami
money. Any of our amateurs who have improved wn\> "I
doing things are requested to send descriptions to the
Camera Club. We have already several ou hand, which
will be published in their appropriate places. When send-
ing a description of home-made apparatus, send a photo-
graph with it if possible.
583
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
JOURNEYING TOWARDS LONDON.
KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS.
I. — UTHER PENDRAGON, THE FATHKR OF ARTHUR.
JACK anil Me ill ir had joined the Order of the Knights ami
Ladies of the Round Table, and had become Sir Jack
and Lady Mollie in consequence. They were proud of it,
too, not so much because of the titles they were thereby
permitted to use, but because they knew that it was a great
thing to be knightly enough to become members of a so-
ciety which had high aims and lofty purposes in view.
They were both sturdy little Americans, and to be known
as NiY Jack and Ludy Mollie did not add at all to the good
opinions they had of themselves, except in so far as these
honorable prefixes to their names showed that they were
members in good standing of a flourishing organization.
Who the original Knights of the Bound Table were and
what they had done they did not know, but they set about
finding out as soon as they received their membership
cards, for, as Jack said, " What's the use of going into a
thing without (hiding out all about it?" And Mollie, as
usual, agreed that that was the thing to do.
So they asked their father about it, and it turned out
that he knew very little more about the Knights of the
nricinal Round Table than they did. He did know that at
the head of the table had sat a certain King of England,
Arthur by name, who was a Knight of great prowess, but
beyond this he was quite ignorant on the subject. He
said, however, that he would look the matter up when he
had time, and let them know whatever he might discover.
And he did so, and whenever he discovered anything which
In- thought would interest the children, he would tell them
about it.
••Arthur's father, according to the legends," said their
father, " was King of England, and his name was Uther Peu-
dragon."
" What a terrible name," said Mollie.
"It was indeed," said the story-teller. "It was meant
to be, for the title Peudragou signified in those days that
he who bore it was the chief leader in war, which is a ter-
rible thing. 1'ther Pendriigcin. the King, married Ingraiue,
who was beautiful and good, and Arthur was their son, but
tor some reason or other it was thought well that the boy
should be brought up in ignorance of who his parents
were, and on the advice of Merlin he was sent away to a
certain lord of Uther's
land, one of the noblest
and most faithful of his
day, who would look care-
fully after the bringing up
of the child, and see to it
that he should become well
fitted in every way for the
position he was some day
to occupy. Merlin had
looked into the future, and
had seen that Arthur would
grow to be a better man if
he were kept away from
his father's court, where in
all probability every one
would have flattered and
spoiled him, and lead him
to believe that he was a
much finer fellow than he
really was. So Arthur was
sent to Sir Ector, who
brought him up as his own
son. and no one hut the
King and Queen and Merlin
really knew that he was a
Prince, and would some day
become King of England."
"I'm glad they don't do
things that way nowadays.
I'd hate to be brought up
by one of the neighbors
without knowing that you
were my papa."
" Must have been worse than going to boarding-school,"
said Mollie.
"Well, however that may be." said the story-teller, " it
was a good thing for Arthur, for he was well brought up,
and he made a good friend in Sir Ector's sou Kaye, with
whom he spent most of his time, and whom he believed to
be his brother, and when Uther died and it became neces-
sary to put some one in his place, he made his claims to the
office of King much greater by having to prove that he was
fitted for it, not so much because of the fact that he was
Uther's sou, which some ill-natured, jealous Princes who
wanted to be King said he was not, but because of his won-
derful prowess, 'which he showed when the time came. It
was but two years after Arthur was born that King Uther
was taken sick, and all the rebellious lords in his kingdom
thought that the time had come for them to rise up against
him, but Merlin went to the King and told him that even
though he was ill it was necessary for him to go out and
fight the enemy, and Uther, sick as he was, went into the
battle carried on a litter and took command of his forces.
Aided by two splendid knights, who were among his closest
friends, Sir Ulfius and Sir Brastias, Uther fought a gv-eat
battle at St. Albans with the forces from the North, in
which he was victorious, and after which he returned to
London. Here within a short while he died, first having
gathered his Barons about him, and at the suggestion of
Merlin proclaimed his son Arthur his successor. Then, as
the chronicles tell, the kingdom was in great danger for a
long time. Years passed, and all the lords who were strong
and possessed of small armies of their own wished to make
themselves King, and doubtless one of them would have
succeeded had it not been for Merlin, who, when Arthur
had become old enough to make his plans possible, went to
the Archbishop of Canterbury and persuaded him to sum-
mon all the lords and gentlemen at arms to appear in Lou-
don on Christmas eve. Now these men all stood in great
fear of the Archbishop, because the Archbishop stood for
the Church, and not one of them dared disobey. So Christ-
mas eve found them, one and all, gathered in London as
Merlin had wished, for Merlin hoped, in the words of the
legend, that, gathered on Christmas eve, the lords of the
kingdom might by some miracle from Heaven be shown
who should become the rightful King of England, in which
hope he was not disappointed, as you will shortly see."
584
INTERSCHOL^STIC
£ ;
•• •»- •• * -
THE DATE OF THE DUAL GAMES Between Andover and
Worcester Academies has been definitely set for next
Saturday, and the arrangements have been put in charge of
Colonel Sain Winslow, who was Captain of the champion
Harvard nine of 1885. These games, which were spoken of
in greater detail in this Department last week, will take
place in Worcester on the same day the Western Massa-
chusetts I.S.A.A. will hold its annual track and field meet-
ing oil Pratt Field, Ainherst. From the interest already
manifest the latter should be the most interesting and profit-
able sports ever held in that section. Monsou Academy has
won the championship for the past three years, but the other
schools of the League have now determined to make a des-
perate effort to change the established order of things. My
opinion is that they will succeed, and that the pennant
will go either to Chicopee or to Springfield. It will be no
walk over in any case, for the Atnhcrst, Westfield, and Hoi-
yoke High-schools have strong men, and will make a good
showing both on the track and iii the field.
THK 100- YARD DASH has always been a hard-fought race,
and this year it will be closer than ever. E. J. Murphy, of
Springfield H.-S., will probably win, however, with Schuto
of Westfield second, and Phillips of Monsou third. The
same men will dispute the places iu the 220. Kennedy of
Spiiugfield H.-S. ought to take the quarter, although he
will-uot, by any means, have an easy victory, for Schute, in
spite of his many previous heats in the dashes, will run
hard. Thayer of Holyoke is a pretty sure winner in the
half-mile. In practice he has covered the distance in 2.07,
and I feel confident that he can do better in public. Christy
of Monson is the best mau for the mile. Last year he ran
iu 4 min. 38 sec. on time, but injured his ankle just previous
to the I.S.A.A. meeting, and then covered the distance iu 4
mill. 5f> sec. Shea of Chicopee H.-S. has covered 19 feet iu
broad jumping, and ought to win that event Saturday.
Scott ofWesttield H.-S. will take the high jump, and ought
Maltia, 1. f. Cadwnlnder, 3J b. Haatie, r. f. Rigliter. 2d b.
Slidell, c. f. Ross, Ut b.
McGibbon, s.s. Kafer, c. (Capt.) Arrott, p.
LAWRENCEV1LLE BASEBALL NINE.
GERMANTOWN ACADEMY BASEBALL NINE.
to clear at a good figure, as he did 5 ft. 7^ in. in-doors last
winter. The pole vault will furnish a hot struggle between
Smith of Springfield H.-S., Bryant of Chicopee H.-S., Austin
of Monson Academy, and Scott. The winner will have to
go 10 feet, and I should not wonder if the best performance
even exceeded that mark.
THE WESTERN MASSACHUSETTS ASSOCIATION, in addition
to a one-mile bicycle race, has a half-mile event for the
wheelmen, and Elmer of Chicopee H.-S. is expected to fiu-
ish first iu both of these. Sullivan of Hol-
yoke H.-S. and Pike of Springfield H.-S. will
get places. In the hurdles, Phillips of Monson
and Baker of Ainherst are about even, and
their race will be as exciting a contest as the
day will afford. They will be closely pushed
by Barry of Chicopee H.-S. and Stiler of West-
field :H.-S., both of whom arc strong runners
and clever at clearing the sticks. In the
weight events the Monson men will try to
maintain the record they established by win-
ning first place, iu both for the past five years.
Austin has put the shot nearly 35 ft., and may
do better, but he will have formidable rivals
iu O'Connor of Holyoke H.-S., Spence of C'hic-
opee H.-S., and Winslow of Ainherst H.-S., all
of whom can do better than 30 ft. But Chisem
will, beyond a doubt, take the hammer event,
with O'Connor second, and Bush of Westlielil
H.-S. third.
THE CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE Pennsylvania In-
ter-academic Baseball League was decided on
Friday, May 24th, when Germautowu Acade-
my defeated the Cheltenham Military Acade-
my nine at Steuton. This is the second con-
secutive time that the Germantowu team ha&
taken the pennant with a clean record of vic-
tories, and this last victory of theirs is all t he-
more creditable because of the strength of the
opposing team. The feature of the players' work
the past season has been the pitching and bat-
585
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
ting of McCarty, the fielding of Captain Sharpe at short-
stop, and the strong batting of the entire nine. All their
victories have been won by heavy hitting at opportune
moments. On Friday especially McCarty distinguished
himself. In addition to making three hits that were fac-
tors in the victory, he struck out fifteen of the Cheltenham
batters. Lamberton, who was in the box for the soldiers,
also pitched a. good game, but lie was so poorly supported
at times that his work did not count for much.
THE PENNSYLVANIA INTERSCHOLASTIC championship hav-
ing been settled, there now remains the New England
championship, the decisive game of which will lie played
iuBostou on Friday, and the Inter-City championship of the
N.Y. and Long Island I. S. B. B. Associations, which will be
decided at Eastern Park on Saturday.
ANOTHER IMPORTANT AND DECISIVE baseball game will
be the Andover-Lawrenceville match at Andover a week
from to-morrow. This will be the, third annual contest be-
tvieen these two big schools, and I am glad to record that
neither niiie just now is burdened with over-confidence.
Audover won the first two matches of the series, by the
scores of 5-4, iu 1893, and 5-2, in 1894. This year, however,
the teams are so nearly matched that it is hardly possible
to forecast the result of next week's game. Of last year's
Andover players only three have returned to school, the
rest of the nine being new players, with whom Captain
Drew has labored bard and conscientiously to develop a
winning team. But with Drew behind the bat, and Greeu-
way or Sedgwick in the box, P. A. lias a batten that it
will be hard to find the equal of on any school baseball
team. The infield, however, is weak. Barton, at first,
plays well, but should cover more territory, and have more
confidence in himself. For a man of his small stature
Harkercovers second in pretty good style, but both lie and
Elliott, at third, are erratic and somewhat unreliable at
critical moments. Edwards lias taken Davis's place at
short for the past week or two, and has proved equal to
Captain Drew's most .sanguine, expectations. Lawreuce-
ville need not count on any base bits through liis territory,
as his fielding is clean and his throwing sure. The out-
field is much stronger than the infield. Dayton at centre,
and Greenway or Sedgwick at left, are sure catchers and
strong throwers. Waddell, at right, is the best man in the
position that P. A. has had for years, covering all his own
territory and part of his neighbors', and throwing with the
precision of a veteran. Several times this year he has
thrown men out at the plate who were running home from
third after a fly caught in deep right field. As for batting,
the Andover players have only fair ability, Green way, Sedg-
wick, Barton, and Drew being the heaviest hitters. The
team work I consider poor, but this will doubtless be greatly
improved before the day of the game.
AT LAWRENCEVII.LE the natural opportunities for prac-
tice and for the perfection of team-work are no greater
than at Arfdover, but the school system is such that fine
ball players are a necessary result of its enforcement.
Every scholar at the Lawrenceville School, unless physi-
cally disabled, must play ball for at least an hour every
day in the spring-time. In the autumn everybody has to
play football. In this manner no man goes without exer-
cise, and the best material at baud is discovered and de-
veloped. When I was at Lawreuceville last week, nine
diamonds were in full operation at one and the same time.
In the fall there are eleven football fields iu nse daily. No
wonder Lawreuceville sends good material to the colleges.
As FOB THE TEAM this year, it is about up to the average
of former seasons. Kafer, who has been catching for three
years, is Captain, and is doing very satisfactory work. His
batting is sometimes erratic, but in a recent game with
I'ennington he lined out a home run with the bases full in
the ninth inning, thus saving the day, as the score then
.-tood 4 to 1 agaiust l.a\\ ivnceville. Arrott, the pitcher,
is doing well for his second year in baseball. He has
not very full control of the ball, but his curves arc >_ i.
and he possesses more than the average speed. In ad-
dition to this, he keeps cool and plays a steadier game
as the innings go by. Ross, Righter, and Cadwalader
cover the bases, and so far this season Ross has main-
tained the highest average, scarcely making an error.
Righter is a poor thrower, but his hatting is very strong.
With a little longer experience Cadwalader will develop
into one of the best men on the team, and if he can get otf
some of his 200 pounds of flesh his running would be vastly
bettered. McGibbon, at short, is a clean fielder and an ac-
curate thrower; iu addition, lie bats well. He and Ed-
wards of Audover will no doubt furnish some grand-stand
plays for the delectation of their followers. The fielders
are only of average ability. As a whole, the nine seems to
fall out of harmony in almost every game, and on se\<;ial
occasions this weakness has almost proved disastrous. But
most of the players are new men this year, and will be bet-
ter seasoned a week from now.
IN SPITE OF THE HEAVY rain -storm of May 18th the
Princeton Intersoholastic Tennis Tournament was held at
Princeton, resulting in the championship remaining at
Lawreuceville. Several of the contestants failed to appeal-
on account of the bad weather, but the playing was never-
theless spirited and exciting. In the finals, lieaman of
Lawrenceville met his schoolmate Richards, who bad won
by default from Kobb, and defeated him only after five,
hard sets, 6-2, 3-G, 9-11, 6-2, and 6-0. By virtue of lira
man's victory the championship silver cup now becomes
the permanent property of Lawrenceville.
SCHOLASTIC TRACK AND FIELD meetings are being held iu
so main ditici.-nt places just at this season that it is diffi-
cult to Keep account of them. On May 25th the New York
State I.S.A.A. met on the Syracuse University Field under
the auspices of the Syracuse High-School and the Cornell
A.t '.. and the Ithaca High-School won by making :!1 points.
Her nearest rivals were Rochester High with 21, and Buf-
falo High with 18-J- points. Seven schools were represented.
At the first spring meet of the Hotchkiss School, Lakeville,
there were some good records made. Dyer won the 100 in 10J
sec., and the 220 in 23 sec. ; Sanford covered the mile in 5 m.
22-5 sec.; Hixon cleared 5 ft. 4J-in. in the high jump: and
Conner covered 20 ft. 10 in. iu the broad .jump. The Hotch-
kiss athletes will no doubt be heard from at the Connecti-
cut I.S.A.A. games on Saturday.
As HAS BEEN THE CASE with a number of Eastern field
days, rain interfered with the success of the California
Academic Athletic League's meeting on May 4th, and tew
of the athletes were able to do good work. Dawson ran
the quarter in one minute flat on a heavy track. McC'on-
ncll cleared 18 ft. 6 in. in the broad jump, and gui a bad
scare from Cooley, a new man, untrained, who came dan-
gerously close to him. Cooley will show up well next?
year, and would, no doubt, have done better if the condi-
tions had been more favorable. The Oakland High-School
and Sail Jose High-School held a fifty-mile bicycle road
race, relay, last week, of which I hope to be able to speak
more in detail as soon as space is available. It was an ex-
citiug event, and is a good thing for Eastern bicycle-riders
to think of, for there are many places in the neighborhood
of New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Hartford, and other
cities where similar races might be arranged.
ALTHOUGH BASEBALL seemed to languish in the early
part of the season, the A.A.L. completed a successful sched-
ule on May 18th, when the Oakland High-School defeated
the Alameda University Academy 9 to 1. The O. H.-S. team
started out strongly, and had the reputation of the '94 nine
clinging to it, '94'» phners having been the strongest ama-
teur team of California that year. Hall at first, Lanyon in
the'box, and McCalie behind the bat, were the steadiest
players this season. Lanyon caught last year, and is cool.
strategic, and quick. He has good speed and good curves,
and safe control of the ball. McCabe is a very calm player,
bats well, but is weak in throwing to bases. The team
work of the. nine was good, and iu several cases won them
games against stronger teams.
586
HAKPEE'S KOUND TABLE
As SOON AS THE REGULAR luterscholastic
League season of baseball, tennis, track ath-
letics, anil cricket closes there will be more
time to devote to other branches of sport.
During the summer mouths tennis, rowing,
swimming, anil sailing will receive their
share of attention in this Department, and
from the looks of things just now there is
every promise that yachting anil small-boat
racing will be more popular this year than
ever before. . Many of the large clubs have
introduced special classes on their racing
programmes. In addition to the Larch-
tii'ini 21-footers and 34-raters, the Sea \van-
haka's Inilf-raters, and the Douglaston ilin-
gies, the Indian Harbor Yacht Club are now
trying to promote a '20-foot racing length,
or one-rater class. The imported boats liiiri-
and Shriinii will form a good nucleus to start
with, and I understand that several nii-inbcix
of the club have promised to build racers
of this class.
PROBABLY THE MOST INTERESTING and
exciting contests in the small-boat class will
be the sharpie races of the Shelter Island
Sharpie Club. This club was organized two
years ago with about twenty members, and
has grown rapidly in size and popularity.
A regular race is sailed every week over a
club course of live miles, and three races
are sailed around Shelter Island during the
season, a distance of twenty -five miles.
n-M' races are always most exciting, for
the bnats are limited to l(i ft. on the water-
line, with no limit to the sail area. Conse-
Iqnently some of them get over-rigged, and
an occasional upset adds zest to the sport.
'In addition to these races the Sharpie Club
molds athleticgames, including, amongother
events, swimming, rowing, weight - throw-
ing, etc., and at the end of the season medals
are awarded to the best all-round athletes.
Last year the sharpie Frolic, owned by S.M.
and G. H. Milliken, won the highest number
of points, with the t.'liip-l'hip, owned by II.
V. Whitney, and the Mary Jane, owned by
A. E. Whitney, tied for second place. In
the athletic events H. V. Whitney took lirst,
with W. B. Cowperthwait second.
THE NEW ENGLAND INTEISSCHOLASTIC
baseball season has thus far proved most
interesting. A number of the games have
ilready required more than nine innings
play to determine the winner, and so far the
Cambridge High and Latin nine has escaped
lefeat. At the present date of writing the
standing of the clubs in the N. E. I. S. B.
League is :
fa
Chibs. Won. Lost. cent.
Cambridge Hi^h and Latin.. 2 o i.t
Hopkins..n 3 1 .750
Boston Latin 1 1 .5011
English High 1 1 .Mm
Koxbnry Latin 1 1 .5011
Somerville High 0 3 .ijini
The Hopkinson players received their
irst defeat on Friday, the 17th, but they
'ilayed a good game, and showed the results
>f Joe Upton's coaching. The batting es-
pecially has improved. Hopkinson and C.H.
IfcL. will have a hot right for the pennant.
Jakin of the English High-school is pitch-
ng up to his old form again, and held Som-
•rville High down to a single hit in their
•ecent game, which E.H.-S. won by the score
>f 14 to 1. But S.H.-S is one of the weakest
teams In the League. The Eoxbury Latin
nine show want of practice, and their only
redeeming virtues just now are the pitching
of Morse and their general batting strength.
But. the New England school teams are all
well provided with good pitchers this sea-
son, so that Morse's proficiency counts i'or
little when it comes to a decisive contest.
Team-work, after all, should be the main-
stay of every nine.
I.v THE tabulated record of the N.Y.I.S.A.A.
£'• '« printed on p. 538 of HARPER'S ROUND
TABLE of May 'Jlxt, a typographical error
shows Hackett's time in the mile walk as
7 min. -If sec. instead of 7 lain. 4l>? see.,
which it should be.
THE GRADUATE.
PHILADELPHIA, PA.
EIIITOR OF Tine RorNT» TAIU.K :
SIB, — I noticed in the tii'st number of HAIU-ER'S
H'M:M> TAHI.K a refercuci- in tin- " titiii.l people" who
object to football. There have been many other re-
marks of this kimi, at varinns times, made in the
Konnd Table. Jf you can grunt me a little space, I
should like to point out the injustice of sneers of this
kind.
In the first place, in order that it may not be said
(as it gem-i ;illy is said when any one lifts up his voice
against the game) that I am ignorant of the subject,
I may say that I am a football player myself in a
small way, and until recently was heaitily in tavor
"I1 the fame. My position is thus rather inconsi-ieiii,
but it is that of many other sincere well-wisbei'8 <*t
the game. The objection to the game that seems to
me most important is its roughness, both necessary
and unnecessary. First as to the latter. It is all very
well to say that if players would behave like gentli-
nicn, this would he done away with. This may be so,
but it is not in the nature of hoys or men, in the midst
of an exciting struggle on the gridiron, to keep calm,
and control their strength ami their temper. In their
excitement they will do things that they are sorry for
afterwards, and I have never seen anything proposed
that would prevent such things.
Then football as played at present is a game in
which there is abundant opportunity for the natural
brute to display himself. It is claimed that the game
teaches one to control his temper; but I think it just
as often gives one an opportunity to vent it on some
one else. The remedy proposed for this — to have sev-
eral umpires — should be repulsive in the extreme to
every true sportsman. A game in which the players
have to be watched lest they commit murder on each
other is simply unfit for a gentleman to play. If that
is to be done, why not call in the police at ouce, as
they did iu the Yale-Princeton game last fall.
The necessary roughness of the game is considered
by some to be an advantage, in that it teaches c rage
and endurance, and develops the physique of the play-
ers. But is not that a sort of "kill or cure " HUM ho. I?
Surely one can develop his body without risking his
life! A man or a boy has no right to risk lite ami
limb in a game simply because if he escapes injury
he will be more healthy than before. I am not exag-
gerating; a broken limb, a strained hack, or some
similar injury, is not such a trifling matter as some
seem to think. To say the least, it means scv.M.-d
weeks taken from our work in life, which is a big
price to pay for one afternoon's tun. The develop-
ment of our strength can be procured in better ways
than that. Our bodies were given to us to be used,
M..I Mi.used.
That the game is a fascinating one I would be the
last to deny, having played it myself. In its present
state, however, I do not see how any one who candidly
anil lairly considers the arguments of the opponents
of the game can hold to the opinion that it is a fit
game for school-boys or collegians, without changes
of the moM radical nature.
In this letter, the length of which I hope you will
pardon, I have said nothing about the other objections
to football urged by many, for most of these do not
concern the actual game, and will probably correct
themselves in time; but I wish to point out that
snmething must be done to rid the game of its objec-
tionable features, and also that it is unjust and dis-
courteous to those who oppose the game from con-
scientious motives to brand them as weaklings ami
cowards. C. S. WOOD, E.T.F.
[Mr. Wood brings out many interesting points In
his letter regarding football, and though most of his
objections to the game refer more to intercollegiate
than to intrvs. hnhistic football, still, to a certain de-
gree, they apply to both. We do not deny that the
game is rough and dangerous; but what was meant
in the phrase to which Mr. Wood refers was not that
people are timid who do not approve of football, but
that those people who say that football is the most
dangerous game there is, that it is cruel, that it should
be stopped by law, that it is worse than the gladia-
torial combats of ancient Koine, are either timid or
not in their right senses. Football is not as rough as
polo; it is not us dangerous as coasting (as coasting
is now understood); it is not as dangerous as cross-
country riding, and the prngiorlion of injuries in both
polo and cross-country riding is far greater than those
in football. The facts of the case are that so much
has been written and so much said implying that the
game is necessarily a villanous game, that many peo-
ple who know nothing about it have grown to talk
about it, and depreciate it because they fancy it con-
tains injuries which it does not contain. These peo-
ple have done a great deal to bring a fine game for
boys into bad odor, and it is to these, and not to those
who understand the game — both its good and its bad
points— that the remark referred to was addressed. —
THE Emiou.]
Highest of all in Leavening Power. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Baking
Powder
PURE
in I ^ •WONDER CABINET (TREE. Missing Link
I >V-fr^V> JI'uizlp, Devil's Bottle, Pocket Camera, Uteat
1 i' T' 3 IWire I'»«le. Spook Photos, Book of Sleiplitof
—*-'•* -K Hand, Total Value tide. Sent free with immeni-e
/» catalogue of 1000 Bargaiusfor Hie. for p>slu;e.
-^INGERSOLL 4 BRO., 65 Cortlan.lt Street H. Y,
H
' C thoroughly revised,
0 classified, and in-
dexed, will be sent by mail to any ad-
dress on receipt p II T II I f| O 1 1
of ten cents. LA I AL.UtlU
E
587
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
MAP OF BROOKLYN
Asphalt, Mocadamrzed and
Granite paved streets.
,,^. -
Copyriglit, 1895, by Harper & Brothers.
588
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
BICYCLING
This Department is con.luctetl in tlie interest of Bicyclers, and the
Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the' subject. Our
maps and tours tontiiin much valuable data kindly supplied from the
official maps and road-books of the League of American Wheelm.-n
R uni/ing the value of the work bi>ins done by the L. A \V the
Editor will be pleased to furnish subscribers with 'membership blanks
and information so far as p«.^l,le.
THIS WEEK'S MAP explains itself. It is a
unique chart of the city of Brooklyn,
showing by black lines the asphalted or
macadamized streets withiu the city limits.
and by corduroy lines those main avenues
which, though paved with granite pave-
ment, are fair riding, aud which make the
best exits from the city.
IN THE FIRST PLACE, it should be men-
tioned that on Sundays and holidays the
Kings County Elevated Railroad of Brook-
lyn has a car, or throws the smoking-car
open, for the use of bicyclists, who, carrying
their wheels up the steps to the station,
may put them on the train, and ride from
the Bridge or Fulton Ferry out on Liberty
Avenue to the city limits, from wheuce it
is good riding out into Long Island. On
other days bicycles cannot be carried on the
elevated trains from Fulton Ferry after 3
I-..M., nor from East New York before 10 A.M.
IF THK BICYCLIST INTENDS to ride through
the city from New York, he should take the
ferry at Grand Street, and follow iu the cor-
dnroy roads, and, leaving Broadway, get into
Bedford Avenue. Bedford Avenue carries
him on asphalt pavement to the Boulevard,
and turning left into this, he rides until he
strikes granite pavement at East New York
Avenue. Turning again to the left into
East New York Avenue, he continues until
he reaches the fork, and then keeps to the
right into Liberty Avenue, riding out Lib-
erty Avenue, and so out of the city. An-
other course from Grand Street is by ferry
to Broadway, Williamsburg, which is short-
er but perhaps not so good riding, thence
out Broadway direct to Wall Street, turn
left into this and right into Busliwick
Avenue to Jamaica Avenue, which is a turn
to the left, and is a continuation of East
New York Avenue, aud soon to the left again
into Highland Boulevard, which skirts along
the cemetery, Highland Park, aud the Ridge-
wood Reservoir. Th is is somewhat hilly, but
commands a beautiful view of the city and
of Jamaica Bay and the ocean, and is the
most picturesque way of getting out of
Brooklyn. Continuing on the Highland
Boulevard, and running down the hill on
Barbey Street, which is very steep, he conies
again into Jamaica Avenue, and may keep
on this, which is not very good riding, but
nevertheless carries him out of Brooklyn
towards Jamaica. The most direct route
out of the city is, of course, on Jamaica Ave-
nue. The Highland Avenue detour is hilly,
and aftords an opportunity for the rider to
get a good view of the city.
NnTR. — Map of New York city asphalted streets in
NIL -Mill. Mu|i of route from New York to Tarrytowu
in NIL sin. New York to Stamford, Connecticut, in
No. 811. New York to St.iten Island in No. 812. New
Jersey, from Hobokeu to Fine Brook in No. 813.
EVERYTHING. CONSIDERED, HOWEVER, for
any one who is down -town in New York
city, or « ho lives in the central part of
Brooklyn proper, decidedly the best method
is to take the Kings County Elevated as de-
scribed aliove^ and, on the whole, this is
the better plan also for any one going from
New Y'ork, for the only other route from
Thirty-fourth Street down is by the Thirty-
fourth Street ferry, thence to Manhattan
Avenue, after going two blocks from the
ferry-house, turning right and crossing New-
town Creek. Thence turn left into Driggs
Avenue, and run a block and a half to Eweu
Street, and from there on into Broadway,
and so as described. There is no way in
which a Brooklynite can ride out into Long
Island without going over souie granite
pavement, since the only asphalted or mac-
adamized road is the Boulevard, running
from the circle at the eutrauce of Prospect
Park to East New York Avenue. After going
beyond the city limits on Liberty Avenue
the road is better, but this will be described
in the Long Island maps which are to be
published in this Department.
THEKE AKE,- HOWEVER, in the city of
Brooklyn many pleasant rides for an after-
noon which are almost entirely on asphalted
or macadamized roads. For example, using
the map, any rider from Brooklyn Heights,
or a New-Yorker crossing the Bridge or Ful-
ton Ferry, may easily get to the circle at
Prospect Park by keeping on asphalted
roads to the south aud west of Fulton Ave-
nue. For example, on leaving Fulton Ferry,
the rider should make for Hicks Street by
the shortest route, turning thence left, keep-
ing to asphalt pavement, until he reaches
(Continued on page 591.)
FALSE ECONOMY
is practised by people who buy inferior articles of
fond. The Gail Bordeu Bade Brand Condensed Milk
is the best infant food. Infant Health it? the title of a
valuable pamphlet for mothers. Sent free by New
York Condensed Milk Co., New York.— [Adv.]
MONARCH
King of all Bicycles.
•1 KAlilL-MARK.
Five Styles. Weights, 18 to 25 Pounds.
Prices, $85 and $100.
MONARCH CYCLE CO.
Factory and Main Office, Lake and Haleted Sts. , Chicago.
Eastern Branch : 79 Reade St. & 97 Chambers St. , N^Y.
The C. F. GUVON Co., Ltd., Managers.
589
Children's Wear
A., C. & CO. will offer fhe Balance
of their
CHILDREN'S IMPORTED
WOOL,
GINGHAM, LAWN,
AND BATISTE DRESSES
At Greatly Reduced Prices
JdtooAvaii c\j
NEW YORK.
The price has nothing to do
with the
FIT
For ALL of Dr. Warner's Cor-
sets are fitted to living models.
Prices from one to six dollars each.
Stamps,
UAH/ A II lc- 2c--'2c- 4c.,Sc. 8c.,10c. 15c., 25C.
lUl/UUII :)r>c • •'" "niised; 100 fine varieties
1 stamps, 12c. ; 1000 mixed U. S., 25c. ;
5 vnr. obsolete Postage Due, lOc. ; $20 Confederate
Bill, lOc. ; 5 foreign coin*, 15c. : 5 different U. S.
Cuppers, 15C, F. J. STAKTON, Norwich, N. IT.
CTAIW1DC I BOO fine mixed Victoria. Cape of C.
OlHIVIrO •' H., India, Japan, etc., with fine Stamp
All.iim, only JOc. New Bo-p. Price - list free.
.-lueu.'s it.uiteJ at f>«$ commission. STANDARD
STAMP CO.. 4 Nicholson Place, St. Louis, Mo. Old
U. S. and Confederate Stamps bought.
100 all dif. Venezuela, Costa Rica, etc., only
|Tfl| lOc.; 200 :.ll tlif.Hnyli, Hawaii, etc., only 50c.
Ag'tn wanted ai 50 per ct com. List FREE!
C.A.Stegiii«nii,'2Ti"2EadsAv.,St.Louis,iIo.
var., all dif., 5c.; 12 var. Heligoland,
15c.; 6 var. Itnly, 1S5S to!S62, 5c.; 3 var.
Hanover, 5c.; 3Svar. ( ', Aim-ncim, r»l)c. A^euis wanted.
F. \\. Ml],l,l,i;. 004 Olive St., St. Louis, Mo.
BOYS&filRLS
DU I W UlllLw
ARE MADE
byMffldinetlw
U postal card to BOORMA.N & PARKER, 17:!. 5th AVE., Chicago.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
IRouuD liable Chapters.
No. 71-' —The r.n-y life Chapter, of Readington,
N..T. Ivhvin Itusve.l opie. Readington.
No. '!:).— The Iliirry Harper Chapter, of New-
toivn. I'.pim officers are Agnes E. Platt, Samuel
1: Bi iwn, Carrie Jonas, Frank Andrews, John O.
: Malje] E. Morris. Xewiown.
N.I. 711 The Active Athletic clul.. "ft'tica, N.Y.
Albert II (lain •I.1ii4 r.leeeker Street.
N.i. 715. — The Allen Chapter, of Alleutown, Pa.
i I i lulu T. lieno, Allentown.
10.— The George Washington Chapter, of
Troy, N. Y. George P. Paul, 834 River Street.
No. 717.— The Knights Outing Chapter, of Daven-
liorr, Iowa. Ned C. Crossett, 30'j Mississippi Ave-
iiue.
No. 7IH— The General (I O. Howard Chapter, of
Philadelphia, Pa. Members art' Marcella, Hanley,
and Norman Dale, Bella Moorehead, Mary Moore,
'..•"i:,'.- oliphant, Fl'ank (Garrison, Amy Hamilton,
.Ii.i.n sti-liz I 'ha pi ei address, Charles C. Oliphant,
Girard I 'ollege, Philadelphia.
No. 719.— The Basle Social Club, of New York
city. Max Epstein, Paul Gumsberg; Abe Sandier,
10 Pitt Street.
A Mixed Mickron's "S A."
Here is something quite nm-el. Each word or
syllable in this "S A" is n letter of the Greek, Ger-
man, or English alphabet, or the numerals — English
pronunciation— IVoin 1 to in. It u'lates a very excit-
ing udventtl t a family at the sea-sln.re. When a
letter i- i- n in p.in-inh.-i- it is plural, thus: tc) —
H-i/.'. anil ^i) — peas. ( 'an vim read it '!
"<>!''; 1, 1 is " n yr 4 a v a|> Kt, Lr, Cc, Fe, Ln, T)j,
.T\. [\. Pt, n Mind n, n MI n I'l judo o1 d 1) !"
"G !,u r 2 re. Q 2 p 4 a f n ,, 11 d (i ! "
" U uv 1 U p o\) I PI w, u u'l d(c)— o !" . . .
Kt, I..-, L'C, Fe, Ln, T> .Ix, Ix, Pt, n Mnul CUT!
- ',l|b, I ,-a -! -! -r'.- t -.
"O, 0 !" J I. "I u u'l b in' in! O.K.! I C, I'l 04
ru: lll'l a (p) u !"
"let!" j Kt !!. "I c (pi!" '-I c vl!'1 "I cat i-l!"
"1 i- a fr '."
"O, u ! I'l b nit, I c,yl u
"Xlnt !" ; Kt a.
"I .1 114 10 (i), vl, tl, t, n (p)!" jj I.
.
"T, u ume! Ion fl — c !"
i ; p '. I'l a{q) u, u n'l b n jl — c !"
"I'l p u, u »1 t)P'-" 3 I. "U fi P,Jx,b 4 n r b 10
ei> !"
Yl .I\ (p) I <;/! line. 2 lev 8 Mnul s(a)—
" U TT d, i d, i d, u IT d, u 77- d, u IT d, i d, i d, u TT d,
i'd(c)'!" UPTON B. SINOLAIU, Jr.
Stamps and the School Fund.
ral members have kindly offered to sell s.inie
stamps in aid of the School Fund, and the Table
thanks them- The Dorchester Exchange, W. ,1.
Paul Sweeney, comer iiijjh and Highland streets,
iMr. -Sestet-. Mass., has good facilities, and so we
' that others co-operate with it. Its offers
are two: 1, It will Rive to the Fund the ten per
cent, commission on all stamps sold to members
during July and up to August 15th, and S, It will
i the Fund the entire proceeds of the sale of
all stamps contributed by members to be sold for
Said purp.ise.
Exchange rules are easily complied with,
and may be had on application.-enclosing self ad-
' and two-cent stamped envelope. .Mem-
l>er< who may want to purchase, stamps to aid the
Fund, and members who may be willing to COM-
tribute a tew stamps t.i lie sold for the Fund, are
• -.ml addresses and stamps to us as cat-h-
as p.issjlilt- . i -, nit rl hill e.t stamps should be neatly
mounted, and the price plainly marked in ink
under each Send not later than .lime '.'.MIi t.i
IlAUl'Eli's l;.n MI TAIH.K, New York, and put in the
lower left-hand e.irner ot the envelope the words.
"For Stamp Department." The Table warmly
thanks Sir Knights Lantie V. Blum and Claude T.
Reno for their offers in this direction, and begs
them to help under this arrangement Let's have
a big list nf names ot possible IHIMTS and as many
lUtions as possible. All who help in this
way shall have their names on the Fund Honor
Roll, to be published and preserved in the Good
Will Building.
"The Wheelman's Hecca."
Springfield is a flourishing city' of 50,000 inhabi-
tants, and is situated on the left bank of the Con-
necticut Hiver a few miles above the Connecticut
State line. It was first settled by a brave trader,
William Pynchon.and became a city in 1852. The
largest United States arsenal is situated here and
gives employment to many men.
The river is spanned by four bridges, and at one
point is 1136 feet wide. The last battle of Shays's
Rebellion was fought here, and the spot is marked
by a monument. Springfield takes great pride in
her schools, which are among the finest in Massa-
chusetts. In a few months electric cars will be
running to the "Paper City" — Holyoke, which is
nearly as large a city as Springfield. Forest Park
is the summer breathing-place of the city. It con-
tains picnic grounds, tine drives, duck, lotus, and
lily ponds, drinking-fountaius, a "zoo" of small
size, and many pavilions.
Paper, bicycles, railroad passenger cars, buttons,
skates, and pistols are largely manufactured here.
The Public Library contains about 90,000 volumes.
Hampden Park has the best bicycle track in the
United States, and Springfield is called the " Wheel-
man's Mecca." The famous " Yale-Harvard " foot-
ball games are also played on Hampden Pa.rk.
ALBERT W. ATWATER.
A Glimpse of " The Glorious."
Most people who live in the Eastern States con-
sider California a great distance off, and so it is ;
yet it takes only five days to cross the continent,
by rail, and bring one from January snows to sun-
shine an.l flowers. Petaluma is a thriving'town of
three thousand, situated in Sonoma County, and
connected with San Francisco by tide-water. The
chief occupations of'the people in the surrounding
country are dairying, fruit-raising, and wine-mak-
ing. The varieties of the Sonoma fruits most raised
are cherries, apricots, peaches, pears, plums, ap-
ples, figs, olives, and grapes. There are many large
dairies ami creameries owned by the Swiss people,
who find the surrounding country a good substi-
tute for their native land. Before California came
into the possession of the United States the swar-
thy Mexican and his fiery mustang roamed through
the tall grass, tending enormous herds of cattle,
sometimes slaughtering several hundred for their
hides, and leaving the carcasses to the buzzards.
EAST OAKLASD. SAMUEL T. BUSH, R. T. K.
A Collection of Newspapers.
We advised a member to write to the American
Minister at Athens for a copy of a newspaper
printed in modern Greek. Elsa Roeder kindly
amends by suggesting the Atlantis, printed in New
York, It is wholly in Greek, and no address other
thiin New York city is necessary. Thanks, dear
Lady L'lsa, This collecting of present-day news-
papers as a means of broadening and increasing
one's knowledge of the world is most useful and
interesting. It is also inexpensive. and as an edu-
cator equals or exceeds the collecting of stamps.
Hid you ever see a present-day newspaper that is
published in Brussels or Rome, or even Paris or
London? The American Consuls can give you the
and the amounts to remit for single copies.
in-, if yon send stamps for postage, the Consuls
would in most cases forward the newspai .,
think. You can get a list of Consuls from the
State Department, Washington, or can find them
in the Congressional Directory, which your Mem-
her of Congress will gladly send you upon request.
Consuls are always desirous of serving the in-
terests of fellow-Americans in such matters. The
spread of English-speaking humanity has led to the
founding of English newspapers in many foreign
cities. In the Orient there are newspapers printed
In English, and they are full of what to us are
quaint items. Such papers are to be found in Con-
stantinople, Cairo, Calcutta, Yokohama, Honolulu,
and even in Teheran and Jerusalem. The Indian
Mail and Japan 3Iail are interesting newspapers,
and you would read the South Australian Chronicle,
590
published in Adelaide, anil the Tasmaniaii Mail,
published in Hobart, with a great deal of curiosity.
Then your collection ought to include such famous
journals as the Gazette, of Cologne, Germany, print-
ed in German, of course ; the Gazette, of St. Peters-
burg, and the Novoe Vremya, of Moscow, printed in
modern Russian ; the Petit Journal, of Paris, and
IniliiHhdence Edge, of Brussels, in French; the
\«-< i"nit/(, of Madrid, and the Journal, of Rio de
Janeiro, in Spanish ; and papers from Constanti-
nople, in Turkish, and from Tokyo, in Japanese.
You should also include the Scotsman, of Edin-
burgh, Scotland, in your collection, and you might
learn much that you do not know from a careful
reading of newspapers published in North and
South American cities. Did you ever see a Caracas
newspaper? The study is a fascinating one, and
as surely broadens and liberalizes as does know-
ledge on other studies, collegiate not excepted.
Out-door Entertainments.
Once every year there is held at Good Will Farm
a Summer Celebration, which a great many of the
Farm's friends attend. There are picnics, feast-
ing, and, of course, some speeches. This summer
Mr. Kirk Munroe is, we believe, to be a guest at
the Farm, and will, of course, make a speech.
These Farm outings are held in July. Now, why
may not the Table, during that month, or during
the August vacation, hold as many outings as pos-
sible, the proceeds to go, little, whole, or in part, to
the Round Table Industrial School Fund? The
trouble is very slight, the fun great, and the satis-
faction not to be measured. We urge this subject
upon the attention of all Chapters, and upon all
members of the Order.
Do you belong to a Sunday-school class? Ask it
about undertaking it. If you are just the least
bit interested, write us for particulars, with full
and easily planned programme. We will give them
promptly. You can carry out the details. All
that is needed is a small company of half a dozen
persons, old or young.
This school is for some boys who need a school-
house— and have none. The Table is 'earning the
Fund. Won't you help?
* * *
A Close View of the Shah.
I was in Paris during the great exhibition of
1889. While I was there the Shah of Persia came
to France to see the World's Fair. I was at an out-
door show one day, which the Shah attended, and
I happened to be very close to his box and had a
good view of him and all his suite. He was a very
dark man of Jewish type. He was attired in a
long black cloak of soft cashmere which came to
his knees. It was devoid of any ornament except
heavy black silk frogs which fastened it. He wore
a tall brimless Astrakhan hat, with a single precious
stone on the front. It looked like a moonstone and
was quite large. He wore a beautiful, curved
sword, the only elaborate ornament that he had
on. It was a magnificent weapon, containing
many gems set in the hilt and scabbard. He also
had on black boots of soft leather reaching to the
knee. His staff had a great many more ornaments
than be had, but were all attired in the same black
coats and fur caps.
JACK RANDALL CRAWFORD.
* * *
The Gum on Stamps.
The gum on the back of the postage-stamps of
the United States is made from alcohol one p;i,t,
acetic acid one part, dextrine two parts, and wa-
ter five parts. A. S. H
PBABf.DV. MASS.
Answers to Kinks.
No. 83.
<: or !•:
E ve N
R in G
M il L
A re A
N oo N
Y ar D
No. s". — A kiss.
No. 84.
B
ARE
BREAK
EAT
K
No. 86.— Holmes.
HARPER'S BOUND TAJ3LE
( Continued from page 589.)
Schermerhorn Street, thence direct to Flat-
bnsh Avenue, niul so on to the circle at the
entrance to the Park. Running through
the Park on any of the roads, he should
leave it ou the south at Franklin Avenue
liy the parade-ground, thence turning to the
right on Franklin Avenue, keeping on until
he reaches the Ocean Parkway, which is
now the famous Im'yele mute to Manhattan
Beach. This in itself is a pleasant ride.
ANOTHER AND QUITE AS ATTRACTIVE a
route in this way is to continue on the
Ori-au Parkway until reaching Parkville,
thence turn to the right into the Old Bath
K'>ad, which is nearly all macadamized at
this writing, and will be entirely so within
the next month or two. The rider may con-
tinue on this to Bath Beach, and then, keep-
ing to the right and running westward on
Cropsey Avenue until he reaches Seventh
Avenue, he may turn to the right into this,
and either run down to Fort Hamilton near
the Government lands, and thence straight
on down to Second Avenue and into Bay
Ridge, or he may keep straight on Seventh
Avenue-, passing Fort Hamilton anil running
up to Sixtieth Street, and so back, turning
to the right into Old Bath Road, and home
through Parkville on the Old Bath Road,
Ocean Parkway, and Prospect 1'ark. Still
; I her trip is to run southward and east-
ward after reaching Bath Beach on the Old
Batli Rnnd, to Bensonhnrst and 1'nionville.
In fact, the reader has but to refer to the
map of Brooklyn 'to pick out his own route
011 any of the black marked roads, which
are in this district macadamized.
AN UNPLEASANT MISTAKE.
IT is well always for boys to learn how
to spell, as the experience of a little lad in
England recently proved. Retried to write
averse to his teacher, and in using the weird
"bonny "to describe her face he wrote,
"and oh your Ix/iii/ face."
The teacher did not like having her face
referred to as bony, and the poor little fel-
low was kept in for an hour after the rest
of the boys had gone home.
WALTER BAKER & GO,
The Largest Manufacturers of
PURE, HIGH GRADE
COCOAS and CHOCOLATES
On this Continent, have received
HIGHEST AWARDS
from the great
Industrial and Food
EXPOSITIONS
IN EUROPE AND AMERICA.
Caution: ^a^TmiuaSS
of the labels and wrappers on our
i:m>il -, consuintrB should make -un.1
thut our plnce of manufacture,
'namely, Dorchester, 3Zas».(
is printed on each package.
SOLD BY GROCERS EVERYWHERE.
WALTER BAKER & CO., DORCHESTER, MASS.
IVORY SOAP
PURE
At all grocery stores east of the Rocky Mountains two sizes of Ivory Soap
are sold ; one that costs five cents a cake, and a larger size. The larger cake is the
more convenient and economical for laundry and general household use. If your
Grocer is out of it, insist on his getting it for you.
THE PROCTER & GAMBLE Co CIN-TI.
PMIRES'
Rootbeer contains enough sarsa-
parilla alone to give it the highest
' place as a promoter of good health.
To this,add the most delicious herbs,
roots.barks and berries and you have
the reason why millions of people
drink and grow healthful ou Hires'^
Rootbeer
A 25c. package makes 5 gallons
CHAE.E. HIRES CO..PHILA.,*
OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT ofthe«™rd
CILLOTT'S PENS at the CHICAGO EXPOSITION.
AWA1ID: " For excellence of steel used in their
manufacture, it beiny tine groined and elastic ; super-
ior workmanship, especially shown by the careful
grinding which leaves the pens free from defects. The
tempering: is excellent and the action of the finished
pens perfect." (Signed) FRANZ VOGT,
(H. I. KIMBALL. IndividualJudge,
Approved :-( Prex't Departmental Committee.
(JOHN BOYD THACHEK,
Chairman Exec. Com. oil Awards.
BIRD!!' EGGS
CAR-D PMNTgggEg
hour. YOU can make money wiih it. A font of
prett? type, also Indelible Ink, Tjpe Holder Pmda
and Tmtera. Best Linen Marker; worth «1 IN).
Sample rotiltd FREE TOT life, stamj.s forpoaUieoa
outfit and large catalogue of 1000 Bargains.
R.U.lDgeraoIl& Bro. t;.. Cnrtlnndt St. A.T. Cltf
and Naturalists' Sir ;
Egg J)ril], Blowpipe, and
Hook, nickel - plated, in
pocket, case, only 35 els,
Illustrated catalogue for 2-cent stamp.
CHAS. K. REED, 262 Main Street, Worcester, Mass.
WANTED. 100,000 BOYS,
to sell the EUICEKA MARKING TAG fur
mnrkinjr liats, etc., now and in Summer vacation.
Sells ai siL'lit. Send 10 cents in coin for samples. Ad-
dress Eureka Marking Tag Co., Cedar Falls, Iowa.
CEND for Catalogue of
^J the Musical liistru-
meitt you think of buying.
Violins repaired l»v the
Cremona System, r. STOI:Y,
26 Central St.. liostnn. M;i>s.
Dialogues, Speakers, for School,
rlub anrt Parlor. Catalogue free.
T. S. DEN ISDN, I'ub.ClScago.llL
PLAYS
TWO NEW BOOKS
FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
A Tale of the Sea
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG. By W.
J. HENDERSON. Illustrated. Post Svo,
Cloth, Ornamental, $i 25.
Mr. Henderson has combined his knowledge
of the sea with his experience of several years
as an officer in the Naval Reserve, and thus lias
made a story of the New Navy. The story
follows the experiences of four American
boys during the Brazilian revolution, two of
them being on the American cruiser Detroit, a
third having enlisted in the Brazilian navy on the
battle-ship Atjuniaban, and the fourth being a
soldier on the side of the Brazilian government.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR:
SEA YARNS FOR BOYS. Spun by an
Old Salt. Illustrated. Post Svo, Cloth,
Ornamental, $i 25.
Poems by
Mrs. Sangster
LITTLE KNIGHTS AND LADIES.
Verses for Young People. By MARGA-
RET E. SANGSTER. Illustrated. i6mo.
Cloth, Ornamental, Uncut Edges and
Gilt Top, $i 25.
Mr-. Sangster has a charming way, quite her
own, of writing verse to please the young, and
many of the lines in this volume will be com-
mitted to memory and carried into the riper
years of the " Little Knights and Ladies."
£)- THE SAME AUTHOR:
ON THE ROAD HOME. Poems. Illus-
trated. i6mo, Cloth, $i 25.
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York
The aboi'e works an- for sale by all bmksdlers. or -;•:/'/ fv mailed by tin publish
prepaid, vn receipt of the /
591
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
BY THE SEA.
"TiU'si, rays. Tommy," said Mrs. Jndkins to her little
boy,"meailS Ihat tin- sun is dialing the water ui> to tlic
sky I'cir rain."
'••And then," replied Tommy, "are we soon going to Have
a salt-uatcr -,lio«er ("
AN EXPLANATION.
1 KNOW why UK- elephant l>y a thick skiu
And a tonnh «'»<' '» ever begirt:
It i> so when he's struck liy tin- trainers crowbar,
II,- can laugh in his trunk all unhurt.
A GREAT FEAT.
"MAMMA," sobbed Bessie, "make Willie stop smellin'
my roses. He's took all the perfloomery out of one of cm
already ." »
A REPLY.
JI.MMIKHIIV'S small brothi-rs had both got out of bed on
tin- urong sid.'. as the saying goes, and their differences
bad been frequent.
-What arc those babies fighting about?' finally asked
Jiniinic'boy's niainma.
••About all
the- time." said
Jimmieboy.
THE WHALE'S SPOUT.
"Mn.T<>Ml'Kixs,"said Willie Smith to his teacher the
•other day, " wlicn tin- whale spouts does he do it to bale
himself out t" _
I'M very fond of buckwheat cakes,
I'm very fond of pumpkin-pie,
I love the cookies mommy makes,
I love upon the grass to lie.
I dote upon a lot of things.
Like toys and apples, curtain-rings,
lint like most boys
I think that noise
Is just the best thing known to man,
And that is why an old tin pan.
And battered spoou,
This afternoon,
Have kept me busy as a bee;
Lang! bang! Boom! boom! Hurrah for ine,
I don't need toys
When I have noise.
A STAMP-ALBUM GEOGRAPHER.
NOBODY can deny that postage- stamp collecting is a
great help in teaching boys geography. Jack showed thi.s
at school when his teacher asked him where Nicaragua \\ as,
and what it produced chiefly.
"It's on page ninety-right, "said Jack, "and it produces
more sets o' stamps than an v other country of its size in the
•world."
A BETTER ONE.
"MY dad-
dy's got a little
\\atch on his
bicycle that
shows how far
he goes. Ev-
ery time he
J;IM-X a mile this
tiling marks a
mile," said
Tommie.
" My pa has
a better one
than that," re-
torted Bobbie.
'• Every time
he goes a mile
hi.s registers
two miles."
A PUZZLER.
"WHAT I can't understand about the sun's light, "said
"\Vallie, when lie first heard how many millions of miles
away from the earth the sun is, " is how it manages to net
Lere so early in the morning without travelling all night."
A BAD RULE.
" WHAT has
hecnme of
your club, Har-
ry .'"
"Oh, it's bro-
ken 11 [i," s.-lid
Harry. " We
"made a rule
that no boy
.could be Presi-
dent twice, and
after we'd been
President once
we couldn't go
on with it."
SAM LEE AND THE FLYING-TOP— A CELESTIAL TALE.
592
HARPERS
u,
ROUND TABLE
Copyrigbt, 1995, by HIBFIR i BROTHIBS. All Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLV.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 815.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JUNE 11, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPV.
TWO DOLLARS A TKAlt.
SAVED BY A CARCASS.
A WHALEMAN'S Y A R X.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
•• TT AVSOME," said Farmer Joe, having stretched him- Handsome blew a whirling clond of smoke that went
I I self mi the shady side of the forecastle-deck and set swiftly out to leeward under the swelling foot of the t'mv-
his pipe going, ''it 'pears t° me that it's about time we staysail. He watched it in a meditative manner until it
heard what happened to you after you got back to your disappeared, and then said:
own ship.'' " I was pretty glad to get back to my own ship, thfl
"You mean on my whaling voyages, I suppose," said Ellin /;/m/ir, bcransr. in spite of the fact that they treated
Handsome. us very well aboard the Tiro finikin*, you see I had a pretty
" That's a right peert guess," responded Farmer Joe. g 1 lay on the Ellen, and I didn't want to lose it. Of
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
coiir-e iiol...d\ ever get* rich by going to sea. but a fellow
like* to Miek t'asi to all In- gets. Well, we didn't stay verj
[ong ill the bay in eompan\ with the Tiru I 'mmiiin. We got
tn sea again, ami laiil our course I'or a lnl of eriiising-
gr.,imd away N> (lie southward. «li.' re our Captain said lie.
believed the whaling was g 1. The voyage down there
was as stupid as a Sunday-afternoon sermon in hot \\ ra-
ther, and for the matter of that so was the cruising for two
da\s, I.eranse we didn't raise a single spoilt. On the third
day. however, we were gladdened liy the welcome cry of
'There she blows!' There, were half a dozen whales in
sight, and the old man had great hopes of getting at least
two of them, lint that was not to lie our luck that day.
The liist mate got fast to oue big fellow, and killed him,
1) ut the rest of us returned to the ship empty-handed.
•• Now I haven't told yon anything about what's done
with a whale after you get him; lint as this story depends
mi that, I'll have to explain. The first joli is to get the
whale alongside the ship."
" Why not sail the ship alongside the whale?" asked one
of the listeners.
"That, ain't wholly practicable," answered Handsome,
'• lieeanse you might run into him and sink him. The ship
doe* sail as close as she dares, lint the boats must do their
share. Two boats take the ends of a light line, with a
\\eight slung on the bight so as to sink it, and they pass
this under the whale's tail and around his 'small,' as the
slimmest part of him is called. By means of this line, the
ends being passeil aboard the ship, a chain is run in a slip-
noose around the ' small,' and Mr. Whale is hauled along-
side and kept there. Next comes the business of cutting-
in, which means cutting off the blubber and bone that are
wanted. Stages, such as ships' painters use, are slung over
the side of the vessel, and the first-class cutters, generally
the ship's oflieers. stand on these stages with long-handled
spades. The cutting-iu begins at the place where the back-
bone joins the 'head, and the first strip taken oft" there is
called the blanket piece. The pieces of blubber are hauled
up with tackles, and these rip them off while the spades
cut. It's a long and tough job, and ft makes a new hand
pretty sick. Hut it's child's play to what comes next,
which is the trying-out. Say, I'd rather be a green hand
again than have another job at trying-out."
" Well, tell us about it, anyhow," said Farmer Joe.
"It ain't any use to make a long yarn of that," con-
tinued Handsome. " The try-works, as they call them, are
a sort of Dutch oven, built of bricks, ami situated amid-
ships. A couple of big iron pots stand on top of the oveu,
and the blubber, minced up, is put into them. Yon start a
lire in the oven, and thai boils out the oil, which is ladled
out into casks, and then all hands turn to and pick out the
pieces of fat and scraps so as to leave nothing put pure oil.
Well, to heave ahead with the yarn, we had our whale
alongside overnight, and the next morning we started at
ciitting-in. About the time we'd got ready for trying-out,
and started the tires. I he biveye began to freshen up, and it
looked rather dirty lip to windward. The Captain said we
must shake a leg with the trying-out.
•• ' Boys,' says he, 'we got to boil this oil with stn'ns'ls
set. because before we get it done we'll be under a
reefed maintops'!.'
"Well, bless you, he hadn't innrh more than got the
words out of his mouth than the mast-head fellow lets out
a yell :
" 'There she blows! And there she breaches!'
"Now it wouldn't make any difference to a whaler if he
thought the world was a-goiug to come to an end iu ten.
minutes, he'd lower away if he saw a spout. So the Cap-
tain gave orders for two boats to get under way in chase
of the new whales. One of the boats was the oue I be-
longed to, and the next thing I knew I was sitting on my
thwart. The sail was hoisted, and we went scudding down
to l, -nn-arcl at a rattling gait. Say, it wasn't altogether
agreeable to sit in that boat and notice the width and
height- of the sea that was getting up. But we soon forgot
all about it in the excitement of going on.
•• • It's a-goiug to be a tough job getting this whale along-
side.'says i, ne of the i
" ' Wait till we get him first.' says Bacon.
'•Well.it \\asoiii-.-liauee.and Kaeon slung the iron into
him with a vim. I'p went ilnkes and down went whale,
lie soon came up and began to swim to windward at a
tearful speed. The seas thundered against the bow of our
boat, and great sheets of water came tumbling inboard.
"'Bale there, bale !' yelled Bacon, 'or the boat '11' fill and
sink!'
" You can bet we didn't need to be told twice. We hadn't
fairly got started when the whale sounded, aud we could
tell by the trend of the line that he was coming back tow-
ard the boat.
" ' Look out !' shouted Bacon.
"The next second the brute shot clear out of the water
not fifty feet off the starboard beam of our boat, and raised
such a wave when he fell back into the sea that he nearly
swamped us.
" ' For goodness" sake,' says one of the men. ' cut the line
and let him go.'
" ' We'll never get back to the ship alive,' says another ;
' look at the sea. It's blowing a gale.'
"Well, it was blowing iu a bit of a squall just then, but
Bacon's blood was np, and he was bound to' have that
whale.
" ' Pull me up to him !' be shouted.
" We obeyed orders, and Bacon drove the lauce right into
his life.
" ' Starn all !' he yelled, and we didn't get out of the way
a second too quick, for the monster went into his Hurry,
and beat the sea into an acre of foam with his immense
flukes. However, there he was dead enough, and in the
mean time the ship had worked down to leeward of ns. ami
was close at hand. It was a pretty troublesome piece of
work to pass the line around his small in such a nasty sea;
we managed to do it after tour or live trials, and he was
hauled alongside the ship just as it began to grow dark.
Now I tell you what, lads, it was a very uncommon sight.
There was the ship beginning to roll uneasily in the rising
sea. \\ ith a blazing, smoking furnace amidships, looking for
all the world as if she was on fire, aud a whale on each
side of her. The boats were hauled up, aud then, the Cap-
tain looked about him.
" ' Cut the old whale adrift,' says he ; ' we can't tow the
two of them iu this weather, and we've got about the best
of his oil.'
"So we cut the carcass adrift, and it went rolling off
down to leeward. It hadn't got fifty yards from the ship
before all the water around it was black with sharks' tins,
and the next instant a dozen of these wolves of the sea ap-
peared, leaping and thrashing the water in their mad strug-
gles to get at the remains of the whale. They seemed like
regular demons, so fiercely did they attack the carcass, rip-
ping away the remaining shreds of flesh, and smashing the
bones iu their powerful jaws. In five minutes the body
was torn to pieces and the sharks disappeared, leaving ns
to imagine what would have happened to some of us if a
boat had happened to capsize iu the chase. Well, the gale
increased in strength, and the sea rose more and more. The
( 'aptain didn't want to lose the whale, so he hove the ship
to with the dead monster under our lee, where he rode pretty
well, except that once in a while when we rolled heavily he
would come up against the side of the ship with a thump
that threatened to shake the timbers apart. However, the
Captain said he was going to hang on till he found it was
a case of life or death. All of a sudden we were startled by
a terrible cry,
'"Fire."
"Eveiy man looked iu the direction from which the cry
came, and we saw a small but lively flame stealing up near
the foot of the mainmast.
• • It's from the try-works!' shouted Bacon.
"Sure enough the gale had taken up every one's atfceu-
tiou so that we all forgot about the fire iu the try-works.
It hadn't been put out, and now a coal or a spark 'or some-
thing had fallen on the deck, aud the damage was done."
"Why didn't- you pui it out .'" asked one of the listeners.
"Put it out!" exclaimed Handsome; "why, man alive.
don't you know the condition a whale ship is in when try-
594
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
ing-out is going on? She was simply afloat with whale
oil. The deck was running with it; every plank and bit
of loose rigging was soaked with it. Put it out ! Why,
we did all that mortal man could think of. The Captain
ordered us to get up all the tarpaulins and spare canvas,
and try to smother it, but, bless you. as soon as we threw
them over the fire they soaked up the oil and began to
burn. We fought the tire with the energy of desperate
men, for we knew that if we had to take to the boats the
chances of our ever seeing land again in such a sea would
be pretty slim. Finally the Captain said he would try a
desperate scheme. As yet the flames were around the
decks and lower masts. What he proposed to do was to
let the ship fall off into the trough of the sea in hopes
that a big wave would sweep her deck and drown out the
fire. Everything was made ready, and then with a face
full of sorrow he gave the order to cut loose the carcass of
the whale. He was afraid to let it hang there with the
ship broadside on. We cut it loose, and then he ordered
the helm to be put up, and all hands to take to the rigging.
We went up with a good deal of misgiving. The ship fell
off into the trough and wallowed there. The seas broke
over her here and there, hut not in sufficient volume to
drown the fire, which was gaining headway all the time,
and was now beginning to send tongues of llame up the
rigging, as if in a mad attempt to drive us poor fellows out
of our refuge.
"'It won't do,' says the Captain; 'we must lay down,
lads, and take to the boats.'
"We all started for the deck, when suddenly Bacon
uttered a fearful cry :
"•Look! Look!'
"He was pointing to windward, and lookigig in that
direction, we all saw a tremendous wave rolling down upon
the ship with the speed of an express train. We stopped
where we were, and clung with an intense grip to the rig-
ging. The wave came. It pitched the vessel up as if she
were a chip of wood, and thing her over on her beam ends.
There was a crashing and rending of wood, and several
wild shrieks from the men as the foremast went by the
board. There were half a dozen fellows on it, and they
were plunged into that raging sea. I never saw them
again. The rest of us "were hanging on as best we could,
when the very next wave that came put out the fire sure
enough, for it turned the EUen Burgee bottom up."
Handsome paused for a moment, as if overcome by the
dreadful recollection.
" Well," he continued, " when she went over, I let go of
the rigging and threw myself into the sea. I made up my
mind it was all over with me, yet it turned out that this
•was not to be the case. I was buried under a ton or two
of foaming water, but I came to the surface again, and found
myself a long distance off from the overturned ship, which
was fast settling in the water. I struck out, as a man will
even when he doesn't know what use it is, and kept my-
self afloat for several minutes, the waves all the time driv-
ing me to leeward. Suddenly I saw a dark mass tumbling
on the seas a short distance away. I thought it must be
one of our boats that had got loose when the ship went
over, and so I struck out for it. I was growing weak,
blind, and dazed in the heavy seas, when I was caught up
by a wave and flung squarely on top of the floating object.
I grabbed wildly, and caught hold of something hard and
slimy. I citing to it, though, and to my great amazement I
found I was hanging to the flipper of the dead whale. You
know they float on their sides when dead, with one flipper
up in the air and the other underwater. Well, it wasn't
much of a life-raft, as you may well suppose, but a man in
such a fix as I was will take anything he can get. I hung
on there all right, the deart whale jumping and tumbling
under me like a live fish. Toward morning the wind shift-
ed, and at sunrise the gale broke. The sea began to go
down right away, but a great swell was running. When
the sun got fairly up I realized what a terrible position I
was in. The heat was intense, and the gases from the car-
cass nearly overwhelmed me. But that was nothing. The
. air was filled with the discordant cries of hungry sea-birds.
They swooped down from every direction, and pecked at
the carcass. They beat at me with their wings, and acted
as if they knew I was a doomed man, and the sooner they
could drive me into the sea the better for me. But I fought
them oft", and sitting with one leg on each side of the Hip-
per and clasping it with one arm, I clung to my dreadful
life-buoy.
"And now came a new horror. Sharks appeared and be-
gan to fight around the whale, snapping and lilting and
tearing off pieces of the flesh. I realized that if this con-
tinued uiy life-buoy would be destroyed; but I was help-
less. Then thirst began to torture me. All day long I
tossed on that dead wha.le, with the birds and the sharks
around me. At nightfall a gentle shower came, and by
holding my mouth open I managed to relieve my thirst
a little. As soon as it became dark the birds and the sharks
left me, and presently, utterly exhausted, I fell asleep, lean-
ing against the flipper. I remember that I was quite con-
scious of the danger of falling off my perch into the sea and
drowning; but I didn't care. How long I slept I do not
know. It must have been five or six hours. I was awaken-
ed by a heavy shock, and I found myself plunged into the
sea. Involuntarily I uttered a scream for help.
" ' Great Scott ! there's a man,' I heard a voice say. ' Hang
on there, lad. Catch this.'
"Plump came a circular -white life-buoy into the sea,
luckily falling within my reach. A few minutes later a
boat had been lowered away, and I learned that my dead
whale had been run down in the darkness by the ship Full
Moon, bound for Liverpool from Hong-Kong. And so I was
taken to England, with a pretty clear determination in my
head never to go whaling again."
JUNE FLOAVERS.
HERE and there a clai>\ .'
And now and then a clover?
And once a week a buttercup.
And so the whole land over?
A rose within the garden?
A lily in the sun 1
Does dear old Mother Nature
Count flowers one by one ?
No ; daisies by the acre,
And clovers millionfold,
The meadows pink with blushing,
The pastures white and gold.
And roses, like the children,
Abloom at every door,
And buttercups as countless
As the sand upon the shore.
Dear Mother Nature scatters
Her flowers on road-side edge ;
She carpets every forest,
And curtains every ledge.
And then she sets us dancing
To such a merry tune,
For all the world is laughing,
And, darlings, this is June!
"HARRY, here are three apples; now suppose I wanted
you to divide them equally between James, John, and your-
self, how would you do it .'''
" I'd give them one and keep the others.'
" Why, how do you make that out ?"
"Well, you see,'it would be one for those two, and one
for me, too."
595
STORIES OF OUR GOVERNMENT.
WHAT OUR REPRESENTATIVES DO.
BY
CABOT LODGE,
THE HONORABLE HENRY
UNITED STATES SENATOR FUOJI MASSACIII-SETTS.
IT is not easy to describe in a short article an average claj
i,, fclie II,, use of Keprcsentalives. 'I'll.- great days are
, sci |iti..nal.ainl a single historic scene gives no idea of the
,,. day work of the House. Moreover, if history is made
<„) ili,. .ia.vs nhen excitement rims high, the business of
carryiug o'n Hi,- government is ilonr every day, anil it is
nl.oul tTic- la Her t'lial you wish to learn. My way of hegin-
iiin,',lct me say a word al.ont the place where this work is
done. The House of Kepresenlatives holds its sessions m
the southern win;; of the Cai.itol at \\ashingtou. The
House i- verj large, righl alibied, and rigid, with little or-
nament, and 'without, beauty of proportion. The walls go
up for a bout lift, 'en feet, and
from that point the galleries
slant back until they reach
the next lloor of the. build-
ing. The i oof is a vast ex-
panse of glass, with the arms
of each State painted on 1 he
square panels. The general
eifeet is grayness of color
and .'i size whieh ean be mea-
sured in acres better than in
feet. Against the southern
wall is placed a high white
marble dais or tribune, where
the Speaker or presiding of-
ficer sits. Below the Speak-
er's desk and in descending
tiers, also of white marble,
sit the clerks of the House
and the official reporters.
Facing the Speaker, and
ranged in a semicircle, are
360 desks, with a correspond-
ing number of chairs, which
are. or ought to be. occupied
by the :(.">! i KVprcM-ntatives
and the four Territorial del-
egates.
Such is the place, but it
•would require a volume, and
a very uninteresting one,
too, to explain the machinery
used in transacting the busi-
ness for which this urea I hall
is provided. Nevertheless,
it is possible, perhaps, to
give you iu a general way
some idea of an ordinary
day's work in the lower
branch of Congress. In theory, the House ought to take up
its calendars on each day and dispose of each article iu its
order. lint the great beauty of the calendars is that iu
practice they are never taken up at all.
How then, you will ask, is business done if the House
never takes up the list of measures prepared for its consid-
eration ? It is done by a s\ stem of special rules. The Com-
mittee on Knles brings in a rule that the House shall take up,
let us say the tariff, on a certain day, shall debate it a cer-
tain length of time, and shall then vote. This rule is adopt-
ed, the bill selected is taken from the calendar, and every-
thing else gi\es way until the taritVis disposed of. Appro-
ion bills are privileged, because they provide the
inonev necessarj t<> carrj on the government, and require
uorule to be br,uii;ht up. l!ut all the. other business of the
House is done practically under special rules; in other
words, the Committee on Rules selects out of the mass of
business presented a small portion which the House shall
consider, and to that small selection all the time of the
House is devoted.
Inneine then, that the House as you watch it from the
gallerf has come to the end of the morning hour, and has
taken up the special order of the day made for it by its
Committee on Kules. If it is the first time the subject has
come up the chairman of the committee making the report
opens the debate. In any event, when the business of the
,l,v is thus laid before the House the debate begins. To
•in'v one who comes iuto the House gallery tor the. first time.
,1,;. scene on the floor is one of apparently hopeless con-
fusion Members are reading, writing, talking, and mov-
ing about the chamber. There is an incessant murmur and
buzz of conversation along the aisles and in the galleries.
You who are looking on see
a member rise aud begin to
talk, some times quietly, more
often with great violence
aud excitement, not because
he is really excited, but be-
cause he wishes to be heard
above the din. Your ears
are not accustomed to the
noise, and you do not hear
what is said. Still less can
you guess what it is all
about, and yet business is
not proceeding by chance,
aud there are men on that
confused floor who know ex-
actly what is happening, and
how the business is going on.
You may have been unlucky
in your day. aud no measure
of great interest being up,
it may seem as if it were use-
less to stay, but if you will
be patient, and bear with the
confusion for the. time, or
perhaps come back another
day, you will have your re-
ward. You will see the House
reach an exciting point in a
debate, or some subject of
great popular interest will
come up, and theu a sharp
contest will follow between
different members, which
will be full of interest.
Instead of reading aud
writing and talking and
moving about, you will see
the members gather about
the man who is speaking and those who are debating with
him. Silence will come on the floor and in the galleries,
broken by bursts of applause, as one member makes a sharp
point or retorts quickly on his opponent. Nothing is more
interesting than good debate of this kind, when men who
are feucing or sparring with their wits instead of their
hands. You will be surprised to see how easy it now
is to know what is going on. You will be glad that you
came to the gallery, for every wholesome - minded being
likes to see a fair contest, whether of brains or mus-
cles, and incidentally you will see how we English-speak-
ing people have hammered out by discussion the laws
under which we live, and have gained the liberty we
enjoy. ( in the. other hand, let us suppose that yon are for-
tunate enough to get, into the gallery on a day of great de-
bate, when set speeches are to be made by the leaders on
either side. A man ari.s, s near the middle of the House, a
man whose laee is familiar to you, because you have seen
it so often in the illustrated papers, and all in a moment
the House is hushed, aud every word that the speaker says
500
HOX. C. F. CRISP, SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE.
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
falls distinctly upon yonr ear. Their, again, you feel re-
warded, for you are hearing a party leader speak and are
seeing a man about whom yon have read. If it is the day
upon which a great debate closes, the last speeches are made
by the two leaders of the opposite sides, the galleries are
crowded, but as every one is eager to hear, there is no
difficulty in catching every word. The leader of the mi-
nority delivers his last assault upon the bill, the leader of
the majority replies to him, and then the Speaker of the
House says: "The hour having arrived at which the House
has ordered that the debate be closed, the vote will now be
taken upon the bill and amendments." Then comes the
voting, a dreary process for everybody, for each roll-call
occupies half an hour, and when it is done the Speaker an-
nounces the vote, and de-
clares the bill passed or de-
feated as the case may be. If
it is then more than five
o'clock one of the leaders of
the majority moves that the
House adjourn, the Speaker
declares the motion carried,
and then the House stands ad-
journed until the next morn-
ing at twelve o'clock.
Such in very rough outline
is a day in the House of Rep-
resentatives wheu some sub-
ject which awakens differ-
ences spring up, or when a
great debate closes or some
important bill is passed. But
there are many other days
when no conclusion is reach-
ed, and still others which are
consumed in roll-calls and
motions designed to waste
time, and to stop all action.
If you chance to come on a
day of that kind, the sooner
you go away the better for
your own comfort. The mem-
bers must stay, but you need
not.
It would, however, take a
great deal more space than I
have here to give you a de-
scription of the various scenes
which occur in the House
of Representatives, but the
rough, sketch which I have
drawn may help you to some
idea of what happens in the
great popular body which
with the Senate makes laws
for the people of the United
States. It is a good deal bet-
ter, however, that every Amer-
ican boy and girl should come
to Washington if they can
possibly manage it, and try to
learn from observation what
their government is, and how
it is carried on. They will
have some dull hours if they
pass many in the galleries of
the House of Representatives,
but they may have some min-
utes of great interest, which
they will always be glad to
remember, and they are cer-
tain to go away with a greater
ability to judge intelligently
their public men, and in this
way be of better service them-
selves .as American citizens
responsible for the govern-
ment of their country. If
yon cannot get to Washington, try to see your own Legis-
lature in session, or your own city and town government.
Yon will learn a great deal that will be useful to you when
you come of age, and therefore responsible for your vote
or influence for the government of the United States, which
is always in the long-run what the people themselves make
it.
THE LITTLE COLLECTOR.
I DON'T care lunch for the postage-stamps
Themselves — 'tween me aud you;
The fun I get collecting conies
From sticking 'em in, with glue.
AN EXCITING MOMENT IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES.
597
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
AN KXTKKI'I.ISING PHOTOGRAPHER.
rnilE recent war between China and .lap:.... which now
1 seems ... be practically over, fortunately, was watched
In- all the militarv and naval men In the world with • greal
Ll o£ interest, for it was the first real war in which many
„,.,,„. „„„,,,,, inventions in war-ships aii.lar.nv accoutre-
Ints were given a fair trial. To be sure China had In,
thai was modern in her army and navy, though some >
the 3hips of her navy were- of recent European build, and
were manned by capable seamen and good fighting-men
,.„„ fche Japanese certainly did have many .,1 the modem
inventions in their cruisers.and they made most effi
use of them. „ .
The correspondents of the great papers of the world,
]-.owc ver, seem to have suffered, and whether this is a de-
velopment of modern warfare, or because the Japanese
.„„! Chinese did not understand and appreciate their posi-
tion,,Iocs not appear to have been settled. At all event:
the correspondents from Jripan and China, u well as those
from European and American countries, went about then
always dangerous business at their peril, and were in con-
stant danger of being captured and hung or murdered by
either partv. Sonic of these bright and daring men did lose
their lives 'there, and no one takes the trouble to sing a re-
quiem over them in verse or prose, but others, m spite of
all the opposition, got to and remained at the trout, and
succeeded in sending
out accurate news to
their papers.
It was one of these
successful newspaper
men, and a Japanese
at that, who originated
the idea of using a bal-
loon to help him get to
the front, as well as to
keep him safely ont of
the reach of both con-
testants. He procured
a balloon, several, iu
fact — and had a pecul-
iar metal frame -work
constructed, which held
him firmly in place un-
der the balloon, and left
his arms free, so that he
could use them to write,
or to work a huge cam-
era that was also at-
tached and supported
by the same iron frame.
By means of straps over
his shoulders and about
his body he could keep
himself moderately firm
in his position, and his
camera reasonably sta-
tionary, except, of
course, for the movements of the balloon itself, which he
could not regulate.
Several times this correspondent was sent up in his bal-
loon, ami In-Ill by an assistant, with the help of a long rope
far above houses, and even hills, so that he could take pho-
io".r;i|>hs on his huge lens of the general view of a battle,
while he himself was either too far away or too nnimpor-
lani at the moment to the combatants to tempt them to fire
upon him. In this way he succeeded in securing some as-
tonishing views. They were, of course, very far removed
from the scene of action, too far to give much of the small
di -tails, but they presented u bird's-eye view of the whole
battle, which proved of great interest. Occasionally, be-
eause of .-i smlden movement of the balloon, he " took '' the
skv or a distant landscape instead of the raging battle
beneath him, but these little mistakes were insignificant
when, on being hauled down, he discovered two or three
views that showed charges of cavalry here, repulses of in-
fantry there, and smoke and strife, bursting shells and burn-
in" houses, every where.
Sometimes the photographer would go up in hi.- camera-
balloon without being held to the earth by a rope, and
then he might drift with the wind over the battle-field, or
quietly drift away without getting a chance to "shoot."
As a rule, however, calculations were pretty well made be-
fore the rope was dropped, and then the balloon was al-
lowed to float where it would, with the comparative cer-
tainty that it would pass over, or nearly over, the scene of
action.
Here is a chance for photographers who want to take
new scenes and original things with their cameras. The
earth at a few hundred feet distance would look like a big
bowl covered with many little roofs, laced with white roads,
along which funny little animals would be seen crawling
along at a snail's pace.
OUR FLAG.
FLING it from mast and steeple,
Symbol o'er land and sea.
Of the* life of a happy people,
Gallant and strong and free.
Proudly we view its colors,
Flag of the brave and true,
With the clustered stars and the steadfast bars,
The red, the white, and the blue.
Flag of the fearless-hearted,
Flag of the broken chain,
Flag in a day-dawn started,
Never to pale or wane.
Dearly we prize its colors,
With the heaven light breaking through,
The clustered stars and the steadfast bars,
The red, the white, and the blue.
Flag of the sturdy fathers,
Flag of the loyal sous,
r.eneath its folds it gathers
Earth's best and noblest ones.
Boldly we wave its colors,
Our veins are thrilled anew ;
By the steadfast bars, the clustered stars,
The red, the white, and the blue.
MARGARET E. SAXGSTER.
PHOTOGRAPHER AT WORK.
A WISE old doctor, for the benefit ot his health, travelled
around the country iu a caravan, in which he lived,
stopping for short periods at the larger towns. He had a
young lad for an assistant, who was more or less quirk and
intelligent, but rather inclined to jump at conclusions.
The doctor taught him a little medicine whenever he could
spare the time, and he learned considerable, but diagnosis
were to him still a, mystery, especially iu some cases, when
the wise old doctor had used his eyes to detect the source
of the illness.
They were staying for a few days in the town of B ,
and the doctor had been in some demand, having at a pre-
vious visit secured a reputation by some apparently mar-
vellous cures. His young assistant accompanied him on
one occasion, when the doctor had pronounced the patient
sick from eating too many oysters. This puzzled the lad.
and when they left the house he asked his master how he
knew the patient had been eating oysters. " Very simple,"
his master replied, " I saw a lot of oyster shells in the fire-
place, and the answers to a few questions were all I needed
to make a diagnosis."
One day, his master being away when a call came, he
determined to answer it, and see if he could diagnose the
case. He returned shortly after, and triumphantly told the
doctor that the man was sick from eating too much horse.
" A horse, you stupid fool !" cried the irate doctor. " What
do you mean?"
"Why, master, it couldn't be anything else, because I
saw a saddle and stirrups under the bed."
598
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
A PLEASANT DISAPPOINTMENT.
BY J. SANFORD BARNES, JUN,
I DON'T believe that Mr. Henry ever thought what a
queer combination of nicknames his son would have
when lie named him Thomas Richard. Some called him
"Tom, "some "Dick," and others, instead of calling him by
his last name, Henry, changed that, too, to " Harry," so he
became Tom, Dick, and Harry rolled into one.
Mr. Henry was a great sportsman, and many a time had
Tom listened to his father and one of his friends plan out
a day's shooting. Tom had often made his little plans,
only to be carried out in his dreams. But at last, one Sep-
tember evening, in his twelfth year, dreams could no longer
satisfy him. As he sat in his father's "den" after supper,
looking for the hundredth time through the book of colored
sporting incidents and game-birds, taking occasional long
glances at the little sixteen -bore which hung over his
father's head, as he sat at his desk reading the Fun-it mnl
Stream, Tom was really developing a plan. He must go
shooting, and with a real gun of some kind. "Sling-shots"
he was done with ; then he knew if he asked permission,
•what the answer would be, and therefore he decided that
his hunting-trip must be made " on the sly," and this alone
was one cause for the rather restless night which followed.
As he turned the pages of the big book he began to imag-
ine himself in the place of the tall man in the picture just
taking a partridge from his dog's mouth, and on the next
page he was the short thick-set man in brown hunting-
coat walking up to his dogs, who were " stiff" and " stanch "
on a covey of quail, which in pictures you can always see
hiding in the clump of bushes.
Now, Tom, Dick, and Harry had a friend, and that friend
had a Flobert rifle, and on that friend's willingness to lend
he was counting strongly. The game did not seem to
worry him; he kept thinking of a certain patch of black-
berry bushes just outside a small piece of woods, where he
had often started up an old cock partridge, in fact, he knew
so much about that partridge that once he crept up on him,
and almost got a shot at him with the now-to-be-despised
"sling-shot"; and with a Flobert — even if his father had
said that no true sportsman would shoot a bird on the
"sit" — he felt sure he could get him, aud if he did he'd
come home, own up, and trust to luck for the rest, but lie
was somewhat doubtful as to the reception he would meet.
The morning was bright and clear as Tom left the house
to go down aud "see what Jim Vail was going to do that
day," aud once outside the gate excitement again got hold
of him, aud he broke into a run; it was well he did, for
about ten minutes later, as he turned into Mr. Vail's place,
Jim was on the point of mounting bis bicycle to start for
a ride.
•• >:iy, Jim," he shouted, " wait a second; I waut to ask
you something."
"Well, Tommy," he answered, " what can I do for you
to-day ? I'm going to get some exercise and get in shape
for football at school ; I got a letter from Ted yesterday,
and he asked me to. I guess he's written to the rest of last
year's team to do the same thing. I suppose you're going to
ride your pony. But, really, what do you want .'''
" Jim," said Tom, "I'm going to ask a favor of you. But
first I waut you to say you won't tell anybody anything
about it. You won't, will you ?"
"Of course not ; but what it is ?" replied Jim.
"Well, "said Tom, slowly, "I'm going shooting, and I
want you to lend me your Flobert rifle ; you don't use it
very much since your father gave you that beauty gun.
I'll be careful, and I'll clean it all up for you when I'm
done. Say, will you do it ?"
Jim saw a chance for a little lecture, and came near giv-
ing it, but he thought of his popularity with the small boys
and resisted.
"But, Tom," he answered, "how are you going to work
it? I'll lend it to you, of course, but I don't waut to get
into any scrape with your father, and you'd better be care-
ful, too. Now, what's your plan ?"
Toui had this all arranged the moment he had seen Jim
aud the bicycle.
"I've got that all fixed," said Tom. "Sa\.\oii don't
mind where you ride, do you? Now, I tell you what you
do; just give me some cartridges, and then you start oft'
with the rifle on your 'bike,' and ride down the hill by
• Daddy Wilson's' — that's where I'm going to go shooting.
When you get to the bridge, get off just a minute, and go
down nuder the bridge aud leave it on top the highest Ing
nmler the boards on this side the brook, and then ride on
and forget all about it. Catch ?"
Jim "caught," and after another word of warning to be
very careful, both in regard to the rifle and getting caught,
he started, having left a bos of Flobert cartridges with
Tom.
" Daddy Wilson's" was quite a mile and a half from Jim's
house ; hut it did not take Tom long to cover the distance,
aud iu a very short- time he was under the bridge aud out
agaiu on the other side with the rifle under his arm. His
experience had been very limited with firearms, but he had
a natural gift of being "handy" with almost anything,
and he acted as though hunting were an old pastime, and
the gun a companion of years. However, he thought it
best to try aud sec' how it went, aud was just taking aim at
a little yellow chipmunk, when the sound of an approach-
ing carriage made him change his mind, and dart under the
bridge and wait ; he had caught a glimpse of a certain fa-
miliar white horse, and as it trotted over the bridge, shak-
ing a little stream of dust through the cracks and down his
neck, he realized he bad had a narrow escape After it
had gone by, he tried his aim on an old greeu frog, aud laid
him out ".flatter'n a pan-cake," as he said to himself. Two
or three more trials were made, and he started through the
woods for his blackberry patch, first walking very care-
fully, and finally creeping on all fours; but whatever the
reason, that wily cock partridge had had his breakfast and
declined to be found, and Tom was disappointed and cast
down ; he had counted on that bird to ease the reception
he would meet at home, and now he would have to return
empty handed. However, he made up his mind " he'd shoot
something," aud for an hour or more he popped ineffectu-
ally at chipmunks and small birds, and was really enjoying
the sport, when it struck him that late to dinner would re-
quire au explanation, and thus greatly increase the chances
of the very thiug which he now wanted to avoid. So he
hurried towards home, and went iu through the place by a
back way, intending to leave the rifle at the stable. The
coachman was a good friend of his, and would clean aud
return it, and everything would be all right agaiu. Now
it happened that Mr. Henry was having built a small shed
and tool-house behind his house, aud, as luck would have
it, he was watching its progress at the very moment when
Tom emerged from behind some bushes, and unconsciously
was walking down this back road towards the stable with
the Flobert held close along his leg on the side farthest
away from the house, so that "no one could guess he had
anything." All looked smooth sailing. Suddenly he was
startled by a familiar voice,
•' Hey, Tom !" it called ; " what you got there ?"
There was no escape.
"A rifle, sir," replied Tom, in a rather muffled voice.
"A what!" cried the voice.
" A rifle, sir," replied Tom, again.
" Bring it here," was the short reply, and over across the
field went Tom to his doom.
" Go back there and get one of those carpenters to give
you a good sized shingle," said Mr. Henry, "aud give me
the gun."
"Well," said Tom to himself, "I knew I was taking
risks," and he returned in a moment with the shingle, aud
looking his father straight iu the eye waited the uext
command.
"Now," said Mr. Henry, iu his severest tones, "take that
shingle and put it up against that big tree, aud give me
a cartridge."
Surprise and wonder are no names for the feelings that
ran through Tom's mind; it made him tingle up and down
his backbone — he couldn't say a single word; but there
were more surprises to follow.
"What you been shooting, Tommy? Elephants, heyf"
599
HARPEK'S ROUND TABLE
HE CAUGHT A GLIMPSE! OF A CERTAIN FAMILIAR WHITE HORSE.
said Mr. Heury, after firing all the cartridges Tom had left;
"or was it only small game — a panther or lynx — you were
after tbis morning .'"
Tom's courage began to return, and as lie found liis father
in such a splendid mood he was not going to allow himself
to be blufi'ed.
"I went out after partridges, sir," he said, "and I thought
I'd have one for supper to-night for mamma ; hut he wasn't
there. I was sure I'd get one."
lu a short time Mr. Henry had the whole story, and not
a word of fault was found, and Tom thought he had the
finest father in the world ; he thought so before, but after
this incident there was uo doubt about it.
Ou the evening of the same day Tom was again devour-
ing the " bird hook," as he had always called it. Mr. Henry,
who had been writing at his desk, pushed himself back, and
looking at Tom, a smile crept over his face. His son was
exactly as he had been at that age, and the reason of his
lenient treatment of what many fathers would have given
a severe punishment for was because he knew a good deal
of the world, and especially how to treat a boy who had
inherited a sportsman's love of woods and guns, and was
not to blame for it. Tom was bending close over the book
to see whether it was a woodcock or a quail the dog was
pointing, wheu Mr. Heury startled him as he said with a
laugh,
"My boy, did yon really think you'd get a partridge?
Why, Dr. Carver himself couldn't shoot a partridge with a
rifle ; why didn't yon come and ask me for my gun ?"
'"Cause I didn't think you'd lend it to me, "said Tom,
" and I was afraid you'd suspect something. I'll come to
you to-morrow," he added, as a quiet joke on his father.
But the way his father took his little joke nearly made
him " have a fit," as ho told Jim Vail afterwards.
"All right, Tommy," said Mr. Heury, " come to me after
breakfast and I'll fix you out."
Auother restless night followed by another beautiful
morning, and down across the field trudged Tom, Dick, aud
Harry, but it looked like a brown shooting-coat walking
by itself with two setters following after it through curi-
osity. There went Tom with a real guu — the little six-
teen-bore — a real hnuting-
coat, sleeves rolled up aud
pinned to hold them, aud
down below his knees, to
be sure ; real cartridges in
his pocket, aud to make it
complete two real bird-
dogs. He was goiug to be
the man iu the " bird book,"
aud best of all there was uo
"on the sly " about it.
Down back of the place
beyond the "muck pond,"
where Tom had often
caught live bait for his fa-
ther, and had slaughtered
many a fine fat frog, to say
nothing of the turtles and
lizards which had been the
starting of a small museum
of whicli he was sole propri-
etor, down beyond this
pond he struck into the
woods aud let "Jet" the
Gordon and "Bang" the
Irish setter run. He fol-
lowed them closely. Soon
they came to a point, and
he walked towards them.
But here's where there
was a difference between
the picture aud his po-
sition at that moment; he
looked in vain for the
bird; in the picture he
could see it, hut, try his
best, lie could not see it in life. The dogs worried a little,
he stepped on a twig which cracked; whir! and up got
Mr. Partridge from the bushes — not exactly where Tom
had expected — and whirled off, Tom crouching down to
see w here he lit, to try him again. Time and again the
same thing happened, but Tom never could seem to see the
bird till he got up, and he never thought to try him Hying.
The dogs got tired of this kind of shooting aud came iu "to
heel," and finally, rather discouraged and decidedly tired,
Tom sat down to decide whether he would go home or not.
He was sitting under a large pine-tree aud thinking what
his father would say, when out of the branches above his
head sailed, with a quiet, subdued whir, the very bird he
had been chasing so long. It settled not more thau thirty
yards off on the roots of an upturned birch-tree and began
a gentle cluck, spreading its faulike tail and shaking its
feathers, but only for a moment. Tom's chance had come.
A hurried and excited aim, a loud bang, and the partridge
was fluttering on the ground, and Tom was stooping over
it; the gun was back where he had shot from; he had
gotten to the bird before the dogs. What he w anted was
a partridge in his coat pocket ; he did not seem so anxious
to have the dogs hand it to him as his dreams had made
him.
Tell the truth, Tom ran most of the way home. He met
his father on the driveway, and a sudden composure took
hold of him.
"Say, Pop," he said, "it aiu'fc so easy as one thinks, is it?"
"I'll bet yon didn't get anything, not even a chipper
bird," said Mr. Henry ; " now did you ?"
Tom braced himself, his heart was beating fast, aud the
shivers were agatn making him jump and wriggle.
"I only got one decent shot," replied Tom, beginning
very coolly, "but I got him, aud mamma '11 have that bird
I didn't get yesterday to-night for supper. Look at that!"
he shouted the last part of his sentence, and swinging the
bird in front of his father's face, darted past to show and
tell all iu the house, leaving Mr. Henry in blank astouish-
luent. What he was saying to himself was:
" I'll get that boy the prettiest gun iu the city for Christ-
mas, that's what I'll do; he'll he giving aie points before
long."
600
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
BY KIRK M U X R O E.
C H A P T E n XXIX.
A WILDKP.XESS (USPIIAX.
HE position in which Phil now found liimself was cer-
tainly a perplexing one. I3y the very simple process
of getting lost he had discovered Cree Jim's cabin, lint was
appalled to consider what else he had found at the same
time. He uo\v knew that the remainder of their journey,
its most difficult and dangerous portion, must he under-
taken without a guide. Not only this, but they must be
burdened with a child so young as to he practically help-
less. In the mean time, what was to be done with those
silent and motionless forms whose dread presence, so per-
vaded that lonely cabin ? And how was he to communi-
cate with his friends? There was no back trail to follow,
for the snow had wiped it out. He did not even know in
which direction camp lay, for in the ardor of his chase the
evening before he had taken no note of course nor dis-
tance.
There was the stream, though, on whose bank the cabin
was perched. It must flow into the river. Yes, that was
his only hope. But the river might be miles away, and the
camp as much farther, if, indeed, it could still be found
where he had left it. But of course it would he! So long
as Serge Belcofslcy and Jalap Coombs had life and strength
to search for him that camp would remain a permanent fix-
ture until he returned to it. Phil was absolutely sure of
that, and he now realized, as never before, the priceless
value of a friendship whose loyalty is beyond doubt.
So the plan was formed. He would go down the stream
and up the river until he found camp. Then he would
bring Serge and a sledge back with him. In the mean time
the child must be left where he was, for Phil doubted if
he could carry him over the weary miles that hi! knew
must lie between the cabin and camp, while for the little
fellow to walk that distance was out of the question.
Phil sat on a stool before the lire while doing all this
thinking. As he rose to carry out his plan, Nel-te, who
was becoming terrified at his mother's silence in spite of
his efforts to attract her attention, slipped from the bed,
ran to his new friend, and thrusting a cold little hand into
one of his, looked up with a smile of such perfect trust that
Phil snatched him in his arms and kissed him, at the same
lime giving him a great ling.
Then lie said: "Now, Nel-te, brother Phil is going away
for a little while to get some doggies for you to play with,
and you must stay here like a good boy, and not open the
door until he comes back. Do you understand ?"
"Yes; me go get doggies. Nel-te like doggies. Good
doggies." And almost before Phil knew what the child
was about he had slipped from his arms, run to the door,
and was putting on the tiny snow-shoes that had been left
outside. Then with an engaging smile, he called, cheerily :
"Come. Nel-te say come. Get doggies."
" All right, little chap. I expect your plan is as good as
mine, after all," replied Phil, into whose mind had just
Hashed the promise made to that dead mother, never to
desert her baby. " And here I was, about to begin by doing
that very thing,'' he reflected as he glanced at the marble
face overspread by an expression of perfect content that
his promise had brought.
Moved by a sudden impulse he picked up the boy, and,
bringing him back, held him so that he might kiss the
peaceful face. This the child did with a soft cooing that
served to convey both love and pity. Then be ran to the
stalwart figure that still lay on the floor, and, patting its
swarthy cheek, said something in the Cree tongue that Phil
did not understand.
'A FLYING-FISH-CATCHER FHOM OLD HONG-KONTG-YO I1U! I1OLI, A MAN DO\VN !
601
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
After that Phil carefully closed the door to prevent the
intrusion of wild beasts, anil tin- two. whose fortunes had
become so strangely interwoven, set forth together down
the white surface of the forest-bordered stream, on whose
bank Nel-te had been born and passed his few years of
life. He was happily but unconsciously venturing on his
In-.-, i "little journey into the world," while his companion
w MS lilleil with a sense of manliness and responsibility from
the experiences through which he had. just passed that the
mere adding of years could never have brought.
I'hil wondered at the ease with which the little fellow
managed his snow-shoes, until he reflected that the child
had probably been taught to use them from the day of
taking his tirst, step. So the two fur-clad figures, ridicu-
lously contrasted in si/.e, ti inlged along side by side down
the winding stream, the one thoughtfully silent and the
other chattering of "doggies," until lie, began to lag behind
and give signs that the pace was telling on his slender
strength.
"Poor little chap, "said Phil. "But I had been expect-
ing it, and now we will try another scheme." So, slinging
the tiny snow-shoes across the child's back, he picked him
ii]i and set him astride his own broad shoulders; when
Nel-te clutched his head, and shouted with glee at this de-
lightful mode of travel.
After they had gone a mile or so in this fashion they
rounded a sharp bend, and came so suddenly upon poor
Serge, who was making his way up the stream in search of
some trace of his friend, that for a moment he stood
motionless and speechless with amazement. He could
make nothing of the approaching apparition until Phil
shouted, cheerily :
"Hurrah, old man! Here we are, safe and sound, and
awfully glad to see you."
" Oh, Phil !" cried Serge, while tears actually stood in his
honest blue eyes, "I can hardly believe it! It seems al-
most too good to be true. Are you sure you are not
wounded nor frozen nor hurt in any way? Haven't you
suffered terribly? If you haven't, we have. I don't be-
lie, e Mr. Coombs slept a wink last night, aud I know I
didn't. But I am happy enough at this minute to make
up for it all, a hundred times over. Oh, Phil!"
"I have suffered a little from anxiety, aud been a tritle
hungry, and had some sad experiences, but I haven't suf-
fered half so much as I deserved for my carelessness in
getting lost. I found Cree Jim, though ; but — "
"And brought him with you?" interrupted Serge, suiil-
iug for the first time iu many hours, as he glanced at the
quaint little figure perched on Phil's shoulders.
"Not exactly," replied the other, soberly. " You see this
little chap is his son, and I've adopted him for a sort of a
brother, aud he is going with us."
" You've done what ?" cried Serge.
"Adopted him. That is, jou see I promised my aunt
Kuth to bring her something from Alaska that was unique
in the way of a curio, and it seems to me that Nel-te here
will please her about as well as anything. Don't you think
"Perhaps so," assented Serge, doubtfully. " But was his
1. 1 1 her willing that you should have him?"
" Oh yes, perfect 1\ . That is, you know he is dead, and so
is the mother; but I promised her to take care of the lit.tlo
chap, and as there wasn't anything else to be done, why,
lii-re we arc."
"(if course it's all right if you say so," agreed Serge.
"and I don't care, so loug as you are safe, if you carry a
whole tribe back to your aunt Ruth; but now don't you
think we'd better be getting along to camp ? It was all I
could do to persuade Mr. Coombs to stay behind and look
out for things; lie is so anxious. The only way I could
induce him lo was by suggesting that yon might come in
tired and hungry, and would feel awfully if no one was
t hen- to \> cleome you. But he is liable to set out on a hunt
for von at any moment "
" Certainly, we must get there as quickly as possible,"
replied 1'hil. " How far is itt"
"Not more than one mile up the river from the monl h
of this creek, which is only a few rods below here. But oh,
Phil, to think that I have found you! When I had almost
given up all hope of ever again seeing you alive too. I have
been down as far as our first camp on the river this morn-
ing, and tliis creek was my last hope. I wouldn't have
left the country without you, though, or at any rate without
knowing what had become, of you. Neither would Mr.
Coombs. We settled that last night while we talked over
what had best be done."
"I was sure you wouldn't, old fellow," replied Phil, with
something like a choke iu his voice.
At the camp they were hailed by Jalap Coombs, who al-
most hugged Phil iu his revulsion of feeling and unaffected
joy at the lad's return.
"But you don't do it agaiu, Philip, my son!" he cried.
"That is, the next time you feels inclined to wander from
home and «tay out nights, ye may go, of course, but you'll
have to take me along. So ef you gits lost, I gets lost like-
wise; for, as niy old friend Kite Eoberson useter say con-
saining prodergal sons, 'It's ailers toughest on them as is
left behind.' But Phil, what be ye doing with that furry
little beggar ? Is ho the pilot ye went sarching for ?"
" Yes,'' laughed Phil, lifting Nel-te down from his shoul-
ders. "He is the pilot who is to lead us from this wilder-
ness, aud if you have got anything to eat, you'd better gi\e
it to him before he devo urs oue of the dogs, which he seems
inclined to do. I can answer for it that he has been on
short rations for several days, and is properly hungry."
"Have I got anything to eat?" cried the other. "Waal,
rather! How does fresh steaks, and roasts, and chops, aud
stews strike your fancy ?" With this he pointed to oue
side of the camp, where, to their astonishment, the boys saw
a quantity of fresh meat, much of which was already cut
into thin strips for freezing and packing.
"Where did it come from ?" queried Phil, looking at
Serge; but the latter only shook his head.
"It's jest a bit of salvage that I raked in as it went
drifting by," explained Jalap Coombs, his face beaming
with gratified pride. "It's some kind of deer-meat, and for
a deer he was pretty nigh as big as one of those elephants
back yonder in the moss cave. You see, he came cruising
along this way shortly after Serge left, and the dogs give
chase and made him heave to. When I j'ined 'em he sur-
rendered. Then I had my hands full iu a hurry, driving
oft' the dogs and lashing 'em fast so as they couldn't eat
him, horns and all, and cutting of him up. I hain't uiore'n
made a beginning with him, either, for there's pretty nigh
a full cargo left.
"But how did you kill him? There wasn't any gun in
camp?" asked Phil, utterly bewildered.
" Of course there warn't no gun," answered Jalap Coombs,
"and likewise I didn't need one. Sich things I leave for
boys. How did I kill him, say you ? Why, I jest natur-
ally harpooned him like I would any other whale."
CHAl'TEK XXX.
JALAP AND THE DOGS SING A I.rt.LAUY.
"HARPOONED a moose!'' cried Phil aud Serge together;
for they had by this time discovered the nature of the
sailor's "big deer." " Aud where did you get the harpoon V
asked the former.
"Found it leaning agin a tree while I were out after
firewood," replied Jalap Coombs, at the same time produc-
ing and proudly exhibiting a heavy A-yan spear, such as
were formerly used by the natives of the Pelly Kiver
valley. "It were a trille rusty, aud a trifle light in the
butt," he added, "but it come in mighty handy when it were
most needed, and for an old whaler it are not a bad sort of
a weepou. I'm free to say, though, that I might have had
hard luck iu tackling the beast with it ef he hadn't been
already wounded. I didn't know it till after he were dead,
but when I come to cut him up. I saw where he'd been
bleeding pretty free, ami then I found this bullet in his in-
nards. Still. I don't reckin you'd have called him amouse,
nor yet a rat, if ye'd .seed him like I did under full sail,
with horns set wing and wing, showing toe speed of a fifty-
ton schooner If 1 hadn't had the hai-poou I'd left him-
severely alone ; but I allowed that a, weepou as were good!
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
enough for a whale would do for a ileer, oven ef lie were
bigger than the sun."
"It's a rifle-bullet, calibre forty-four," said Phil, who was
examining the bit of lead that Jalap Coombs had taken
from his " big deer." " I wonder if it can be possible that
he is the same moose I wounded, and without whose lead
I should never have found C'ree Jim's cabin. It seems ill-
credible that he should have come right back to camp to
be killed, though I suppose it is possible. Certainly good
fortune, or good luck, does seem to be pretty steadily on
our side, and without the aid of the fur-seal's tooth either,"
he added, with a sly glance at Serge.
As soon as breakfast was finished, Phil and Serge slipped
away, taking a sledge, to which was lashed a couple of axes,
with them. They were going back to bnry the parents of
the child, who was so happily oblivious of their errand
that he did not even take note of their departure.
The lads had no idea of how they should accomplish
their sorrowful task. Even with proper tools they knew
it would be impossible to dig a grave in the frozen ground,
and as they had only axes with which to work, this plan
was dismissed without discussion.
They had not settled on any plan when they rounded
the last bend of the little stream and gained a point from
which the cabin should have been visible. Then they saw
at a glance that the task they had been dreading had been
accomplished without their aid. There was no cabin, but
a cloud of smoke rising from its site, as from an altar, gave
ample evidence of its fate. A blazing log from the fire
Phil left in its hearth must have rolled out on to the floor
directly after his departure. Now only a heap of ashes
and glowing embers remained to mark Nel-te's home.
"It is best so," said Phil, as the two lads stood beside
the smouldering ruins of what had been a home and was
now become a sepulchre. "And oh, Serge! think what
might have been the child's fate if I had left him behind,
as I at first intended. Poor little chap! I realize now, as
never before, how completely his past is wiped out and
how entirely his future lii-s in our hands. It is a trust
that came without our seeking, but I accepted it; and now
beside his mother's ashes I swear to bo true to the promise
I gave her."
" Amen !" said Serge, softly.
They planted a rude wooden cross, the face of which was
chipped to a gleaming whiteness, close in front of the
smouldering heap, and near it Serge fastened a streamer
of white cloth to the tip of a tall yonng spruce. Cutting
off the limbs as he descended, he left it a slender pole, and
thus provided the native symbol of a place of burial.
As they approached the camp they were astonished to
hear Jalap Coombs singing in bellowing tones the rollick-
ing old sea chant of" Roll a Man Down!"
'• A flying-fish-catcher from old Hong-Kong —
Yo ho ! roll a man down —
A flying-fish-catcher comes bowling along ;
Give us some time to roll a man down,
Roll a man up and roll a man down,
Give us some time to roll a man down.
From labhord to stabbord away we go —
Yo ho! roll a man down."
Jalap's voice was not musical, but it possessed a mighty
volume, and as the quaint sea chorus roared and echoed
through the stately forest, the very trees appeared to be
listening in silent wonder to the unaccustomed sounds.
Even Musky, Luvtuk, big Amook, and the other dogs
seemed by their dismal bowlings to be expressing either
appreciation or disapprobation of the sailor-man's efforts.
The performers in this open-air concert were too deeply
intent on their own affairs to pay any heed to the approach
of the returning sledge party, who were thus enabled to
come within full view of a most extraordinary scene un-
noticed. Just beyond the camp, in a semicircle, facing the
fire, a dozen dogs, resting on their haunches, lifted both
their voices and sharp-pointed noses to the sky. On the
opposite side of the fire sat Jalap Coombs holding Xel-te in
his arms, rocking him to and fro in time to the chorus that
he was pouring forth with the full power of his lungs, and
utterly oblivious to everything save his own unusual oc-
cupation of putting a baby to sleep.
"Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho!" roared Phil and Serge, unable
to restrain their mirth a moment longer. "Oh my! Oh
my! Oh, Mr. Coombs, you'll be the death of me yet! What
ever are you doing? Didn't know you could sing! What
a capital nurse you make ! What a soft voice for lullabies!
The dogs, too! Oh dear! I shall laugh at the thought
of this if I live to be a hundred! Don't mind us, though.
Keep right on. Please do!"
But the concert was ended. Jalap Coombs sprang to
his feet with a startled yell, and dropped the child, who
screamed with the fright of his sudden awakening. The
dogs, whose harmonious bowlings were so abruptly inter-
rupted, slunk away with tails between their legs, and hid
themselves in deepest shadows.
"There, there, little chap. Don't be frightened," cried
Phil, darting forward and picking up the child, though still
shaking with laughter. "It's all right now. Brother
Phil will protect you, and not let the big man frighten you
any more."
"I frighten him indeed!" retorted Jalap Coombs, indig-
nantly. "He was sleeping quiet and peaceful as a seal
pup; and I were just humming a bit of a ditty that useter
be sung to me when I were a kid, so's he'd have something
pleasant to dream about. Then you young swabs had to
come creeping up and yell like a couple of wild hoodoos,
and set the dogs to howling and scare the kid, to say no-
thing of me, which ef I had ye aboard ship I'd masthead ye
both till ye larnt manners. Oh, ye may snicker! But I
have my opinion all the same of any man as '11 wake a
sleeping child, specially when he's wore out with crying,
all on account of being desarted. And I'm not the only
one nuther. There was old Kite Eolierson who useter clap a
muzzle onto his wife's canary whenever she'd get the kids
to sleep, for fear the critter'd bust inter singing. But it's
all right. You will know how it is yourselves some
clay."
Phil, seeing that, for the first time since he had known
him, the mate was thoroughly indignant, set out to smooth
his ruffled feelings.
" Why, Mr. Coombs," he said, " we didn't mean to startle
you, but those wretched dogs kept up such a howling that
we couldn't make ourselves heard as we neared camp. I'm
sure I don't see how you could think we were laughing at
you. It was those absurd dogs, and you'd have laughed
yourself if you'd looked up and seen them. I'm sure it was
awfully good of you to take so much trouble over this little
fellow, and put him so nicely to sleep with your sing — I
mean with your humming, though I assure you we didn't
hear a hum."
" Waal," replied Jalap Coombs, greatly mollified by Phil's
attitude. "I warn't humming very loud, not nigh go loud
as I had been at fust. Ye see, I were kinder tapering off so
as to lay the kid down, and begin to get supper 'gainst you
kim back.'1
"Yes, I see," said Phil, almost choking with suppressed
laughter. "But how did it happen that you were com-
pelled to act as nurse ? The little chap seemed happy
enough when we went away."
"So he were, till he found you was gone. Then he be-
gun to pipe his eye and set storm signals, and directly it
come on to blow a hurricane with heavy squalls. So I had
to stand by. Fust oft' I thought the masts would surely
go ; but I took a reef here and there, and kinder got things
snugged down, till after a whilt the sky broke, the sun kim
out, and fair weather sot in once more."
"Well, "said Phil, admiringly, "you certainly acted with
the judgment of an A No. 1 seaman, and I don't believe
even your esteemed friend Captain Robinson could have
done better. We shall call on you whenever our little pilot
gets into troubled waters again, and feel that we are pla-
cing him in the best possible hands."
At which praise Jalap Coombs was greatly pleased, and
said as how he'd be proud at all times to stand by the kid.
Thus on the same day that little Nel-te McLcod lost his
parents he found a brother and two stanch friends.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
603
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
UNCLE SAM AS A STAMP-MAKER.
BY FRANCES BENJAMIN JOHNSTON.
ERE. boys, is a piece- of legislation which will add :i
new series of stamps to your collections," said Mr.
Cop. 'land, as hi- glanced up from his morning paper. " The
bill transferring the printing of stamps to the Bureau of
Engraving and Printing has .just become a law, and liore-
aftcr 1'nele Sam will inaiiiifacture his own stamps, as \\.ll
as liis own paper money ."
•• \Vliy. father, if they make them here, we can see just
how it's done!" exclaimed Donald, tin- eldest of the Cope-
land boys, who, with his brothers Jack and Ezra, was now
experiencing the severest stage of the "stamp fever."
-Hull!" granted the hitter — nicknamed "The Parson,"
from his o Id-fashioned ways and a solemn assumption of
wisdom. "Perhaps they'll not let you know anything at
all aliont it. Bobby Simonds told me that the big company
in New York that has always made 'em is awful particular
about letting people see their machinery and things; and
Hobby ought to know 'cause his uncle's an engraver there."
"Are they goiug to make all the stamps here in Wash-
ington ?" broke in May, the baby of the family. " Tliat 'II
be nice for you boys, 'cause you can get 'em cheaper at the
factory, can't you?"
"That's just like a girl," laughed Jack. "Anybody would
think they were going to sell stamps by the yard."
" Well, my boy," said Mr. Copeland, " your sister is right,
in a sense, as under this act the Post-office Department will
buy its stamps wholesale from the Bureau of Engraving
and Printing, at a nominal price per thousand, without
reference to their face value. I think you also are mis-
taken. Parson, as the public will doubtless be as free to in-
spect the manufacture of stamps as they now are to see the
process of bank-note-making. When the stamp-printing
plant is established, there should be a great deal in it to
interest you youngsters. What do yon say to a tour of in-
vestigation some Saturday?"
Their father's suggestion delighted the children, who
waited eagerly for the fulfilment of the promise.
This came on a bright October morning, when the little
party climbed the hill beyond the towering Washington
Monument, and reached the griin brick building which is
known as the Bureau of Engraving and Printing.
Here they were shown into a small reception-room, and
kept waiting, with a throng of other sight- seers, until
a card from the chief procured for them a special guide
through the building. As she led them through a long
corridor, this lady explained something of the complete and
ingenious system which is in force here to prevent fraud or
loss to the government. No visitor is permitted inside the
IN THE DRYING-ROOM.
TAKING SHEETS OFF THE PRESSES.
building without one of the guides especially detailed for
this service, while the work of each of the hundreds of em-
ployed is so carefully checked and recorded that even the
most insignificant error is readily traceable. Ink, paper,
the engravers' dies, the printers' plates, are all given out
on properly signed receipts, and until all are accounted
for, even to the tiniest scrap of paper, the employes who
have handled them are not permitted to leave the build-
ing ; so that ouly by a widespread plot could all these safe-
guards be successfully eluded.
The little party was now shown into a very long room,
at one end of which was ranged a row of compartments
like sentry-boxes. In each of these sat a silent engraver,
bent over the small square of steel upon which he was cut-
ting some part of the design for paper money or stamps.
The plates from which the stamps were formerly printed
are the property of the government, so that the old de-
signs, with a slight modification, are still in use. This
modification consists of a trefoil mark placed in the upper
corner of the new stamps, which will serve
to distinguish them from the old issues
printed by the American Bank-note Com-
pany. The work of the engravers is ne-
cessarily so painstaking and slow that
the original dies are considered too ex-
pensive to use in the printing-presses.
Thus, after the engraver has completed
a die, it is subjected to a hardening pro-
cess, and the design multiplied indefi-
nitely upon soft steel plates by what is
known as the transfer-press. The chil-
dren were shown a long row of these
presses, as well as the great vaults where
all the designs, dies, and plates are lock-
ed up after the day's work. From the
silence of the engravers' department they
were led into the din and clatter of the
press-room below. Here they found the
ne\\ ^t<, •mi-presses as well as old-fashion-
ed hand-presses in operation, and were
able to see every detail of the actual
printing of stamps.
The baud-presses are worked by a plate-
printer and one assistant, the printer first
inking and polishing the eugraved plate
over a series of small gas -jets, after
<!04
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
which if is placed on tlie
press. His assistant now
lays a dampened sheet of
paper upon the plate, the
printer gives the press a
turn, and a sheet of bright
new stamps is drawii out
;it the other side. This
work is done quickly and
accurately, but it is a very
slow process compared A\ ith
that of the steam-presses,
which turn out sheets of
four hundred stamps each
at the rate of one hundred
thousand stamps an hour.
The steam - presses carry
four plates on an endless
chain around the sides of a
large square, in the circuit
of which the plates are au-
tomatically heated to the
proper temperature, inked,
wiped off, and printed. The
blank paper is laid on the
plates by one assistant, while a second helper takes out the
printed sheet. The printer in charge of the press has the
most difficult part of the work, which consists in polishing
the plate with his bare palms after it has been mechani-
cally inked. This must bo done so delicately as to leave
neither too much nor too little ink upon the plate, but only
just enough to give a clean, fine impression.
The presses clattered and clanked, and the children
watched with breathless interest while a great stack of
the dampened paper disappeared rapidly, sheet by sheet,
MIXING THE GLUE.
THE ENGRAVING-ROOM.
through the press, reappearing again to be stacked in a
second neat pile in the form of thousands upon thousands
of new red two-cent stamps.
Besides the ordinary issues, the young investigators were
much interested in seeing the printing of revenue stamps,
of the long-strip stamps for cigar-boxes, and other tobacco
stamps, and particularly the new two-cent stamps for play-
ing-cards.
Having watched to their entire satisfaction the various
movements of the great presses, the children began to feel
that the object of their visit had been
realized, and that there was nothing more
to see. They were therefore somewhat
surprised to learn that tike printing of the
stamps is merely the beginning of the
work upon them, and that a number of
very important things must happen to
these small squares of red, blue, brown,
and purple before they are ready to be
sold through the little window in the
post-office. After they are printed the
sheets must be dried and pressed out,
gummed, dried and pressed again, the
sheets perforated and cut apart, trimmed,
and, in addition, carefully counted before
and after each of these operations.
In the early days of postage-stamps,
and for several years after they first came
into use, two serious difficulties present-
ed themselves — i.e., the gumming and
separating of the stamps. For a time a
thick muddy mucilage was used, which
curled up the sheets in a very inconven-
ient way. Then, again, before the ingen-
ious device of perforation was hit upon, it
was necessary to cut the stamps apart
with a pair of scissors. Imagine a post-
master in these busy days supplying his
customers by the scissors method!
Fortunately a clever Frenchman con-
ceived the plan of punching a series of
small holes between the stamps, and his
invention was promptly introduced into
this country. The children were now-
eager to see the finishing processes of
stamp-making, and so followed their guide
into a large room, where they were gren -
ed by a rush of warm air. Here their
guide showed them the method of gum-
ming the stamps and the curious ap-
paratus used for the purpose. Along the
entire length of the room, with a narrow
passage between, are ranged a series of
603
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
•wooden boxes, quite sixty feet iii length. These are heated
by steam, and through each box passes a sent of double end
less chaiu. The sheets are fed, lace down, into this queer
machine, and passed under a roller, which allows the escape
of just, enough gum to coat the sheet thinly and evenly.
The sheet is now caught on the endless chain by two auto-
matic; clamps, and carried into the long hot-box. It takes
only a lew m cuts lor the journey through, but the sheets
appear at the other end perfectly dried, and ready to be
trimmed and perforated.
As the method of gumming stamps used by the various
bank-note companies has been a carefully guarded and
secret process, the Hurcau of Engraving and Printing has
been forced to invent its own machine for this purpose.
The sheets are gummed at the rate of about eighteen a
minute, which is certainly a vast improvement over the old
method of putting on the gum by hand with a brush.
When the children were weary of watching the funny
little brass fingers move along and hurry the sheets off
into the hot-box, they turned to a corner where a workman
was busy over a series of vats and buckets mixing the
gum, which looked very clean and nice, and is made of
dextrine, a vegetable product. The guide now showed
them how the gummed sheets are pressed smooth for per-
foration, and then led them into a room where a score or
mole of odd little machines were in swift operation. Each
machine is tended by two workwomen, most of whom wear
fantastic caps of paper to shade their eyes, as the sheets
must be fed into the machines with absolute accuracy in
order that the perforations shall come in the right place.
Each sheet has register lines printed in the margin, which
must be adjusted exactly under a black thread fastened
across the feeding-table. A quick whir of the wheels puts
a neat line of pin-holes lengthwise between the stamps,
cutting the sheet in half at the same time. The next ma-
chine perforates the sheet crosswise, and again cuts it in
two, so that lhi> sheets are now divided np into the regula-
tion size of one hundred stamps each.
The children thought the minute disks of paper punched
out by the perforators too insignificant to be considered,
and were accordingly much surprised to learn that the
sheets again have to be smoothed out, under great press-
ure, to reduce their bulk and remove the "burr" caused
by the perforation.
After inspecting the final process of making np the
stamps into packages, to be mailed to the postmasters all
o\er the country, the. children were taken by their father
to the office of the chief of the bureau. Here they re-
ceived a cordial welcome, and learned many interesting and
curious details about stamps and stamp-making. About
3,000.(UJ(i.l HNI stamps are annually furnished the Post-office
Department by the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, at
the rate of five cents a thousand. Ninety per cent, of
tin -e are the two-cent stamps, and according to the last
Post-office report the revenue from the sale of stamps is a
little over stJ.000,000 a month.
" By-the-way,'' observed the chief, "you young people
should be very much interested in the Report of the Third
Assistant Postmaster-General for 1893, which contains a
carefully prepared and elaborately descriptive list of every
stamp and postal card issued by the United States govern-
ment. ]| must seem hard to yon stamp collectors that the
most beautiful stamps issued — the newspaper and periodi-
cal stamps — are not permitted to be sold to the public.
One of the chief reasons for this is that the values of these
.small squares of paper run up to such high figures, viz.,
"-.'I. s36, §48, and $60, that they would offer a great field
to counterfeiters if generally circulated. There are some
queer denominations among these stamps, notably the $1 92
stamp, which is about to be discontinued, and some very
pretty colors. That reminds me — did they show you our
ink-mills in your tour of inspection?"
Mr. I'opeland explained that they had not seen the mills,
so the children had the pleasure of being escorted by the
chief himself into the grimy region which is seldom pene-
trated l.v the public. Here they saw the colors ground
and mixed in .small mills, from which the workmen — smear-
•ed from top to toe in a rainbow of colors — gathered the
thick greasy ink by the bucketful. About one hundred
thousand pounds of dry color is used annually for the two-
cent stamps alone, the color being mixed with an equal
quantity of burnt linseed oil, making two hundred thou-
sand pounds of ink. Of course a large percentage of this
color is lost in inking and polishing the plate.
The tour was now ended, and leaving the oily little
wheels to their ceaseless grinding, the children, with a
grateful good-by to their new friend, went home with their
young heads full of the interesting things they had seen
in I'ncle Sam's stamp factory.
THE
UDDING
STICK
Thia Department is conduced in the interest of Girls and Youne Women, and the Editor will
be pleased to answer any queati m on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should
adilress Editor.
GIRLS who are terrified by thunder and lightning lose
a great deal of enjoyment during the summer, when
we have storms as well as sunshine. It may not be quite
possible for every one to help being afraid when the sky is
black with clouds and the lightning's flash, but it is within
the power of most people to control the expression of fright.
Once or twice having resolutely refrained from showing
your terror, you will be surprised and pleased to find the
terror itself lessening.
I know persons who go through life in a sort of bondage
to fear of various kinds. They tremble and turn pale, or
grow hysterical and cry, when the dark clouds gather and
the thunders roll. There is a pretty German hyum which
begins,
"It thunders, but I tremble not,
My trust is firm in God,
His arm of strength I've ever sought
Through all the way I've trod."
I ADVISE ALL OF YOU who need the advice to remember that
God rules in the heavens, and His hand sends the storms.
Trust in God when you are afraid — really trust, and you
will grow calm and be happy. Another grain of comfort
may be found in the fact that when you see the bright zig-
zagging flash and hear the rumbling thunder, the danger
for you is over. You will never see or hear the electric
current which hurts or kills. It is far too swift to wait and
warn you in that way.
NY OF us have some pet aversion, which goes far to
make us cowards in one direction, even if in other condi-
tions and situations we are brave. I have seen women al-
most faint at the sight of a poor little scurrying mouse, and
have heard others scream at a bat or a beetle. I confess
to a very great dislike OH my own part to things with wings
and with stings, especially those which fly in at the window
when the lamp is lighted, and buzz and fizz and snap and
pounce and bounce. But I would be ashamed of myself if
I could not keep from shrieking in the presence of these
innocent little marauders. Depend upon it, girls, we can
display a cool front and wear a brave face if we choose to
do so, let what happen. It is all a question of will.
NUMBERS OF TRAVELLERS never get the full meed of plea-
sure when on a journey because they carry too great a load
of care. They fancy that this or that will happen. They are
distressed because of accidents which may possibly occur.
They make the friends with them uncomfortable because
they suggest dreadfully unpleasant catastrophes as just
around the corner. When you think of it, this behavior is
both stupid and silly. Trains and boats are in the hands,
as a rule, of competent and responsible persons, who wish
to take their passengers and freight safe to the journey's
end. You, being neither captain, nor engineer. nor conduc-
tor, are called upon to feel no concern in the matter.
COG
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
I WISH I COULD I.MPUESS on every young girl the beauty
and dignity of simple, quiet courage. Not recklessness,
nor indifference to danger, but a geutle acceptance of every
situation, and a rising above fear. Fear is the feeling of a
slave. It fetters one's mind, and makes one's body clumsy
and awkward. The Bible says, " Fear hath torment.'' It
is usually ignoble, not the appropriate sentiment for bright,
capable, kind-hearted, and winning gii-ls like you. Resolve
to put fear under your feet, and walk through the world
with hearts superior to it iu its every form and phase.
*
collectors should trim the edges of any stamps they may
have. Next week we will illustrate the scale of regular
perforations.
THE SO-CALLED ernir of the 5c. red-brown V. S. 1890 issue
in the color of the 4c. dark brown has been demonstrated
to be a chungeling, by a very simple chemical test. The
dealer who ottered these stamps for sale at $30 each lias
notified the thirty-seven, people who bought copies at that
price that their money will be returned on demand.
I would advise all collectors to keep all the different
shades of the U. S. stamps which they get at little or no
expense, but to avoid paying any extra for shades of cur-
rent or late stamps.
A PKNKOSK SCUT.T..— The common stamps of the U. S. are worth about
$50 to $100 per million it in good condition. The lOc. blown is quoted
at lOc.
BIM:KPKIN — This is not the place to quote arguments in favor of stnmp-
collcctinj:. Most boys, and many men, find great pleasure in this pursuit.
Ask one of them to tell you of its pleasures.
H. W.— There are two varieties of Baltimore and Ohio Telegraph
stamps. One is worth $2 each, the regular perforated are worth 65c per
set.
AiiTiirn L. EVANS —The lOc. green is worth 6r. The 6c. and 8c. Co-
lumbians can still be bought at face in many post-office's.
PHILATUS.
This Department is conducted in the interest of Stamp anil Coin Collectors, and the Editor
will be pleased to answer any question on these sut'jeclfi so far as possible. Correspondents
should address Editor Stamp Department.
uuuuuuuuuuuuu Regular perforations: holes punched out.
Rouletted : lines cut in.
Pin perforated: pinholes.
/YVYVYVYYYYVYYYW Rouletted en arc : curved lines cut in.
/vwi/vvvwvwi/vv\ Rouletted CH sc<<> : saw-tooth lines cut in.
yj
Rouletted en
- : funcy lines cut in.
Rouletted en points : diagonal lines cut in.
V v \/ s/ v v Rouletted en lomngf : diagonal cuts not joiued.
Rouletted in naif squares : lines cut in.
ONE OF THE FliiST REQUISITES of any science is to know
its terms. Stamp-collecting is now not only a hobby,
but an exact science as well.
Former!}' little uote was taken of the condition of stamps,
but to-day the smallest details are important. Yon have
doubtless noticed that almost all stamps issued during the
past thirty years have "scalloped" edges. These are
perforatious made to enable persons using stamps to de-
tach one or more without using scissors. Previous to
1856 all stamps were printed on sheets of paper, and had
to be cut off one by one with a knife or scissors. These
are known as "uuperforated." Many experiments were
made to do away with the necessity of using scissors, and
we illustrate the different methods used. Gradually all
nations have adopted the '• regular " perforations, which
consist of a series of holes punched out along all four
edges of each stamp. Now this difference between per-
forated and nnperforated stamps makes licit a little differ-
ence in the prices asked. For instance, the 24c. U.S. of
1851 uuperforated would be cheap at $100, whereas the
same stamp perforated is worth $2 50 only. The Victoria,
twopenny of 1807 is worth SI 50 perforated, while $25 is
asked for the unperforated. So none of the I!ot:xi> TAIJI.E
SCHOOL-BOY'S SONG OE THE SCHOOL
WEEK.
ON Monday black, at four o'clock,
The key is turned iu the school-room lock,
And I've given old Time a terrible knock,
For the head of the Week is broken.
At four of a Tuesday afternoon,
The hour that cometh none too soon,
I strap my books to a merry tune.
For the neck of the Week is broken.
As the four glad strokes on Wednesday ring,
My cap in the air I gayly fling.
And homeward run as I loudly sing.
"The grip of the Week is broken."
Ah, welcome the sound of the Thursday's four,
And tin- joyous thought of " but one day more
That opens and shuts the school-room door,"
For the back of the WTeek is broken.
But sweeter than story iu prose or rhyme
The musical notes of the Friday chime,
For the Week lies dead in the arms of Time.
And the school-boy's chains are broken.
L. H. BurCE.
KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS.
II. — THE SWORD.
"OW while the lords and their followers were gath-
ered iu the great church," the Story-teller said. as.
Jack and Mollie begau to show some curiosity as to what
this miracle for which Merlin hoped might be, "there \\as
discovered iu the church-yard near the altar a great black
stone, about four feet square, on the middle of which stood
a steel auvil a foot iu height. Thrust iuto this, with its
shining point visible, was a beautiful sword, and about, it,
written in letters of gold, were these words :
"'WHOSO PULLETH OUT THIS SWORD OF THIS STONE AND
ANVIL IS RIGHTWISE KING BORN OF ENGLAND.1 "
"Who put it there ?" asked Jack.
"I dou't kuow," said the Story-teller. "It was there,
and that is all I kuow about it, and the people when they
saw it were full of wonder, and marvelled greatly to read
the words written about it. I imagine, however, that Mer-
lin and the Archbishop had something to do with it, for
when the people went into the church, and told the Arch-
bishop what they had seen, he did not appear to be at all
GOT
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE K1GI1TFI L KING OF ENGLAND.
sin-prised, but cuinmaiuled all to remain within the church
anil not to touch the a word until the service was over.
The people and the gathered knights and all their follow-
ers obe\ ed the Archbishop's command, for they did not dare
tlo otherwise: lint when the service was over, they all
rushed out into the church-yard to see the stone and the
anvil, with the w lerful sword stuck into it. And then,
when the lords hail read the Bidden inscription upon the
.stone, each made an cll'orl to pull the sword out of its an-
vil-sheath, 'nil not inie ol'them could do it. They pulled
and tilled and pulled and tugged, hut it was all in vain.
They neither broke nor budded it, and the Archbishop of
Canterbury said it was evident that mine of those present
eould elaim to lie the. rightful King. He added that he
believed that the right one would yet be discovered, and
.suggested that ti'n of the best knights of the land should
be made a guard of honor to wateh over tlie sword until
New-Year's day. w hen any one who wished might come and
in the presence nf all make the eft'ort to pull it from the
anvil. This was agreed to. anil it was decided to have a
great tournament upon I lie1 coming New-Year's day, after
which the trial should be made. This kept the knights
.and their followers in London, for it was important that
all should be present at the trial, success ra which meant
.so much, mil onl\ to the siieee.ssful man, but to the whole
kingdom as well."
•• Didn't Merlin try to pull it out?" asked Mollie. "If he
put it in, 1 should think he could have pulled it out, and
.then he could have been King himself."
"Possibly; but I imagine he didn't
want to be King, for one thing, and, for an-
other, he hail been too good a friend to
Arthur, and to Uther. his father, to wish to
betray them. The Chronicles do not say
whether he tried it or not, but if he did, he
failed; and so the week between Christ-
mas and New-Year's went by without any
oue's having moved the sword ; and the
lords made their preparations for the tour-
nament, and many of them, I have uo
doubt, spent a great deal of their time get-
ting their muscle up in the hope of win-
ning the crown.
"On the New-Year's day all again as-
sembled in the church, and, after the ser-
vice, proceeded to the field where the tour-
nament was to take place. Sir Ector, fol-
lowed by his son, Sir Kaye, who had him-
self been made a knight, and Arthur, rode
with them, when it was discovered that
Sir Kaye had left his sword behind him at
bis father's lodging. Summoning Arthur,
he requested him to return to the house
and get it for him. This Arthur readily
consented to do, for he was fond of Kaye,
whom, as we have already seen, he sup-
posed to be his own brother. Turning
his horse about, he rode full speed back
to the lodgings ; but when he arrived
there he found everyone had gone to the
tournament, and he could not find his
foster-brother's sword. For a moment he
was perplexed. He knew it would never
do for Sir Kaye to be found at a tour-
nament without his sword, for the sword
was the sign of his knighthood, and a
knight who had lost it would have been
considered unworthy of the honor which
had been bestowed upon him. Suddenly
Arthur bethought him of the sword in
the anvil, and without much hope that
he should succeed where so many others
had failed, he resolved to make the effort
to loosen it anyhow, and in case of suc-
cess to carry it to Sir Kaye.
"So he rode to the church-yard, and
found it as deserted as Sir Ector's lodg-
ings had been. The ten knights who
had been left to guard the sword, like every one else in
London, had gone to the tournament. Dismounting from
his horse, Arthur strode into the yard, and grasping the
handle of the sword as firmly as he conld, pulled at it
fiercely, when, to his surprise and delight, it came out of
the anvil. Without stopping to think of all that this
meant for him, he remounted his steed, and rode hastily
back to Sir Kaye, to whom he handed the weapon.
" The instant Sir Kaye looked at it he knew it to be the
sword of the stone, and putting his spurs to his horse, he
dashed to where his father stood, and, showing him the
glittering blade, told him that it was the sword of the
stone, and said,
" ' 1 must be King of this land!'
"lint Sir Ector was cautions, so he questioned Kaye
closely as to how he had come by the weapon, and he made
him go with him and Arthur back to the church and swear
to what he said ; and Sir Kaye told him the whole story —
how he had left his own sword at home and had scut Ar-
thur back for it; how Arthur had gone there, and not find-
ing any one, had bethought him of the sword in the anvil,
and had taken it. though no one had witnessed the act.
" Whereupon Sir Ector made Arthur return the sword to
the anvil, and himself tried to pull it out, but it would not
come; and then he made Sir Kaye try it, and still it would
not come; and then bidding Arthur make an effort, the boy
did so. and it came out easily, at which both Sir Kaye and
his father knelt before Arthur, and hailed him as the mail
who should be rightful King of England."
608
INTERSCHOIIASTIC
l*J"ITH THE NEW ENGLAND INTERSCHOLASTIC games next
VV Saturday the seasou of track and field athletics — as
far as school leagues are concerned — will practically come
to a close. The season has been a most successful one.
Records have been broken on every hand, eveu iii events
where it was supposed that many a year must go by before
that performance could be bettered. This excellent show-
ing is the natural result of the hard training and constant
energy 'of the hundreds of runners and jumpers in the
schools; aud the ever-increasing number of contestants all
over the country proves that track and field sports have
secured a firm foothold, and now deserve to be recognized
as equal in importance to both football and baseball. In
the vicinity of New York, at least, there are fully twice as
many who indulge in track athletics as there are baseball
and football players. In other regions I think the pro-
portions are more nearly equal. The growth of these
sports has been very rapid. In almost every centre there
is an Interscholastic Association or League, aud the daily
newspapers, not only of the East but of the West, have
been printing reports of scholastic meets for the past two
mouths. The work of the school athletes has decidedly
become a factor in amateur sport. In some of the school
leagues there are better men than the colleges can boast of.
THE ANNUAL MEETING of the Inter-collegiate Athletic
Association at the Berkeley Oval, usually characterized as
the " Mott Haven games," because they were first held at
Mott Haven, brings together the best college athletic talent
from all parts of this broad country. This year a team from
the University of California travelled three thousand miles
overland to contest for the championship on that day.
Besides them, an unknown runner with a rapid gait and a
queer cap came out of the West, and left the crack sprint-
ers of the East straining and striving behind him, while he,
with a broad smile, pocketed two gold medals, and carried
them back to Iowa. I don't believe there was ever any
better sport at Olympia, and if the colleges can be so suc-
cessful in these things, aud can draw men to compete at
these games from every point of the compass, why should
not the schools follow their example, and form one great
Interscholastic Association, and have a big meeting once a
year? There is no reason why they should not. 1 can
think of hardly a single obstacle in the way of the forma-
tion of such a league. All that is needed is that some en-
ergetic individual or individuals, or some enthusiastic and
sporting spirited Athletic Association take the matter in
baud and put it through. Once started, the routine of or-
ganization would roll along as if on wheels.
IT is NOT NECESSARY that every school in the country
should be asked to join at the outset. On the contrary, I
would suggest that the greater Association under discus-
sion be made up of the various I.S.A.A.'s now existing, and
that the big aunual games be a contest among the winners
of the annual games of the individual associations. This
scheme commends itself, because only the best men from
every locality could compete at the meeting, and the num-
ber of entries could in that manner be limited. We have
all had experience with a superfluity of contestants, and
we know what interminable trial heats mean. If the move-
ment to form a general luterscbolastic Association should
be started in New York, there would be no lack of leagues
already in good standing to call upon for membership.
There are the New York and the Long Island I.S.A.A.'s
right here. Near by we have the New England I.S.A.A.,
the Western Massachusetts I.S.A. A., the Maine I.S.A.A., the
Connecticut I.S.A.A., the Pennsylvania Inter-academic A.A.,
the Dartmouth I.S.A.A., and the New York State I.S.A.A.
of Syracuse. In addition to these there are many others
that I need not mention here. A large and influential
league in the West is the Academic Athletic League of the
Pacific Coast, of whose prowess on track and field I have
had occasion to speak of many times in this Department.
OF COURSE, ONE OF THE FIRST QUESTIONS that would
arise upon the organization of such an Intel-scholastic As-
sociation would be, Where shall the annual meeting be
held? The answer to that is simply, Hold it where it will
be most convenient for the greatest number of schools in-
terested. It would not be advisable to hold the meeting
in a different city each year, for the Portland aud Baugor
athletes would not care to journey to Philadelphia, neither
would the Pennsylvanians care to travel up into Maine.
New York is a central location, but in many respects it
would be a poor place for a meeting of the kind under con-
sideration. The ideal spot, to my mind, would be New
Haven. This for two reasons principally. It is half-way
between Boston and Philadelphia, which are the centres of
the New England and Pennsylvania districts; and it is
also about equally distant from New York and Hartford,
which are the homes of the N.Y. & L.I.I.S.A.A's., and the
Connecticut I.S.A.A. The second good reason is that Yale
University is situated at New Haven, and I have no doubt
that the authorities of college athletics there would only
be too happy to oifer the use of the Yale field, and to do
considerable work toward the management of the games.
EVEN IF THE COLLEGE MEN felt that they could not de-
vote their time to the management of an luterscholastie
meeting — which I greatly doubt, for it would be to their
interest to do so — there are three large schools in New
Haven, members of the Connecticut I.S.A.A., which would
certainly see that business committees were appointed, aud
competent men set to work for the successful carrying out
of the enterprise. But I believe the athletic authorities of
Y'ale would be so glad of the opportunity to help and assist
the school athletes that they would even go so far as to
offer a cup to be contested for.
BUT I HAVE RUN a little ahead of my subject. What we
are all most interested in now is the first step; the rest can
easily be arranged afterward. It is too late to think of
F. Mnnson. Albert Monler. S. E. Gunnia<
E. II. Jewell. H. Ron.
. H. Simpson. J. Beasley.
r (Capt.). M. Forney.
ej. A. Opp. A. Topping.
ADELPHI ACADEMY TRACK-ATHLETIC TEAM.
Champions of the L.I.I.S.A.A., 1895.
609
HAKPEK'S BOUND TABLE
PENNSYLVANIA I.A.L. GAMES, FRANKLIN FIELD, PHILADELPHIA, JUNE 1, 1S95.
Event.
\VllLl . 1 -
Perf,»n»Dce.
2J— 3 points.
3d—] [".int.
\l ,,!,<-
.1 -. f'.c.1.
Branson, P.O.
(illL'e. II.
Whetstone, De L.
Jones, P.C.
I!| :III-MII, P.r.
,1 H, P.C
1C 4-5 sec.
183-5 "
2m. 17 1-2 "
3 " 7
582-5 "
294-5 "
24 3-5 "
5 " 23 "
4 " 5 "
5 ft. 2 1-2 in.
19 " 7
33 " 4 1-2 "
-9 " 7 "
9 " 2 1-2 "
Hnnsberger, P.C.
C'oit, C.
Thackara, G.
. De L.
Lambertsou, C.
Borer, P.C.
HnnstnTL'cr. I1.*'.
Guernsey, P.C.
Shearer, P.C.
Newhold, De I,.
Eorer, P.C.
Farr, De L.
Branson, P.C.
Borer, P.C.
Bailey, P.C.
Remington, De L.
Fan-, De L.
Beverlin, De L.
McCarty, G.
Coit, G.
•Beasluy, G.
Gage, H.
Sutton, H.
Remington, De L.
Johnson, G.
Sayen, H.
Rorer, P.C.
( Flavell, G. .
'( Branson, P.C.
Penn Charter r,7 '• •
De Lancey . 23 "
i ie! niantow n 17^
Chfltcnlian . s
llavi-rtord. . in
Adelphi .... 0
Episcopal . . o
Total 126
\
•^ii-vanl ihisli ...
Tharka i. i.
Lippincott. De L.
KM ,. ]' C.
T.ransoii, P.C.
Wai'- -
Flavell, G.
Hanson, P.C.
Running broad jump
Standing broad jump
NOTE.— P.C. , Penn Charter School; G. , Germantown Academy; De L., De Lancey School; C., Cheltenham Military Academy;
II., Haverford Grammar School; E., Episcopal Academy.
holding a general Interscholastic meeting this spring, but
it is none too early to begin to think of holding om- next
year. Preparations for such an important event require
much time. If there is anything that HAI:I'KI:'S HOUND
TABLE cau do to further the success of the plan, or if there
is any work that I cau perform in my small way toward
the carrying out of any idea that may lie formulated, it
shall be iloue. I hope these few words on the subject will
appeal to the athletes of the schools, and I shall be ouly
too glad to hear from them, and, if possible, to give space to
their suggestions.
THE UNUSUAL HEAT of ten days ago interfered mightily
with the success of the Pennsylvania schools' field-day on
Franklin Field a week ago Saturday. With the thermom-
eter at H.">", and the officials so overcome with heat that
half of them did not turn up, it is uot to be wondered at
that but two records were broken. The only men who
seem to have remained unaffected by the temperature were
Jones" and Branson of the Penu Charter School, the former
taking first in the 100, 220, and 440, and the latter winning
three firsts, one second, and two thirds — a total of twenty
points. Rorer, also of Peuu Charter, came pretty close to
his schoolmates by taking one first, three seconds, and one
third. All three leave school this year. The meeting was,
therefore, a perfect walk-over for P. C., as the score by
points clearly shows, and at no time of the afternoon was
there much enthusiasm displayed. It began to rain just
before the field events were contested, and when the heavy
shower ceased the field was in no condition for jumping or
pole-vaulting. This accounts for the poor performances
in those rvcnls.
JUNKS RAN THE FINAL HEAT of the 100 in 10* sec., winning
easily, and came home twenty yards ahead of his second
man in the quarter. He was not pressed in the 220 either,
and made the poor time of 242 sec. The half-mile was one
of the most interesting races of the day. The tirst three
men kept well hunched all the way around, and Gage made
a good spurt at the finish. Branson won both the high
hurdles and the low hurdles with comparative ease, most
of his opponents appearing fagged out. In the bicycle race,
which occurred after the sh,,\\er, a bad collision, in which
one man was seriously hurt, knocked out three contestants
and spoiled the event. In the mile, Guernsey, P.O., started
a spurt within -J-Jn yards of the tape, and earned a lead of
thirty yards, but Thackara of Germautowu showed better
judgment by waiting until he reached the 100-yard mark,
when lie forged ahead and won. The half-mile walk was
very close, the jud-es being unable to decide the first three
]|| ires t,,r some time. They finally made the award in the
order given in the table. The records hrokeii were in the
shot evenl l,\ Watts. \\ ho put the ball :5V inclies beyond
the I.A.L. record of:1,:; It. 1 in., and in the pole-vault. ' The
laiter was broken by four men. Hanson and Rorer tied
for liist.aud as neither could better his jump, they tossed
ith the hick in favor of Hanson. Brans, ,n,
P.O., got third place.
IN STRONG CONTR xsT to the ease of Peun Charter's vic-
tory on Franklin Field was the sharp and exciting contest
between the Bangor and Portland High - Schools at the
Maine I.S.A.A. meeting in Jlaplewood Park, Bangor, the
same afternoon. The result was a tie, each school scoring
37 J points, and out of fifteen records on the programme
eleven were broken. Some of the best performances were
Somers's jump of 21 ft. 5 in. in the broad; Perry's pole-vault
of 9 ft. 3 in.; and the winning of the low hurdles by Ed-
wards in 28 seconds. The most exciting period of the day
was toward the close of the meeting, when Portland High
was 10 points ahead of Bangor High, aud only the hammer
and standing high jump to be decided. Portland felt al-
most sure of victory, but Godfrey and Connors of Bangor
went in and took the first, two places in the hammer, with
Wakefield of Thornton third, thus shutting Portland out
from winning any points in that event. Not only this,
but Godfrey broke the record by more than eight feet.
Then he answered to the call for the standing high jump,
clearing 4 ft. 7 in. at his first trial, and there tieing Jordan
of Portland. Both men tried to do better, but were unable
to, and third place again went to Thornton with Hidgdou.
The tie will make the record of victories count one year
for each school in the holding of the cup now in the cus-
tody of Bangor.
OF THE ELEVEN POINT-WINNERS from the Adelphi Acad-
emy, Brooklyn, at the Long Island Interscholastic Games
on May llth, six will return to school next year. These, are
Gunnison, who took three firsts in the championship games,
Mooler, Beasley, Topping, and both Forneys. Of the others,
Simpson expects to enter West Point, Opp will go to the
Columbia Law School, while Muuson,Romer, and Jewell will
go into business. The last-named will be the greatest loss
to the team, as he made almost as good a showing at Eastern
Park as Gnnuison. Nevertheless, there is plenty of good
material left in the school, and with the nucleus that re-
mains Adelphi ought to be able to build up another cham-
pion team.
THE INTERSCHOLASTIC GAMES of the New England Asso-
ciation, which are to be held on Holmes Field, Cambridge,
next Saturday, will bring together a larger number of con-
testants than have appeared at any interscholastic event
this season. The New England I.S.A.A. includes about
thirty schools, aud more than twenty will send representa-
tives to strive for the cup. While it is not so very difficult
to nness the probable winners of first place in the principal
events on the card, the general result of the day is by no
means a certainty, for the smaller schools always manage to
send one or two "dark horses" who upset the closest cal-
culations of the best judges. Nevertheless, the champion-
ship probably rests with the Worcester High-School, or
the Boston English High-School, or the Phillips Academy,
Andover. The W.H.-S. team won the in-door meeting last
March by scoring 19 points, and most of the winners of t ha t
day will compete on Holmes Field this week. Andover did
not send a full team to the iu-cloor games, and the E.H.-S.
was crippled by the absence of some of its best athletes on
that occasion, but both schools have been training their
strongest men for the past few weeks, and will surely be
well represented.
G10
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE 100- YARDS -DASH will 'be won by
Roche of W.H.-S., Clarke ofWorcestor Acad-
emy, or Dunbar of E.H.-S. These three
sprinters breasted the tape almost together
in the 40-yard dash at the winter meiTinj;.
Roche winning by a few inches only. I
consider Ferguson the surest man lor the
high hurdles, although Chase of Andover
will be close upon him. The low hurdles
will make a pretty race for Fuller, Cam-
bridge L.S., Heine, P. A., arid Seaver, Brook-
line H.-S. Fuller's success will largely de-
pend on whether he has to run the *20 flat
before he takes the hurdles. In that case
Heine and Seaver will have a slight advan-
tage. But if Fuller does run the '220 before
this, he ought to win it, with Roche aud
Duubar behind him. There will be no fast
time made in the quarter, and the race will
furnish a good opportunity for a surprise by
some unknown quantity . Fish, W. A., Carle-
ton, Milton Academy, Purtell, E. H.-S., and
Howe, W. H.-S., are about equal in ability
for that distance. Albertson, W. H.-S., and
Batchelder, R. L. S., will have a close race
in tbe half-mile, aud I have no doubt that
the record will be lowered. Cunningham
of Hopkinsou ought to be third.
IF LAING OF AXDOVKI: were not kept out
of the contest by the age limit ruling he
would, beyond any doubt, take the mile for
P. A. He ran it at the Interscholastica List
year in 4 miu. 32| sec. And so, unless Au-
dover sends down another good man, Dow
of E.H.-S. will probably win the event.
Moore of Newton H.-S. ought to take the
•walk, with Delauey of W.H.-S. second, and
Barstow of Hopkinson third. For the field
events Holt and Dole of Roxbury Latin, and
Henderson of E.H.-S., will divide the honors
in the high jump, while the broad will be
contested by Purtell, E.H.-S. and Holt,
R.L.S. The shot event will be won by
O'Brien, E.H.-S., with Jordan, W.H.-S. and
Holt, P.A., in the places. Johnson, W.A.,
should win the pole-vault, although The-
noin, R.L.S. , may push him. The hammer
rests with Seargent of Hopkinsou, Coau,
E.H.-S., or Barney, R.L.S. With so many
tnen competing from such a large number
of different schools, it is not probable that
the winning score will be much greater
than 25, and the winner of second place
ought to come close to the same figure.
THE NEW YORK INTERSCHOLASTIC Tennis
Tournament, under the auspices "f Columbia
College, had a large entry list that required
three days to be played off. The games were
all characterized by steady work rather than
by any particularly brilliant play, and the
championship was won by Waltz of the Leal
School, Plaiufield. He met Wigliam of Har-
vard School in the finals, and had a com-
paratively easy time of it, defeat ing the New-
Yorker in three straight sets — 6—1,6-2,6-4.
He will go to Newport for the big Inter-
scholastic tournament this summer, and will
meet the other school league champions,
Ware of the N. E. I. S. A. A., Sheldon of the
Connecticut I.S.A.A., aud Beamau, who won
in the Pennsylvania I.A.L. Tournament at
Princeton. I consider Ware the strongest
player of this quartet, and expect to see him
win at Newport. He will be heard from at.
the Longwood Tournament next Saturday
too.
THE PROSPECTS OF LAWREXCEYILLE be-
ing victorious over Andover in the baseball
game to-morrow have been daily increasing,
and I believe 'now that the Jersey men will
win. Andover does not seem to be able to
reduce the average of errors made in her
games so far, and her players on the left-
field side must play a sharp game if they
wish to offset Lawrenceville's good batters.
St. Mark's School, with little over a hun-
dred boys to pick a nine from, defeated the
Phillips Academy team, two weeks ago, by
the score of 6-3, and the latter suffered an-
other bad defeat from the Yale Freshmen a
few days later. St. Mark's victory was in a
considerable measure due to the effective
pitching of White, who held the Audover
men dowu to six hits. The features of the
game, besides White's work in the box,
were the catching of Drew, Andover's Cap-
tain, and the fielding of Folger. Mills, too,
made a beautiful running catch of a long
fly. I am surprised that the St. Mark's
batters were able to get seven hits oft" Green-
way, as it has been Andover's boast that
their battery is as good as any in the schools.
It is; and I surmise that Greenway had an
oft-day at Southboro. He must do better to-
morrow or Lawrenceville will have an easy
time with their Massachusetts rivals. The
Jersey players have greatly improved, the
past week, especially in team-work. They
bave won within the past fifteen days two
games from the Penuiugton Seminary's
strong team, they have defeated the Prince-
ton Freshmen, aud they got excellent prac-
tice out of their match with the Princeton
'Varsity. Audover will have the advantage
of home grounds and the crowd, but they
will need more than that to pile up the runs.
A NEW INVENTION by Professor E. W.
Scripture, of Yale, will be interesting to all
track athletes. The apparatus is one that
will measure a runner's " reaction time."
This time is that which elapses between the
moment the pistol is discharged and the
moment the sprinter starts. The brief pe-
riod between these two moments is taken
up by nature in transmitting the sound
from the ear to the brain, and the impulse
to run from the brain to the muscles of the
legs. Professor Scripture believes that the
length of reaction time is frequently an im-
portant factor, and he argues that with a
runner it must be reduced to the shortest pos-
silile limit, as one-fifth of a second counts in
a race. By experiments the inventor lias
proved to his own satisfaction that the time
which elapses between the tiring of the start-
er's pistol and the actual start of the run-
ner is long enough to influence the winning
of a race. The reaction time of a runner may
vary from one-sixth to one-third of a second.
The new invention is an arrangement bv
which a runner's reaction time may be mea-
sured to within the one-thousandth part of
a second. The starter's pistol is arranged
so tbat an electric contact is broken when
the pistol goes off. A thread is attached
to. the right foot of the runner, and this
thread breaks an olectric contact the mo-
ment he starts. The distance marked on a
cylinder by these two contacts measures
the individual's reaction time. Sport may
soon reach such a scientific stage of advance-
ment that sprinters will be handicapped
with reference to their "reaction time."
THE GRADUATE.
CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN, a celebrated actress,
was tilling an engagement at the opera-
house in B . A man in the gallery cre-
ated such a disturbance that it seriously
impeded the progress of the play, and final-
ly brought it to a standstill. Immediately
the audience, furious with auger, cried :
"Throw him over! Throw him over!"
Miss Temple stepped to the edge of the
footlights, and in a sweet aud gentle voice
exclaimed: "No, I pray yon, don't throw
him over. I beg of you, dear friends, don't
throw him over, but kill him where he is .'"
AN Irishman was on trial tor commit-
ting a burglary, and had conducted his
own case. The evidence against him was
strong, aud the judge, after summing up,
remarked, while looking at the prisoner,
that he could detect the rascal and villain
in his face. " Hold there !" shouted the pris-
oner. " I object ; that is a personal reflec-
tion."
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CATALOGU
E
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
BICYCLING
Copyright, 1895, by Harper & Brothers.
This Department is conducted lit the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will be pleased to
answer any question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain nun h val&ahle data kindly
supplied from the official maps and road-books of the League of American Wheelmen. Recog-
nizing the value of the work being done by the L A. W. the Editor will be pleased to fnrciab
subscribers with membership blanks and information so far as possible.
THE run from Brooklyn to Babylon along the south shore
of Long Island is perhaps the best bicycle run on the
Island, and is the first thirty-five miles of the famous ceutury-
run which is made every year by the Kings County Wheel-
men ; and there is no doubt that this 100-mile course along the
shore of Long Island is as easy a run as there is in the east
United States. The road is macadamized most of the way
to Babylon, and is at present finished about as far as Sea-
ford. From Seaford on to Babylon the road is a good one,,
though not all macadamized. The wheelman intending to
make this run should examine the map of Brooklyn pub-
lished in last week's ROUND TABLE. He will there find the
way to get from his residence, whether in Brooklyn or New
York, to Prospect Park. Starting from Prospect Park, rnu
up the Boulevard to Liberty Avenue at East New York,
and, turning right into this, continue thence to Woodhaven-
At Woodhaveu take the left-hand fork and run out to
Jamaica. The road through Jamaica is clearly enough
marked, as it is the beginning of the Plank Road that con-
tinues on to Jericho. The rider should keep on this road,
which is in good condition, out of Jamaica a mile or more,
passing through Hollis and Holliswood Park. At the latter
place, and just before reaching Queens, a turn should be
made to the right, and after crossing the track the rider
will run out over a good road about seven miles to Hemp-
stead. On entering Hempstead he may turn to the left and
run up to Garden City, where there is a hotel that is welL
kept, and a good place for a short stop if one is desired.
RETURNING TO HEMPSTEAD, the rider keeps to the main
road, running down towards Ridgewood, and comes into
the Shore Road, and thence the run continues straight on
through South Jerusalem, Seaford, Amityville,Lindenhnrst,
into Babylon. The whole run from Brooklyn is practically
a forty-mile journey, and if the wheelman intends to re-
turn on his wheel to Brooklyn he can keep straight on the-
Shore Road, passing through Freeport, Rockville Centre, and
Valley Stream, instead of turning to the right near Ridge-
•wood, and going hack through Hempstead. The great ad-
vantage of this run is that there are almost no hills along
the line of the road, and the wheelman has as "clean "a
ride as can be found in the vicinity of New York. When
all the roadway along the South Side of Long Island is
finally macadamized there will be hardly a single run in
the country to equal it.
K. L. T.— The cost of a bicycle trip from New York to Liverpool, thence
to France, and perhaps into Germany, depends entirely on how much'
luxury the traveller expects to indulge in, and whether he or she will ride-
entirely or will frequently use railway trains. It is safe to say, however,
that it is possible after reaching Europe to make a bicycle tour through
France and Germany on an average of two dollars per day, though that
requires the greatest care in expenses. (2) It would be hardly advisable for
two ladies to travel through France and Germany alone on bicycles,
though it could be done. The difficulty would be that bicyclists still
attract attention, and two foreign women would be much more likely
to meet with difficulties than if they travelled by rail, to say nothing of
the possible accidents to their machines. (3) The necessary luggage
would be comparatively easily carried in the triangular water-proof bi-
cycle bag, which is carried on a diamond frame machine inside the dia-
mond, and on a woman's bicycle in a different shape bag attached to
the handle-bar in the front. Any woman going on such a trip should
learn how to take a bicycle to pieces and put it together again, and in the
process of learning she will discover what tools are necefsary. Material
for mending tires is absolutely neeessnry — a good monkey-wrench, oil
cans, a tire inflator, pincers, and a reasonably good supply of small wire
and t\viue for making repairs where such material is necessary. In
France you will probably find no difficulty in having all necessary bicycle
NOTK.— Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of
route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamfordr
Connecticut, in No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New-
Jersey, from Hobokeu to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn iu No. 814.
612
HAEPEK'S BOUND TABLE
repairs made, especially in the cities and larger towns.
It would be much cheaper to stop at houses, and in
England, and perhaps to a certain extent in France
aud Germany, such travellers are very ,\vell received
in the cottages of the peasants in the middle classes.
(4) The best bicycle roads in the world are in England,
and England has for many years been called the '• bi-
cyclist's paradise." The French government roads
come next, both being comparatively free from hills.
German roads are by no meana as good, and the coun-
try is mure hilly. Swiss roads are moderately good,
and in some places very fine, but they are apt to be
extremely hilly. Northern Italy would probably come
next ; but it is safe to say that for two women taking
their first bicycle tour, England is by far the best
place to travel in. (5) If two ladies travel second-class
on a steamer to Liverpool they might meet with some
unpleasant incidents, but it is now possible to get a
first-class return ticket on some of the smaller steam-
ers of the important lines quite as cheaply as a second-
class return ticket on the larger steamers. For in-
stance, a first-class ticket and return to Havre.
Fiance, or Southampton, England, can be bought for
from ninety to one hundred dollars on the smaller
steamers of the Hamburg and North German Lloyd
lines. It would, of course, be cheaper to buy a return
ticket.
Any questions in regard to phutopraph iniitlers will be willingly
answered by the editor of this column, and we should tie glad to hear
from any of our club wlio cnn make helpful suggestions.
BROKEN NEGATIVES.
SOMETIMES one is so unfortunate as to
break a negative which cannot well be
replaced. The amateur who understands
little about photographic work is, in such a
case, quite likely to think that the negative
is ruined, and throw it away; but unless it
has been broken in many pieces it can be
repaired so that one can get as good a
print from it as before it was broken.
If there is one clear break across the
glass, but not through the lilin, place the
negative in the printing frame, pushing the
broken edges closely together, holding them
while adjusting the sensitive paper. Kasti-n
in the printing frame, and print in a diffused
light — that is, not in the direct rays of the
sun. Place the negative at such an angle
with the light that the crack across the glass
shall not make a shadow.
If there are several cracks in the glass,
but not in the film, put the negative in the
printing frame, supporting it by a piece of
plain glass ; tie cords to the printing frame
so that it may be suspended by them ; hang
the frame from some projection where it
will not hit anything, and keep it revolv-
ing during the printing process. The plate
moving all the time, the cracks in the glass
do not cast a shadow long enough in one
place to make any impression on the sensi-
tive paper. If one cannot arrange the frame
in this way, it may be placed at the bottom
of a large deep bos without a cover, and
left to print.
If the film is broken as well as the glass,
take a piece of plain glass the size of the
negative — a spoiled plate is just the thing
— lay the broken pieces on this plain glass,
taking care that the picture lines of the
negative are true, and bind the edges of the
glass and negative together with strips of
gummed paper. When the strips arc dn,
varnish the film with negative varnish. It
is better to purchase the varnish ready pre-
pared than to attempt to fix it one's self.
If the negative is badly broken, but noi
splintered, apply Canada balsam with ;
toothpick to the edges of the broken parts
and press them firmly together, keeping the
negative ou a flat surface during the pro-
cess, a glass plate a little larger than the
negative being the best thing to use. When
the balsam is thoroughly dry, flow the nega
tive with varnish, and as soon as it begim,
to set cover it with a piece of glass the size
of the negative. When dry, bind the edges
together with strips as before directed. If
I he iii'gati ve is very badly broken, it should
be enclosed between two pieces of plain
glass, putting on the second in tin* same
manner, after the first is dry. Bind the three
together.
An excellent paste for binding negatives
and lantern slides is made of rice flour.
Mix rice flour with water till it is smooth
and free from lumps. Set the dish contain-
ing it into another of hot water, and boil
till it becomes thick and semi-transparent,
stirring it all the time. When done it
should be about the consistency of laundry
starch made for collars and cuffs. This paste
is very strong — in fact, almost as durable
as cement. If a few drops of carbolic acid
are added to it, it will keep for some time.
The bottle should be tightly corked when
not in use.
If the film has not been broken it can be
removed from the glass in the same way
(Continued, on page 615.)
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HARPER'S ROUKD TABLE
IRounD liable Chapters.
No. 720.— The Nathan Hale Chapter, of Philadel-
phia, I'a. Blair Baker. Thomas Bleint, Howard B.
Rote. Section E, No. 5, Girard College, Philadel-
phia.
Ko. 73i._ The Rugby Chapter, of New York city.
Officers are N. J. Spiro, W. W. Gleason, II F. small.
Other members are R. Mantell, N. Marluff, F. B.
Bustler, H. C. Moore, R. Heather. L. IVabody.
i Ibapter address, H. F. Small, 54 West 85th Street.
No. 722.— The King Arthur Chapter, of Urbaua,
III. Its color is white, and its emblem white rose
and clover. Marjorie Forbes and Ethel Ricker,
Urbaua.
No. 723.— The Thespis Dramatic Chapter, of Chi-
cago, 111. Lola Lewis, Laura \Velch. Other mem-
bers are Marie Ifosenfield, Eleanor Lydou. Chap-
ter address, 4454 Oakenwald Avenue.
No. 724,— The John Burroughs Chapter, of Win-
sted, Conn. Elizabeth Keniiard. Ruth E. Whiting.
Other members are Mabel Churchill, Grace A.
Smith, Grace and Mary Kennard. It is a natural
history Chapter, and devotes spare moments to
the study of birds, trees, aud flowers. Ruth E.
Whiting. Winsted.
No. 725.— The Lincoln Chapter, of Glasgow, Mont.
RoyE. Hall, Wallace Kellesou, John Sherry; Walter
Fryburg, Glasgow.
No. 726.— The Margaret Sangster Chapter, of Ger-
mania, N. J. Augusta Guenther, Christine and
Julia Gaupp ; Christine Gaupp, Germania.
No. 737.— The Fiances II. Burnett Chapter, of
Minneapolis, Minn. It. is organized for the en-
couragement of goodly fellowship and improve-
ment. It desires to communicate with Knights
aud Ladies of the Rouud Table living in Minne-
apolis. Its officers are Fred H. Stevens, Lottie
Kluge, Myrtle Jones; Florence Kimball, 3600
Blootnington Avenue.
Lovers of Play Journalism.
Odd, isn't it, how everybody loves to see what he
•writes in print? The oldest editor in America is
not free from this vanity, or whatever one may
call it. So young persons who play at making
small papers are in good company. Besides, they
are engaged in what affords them experience they
can get in no other way. Three excellent ama-
teur papers reach the Table : the Amateur t \>ll> <:tvr.
1; T Hale aud F. W. Beale, editors and publishers,
23 Federal Street, Newburyport, Mass.; Our Young
People, Robinson Bros. & Co., Box 355, Brunswick,
Me.; and the Little Magnet, Louis O. Brosie, editor,
3405 Butler Street, Pittsburg, Pa. All three are
splendid examples of the editor's and printer's
"arts." Here are some members who are inter-
ested in journalism, want sample copies, and can
con 1 1 -Unite morsels : Waldemar Young. 174 r street,
Salt Lake City, Utah; J. T. Delano, Jun.. 12 White
Street, Newport R. I.; James F. Bowen, 36 St.
JamesAvenue, Boston, Mass ; and Samuel T. Bush,
1104 East 15th Street, East Oakland, Cal.
R. C. Megrue asks what it costs to start and run
a small paper. That depends on how large it is,
and whether you have a press of your own. The
cost is considerable per copy if you go to a regular
printing-office, because the edition is rarely above
two or three hundred copies. The charge in one
case we know of was §7 per hundred. Will not
R. T. Hale kindly give us a morsel on the subject!
Louis O. Brosie and Clement F. or Arthur L. Rob-
inson may give US morsels too. Please irll ttur
TaMe about the cost, size, and mention some of
tiie other difficulties. Never mind the fun of the
thing. Pleasures take care of themselves.
What a Copyright Is.
A copyiiu'hr, d.-;ir sir II;irry, is ;L Io^;il ri^ht to a
O'M'V. isii|.]H^,' voti Mini your friend Delano, four
doors away, should pul»ii*h a book that proved as
pnpuhir as— well, let, us s:ty Trilby* or Ben-II»r, or
r/"V. rom'jf Ca&indid If you sen tout a tv-\v copies
ami inn ii[M>u lilt-in no letfaJ proprietary mark,
other persons ^<-rin^ i lit-, (li-inand could ;iml would
take your work, make copies of it, sellthem, pocket
the nioin-y, and trive \ on aothing for wha.t perhaps
cost you a (jretit deal of effort. If, ho\v*'v< r, you
observe the lejral forms, and your book proves sale-
able, other persons are prevented from making ad-
ditional copies. Those who want copies must buy
them from you. The legal form is very simple.
Before you publish the book, paper, print, or what-
ever it is, you mail two copies to the Librarian of
Congress, Washington, with $1. lie returns to you
a paper, duly signed, setting forth the fact that for
a certain number of years that article belongs to
you. You state this fact on each copy published,
and then the profit is yours, and the law protects
you in it.
Some South African Birds.
Following the example of other members of the
Round Table, I thought I would write and tell you
about some of our birds.
My brothers and I have just been talking about
the blue hawk. It is not a particularly large bird,
and is grayish-blue in color. It is comparatively
harmless, its chief prey being rats aud mice. Its
nest looks like a pile of sticks roughly laid together,
but at the bottom of the nest it is very soft. This
is the description my little cousin gives of its eggs :
" If you were to take a pure white egg and rub it
all over with blood, leaving a few white specks, it
would be just like a blue-hawk's egg." In shape it
is round, and the color is really a dirty red. The
bird's call sounds very much like that of a cross
fretful baby. ,
Another peculiar bird here is the hammerhop.
It is a large brown bird, and has a crest upon its
bead which looks like a hammer, hence the name.
It preys upon the frogs. It makes a tremendous
nest in the shape of a hut on the top of a high
rock. I atu told that it plasters the nest on the in-
side.
One of our prettiest birds is the gilded cuckoo or
diedrich. The color of its back is green, and looks
as if a lot of bronze dust had been sprinkled on it.
Its breast is white spotted with brown. Like other
cuckoos, it lays its eggs in other birds' nests. The
color of the eggs is pure white. It has a very
musical call — "dee-dee-dee-died rich. '
The aasvogel is a species of vulture. It is of a
dirty white color, and has no feathers at all on its
neck. Almost as soon as an animal dies the sky
is darkened by aasvogels flying to prey upon the
body. The leader or king perches upon it first,
while his followers sit round waiting until he is
finished. He claims the eyes as his portion, as a
rule. As soon as he has satisfied his hunger he
flies away, leaving his followers to have their share.
The aasvogel builds his nest of sticks on the top
of some inaccessible krautz (precipice). The eggs
are white, I believe, spotted with brown. I would
like to correspond with Ladies of the Round Table
in different parts of the world. ISHA FINCHAM.
ROYDOH, QUEENBTOWN, CAPE COLONY, SoCTH AFKICA,
Do Your Rabbits Ever Drink?
Mr. Chase says rabbits drink. I think there are
two sides to that question. I know a boy who has
a dozen rabbits and not one ever drinks. I have
two and neither ever drink. Another friend had
two that he kept seven years. They drank milk,
and, at rare times, water. I believe that rabbits
can be trained either way. What is the experi-
ence of others? VICTOR R. GAGE.
VlNELAID.
* ,*
A Florida Gopher.
A Florida gopher is very different from those we
read about as living out West. In shape and size
he is nearly like a common fresh-water turtle, with
tliis difference ; he lives on land. The gopher has
a very hard shell .-overing his entire body except
the head and feet. His Iront feet are nearly like a
turtle's, with four or five claws, but very hard.
They must of neces-iiy tie hard, tor this animal
burrows very deep in this hard, clay ground. His
hind feet are round, with aflat, bottom, four to five
claws on each, evidently made for pushing when
walking or burrowing. They look like amiuiature
elephant's foot. i
Ills head is also very much like a turtle's. \\ In n
alarmed he draws his head and feet into his shell
and remains quiet. He is a very peaceful animal.
I have never k"nown one to bite anybody nor any-
thing else. The gopher lives in the ground, bur-
614
rowing a molelike passage several hundred feet
long. There is no use trying to dig for one. It
would take a week of the hardest kind of work to
reach the bottom of his tunnel.
He comes out every day about noon for his
meals. He eats grass, weeds, clover, etc., for his
regular meals; but when he finds a farm with
pease, beans, and other vegetables, unless he is dis-
covered in time he will do a great, deal of damage,
for he eats such things voraciously. In raising
their young the female lays from five to six eggs
in the dirt she has thrown out when digging her
tunnel. She buries them, and in a few weeks
hatches out. a great number of the cutest little
things you ever saw. They do not stay with their
mother, but go immediately to forming a little bur-
row for themselves, which is from five to six feet
deep. They can live a long time without any food
whatever. Their flesh is also eatable, tasting some-
what like chicken. May I write again 1
UMATILLA, FLA. HARRY R. WHITCOJIB.
Certainly you may write again.
Blackberries Nearly the Year Round.
Down here we have a great variety of fruit. We
have blackberries nearly all the year round. They
commence in March and last until about the end
of November. All are what we call wild in the
States. Indians peddle them in big baskets on
their backs. They are a great deal smaller than
yours, and can only be eaten when cooked. I
would like to exchange Mexican postage and rev-
enue stamps with some Knights of the Round
Table. ROBEIIT L MILLER, JUN.
P. O. Box 3la, MEXICO CITY, Mexico.
Hounting Paper Money.
A California member asks how to fix paper
money so that it may be examined without having
to take it out of envelopes each time. There are
two ways of mounting your specimens. The first
and most difficult is to take very stiff paper and
make a leaf with an opening of the exact size, like
the opening in a photograph album leaf. Mucil-
age the tiniest edge all around, and press till
thoroughly dry.
The oilier way is to cover the four corners, but
this prevents the back from being seen. An ideal
way would be to have two specimens — one to
mount one side front, the other the other side.
Rare manuscripts are mounted according to the
first method, and then the heavy albumlike leaves
are bound into a book.
milant Corner.
Do you live in Chateaugay, N. T.? Please favor
Blanche French, West Dedham, Mass., with some
account of the place, its size, location, aud any in-
teresting information. She will be most grateful.
Hubert B. Stephens is the new secretary of the
Bollman Chapter, and his address is Box 874, Sharps-
burg, Pa. It is a corresponding, stamp, aud botany
club with ten-cent fee and live -cent dues. Of
course it wants to hear from anybody interested.
S. J. Tucker, 2S1S Mary Street, Pittsburg, Pa., wants
to find old copies of Xotts ami Queries. Have you
any? He will reward you if you write him.
The Benjamin Harrison Chapter, of Lee, Mass.,
wants suggestions how to make its meetings in-
teresting. It also wants correspondents. Won't
you write? Ernest A. Chaplin, Somerset East,
Cape Colony, South Africa, writes to the Table :
"There is a beautiful mountain just outside our
town, and on it a place called ' Rabbit Rock.' " Sir
Ernest says he collects stamps, and has many rare
ones to trade.
The fee for admission to the Thaddeus Stevens
Chapter, 910 North Broad Street, Philadelphia, is
ten cents, and it wants members, both resident and
non-resident. By mistake we announced the fee
as §1. The Sylvia Chapter was prompt to give us
t he asked-for facts about it. Its president is Mary
I1,. Yohn, 5813 Jackson Street, Wissinoming, Phila-
delphia: secretary. A. Grace Owen. One of its
members, Harriett O. Bender, wants to trade flow-
ers. Address care the president. Will the Sylvia's
president tell us how its meetings are made inter-
esting? We wish to publish the information.
HAEPEE'S ROUND TABLE
(Continued from pay* 013.)
that films an- stripped, and transferred to
another clean plate.
For very valuable negatives it is a good
plan to make a paper negative, in case of
accident to the glass one. A paper nega-
tive is made by taking a good print of the
negative and waxing it according to direc-
tions -ivni in Xo. 7^*2 "answers to queries."
Make a print from this waxed positive, sup-
porting the paper while iu the printing
frame by a sheet of plain glass. Tone and
fix this print, which will be a negative.
Wax it, and if yon are so unfortunate as to
break the original, you will still have the
paper copy, which can be used in its plaee.
For negatives that can be replaced it is
not wise to spend the time in repairing t hem
if broken, but it sometimes happens that a
valuable one is broken which cannot be
duplicated, and with careful handling it can
be made " as good as new."
Sin KNIGHT HARRY T. LUTHER, New York, asks what
causes his negatives to turn yellow, and it there is any
remedy for it. The reason why negatives turn yellow-
is usually because they have not been washed long
enough. They should be washed in running water an
hour. It' running water is not convenient soak the
phtk- tor tun hours, changing the water several times.
The yellow stuins may sometimes be removed by
soaking the negative for a short time in a solution of
one ounce sulphite of soda and nine ounces water, to
which a few drops of sulphuric acid have been addi-d.
Sir Harry also asks what toning solution to use with
the plain paper described in Nos. 796 and 803. The
combined toning solution used for aristo paper is the
best solution for the plain paper. It works quickly,
and gives soft clear tones.
SIR KNIGHT WII.UAM KKT.SKY asks if a combined
toning and fixing solution can he prepared for auto-
type paper — how long negatives and prints should be
washed in running water— and what use is made of
hyposulphite of soda and alum in developing nega-
tives. A combined toning solution for aristo may he
bought ready prepared, or 'one can prepare it at home.
A. formula comes with each package of paper, and
half the quantity given is enough to prepare at one
time, unless one has a large number of prints to tone.
Hyposulphite of soda and alum are used for fixing
the negative after developing. The hypo can be used
for fixing without the addition of the alum. The
alum hardens and clears the film, and is good to us*;
in warm weather to prevent the frilling of the film.
SIR KNIGHT GKORGR H. BKNZON, JUN., Philadelphia,
Pa., asks for the best solution for fixing plates. A
solution of 4 ounces water and 1 ounce of hyposul-
phite of sodais the formula used by the editor of this
column both in warm and cold weather. In warm
weather the tray containing the fixing solution is set
in a pan containing pieces of ice, which prevent* the
frilling or softening of the film. A formula for a fixing
solution with soda and alum is given in No. 80S, an-
swer to 8ir Knight Frederick Kopper.
SIR KNIGHTS D. G. STANHROUGH, A. SMITH, HARI.OVV
Brown, and Lady Florence Crane all ask for a good
formula for a toning solution, but neither one says for
what kind of paper. The formulas for toning baths
are very numerous, and different chemicals are used
for different sensitive papers. As aristo paper is ut
present a very popular paper, we give the following
standard, combining toning and fixing bath for prints
made on this paper: Water, 10 ounces; hyposulphite
of soda, 2 ounces; sulphocyanide of ammonium,^'
ounce; acetate of lead, 30 grains; nitrate of lead, SO
grains; chloride of gold (neutral), 1 grain.
This bath must be made up twenty-four hours be-
fore using, that it may clear and settle. In prepar-
ing, add the ingredients in the order named, dissolv-
ing each before adding another. Put the prints, with-
out washing, in this bath, one at a time, taking care
that no air bubbles form on the print, as they will leave
spots on the finished prints. The prints will turn at
first a yellowish-brown, then to a warm red, and finally
to a rich brown. Remove from the bath as soon as
the desired tone is obtained. Wash for one hour in
running water. This bath keeps well, and by multi-
plying each ingredient by four oue can make four
times the quantity.
IVORY SOAP
IT FLOATS
You have noticed the disagreeable odor of clothes just from the
wash. That's the soap. Cheap soaps do not rinse out. Ivory Soap
rinses readily, leaving the clothes sweet, clean and whfte.
THE PROCTER & QAMDLE Co., OIN'TI
CHILDREN GROW
healthy — grow happy— grow rosy cheeked and bright eyed, on HIRES'
RooTBEER. This great health- f\ |k¥ giving temperance drink
should be kept in every home. ^Jl £^J It will benefit and delight
every member of the family from the baby up, and prove a most delicious
thirst satisfying beverage for callers. It's good all the time — morning,
W V • V^t W^^^ V noon aud B'ght- Get the genuine
filKtb Rootbeer
A 25 cent package ni>k« 5 galloni. Sold everywhere. The Chn B. E. Hires Co., Philadelphia.
MONARCH^
King of all Bicycles.
TRADE-MARK.
Five Styles. Weights, 1 8 to 25 Pounds.
Prices, $S5 and $1OO.
MONARCH CYCLE CO.
Factory and Main Office, Lake and Halsted Sts. , Chicago.
Eastern Branch: 79 Reade St. & 97 Chambers St., N.V.
The C. F. Of YON Co., Ltd., Managers.
[CARD PRINTER/WEE
Sets any name in uni_- miuule; prints 5(X) cards an
hour. YOU can make money with it. A font of
pretty type, alao IndeliMe Ink, Type Holder, P»ds
and Tweeiera. Beat Linen Marki r; worth 31 W>.
Sample toailed FREE for lOo. etnmps for pusta^e on
nd large csialotruc of 1000 Barfrains.
--.II & I ;, ... 65 Cortluodt tit. > . 1. City
615
The KOAXBI
Carry in pocket. Takes 25 perfect pictures
in one loading— re-loading rusts LU-. A-k
your dealer for it, or send for free booklet
"All About the Kombi."
ALFRED O. KEMPEK, -_-
Branches : London, Berlin. 132-134 Lake Street, Chicago
nCACNESS & HEAD NOISES CURED
t M r b-T m5" INVISIBLE Tuliulnr Cushions. Have helped
mor« to fiood UCADlDo than all other de-
vices combined. Whispers II CM lid. Help ears as classes
ikiejes. r. II la,. ox. 858 B'dway.N.Y. BooKofproob FREE
The Eight Numbers of the Franklin
Square Song Collection contain
1600
of the Choicest Old and New Songs
and Hymns in the Wide World.
Fifty Cents per Number in paper; Sixty Ceuts in
substantial Board binding1; One Dollar in Cloth.
The Eight Numbers also bound in two volumes at
$3.00 each. Address Harper & Brothers, New York.
-- •-'';•«
<Rv?S^4{35JE»V-A/..>':te r'*,.:.m- "'•<""
•*^$j$iiK2--;'-
Though well lie rides and does the trick,
The bull-dug's puce lie finds too quick;
On yonder limb he'll get a hold,
And leave the bull-dog in the cold.
He swings himself high in the nir.
And takes his bicycle up there ;
Then with his pump he'll downward slip,
And let the bull-dog get a grip.
The bull-dog never will let go,
Though lie's pumped full o£ air, and so
When he's ns full ns he can be,
The next thing happens as you see.
THE TRICK BICYCLE-EIDER AND THE OBSTINATE BULL-DOG.
HELPFUL HINTS FOR BICYCLISTS.
1. A GOOD bicyclist is careful of his roads, therefore when
taking a header l>e careful not to bit the road too hard
•with your forehead. You might make a dent in tin- pa\e-
meut.
2. In falling off your wheel do not fall on both sides at
once. Failure to observe this rule will result in dividing
you against yourself.
3. Always be courteous. If a trolley-car has the right
of way over the track do not dispute with it. A buy in
Massachusetts who broke this rule broke his right arm and
his cyclometer at the same time.
4. Be cautious. In riding from New York to Brooklyn
keep to the driveway. Don't try to wheel over the sus-
pension-cable. You might slip and fall into the smoke-
stack of a passing ferry-boat.
5. Keep your lamp lit when riding at night.. The hoy
•who thought he was safr because In- had a parlor-match iu
liis pocket came home with a spoke in his wheel that didu't
belong tlliTC.
6. Do not be rough with ice-carts and furniture trucks.
If yon must run hit of tliriu do it as gently and ten-
il-Tlv as i t' i t \\<Tr :i baby-ea ri ia ee.
7. A mi-ri'ifiil rider is merciful to his wheel, so do not
force a bic.vle be\ond the point of its endurance, unless
von want to walk haek with your wheel on your shoulders.
8. Keep cool. If in t he course of a ride you find yourself
in a tight place, with a skittish horse to the left and a steep
ia\ me to t lie right, and a bull-dog directly to the fore, take
ravine. You'll go into it. anyhow, and if you take it alone
•without dragging the .log or the horse after yon your
•chances will he impro\ed.
0. Never use spurs on the pneumatic tires of your wheel.
The use of spurs in this manner is likely to leave your bi-
cycle iu a winded condition. Spurs are not comfortable,
either, in case of a throw.
10. Do not be stubborn -with a balky wheel. If the front
•wheel gets in a rut going east, and the hind wheel in an-
other going west, dismount and argue the matter standing,
unless you are tired, and want to lie down by the road-side
without making the effort to do so unassisted.
•
CHANGED HIS MIND.
I DIDN'T like to take my bath,
Until one summer morning bright
I made believe I was a whale,
And now I think it's out o' sight.
A FACETIOUS VISITOR.
"SEE yat'ittle hoy over zare?" said Mabel. '
'ittle buzzer, an' his name is Nat."
''Indeed?" said the visitor. "Well, I think
very good name for a buzzer."
Yat's my
;uat is a
A SINGULAR DRESS.
"Mv big brother belongs to the Seventh Regiment," said
little Nell, proudly, " an', my, how noble he looks when he's
all dressed up in his unicorn!"
A LOST TUNE.
I'VE heard a German band play tunes,
I've heard 'most every other thing;
But one tune I have never heard,
Is that which boiling kettles sing.
616
HARPERS
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, by HAEPKB & BBOTHKES. All Rights R«
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 816.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JUNE 18, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
BY KIRK M U N R O E.
CHAPTER XXXI.
NEL-TE QUALIFIES AS A BltANCH PILOT.
A LTHOUGH disappointed of their guide there was 110-
J\_ thing for the sledge party to do hut push on aud trust
to their own good judgment to carry them safely to the
end of their journey. So as much of the moose meat as
could he loaded on a sledge, or several hundred pounds iu
all, was prepared and frozen that evening. Both then and
in the morning the dogs were given all they could eat — so
much, in fact, that they were greatly disinclined to travel
•during most of the following day.
The latest addition to the party, after being rudely
awakened from the slumber into which Jalap Coombs's
singing had lulled him, called pitifully for his mother, and,
refusing to he comforted, finally sobbed himself to sleep on
Phil's bear-skin iu front of the five. Here he spent the
night, tucked warmly iu a rabbit-skin robe, nestled be-
tween Phil and Serge with all his sorrows forgotten for the
time being. In the early morning he was a very sober
little lad, with a grievance that was not to be banished
even by the sight of his beloved "doggies," while the ad-
vances of his human friends were treated with a dignified
silence. He was too hungry to refuse the food offered him
by Srrgr : but he ate it with a strictly businesslike air, iu
which there was nothing of unbending nor forgiveness.
HAEPER'S BOUND TABLE
'l'« Phil's atiempts at conversation be tnrued a (leaf ear,
nor would lie even so mud) as smile when Jalap Coombs
made lares at liiin. or got down on hands and knees and
growled Cor lii.s special benefit. He was evidently not to
lie \von li\ aii\ siirli foolishness.
Mr was roused to an exhibition of slight interest by the
tinkling ninsic of Husky's bells when the dogs wen- liar-
nrssi-il : anil when even thing being ready Cor a start, 1 'liil
lift i-d liiui on tlie foremost sledge, and tucked him into a
spare sleeping-bag that was securely lashed to it, hu mur-
mured : " Mamma, Nel-le go mamma."
The loads ha\ ing been rcdi.xt ri but ed to provide for 1 he
aei-oniinodati 'I' I he yon ug passenger, lliis foremost sledge
bore besides Nel-te onl\ the l-'i irty-Mile mail, the sleeping
e(|iii|nnent of the ]iarty, and their extra Cnr clothing, t he
1 -A // » /A-, i n which Has stored the small quantity, of tea still
remaining, what was left <>C the pemmican, and an axe. As
with its load it did not weigh over two hundred pounds, its
team was reduced to three dogs, Musky, Luvtuk, and big
Auiook. Serge still drove seven dugs, and his sledge bore
the entire camp equipment and stock of provisions, cx-
cepl the recently aei|iiired mon.se meat. This was loaded
on the last sledge, which was drawn by five dogs, and
driven, by Jalap Coombs according to his own peculiar
fashion.
As soon as the sledges were in motion, and Xel-te con-
cei\ ed the idea that he was going home his spirits n-\ i \ cd
to such an extent that he chirruped cheerfully to the dogs,
and even smiled occasionally at Phil, who sirode alongside.
Tliey crossed l-'ox Lake, passed up the stream that con-
nected it wilh Indian Trail Lake, and dually went into
camp on the edge' of the forest at the head of the latter
earlier than usual, beean-e they could not see their way to
the making of any further progress. Although they Cell
certain that tin-re must be some stream flowing into the
lake by wlTich they could leave it, they could discover uo
sign of its opening. So they made camp, and leaving Jalap
Coomb., to can- Cor it Phil and Serge departed in opposite
direct ions to scan every foot of the shore ill search of a
place of exit.
On reaching; this camping-place Nel-te looked about him
inquiringly, and with evident disappointment, but he said
nothing, and only gazed wistfully after the two lads when
they set forth on their search. For a time he hung aboni
the camp-tire watching Jalap Coombs, who was too busily
engaged in eunking supper and piepariug for the night to
pay much attention to him. At length the litlle eliap
strolled over to tin- sledges, and engaged in a romp with
the three dogs who dragged his particular conveyance.
Every now and then his shrill laughter came to Jalap's
ears, and assuieil the la her that the child w as safe.
After a while the explorers returned, both completely dis-
couraged and perplexed.
" I don't believe there is any inlet to this wretched lake!"
cried Phil, Hinging himself down on a pile of robes. "I've
searched every foot of coast on my side, and am willing to
swear that thc-re isn't an opening big enough for a rabbit
to squee/c through, so Car as I \\ cut."
"Norconhl 1 liml a sign oC one," aClirmed Serge, " though
perhaps in the morning —
"Hello! Where's Xel-te?" interrupted Phil, springing
to his feet and ga/ing about him anxiously.
"He were about here just as you boys kim in," replied
Jalap Coombs, suspending ope rat ions at the lire, and ga/ing
about him with a startled expression. ''I heered him play-
ing with the dogs not more'n a minute ago."
"Well. lie isn't in sight now ." said Phil, iu a voice whose
tone betrayed his alarm, "ami if we don't, find him in a
hurry there's a chance of our not doing it at all, for it will
be dark iu lifteeu minutes more."
As he spoke, Phil hastily replaced the snow-shoes that
he had just laid aside. Serge did the same thing, and then
ih. \ began to circle about the camp with heads bent low
in search of the tiny trail. At short intervals they called
aloud the name of the missing oue, but ouly the mocking
forest echoes answered them.
Suddenly Serge uttered a joyful shout. He had found
the prints of small snow-shoes crossed and recrossed by
those of dogs. Iu a moment Phil joined him, and the two
followed the trail together. It led Cor a short distance
along the border of the lake in the direction previously
taken by Phil, and then making a sharp bend to the right
si nick directly into the forest.
When the boys reached the edge of the timber they found
a low opening so overhung by bushes as to be effectually
concealed from careless observation. The curtaining
grow ih was so bent down with a weight of suow that even
Nel-tc must have stooped to pass under it. That lie had
g that way was shown by the trail dimly visible iu the
growing dusk, and the lads did not hesitate to follow.
Forcing a path through the bushes, which extended only a
few yards back from the lake, they found themselves in au
open highway, evidently the frozen surface of a stream.
'•Hurrah!" shouted Phil, who was the first to gain it.
'•I believe this is the very creek we have been searching
for. It must be, and the little chap has found it for us."
"Yes," replied Serge. "It begins to look as though Cree
Jim's sou had taken Cree Jim's place as guide."
Now the boys pushed forward with increased speed. At
length they heard the barking of dogs, and began to shout,
but received uo answer. They had gone a full quarter of
a mile from the lake ere they caught sight of the little fur-
clad figure plodding steadily forward on what he fondly
hoped to be his way toward home' and the mother for whom
his baby heart so longed. Jlusky, Luvtnk, and big Auiook
were his companions, and not until he was caught up iu
Phil's arms did the child so much as turn his head, or pay
the slightest heed to those w ho followed his trail.
As he was borne back in triumph toward camp his lower
lip quivered, and two big tears rolled down his chubby
cheeks, but he did not cry nor utter a complaint ; nor from
that time on did he make further effort to regain his lost
home. The bo\s had hardly begun to retrace their steps
when another figure loomed out of the shadows, and came
rapidly toward them. It looked huge in the dim light, and
advanced with gigantic strides.
"Hello!" cried Phil, as he recognized the new-comer.
"Where are yon bound ?"
"Bound to get lost along with the rest of the crew," re-
plied Jalap Coombs, stoutly. "Didn't 1 tell \e I wouldn't
put up with your gettiu' lost alone ag'iu?"
•• 'Chat's so : but, you see, I forgot," laughed Phil. "Now
that we are all found, though, let's get back to the snppt-r
you were cooking before yon decided to get lost. By-the-
way, Mr. Coombs, do yon realize that this is the very stream
for which we have been hunting? What do you think of
our young pilot now ?"
"Think of him!" exclaimed Jalap Coombs. "I thiuk
he's ju* the same as all in the piloting business. Per-
nicketty — kuows a heap more'n he'll ever tell, and won't
everp'int out a channel till yon 're just about to run aground.
Then he'll do it kinder careless and oneonsarned, same as
the kid doue jest now. Oh, lie's a regular branch pilot, he
is, and up to all the tricks of the trade."
Bright, aud early the following niorni ng. thanks to Nel-te's
pilotage, the sledges were speeding up the creek on their
way to Lost Lake. By nightfall they had crossed it, three
other small lakes, descended an outlet of the last to Little
Salmon River, and after a run of live miles down that
stream found themselves once more amid the ice hummocks
of the Yukon, one hundred aud twenty miles above the
month of thePelly. Of this distance they had saved about
one-third by their adventurous cut-off. The end of another
week found them oue hundred and fifty miles further np
•the Yukou and at the mouth of the Tahkeena. It had been
a week of the roughest kind of travel, aud its hard work
was telling severely on the dogs.
As they made their last camp on the mighty river they
were to leave for good on the morrow they were both glad
and sorry. Glad to leave its rough ice and escape the sav-
age difficulties that it offered iu the shape of canons and
roaring rapids only a few miles above, aud sorry to desert
its well-mapped course for the little-known Tahkeena.
Still their dogs could not hold out for another week on the
Yukon, while over the smooth going of the tributary stream
1 h.-\ might survive the hardships of the journey to* its very
618
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
end: anil without these faithful servants our travellers
would indeed lie in a sorry plight. So while they remi-
nisced before their roaring camp-tire of the uiauy adven-
tures they had encountered since entering Yukon nioutli,
two thousand miles away, they looked hopefully forward
to their journey's end, no\v less than as many hundred miles
from that point. To the dangers of the lofty monntain-
range thev had \et to cross they gave but little thought,
for the mountains were still one hundred miles away.
C II A P T E R XXXII.
THE FUlt-SEAL's TOOTH CltEATKS A SENSATION.
ONE evening late in March the smoke of a lonely camp-
fire curled above a fringe of stunted spruces forming the
timber line, high up on the northern slope of the Alaskan
coast range. Kotusk, the natives call these mountains.
Far below lay the spotless sheet of Talik Lake, from which
the Tahkeena winds for one hundred miles down its rugged
valley to swell the Yukon flood. From the foot of the
mountains the unbroken solitude of tin.- vast northern wil-
derness swept away in ice-bound silence to the polar sea.
Far to the westward St. Elias ami Wraugel, the great north-
ern sentinels of the Rocky Mount. lin system, reared their
massive heads twenty thousand feet above the Pacific.
From them the mighty range of snow-clad peaks follows
the coast line eastward, gathering, with icy fingers, the
mist clouds ever rising from the warm ocean waters, con-
verting them with frigid breath into the grandest glaciers
of the continent, aud sending them slowly grinding their
resistless way back to the sea.
On one .side of this stupendous barrier our sledge party
from the Yukon was now halted. On the other side lay the
frontier of civ ilization, safety, and their journey's end. Be-
tween the two points rose the mountains, calmly contemp-
tuous of human efforts to penetrate their secrets of ava-
lanche ami glacier, icy precipice aud snow -tilled gorge,
fierce buzzard anil ice-laden whirlwind, desolation and
deal h. It is no wonder that, face to face with such things,
the little group, gathered about the last camp-tire they
might see for days or perhaps forever, should be uuustially
quiet and thoughtful.
Still clad in their well-worn garments of fur they were
engaged in characteristic occupations. Phil, looking anx-
inns and careworn, was standing close to the lire, warming
aud cleaning his rifle. Serge was making a stew of the
last of their moose meat, which would afterwards be frozen
and taken with them into nntimbered regions where camp-
fires would be unknown. Jalap Coombs was thoughtfully
mending a broken snow-shoe, and at the same time finding
bis task sadly interrupted by Nel-te, who, nestled between
his knees, was trying to attract the sailormau's undivided
attention.
The little chap, with his great sorrow forgotten, was now
the life and pet of the party. So firmly was his place es-
tablished among them that they wondered how they had
ever borne the loneliness of a camp without his cheery
presence, and could hardly realize that he had only recent-
ly come into their lives. Now. too. half the anxiety with
which they regarded the perilous way before them was on
his account.
"I'm worrying most about the dogs, "said Phil, continu-
ing a conversation begun some, time before, "and lam
afraid Mime of them will give out before we reach the sum-
mit."
" Yes," agreed Serge ; '• to-day's pull tip from the lake has
told terribly on them, and Amook's feet have been badly
cut by the crust ever since he ate his boots."
"Poor old dog!" said Phil. "It was awfully careless of
me to forget and leave them on him all night. I don't
wonder a bit at his eating them, though, considering the
short rations he's been fed on lately."
The dogs were indeed having a hard time. Worn by
months of sledge-pulling over weary leagues of snow aud
ice, their trials only increased as the tedious journey pro-
gressed. The days were now so long that each offered a
full twelve hours of sunlight, while the snow was so soft-
ened by the growing warrnih that in the middle of the day
it seriously clogged both snow-shoes and sledges. Then a
crust would form, through which the poor dogs would
break for an hour or more, until it stiffened sufficiently to
bear tln-ir weight. Added to these tribulations was such
a scarcity of food that half-rations had become the rule
lui everj one. men as well as dogs, excepting Nel-te, who
had not \et been allowed to suffer on that account. Of
the many dogs that had been connected with the expedi-
tion at different times only nine were now left, aud some
of these would evidently not go much further.
As the boys talked of the condition of their trust}' ser-
vants, aud exchanged anxious forebodings concerning the
crossing of the mountains, their attention was attracted by
an exclamation from Jalap Coombs, \el-te had been s.>
insistent in demanding his attention that the sailorman
was finally obliged to lay aside his work aud lift the child
to his knees saying,
" \\'aal, Cap'n Kid, what's the orders now, sir?"
"C'ap'n Kid " was the name he had given to the little
fellow on the occasion of the hitter's debut as pilot; for, as
he said, '• Kvery branch pilot answers to the hail of C'ap'n,
aud this one being a kid becomes 'Cap'u Kid ' by rights."
For answer to his question the child held out a small
fur -booted foot, aud intimated that the boot should be
pulled oft'.
" Bad foot, hurt Nel-te," he said.
"So! something gone wrong with your running rigging,
eh 1" queried Jalap Coombs, as he pulled of}' the offending
boot. Before he could investigate it the little chap reached
forward, and, thrusting a chubby hand down to its very
toe, drew forth in triumph the object that had been annoy-
ing him. As he made a motion to fling it out into the
snow. Jalap C'oombs,oiit. of curiosity to see what had wor-
ried the child, caught his hand. The next moment he ut-
tered the half-terrified exclamation that attracted the at-
tention of Phil aud Serge.
As they looked they saw him holding to the firelight be-
tween thumb aud linger, and beyond reach of Nel-te, who
was striving to regain it, an object so strange and yet so
familiar that for a moment they regarded it in speechless
amazement.
" The fur-seal's tooth !" cried Phil. " How can it be ?"
"It can't be our fur -seal's tooth," objected Serge, in a
tone of mingled incredulity and awe. "There must be
sev cral of them."
"I should think so myself." replied Phil, who had taken
the object in question from Jalap Coombs for a closer
examination, "if it were not for a private mark that I
snatched on it when it was in our possession at St. Michaels.
See, here it is, and so the identity of the tooth is established
beyond a doubt. But how it ever got here I can't conceive.
There is actually something supernatural about the whole
thing. Where, did you say you found it, Mr. Coombs ?"
"In Cap'u Kid's boot," replied the mate, who had just
restored that article to the child's foot. "But blow me for
a porpus ef I kin understand how ever it got there. Last
time I seen it 'twas back to Forty Mile."
"Yes, "said Serge, "Judge Riley had it."
" I remember seeing him put it into a vest pocket," added
Phil, "and meant to ask him for it, but forgot to do so.
Now to have it appear from the boot of that child, who has
never been to Forty Mile, or certainly not since we left
there, is simply miraculous. It beats any trick of spiritu-
alism or conspiring I ever heard of. The mystery of the
tooth's appearing at St. Michaels after my father lost it,
only a short time before at Ooualaska, was strange enough ;
but that was nothing to this."
"There must be magic in it," said Serge, who from early
associations was inclined to he superstitious. "I don't care,
though, if there is," he added, stoutly. " I believe the tooth
has come to us at this time of our despondency as an omen
of good fortune, and now I feel certain that we shall pull
through all right. You remember, Phil, the saying that
goes with it: 'He who receives it as a gift receives good
luck.'"
•• Who has received it as a gift this time ?" inquired the
Yankee lad.
"We all have, though it seems to have been especially
619
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
sent to Xel-te, and yon know he is the one we were most
anxious about."
" That's so," assented Phil, " and from this time on Nel-te
shall wear it as a charm, though I suppose it won't stay
with him any longer than suits its convenience. I never
had a superstition in my lift', and haven't believed in such
tilings, but I must confess that my unbelief is shaken by
tliis art air. Their isn't any possible way, that I can sec,
for this tooth to have got ben- except by magic."
"ll beats the Flyiiin Uiilchiuiiii ami M< -i •riiiiniiil.t," said
Jalap Coombs, solemnly, as he lighted his pipe for a ipiict-
iug smoke. "D" ye know, lads, I'm coining to think as how
ii were all on account of this 'ere curio being aboard the
steamer jVorst that she stopped and picked you up in
Bering Sea that night.1'
"Noiisru.se!" cried I'liil. "That is impossible!"
Thus purely tlr.ough ignorance tliislad, who was usually
so sensible and level-headed, declared with one breath Ids
belief in an impossibility, and with the next his disbelief
of a fact. All of which serves to illustrate the folly of mak-
ing assertions concerning subjects about which we are
ignorant. There is nothing so mysterious that it cannot
be explained, and nothing more foolish than to declare a
thing impossible simply because \ve are too ignorant to
understand it.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
BOB, AND BIMBER, AND THE BEAK.
BOB TORRE Y was cantering slowly over the mesa, re-
turning from an- errand to a neighboring cattle
ranch, when he caught sightof ahawk's nest in the top of a
large cedar, and determined to learn whether it contained
any eggs. So he rode up to the tree and dismounted, the
pony understanding by the dropped bridle-rein that he was
not to stray away. His dog Bimber at once began a dili-
gent investigation of the premises of a badger, the front
door of whose burrow opened between two large roots.
Bob had just reached the nest, after some hard scram-
bling, and was intent upon its four brown-splotched eggs,
when he heard Bimber begin barking furiously.
"Guess he's found somebody at home. Teach him to
keep out of other people's houses," Bob said to himself,
gleefully, but was too busy to look down. The racket con-
tinued, and seemed to go away and come back. Lowering
liis head below the nest to ascertain what was going on,
the boy forgot those eggs instantly, for he saw a gri/.zly
bear loping over the ground in close pursuit of that fool of a
dog, who was ki-yi-iiig and doing his best to reach the tree,
while Bob's pony, head and tail up, was making a record
for speed in the opposite direction.
The bear seemed as big as an elephant, and was growling
savagely. " Oh," he thought, " if I were only a haw k, like
that one soaring overhead; or a horse, like that one tearing
across the prairie ; or even a dog, like Bimber, who — " But
where irnx Himherf He had disappeared. Had the bear
eaten him up? No; the boy must have seen the capture
if that had happened.
Then a horrible thought came and nearly chilled his
bones. Could a grizzly bear climb a tree ?
Suddenly the barking was heard once more, hut in a queer,
muffled tone, as if the dog were far away, yet no glimpse
nf his while coat could be caught anywhere, though Bob's
eyes searched on all sides. Next the barking would ring
.'Ul sharp and clear close by, and the hear would give a
new roar, hut nothing be visible. It was most puzzling.
"Where in the mischief is Bimber?" the prisoner kept
asking himself, until he almost forgot his own peril.
Then the terrier suddenly appeared, facing his big enemy.
and scolding the best he knew how. The grizzly whirled
round and made a dash, but the dog was t \\ ice as agile, and
in an instant was safe in that burrow between the roots.
• The hear tried to reach in, first one paw and then aii-
other, and so drag its small enemy out, but such tactics
were of no avail. The dog simply retreated until Bob
could scarcely hear its voice, and never once ventured
within reach of those formidable claws.
"Maybe I can frighten the beast," thought Bob, as he
drew his small double-barrelled pistol from his belt and
fired.
The bear gave a roar as the little bullet stung his shoul-
der, and, dropping the shot-gun, came rushing back to the
tree, where it reared up savagely, only to receive the con-
tents of the other barrel, making a scalp wound, which
brought out another terrific growl, while Bimber was able
to take a nip at a hind leg and escape.
This last hit of impudence was too much. Bruin was
thoroughly enraged. He tore at the mouth of the burrow
as though he meant to dig it out in three minutes, but the
tough roots were in the way, and before long he gave up
the task, and, as if decided upon a siege, lay dowu squarely
across the hole and began rubbing his sore head.
For au hour or more the boy sat there, when suddenly
an idea occurred to him.
His powder-flask still hung around his neck. Unscrew-
ing its cap, he poured into his left hand as much gunpowder
as it could conveniently hold, and replaced the cap. Keach-
ing up to the nest, he lifted out one of the hawk's eggs,
broke it gently, and let a little quantity of the sticky
"white" run into the powder in his palm. This done, he
mixed the two together, adding more of one or the other as
needed, until he had formed a paste that suited him. This
paste he shaped into a roll or cord around a ravelling from
liis coat lining, which served as a sort of wick, coiled it
closely, and laid it on the branch beside him. This was a
" spitting devil," such as he had often used to make Fourth-
ot'-July fun with. He then made two more.
With as little noise as possible Bob crept down to the
lowest limb, where he was directly over the huge mass of
fur, and twisted his legs round the limb so as to leave both
arms free. Holding the three "devils" in one hand, he
took a match from his pocket and lighted them rapidly,
then dropped the blazing things, one after another, upon
the dozing beast beneath him.
If Bruin noticed them at all, he doubtless supposed some
twigs had fallen upon his back; but before long their
tizzing and snapping woke him up, and the next moment
they began to warm him well, especially one, which had
caught firmly in the ruff around his neck, and another
among the long hair on his haunches. He rolled over and
over, but this only ground the devils deeper into the fur,
while Bimber, aroused by the rumpus, rushed out to add
his clamor to the commotion. Suddenly a terrific explo-
sion rent the air. and nearly knocked Bob off his perch
with surprise. The bear, in floundering about, had sat
down upon the gun, and, entangling the hammers in his
hair, had discharged it; but as the barrels were bent, of
course the gun had burst.
That was the finishing touch. Singed, stung, and panic-
stricken by the powder on his hack and the explosion in
his rear, the grizzly uttered a great howl and galloped
away at the top of his speed.
KING ARTHUR AND HIS KNIGHTS.
III. — ARTHUR AND THE KNIGHTS.
" A RTHUU must have been tickled to death," said Jack,
XjL when his father told how Sir Ector and Kaye knelt
before him and hailed him as King. "Wouldn't it be fine,
Mollie. if somebody should ring our front-door bell now.
aud come in and prove that you and I were King and
Queen of somewhere, aud that papa was bringing us up for
Queen Victoria or Emperor William, for instance?"
"I don't think so at all," said Mollie. "I don't want to
he Queen, aud I don't think you'd make a good King,
either. You slide do« n the banisters too much to make a
very royal King. Kings don't do such things."
"I guess (hex would if they could," said Jack. "What's
the good of being a King if you cau't do whatever you
wanted to?"
" I'd rather be a President, though," put iu Mollie.
Kings have to wear .solid gold crowns with prongs on
'em a^ll the time, and it must be dreadfully uncomfortable."
" Very true, my dear," said her father. " A crown, is
G-JO
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
about the most uncomfortable possession a
man can have, and Arthur, I fancy, felt very
much at first as you do. He felt very bad-
ly indeed when he learned that Sir Ector
was not bis father, and that Kaye was no-
thing but a chum, instead of a brother, as
he had always thought, for he loved them
both more than he did any one else in
the world. So when Sir Ector knelt be-
fore him and said, 'You are the rightful
King of England,' Arthur opened his eyes
as widely as he could and started hack in
amazement."
"I gness he thought it was an April-
fool," laughed Mollie.
"At h'rst he may have thought that,"
said the Story-teller, "but when he re-
membered that great Knights like Sir Ec-
tor wouldn't play jokes of that kind he
didn't think it any more. He began to
grow uneasy and unhappy, for instead of
throwing his cap into the air anil crying
hurrah, as Jack would do if he were elect-
ed President of the United States to-mor-
row, he gave a groan and an exclamation
of dismay.
"'Alas!' he cried; 'why do my father
and brother kneel before me?'
" ' I am not your father, nor is Kaye
your brother,' replied Sir Ector.
'"Then who am I?' cried Arthur, in
great distress.
'"That I know not,' returned Sir Ector,
'save that you are our King. You were •
brought to me by Merlin to care for when
you were an infant, and from that day to
this you have been treated as my son.
Whose child you are I do not know, nor
have I ever known — nor has any one
known except Merlin."'
"'Didn't Sir Ector know who paid his
board f ' asked Jack. " Who'd be send his
bill tot"
The Story-teller smiled. " I don't be-
lieve Sir Ector charged anything for his
services," he said. "He was a true
Knight, and was willing to perform a
knightly service for another without charging anything
for it or asking too many questions."
''You couldn't get anybody to do that nowadays, I im-
agine," said Mollie, thoughtfully. "I think very likely
they'd ha' sent him to an orphan asylum if he'd lived now."
" I am not at all sure that you are not right about that,"
said her father; " but whether you are or not, the fact re-
mains that Sir Ector took Arthur in, and without knowing
whence he came or who or what he was, was as good to
him as he was to Kaye, his own little boy ; and when Arthur
learned that Ector was not his father, it, pained him deeply,
and he heartily wished lie' had never seen the sword in the
stone which had made known the secret of his high posi-
tion to the world.
"Then Sir Ector asked Arthur to be his gracious lord
when he had become King, and to make Kaye the steward
of all his lands. This Arthur promised, for, as he said to
Sir Ector, he owed more to linn and his wife than ho did to
all others in the world. The promise made, Sir Ector took
Arthur to the Archbishop, and told him all that had oc-
curred, and the Archbishop was as much surprised as Ar-
thur had been, and bring a wise man, he foresaw that all
others would be surprised as well, and some of them un-
pleasantly so. so he advised that the matter be kept secret
for a little while, when he would summon the Knights for
another trial, at which Arthur could do publicly what he
had already done unobserved.
"On Twelfth Day the plan was carried out. The
Knights again rode to the church-yard and tugged at the
sword, but no more successfully than before. Then Arthur
came forth to try, and they all laughed at him. Some of
ECTult TOOK ARTHUR TO THE ARCHBISHOP AND TULD HIM ALL.
them sneeringly asked why a mere boy should be brought
forward to try to do what they, the most gallant and the
strongest Knights, hud been unable to do, but they soon
stopped smiling and sneering and began to frown. Arthur,
as he had previously done, walked easily up to the stone,
and grasping the sword by the hilt, pulled it out with as
little effort as if it were a weed in a garden."
'•That ain't always easy," said Mollie, who bad tried
weeding in her own little garden patch.
"No," said her father; "not always, but sometimes they
come up with scarcely an effort, and that, is the way the
sword cauie out of the stone as boon as Arthur grasped the
hilt,"
Jack chuckled. "You can bet on a boy to beat a man
ill a game o' stunts every time," In- said, proudly.
" Well, you can in many cases," said his father, with a
smile, "but the Knights did not like it any the better for
that. They were not used to playing games of stunts with
boys, and in this particular instance the prize was so great
a one that their auger ran very high, and they asked some
very embarrassing questions.
'"Who is this boy ?' asked some, and nobody was pre-
pared to answer the question. All Sir Ector knew was
that he had brought him up from a baby, and that he had
beeu a very good boy, but this was not enough for the
Knights. With the crown at stake, they wanted to be cer-
tain that his parents were people of high birth. They
didn't want the son of a stable-man to rule over them and
to sit ou the throne, and they grew so hitter about it that
to save trouble the Archbishop ordered another trial to be
held at Candlemas."
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"I <Wt think that was fair," said Mollie. « He'd won,
a, VI they'd onght to liave given him' the prize.
..Tn,;. "said her father. « He certaiiilj bad won it,bnt
the Archbishop fell that having won .1 once, he would
it a"ain. and it «as better I" wail.'
"SHe was all right" said Jack. « I think it wasn't quite
fair as M.illi.- says, lint it. was good business.
"Yes," said tlie Story-teller; "for, as you will
Arthur .li.ln't lose anything by it except time.
100.
Fl! \\K HOVVELL'S OWN ACCOUKT OF HIS ADVENTURE
IN A PRIVATE CAR.
BY WILLIAM DRYSDALE.
IT was 1ri a handsome private ear without any name that
I made the acc|iiaiiitanre of Frank Howell. He was
already in the ear when I boarded the train; and aa the
owner of tin- ear, who was also the owner of the railroad
we were riding over, was busy at the moment dictating
letters lo his private secretary in the little office at one
end, Frank and I were left alone together in the principal
room, and we soon lieeame acquainted. I was surprised to
see him there, fur although I had made frequent journeys
in the car, I had never seen any hoy in it before; but he
seemed very much at home and quite contented. He was
a handsome ho\ -or. rather, I should say he is a handsome
hoy. for this was only a few weeks ago — with dark bright
eyi-s and wavy brown hair, and a pleasant manner that
would, make almost any one take an interest in him at
once.
We soon fell into a little conversation, and I learned that
he was a Chicago boy, fourteen years old, and that he was
spending the winter will] his father and mother in the
Seminole Hotel, in Winter Park, Florida. This accounted
for his presence in that, neighborhood, for we were then
riding through one- of the central counties of Florida; but
it did not account for his presence in the private car, ami
•when I dropped a hint in that direction, he told me that
he had known the owner of the car for only about a week.
When we had reached this stage of our acquaintance, Mr.
H. 15. Plant, the owner both of the car and the railroad,
ci • out of his office and spoke to us. After shaking hands
w ilh me he introduced Frank Howell.
"He doesn't look like a dangerous boy, does he?" Mr.
Plant said, smilingly. "But he had hardly got down into
tliis country before he ran away with my car, so I thought
I had better take him along with uie to Jacksonville, for
fear he might run away with the whole railroad."
" Indeed I think it was the ear that ran away with me,
Mr. Plant," Frank broke in. ''Anyhow, I brought it back
again."
"He is the first person I have ever known," Mr. Plant
went on, "to travel about the country in a private car,
without a cent of money to buy anything to eat with.
You must tdi that story, Frank, while I finish my letters;
and try to tell it as well as you told it to me the other day."
"How far did you go with the car, Frank?" I asked,
•when we were left alone together again.
"About twenty-five hundred miles," he answered.
"What!"
"Twenty. ii\e hundred miles, they say it was. I'll tell
you about it," he replied.
I saw there was a story corning, and that Frank was
able to tell it well iu his own words; so I made uo further
i interruptions.
" Yon know, after you've seen the lakes at Winter Park,"
he began. " and the pine woods and the caged alligator, and
:i lew hundred orange groves, there isn't very much more
ioi ib, people to see, so they go down to the station about
tsi\ o'clock every evening to see the last mail come iu.
That brings through cars from the North — one sleeper
from New ^oik and one from Chicago, that meet in Jack-
sonville. I got into the habit of going to the station every
evening loo, and, of course. I soon got to know all the
sleepers by name. There wen' the Olivia, and the Tagns,
and the .Marion, ami perhaps a do/en in all, but only two
in any one Irani.
"Well, one e\<-niug I was in the crowd looking at the
passengers gel off. when I happened to see that there were
three big cars in the train, instead of two. The higgest.of
all, and the finest of all, was the last car in the train, and I
was sure I had never seen it before, so I pushed down the
platform lo see its name. Qiieerlyenongh.it didn't have,
aiij name at all: it just had the figures 'IHU ' painted in
gill letters on iis side. I looked in the window s. and saw-
that it was a great deal handsomer than any of the sleep-
ers. There were only two or three gentlemen in the car,
and they were sitting in big, comfortable arm -chairs in a
room that shone with mirrors and polished oak. There
w i i. ilowers on a table in the centre, and at one end a
couch that looked as soft as down. But I needn't describe
it to you. because it. was this very room, in lliis very car.
"It was only a glance I had before the train started, but
that was enough to show me that it was a private car, and
to make me wonder whether I should ever have a chance to
take a ride in one. I didn't suppose I should, at least, not
for a great many years. But you never can tell about
things, can you? After that the car seemed to be going
up or coming down every day or two, and I always looked
into it whenever I had an opportunity. One morning I
happened down by the station, and there- stood No. 100 on a
side track, with no engine, and nobody about it.
'• ' Here's my chance,' I thought to myself, 'to see the
finest car on the road'; and I went up to it, and walked all
around it, and climbed over the platforms, and saw just no-
thing at all, for all the shades were pulled down tight.
" ' That's too bad,' I was just saying to myself, or I guess
I must, have been saying it out loud. ' I do wish I could
see the inside of that ear'; and the minute I said it I heard
somebody alongside of me say :
"'Do you? Then come along with me, for I am going
into it.'
" I looked around, and there was a gentleman I often saw
in the hotel, and, of course, he ofteu saw me there.
" ' Oh !' said I ; ' can you get into it ?'
"'I think so,' said he, half laughing. '1 am the super-
intendent of the road.'
"He unlocked the door with a key, and took me in, and
that was the first time I ever set foot in this or any other
private car. It fairly took me oft' my feet to see how fine
it was. He showed me the office at the end, with its big
windows on three sides, and its soft sofa and velvet carpet
and rugs; and the two big state-rooms, each with its broad
double bed and its bath-room ; and this dining-room where
we're sitting, as big as the dining-room in a French flat, and
much handsomer; and the two 'sections' like a sleeper: and
another bath-room ; and the tiny baggage-room ; and at the
end of the car the kitchen, all stocked with copper kettles
and pans; and the refrigerator, and away up over that a
berth for the cook. My, but didn't it all look fine! You
see, it was the first time I was ever iu a private car ; I
wasn't so used to them then as I am now.
"I asked whose car it was, and the Superintendent said
it belonged to Mr. Plant, who owned the hotel I was stay-
ing iu and the other big hotel in Tampa, and was president
of that railroad and a dozen others, and two or three steam-
ship lines. No wonder he had a beautiful car all to him-
self, was it ? Well, I was just going to say that that was
the way I happened to get acquainted with the superin-
tendent, and it was through him that I happened to go
down to Tampa alone a few days afterwards to see the big
hotel and the steamships, because he was going down, and
he said he'd see me safe in the train to come back.
"You kuow how the trains start just back of the big
hotel in Tampa f Well, I was to take the 3.15traiu iu the
afternoon to come home, and I was therein good time; but
I didn't see anything of the superintendent at first. I saw
this car standing there, i hough, with its shades all down ;
but it was some ways down the track, and not coupled to
any train. The last car of my train was the parlor car,
622
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
and I got in that, for I had exactly fifty cents left to pay
my parlor-car fare with, besides my return ticket, of course.
In a minute or two the train began to back, and I saw the
conductor outside making signals to the engineer, so I
went to the rear door and looked out.
•• What do you think ? They were backing right down
to this car, and in a minute they had it coupled to my
train; and just as the coupling was made the superin-
tendent opened the door and (.'anie .out on the platform,
and as soon as lie saw me lie told me to come over then-.
"I was sure then that lie \vas going to ride somewhere
in this car, iind maybe he might, let me, ride with him a
little ways. Wasn't it tin1 luckiest thing in the world, I
thought, that 1 happened to be there just at the right
miiiiitcf? We both went inside, in I he little office at the
end where Mr. Plant is now; and the first thing the su-
perintendent said, said lie, ' I am going to take this car up
the road, and if you like yon can ride up to Winter Park
with me.'
" Well, sir, it was so sudden I didn't know for a minute
whether I stood on my feet, or my head. But the train
bewail to move oil', so I saw it was really true.
" ' Isn't Mr. Plant going to use it ?' I asked him — for I was
SO excited I hardly knew what I said.
"'Mr. Plant sailed for Jamaica this morning,' he an-
swered, 'and will not be back for two weeks. The car is
going up to New York now to bring Mrs. Plant and some of
her friends down. It has just been thoroughly cleaned
for her use, so I do not care to open it up much and let the
dust in ; but you can make yourself comfortable here in
the otiice while I look over some papers. I am only going
/is far as Lakeland myself, about thirty miles up the road;
but yon can go on to Winter Park in the car if you'll be
sure to slam the door when yon get out. It locks with a
spring lock.'
"Make myself comfortable! Well I should rather say
I could. I was as proud as a peacock. It was foolish, of
course, hut, you see, I'd never had a ride in a private car
hefore. I was sorry none of my friends had seen me start
off in it, and that none of them would be likely to see me
get out, for the train was not due at Winter Park till after
eight o'clock. It seemed jnst like being in a house, it went
so smooth and firm; and when people looked in the win-
dows at stations, I'd imagine they were wondering what
nabob that boy was, to be travelling in such style. And
then I'd think of having only fifty cents in my pocket, and
I'd have to laugh.
"It seemed just no time at all before we got to Lakeland,
where the superintendent left me. He told me to take a
nap on the sofa if I got sleepy, for I still had a four hours'
ride, and to be sure and slam the door when I got out.
Then 1 had the grand car all to myself, and wasn't I just
prouder than ever! I wanted to go all over it and look at
all the handsome things, but I wouldn't do it, because that
would be jnst like sneaking over anybody's house. I staid
right in the office, and pretty soon it began to grow dark',
for there was nobody to light the lamps in the car, and I
began to grow sleepy. So I spread out a newspaper for
my feet, and lay down on the sofa.
" Did you ever see anything as soft as these sofas ? It
was like floating in the air, and I imagined myself riding
on that magic carpet in the Arnhinii Xiglils. But there
was something lacking, as there always is. I was as hun-
gry as a hear, for I'd eaten nothing since morning. Then I
thought of the fifty cents in my pocket, and the buffet they
always have in the sleepers and parlor ears in Florida, and
how easy it would be to go into the next car and buy some
supper. But didn't I fasten back the catch of the door
carefully before I went out? Yon see, I'd have been only
an ordinary passenger if the door had locked after me, for
I couldn't have got back.
"The waiter in the parlor car looked at me a kind of
queer when I ordered my supper. ' Do you belong in this
ear ?' said he.
"'Oh no,' said I. 'I have a private ear in the rear.'
Well, sir, after that you'd have thought I was the President
of the United States from the way he waited on me. My
fifty cents didn't buy very much, but it was enough.
" In a few minutes I was back on my sofa in Xo. 100, with
the door locked. It was almost dark, and getting chilly,
but having a tine private car all to myself more than made
up for that. Jnst think of it! It was almost as though I
owned the car. Even the conductor didn't come in, for they
don't go into a railroad president's private car to ask for
tickets.
" I took a soft rug off the Hour and pulled it over me, and
thought I might as well take a nap. It would l>c safe to
sleep for an hour, or even two, and I was tired with mv da\ "s
travel. ( H' course I was asleep in no time. My, how good
it felt ! — a private car all to myself, soft, sofa to sleep on,
nobody to bother me.
•• Suddenly something woke me up. I didn't know where
1 \\ as at first, hut it came back to me in a minute, and I was
awfully cold. A little scared, too, for if I had slept any
longer I might have been eairied past Winter Park, and a
prel ty thing that would have been. I jumped up and lo.ik-
ed out, but it was too dark to see anything much. We were
running very slow, ami I thought by the way things look-
ed we were just, getting into a station. So I sat down by
the window and watched, and, sure enough, we were just
about to stop. When we did stop, my car stood right square
in tVont of the1 bay-window of a station. And what do yon
think I saw? Well, sir, it was enough to make a boy's hair
turn gray. There was a big sign on the front of the build-
ing, WAYCROSS; and the clock inside the window said
4.35.
"Then 1 knew I was in for it; for Waycross, you know,
is in Georgia, about half-way between Jacksonville and
Savannah, and nearly three hundred miles above Winter
Park. Instead of taking a little nap, I had slept for eight
or nine hours, and I was three hundred miles away from
my friends, without a cent in my pocket. My tirst thought
was to get out, but while I had my hand on the door-knob
I thought better of it. What would become of me if I got
out ? I had no money to go home with — not even a cent
to telegraph to my folks with. Go to the conductor, do
you say? You see, we were on an entirely different rail-
road from the one we started on, and had a different con-
ductor, of course. This one wouldn't know anything about
me. and probably would not believe my story.
"It was a pretty tough place, wasn't it? Private car,
soft, sofa, fine rugs, great style, and not a cent of money.
While I was trying to make up my mind what to do, the
train started. But that was all right; for somehow I
couldn't get it out of my head that the best tiling I could
do was to stick to the car. Yon see, I figured it this way:
when I didn't come home at nine o'clock, they'd begin to
worry about me. They'd telegraph to the superintendent,
and he'd understand how it was, and telegraph along the
line, ami have me found and sent home.
" Had it all reasoned out tine, didn't I? And it would
have turned out so, only for one thing. The superintend-
ent drove out in the country somewhere from Lakeland,
where he couldn't be reached by telegraph, and he didn't,
get back to Winter Park for two days. Nobody else knew
that I was in this car. Wasn't that a fix for yon ?
" But I'm getting ahead of my story. I'd made up my
mind to stick to the car, if I had to ride all the way to
New York. But of course my folks and the superintendent,
would find me long before that. You sec-, I've read in the
papers how lost hoys in New York are taken care of by
the police, and their friends telegraphed to. But I had a
better plan than that to try first, if it came to the worst,'
I'd go to a good hotel and get them to telegraph, and my
father would send on money for me. The summer clothes
I wore would be some proof of my coming from Florida.
You see, I had to think out every little point.
"Well, I'll not tire you with telling yon,how I rode on
and on and on, and how nobody came into the car after me.
Yon know the road, of course. We were in Savannah, and
then we were in Charleston, and in Wilmington; but no-
body inquired for me. I may as well own up that. I was
pretty well frightened when night came on again. I kept
the door locked, of course, and most all the shades down,
for somehow I didn't care much about looking at tho
scenery.
623
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
" WELL, SIR, IT WAS ENOUGH TO MAKE A BOY'S HAIR TURN GRAY.
"But I had to break my rule about not going through
the car, for by night I was almost starved. There must be
something to eat in the kitchen, I thought; and I went
and looked. Not a thing there! Closets empty, and all
scrubbed out clean, refrigerator open and empty, not so
much anywhere as a scrap of bread. I'd have eaten some,
you know, if there'd been any there — for what would a
railroad president can- fur a slice of bread when a fellow-
was hungry? That made me kind of desperate, and I
tried the dining-room — this room. Well, sir, iu the closet
under that, cabinet in the corner I found a big earthenware
.jar half full of Boston water-crackers — those fearfully hard
ones, you know, lint didn't they taste good, though ! I felt
kind of mraii about eating them, but it was all right —
Mr. Plant says it was, and he's sorry I didn't tiud a porter-
hoiise strnk t here.
"Lying down that second night was the worst time of
all. Did I cry, you say? Yes, sir, I did cry. Mind you,
I'm only fourteen, and a bigger boy than that would have
cried. Theu sometimes I laughed, too. When. I began to
wonder whether I was a nabob travelling in a private car,
or a tramp looking for a supper, that made me laugh. It,
was frightfully dark, and of course I did not dare light a
lamp. It was cold, too ; but I managed that with more
rugs. There were plenty of rugs. By that time I was
nearly a thousand miles away from my friends, and nobody
seemed to be making any inquiries about me. But I knew
that was nonsense, for do you think my mother wouldn't
hunt me? When I thought of how she must be worrying
about me, it made me cry again, and I cried myself to sleep.
The next thing I knew somebody was shaking me by the
shoulder.
"'Wake up, young man!' the somebody was saying.
'Are \ou Frank Unwell .''
" ' Yes, sir,' saiil 1, as soon as I got my senses.
"II was a tall vonm; gentleman, as 1 could see by the.
llj;ht through the w indo\v, and the train was standing still.
"'Then come aloni; with me,' said he. 'It's half past
five iii the morning, and this is Washington. You've only
about twelve minutes to eat your breakfast in.'
" Then I knew I'd been found, and do you know it almost
took away my strength. We were in the railway restau-
rant, and I was eating like a starving man before 1 had a
chance to ask any questions, and then it was the gentle-
man w ho diil the asking.
"• lla\e \ou come far?' said he.
"'Come far!' said I; '1
was carried past Winter
Park. Didn't you know f
" ' I didn't know any-
thing about it,' said he.
'I'm just obeying orders.
I got this telegram only
about two hours ago.' And
he laid on the table a tele-
gram which read:
" ' To FRED ROBUN,
Washington.
" 'Mrs. Plant desires yon
to tiud Frank Howell, a boy
probably coming North in
her car in Train 14. See
that he has breakfast and
anything else he wants,
and send him on to New
York. Telegraph Seminole
Hotel as soon as fouud.
" ' H. S. HAINES,
Vice-President.'
" 'That's all right, then,'
said I. ' Somebody's found
me ; I don't know who it is.'
'"All right!' said he; 'I
should say it was. You're
the luckiest boy in the
country if Mrs. Plant is,
looking after yon. There goes the bell. Now is there any-
thing more I can do for you ?'
"I told him not a thing more, and he said he would tele-
graph to iny father, and that of course somebody would
meet me in New York. Well, sir, it was a different ride
after that, though the car got colder all the time. I pulled
up all the shades .and made things look cheerful, and un-
locked the door, for I wasn't afraid any longer of being put
out. And somebody did meet me. It was a man in livery,
and he had a warm overcoat for me, and took me across the
ferry, and put me in a beautiful coach with two horses, and
in a few minutes I was in one of the finest houses I ever saw
in my life, ami a beautiful lady was stroking my head.
" ' Why, you poor child,' Mrs. Plant said (for the lady was
Mrs. riant ). • w bat a fright you must have had ! But your
troubles are over now, for I shall take you back with me to
Florida to-morrow. I was so afraid'yon would be starving
in the car, as it was all cleaned out.'
" I told her about the crackers I found, and that made
her laugh. After a while I asked her how she had found
me out, and why my folks had not hunted me up.
" ' Hunted you up !' she repeated. 'Why, child, we had the
whole line turned upside down looking for you. The whole
1 rouble was that the superintendent did not get back to
Winter Park till late last night, and no one else knew that
you were iu my car. But as soon as he returned he tele-
graphed the New York office what had happened, and they
sent word to me. It was after midnight then, and Wash-
ington was the first place I could catch the car.'
"Say, did you ever see such a kind lady as Mrs. Plant?
She. said I was her guest, because it was her car had carried
me oft'; and that night she took me to the opera, and the
next day we started back for Florida. We didn't live on
crackers on this way down, either, / tell you ; nor the car
wasn't cold or dark. I didn't find out till after I got back
that Mrs. Plant thought my folks would be so worried that
she'd telegraphed to a dozen of the agents to find me, and
had told them all ' the boy is to be treated as my guest, wher-
ever found.' And you see how kind Mr. Plant was about it
after he not home. This is the second time he has had me
out to ride with him. Oh, it's jolly, being carried away in
a president's (private ear — after you're found.
11 Some of the boys at the hotel say I was a chump not to
tell the conductor after I found I was carried past, and
have him send me home. But was I ? Well, I rather think
uot. They're jealous, that's all."
624
A NAUTICAL
BALLOON.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
IT was blowing fresh from the eastward and southward,
and the Alice Tree, under two lower topsails, spanker,
and a bit of head-sail, was roaring along on a taut bowline,
and looking well up toward her course. That was as near-
ly due east as a good compass, a cool hand at the wheel,
and an honest desire to cross the fiftieth meridian in lat-
itude 40° 30' could make it. All the way from Sandy Hook
Light-ship the stanch ship had leaned to a soldier's wind till
the mid-watch of this day, and even now, under shortened
canvas and with weather clews a-tremble,she was making
eight knots .in hour on her great circle track. The wind
boomed out of the arching, creamy hollows of the two top-
sails, and hummed through the tense shrouds and back-
stays.
Out forward the sweeping curve of the clipper bow
swung swiftly upward, with bobstay and martingale drip-
ping with sparkling brine, and again plunged down with a
thunderous roar and a boiling of milk-white foam up to the
hawse-holes. Ever and anon a hissing shower of iridescent-
spray would hurtle across the forecastle deck, aud lose it-
self iu the smother of yeasty froth that blew along the lee
rail.
Up to windward the sea hardened itself against the
luminous horizon in a steel-blue field of cotton- tufted
ridges, leaping and falling in wide unrest. Overhead sheets
of wreathing vapor rushed across the dense blue sky, aud
iu and out of the rifts the dazzling white sun shot wildly
as if in meteoric llight. Captain Elias Joyce leaned against
the weather rail of his poop deck, aud looked contented.
" It '11 blow harder before it blows easier, Mr. Bolles," he
said to his mate, " but it '11 go to the sont-h'ard."
"Ay, ay, sir," said the mate. "Aud I reckon we'll do
very well as we are."
"Yes, let well enough alone," said the
Captain. "Come, gentlemen, let's go to
dinner."
The gentlemen were Josepli and Henry
Browusou, the twin sons of the owner of
the ship. They were making this voyage
on a sailing-ship for health and recreation
after a hard struggle with their final ex-
aminations at college. They were well
used to the sea, aud had served an appren-
ticeship in many a hearty dash around
Brentons Heef Light-ship aud the Block
Island buoy. They were enjoying every
minute of their voyage, but they had yet
one great desire to gratify. They wished
to get the Captain to spin them a yarn of
some strange experience at sea. Up to
the present time he had refused to accept
their hints. But they had not yet aban-
doned hope. At the dinner table they
renewed the attack, but without result.
When the meal was ended, the Captain
filled a pipe, aud the conversation drifted
in various channels. Henry spoke of col-
lege celebrations and the foolishness of
sending up fire- balloons. The Captain
took the pipe out of his mouth, blew a,
big cloud of smoke, aud said, reflectively :
"Well, I don't know. I remember once
when a fire-balloon turned out to be a
mighty useful thiug at sea."
" I'd like to know how," said Joseph.
" Well, if you two young gentlemen
won't be bored by hearing a sea yarn, I'll
just spin it for you."
The two young men looked at one an-
other. Bored .' Well, that was good, af-
ter all their clever hints.
"It was a matter of thirty years ago,''
began the Captain, " when I was only a
boy, aud was making a voyage much as
you gentlemen are, for the pleasure of it.
My father, who was a sea captain, was part owner iu the
Ellen Burgee, aud he thought it would be a good thing for
me to go out aud sniff salt air and see blue water. The
Elli'ii tlnri/i-r was an old-fashioned ship, with long single
topsails, a mackerel - head bow, and tumble - home sides.
Her stern was rounded out in a big arch, and she had
quarter galleries like a liue-of-battle ship. She was a
roaring good sailer, though, and her skipper was likely to
use had language if he caught her doing anything under
eight knots in a breath of air. She had a handsome cabin,
too, had the Elli'ii Bui'gee, and when the swinging lamp was
shedding its soft yellow light over the polished mahogany
table, the cushioned lockers, the rugs, and the white and
gold paint, it looked like the owner's saloon in a modern
schooner yacht. I suppose I didn't know at that time how
comfortable I was, but, looking back now, I can't say that I
was ever any better off on shipboard.
" The Ellen Burgee was bound from New York for Table
Bay. It's not necessary to go into any account of her cargo,
seeing that it has uot anything to do with this story, aud
that it never arrived at its port of destination, anyhow, but
went to feed fishes. However, that's running ahead of my
reckoning, so I'll just heave to and drift back. We passed
Saudy Hook with a fair wind and all kites flying. We didn't
take a tug every time we weut to sea iu those days, but
used to lie iu the Horseshoe for a favoring breeze. I don't
kuow that there's anything serious to tell you about, ex-
cept that we stopped at Bermuda for three days, aud I had
my first look at those happy islands. What's more to tin-
point is that a week later, in latitude 18° 15' N., lougitude
5f>- :((•' W., we sighted a derelict brig. She was water-
logged ami abandoned ; but our old mail thought there
THE CREW GAVE THREE HEARTY CHEERS AS THE BALLOON AROSE.
C'25
HARPER'S BOUND TABLE
might he something almnrcl lic-r worth saving, and so, as t he
wind was very light, ami \\ e couldn't lose much by backing
oin I'mc-topsail \ ard I'm1 a time-, lie sent a linal to her. The
MI mid matr went in it, and came back with a cargo of ti---
siir-]iai>cr. ink. pel is, a ml a l'r\\ other loose things he'd picked
up in her cabin. The tissue-paper, he said, would do for
the boy- mi' — to ]>lay with. 1 laughed at him at the- lime,
fur I didn'l see what use the tissue-paper would be to me.
Jiut I made a fire-ballooii ,mt of it afterwards, and we were
all pretty glad that we had it aboard.
" We were getting down toward the equator when it fell
a dead Mat calm. I never saw sneli a calm before or since,
except once. The sea looked like gray oil, its surface was so
s ith and glassy. But out, of the southwest there came
a swell that kei.tgrov.iug bigger and bigger and bigger.
Tin-re was not a breath of wind stirring, and the whoo,
who... whoo of the rush of air in the rigging as the ship
rolled sounded like the whistling of some ghostly fog siren.
-And how she did roll! Every spar and timber in her
groaued and squeaked as if in mortal pain. Pots and
dishes rattled and banged in the galley, and the whole in-
terim- of the. ship was tilled with strange unaccountable
noises. Up above the sky was a sort of dull yellow, and
the suu looked as if it were behind smoked glass. The old
man looked at the barometer, and decided that \\e were in
for a gale of wind. So he had the ship made snug under
close-reefed main-topsail, a storm jib, and a rag of spanker.
In those clothes she was ready I'or anything that might
come along. We lay there rolling in that mad fashion un-
til nearly midnight, and. boy as I was, I thought I should
go insane with the deadly, inexorable, heartless swa\iug
of the helpless fabric. I don't believe any man oxeepi a
hardened old sailor — and riot many of them — could keep
this side of lunacy if he were becalmed under au equatorial
sun in a swell like that for twenty-six hours.
" llowever.it ended all of a sudden about midnight. I
\\ as ill my bunk, but I couldn't sleep because of the thump-
ing of the cabin-doors on their hinges. I heard a man come
lumbering down to call the Captain, and I slipped out of
bed and into my clothes. I reached the deck in time' to
see a sudden glitter of stars in the northwestern horizon,
and to feel a splash of cold wind on my cheek. The next
instant the whole air above me was tilled with a series
of wild yells, as if a million souls were in agony. The gale
had struck us, ami fur an instant I felt as if my breath were
driven back into my lungs, so great was the pressure of the
wind in my face. The ship heeled over till her lee scup-
pers ran two feet deep in bubbling water.
"'Down with your helm! Hard down!' shouted the
Captain.
"Slowly the, vessel's head came up, and she righted her-
self. She was now close-hauled, and she began to thresh
out to windward with a fearful bellowing of the wind out
of the straining main-topsail. There was no sea yet: on
the contrary, the terrific force of the wind cut down the
great swells, and blew Ihe ocean out flat in a sheet of
ghostly foam. Hut that did not. last long. The sea began
to inn. and the KUi n liiiriin began to rear and plunge over
the ragged crests, and to thunder down into the black hol-
lows thai looked like- clefts extending to the bottom of the
ocean. At daybreak a mad. a crazy sea presented itself to
the sight. The effect of t he gale blowing at right angles to
Ihe original swell was to pile up the billows in great
« i it h ing pyramidal masses. The ship la bored and groaned
fearfully. Tons of water broke over the forecastle deck,
and the Captain was alarmed lest the deck seams should
open. At six bells iii the morning watch the main-topsail
blc\\ nut of the bolt-ropes with a report like, a gun's, and
went .swirling a« a\ into the flying spooudrift down on our
lee quarter. A slay-sail was set to do the main-topsail's
work, but nolhing would prevent, the ship from falling so
far oil' at times that t In- seas broke on her decks in masses.
All day Ion; she was driven by the wind, and pounded by
Ihe seas. Our drift was something frightful, but it wa's
not much out of our course. At four belU in the first
watch, ten o'clock at riiglit— but I forget you know all the
bells — tin- carpenter reported a foot of water in the hold.
Then began the heart-breaking business of workin><- the
pumps. All night long I heard the weary clank, clank,
under-running, as it were, the yelling of the wind, the roar-
ing of the sea. and the groaning of the stricken ship. At
daylight the gale broke, and a few hours later there was
oul\ a gigantic swell to tell the story of the storm. But
the E1I< ii liiirijiT had received her death warrant. She was
slowly tilling under us in spite of all that we could do.
The Captain gave orders to prepare to abandon ship. The
crew was at work at this when a new idea seemed to strike
the skipper.
"'We can't be many miles from St. Paul's Rocks,' he
said ; aud he set to work to make some calculations. The
result was that a man was sent to the masthead to look for
the rocks, sail was made on the ship, and the pumps were
manned again. St. Paul's Rocks, you must know, are a
small cluster of rocky projections, rising at the highest
point about sixty feet above the sea. They are in latitude
56' N., longitude 29° 20' W., and our old man figured that
we wereu't over fifteen miles away from them. Half au
hour later the mast-head lookout sighted the rocks, and a
little later we sighted them from the decks.
" ' My idea is,' said the Captain to the mate, ' to run the
ship on the rocks. That will enable us to save all our dun-
nage aud all the boats, aud give us a breathing-spell to de-
cide what's the next best move.'
" The mate agreed that it was a great scheme. The Cap-
tain went aloft to pick out a place to run the ship ashore.
He found a good spot where her bow would wedge up ou
the rocks, so that she would not slip off aud siuk, and he
headed her for it. She struck pretty hard, and the foretop-
gallant-mast went by the board, taking the flying jib-boom
along with it; but we did not mind that, for we found that
the ship had taken the ground for nearly half her length,
and was in what you might call a mighty comfortable berth
for a sinking craft. Two of our boats were smashed by the
falling spars, but the long-boat was all right, and that was
what the Captain counted on to take us off the rocks.
"Now the nearest laud to St. Paul's Rocks is the north-
eastern extremity of Brazil, Cape St. Roque, and that's
something over 500 good sea miles away. I was only a
small boy, but I had sense enough to know that a voyage
of that length in a ship's boat would be a desperate under-
taking, and even if successful, sure to embrace terrible hard-
ship aud exposure. The Captain and the mate knew it,
too, and they decided to remain right where they were for
a few days on the chance of sighting a passing ship. That
was a mighty poor chance, too, for very few vessels pass
within sighting distance of St. Paul's Rocks. The great
circle track from England to the Cape of Good Hope lies
I .el \\ ecu fifty and sixty miles to the westward of them, and
vessels are more likely to deviate to the westward of the
track than to the eastward. Every sensible navigator
gives those rocks a wide berth, anyhow. It was when T
heard the Captain aud the mate talking those matters over
that I conceived my great fire-balloon scheme. I didn't
say a word, but fished out a lot of stout, wire that was
aboard the ship, got my stock of tissue-paper together, and
sel aiioiit making one of the biggest fire-balloons ou record.
It was a whopper, and no mistake, for, you see, I wanted it
to have carrying ; and travelling power. When I had it fin-
ished, I secured a stout bottle. Then I wrote this brief and
direct message on a piece of brown paper:
"The ship Kllni /;«/•,/<•(• is on St. Paul's Rocks. All
hands safe and \\cll. but would like to get away.'
"I put that iu the bottle and corked it. up tight. Then
with a stiff piece of wire and a square of red bunting I made
a Hag. which I stuck up on top of the cork. Next I made
a wire bridle, and swung the bottle below the neck of the
balloon, ao far down that the flag could not catch fire. I
ballasted the bottom of the bottle first, and experimented
with it so that it would float upright, even with the weight
of wire hanging to it. The Captain saw me at work, aud
said.
" ' What are you up to, Elias V
'"Oh, 'I said, 'I'm getting up a balloon ascension to kill
time.'
626
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"That night, as luck would Lave it, there was a nice
gentle southeasterly breeze, and I made ready to send up
my balloon. The Captain and the crew gathered around
me ami chatted me a little, but I didu't rniud that.
" ' What's the bottle for ?' asked the mate.
" 'Just for a sort of ballast,' I answered.
'' ' What do you have the flag for ?' asked one of the men.
" ' Oh, for instance,' I answered, in school-boy fashiou.
" I now lighted the flare in the neck of my balloon, and
had the pleasure of seeing my contrivance slowly but surely
inflated with the heated air. In good time it was ready to
rise, and as I released it, to my intense satisfaction it gently
rose toward the sky, carrying the bottle with it.
" ' Hooray for the Fourth o' July !' cried one of the sailors,
and the crew gave three hearty cheers.
"Then they all stood about, watching it as it soared
away into the nor'west like a comet.
'"If some ship sights that thing,' said one old fellow,
'she'll think a picnic has got lost.'
" ' By the great hook block !' exclaimed the mate, ' maybe
they'll hunt around and timl us.'
"'If that should happen,' said the Captain, 'it would
turn out that your sport paid, Elias.'
" ' Yes, sir,' said I, smiling, and rubbing my hands behind
my back.
•' Well, we're pretty near the end of this yarn now, gentle-
men. I watched that tire-balloon till it faded out of sight
in the nor'west, and then I turned iu and dreamed all night
about ships picking up bottles with messages in them, ami
saving shipwrecked crews. And the next day I did no-
thing but go aloft and look for a sail, but not one hove in
sight. The following day I did the same thing, and that
viniit I think I cried a little because no vessel appeared.
On the third day I didn't go aloft till after breakfast, and
then I nearly burst niy luugs screaming, 'Sail ho!' Sure
enough, there was a vessel about twenty miles oft' to the
nor'west. The Captain had a big lire started on the rocks,
and sent a good column of smoke into the air. The vessel
rose, and iu a couple of hours we saw plainly that she was
heading right for us. Maybe we didu't all dance for joy!
In another hour she hove to abreast of the rocks and sent
a boat. The officer iu charge of it stepped out, and hold-
ing up my bottle with a tangled mass of wire and pulp, said,
" ' How did you get this thing out there .''
" ' Out where ?' demanded our Captain.
•• • We picked it up forty miles nor'west of you.'
" ' Hurrah for my tire-balloon !' I cried. ' And was the
message all right ?'
" ' Of course. Ain't we here ?'
" And he handed my message to our Captain, who threw
his arms around me, and exclaimed : ,
•••You little angel! You'll be a sailor yourself some
day.'
" And sure enough," said Captain Elias Joyce, rising from
the table, "he told the living truth.''
THE
PUDDING!
This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Yonne Women,
be plensed to unswer any question on the subject so far as possible. Col
address Editor.
ind the Editor will
•espondeDts should
IF I were you I would make up my mind, once for all,
never to talk about ailments. A headache or neural-
gia or a cough is hard enough to bear iu one's own case:
there is no need of troubling other people about it. Among
so many girls there are no doubt those who are not always
well, and there may be some who have to suffer a great
deal of pain, but the, pain must he kept in its place, which
is in the background, not the forefront of conversation.
self. The mistake often made by invalids is that their
world being narrowed by confinement to their rooms or by
the care their illness makes necessary, they fancy that
their aches and pains, the medicines they have to take,
and the diet they are obliged to be contented with are as
important to other people as to themselves. This is a
point to guard against. Let nothing about liniments and
pills and prescriptions creep into your talk, for though you
are an invalid to-day, you expect to be well to-morrow or
next week, and illness is only temporary, while health is
the rule, and the state to look forward to with eagerness
ami hope.
IT is worth while for us all, eveu when suffering pain, to
refrain from frowning and wrinkling up our faces, and say-
ing impatient words. Every passing thought and feeling
•write themselves upon the countenance, and the young girl
is making day by day not only the woman she will be iu
character later on, but the woman she will be- iu looks.
Handsome or plain, agreeable or the opposite, the woman
of forty is dependent for her looks on the girl of fourteen.
You owe an amount of thought and consideration to the
woman you are going to be, and the friends who will love
her, and so you must not let needless lines and furrows
come to your pretty brows, but keep your foreheads smooth,
and do not draw your lips down at the corners, nor go
about looking unhappy. It is possible, even when bearing
much pain, to wear a tranquil expression if one will, but
remember that the tranquil mind in the end can conquer
pain.
Cnossixi; TOWN the other day in haste to catch a train,
the horse-car was three times blocked by great vans which
stood upon the track. The van-drivers appeared to be un-
loading their goods iu a very leisurely manner ; to us in the
car, with the precious minutes slipping away like grains
of sand in the hour-glass, they seemed exceedingly slow
and unhurried. I looked about on my fellow-passengers.
Some had flushed and angry faces, some could not sit still,
but tapped the floor with their feet, and uttered exclama-
tions, and looked at their watches. One or two stepped out
with their hags and walked hastily onward. But a dear
old lady in the corner of the car was a pattern of sweetness
and amiability, and I heard her observe to her neighbor,
•• We will probably lose our train, but at this time of the
day there are trains every half-hour, and it's never well
to be put out by little accidents of this sort." She had the
right philosophy.
THROUGH life when little things go wrong it will be wise
to accept the situation without fretting, and by maintain-
ing composure, you will often be able to set them right
again.
MINA K. asks whether it is proper to allow a friend whom
she happens to meet in a public conveyance to pay her car
fare and ferriage. As a rule it is not proper. The meet-
ing is an incident, and does not affect the relative positions
of either friend. Each should pay for herself, precisely as
if she had not met the other. Of course, this rule is equal-
ly and perhaps more imperative when a girl happens to
meet a man whom she knows, her friend or her brother's
chum. He should not offer to pay for her, nor should she
accept the offer if he make it. The only exceptions to this
rule are such as commouseuse indicate. A girl will not
make a fuss nor quarrel about a matter of five cents with
an elderly acquaintance, who might easily be her father or
mother. Generally speaking, however, each person pays
her own way, except, when in company with others by in-
vitation, and where she is the guest of her entertainer, who
does not permit her to be at expense when sight-seeing or
jaunting about.
TALK always of pleasant things, if you can, and of what
is interesting to others rather than of what concerns your-
C27
GREAT STATE PAPERS.
OUR LAWS AND PROCLAMATIONS.
P,Y HKXRY CLEMENT HOI.MES
FATKF.K." said TIIV fonrteen-j car -old son. " Trd Nichols
dn hired to-day'that In- had tlic Wilson tariff liill in
his pocket, lie- sa'ul Mr. Wilson gave it to him to take to
Ted's lather, \\lici is also from West Virginia, yon know, to
reai Land sa\ u hat hr thought ol' it.1
My son's tone had in it both increilnlity and interest, and
so 1 replied :
"I thought yon had lived long enough in Washington
not to l.e surprised at anything. Did not Senator Maybee
THE "McKIXLEY" TARIFF LAW-TITLE PACK
read his speech to us the other evening, before he had de-
livered it in the. Senate? And did we not, in the corridor
of the State Department, recently, meet the original Consti-
tution of the United States coming down the granite staircase
three steps at a bound ? Yon and I helped pick up the hits
of glass Ij'roin the broken frame, which our friend Coehraue
had dropped, greatly to his alarm, in carrying it from a
closet to the library.
" It would be quite possible for Ted Nichols, or any other
lad. to have the Wilson tarift'bill in bis pocket, provided he
tool; it at the right time. It' Mr. Wilson should give it to
jon to carry to your father for examination, while your
father's opinion was wanted regarding a proposed change,
j'ou could readily carry it in your empty lunch-basket. But
if he waited until his bill became a law, yon would need to
lie pretty big and prettj- strong to earn' it far.
" The Wilson, McKinley, and all tariff hills, the silver bill,
on the authority of which the silver dollar in your pocket
v as coined, the anti - Chinese, and all
similar laws of the United States. ha\e,
in their early stages, half a dozen dif-
ferent forms, but when engrossed and
.signed they have one unchangeable
form that has obtained ever since the
lirst law was passed by the First Con-
gress.
"I remember having seen in one of
your Ivoiind Table puzzles a question
about the • Father of the Greenback.'
The first draught of the law, which gave
Mr. Chase this nickname, was written by
Congressman Spalding, of the Buffalo,
Ne\\ York, district, on both sides of
four sheets of common legal cap paper.
Mr. Chase then made some changes in
it. using red ink. President Lincoln
suggested some additional changes,
making his notes on a slip of paper,
which he pinned to one of the sin THE
" But that was before the day of type-writing machines.
Nowadays lirst draughts of most bills are prepared on type-
writers.' In this form a bill is introduced into Congress,
read by the clerk by title, :i number is given to it, and it is
re lei red to the committee having in charge the business to
which it relates. Once in committee, it is ordered printed,
and the first draught, often bearing the compositor's marks,
may be returned to the author of the measure as a souve-
nir. At least the first draught of the legal-tender act,
bearing Mr. Chase's and Mr. Lincoln's sug-
gestions about changes, was returned to
Mr. Spaldiug, and by him kindly .shown to
me.
" Great measures, such as the Wilson,
the McKinley, and the seigniorage bills,
are changed many times before they are
[iassc'd by ( 'ongress, and each change means
new printed copies. Some of these copies
are printed on paper about the size of a
HARPER'S UurxD TABLE leaf. The type
is very large, and the lines are very wide
apart and numbered. Other printed cop-
ies are in the form of a pamphlet, in order
that they may be mailed to friends of the
member whose measure it is, and to men
whose business is likely to be affected.
"Only a very small fraction of the bills
that reach the pamphlet stage are ever
filially passed and become laws. But even
this small fraction is large enough to fill
many shelves in the State Department,
where originals of all laws are kept. The
originals are engrossed on parchment that is fourteen 1>\
nineteen inches in size, and bound into book form. The
penmanship is coarse, but very regular, and all of the sig-
natures are originals, not copies, because this form of the
law is the one that all copies must conform to — the one
that the President of the United States is sworn to
execute.
"But let Die tell you just, how the Sherman silver-purchase
law looks. You remember this law. Or at least you rec-
ollect how Congress sat in extra session for several months
of 1893 in order to repeal one clause of it. At the top of
the large parchment sheet there is a printed heading :
' FIFTY-FIRST CONGRESS OF THE UNITED STATES,
AT ITS FIRST SESSION,
Begun and Held in the City of Washington,' etc.
" In the middle of the line are these words,
A OST ACT .
MoKIXLEY '
628
TARIFF LAW-LAST PAGE WITH SIGNATURES.
HARPER'S ROUND TAJiLE
THE "SHERMAN" .SILVER LAW— TITLE PAGE.
"Immediately thereafter follows tlic writing, winch ex-
tends in a single line across the entire page. It describes
the bill tlnis, ' Directing the, purchase of silver bullion, anil
the issue of Treasury notes thereon, anil for other purposes.'
There is a space, and then follows the enacting clause, ' Be
it eiiacted by the Senate anil House of Representatives,'
etc. The text of the law, written in this large hand, tills
two and a half pages, the right-band page containing the
text, and the left-hand page being blank. Around the edge
of both written and unwritten pages is a pale red line or
harder rule.
•'At the head of the fiisfc sheet, and written over the
printed title, appears the name 'Kennedy,' carelessly
written with a blue pencil, and the initials ' C. 13. F.'
scrawled across the top iu red. These are the attests of
the Representative and Senator, respectively, who examined
this engrossed copy of the law before it had been sent to
the President for his signature, to make certain that the
engrossing clerk had committed no errors, and that this
original was the same as the form that passed Con-
gress.
" At about the middle of the third page are the signatures
of the presiding officers of the (Senate and House. Vice-
President Morton did not sign the original Sherman silver-
pureliase law on behalf of the Senate, bnt Speaker Reed
did on behalf of the House. Senator Ingalls, as President
jini. /cm. of the Senate, signed on behalf of that body, and
when he had affixed his name he thoughtfully noted in the
margin the hour of the day — '12.37 P.M.' The signature
of President Harrison comes last, and is
at the lower left-hand side of the paper.
"The original McKinley tariff law is
written on parchment similar to that of
the Sherman law, and like it, it is bound
into a big book that contains the origi-
nal documents of many other laws. It
lills sixty-three of these large parchment
sheets, and the engrossing of it was done
by three different clerks. The title of t lie
bill is, 'An Act to Reduce the Revenues
and to Equalize Duties.' It is attested
iu the same manner as the Sherman law,
and signed by Speaker Reed, Vice-Presi-
dent Morton, and President Harrison.
The Wilson bill, which supplants the
McKinley bill, fills about as many pages
of the heavy unruled parchment, which,
by-the-way, we send to England to buy.
The Wilson bill mentions almost every
article of commerce that one can think
of, grouping similar things into para-
graphs, and naming the duties that shall
be paid upon each. There is a long list
of articles on which there is no duty. THE "SHERMAN
" Proclamations by the President of the
United States have maintained one form
since the foundation of the government.
The original Emancipation Proclamation
issued by President Lincoln is written
upon very heavy white unruled paper that
is folded once. The fold is at the left,
like a sheet of four-paged letter-paper,
and each page is ten by fourteen inches in
size. It begins, as do all Presidential
proclamations, 'By the President of the
United States of America — A Proclama-
tion.'
The first line is written with a
pen in a bold hand, and the words, ' A
Proclamation,' form a line of them-
selves — printing characters, although
executed with a pen. It proclaims that
on a certain date, and under certain con-
ditions, a race is free from bondage, but
it, nowhere calls itself an 'Emancipation
Proclamation.' That is a popular name
given to this, one of the most famous of
state papers. The text is in the hand-
writing of Secretary Seward — a hand that was strikingly
like that of Mr. Lincoln.
•• Thanksgiving proclamations, which you see reprinted in
the newspapers, are prepared in the same form. The one
issued by President Cleveland last autumn tills only two
pages.
Our reciprocity treaty with the Brazil Republic is similar
to other treaties, with original and exchange copies, and is
written in English and Spanish. The document proclaim-
ing it begins by quoting from the McKinley law, by which
it is authorized, and recites, that we, having agreed to let in
free of duty sugar, coffee, molasses, and hides from Biazil,
are entitled to send to Brazil, and have admitted to that
country free of duty, a long line of products of the United
States.
" At the bottom of the third page — proclamations, unlike
laws, are written on both sides of the paper — is the Great
Seal of the United States, and near this seal is the
signature of President Harrison, preceded by the words,
' By the President.' At the left, and just beneath the
great seal, is the signature of the Secretary of State,
James G. Elaine.
" Mr. 131aiue's writing, like Mr. Cleveland's, was small,
regular, and easily mistaken for a feminine one. His sig-
nature to this reciprocity proclamation is so small and ef-
feminate that it does not seem to stand for the stalwart
man who wrote it. Even less does President Cleve-
land's womanlike signature hint the giant iu stature that
he is."
SILVER LAW— LAST PAGE WITH SIGNATURES.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Thi. I',ririi,i..,,t is c hi.-t.'.l 1,1 the,,,i,Ti~t.irsi,in,|, ,ui,| Coin Collecton, and the Edllnr
will V fl-asc,! M -.ii-«>r iinv -pi. -n. ,11 .Hi these sul.jecu so far as possible. Corres] li-nt-
should atldro-s Kililor Stam|> llf|uirunfiit.
LAST WEKK we printed an illustration of the different
kinds of perforations. This week we illustrate the
scale of regular perforations. If you will look at your U. S.
stamps of the 1857 issue you will see
that the scale is ''perforated 15." The
1C Baden stamps of l-l>4 are •• perforated
10." To nnd the scale take the stamp
' * and lay it face down ward on the scale,
15 and when the perforations on the
14! stamp correspond exactly to thus, .:
the scale you have the required scale
14 of perforations. Take the common
I3j 2c. of the current U. S. issue, lay
it on the line of dots marked 12 on
the scale, and you will nnd it just
l-'l (its. By moving the stamp just -
half the distance between two dots,
and placing the stamp just a little
Hi below the row of white dots, you will
11 get a series of black circles, the top
of which is made by the row of white
5 dots on the scale, and the bottom by
in the row ofperforatious on the stamp.
This is a very important matter, as a
" stamp perforated 12^ may be very
9 common and cost little, while the
same stamp perforated 15 may be a
"' very rare and a very valuable stamp,
s All U.S. stamps since 1H61 are per-
forated. One of the chief merits of
stamp-collecting is that it strength-
T ens the powers of observation in so
c, many different directions.
Ciirins OK THE "Bismarck cele-
,, brat ion postal-card" are uow on sale
with the dealers. There are a num-
ber of varieties, some printed in tint,
it'i.i itinii >ize.s are de- others in three or four colors. It has
established whether these
SM!O!« chained iTthe llot
apace between the two ver- cards were good for postage with-
tical white Hues. „„, .„„ 8taiup ,„.„,,,. affixed or |]lpt
Tin: OIIAXGE SPECIAL delivery '.stamp will probably lie the
most valuable of this class, as it was in circulation a short
time only. Some of the previous issues can still lie had at
the smaller post-oflicr>.
IT IS HUMORED that the SI black of tin1 current issue
will soon be printed in another color. Collectors should
-ii lire it now.
Till': i. n. n i i i M em-rent issue it is said will soon be
issued with the "white line" triangles.
MLI \-. irnvK s. MAYMIL— Tin- Mamp you have is probably one of the
first l"i iiriiiii-d iin. In- the piv.-i.-nt contract. Host collectors consider it
a clisliiirt v.iriely.
A\iv I. IN. -.II.N — Yon probably have the 3c. rose ot 1SC1. The pink is
. nnd "l a |.c-cniiai- shade on a bluish ground.
"' • ' u > « — The Tuscany stamps are worth 30c. for tlie one
crazie, l-Jr. i,,r ihe two crazie, ISc. tm- the six crazio. The San Marino
- nre worth toe ; d 50c, reap. . lively. It used on the original en-
liroliahly twice as much.
(JiKiiMcir, U. Wn;,. -f.m\i are collected entire only. Cut
Cnpi.'^ i];l\(.' 110
E. G.— 1 have never seen the 3c. embossed stamp mentioned by you
Probably it is blurred in printing. The German stamp is a local, the
Italian a revenue.
J. S. GHKKN. — There are two kinds of lOc. Confederate blue which are
very ci mini' m. Stamp dealers sell them at lOc. and 25c. respectively.
A. GCAM.— As the date cannot be seen on the coin it has no value for
collection purposes.
J G. \V.— There is no 25c. Columbian. The stamp you mention is
twenty-live centavns Venezuela, which looks just TUe the Columbian
issues.
LAWKK:%OK.— Blood's Despatch, gold, is worth from $2 to $3 if on the
orijiinnl leiiiT. Boutou's Rough and Heady is quoted from §5 to $25 if
on original envelope. Boyd's have been reprinted and affixed to old
letters so much that genuine copies have suffered in value.
li. JI.-KII.I.OP.— The 10. green U. S. 1861 is worth 6c., the 6c. Lincolu 2c.
the one shilling English 15c., the threepenny English Ic.
PHILATUS.
THE OLD STAGE-COACH. ,
DIX(iY and old nnd worn,
Battered and scratched and torn,
Flapping in every sudden gust
Doors that creaked with their ancient rust,
So it stood in the Burbank shed —
One hundred and ten years old, they said —
When I was a lad, and used to play
"Driving stage," at the close of day.
Never an inch did the old wheels stir;
Rusted fast at the hubs they were.
Yet how strong were niy steeds, and fleet,
Streaming out :neath the driver's seat!
Over what hills and plains I sped,
Rocking there in the Burbank shed!
I'nifk! and the leaders sprang away;
Satin-sheened in their coats of bay,
Six broad backs at the driver's feet,
Surging into the village street.
Oh, it was grand! What a race we led!
Though the stage stood still in the Burbank sbed.
Ah! the fright of a certain day,
Just at dusk, in the mouth of May,
When I climbed to the creaking door —
Bolder, surely, than e'er before —
Cning, "Out here, you ghosts — be quick!"
And struck the seat with resounding stick.
Ha! with a din that would wake the dead
Straight there sprang at my shrinking head
Something winged and as white as snow !
Down I sank in a heap below,
While with cackle of loud reproach
Flew a hen from the old stage-coach,
Leaving there on the tattered seat
Something fit for a king to eat!
Long ago to the junkman's store
l.a*t of the old stage-coach they bore;
Bolt and axle and rusty tire
All were mixed in the forge's fire.
But I can see it in tattered state
Waiting yet for its ghostly freight:
l'o\\dered sirs with their shovel-hats,
.•-lately dauies with their cloaks and mats;
While, to the box, with a shivering joy,
Climbs a rosy-faced country boy !
i Hi, the charm of the Long Ago,
Youth's Valhalla, and Fancy's glow
Lighting many a dim old page
With such a relic as Bnrbank's stage!
Just for a glimpse of its chrome and red,
Fading there in the ruined shed !
Just for an hour of the rare old play,
"Driving stage "at the close of day !
What are all one may say or do
To what he ih't'itms when bis life is new?
JAMES BUCKHAM.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE PROPER USE OF A SHOT-GUX.
THOUGH shooting, like many other sports, can be a very
dangerous amusement for boys — and men, too, for that
matter — rthere is no reason why boys as well as men should
not learn how to use a gnu, and get much amusement
and bene.it out of hunting. It is alia question of learn-
ing what the dangers of guuniug are, and learning how to
avoid them. Fire is a dangerous thing in its way, and yet
we all have fires. Gnuiiiug is no more dangerous, if care-
fully taken up, and a boy of fifteen or sixteen is quite old
enough to learn what the dangers of a shot-gun are, to re-
spect them and avoid them. Naturally any parent, espe-
cially one who knows nothing about rifles or shot-guns
himself, is very chary about letting his sou go off alone
with one on his shoulder, and it is quite as natural for his
mother to think she has seen the last of her boy as he dis-
appears in the woods on his first sporting expedition. But
there is really no other reason for this than that boys are
naturally careless, and guns can be dangerous and deadly
if treated in a careless manner.
The whole secret of shooting and the use of fire-arms
can be stated in a few words: Xertr, untlcr any i-iri'iini-
xtaiiccn.iiniiit a i/nn tit mill nut', irlictliei- Jmidid nr not, iclit'tltcr
in jiiiri* in- ready for iific. If it is never pointed at any one,
it cannot very well kill or wound any one. In like manner
you can never succeed in shooting yourself unless you have
already poiuted the muzzle at yourself. I have seen many
a crack shot and old-time sportsman shudder as he saw a
green hand hold up the detached barrel of a shot-gun while
cleaning it, and point it at some one. Of course the two
steel barrels could not possibly "go off" by themselves,
with no butt and no cartridges, and the sportsman shud-
ders only because he dreads the greenhorn who, even under
such circumstances, allows himself to get into the habit of
putting up the muzzles in such a position. If he does it
at home while cleaning the barrels, he may do it out in the
woods some day when the barrel is attached to the stock,
and perhaps loaded with cartridges, and then there may
really be danger for any one who is near by.
The only accidents that can occur if the muzzle is never
poiuted at any one are, first, the bursting of the gun itself,
which is unlikely, unless the piece is badly made, cheap, or
very old; and secondly, the presence of some one in the
woods who is not within the cognizance' of the sportsman.
As I say, the first is uncommon nowadays with the care-
fully made breech-loading guns. The second never occurs
if the sportsman invariably keeps his muzzle pointed tow-
ard the earth, about five feet or less in advance of him, and
if, when he does fire, he makes sure what he is firing at
and where his shot is likely to go after firing.
A good sportsman is familiar with his piece, and brave
enough to be afraid of it. From the time he takes it out
•of the case the muzzle of the barrels is on his mind until
he has taken it to pieces, cleaned it, and put it away in his
case. When he starts out in the morning, he takes out the
barrels, and pointing them towards the earth as he holds
them in his left hand, he springs the stock into its place
with his right. Then having fixed on the little piece of
wood which clinches the two parts together, he passes his
right arm around the barrels, so that as he carries it the
stock points up and behind him at an angle of about forty-
five degrees, and the barrels point down toward the earth at
a similar angle in front of him. Around his waist or in his
poi-ki-ts he carries cartridges. No charge goes into his gun
until he has not only left the house but actually arrived on
the grounds where he expects to find game. If he has to drive
to the proper woods or the shooting-stands or blinds, lie
places the piece in the bottom of the wagon, pointing out
towards the rear, never once allowing it to point towards
himself or any one else who may be standing by. If he is near
enough to the woods or shore to walk he carries the gun as
described, unloaded, until he reaches the proper place.
When climbing over fences, whether with cartridges in
place or not, he places the gun under the fence flat on the
ground, climbs over or under, and then picks it up from the
other side. Resting a shooting-piece against a fence or
wall in an upright position shows the greenhorn or the
careless and therefore poor sportsman. The fence may be
rickety, or the stones on the wall easily detached. In
either case it only takes a little jarring to cause the shot-
gun to slide one way or the other and fall to the ground,
and in doing so it may very easily go oft'. If it is unloaded
this would, of course, do no harm. But if it is never al-
lowed to get into the position where it may so slide, it cer-
tainly cau never go off, loaded or unloaded. In other
•words, form the habit of never giving a gnu the chance of
sliding or going off, and then you can never have an acci-
dent. This is not a sign of timidity, and you would soon
realize it if you could see how carefully some famous old
sportsman who is a friend of your father's handles his tiring-
piece.
On arriving finally at the particular woods you have
. planned to cover, or the " blinds" which you are going to
lie in, put in the charges, and then all is ready for the sport.
Most of the danger after this stage of the proceedings
has been reached is again only through carelessness or ex-
citement over the sport, which is only another word for
carelessness. For example, you are in the woods and a
bird flies out among the branches. In your excitement at
the sudden flush of the partridge you throw up your gnu
and "blaze away," forgetting that the other man with you
is just ahead. That is rank carelessness. For no two
sportsmen ever lose track of each other. If they happen
to be out of sight of each other, and within range, they
keep up a constant conversation, or call to each other con-
tinually, so that from moment to moment each knows
where the other is. Again, when two men are standing
close beside each other and a covey jumps up under their
guns, there has to be a quick swing to right or left. Usu-
ally, under these circumstances, the man on the right takes
' the right-hand shot, and the one on the left takes the left-
hand shot. If the right-hand man swings to the left he
may very easily bring his friend in the line of his muzzle.
As regards the half and full cock of the hammers, there
is one safe rule to follow. When on the actual ground,
and following dogs on the scent or pointing, the gun must,
of course, be at full cock. But whenever a fence is to be
climbed, or a bad bit of close underbrush broken through,
the hammers should be dropped carefully to half cock, or,
if the gnu is hair.merless, the half-cock trigger should be
sprung.
In all this the important point is that every man or boy,
whilo carrying a shooting-piece, should have his mind on
what he is doing, and should never for a moment lose his
head. It is far better to lose a shot than to hit a friend
or take the slightest chance of hitting him. On the other
hand, if a boy thinks the matter over and follows out these
rules, there is not the least danger ill his owning and using
a shot-gun, and the amount of exercise to both brain and
body which he can get out of it is astonishing. When
yon begin you need your father's advice as to the proper
way of holding the gun, taking aim, and bringing down
the game. But after that nothing is necessary lint your
own coolness, presence of mind, and care.
The butt should come up quickly and firmly to the
shoulder, resting against the shoulder itself rather than
the biceps or top of the arm, and you should acquire the
habit, which cau only come with practice, of getting it up
quickly, steadily, and firmly the first time in the right
place. Otherwise the "kicking" may be severe and pain-
ful. The aim should be taken with both eyes open, though
the right eye does the aiming. The objection to sighting
with the left eye closed is that the operation of closing the
left eye always half closes the right, and hence makes your
sight a little less distinct and somewhat unnatural. This
sighting with both eyes open is a little bewildering at
first, hut it soon becomes natural, and the whole operation
thru becomes :i kind of second nature. For quick wood
shots, the left hand should hold the barrels some distance
out towards the muzzle, the left arm being almost extend-
ed to its full length, while the right arm is bent up short,
the right elbow stuck out in a nearly horizontal position
to the cheek hugging the stock. At the same time stand
firmly on the feet, and do not. as many older and supp'>-e,i-
ly better sometimes do, bend the knees just as you tire.
631
\Y1IEX YOU FIRST BEGI.V, YOU NEED YOUR FATHER'S ADVICE
"TiiE PROPER USK OF A SHOT-GcN," SEE PAGE 631.
632
INTERSCHOEASTIC
THE SQUABBLE WHICH HAS DISGRACED the close of the
New York Interscholastic baseball season was as undig-
nified as it was unnecessary, and it has surely brought no
credit to the Harvard School or to any of its athletic au-
thorities. Knowing, as it seems they all did, that Ehrich
was absolutely and unequivocally disqualified from compe-
ting in sports held under the rules of the N.Y.I. S.A. A., he
was nevertheless put in to catch in the most important
game of the season. Zizinia, the captain of the Harvard
team, had been advised to substitute Dillenback if Ehrich
was protested on the field, but for some unexplained rea-
son, when De La Salle did protest him, he was never-
theless allowed to play. This was a bit of gross misjiidg-
inent,to say the least, and has resulted in Harvard losing
the pennant, which might have been won with Dilleuback
behind the bat. By pursuing this course, Harvard School
not only allowed an inferior team to represent the N.Y.I.S.
B.B. League at Eastern Park on June 8th, thus doing an
injustice to the entire association, but made itself liable to
expulsion and disgrace, which will probably only be avoid-
ed because of the personal friendship of the League dele-
gates for the Harvard representatives. As for the unsports-
manlike spirit of the whole performance, perhaps the less
said about it the better.
THE DE LA SALLE NINE is, no donbt, inferior both in field-
ing and batting qualities to the Harvard team, but I do not
believe that the latter would Lave made a much better
showing against the strong men from Garden City had they
met them. These are baseball-players, and no mistake ;
and they worked just as hard all through the game with
De La Salle as if they were not having a " merry -go-round,"
as their rooters constantly exclaimed. It certainly was a
merry-go-round, and all the mirth was on the St. Paul side
of the fence, fora poorer exhibition of baseball-playing has
doubtless seldom been seen at Eastern Park than the game
put up by the representatives of the New York Association.
The out-fielders could not judge the easiest of flies, and
dropped almost every ball that they did manage to get
their hands on, and the in-fielders were not much better.
Baker,
3db.
Howard,
Bub.
Hall, p.
Mortimer, s.s.
ST. PAUL'S, GARDEX CITY, BASEBALL NINE.
Winners of the Iiitev-City Championship, Eastern Park, Brooklyn, June 8, 1895.
633
OAKLAND HIGH-SCHOOL ATHLETIC TEAM,
Champions of the Academic Athletic League of the Pacific Coast.
To any one who saw the game, or who was acquainted with
the record of the St. Paul nine, it was not surprising that
the Garden City players piled up thirty-five runs to their
opponents' one, or that they made twenty-six base hits,
with six home runs.
THE ST. PAUL NINE have played thirteen games this
season, and have not suffered a single defeat. They have
scored 179 runs to their opponents' 51 ; they have made 192
hits to their opponents' 69; and they have committed only
54 errors to their opponents' 84. Their bat-
ting and fielding averages reckon up as fol-
lows :
Batting. Fielding.
Hall, p 407 .915
S. Starr, c .371 .937
E. Starr, 1 1) 393 .948
Foster, 21) 375 .893
Baker.Sh 375 714
Mortimer, a. s 333 .709
Lum, l.f 3GO 923
Flippen, c. f 339 .813
Goldsborough, r. f 378 .900
It is evident from the above that St..
Paul had a hard-hitting team, aud I have
no doubt the fielding averages — especially
of Baker, Flippen, and Foster — would have-
been higher if the men had tried to make
records rather than to accept every chance
that carne their way. Hall's pitching
throughout the season has been up to a.
high, standard, and his fielding has been.
excellent. In one game he had thirteen
fielding chances, which he accepted with-
oiit making an error. Foster, too, has done
well, and has spoiled many an apparent
base hit. Next year the managers of this
nine should seek games with stronger teams
than can be found in either the New York
or the Long Island leagues. I should like
to see them play Andover or Lawrence-
ville. The latter claim they cannot find
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Event.
Connecticut H.-S.A.A. Cames,
Hartford, June B, 1895
Western Massachusetts I.S.A.A. Games-
Amherst, June 8, 1895.
Worcester Academies, \
Phillips Andover and
V.-rer-Irr, June 8,1895.
Performance.
Winner.
nance.
Winner.
Performance.
Connor, L.
IK IT. L.
Foster. B. Il.-s.
liu-sott, N.B.
nuokniKliam, B.II.-S.
i: er, 11.
Fiolil. 11.11. -S.
Field, II.II.-s,
Bilker. 1.
Siui-toMinl, H.H.-S.
< '<. imer, L.
Stnrtevant, H.H.-S.
Beck. 11
Beck, H.
10 1-2 HOC.
•.':'. 4-5 "
53 1-2 "
2 m. 7 1-5 "
- 1-5 "
7 " 173-5 "
17 4-5 "
26 1-2 "
5 " 18 2-5 "
5ft. 5 in.
•jn " 7 1-4 "
9 " S 1-2 "
•111 " HI
•:;i; •• ^ 1-2 "
Coil, II.
Coit, H.
Perkins, C.
Thuyer, H.
Thayer, H.
Phillips, M.
Phillips, M.
Chism, M.
Uladwin, W.
Scott, W.
Chism, M.
Austin, M.
10 4-5 sec.
•.'44-!) "
fi7 '2-5 "
2m. 10 1-5 "
5 " 55 "
16 3-5 "
294-5 "
5 ft. 4 3-t in.
19 " 3
10 " 1 1-2 "
t»4 " S "
*3!i " 3 "
Sargent, W. A.
llnrkor, \V.A.
Fish, W.A.
Liiillij, P. A.
1/iiriL'. I' A.
Lockwonil, \\'.A.
iioit, P.A.
F.aikrr, VV.A.
riunpboli, W.A.
Edmonds, W.A.
Williams, P.A.
Johnson. W.A.
Holt, P.A.
Holt, P.A.
11 1-5 sec.
232-5
53 2-5
2m. 7
4 " 47 4-5
8 " 3
is 3-5
28
5 " 484-5
S ft. 5 i .
19 " 2
10 " 2 1-2
t!04 " 3 1-2
*33 " <J
] U
AiimiKviATtoNS.— Connecticut H.-S.A.A. : L, Holrlikis- School, Lnkevillo; II., Hiilhonse High -School. NY\v H:ivon ; II.II.-S., Hartford High-
Sch,,oi; r..ll -s . iidd _-,.,„ ii i iiiuh-s.-i I; II. C., lliirttor.l Classical School; N B., Now Urit.iin High-School; B.M.T., Bom-ilm.-m M mi n ill Trniiiing-
Soi i ; I:., I '.ui kr Icy School, Now London. Western Mnssachiisetts I.S.A.A. : M.,Monson; H., Holyoke; W.,Westfield ; C. , Chiropoe ; A., Amherst.
Dual Games: P.A., Phillip's Academy, Andover; W.A., Worcester Academy, t 12 lus. ' ;<'• Ihs.
opponents worthy of them outside the colleges. Perhaps
(•null 11 t'ii\ o.-i n give them good practice.
THE MEN SHOWN in the picture of the Oakland High-
sd I Aililriio Team are Cheek, Jackson, Jenks, Gooch,
Hotfniaii, liuppy, Russ, McConnell, Hanford, Rosborongh,
and l)a\vson. They won the championship of the A.A.L.
tor tin- <> II. -S. at tin- la-it two Meld mod ings — March 16th
anil May 4th — and most, of them return to school next \car.
W. B. Jackson, the mile runner, enters the L~ni\crsity of
California this fall, and if that entei -pi ising college sends a
team to Mott Haven next spring, Jackson will-be one of
its members, and he will push the Eastern cracks in the
mile run.
A MERE ci.AM'i: at the reports of the three interscholastic
meets held in New England a week ago Saturday will dem-
onstrate that scholastic sports, in spite of their prominence
and excellence, are still in a sort of "-go-as-you-please"
state of perfection. For instance, half the associations
use a Hi-ll>. ham-
mer and a 16-lb.
shot, whereas the
V-*> other half use
12-lb. weights. In
some instances,
such as at the
Worcester - Artdo-
ver dual game.-,.
the contestants
put a ll!-ll>. shot,
but threw, -i 12-1 b.
hammer. It is
7* impossible to
make a compari-
son of relative
efficiency under
such conditions.
Why is it not just
as easy for all the
schools to use a
16-lb. hammer,
and thus equalize
thiugs 1 Then
they could not
only compare
their own rec-
ords, but they could see in what relation they stand
i" coll,..;.' -men. The principal argument in favor of
ilic l-.'-lb. shot and hammer is that, school-boys are not
strong enough to use the heavier weights. This does
uot seem to me to be a good argument . In -cause fully
half the associations use the 16-lb. hammer and shot, ami
there are no reports of resultant evil effects. Hesiilcs, a
school athlete, who goes in for those events is usual I v a well-
built, and muscular boy, who, if he is going to college, will
probably continue to put the shot and throw the hammer.
It is pure nonsense, therefore, for him to become accustomed
to lighter weights,- for it will be like beginning all over
F. G. BECK, HILLIIOUSF. HIGH-SCHOOL,
NEW HAVEN.
again for him when he enters college sports, and his class-
mate who started with a 16-lb. hammer will have a con-
siderable advantage over him.
Fou SOME TIME I have wanted to speak of this matter
and of kindred subjects, but as I have not space enough to
go into it fully this week, I shall only say a few more
words to start those interested in it to thinking. The
kindred subjects are the other events on the scholastic
programmes. Why not have the card at school meetings
identical with the inter-collegiate programme? We all
know that there are too many events, anyhow, on both
cards, and I am glad to hear that next year the colleges
will eliminate the mile walk and the bic\ch- race. The
schools cannot do better than follow this example, and
those leagues which have throwing the baseball, standing
high jump, standing broad jump, and other acrobatic feats
on their lists will do well to start in on sweeping reforms.
There is nothing athletic about throw ing I he baseball, espe-
cially, and it certainly is not a picturesque feature of any
meeting.
UNIFORMITY is A GREAT thing in any branch of human
endeavor, and the sooner we can attain to it in interscho-
lastic sport the farther advanced we shall be. The forma-
tion of a general iuterscholastic league, such as I spoke of
last week, will be of gnat service in that very direction;
for the greater association would adopt a definite pro-
gramme, and all of the schools holding membership would
have to accept it, and would no doubt be delighted to do
so. I am glad to say that the suggestion of forming a
u'ueial league has been favorably received by many en-
thusiasts iu iuterscholastic sport, and, so far as I know, has
been unfavorably commented on by no one. I have re-
ceived, already, several letters endorsing the scheme, and
the only point so far on which my cot respondents differ is
concerning the best place to hold the annual meeting. Un-
til representatives from all sections are heard from, how-
ever, it will be impossible to say what the preponderance
of opinion really is. Mr. Evert Wendell is heartily in
favor of the formation of a joint league. In his letter he
says that such a thing would increase the interest in the
subject everywhere, and would prove a great success.
CONTINUING, HE WRITES: "The only part of it of which
I disapprove is the holding of the meeting in a distinctly
college town. The interests of so widely representative
an iuterscholastic meeting must be so diverse that it would
be unwise, for many reasons, to hold it in a town identified
only with one of them. New York would be the most
central place for it, and, to my mind, the most advisable
choice. The best tracks are here, the best-known officials
are here, and the greatest number of spectators would
doubtless be gathered here. The Inter-collegiate Associa-
tion has chosen New York as the most central and repre-
sentative place in which to hold its annual meeting, ami
tire localities of the various associations which yon propose
to have constitute members of the new -school athletic
body would in general be drawn from about i he same parts
634
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
of Hie country as the colleges in the other
urbanization. So have the meeting, by all
means, but have it in New York."
FOR THE FIFTH TIME SINCE l^so the Hart-
ford Puhlic High-School won the champion-
ship of the Connecticut High-School A. A.
at the games held in Charter dak Park,
Hartford, June 8th. They seorecl ::-.', points
out of a possible 112, their nearest rival, the
Hotehkiss School of Lakeville, being just
ten points behind them. Some very gond
performances were made, and eight records
were broken, and if it had not been for a
strong wind blowing up tlie track the time
in the sprints might in many cases have
been better. In spite of the. breeze, how-
ever, the three trial heats of the 100 were
run iu lOi sec., Ill;-' see. .anil 10? sec., respec-
tively, and the linal was made by ('.inner in
10i sec. He ran a1 strong race, finishing a
yard ahead of Dyer, his school-mate, with
Davenport third. Ingraham, unfortunately.
had to be put back a yard at the line for
a false start, and could not overcome the
handicap. Dyer turned the tables on Con-
ner in the 220, finishing ahead of him. It
was a pretty race, all the contestants run-
ning in one heat, the track being sixty yards
wide. Luce proved a disappointment for
the Hartford High -School in the quarter
by going to pieces in the last half of the
race after earning a good lead at the start.
Consequently Foster passed him. and took
first easily in 53i sec. Luce has done better
than 52 in practice, and may leani from his
experience of last week not to take any
chances with his diet on the eve of a race.
THE HALF-MILE RUN was one of the most
exciting events of the day. The runners
kept bunched at first, but soon Bassett,
Kearney, and Lawrence plunged ahead of
the field, each one struggling for the lead.
Bassett and Lawrence ran almost abreast
until within fifty yards of the finish, when
the latter "was taken with a cramp in the
leg, which forced him to third place, behind
Kearney, while Bassett crossed the line in
2 m. 7 J sec. This time would certainly have
been bettered but for Lawrence's misfor-
tune, for both he and the winner have done
better in practice. I was surprised at
Chapman's defeat in the mile, for I think
he could have won if he had shown more
"sand." He led until within sixty yards
of the finish, when Buckingham passed him.
Then he gave up, and straggled in second.
The high hurdles made a pretty race for
two Hartford High-School men — Field and
Cady. Field is a most graceful runner, and
he scraped the sticks in flue form, with
Cady snapping along barely a yard behind.
The time was comparatively poor, but I dare
say this was largely due to Cady's weak-
ness, he having dislocated his shoulder a
few weeks before the race. He is a brother
of the Yale sprinter, and from present ap-
pearances I believe he will do better than
his senior when he gets the advantage of
college methods and training. The im-
provement over his last year's st\le i-,
marked. He came iu third in the low hur-
dles, with Field again in the lead.
THE FIFTEEN" STAllTEliS ill the IjicM'le
event kept well bundled until a collision
scattered the crowd and spoiled things for
fonr of the riders. The remainder bunched
again and pedalled along pretty evenly, un-
til Steele, Rutz, and Baker forged ahead in
the stretch and finished in that order. The
time, 5 min. isj: sec., is excellent. Another
unusually good performance at the Con-
necticut games was Butler's winning of the'
walk in 7 iniii. 17| sec. He forged ahead at
the start with such a rapid gait that I felt
certain he must, give out before he could
cover half the distance, but he kept it up,
and finished strong fully a hundred yards
ahead of Tichboiirne. St nrtevaiit and Beck
carried otf the honors iu the field events,
I he for r winning both the pole vault and
the high jump, breaking the record in each
case. He is only seventeen years old, but he
is a promising man. He won the vault at
9 feet t> inches without ever touching the
bar; then he had it raised to 9 feet 84-
inches. and cleared it at the first trial. He
could have gone higher, but was reserving
his force for the jumps. In the high, he
repeated his performance of the vault by
winning first at fj feel -II inches, then by
having the bar raised to ."> feet 8 inches and
clearing it at the first attempt. In taking
both the hammer and the shot Beck did
excellent work, as our table of records will
show. Both weights were 16 pounds, and
I feel confident that, he can make a better
put in the shot when not competing in so
many events.
IT is TO BE REGRETTED THAT the Spring-
field High-School decided not to enter any
team at the Western .Massachusetts I.S.A.A.
panics, held on Pratt Field, Amherst ; but the
meeting was most successful, and Monson
Academy again left the' field a victor. The
success of the Monson athletes was entirely
due to their careful training, and to the sys-
tematic way and the earnestness with which
the men went intoevery event. I have heard
many plaints to the effect that, Mon sou's an-
nual victory in the shot and hammer was al-
ways due to the fact that her repiesenta-
lives in these events were larger men than
the other schools could produce. That ex-
cuse cannot hold this year, for both O'Con-
nor of Holyoke H.-S., and Clark of Amherst
H.-S., were giants alongside of Austin, the
Monson shot champion. Considering this
was the Chicopee High-School's tirst year ill
the association, her representatives did re-
markably well in spite of the fact that they
finished fourth. Aniherst High made the
lowest score, with only (j points to her credit,
while Chicopee got 25, and Westtield, next
ahead of Chicopee, only scored 27. The
winning score of Mousou was 53 points.
THE GRADUATE.
A-DVPCFtTISKINIKNTS.
Highest of all in Leavening Power. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Baking
Powder
ABSOLUTELY PURE
The Interscholastic Sport Departmeift of HARPER'S ROUND
TABLE will be as full of matter interesting to its present readers
during the summer months as it is now. Many will go to dis-
tant summer resorts where there may be no newsdealer. To
insure the prompt receipt of the paper each week, send the ac-
companying coupon bearing your name and address with 50
cents for 13 weeks, or $2.00 for one year.
Summer Subscription Coupon.
Messrs. HARPER & BROS., New York City, New York.
Please send Harpers Round Table for weeks, for which I inclose $
S3* tfDr BMqtJfflWj ErEWATER
635
SENI> for Catalogue of
the Musical Iiist.ru->
im-ilt you think -if i.iiyinxr.
Violins rr)>:iirr<l I'V the
<'rt'mon;i System. C. STORY,
2C Ceutnil Sr.. iJt^tun, Mass.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
BICYCLING
This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, nnd the Editor will he pi
answer BUY iiui-<*tmn on llu- sultjtrt. Our inapt and tours contain much valuable rinti
mulled tV'iitn I he official m ftps and road-bonks of the League of American Wheelmen.
L__ .U T 4 »1T .!.„ PJUn- ™!ll h~ -I.!.,.,.,.! .„
f the work beine <t
vith membership blanks
by the
»nd inforn
., the Ecli
l'«r HB poss
ill be ple
lata kindly
Recog-
ntsh
Copyright, 1895, by Harper & Brothers.
THE ONLY OTHER really good ride on Long Island out of
Brooklyn, besides the one given in last week's issue to
Babylon, is over the same route as already described to-
Jamaica, and from thence as on the Babylon route, on
through Hollis and Holliswood Park. Just beyond Hollis-
wood Park the fork is reached whose right leads to Baby-
lon, and whose left runs out over the plank-road to Jericho,
and thence up along the north shore of Long Island. There
are almost no hills along the entire route until the rider
gets up to the north shore at and beyond Huntington. On
taking the left fork, after passing Holliswood Park, the
rider gets into Queens, continues on through Floral Park,
Hyde Park, and Mineola straight out to Jericho, on a re-
markably good road for Long Island, and a creditable road
for any country. Jericho is practically the end of this-
plank-road. After leaving Jamaica and passing by ihe
toll-gate, the rider may to advantage take to the side paths,,
for these will give him considerable help; but complaints,
against bicyclists have grown so numerous of late, and
there is so much danger that severe legislation will be
pushed against bicyclists, that every one is urged never to.
ride on side paths or sidewalks within the limits of a vil-
lage or a thickly populated towu.
TliEliE ARE SEVERAL KOADS which may be taken out of
Jericho. One of these is to turn right from Jericho ami
go on southward to Hicksville (and turn at the bottom of
the hill), about a mile beyond, near the edge of the plain.
Take the left fork and continue on this until the railroad
is crossed. After crossing the railroad turn left, and keep-
to this road until the railroad is again crossed, when a turn
to the right should be made at the next, fork, and the rider
will soon run into Farmingdale. Running through Farm-
iugdale, and turning sharp to the right at the next cross-
roads, the wheelman crosses the tracks and runs to the-
Holycross Mission-House, two miles away, turns sharp to-
the right, a little beyond, and runs into Amityville, three
miles further on. The road is good, and the side paths may
be taken here to advantage also. After leaving Amity-
ville, cross the railroad, and turn to the left to ihe shore
road on the south shore of Long Island. A turn to the left
carries the rider !nto Babylon, and he may here rest, and
run back to Brooklyn by the route described last week.
ANOTHER RUN, and the one marked on the map accom-
panying the Department this week, is to continue on front
Jericho until theturning to the right is reached, and then the
wheelman can run up to the north shore through Him ting ton
to North port. There should be a turn made to the left at
Jericho, and, after a short distance, a turn to the right, them-it
crossing the railroad track after passing Locust Grove and
running into Syosset. The road is somewhat hilly there,
though not bad. On passing the station the wheelman should
turn right and take the- next, turn to Ihe left. It will bring
him into Cold Spring. Turning right, from here and taking
the main road he runs on three miles into Hnntington over a
somewhat hilly load : thence the lonte is direct to Centre-
port and Northport, a little over five miles further on, and
the rider may then keep on along the north shore as far as-
he likes. Hunting-ton, however, makes thirty three or fm.r
miles, which is enough for an ordinary bicyclist, w ho would
naturally return by train, or, if the return route be made
in the same day, sixty-five to seventy miles would be cov-
ered.
NOTE. — Map ot Nrw Y'oik riiy asphalted sheets in No. 809. Map of
route from New York !o Tai i > i..\vn in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
Connecticut, in No. Sll. NYw York lo Xtati-n Island in No. 812. New
Jersey from Hobnkeii to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. S14.
Brooklyn to Bal>ylon,S15.
636
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
IF THE RETURN TRIP be made, it is pos-
sible to take :i pleasant run out to Glen
Cove by keeping to the road after nussini;
•(going west) Cold Spring. The run tlieu
will be through Laurelton, Oyster Bay, Bay-
ville, Locust Valley, into Glen Cove, and the
road can then be followed without difficulty.
From Glen Cove it is somewhat hilly. There
is a pretty run through Greenville, Roslyn,
back to plank road at Mineola. This return
detour adds three or four miles, but makes
a variety in the road.
Any questions in re
answered by the editor of thi
from HIIV of our club who ca
photograph matters will be willingly
n.aiid we should be glad to hear
hel|.l\il suggestions.
PAPERS FOR BEGINNERS, NO. 4.
HOME-MADE APPARATUS.
A DARK-ltOOM LANTERN.
A WOODEN starch-box can be made into
a good daik-room lantern with very
little trouble. Across the cover at each end
nail a thin strip of wood an inch wide. In
the centre of the cover cut a hole 4 by 6
inches, and over this paste two thicknesses
•of yellow post-office paper. The strips of
wood are to prevent the cover splitting.
For the chimney, remove the bottom from a
round tin spice-box, and in one end of the
box cut slashes an inch in depth and half
an inch apart. In one end of the wooden
box cut a hole into which this tin shall tit
snugly. Slip it into the hole as far as the
slashes are cut in the tin, turn the piece of
tin back against the wood, and I'asten them
with small brads or tacks. For the cover-
ing of the chimney, to prevent the escape
of white light, take an empty tin fruit or
vegetable can — the cans used for corn are
the best size — cut slashes in the tin the
same as in the small can, and above these
slashes for about two inches puncture 'the
tin full of holes. Turn back these pieces of
tin at right angles, place it over the chim-
ney, aiid tack it in several places to the
box. This arrangement will allow plenty
of air to enter for ventilation, but no white
light will escape. For a light get a small
brass candlestick like those used for camp-
ing, and use adamantine candles.
A NEGATIVE WASHING HACK.
If one has an old washboard half the work
of making a negative rack is already done.
From the washboard cut two strips seven
inches long and three inches wide. The
strips must be cut so that the corruga-
tions go across, instead of lengthwise, the
strips. These two pieces are for the sides
of the rack. Now take four pieces of wood
six inches long and about an inch square,
and nail a piece to the end of each strip so
that they project an inch beyond the strip
at one edge and two inches the other. Fast-
en these two side pieces together by nailing
pieces of wood from one of the ends of the
projecting sticks to the one opposite, allow-
ing just space enough for a 4 by f> plate to
slip between the corrugated zinc as they
are turned in toward each other. On the
bottom nail a thin piece of board to the
four pieces of wood on which the plates may
rest when in the rack. You thus have a
skeleton box, grooved on the inside, which
can be filled with plates; and when neces-
sary to change the water the box can be
lifted out of the pail without danger of
breaking the plates. A negative-box costs
from $1 75 to $5 00, and this negative-box
costs but half an hour of time.
A HYPO-THAY.
A tray for hypo may be made by lining a
small wooden box with enamel cloth. Have
the cloth a little larger than the inside of
the box ; tit it smoothly, and fold it at the
corners, instead of cutting it; turn the edges
over and tack in a few places. The cloth
for a box 8 by 10 costs only five cents, and
will last a long time if rinsed thoroughly
each time after using.
A PLATE-LIFTER.
To make a plate-lifter, take a stiff piece
of wire, bend it exactly in the centre, and
twist the halves together so as to make
a loop. Bend over the ends of the wire a
half-inch, bending them far enough to make
a sharp angle, and with the ends turned
toward each other. The ends of the wire
should be a little less than four inches
apart, so that wheu the hooked ends are
slipped over a 4 by 5 plate there will be
enough tension to hold the plate without
slipping. This lifter is as useful as those
bought for fifteen or twenty-five cents, and
costs nothing.
ILL-TEMPERED BABIES
are not desirable in any home. Insufficient nourish-
ment produces ill temper. Guard against fretful
children by feeding nutritious and digestible food.
The Gail Ben-den Eagle Brand Condensed Milk is the
most successful of all infant foods. — [Adv.']
Sparkle and vim.
Full of good health.
Full of everything good.
Every bottle of
this great effervescent
temperance beverage is a
sparkling, bubbling fountain
of health — a source of plea-
sure, the means of making
you feel better and do better.
You make it yourself right
at home. Get the genuine.
THE I III- E. HIRES CO.. Philadelphia.
WALTER BAKER & GO.
The Largest Manufacturers of
PURE, HIGH GRADE
COCOAS and CHOCOLATES
On thia Continent, have received
HIGHEST AWARDS
from the great
Industrial and Food
\ EXPOSITIONS
A IN EUROPE AND AMERICA.
Caution: n?anyieTmhrftiJn1
of the labels and wrappers on our
pood.,, consumers should make fcure
that our place of manufacture,
namely. Dorchester, Maa*.,
IB printed on each package.
SOLD BY GROCERS EVERYWHERE.
WALTER BAKER & CO., DORCHESTER, MASS.
S
Corset I
Sense I
It's the business of the £
corset to fit — that's what fc
it's for — Dr. Warner's |-
Corsets always do*
OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT °f "^j™*
CILLOTT'S PENS at the CHICAGO IMPOSITION.
AWARD i " For excellence of steel used in their
manufaeture. It bein^ line tfraiju-d and elastic ; super-
ior workmanship, especially shown by the careful
grinding which leaves the pens free from defects. The
tempering is excellent and the action of the finished
pens perfect." (Signed) FRANZ VOGT,
(H. I. KIMBALL. liutlvidualjwlae.
Approved :< Pre\s7 Dgmrtmmtal <'"mmittee.
(JOHN BOYl) THACHER.
L'ltairman Exec. Com. on Awards.
Stnmps,
t KOO fine mixed Victoria. Cape of G.
t II., India. UpEm.etc., with fine Stamp
AU.uin.nn1y 1Of. New 80- P. Price - list IVee.
.-/i*«/j wanted at AOf coiiiiuissioii. STANDARD
STAMP CO., 4 Nicholson Place. St. Louis. Mo. Old
U. S. and Confederate Stamps bought.
100 all <lit'. Venezuela, Uosta Rica, etc., only
10c-;200all dif.Huyti, Hawaii, etc., onlySOc.
Ag'ts wanted luJiii perct.com. List PRICE!
t'.A.Stegnianii,2722Ead8Av.,St.Louis,lIo.
var., all dif., 5c.; 12 var. Heligoland,
15c.; 6 var. Italy, 185S to 1S62, 5c.; 3 var.
anover, ftc.: .Sftvar. C\ American, 50c. Agents wauled.
F. W. nil. I, Kit, 904 Olive St., St. Louis, 91o.
VAR. FREE to all seuding for my approval sheets
at 60% dis. C. B. ANTISDALE, Palmyra, N. Y.
r—tl WONDER CABINET FREE. MiMlng Link
[5-* B 1 1'uizle, Devil's Bottle. Pocket Camera. Ul«ir
1 ^7 JWirePutile. f5p,wk Photos, Book of BleiRht of
;' f Hand. Taul Value tiOc. Si!Dt free with immenf>«
^eatalopue of 1000 HarpaiDB f or lOc forpoitn^e
JIN(iERSOLLSBRO.,65Cortlandt Street N. T.
Harper's Catalogue,
Thoroughly revised, classified, and in-
dexed, will be sent by mail to any ad-
dress on receipt of ten cents.
637
KAEPER'S BOUND TABLE
At Home at "Mona."
We reached "in- place. " Mi ma," about a month
, i- 1,1 .,ur own unmans. It's about
sixty miles from " Bound Hills," where we first
were. Two of my brothers rode over on their
bicycles. There is a high mountain, called Mount
Diablo, live mih-s up and three down, that has to
be climbed and descended. There are two fair
hotels on lhe road. Between them is a small vil-
lage, called Kw:irton, where we passed the night
The scenery all along the road is lovely, and
when you get in anioiist the mountains and drive
along the banks of the Rio Cobra Kiver. it is superb !
On all sides rise I hose great blue mountains, and the
river rushes and roars below them, and everything
beautiful is there. The railway runs beside the
mountains, and after a little enters a tunnel right
through the heart of the biggest mountain. The
sky is the loveliest blue, and little white clouds float
in it, big vultures sail in it, and tall royal palms stand
up ag.-iin^t it. and wave their great fronds. Pretty
soon you get out of all this and into a Ions:, hot,
dusty road, the bushes on each side of which are
so covered with dust that the rain cannot clean
tnem; so they remain dirty, and are not worth
1. joking at.
The hotel in Spanish Town is one of the best in
Jamaica— cool, with large rooms and wide veran-
das. There is a garden in front of it with a thick
royal palm in the middle. Kingston City is the
hottest place on the island ; but we are higher up,
and that is much better, though in summer it is
none too cool. I should like correspondents of my
own age, seventeen, but foreign to the United
States, and not boys. GWKNDOLEN HAWTHORNE.
Mo>*, KI.SUSTO.V, JAMAICA, B. W. I.
Those Funny Foxes.
Some time ago we offered a hound volume of a
former year of this periodical for the funniest pic-
ture or pictures of a fox. Permission was given to
take any sort of liberty with Sir Reynard, but the
Another is the William D. Moffatt Chapter, of Oak-
land, Md., a third is the Whittier Library Chapter,
of .Milwaukee, Wis., and a fourth is the Eugene M.
Camp Chapter, of Brooklyn, N. Y. A society in
Stillwater, Minn , wants to send one, and the Thad-
deus Stevens Chapter, of Philadelphia, who lias
lost by deatli the Knight who founded it, may give a
stone as a memorial.
The face of each stone would bear the letters,
as : " \V. D. Moffatt Chapter, Oakland, Md.," or,
"In Slemoriam: R. K. McCulIough." It would be
ideal to have enough of these memorials for the
entire base-line, so that a person walking round
the building could read the name of many Chapters
from many States. Can't you help? Ask your Sun-
day-school class about it, or propose it at your
Chapter meeting.
With each stone some contribution should be
made. It was suggested that at least $5 should be
given to the Fund ; but perhaps it will be as well
to allow donors of stones to give any amount they
are able to. Suppose, this summer, you give an
entertainment on the lawn. We can furnish ^n
easily arranged programme. You can clear $10
easily. You could give to the Fund one half of it,
and have the stone dressed, marked, and delivered
for the other half. Several Chapters are to be
represented. Let's have more of them. Write to
us for particulars.
The Decisions of the Founders.
The flood of votes from Founders shows that the
original members of the Order are as interested as
ever in its welfare. The Order is, it may be well
to explain, conducted by its members, and finally
by its Founders, who vote on all important mat-
ters. Three questions were put to the Founders.
1. Should the eighteen - year age limit be abol-
ished? 2. Should there be a new membership cer-
tificate to be called a "Patent "—a patent of- noble
chivalry? 3. Should the Order have a new badger-
On the first question very sound judgment was
condition was made that the drawing would re-
produce for printing. About one hundred mem-
bers tried their hands, but almost all sent pencil
sketches, or those done on common paper in com-
mon ink. Sueh we could do nothing with, though
a few wei>- quite funny. Here is the best— the
prize-winning drawing. The series was made by
Beverly S. King.
Memorial Stones in the School Building.
Recently two Founders suggested that Chapters.
ela--':~. anil individual contributors give memorial
stones for the Round Table School Building, said
stones to bear the names of the giver. The thought
was to have as many States represented as possi-
ble. Another Founder, fearing the cost of trans-
portation, and that so many different colors of
stone as would, of course, result, wrote to say that
it might be better to have the stones made at a
quarry near iiood Will.
The suggestion is that any person, old or-young,
a Chapter, a class, or a society of young persons,
furnish these memorial stones made of the nni.
lorn, size of 30 inches long, 'n, in.-hes wide, and '.I
iiK-h-s thick : they form th- bast-line on which the
brick wall i>*t s Th'-y thus cmne :i few feet from
the ground, where they may hi- easily read. Sev.
eral Chapters ha \ e responded already, and say they
are ready to forward memorials. One of these is
the Robert Louis Stevenson Chapter, of Cincinnati.
exercised, we think. Indeed, you showed a keener
insight and greater breadth than we expected.
There is no doubt about the decision, for it is a
three-to-one one. It is that the eighteen-year age
limit be retained; but once a member, always a
member, without age restriction. That is, mem-
bers do not cease to be members upon reaching
their eighteenth birthday.
Founders in very large numbers urge the admis-
sion ot persons or any age, upon applicat ion. to tie
styled not Knights and Ladies, but Patrons ot the
Order. We think this a happy solution of the
problem, and shall, unless we hear objection, pro-
vide a Patron Patent, similar in design to the mem-
ber's patent.
The second point is unanimously agreed, and so
is the third, save that many ask that badge i
be submitted. To this we agree, and will submit
the same as soon as possible. When the new pat-
ents and badges are ready we will announce the
fact, and old members may have new Patents by
asking for them. The prices of the new b.nlL-'i^
cannot be told until the design is selected ; but an
effort will be made to have one at ten cents,
and one in gold at si nii'-where between fifty cents
ami SI- So many new readers have come to us
lately, that as early as we can find space, we will
print, again the objects of the Order, how to join
it. the story of the Good Will School, etc. The
onler ii to have some splendid prize and other
offers soon.
638
S> IRtnfeS. ©
No. 87.— CHAUADE.
A worthy foe: a trusty friend, the safest friend
to have,
For if you differ, never mind, no danger is to
brave.
A friend so easily shut up, so readily put down,
Can give no cause for sore regret, for deep re-
morse to drown.
A thing almost all people hate, and nervous peo-
ple fear.
So ugly, that to naturalists it only can be dear.
Yet when that hateful stage is past it lives its
little hour,
A floating gleam of beauty, it blossoms like a
flower.
The very happiest life on earth, I do believe, is
this,
He sits and lets your world go by, and his own
world is his !
And if he does no good at all, he surely does no
harm.
And science, wisdom, wit, and song, fill ail his
ilavs with charm.
Possibly 'tis an idle life, only a life of ease,
Or worse than all, a selfish life, but don't dis-
turb him, please !
No. 88.— A STUDY IN CATS.
1. A list of numerous things of worth.
2. An inundation of the earth.
3. A kind of useful fishing-boat.
4-5. Some helps to sailors when afloat.
6. A mineral used for making soap.
7. A transformation of a trope.
8. The parent of the butterfly.
9. A bad affection of the eye.
10. A surgeon's amputating knife.
11. A poultice that may save your life.
13. A book that should be ofteuer read.
13. A resting-place for honored dead.
14. A sepulchre in foreign lauds.
15. A cruel whip with many strands.
16. A cataract or waterway.
IT. I take your senses quite away.
18. A spicy sauce to use with meat.
19. A class of workers with four feet.
20. A kind of ivy often found.
21-22. Sciences of reflected sound.
23. A heavy armor used of old.
24. The doctrines of the church, I'm told.
25. A mineral used for isinglass.
26. A useful herb you often pass.
27. An engine used for throwing stones.
28. A remedy for broken bones.
29. I form a chain of many links.
30. A philosophic list, methinks.
31. Essential to the violin.
32. I'm noted for my scaly skin.
* * *
The Prize Story Contest.
Members forget that it takes a much longer
time to read several hundred stories and weigh
their merits than it does to examine puzzle an-
swers. To this fact is due the necessary delay
over our last Story Competition. But the deci-
sions have been made, and the First Prize Story,
with names of all successful contestants, will be
announced next week.
* * *
TOlaut Corner.
Janet Priest writes to say that the yell of the
University of Minnesota is "Hah, rah, rah, Ski U-
rnah— Varsity, Var-ify : Minne-So-ta!" and the col-
ors old-gold and mamon. Ralph Cotter and others
are reminded that one certificate admits to all
branches of the Order. The new certificates will
be called " Patents " They will be very handsome.
Due notice will lie given when they are ready, and
all will receive who ask for them. Camera prize
offers are now under consideration. M. B. Y. :
Rose Standish, mentioned by Longfellow, came in
the Mayflower, the wife of Miles Standish. She was
of English stock, but we can find little about her.
ny one around the Table know of her early
life? She died of famine and privation in the next
January but one after the Pilgrims landed. It
was the second courtship of Miles that Longfellow
describes.
HARPER'S HOUND TABLE
LARRY, JACK, AND THE BELLS.
A GOODLY number of years ago there
dwelt iu Ireland two brothers whose
names were Larry and Jack. They were
witty and humorous, and played many a
mad prank on their unsuspecting neigh-
bors. Now it seems that the town they
'lived in had iu its church steeple two un-
commonly large bells, and the clatter, whrn
rung, was a source of auuoyauee t any
people. Being church bells, no complaints
were made, although they were the subject
of many a conversation.
Larry and Jack for a long time had their
eyes and minds on these same bells, and
iiually they decided to effectually stop the
ringing by cutting tin- rope?, oft close to the
clappers. Accordingly oue night they ef-
fected an entrance to the church steeple,
but were at a loss how to reach the bells
without climbing the ropes, the only means
of communication. This they finally de-
cided to do, but first they piled a lot of pew-
cushions ou the floor to break any fall that
might take place. Then Larry, throwing
off his jacket, grasped one of the ropes and
very slowly worked his way up to the
bells.
It was either stupidity or forgetfulness
on Larry's part, but when he reached the
bells he whipped out his knife and cut the
rope close to the bell over his head. Cou-
sequeutly down came poor Larry, striking
the cushions with a sounding thump. It
knocked the breath out of him, and Jack
thought surely the fall had killed him.
Larry, however, quickly put him at ease by
crying out : "Faith, Jack, oi'm all right. If
it \\asn't in a church oi am, oi'd swear.
Begoira either the earth struck me, or oi
struck the earth, but heavens knows we
have a very strong attachment for each
other."
"Larry, you're stupid, me boy ; yerhead is
as thick as sour cream. Oi'll show yez how
to manage a little affair loike that," and
Jack commenced climbing the other rope.
Now, Lun y," In' cried, when he reached the
top, " watch me show ye/, how to do it." and,
unlike Larry, he cut the rope from under
his feet, and huug there dangling without
means of reaching the floor.
Afraid to drop, his brother was forced to
seek assistance from the town, and for a
long while the two brothers were the laugh
of the county.
A SOLDIER'S ANSWER.
1 ^MPEROR NAPOLEON, after oue of MS
2l Kreit battles, gathered tlie remnant of
liis forces around him, and proceeded to
compliment them iu his characteristic man-
lier, so endearing to the hearts of his M>1-
diers. Finally Company D, of the. Guards,
who had been ill the thick of the iij;ht, wen-
ordered to present themselves, and to the
astonishment of the Emperor a single sol-
dier appeared. He was bound up iu ban-
dages, and could barely walk.
"Where is the rest of your company?"
asked the Emperor.
A tear welled iu the old soldier's aye as
he answered, " Your Majesty, they lie on the
field dead," and then wofully added, " They
fought better than I."
IVORY SOAP
PURE
When you pack for a summer outing, do not forget to take some
Ivory Soap. You will enjoy your baths the more for not having to use
the soap furnished by the hotel.
THE PROCTER & GAMBLE Co., CINTI.
MONARCH
King of all Bicycles.
CARD
Seta any name in cue miaule; prints 5uo carda an
hour. YOU can make money with it. A font of
pretty type, also Indelible Ink, Type Holder. P*d«
and Tweewrs. Urst Linen Marker; worth $1.00,
Outfit and lari;e catalogue of ILMMJ BarcaiES.
It. II. Ingersoll & Bro. 65 Cortlandt tit. -V Y, illy
and Naturalists' Supplies.
Egg Drill, Blowpipe, and
llook, nickel - plated, in
pocket case, only 35 t-ts.
Illustrated catalogue for 2-cent stump.
C1IAS. K. REEL), 2ti2 Mtiiu Street, Worcester, Mass.
BIRDS' EGGS
TRADB-MARK.
Five Styles. Weights, 18 to 25 Pounds.
IM-loes., $85 and S1OO.
MONARCH CYCLE CO.
Factory and Main Office, Lakeand HalstedSts., Chicago.
Eastern Branch : 79 Reade St. & 97 Chambers St., N.Y. ,
The C. F. GUYON Co., Ltd., Managers.
WANTED. 100,000 BOYS,
In -HI the I < ICI Iv \ MARKING TAG for
mark ing hats, etc., now and in Sum me r vacntion.
Sells at siirht. Send 10 cents iu coin for samplo. Ad-
dress Eureka Marking Tag; Co,, Cedar Falls, Iowa.
HARPER'S PERIODICALS.
JPer Year:
HAKPEU'S MAGAZINE l'ostai/e Free,$i 00
HAKPKR'S WEEKLY 4 00
HARPERS HAZAK " 400
HAKPEK'S ROUND TABLE 200
liuiikxfllers and Postmasters uxuatt<i receive Kubscrip*
tioJis. SitliM-n litmus *i'n( direct to the pitblixhers should
be accompanied l)y Post-uflice Muney Order or Draft.
HAKl'EK & BROTHERS. Franklin Square, \,\.
Afloat with the Flag
By
W. J. HENDERSON
AUTHOR OF "SEA YARXS FOR BOYS," ETC.
Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $i 25.
A good, healthy story, attractively written, full of stirring in-
cident and adventure, Mr. Henderson's book will doubtless find
many enthusiastic readers. — N. Y. Times.
A most captivating story told in the luminous and trenchant
style which characterizes this author's work. — Plula. Press.
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York
K^~ For sale by all booksellers, or will be mailed l>y the publishers, postage prepaid,
on receipt of the price.
639
. fat
TWO AMBITIOUS CUBS.
AN EXPLANATION.
MAMMA. " Willie, bow did that caudle-grease conie to get
all over your bureau ?"
WILLIE. "I suppose, mamma, it was because it couldn't
..get into the wick to bum up."
BOBBY'S TROUBLE.
I'M generally coutenter
Tban any boy I kuow,
I'm satisfied most always
Wbate'er may come or go.
But tbis time I'm dissatisfied,
A most peculiar biz!
There's something that I want to do,
But I dou't kuow what it is.
PHRENOLOGIST. " I see that you have a good many lumps
•on your head; they all mean something."
CHAULIE. " I guess they do. The larger oue is where
Fred Masou struck me with a bat ; the oue next to it I got
from falliug down the stairs."
MOTHER. " Jack, what are you goiug to do with the
screw-driver?"
JACK. " I'm goiug to fasten the screw which Willie Masou
said I had loose this morning."
THE STEAMBOAT.
THK steamboat is a wagon ;
On wheels it runs its course.
The machinery's the harness,
The engine is the horse.
AN EXTRAORDINARY HAPPENING.
"I SAW my papa's last book before he wrote it," said
Jimniieboy.
" How did that happen ?" asked the visitor.
"It was a blank-book then, "said Jinnnieboy.
BOBBY (on ferry-boat). "I kuow why the river is so
inrv lo-cbiv."
JACK. "Why?"
BOBBY. •• Because it is crossed soofteu."
LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE.
MAMMA. "You must take this medicine like a good boy,
Tommy ; it is spring medicine."
TOMMY. "All right, mamma, if it will only make the
spring coniv, HO'S I cau play ball."
UNCLE JOHN. " Jimmie. if I wriv to take one dollar and
-divide it into four parts, and give, a, quarter to each of
vour brothers, what would be left .'''
JlMMIE. " 1 would."
AN old gentleman, within a short distance of the grave,
remarked to his coachman, "Alas, James, I shall shortly go
on a longer journey than you have ever driven me."
JAMES (who Jiad often l»-<n Im-uM for revl;h-ns driring).
"Rest easy, master, for it's a journey down hill all the
way."
"I DON'T know why it is, Charlie, but you are always
quarrelling. I dare say you quarrel with yourself.'1
"Can't help it; every oue does that has a nose and
chin."
"Why, how do you make that out?"
"Words always pass between them, you know."
LITTLE fishy in the brook,
Went out oue day on bis own hook,
Despite the warning of his mother.
And then, alas,
It came to pass
He found the hook of Jinnuie's brother,
And no one knows where he is at
Since he went whiskiug oft' on that.
i ; rsTLK.MAN. " Here Pat, pull off these boots of mine."
I 'A i- (lunkiiid at HIK gaitlrmnn'e extraordinary large foot).
•• Sm,. your honor, I'd willingly do that same foryez, but it's
beyond me power. The forks of the road below here might
git the better of thim."
A CRITICISM.
THE baby's picture is not good,
I tell you plain and flat;
Not even when he's eatiu' food
Is be as still as that.
"Diss is to-morrer," said Russell, as he waked early oue
morning.
"No, it ain't," said Jimmieboy. " This is to-day.'1
• N<>. •tain't." said Russell. "Yesterday was to-day.
Mamma said so, and she said last night when 1 waked up
it would be to-niorrer. Diss i« to-iuorrer."
640
HARPERS
H
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, by HARPRR & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 817.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JUNE 25, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY
TWO DOLLARS A TEAR.
OAKLEIGH.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAXD.
CHAPTER I.
IT was a large house, standing well back from the broad
highway that leads from Breutoii to IVlliain, so far
back, indeed, and at the end of such a long shndy drivt-,
that it could not be seeii for some few minutes after turn-
ing iu from the road.
The approach was pretty, the avenue winding through
the trees, with au occasional glimpse of tlie meadows be-
yond. The road forked where the trees ended, and en-
circled the lawn, or the "heater -piece " as the family
called it, it being iu the exact shape of a flat iron. The
house stood on high ground, and there were uo trees very
near.
It was a white house, with given blinds, solid and sub-
stantial looking. The roof of the piazza was upheld by
tall white columns, and vines growing at either end re-
lieved the bareness. On the southern side of the house a
small conservatory had been added. On the other side the
ground sloped to the Charles River, though in summer one
could see ouly the water from the upper windows, because
of the trees which grew so thick upon the banks.
This was Oakleigh,the home of the Franklins, so nami '1
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
because of a giaut oak-tree winch spread its huge branches
not far from (lie hack of lllc house.
As to tin- Franklin*-. 1 here were live of them, and they
were all assembled nn the front porch.
Tin, ugh ii was the last day of April, spring was unusually
early for Massachusetts this year, and the day was warm
and clear, suggesting summer and delightful possibilities of
oul-door fiui.
Kdith, the eldest, sat wilh her work. It was unusual
work for a girl of barely sixteen. A large olil-fashioned
basket was on the floor by her side, with piles of children's
chillies ill it, and she was slowly and laboriously darning a
slocking o\ cr a china egg.
Tli<> children had no mother, and a good deal devolved
upon Eiiiih.
Jack and Cynthia, the twins, came next in age, and they
were just fourteen. They looked alike, though Jack was
much the taller of the two, and his hair did not curl so
tightly as Cynthia's. She sat on the- steps of the piazza.
Her sailor hat was cast on (he ground at her feet, and her
pretty golden-brown hair \\as.as usual, somewhat awry.
It was one of the trials of Kdith's life that Cynthia's hair
would not keep smooth.
Jack lay al full length on the grass, sometimes flat on
his back, staring al the sky. sometimes rolling over, the
more easily to address his sisters.
Jack had a project in his mind, and was very much iu
earnest. Cynthia, of course', was already on Ills side — she
had known of it from the tirst moment the idea popped into
his head, but Edith had just been told, and she needed con-
vincing.
Janet and Willy, " the children," were playing at the
other end of the porch. They were only six and live, and
(lid not count in the family discussions.
"There's money in it, I'm sure," said Jack; "and if I can
only get father to agree with me and advance sonic money,
1 can pay him back in less than a year."
"Papa hasn't much money to spare, just now," said Edith,
"and 1 have always heard that there was a good deal of
risk about raising chickens from an incubator."
"My dear girl," returned Jack, with an air of lofty au-
thority, " allow me to say that yon don't know much about
it. I've been reading upon hens for two days, and I find
that, allowing for all risks — bad eggs, inexperience, weasels,
and skunks, and diseases. \ on're sure to make' some profit
at the end of a year. Now, I'm late in thinking of it, I
know. To-morrow is the 1st of May. and I couldn't yet
more than three hatches this summer, but that would
probably pay the cost of tlir incubator. 1 can get a iirst-
rate one for forty dollars, and I can buy one 'brooder.' If I
bought OIIB I could make the others like it."
"But your eggs ?" said Edith. " You would have to pay
a great deal for eggs."
" Kggs would be about five or six dollars a hundred, and
it takes two hundred to till the machine. I should want
In get a line breed, of course — Brahmas, or Cochins, or
Leghorns, probably, and they cost more : but, you see, when
they begin to lav, there comes my monev right back to
me."
" Wheai they do," said Edith, sceptically.
" Edith, don't be so nn an !'' cried Cynthia. "Jack wants
to begin to make money, and I think he's right. I'm go-
ing to help him all I can, and we want you to be oil our
side to help talk over papa. He is always telling Jack
that he'll soon have to begin to work, and now here's a
chance."
"Papa wants Jack to make some money to help support
us when he is old enough, but he wants him to finish his
education first, of course. And I am sure he doesn't want
him to lay out a lot of money, as lie would have to do in
raising hens."
"That's just like a girl," said Jack, scornfully. " Don't
you know that there's always a lot of risk ill anything you
undertake, and you've got to take the chances? There are
very few tilings you don't have to put money into."
"Of course, for a grown man. But a boy of your age
ought to work for a salary, or something of that sort — riot
go investing."
Cynthia stirred uneasily. She knew this was just the
wrong thing to say to Jack. Unfortunately, Edith was
so apt to say the wrong thing.
.lack sprang to his feet. "There's no use arguing with
girls. 1 may be a • boy of my age,' but I've got some sense,
and I knuw there's money in this. I'm not going to say
another word about it to anybody until father comes home,
anil I can talk it over with him."
And Jack walked off around the corner of the house,
whistling to Beu and Chester, the two big setters, to follow
him, which they did wilh joyful alacrity.
"There!" exclaimed Cynthia, "now he's gone off mad. I
don't see why you said that, Edith."
"Said what? I'm sure it is true. The idea of a boy of
his age —
"There you go again. Jack may be young, but he is
trying awfully hard to help papa, and you needn't go twit-
ting him about his age."
"I'm sure I never meant to twit him," said Edith; "ami
I think he's awfully touchy. But it is half past four, Cyn-
thia, and time to go meet papa. Won't you be sure to
brush your hair and put on a fresh neck-tie or something ?
You do look so untidy. That skirt is all frayed out around
the bolt. nn."
"Oh, bother my hair and my neck-tie, and everything
else !" cried Cynthia, though with perfect good -nature.
"Edith, you make such a fuss ! Shall I go meet papa?"
"No, I'll go; but I wish you would order the horse. Now,
Cynthia, don't forget your hair, will you? Papa hates to
see yon untidy."
For answer Cynthia banged the screen-door as she dis-
appeared into the house and walked through the wide hall,
humming as she went.
"What shall I do with these children ?" sighed Edith
to herself, as she laid down the stocking, mended at last,
and prepared to put up her work. " I'm sure I do the best
I can, and what I think Mir mother would have liked, but
it is very hard. If Cynthia only would be more neat!"
A loud crash interrupted her thoughts. At the end of
the piazza, where the children had been playing, was a
mass of chairs and tables, while from the midst of the con-
fusion came roars of pain, anger, and fright.
"What h the- matter?" cried Edith, running to the scene,
and overturning her work-basket in her flight.
It took several minutes to extricate the screaming chil-
dren, set them on their feet, and ascertain that no bones
were broken.
"(iet the red oil!" shrieked Janet ; "that naughty boj
has killed me ! I'm dead! I'm dead! Get the red oil !"
"It's no such a thing !" shouted Willy. "I didn't do it.
and I'm dead, too. I'uh ! I'm all bludge. Get the red
oil !"
Cynthia had witnessed the scene from the window, and
appeared just in time with the bottle of red oil, the pan-
acea for all the Franklin bumps and bruises.
"What were you doing, you naughty children ?" said
Edith, as she wiped the "bludge" from Willy's lips, and
found that it came from a very small scratch, while Jauet
was scarcely hurt at all.
"We were only playing cars, and Willy icould ride on
the engine, and made it topple over, and — "
"It's no such a thing!" interposed Willy. "Girls don't
know uothiu"bout steam-cars, and Janet went and put her
feet on the back of uiy chair, and — "
He -was interrupted by a blow from Janet's small fat
fist, which he immediately returned in kind, and then both
began to scream.
"You are both as bad as you can be, and I've a good
mind to send you to bed," said Edith, severely, shaking
Janet as she spoke.
Janet cast herself upon Cynthia. " Edith's horrid to us !
She is so cross. Cynthia, don't let her send us to bed. I'm
sorry. I'm sorry I hit Willy ; I'm sorry we upset the chairs :
I'm sorry for everything."
" Well, here conies the horse, and I must go," said Edith.
" Oh, look at my basket !"
And it was indeed a sight. Spools, scissors, china eggs,
stockings, everything lay iu Vrild confusion on the floor.
G4-2
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
"Nevermind. I'll pick them up," said Cynthia. "Dou't
bother about them, Edith. The children will help me. Come
along, Willy arid Jauet. Let's see which can find the most
spools."
Edith looked back doubtfully as, having put on her hat,
she got iuto the carriage. What would her basket be like
when she next saw it ? But it was kind of Cynthia, aud
how ruuch better Cynthia managed the children than she
did. What was the reason ? She was thinking it over,
•when she heard her name called loudly from behind, and,
pulling in the horse quickly, she waited, wondering what
had happened now.
Cynthia came flying down the avenue. "Edith! Edith!
Wait a minute ! I forgot to tell you. Dou't say anything
to papa about Jack's scheme, will you ? Let him tell."
" Oh, Cynthia, how you frightened me ! I thought some-
thing dreadful was the matter."
"But don't, will you, Edith? Promise! You know —
well, Edith, Jack cau explain it so much better himself."
Cynthia was too kind-hearted to tell Edith that she
•would spoil it all if she said anything first, but Edith knew
that was what she meant. A sharp reply was on her lips,
but she controlled herself in time.
" Very well," she said, quietly, " I won't."
And then she drove on, and Cynthia went back to the
house satisfied.
Edith had a quick, impatient temper, and it was not an
easy matter for her to curb her tongue. Her mother had
died five years ago, when she was but eleven years old.
Then au aunt had come to live with them, but she had
lately married and gone to South America, aud now there
•was no one else, and Edith was considered old enough to
keep house and look after the childreu.
The road wound through the woods, with here aud there
a view of the river, leading finally iuto the old New Eng-
land town and funning; its main street.
Tall elm-trees shaded the approach to the village, and
fiue old houses, with well-kept lawns in front, were to be
seeu on either side.
The horse that Edith drove was by uo means a fiue one,
and the old buggy was somewhat unsteady aud rattled
alarmingly. In other words, the Franklins were poor, but
they had hosts of friends : and as Edith entered the village
she nodded right aud left, to the various people she met.
Every cue liked the Franklins, aud the family had lived at
Oakleigh for generations.
As she reached the station the train came in. A throng
of carriages filled the broad space in front, aud Edith was
obliged to draw up at some little distance from the cars.
Presently she saw her father coming towards her, aud with
him was an odd little figure, the sight of which made Edith's
heart siuk with apprehension.
"Oh dear! oh dear !" she exclaimed to herself, "if there
isn't Auut Betsey !"
Then she shrank back into the corner of the buggy, and
watched the amused glances that were cast upon her rela-
tive by all who saw her.
Miss Betsey Triukett, of Wayborough, was Edith's great-
aunt, aud constituted one of the largest thorns in her side.
She was old, she was odd, she was distinctly conspicuous;
aud Edith disliked above all things to be conspicuous.
Miss Betsey trotted along the platform by her nephew's
side, quite uucouscious of the tumult she was raising in the
breast of her grauduiece. She was dressed in a short,
scaut velveteen gown that might have belonged to her
grandmother, and a large bonnet of the same date, from
which hung a figured lace veil. A gay shawl was folded
about her slender shoulders, and Mr. Franklin carried her
carpet-bag with the silver lock and key.
She waved a welcome to Edith with a mitted hand, aud
Edith, recovering herself, nodded in response.
" How do yon do, Aunt Betsey ? What a surprise !"
"Yes. my dear, I like to surprise you uow and then. I
came up to Huston town on business, and your father in-
sisted upon my coming out to see you all. In fact, I knew
lie \\nuld, so I just popped my best cap aud my knitting
into my bag. along with some little things for you children,
aud here I am."
Aud she stepped nimbly into the buggy, followed by Mr.
Franklin.
"We shall be a 'Marblehead couple,'" he said, as he
balanced himself on the seat aud took the reins.
Edith detested " Marblehead couples," otherwise driving
three on a seat, aud she hid herself as much as possible in
her corner, and hoped that people would uot know she was
there.
Miss Betsey chatted away with her nephew, and in time
the three miles were covered, and they turned iuto the
Oakleigh drive. Edith had recovered somewhat by this
time, having been engaged in scolding herself all the way
from the village for her uucordial feelings.
The others welcomed Aunt Betsey must cordially. Her
carpet-bag always contained some rare treat for the little
oues; and, besides, they were a hospitable family.
" But come with me, girls," said Miss Betsey, myste-
riously, wheu she had bestowed her gifts. " There is some-
thing I want to consult you about."
She trotted up the long flight of stairs to her accustom-
ed room with the springiness of a young girl, Edith aud
Cynthia following her. She closed the door behind them,
and seating herself in the rocking-chair, looked at them
solemnly.
"Do you remark anything different about my appear-
ance ?"
"Why, of course, Aunt Betsey!" exclaimed Cynthia ;
" your hair !"
"Well, I want to know! Cynthy, you are very smart.
You get it from your great - grandmother Triukett, for
whom you were named. Well, what do you think of it .'"
Edith had hastened to the closet, and was opening
drawers aud removing garments from the hooks in appar-
ently a sudden desire for neatness. lu reality she was'
convulsed with laughter.
Cynthia controlled herself, and replied, with gravity,
" Did it grow there ?"
Miss Betsey rocked with satisfaction, her hauds folded iu
her velveteen lap.
"I knew it was a success. No one would ever know it,
would they ? My dears, I bought it to-day in Boston towu.
The woman told me it looked real natural. I dou't know
as I like the idea exactly of wearing other people's hair,
but one has to keep up with the times, and mine was get-
ting very scant. Silas said to me the other night, said he,
' Betsey, strikes me your hair isn't as thick as it used to be.'
That set me thinking, and I remember I'd heard tell of
these frontispieces, ami I then and there made up some
business I'd have to come to Boston towu about, aud here I
am. I bought two while I was about it. The woman said
it was a good plan, iu case one got lost or rumpled, and
here it is in this box. Just lay it away carefully for me,
Cyuthy, my dear.'1
The old lady's thin and grayish locks had been replaced
by a false front of smooth brown, with puffs at the side,
and a nice white part of must unnatural straightuess down
the middle.
" You see, I like to please Silas," she continued. " I'll
tell you again, as I've told you before, girls, Silas Green,
aud I we've been keeping steady company now these forty
years. But 1 can't give up the view from my sitting-room
windows to go aud live at his house on the other hill, and
he can't give up the view from his best-room windows to
come and live at my house. We've tried and tried, aud we
can't either of us give up. Aud so he just comes every
Sunday night to see me, as he's done these forty years, and
I guess it '11 go on a while longer."
They were interrupted by the sound of the tea bell.
Miss Betsey hastily settled her cap over the new front,
and they all went down stairs, Cynthia pinching Edith to
express her feelings, aud longing to tell Jack about Aunt
Betsey's latest.
But they found Jack having an animated discussion with
his father, his thoughts ou business plans intent.
Cynthia anxiously surveyed the t\\<>. and she feared
from appearances that Mr. Franklin did not intend to
yield.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
643
HARPER'S EOUND TABLE
LIFE IN A LIGHT-HOUSE.
BY A. J. ENSIGN.
Ai'oi.O biting west wind was blowing. The sea close
under the beach was smooth and steel blue, and the
breakers reared their white crests slowly, falling in dull
booms of muttered thunder. Beyond the rollers a wide
expanse of ice-hard gray water swept away to the iron Hue
of the horizon, where strange shapes of writhing billows
tossed against the glow of the rising moon. Half a dozen
stars of the first magnitude swam in moisture in the zenith,
and far away in the west a smudge of black cloud, touched
on its lower edge with blood red, kept the record of the
swift winter sunset.
" It will blow from the south'ard and east'ard afore
inornin', an' it'll snow," said the light-house keeper, as he
peered out into the growing gloom, pierced as it was by
the rays of the lamp which
he had set burning half an
hour before.
"Ay, "said his assistant,
" an' we'll have fog, too,
I'm thiukin'."
"Well, get steam up for
the siren, an' stan' by fur
trouble afore dawn."
The predictions of both
men came true. Before
two o'clock in the morning
the wind had shifted to
the southeast, and was
blowing a gale. Great
tangled masses of brown
cloud were flying across
the sky at terrific speed,
and in and out of the rifts
shot the red moon flaming
like a comet. The breakers no long-
er reared and fell slowly, but hurled
themselves in shrieking masses of
foam upon the stricken beach. A
yelling as often thousand evil spir-
its surrounded the caged lautern;
but the great yellow light blazed
out its •warning upon the black wa-
ters. But not for long; for out of
the southeast swept the impenetrable
gray fog that no light could pierce.
Then the hoarse moaning blast of the
steam-siren sent its cry of warning
out over the raging waters. At four
o'clock the gale was terrific, and
ever and anon the shriek of a steam-
whistle told that some vessel was
groping her way toward the- en-
trance to the harbor. Suddenly the whistle burst into a
series of rapid screams.
" Wake up, Tom !" shouted the assistant keeper, who was
on watch. "There's a tug out yonder that's parted the
hawser of her tn\v."
The keeper sprang to his feet and listened to the despair-
ing screams of the whistle out in the fog.
"You're right!" he exclaimed. "And whatever's gone
adrift '11 be ashore in less than an hour. They'll never
hear those whistles at the station with the wind in this
quarter."
He jumped to the telephone and called up the life-saving
slut ion a mile above.
"There's a tug off here," he said, "and she's lost her
tow."
" All right," came the answer ; " we'll look out for "em."
Half au hour later a big three-masted coal barge, which
thirty years earlier had been au English bark, was in the
breakers half a mile above the life-saving station ; but
owing to the sharp lookout for her, all her )>.-o|>le, three
men, a boy, and a woman, were taken ashore safely in the
breeches buoy. At sunup the other barge, which had
been in tow of the tug, was seen three miles off shore hove
to under her leg-of-muttou canvas. She was picked up by
an incoming steamer, and towed into the harbor.
That is a sample of the experience of a light -house
keeper whose, light is on the land. He has a comparatively
comfortable berth ; but all lights are not so pleasantly
situated. Some are situated at considerable distances from
the shore, on dangerous reefs. Jlost of the houses so situ-
ated are built on iron-screw piles, like those at Thimble
Shoals, Virginia, Fowey Rocks, Alligator Reef, and Som-
brero Key, Florida. These bouses stand on iron legs, which
are screwed down into the rocks on the bottom, and the
keeper's only means of leaving his confined dwelling is by
the boat, which swings at davits, as it would aboard a ship.
It has been found that a light-house built in this manner
will stand the shocks of heavy weather much better than
oue made of solid masonry. The storm wave of the At-
lantic Ocean travels at the rate of about thirty miles an
liour, aud when one of
these waves, towering
from fifteen to thirty-five
feet, strikes au obstacle,
such as a light-house, it
deals a blow whose force
cau be measured only in
hundreds of tons. The
iron - screw pile - house,
however, is elevated far
enough above the level of
the sea to escape the blows
of the waves, which meet
with no greater resistance
than that offered by the
slender legs of the struc-
ture.
Let us imagine the ex-
perience of a keeper of one
of these lights iu a great
storm. It is September.
All day the sea has been
deathly calm, but with a
slow swell of ominous
breadth aud weight. The
sky has been of a dead
gray color, and has seem-
ed to hang so low that
one might almost reach it
from the top of the lan-
tern. Toward night the
wind begins to come in
fitful gusts that moan
around the light - house
like the voices of warn-
ing spirits. The keeper
goes out on the balcony
aud looksanxiously around
the horizon. He knows that they are in for a bad night,
and he knows that even iron-screw light-houses have been
carried away in great gales. But he goes calmly and care-
fully about his work. He sees that the boat and all other
objects outside the house are well secured. He sees the
lamp well supplied with oil and trimmed wicks. He gives
the lenses aud reflectors a few more affectionate rubs, and
as the sun goes down fire-red into a crimson sea he lights
the wicks and goes down to his supper.
The gusts of wind outside increase iu number aud in
force. Strange shriekiugs and moauings break from the
crannies of the light-house. It is blowing half a gale now,
and the sea is beginning to rise. Fiercer aud fiercer be-
come the blasts. The light-house begins to vibrate like a
fiddle. A strange humming, as of the giant strings of some,
enormous -<£olian harp, is added to the, shriller screams of
the wind. It is the gale singing through the iron leys and
braces of the structure. And now a squall more violent
than any that have preceded it comes yelling across the
sea. It tears the foaming crests off half a dozen waves,
aud sends them swirling down to leeward in shivering
sheets of snowy spoondrift. With fearful force the blast
strikes the light-house, at the same time hurling some of
A RESCUE FROM THE LIGHT.
044
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
TAKEN ASHORE IJJ A BREECHES-BUOY.
the spoondrift against its weather side with a crash. What
•was that? Did the whole building sway?
The keeper shuts his lips tightly ami goes up to look at
the lamp. It is burniug brightly. lie descends again,
and puts on his oil-skins and sou'wester. Waiting for a lull
iu the gale, he bolts out upou the balcony, hastily closing
the door behind him. For a inomeut be stands, clinging
with all his might to the iron railing, while the mad wind
seems to try tp strip bis clothing from him. How the
building trembles under the furious assaults of the wind!
What an awful roar the conflicting elements make around
its iron walls! The keeper's eyes are half blinded by tbe
driving rain and salt spray. But he can see by the light
of the faithful lamp above him towering walls of black and
shining water sweeping down out of the fathomless dark-
ness beyond as if to engulf his little refuge. They rush
forward and disappear within the circle of gloom below the
light, and the next instant he bears them hissing and
shrieking around tbe sturdy iron leg.
There! There is the monster wave of all, heaving its
mighty crest twenty-five feet, so that the keeper sees it
level with his eyes as he gazes, fascinated. It is coming,
it is coming. Ah, it is too big to pass the reef without
breaking. See! It has toppled over, and goes boiling
under tbe gallery in a wild mass of ghostly foam. The
keeper shivers a little, shakes his head, and goes back to
bis warm room, muttering a prayer for the safety of the
sailors on the sea. You and I would mutter one for our
own, perhaps, if we stood on a swaying balcony above a
storm-torn ocean.
Before morning the keeper hears the report of a gun.
He knows too well tbe meaning of that, sound. It, is a sig-
nal of distress. He rushes out on tbe balcony again, and
SITS the dim form of a dismasted ship driving upon the
reef. What can he do ? Not a thing. He calls up his
assistants, and they helplessly watch the vessel strike.
They hear the cries of her people. They see the waves
burst over her in great clouds of seething spray. Sud-
denly one of the men utters a shout.
" See ! There's a spar driving down on us with some one
on it."
Now the keeper and his assistants can do something, and
they move with the rapidity of men whose wits are accus-
tomed to the emergencies of tbe deep. Projecting from
one side of the house is an iron arm, at the end of which
hang a block and tackle. This is used for hoisting sup-
plies from the boat which brings them off. Quickly a line
is fastened around the hook at the bottom of the tackle.
This is to give the shipwrecked mariner something by
which to hold. The broken and half-buried spar sweeps
down toward the light-house. Two men are clinging to
it with the strength of despair. The tackle is lowered,
and as the spar drives against one of the stout iron legs
of the light-house one of the two men catches the rope,
and is quickly hauled up to the gallery. At once the
tackle is lowered again, and the other man is hauled up.
Half blind, half drowned, staggering with exhaustion, they
are taken into the bouse where warm drinks and dry cloth-
ing revive them. Then they sit beside the stove and tell
the dreadful story of the wreck, while the howling of the
wind, the thunder of the seas, and the swaying of the
house remind them all that the storm still rages without.
Finally the great gale ends, and gradually the sea goes
down. The shipwrecked seamen are anxious to reach land,
and the light-house keeper, upon whose stores two extra
mouths make serious inroads, is willing to have them go.
Late in the afternoon of the third day they see smoke on
the horizon. By-and-by the smoke appears to rise from a
little black speck. Gradually the speck grows larger, and
at length it assumes the outlines of a small steam-vessel.
"That's her," says the keeper. "Now you'll be able to
get ashore."
"Is it the tender?" asks one of tbe wrecked sailors.
"Yes," says the keeper. "She was due here just about
tbe time the gale set iu."
It is the stanch little light-house tender, whose duty it is
to visit the various lights iu her district, and replenish
their supplies. Many a rough time she has at sea, and
many a narrow escape ; but the pressing necessities of the
keepers of the isolated lights embolden tbe captains of
tenders to brave many dangers. The tender is alongside
RECEIVING SUPPLIES IN CALM WEATHER.
645
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
the light-house in due time, and the tackle which so lately
: human liv.-s hoists up boxes of provisions, cans of
d other articles. The two shipwrecked sailors are
,mi aboard the tender tb l>o landed at the nearest port,
;,,,,! in ii short tin"- the little vessel is once more a smudge
uf smoke upon tin; horizon.
And so lei us l.id good-by to the light-house and the
kc.,.|M-r. We know now that lie is a brave and faithful fel-
low, who, if need be, will lower :iway bis little boat, and
pull to the rescue of those in danger. We know that in
spring and in .summer, in autumn and in winter, in calm
,.i storm, in clear weather or in fog. in health or in sickness,
he will be found always at his po*t, always at his duty.
•We know that when the skies are clear, and the sea smooth,
and the stars bright, the hini|> will burn and send its gentle
\ellow rays out upon the inky waters to guide the mariner
o\ ,r the trackless sea. \Ve know that when the gray cur-
tain of the fog hides the light, the hoarse scream of the
steam-siren or brazen clang of the fog-bell will echo over
the water, and warn the sailor against hidden dangers.
For always and everywhere the light -house keeper is a
brave, honest, faithful man ; humble, indeed, but the re-
liance and the guide of " those who go down to the sea iu
ships."
r*t ot' Amateur Photneraphera, and the Editor will
ubject so far as possible Correspondents should
This Department is conducted in the inU
be plpased to answer any question ,M, the
iMitor Camera Club Department.
PAPERS FOR BEGINNERS, No. 6.
SIMPLE DEVELOPMENT.
A GIRL who was taking her first lesson in developing
said that developing was dozens of "\\hens" and
" it's," and one must learn them all at once or else spoil all
one's plates.
Our first directions for development will not be with the
kind of pictures which the beginner usually takes, but the
kind he ought to take, and which are simplest and easiesi
to develop. These are time landscape pictures.
By time pictures is meant those which are taken with a
short- time exposure instead of with a drop-shutter in
bright sunlight. The day for makiug a successful time
picture is when the sky is slightly clouded and the light
soft, so that there are uo deep shadows.
The picture being made, and everything ready for de-
velopment, remove the plate from the holder and lay it face
up in the tray. Turn the developer — which is ready in the
glass graduate — quickly over the plate, taking great care
that the whole surface is flooded instantly. If the de-
veloper is not applied uniformly patches will appear on the
negative which print darker, the dark spots being where
the developer did not reach the plate as quickly as it did
the other parts.
Ac, soon as the developer has covered the plate, move the
tray gently to and fro, tipping it this way and that, but not
enough to expose the plate. In about a half-minute the
high lights will begiu to appear. The high lights are
those parts of the plate which have been exposed to the
strongest light, and which will show white, or light, in the
printed picture. The sky, which has reflected the strongest
light, will appear first. It will show as black patches
hen' and there at one edge of the plate.
By the time the sky is well out other objects will begiu
to show, those which were iu the deepest shadow will be
the longej-t coining out. After the image is well defined
on the plate, lift it carefully from the tray and look through
it towaid i he light, holding rather near the lantern so as to
see if the detail is out.
To explain what is meant by detail, we will suppose that
there is a mass of shrubbery in the picture. If this part
of the picture is developed far enough, the lights and
shadows and the forms of the bushes will show when the
plate is looked at against the light, but if the glass is clear
iherc is uo detail, and the development has not been car-
ried far enough. It must be, put back in the developer and
allowed to remain longer.
When the plate has been sufficiently developed, which
will be in from three to five minutes, the yellow color will
beginto fade, and the outlines, which have been quite sharp,
will grow dim. At this point, if one looks at the plate the
picture can be quite distinctly seen on the back.
Take the plate from the developer, rinse it thoroughly in
clean water, and place it, film side up. iu the tray of hypo
solution, which is made by dissolving 1 oz. of hyposulphite
of soda in 4 oz. of water.
This bath, which is usually called the fixing-bath, though
the proper term would lie clearing-bath, removes from the
negative the sensitive .silver salts which have not been af-
fected by light or by development, and makes the image
permanent. After the plate has remained iu the clearing-
bath for five minutes it will be found on looking at the
back of the plate that the yellow color has almost entirely
disappeared, leaving on the glass the clear image of the
landscape. The plate should remain iu the hypo for ten
minutes, so that the salts of silver may be thoroughly dis-
solved, or the plates will look streaked, aud will not make
satisfactory prints.
The plate must next be washed to remove all traces of
hypo. Hypo stains the negative, and if not thoroughly
washed out is apt to form again iu crystals aud ruin the
negative.
An hour is long enough to wash the negative in running
water, and two hours, with four or five changes of water,
where there is no running water. When the negative has
been washed long enough, take a small wad of soft cotton,
aud holding both plate and cotton in the water wipe the
film gently with the cotton to remove any dirt which may
have settled iu the film. If one has no drying-rack set the
plate on a shelf, with the film side toward the wall to avoid
the settling of dust iu the film.
When the negative is dry, place it iu au envelope, num-
ber and mark it, and place it in some place where it may
be found without trouble.
BILL TYBEE AND THE BULL.
YARN OF A WHALEMAN ON SHORE.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
ND didn't yeon never have uothiu' more to do with
whalin' ?" asked Farmer Joe.
"Oh, well," Handsome answered, "I never said that I
gave up whaling for good and all. You kuow.sailors nev-
er know when they're well oft'."
" Waal," said Farmer Joe, '• it 'pears to me that this 'ere's
niiaout a good time to tell us some more ou't."
" Did I ever tell you about going whaling on shore ?"
" Git aout!" exclaimed Farmer Joe.
" You don't believe it, eh ? Did you never hear of Aina-
gansett, Long Island ? That's where all good whalemen
go when they get to be too old to go to sea. They have
their boats there, and when a whale heaves in sight off
shore they put right out through the surf, aud generally
there's one dead whale iu those parts when they come
back. But it isn't about that I'm going to tell you, be-
cause chasing whales iu boats is all the same whether you
start from shore or a ship. But dowu there's where I met
old Bill Tybee."
" Who were he ?" asked Farmer Joe.
" He was a very old sailor, who'd quit the sea, and was
running a sort of express business. That is, he had a horse
and wagon, aud used to cart things for people. He was a
great old chap, I tell 5-011, and the yarns he used to tell
would have scraped barnacles oft' the back door of the
North Pole. His horse was so old he couldn't move at any
pace except a sort of dog-trot, and the wagon rumbled and
squeaked like a fife-aud-drum corps. One day I said to
Bill that I'd like to know why he didn't get a new horse
646
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
and wagon, and then he told me a regular liair-twi.ster.
I'm going to tell it to you. anil I'm going to tell it just the
way Bill told it to me."
Handsome shifted his seat a fnot or two, took a round
turn around his foot and tested tin- splice which he had
been making, and then screw ing his face up in imitatiou of
" old Bill Tybee," he began.
"Git a new boss an' waggiu, hoy? I ain't no dndr.
Nex' thing I 'spect you'll be waiitiu' mo to run a tally-hoo
coach to take beach - combers mil a clam-diggiii'. New-
boss an' waggin ! Say, I had Yin oncer, an' I don't want
'em no more. I got all the trouble I want now, without
bavin' a cantankerous young colt a tryin' to jump tVnn^
with me an' the waggin. Say, I'm goiu' to tell you 'bout
the new boss an' waggin I had oncet, an' then I leave it to
you, if you was me an' I was you, would you try it on some
more. 'Bout two year ago come Thanksgivin' I got so
sot up in bizniss that I bought Farmer Hiram Smoggs's
brown colt, that were jes seven year old that fall, an' his
one-boss farm waggin wot Fin Dooh-y had jes painted
redder 'n a new can-buoy mi the starboard side o' a ship
channel. I gave him this 'ere boss an' waggin wot I'm
a-drivin'now to boot. Werry good. I got aboard my new
waggin, and h'isted my whip, an' whistled the 'Star-Span-
gled Banner,' and sez I, ' Thar, gol bust ye. you're in com-
mission, ye wall-sided hooker,' sez I. Then I got under
way fur my fust cruise. It were plain sailin' gittin' out o'
the harbor, an', as the weather wore fair with a stiddy wind,
I let the colt go along under plain sail. Waal, I hadn't gone
more'u a couple o' cable lengths wVn ole Widdy Moriarty
she comes down to the sea-wall on her place, an' sings out
to me. So I hove the colt to, an' I axes her, ' Wot's up,
mate ?' An' she says she wants me fur to take a box o'
heggs down to the Fraser Bellew's grocery store. So I
tilled away on the colt, an' luffed up alongside o' the sea-
wall, an' made him fast to a pile wot were stickin' up. I
got the heggs, an' stowed 'em right forrard in the forepeak
o' the waggin. I got aboard, an' tilled away on my course
Etg'in.
"Werry good. Nex' I war hove to by Pete Magnff, a
cnlliul man, who put a bar'l o' maple syrup aboard. Then
Jiui Penu he puts in a bar'l o' flour fur me to take back to
ole man Bellew 'cos 'twarn't the right kind. Them two
bar'ls pooty nigh filled up the whole waist u' the waggin.
Howsuuiever, w'eu Hank Mosber axed me to take a bar'l
o' apples aboard I carkilated I could git her under the
break o' the tailboard, an' I did. Pussoually, I war now
usin'the box o' heggs fur a bridge, an' were a-steerin' the
colt from there. Bern' loaded right down to the Plimsoll's
mark, I didn't go to crackin' on sail, but let the colt go along
under his lower tops'ls like. All right, sez yon. But allus
keep a bright lookout fur squalls, sez I. Werry good. I
hadn't logged off more'u half a knot w'eu Farmer Powley's
ten-acre pasture were on my starboard hand, an' his black-
an'-white bull. Napoleon Bonyparty, were stamliu' plum in
the middle; o' the same. Now w'eu that 'ere bull seed that
'ere red waggin he kuowed it warn't the ole merchant
hooker wot he'd seed me a-steeriu'up an' down that road
so long. Nope; he med np his mind it were a foreign
cruiser, an' sez he to hisself, 'This are where I shows 'em
wot kind o' a coast-defeuse ram I are.' So he blowed one
whistle, hooked on, an' come down the Held under forced
draught, turnin' np a mos' terrible staru wave o' dust on
account o' the pasture bein' werry shallow water. I hailed
him, an' told him it war me, but he eoutdn't hear uothiii'.
All ho could do war to see a red waggin. So, seeiu' that
he war a-goin' to ram, I ups an' I lets fall to'gallauts an'
royals onto the colt, an' away we went dead afore the wind
at a twelve-knot gait. The bull didn't stop fur to jump
the fence. Ho jes went through it. Now it were a staru
chase right up the bill.
"Werry good. But afore I'd got fur I heard a thump,
an,' lookin' round I seed Hank Mosber's bar'l o' apples 'd
bounced out over the stum, an' were a-rolliu' down the hill
at a giuerally lively gait. (.Josh! You'd ort to see the
bull clear that bar'l. Say, flyin'-tish would have to take
lessons from him. Waal, bavin' lighteued ship by losin'
some o' my cargo I reckoned I'd make better speed ; but I
didn't seem to gain werry much onto the bull. He follered
me right slap inter town, an' then there war a sort o' grand
general mixification, sich as never war seed afore or
sence.
"Fust place, everybody begin fur to yell. One sez mnr-
der, an' another sez tire. Wimmeii screeched un'bo\s hol-
lered, an' the bull he bellerod hmder'n any on 'em. Joli'^a-
phat Book, the oulliid dominie. lie run out an' tried to jump
inter the waggin. Je.s at that minute the bar'l o' ilmir
give a bounce up in the air. The head o' the bar'l fell out,
an' the bar'l, flour, an' all came down over Jehosaphat's
head. Afore lie could git it off the bull war there, an' he
jes [licked up Jehos an' his llar'l an' tired 'em right through
the winder o' the school - haouse. Jehus landed in the
middle o' the floor, an' comin' out o' the bar'l lie war all
white. The chillen set up a yell, ' Ghost ! ^liost !' an' afore
the teacher knowed wot'd happened school war out. Jehos
picked hisself up, an' saw hisself in the lookin'-glass. Then
be let out a squeal an' started fnr the street. He thort
he'd turned white.
"But that warn't the wnst oft. That there bar'l o' ap-
ples a-rolliu' down-hill had fotched up ag'iu the feet o' Blind
Billy Bunker's team o' mules, an' they'd started off on a
dead run with bar'l hoops a tlappin' round tteirlegs. They
came into town a quarter o' a mile astaru o' me, and jes in
time to meet Jehos w'eu he come out in the street all white.
He scared them mules so bad that they stopped right in
their tracks.au' Billy Bunker war shot off the seat o' his
waggiu an' out into the road on his he,ad. He got up an'
made a grab fur the fust thing That he could feel, an' it
were Jehos. Billy war so mad that ho punched Jehos's
head an' Jehos punched back, an' there was the cullud min-
ister, all white, a-fightin'in the middle o' the street with a
blind man. An' the sheriff he came along an' arrested 'em
both, an' Jedge Sooter fined Jehos five dollars fnr disturbiu'
o' the peace, w'en he'd ort to have fined the bull.
" But that warn't the wust of 't. All this time me an' the
bull was still a-goin'. Somebody 'd hollered fire, an' some-
body else'd run off to the fire-engine house, an' told 'em that
they'd got to come quick or the whole blooiniu'town 'd go.
Jes then the red waggin hit a stone in the middle o' the
street, an' she pitched so hard she hove her tailboard right
up into the air an' overboard. That tailboard were jes as
red as anythin', an' w'en the bull seed it soarin' in the air
like a ole-time round shell with a navy time-fuse, he jes
got clean crazy. He kctehcd it onto his horns, an' loweriu'
his bead scraped up about two tons o' dust, an' hove dust
an' all right through the big front winder o' Jeremiah
Boggs's book an' newspaper store. The firemen seein' all
the dust, thought it war smoke, an' they comes up with
their engine an' lets drive a stream o' water a foot thick
right through the hole in the winder, an' completely sp'iled
the whole shop.
" But that warn't the wnst oft. Jeremiah's briudle bull-
dog were asleep under the counter, au' that there stream o'
water hit him ca-plum in the middle o' the back. He let
out one yell, an' out o' the shop he went an' down the street
all drippin' wet au' sqnealin' like a pig. Every body wot seed
him hollered 'Mad dog! mad dog!' An' then ole Willum
Henry Peet, the constable, he got clean rattled, an' pulled
out his rewolwer an'beginned to shoot all over the coun-
try. As me an' the bull was still a-goiii'I didn't see that,
but I could hear it. Waal, Willum Henry's shootin' started
up some other folks, an' putty soon there war a whole rigi- •
mint o' people out in the street a-shootin', an' not hittin'
anythiii"ceptiu' winders, w'ich the same they busted forty-
seven. ' The firemen findin' they'd made a mistake, an' there
warn't no (ire, said as how Jeremiah 'd sent out a false alarm,
an' they started to lick him. Some o'his friends come to
help him, an' in five minutes there war a reg'lar riot right
out in front o' his store.
"All this time me an' the bull war still a-goin'. I didn't
seem to gain much onto him, so I set the royals an' the
stu'ns'ls onto the colt, although it were werry stormy
weather, an' I made up my mind that if somethin' didn't
carry away I'd be able to hold him right where he war.
I had to keep goiu' right straight ahead. 'Cos w'y : it' I'd 'a'
put the helm bard over fur to turn a corner, I'd 'a' rolled
G47
'ALL THE TIME THE BULL WERE ATTENDIN' STRICTLY TO BIZNESS."
tbe deck-lioiise right oft'u my red hooker. Waal, a leetle
furder up the street \ve comes to Peanut Brewer, with his
black horse a-staiiiliu" dead still. He'd bulked, an' Peanut
war sittin' on top o' a load o' hay a-sayiu' bad words at
Lim. Mrs. Mehitabel Saggs's little boy come out with a
big tire-cracker to set oft' under the boss au" make him start.
At that werry minute Pete Maguff s bar'l o' maple syrup on
my waggin' give a jounce, and went by the board over the
port rail. That there bar'l rolled right under Peanut's boss
jes as the fire-cracker busted. It sot fire to the bar'l, an'
she blazed right up. 'Now,' sez Peanut, 'my ole black
Loss '11 start,' sez he. An' so he did. He started an' went
jcs fur enough to pull the waggiu' right over the fire, an'
then he stopped. Waal, sir, Peanut had to jump fur his
life, fur that load o' hay blazed up ill half a second. The
liiv rniupaiiy war on the dead run fur home w'eu they seed
the blaze, an' down they come at their finest gait, with Jer-
emiah Boggs an' his gang astaru o' them, keepin' up a
permiskious fire o' stones, sticks, an' terniatter cans an'
sich things. Jes then Jeremiah's dog come around the
corner with forty boys a-chasin' him an' yelliu' 'Mad dog.'
He run right under Peanut Brewer's black hoss, an' that
started him. Yaas, sir, he got right up onto his hind legs,
an' away he went down the street licketty -split, pnllin'
a load o' hay on fire. By that time everybody iu town
were putty nigh crazy, an' the President o' the village had
telegraphed fur the militia to come.
" All the time the bull were attendiu' strickly to biz-
ness. The colt war all covered with foam, an' I made up
my mind that afore long he war a-goiu' fur to give out, an'
me an' the bull would have to settle the question atweeu
ourselves, iu w'ich case the bettin' would all 'a' bin in favor
o' the bull. So I kinder considers a little, an' all on a sud-
dnit I ivcomniriiihrivd them heggs. I yanked the top
ofifn the box, an' diskivrred that most o' the heggs was
scrambled — raw — but still scrambled. Howsmuever, then-
was a few that wasn't. 80 I took one o' them an' hove it
at the bull. It hit him smack on the middle o' the fore-
head. Waal, if he'd been mad afore, he war crazy now. He
let out a roar that made my bones rattle, an' he opened out
his last link o' speed. Now he commenced fur to gain ou
me, hand over fist; so I made up my mind to do somethiu'
desprit. I put the helm hard a-starboard, an' steered the
colt into a narrer channel wot led right down to the bay.
The bull he tried to cut short goin' round the corner, an' he
run into the lamp-post, w'ich the same he knocked clean
down into Parker's basement, where Johannes Pfeiffeu-
schneider, the cobbler, works, an' scared Johannes so that
he sp'iled Miss Beasley's Sunday shoes, an' lost putty nigh
all his trade.
" Down at the foot o' the street war Mark Rogers's oyster
sloop lii'tsey Jane, lyin' alongside o' the wharf. Ou the
wharf war about ten million oyster shells, all piled up.
' Now,' sez I to myself, sez I, ' here's where I've got to stop
the bull.' I steered the colt right straight at that reef o'
shells, trustiu' to our speed an' our shaller draft to carry us
right over. There war a smash, crash, biff! an' over we
went. Then I jumped up, grabbed the box o' scrambled
heggs, an' hove 'em straight iu the bull's face. Waal, gol
bust me if that there bull didn't look like the grau'father
o' all omlets. He was clean blinded fur a minute, an' he
kicked out with all four legs iu the middle o' the reef, till
the air war white with flying oyster shells. He kicked so-
many of 'em into the bay that Mark had to dredge out a
new channel. Then he got his eyes clear a minute au' he
seed me a-laffin'. He jes made one jump, an' he got under
the waggiu' with'his head. The next thing I knowed I
war in the bay. That there bull jes picked up waggiu',
colt, an' me, au' he hove us straight off the dock an' into
the bay."
"And what happened after that ?" I asked.
" Waal, we had to swim out, o' course. It killed the colt,
that cold bath arter beiu' so heated, an' the waggiu' was-
busted into kiudliu' wood. An' the bull ? Oh, yaas, the
bull. Waal, he was puffickly satisfied, an' he went up along,
the side o' the road an' eat grass jes as if he'd never did
nothin' else in all his life. Now, my sou, you know w'y I
don't git a new hoss an' waggiu'. I bin there, an' w'eu I
bin to a place wot's not to my likiu' I knows enough not
to go back. Git ep !"
G48
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.
BY KIRK M U N R O E.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
LOST IN A MOUNTAIN BLIZZARD.
fl^IRED as were the occupants of that lonely camp after
I a day of exhausting climbing through the timber,
their slumbers "were broken and restless. The uncertain-
ties of the morrow, the peculiar nature of the road they
had yet to travel, and the excitement consequent upou
Hearing the end of their journey, which none of them be-
lieved to be over fifty miles away, all combined to render
them wakeful and uneasy. So they were up by the first
sign of daylight, and off before sunrise.
As there were now but three dogs to a sledge, the load
of the one driven by Serge was divided between it and the
one that brought up the rear in charge of Jalap Coombs.
A few sticks of dry wood were also placed on each sledge,
so that in crossing the upper ice-fields they might at least
be able to melt snow for drinking purposes.
"Now for it!" cried Phil, cheerfully, as they emerged
from the scanty timber, and shivered in the chill blast that
swept down from the towering peaks above them. Be-
tween two of these was a saddlelike depression that they
took to be the pass, and to it the young leader determined
to guide his little party.
"Up you go, Musky !" he shouted. " Pull, Luvtuk, my
pigeon! Amook, you old rascal, show what you are good
for! A little more work, a little more hunger, and then
rest, with plenty to eat. So stir your-
selves and climb!"
With this the long whip-lash whis-
tled through the frosty air, and crack-
ed with a resounding report that
would have done credit to the most
expert of Eskimo drivers, for our Phil
was no longer a novice in its use, and
with a yelp the dogs sprang forward.
Up, up, up they climbed, until, as
Phil remarked, it didn't seem as
though the top of the world could bo
very far away. The sun rose, and
IliHided the snow -fields with such
dazzling radiance that, hut for their
protecting goggles our travellers must
have been completely blinded by the
glare. The deep gulch whose wind-
ings they followed held in summer-
time a roaring torrent, hut now it was
filled with solidly packed snow from
twenty-five to one hundred feet deep.
As they advanced the gulch grew
more and more shallow, until at length
it was merged iu a broad uniform
slope so steep and slippery that they
were obliged to cut footholds in the
snow, and at frequent intervals carve
out little benches two feet wide.
From one of these to another they
dragged the sledges, one at a time,
with rawhide ropes. Even the dogs
had to be -assisted up the glassy in-
cline, on which they could gain no
hold. So arduous was this labor that
three hours were spent in overcoming
the last five hundred feet of the as-
cent. Thus it was long past 110011
when, breathless and exhausted, the
party reached the summit, or rather
a slope so gentle that the dogs could
once more drag the sledges.
Here, at an elevation of nearly five
thousand feet above the sea, they
paused for breath, for a bite of lunch,
and for a last look over the way they
had come. From this elevation their
view embraced a sweep of over one hun-
dred miles of mountain and plain, river and forest. It was
so far-reaching and boundless that it even seemed as if
they could take in the whole vast Yukon Valley, and locate
points that common-sense told them were a thousand miles
beyond their range of vision. Grand as was the prospect,
they did n.ot care to look at it long. Time was precious ;
the air, iu spite of its sunlight, was bitterly chill, and, after
all, the mighty wilderness now behind theui held too many
memories of hardship, suffering, and danger to render it at-
tractive.
S", " Hurrah for the coast !" cried Phil.
"Hurrah for Sitka!" echoed Serge.
"Hooray for salt water! Now, bullies, up and at 'em !"
roared Jalap Coombs, expressing a sentiment, and an order
to his sailor-bred dogs, iu a breath.
In a few moments more the wonderful view had disap-
peared, and the sledges were threading their way amid a
chaos of gigantic bowlders and snow -covered landslides
from the peaks that rose on both sides. There was no
sharp descent from the summit, such as they had hoped to
find, but instead a lofty plateau piled thick with obstruc-
tions. About them no green thing was to be seen, no sigu
of life; only snow, ice, and precipitous cliifs of bare rock.
The all-pervading and absolute silence was awful. There
was no trail that might be followed, for the hardiest of na-
tives dared not attempt that crossing in the winter. Even
if they had, their trail would have been obliterated almost
FOE A MOMENT THE SENSATION WAS SICKENING.
649
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
as soon as made by tin1 tierce storms of these altitudes. So
tbeir only guide u'as that of general direction, which they
knew to be south, and In this course Phil endeavored to
hold.
That night they made a chill camp iu the lee of a great
bowlder: that is. in as much of a lee as could be had where
the icy blast swept in circles and eddies from all directions
at once. They started afire, butits feeble flame wasao blown
hither and thither that by the time a kettle of snow was
melted, and the ire was thawed from their stew, their sup-
ply of wood was so depleted that they dared not use more.
So they ate their scanty supper without tea, fed the dogs
on fro/en porridge, and huddling together for warmth dur-
ing the long hours of bleak darkness were thankful enough
to welcome the gray dawn that brought them to an end.
For three days more they toiled over the terrible plateau.
driven to long detours by insurmountable obstacles, buffeted
and lashed by fierce snow-squalls and ice-laden gales, but
ever pushing onward with unabated courage, expecting
with each hour to find themselves descending into the val-
ley of the Chilcat River. Two of the dogs driven by Serge
broke down so completely that they were mercifully shot.
The third dog was added to Jalap Coombs's team, and the
load was divided between the remaining sledges, while the
now useless one was used as firewood. After that Phil
plodded on iu advance, and Serge drove the leading team.
The fourth day of this terrible work was one of leaden
clouds and bitter winds. The members of the little party
were growing desperate with cold, exhaustion, and hunger.
Their wanderings had not brought them to a timber-line,
and as poor Phil faced the blast with bowed head and
chattering teeth it seemed to him that to be once more
thoroughly warm would be the perfection of human happi-
ness.
It was already growing dnsk,and he was anxiously cast-
ing about for the sorry shelter of some bowlder behind
which they might shiver away the hours of darkness, when
he came to the verge of a steep declivity. His heart
leaped as he glanced down its precipitous face ; for, far be-
low, he saw a dark mass that he knew must, be timber.
They could not descend at that point; but he thought he
saw one that appeared more favorable a little further on,
and hastened iu that direction. He was already some dis-
tance ahead of the slow-moving sledges, and meant to wait
for them as soon as he discovered a place from which the
descent could be made.
Suddenly a whirling, blinding cloud of snow swept down
on him with such fury that to face it and breathe was im-
possible. Thinking it but a squall, he turned his back and
stood motionless, waiting for it to pass over. Instead of so
doing, it momentarily increased iu violence and density. A
sudden darkness came with the storm, and as he anxiously
started back to meet the sledges he could not see one rod
before him. He began to shout, and in a few minutes had
the satisfaction of hearing an answering cry. Directly
afterwards Serge loomed through the driving cloud, urging
on his1 reluctant dogs with voice and whip. The moment
they were allowed to stop, Musky, Luvtnk, and big Amook
lay down as though completely exhausted.
" We can't go a step further, Phil ! We must make camp
at once," panted Serge. " This storm is a regular poorga,
and will probably last all night. "
"But where can we camp?" asked Phil, in dismay.
"There is timber down below, but it looks miles away, and
we can't get to it now."
"No," replied Serge ; " we must stay where we are and
burrow a hole in this drift big enough to hold us. We've
got to do it in a hurry too."
So saying, Serge drew his knife, for the outside of the
drift close to which they were halted was so hard packed
as t" render run ing necessary, and outlined a low opening.
From this he removed an unbroken slab, and then began to
dig furiously in the soft snow beyond.
Iu the meantime Phil was wondering why Jalap Coombs
did not appear ; for he had supposed him to be close behind
Serge; but now his repeated shoutings gained no reply.
"He was not more than one hundred feet behind me
when the storm began," said Serge, whose anxiety caused
him to pause in his labor, though it was for the preserva-
tion of their lives.
•• He must be in some trouble," said Phil, " and I am ^o-
ing back to tind him."
"You cau't go alone!" cried Serge. " If you are to get
lost, I must go with yon."
"No. One of us must stay here with Nel-te, and it is
my duty to go; but do you shout every few seconds, and I
promise not to go beyond sound of your voice."
Thus saying, Phil started back, and was instantly swal-
low e,l iii the vortex of the blizzard. Faithfully did Serge
sin. ut. and faithfully did Phil answer, for nearly fifteen
minutes. Then the latter came staggering back, with hor-
ror-stricken face and voice.
" I can't find him, Serge! Oh, I can't find him !" he cried.
"I am afraid he has gone over the precipice. If he has, it
is my fault, and I shall never forgive myself, for I had no
business to go so far ahead and let the party get scat-
tered."
Serge answered not a word, but fell with desperate en-
ergy to the excavating of his snow-house. His heart was
nigh breaking with the sorrow- that had overtaken them,
but he was determined that no other lives should be lost if
his efforts could save them. The excavation was soon so
large that Phil could work with him, but with all their
furious digging they secured a shelter from the pitiless
jii>i>ri/<t none too soon. The sledge was already buried from
sight, and poor little Xel-te was wellnigh smothered ere
they lifted him from it and pulled him into the burrow.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
COASTING FIVE MILES IN FIVE MINUTES.
IN spite of their faint-ness and weakness from hunger
and exhaustion, Phil and Serge were so stimulated by the
emergency that within half an hour they had dug a cavity
in the great drift sufficiently large to hold the three dogs
as well as themselves. The excavation was driven straight
for a few feet, and then turned to one side, where it was so
enlarged that they could either lie down or sit up. Into
this diminutive chamber they dragged their robes and sleep-
ing-bags. The shivering dogs crept iu and curled up at
their feet. The sledge was left outside, and the opening
was closed as well as might be by the slab of compacted
snow that had been cut from it.- Poor little Nel-te, who
was numbed and whimpering with cold and hunger, was
rubbed into a glow, comforted and petted, until at length
he fell asleep, nestled between the lads, and then they
found time to talk over their situation. For a while they
had no thought save for the dear friend and trusty com-
rade, who, alive or dead, was still out in that terrible storm,
and, as they believed, lost to them forever.
" I don't suppose there is the faintest hope of ever seeing
him again, "said Phil. "If he went over the precipice he
must have been killed, and is buried deep in the snow by
this time. Even if he did riot, and is still wandering some-
where iu this vicinity, he must perish before morning. Oh,
Serge, can't we do anything for him? It makes me feel
like a cowardly traitor to be sitting here in comfort while
the dear old chap may be close at hand, and perishing for
want of our help. And it is my fault, too! The fault of
my inexcusable carelessness. It seems, old man, as if I
should go crazy with thinking of it."
" But you mustn't think of it in that way, Phil," answered
Serge, soothingly. "As leader of the party it was your
duty to go ahead and pick out the road, while it was ours
to keep yon iu sight. If either of us is to blame for what
has happened. I am the one. I should have looked back
ofteuer and made sure that he was still close behind me.
Now there is nothing we can do except wait for daylight
and the end of the storm. We have our parents, this child,
and ourselves to think of first. Nor could we accomplish
anything even if we tried. The storm has doubled in fnry
sinee we halted. ' 'A foot of snow must already have fallen,
ami to venture a single rod outside of this place would serve
to lose us as certainly as though we went a mile. We
mustn't give up all hope, though. Mr. Coombs is very
strong, and well used to exposure. Of course, if he has
650
HARPER'S EOUND TABLE
goue over the precipice there is little chauce that we shall
ever see him agaiu ; but if lie escaped it, and has made
a burrow for himself like this one, he will pull through
all right, aud I feel sure we shall find him iu the moru-
ing."
•• Why haven't we dug places like this before ?" asked
Phil. "It is actually getting warm and comfortable in
here. We might have had just such a warm cave every
night that we have been iu the mountains and spent so
miserably."
"Of course we might," agreed Serge, "aud we would
have had, but for my stupidity iu not thinking of it sooner.
While I never took refuge iu one before, I have often heard
of them, and ought to have remembered. I didn't, though,
until this storm struck us, and I knew that without shelter
we must certainly perish.''
•' If you hadn't thought of a suo\v-burrow," said Phil, "it
is certain I never should. It is snug, though, and if only
poor Jalap were with us, aud we had food and a light of
some kind, I wouldn't ask for a better shelter. I can under-
stand now how an Eskimo stone lamp, with seal oil for fuel,
and a wick of moss, can give out all the heat that is needed
iu one of their suow Uuts, and I only wish we had brought
one with us."
After this the boys grew drowsy, their conversation
slackened, aud soon all their troubles were forgotten iu
sleep. Outside through the long hours the gale roared
and shrieked wi,th impotent rage at their escape from its
clutches. It hurled its suow legions against their place
of refuge until it was deep buried, and then in a frenzv
tore away aud scattered the drifted accumulation, until
it could once more beat directly upon their slender wall
"f ill-fence. But its wiles and its furious attacks were alike
in vain, aud at length its fierce ravings sank into whispers.
The j«x»v/« spent its force with the darkness, and at daylight
had swept on to inland fields, leaving only an added burden
of millions of tons of suow to mark its passage across the
mountains.
When the boys awoke a soft white light was filtering
through one side of their spotless chamber, and they knew
that day bad come. They expected to dig their way to
the outer air through a great mass of snow, and were
agreeably surprised to find only a small drift against the
doorway. As they emerged from it they were for a few
minutes blinded by the marvellous brilliancy of their sun-
lit surroundings. Gradually becoming accustomed to the
intense light, they gazed eagerly about for some sign of
their missing comrade, but there was none. They followed
back for a mile over the way they had come the evening
before, shouting aud firing their guns, but without avail.
No answering shout came back to their straining ears,
and there was nothing to indicate the fate of the lost man.
Sadly aud soberly the lads retraced their steps, aud pre-
pared to resume their journey. To remain longer in that
place meant starvation aud death. To save themselves
they must push on.
They shuddered at the precipice they had escaped, and
over which they feared their comrade had plunged. At its
foot lay a. valley, which, though it trended westward, and
so away from their course, Phil determined to follow ; for.
far below their lofty perch, and still miles away from where
they stood, it held the dark mass he had seen the night be-
fore, and knew to be. timber. Besides, his sole desire at
that moment was to escape from those awful heights aud
reach the coast at some point; he hardly cared whether it
were inhabited or not.
So the sledge was dug from its bed of snow aud reload-
ed; the dogs were harnessed. Poor little Xel-te, crying with
hunger, was slipped into his fur travelling-bag, and a -tart
was made to search for some point of descent. At length
they found a place where the slope reached to tho very top
of the cliff, but so sharply that it was like the roof of a
house several miles in length.
•• I hate the looks of it," said Phil, "but as there doesn't
seem to be any other way, I suppose we've got to try it. I
should say that for at least three miles it was as steep as
the steepest part of a toboggan slide, though, and I'm
pretty certain we sha'u't care to try it more than ouce."
"I guess we can do it all right," replied Serge, "but
there's only one way, aud that is to sit on a snow-shoe and
slide. We couldn't keep on our feet a single second."
They lifted Xel-te, fur bag and all, from the sledge, tight-
ened the lashings of its load, which included the guns and
extra snow-shoes, and started it over the verge. It flashrd
down the declivity like a rocket, and the last they saw of
it 'it was rolling over and over.
"Looks cheerful, doesn't it ?" said Phil, firmly. "Now
I'll go ; then do you start the dogs down, and come yourself
as i|uick as you please."
Thus saying, the plucky lad seated himself on a snow-
shoe, took Nel-te, still iu the fur bag, iu his lap, and launch-
ed himself over the edge of the cliff. For a moment the
sensation, which was that of falling from a great height,
was sickening, and a thick mist seemed to obscure his
vision.
Then if, cleared away, aud was followed by a feel-
ing of the wildest exhilaration as he heard the 'whistling
backward rush of air, and realized the tremendous speed at
which he was whizzing through space. Ere it seemed pos-
sible that he could have goue half-way to the timber-line
trees began to fly past him, and he knew that the worst
was over. In another minute he was floundering in a
drift of soft suow, iuto which he had plunged up to his
neck, aud tho perilous feat was successfully accom-
plished.
Poor Serge arrived at the same point shortly afterwards,
head first, and dove out of sight in the. drift; but fortu-
nately Phil was in a position to extricate him before he
smothered. The dogs appeared a moment later, with some-
what less velocity, but badly demoralized, aud evidently
feeling that they had been sadly ill-treated by their
driver. So the sledge party had safely descended in five
minutes a distance equal to that which they had spent half
a day aud infinite toil in ascending on the other side of
the mountains.
When Nel-te was released from the fur bag aud set ou
his feet he was as calm aud self- possessed as though nothing
out of the usual had happened, and immediately demanded
something to eat.
After a long search they discovered the sledge, with only
one rail broken aud its load intact.
"Now for a fire and breakfast !'' cried Phil, heading tow-
ards the timber, as soon as the original order of things
was restored. "After that we will make one more effort
to fiud some trace of poor Jalap, though I don't believe
there is the slightest chance of success."
They entered the forest of wide-spreading but stunted
evergreens, and Phil, axe in hand, was vigorously attacking
a dead spruce, wheu an exclamation from his companion
caused him to pause in his labor and look around. "What
can that be?" asked Serge, pointing to a thick hemlock
that stood but a few yards from them. The lower end of
its drooping branches were deep buried iu snow, but such
part as was still visible was in a strange state of agita-
tion.
" It must be a bear," replied Phil, dropping his axe and
springing to the sledge for his rifle. "His winter den is
there, and we have disturbed him. Get out your gun —
quick! We can't afford to lose him. Meat's too scarce in
camp just now." Even as he spoke, and before the guns
could be takeu from their moose-skin cases, the motion of
the branches increased, then came a violent upheaval of
the suow that weighted them down, and the boys caught a
glimpse of some huge shaggy animal issuing from the pow-
dered whiteuess.
"Hurry!" cried Phil. "No, look out! We're too late!
What ? Great Scott ! It can't be. Yes, it is ! Hurrah !
Glory, hallelujah ! I knew he'd pull through all right, and
I believe I'm the very happiest fellow in all the world at
this minute."
•• Mebbe you be, son," remarked Jalap Coombs, "and
then again mebbe there's others as is equally joyful. As
my old friend Kite Eoberson uster say, ' A receiver's as good
as a thief,' aud I sartainly received a heap of pleasure
through hearing you holler jest now."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
651
STORIES OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.
BY HENRIETTA CHRISTIAN WRIGHT.
JAMES F E N I M 0 R E C 0 0 P E R.
LATE in the eighteenth century the Tillage of CoQpers-
town lay almost in the midst of the primeval forest,
which extended for miles around. Here the future novel-
ist James Fenimore Cooper had been brought while yet an
infant by his father, who had built the family mansion, Ot-
sego Hail, iu this secluded spot, far from the highways of
travel, designing to make it the centre of a settlement of
siinie note, if possible. Here, as the boy grew older, he
learned wood-lore as the young Indians learned it, face to
face with the divinity of the forest. He knew the language
of the wild animals, and could distinguish their calls far
across the gloomy spaces of the wood ; he could follow the
deer and bear to their retreats iu dim secluded recesses ;
he could trace the path of the retreating wolf by the
broken cobwebs glistening iu the early sunlight; and the
crv of the panther to its mate high overhead in the inter-
lacing boughs of the pines and hemlocks was of a sj
as familiar as his own tongue.
When he was thirsty he made a
hunter's cup of glossy leaves and
drauk iu true Indian fashion ; when
fatigued, ho could lie down and rest
with that feeling of security that
only comes to the forest-bred ; when
thoughtful, he could learn from the
lap of the waves against the. shore,
the murmur of leaves, and the rus-
tle of wiugs those lessons which
Nature teaches in her quiet moods.
These experiences and impressions
sauk into Cooper's heart, and were
relived again long after in the pages
of his romances with such vividness
that they are plainly seen to be real
memories.
Leaving his home while still a
young boy, Cooper went to Albany
to study under a private tutor, and
in 1803 entered Yale College, which,
owiug to some trouble with the au-
thorities, he left in the third year of
his course. It was now decided that
he should enter the uavy, and he
left New York in the autumn of 1806,
being then in his fifteenth year, on
a vessel of the merchant marine.
There was then no Naval Academy
iu America, and a boy could only fit
himself for entering the navy be-
fore the mast; his ship, the Sterling,
visiting Portugal and Spain, carry -
inu cargoes from port to port, and taking life in a leisure-
ly manner that belonged to the merchant sailing-vessels
of that day. It was a time of interest to all seamen, and
Cooper's mind was keenly alive to the new life around him.
The English were expecting a French invasion, and the
channel was full of ships of war, while every port on the
soul hern coast was arming for defence. The Mediterranean
was yet subject to incursions of the Barbary pirates, who
would descend uuder cover of night upon any unprotected
merchant- vessel, steal the cargo, scuttle the ship, and carry
away the crew to be sold as slaves to the Tripolitau and
Algerian husbandmen, whose orchards of dates were culti-
vated by many a white person from across the Atlantic, held
there in cruel slavery.
The waters of the Mediterranean were full of merchant-
men of all nations. Here, side by side, could be seen the
Italian, French, and English sailor, while the flags of
Russia, Turkey, Egypt, and Greece dotted the farther
horizon.
Cooper passed through all these stirring scenes, known
to those around him only as a boy before the mast, but in
reality the clever student and observer of men and events.
HE DISTlXGflSHED THE CALL OF ANIMALS.
His work was hard and dangerous ; he was never admitted
to the cabin, though an equal, socially, to the officers of the
ship ; in storm or wind or other danger his place was on
the deck among the rough sailors, who were his only com-
panions during the voyage. But this training developed
the good material that was iu him, and when, iu 1808, he
received his commission as midshipman, he entered the
service better equipped for his duties perhaps than many
a graduate of Annapolis to-day.
Cooper remained iu the navy three years and a half, see-
ing no active service. He finally resigned his commission,
and passed several succeeding years of his life partly in
Westchester County, New York, and partly in Cooperstowu,
and having no ambition beyond living the quiet life of a
country gentleman.
It was not until 1820, when he was in his thirty- first
year, that he produced his first book or novel of English
life, which showed no talent, and
which even his most ardent admi-
rers in after- years could not read
through. It was not until the next
year, 1821, that a novel appeared
from the hand of Cooper which
foreshadowed the greatness of his
fame, and struck a new note in
American literature. American so-
ciety was at that time alive with
the stirring memories of the Revo-
lution. Men and women were still
active who could recall the victo-
ries of Bunker Hill and Trenton, and
who had shared iu the disasters of
Monmouth and Long Island. It is
natural that in choosing a subject
for fiction he should turn to the re-
cent struggle for his inspiration, and
American literature owes a large
debt to him who thus threw into lit-
erary form the spirit of those thrill-
ing times.
His first important novel, Tlic Sj>i/,
was founded upon a story which
Cooper had heard many years before,
and which had made a profound im-
pression upon him. It was tin-
story of a veritable spy, who had
been iu the service of one of the
liV\ olutionary leaders, and whoso
daring and heroic adventures were
related to Cooper by the man who
had employed him.
Cooper took this old spy for his hero, kept the sc^ue in
Westchester, where the man had really performed his won-
derful feats, and from these facts wove the most thrilling
and vital piece of fiction that had appeared in America.
The novel appeared in December, 1821, aud in a few
mouths it was apparent that a new star had risen in the
literary skies. The book made Cooper famous both -in
America and Europe. It was published in England by the
same publisher who had brought out Irviug's Sketeli-BooJc.,
and it met with a success that spoke highly for its merit,
since the story was one telling of English defeat and Amer-
ican triumph. It was put into French by the translator
of the Waverley novels, and before long versions appeared
in every tongue in Europe. It was regarded not merely
as a talc of ad\ cnture in a new department of story-telling,
but it was generally conceded to be a fine piece of lietimi
in itself, and its hero, Harvey Birch, won, and has kept for
himself, a place hardly second to any creation of literature'.
Cooper had now fouud,his sphere, and his best work
henceforth was that in which he delineated the features
of American history during the struggle for independence.
His greatest contributions toliterature are found in the short
652
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
•series of novels called "The
Leather-stocking Tales," and iu
ills novels of the sea. "The
Leatherstocking Tales "consist
•of five stories, in winch the
same hero figures from first to
last. The series began with
the publication of Cooper's
second novel, The Pioneers, but
the story of the hero really be-
gins iu the fascinating pages
•of The Deerslnyer, where he is
represented iu the first stage
of his career.
The series grew much as
Tennyson's Idylls of the Kimj
.grew, the same man being
introduced iu different parts
of his career, though each sep-
arate book did not follow iu
•exact order from the author's
hand. The success of The
Pioneers was remarkable. Thir-
ty-five hundred copies were
sold before uoou on the day
of publication, and although,
perhaps, the least powerful of
the "Tales, "it was read with
the same interest that had
been given to T7«- Spy.
Iu the new novel Leather-stocking was first introduced
as the philosopher of nature, ignorant of books, but wise in
the lore that is taught by the voices of Nature. It is a
story of the primitive life of the frontiersmen of that day,
and their occupations, interests, anil ambitions form the,
background to the picture of the hero, Leatberstockiug,
who embodies the author's idea of chivalrous manhood,
and whose creation is one of the uoblest achievements of
fiction.
The scene of The Pioneers was laid iu the vicinity of
Cooper's boyhood home, and all the exquisite pictures
wrought iuto the setting are vivid and lifelike illustra-
tions of the little frontier village, where rnau received his
sustenance first hand from Nature, and where all his sur-
roundings partook almost of the simplicity of the first ages
of the world. It was an appropriate theatre for the actions
of that rustic philosopher Lentherstockiug, and there is a
veiu of tender reminiscence through the book that must
always give it a charm apart from the rest, though iu itself
it is the least perfect story of the series.
The story of Leatherstocking begins in The Deersl/ii/i i ,
though it was not written until twenty years after the
publication of The Pioneers. The scene was laid on Otsego
COOPER READING
HIS PLACE WAS ON THE DECK AMONG THE SAILORS.
Lake, and the character of Leatherstocking was drawn as
that of a young scout just entering upon manhood. The
next year, 18-11, came The Pathfinder, having for its back-
ground the shores of Lake Ontario, with which Cooper had
become familiar during the winter there iu the service of
the navy.
In these two books Cooper reached the highest point of
his art. Leatherstocking appears in The lleerntiiyer as a
young rnau full of the promise of a noble manhood. And
this ideal character is developed through a succession of
stirring adventures, the like of which are to be found only
iu the pages of Scott. Side by side with Leatherstockiug
stand those pictures of Indian character, which became so
famous that the Indian of that day has passed iuto history
as represented by Cooper.
The Pathfinder carries Leatherstocking through some of
the most exciting episodes of his adventurous career, and
belongs to the same part of bis life as The Lust of tin- Mnlii-
euim, published sixteen years before, the scene of which is
laid near Lake Cbamplaiu. Tin- Laxt of the Mohicans takes
rank with Tin- Decrxluyer and The Pathfinder in represent-
ing Cooper at his best. In these three novels we see Lea-
therstockiug as a man in the prime of life battling with
the stirring events that were making the
history of the country. All the story of
the war of the white mau with nature, with
circumstances, and with bis red brother in
civilizing the frontier, is told in these books.
It is the romance of real history, and Leath-
erstocking had his prototype iu many a
brave frontiersman whose deeds were un-
recorded, and whose name was never known
beyond bis owu little circle of friends.
Iu The Pioneers Leatherstocking has be-
come an old mau who has sought a borne in
the forest to avoid the noise and strife of
civilized life, and he closes bis career iu The
Prairie, a novel of the plains of the great
West, whither the old mau has gone to
spend his last days. It is the story of a
lonely life of the prairie-hunter of those
days, whose love for solitude has led him
far from even the borders of the frontier,
and whose dignified death is a fitting end-
ing to his noble and courageous life. It is
supposed that this end to Leatherstockin^'s
career was suggested to Cooper by the ever-
famous Daniel Booue, aud some of the inci-
AN OLD SHIPMATE.
653
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
dents ul' the storj read like real life. One of Cooper's
must famous descriptions— that of the prairie on tin —
occurs in tins I k — ;i scene excelled only by the descrip-
tion i. I'lli.' panther-tight in Tlif Pioneers, or the combat be-
tween Deerslayer aud his foe.
; 'ooper began his scries of sea novels by the publication
of Tin I'iliit in l-.M.and stands as the creator of this de-
partment lit' lictinii. He was the first novelist to bring
int. i tietion the nrdinary, every-clay life of the sailor afloat,
whether employed on a merchant vessel or lighting hand
to hand in :i naval encounter. Scott's novel, The 1'ii'nli,
had been criticised by Cooper as the evident work of a man
who had never been at sea, and to prove how much better
an effect could he produced by one familiar with ocean life
he bewail his story, Tin 1'ilnl.
The period of the story is the American Revolution, and
the hero was that famous adventurer John Paul Jones, intro-
duced under another name. It was such a new thing to
put into fiction the technicalities of ship life, to describe
the details of au evolution in a naval battle, and to throw
in as background the vast and varying panorama of sea
and sky, that Cooper, familiar as he was with ocean life, felt
some doubt of his success. In order to test his powers, he
read one day to an old shipmate that famous account of the
pa^age of the ship through the narrow channel in one of
the thrilling chapters of the yet unfinished work. The ef-
fect was all that Cooper could desire. The old sailor got
into snch a fury of excitement thai lie could not keep his
seat, but paced up and down the room while Cooper was
reading; in his excitement he was for a moment living over
anain a stormy scene from his own life; aud the novelist
laid down the manuscript, well pleased with the result of
his experiment. The Pilot met with an instant success
both in America and Europe. As it was his first, so it is
perhaps his best sea story. In it he put all the freshness
of reminiscence, all the haunting memories of ocean life
that had followed him since his boyhood days. It was bio-
graphical in the same sense as The 1'immi-x, a part of the
romance of childhood drafted into the reality of after-
life.
Red Hnri'i; the next sea story, came out in 1828. Other
novelists had begun to write tales of the sen, but they were
mere imitations of The PU/it. In the 1'ail Itnn-i- the genuine
adventures of the sailor class were again embodied in the
thrilling narrative that Cooper alone knew how to write,
and from its first appearance it has always been one of the
most popular of the author's works. In these pages occurs
that dramatic description of the last sea fight of Red Rover,
one of Cooper's finest achievements.
Cooper's popularity abroad was equalled only by that of
Scott. His works as soon as published were translated into
almost every tongue of Europe, and were sold in Turkey,
Prussia, Egypt, and Jerusalem in the language of those
countries. It was said by a traveller that the middle classes
of Europe had gathered all their knowledge of American
history from Cooper's works, and that they had never un-
derstood the character of American independence until re-
vealed by this novelist.
PRIZE = STORY COMPETITION.
FIRST-PRIZE STORY.
Betty's Ride: A Tale of the Revolution. -By Henry S. Canby.
THE sun was just rising and showering his first rays on
the gambrel-ronf and solid stone walls of a house sur-
rounded by a magnificent grove of walnuts, and overlook-
ing one of the beautiful valleys so common in southeastern
Pennsylvania. Close by the house, aud shaded by the
same great trees, stood a low building of the most seven'
type, whose time-stained bricks aud timbers green with
moss told its age without the aid of the half-obliterated
inscription over the door, which read, " Built A. D. 1720."
Oue familiar with the country would have pronounced it
\\ithoitt hesitation a Quaker meeting-house, dating back
almost to the time of William Penu.
When Ezra Dale had become the leader of the little band
of Quakers which gathered here every First Day, he had
built the house under the walnut-trees, and had taken his
wife Ann and his little daughter Betty to live there.
That was in 1770. seven years earlier, and before war had
wrought sorrow and desolation throughout the country.
The sun rose higher, and just as his beams touched the
broad stone step in front of I he house the door opened, and
Ann Dale, a sweet-faced woman in the plain Quaker garb,
came out, followed by Betty, a little blue-eyed Quakeress
of twelve years, with a gleam of spirit in her face which
ill became her plain dress.
•• Hetty," said her mother, as they walked out towards
i In- great horse-block by the mail-side, •• thee must keep
house to-day. Friend Robert has just sent thy father word
that the redcoats have not crossed the Brandywine since
Third Day last, and thy father aud I will ride to Chester
to-day, that there may be other than corn-cakes and bacon
for the friends who come to us after monthly meeting.
Mind thee keeps near the house aud finishes thy sampler."
•• Yes, mother," said Betty ; " but will thee not come home
early ? I shall miss thee sadly.''
Just then Ezra appeared, wearing his collarless Quaker
coat, and leading a horse saddled with a great pillion, into
which Ann laboriously climbed after her husband, aud with
a tiual warning aud "farewell" to Betty, clasped him
tightly around the waist lest she should be jolted oil a<
they jogged down the rough and winding lane into the
broad Chester highway.
Friend Auu had many reasons for fearing to leave Betty
alone for a whole day, and she looked back anxiously at
her waving "farewell" with her little bonnet.
It was a troublous time.
The Revolution was at its height, and the British, who
had a short time before disembarked their army near Elk-
tun. Maryland, were now encamped near White Clay Creek,
while Washington occupied the country bordering on the
Brandywine. His force, however, was small compared to
the extent of the country to be guarded, aud bands of t In-
British sometimes crossed the Braudywiue aud foraged in
the fertile eouuties of Delaware aud Chester. As Betty's
father, although a Quaker and a non-combatant, was
known to be a patriot, he had to suffer the fortunes of war
with his neighbors.
Thus it was with many forebodings that Betty's mother
watched the slight figure under the spreading branches of
a great chestnut, which seemed to rustle its innumerable
leaves as if to promise protection to the little maid. How-
ever, the sun shone brightly, the swallows chirped as they
circled overhead, aud nothing seemed farther off than bat-
tle aud bloodshed.
Hetty skipped merrily into the house, and snatching up
some broken corn-cake left from the morning meal, ran
lightly out to the paddock where Daisy was kept, her own
horse, which she had helped to raise from a colt.
"Conic thee here. Daisy," .she said, as she seated herself
on the top rail of the mossy snake fence. " Come thee
here, and thee shall have some of thy mistress's corn-cake.
Ah! I thought thee would like it.' Xow go and eat all
thee cau of this good grass, for if the wicked redcoats
come again, thee will not have another chance, I cau tell
thee."
Daisy whinnied and trotted off, while Betty, feeding tin-
few chickens (sadly reduced in numbers by numerous
654
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
raids), returned to the bouse, and getting her sampler, sat
dowu under a walnut-tree to sew ou the stint which her
mother had given her.
All was quiet save the chattering of the squirrels over-
head and the drowsy hum of the bees, when from around
the curve in the road she heard a shot; then another
nearer, and then a voice shouting commands, and the thud
of hoof-beats farther dowu the valley. She jumped up
witli a startled cry: "The redcoats! The redcoats! Oh,
what shall I do!" '
Just then the foremost of a scattered band of soldiers,
their buft'autl blue uniforms and ill-assorted arms showing
them to be Americans, appeared in full flight around the
curve in the road, and springing over the fence, dashed
across the pasture straight for the meeting-house. Through
the broad gateway they poured, and forcing open the door
of the meeting-house, rushed within and began to barri-
cade the windows.
Their leader paused while his men passed in, and seeing
Betty, came quickly towards her.
"What do you here, child f" he said, hurriedly. "Go
quickly, before the British reach us, and tell your father
that, Quaker or no Quaker, he shall ride to Washington, ou
the Brandywine, and tell him that we, but one hundred
men, an- besieged by three hundred British cavalry in Clii-
chester meeting-house, with but little powder left. Tell
him to make all haste to us."
Turning, ho hastened into the meeting-house, now con-
verted into a tort, and as the doors closed behind him
Betty saw a black muzzle protruding from every win-
dow.
With trembling fingers the little maid picked up her
sampler, and as the thud of horses' hoofs grew louder and
louder, she ran fearfully into the house, locked and bolted
the massive door, and then flying up the broad stairs, she
seated herself in a little window overlooking the meeting-
house yard. She had gone into the house none too soon.
Up the road, with their red coats gleaming and their har-
ness jangling, was sweeping a detachment of British cav-
alry, never stopping until they reached the meeting-house
— and then it was too late.
A sheet of flame shot out from the wall before them, and
half a dozen troopers fell lifeless to the ground, and half a
dozen riderless horses galloped wildly dowu the road. The
leader shouted a sharp command, and the whole troop re-
treated in confusion.
Betty drew back shuddering, and when she brought her-
self to look again the troopers had dismounted, had sur-
rounded the meeting-house, and were pouring volley after
volley at its doors and windows. Then for the first time
Betty thought of the officer's message, and remembered that
the safety of the Americans depended upon her alone, for
her father was away, no neighbor within reach, and with-
out powder she knew they could not resist long.
Could she save them ? All her stern Quaker blood rose
at the thought, and stealing softly to the paddock behind
the barn, she saddled Daisy and led her through the bars
into the wood road, which opened into the highway just
around the bend. Could she but pass the pickets without
discovery there would be little danger of pursuit ; then
there would be only the long ride of eight miles ahead of
her.
Just before the narrow wood road joined the broader
highway Betty mounted Daisy by means of a convenient
stump, and starting oft' at a gallop, had just turned the
corner when a voice shouted " Halt !" and a shot whistled
past her head. Betty screamed with terror, and bending
over, brought down her riding-whip with all her strength
upon Daisy, then, turning for a moment, saw three troopers
hurriedly mounting.
Her heart sank within her, but, beginning to feel the ex-
citement of the chase, she leaned over and patting Daisy
on the neck, encouraged her to do her best. Onward they
sped. Betty, her curly hair streaming in the wind, the
color now mounting to, now retreating from her cheeks, led
by five hundred yards.
But Daisy had not been used for weeks, aud already felt
the unusual strain. Now they thundered over Naaman's
Creek, now over Concord, with the nearest pursuer- only
four hundred yards behind ; and now they raced beside the
clear waters of Beaver Brook, and as Betty dashed through
its shallow ford, the thud of horse's hoofs seemed just over
her shoulder.
Betty, at first sure of success, now knew that unless in
some way she could throw her pursuers off her track she
was surely lost. Just then she saw ahead of her a fork in
the road, the lower branch leading to the Brandywine, the
upper to the Birmingham Meeting-house. Could she but
get the troopers ou the upper road while she took the
lower, she would be safe; and, as if in answer to her wish,
there flashed across her mind the remembrance of the old
cross-road which, long disused, and with its entrance hid-
den by drooping boughs, led from a point in the upper road
just out of sight of the fork down across the lower, and
through the valley of the Braudywiue. Could she gain
this road unseen she still might reach Washington.
Urging Daisy forward, she broke just in time through
the dense growth which hid the entrance, and .sat trem-
bling, hidden behind a dense growth of tangled vines, while
she heard the troopers thunder by. Then, riding through
the rustling woods, she camo at last into the open, and
saw spread out beneath her the beautiful valley of the
Brandywine, dotted with the white tents of the Continental
army.
Starting oft' at a gallop, she dashed around a bend in the
road into the midst of a group of officers riding slowly up
from the valley.
" Stop, little maiden, before you run us down," said one,
who seemed to be in command. "Where are you going in
such hot haste ?"
"Oil, sir," said Betty, reining in Daisy, " can thee tell
me where I can find General Washington ?"
"Yes, little Quakeress," said the officer who had first
spoken to her; "I am he. What do you wish?"
Betty, too exhausted to be surprised, poured forth her
story in a few broken sentences, and (hearing as if in a
dream the hasty commands for the rescue of the soldiers in
Chichester Meeting-house) fell forward in her saddle, and,
for the first time in her life, fainted, worn out by her noble
ride.
A few days later, when recovering from the shock of her
long and eventful ride, Betty, awaking from a deep sleep,
found her mother kneeling beside her little bed, while her
father talked with General Washington himself beside the
fireplace ; and it was the proudest and happiest moment of
her life when Washington, coming forward and taking her
by the hand, said, " You. are the bravest little maid in
America, aud an honor to your country."
Still the peaceful meeting-house and the gambrel-roofed
home stand unchanged, save that their time-beaten timbers
and crumbling bricks have taken ou a more sombre tinge,
and under the broad walnut-tree another little Betty sits
and sews.
If you ask it, she will take down the great key from its
nail, and swinging back the new doors of the meeting-
house, will show you the old worm-eaten ones inside, which,
pierced through aud through with bullet-holes, once served
as a rampart against the enemy. And she will tell you, in
the quaint Friend's language, ho'w her great-great-grand-
mother carried, over a hundred years ago, the news of the
danger of her countrymen to Washington, on the Brandy-
wine, aud at the risk of her own life saved theirs.
KING ARTHTJK AND HIS KNIGHTS.
IV.— -THE FINAL TRIAL.
" rilEX Knights, as before, were put by the stone to guard
-L it until the new trial," continued the Story-tHh-r.
" The Archbishop was not going, through lack of care, to
have it said that anything had been done to the stone
meanwhile to make it harder for the contestants to pull
forth the sword, or easier for Arthur to perform that feat."
" I'll bet those Knights practised on it, though," said
Jack. " I would have.''
655
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THEY ALL KNELT BEFORE HIM, AND HE WAS CROWNED.
"It wouldn't have doue any good, I imagine," said his
father. " There was something mysterious about it all, and
whatever that was it worked in favor of Arthur and against
all the others."
" I don't believe all ten of 'em together could have pulled
it out," Mollie put in. " It was one of those trick swords,
like men swallow at circuses, I guess, and I'm certain that
Mr. Merlin put it there, and showed Arthur how the trick
worked. It had a spring in it, which he could touch with
his thumb to make it come out. maybe."
" Maybe so," said her father, " although I doubt it. There
were lots of queer tilings happening in those days that we
of to-day would hardly believe if we saw them with onrowu
eyes — things that sound in the telling of them quite like
fairy stories."
"Like Merlin being able to toll what was goiug to hap-
pen next week?" suggested Jack.
"Exactly," said the Story-teller. "If anybody claimed
to be able to do that now, we'd laugh at him."
" He'd be a great man for a newspaper," said Jack. " If
a newspaper had a man like that on it, it could tell the peo-
ple in advance that such and such an accident was going
to happen at such and such a time on such and such a rail-
road, aud then the people wouldn't go on that road at that
time, and their lives would be saved."
•• That's so," said Mollie. "And if the accident was go-
ing to happen because a switchman was asleep, somebody
could be sent ahead to wake him up, so that the accident
wouldn't happen at all."
"There is no doubt about it," said the Story-teller. "A
man like Merlin would be very useful in these days, but his
Kind is very much like the leviathans and mastodons that
lived before the flood. The race has died out, and t rue
prophets are as scarce now as huckleberries in December.
But to come back to the story, whether there was a spring
in the sword or not, Merlin was undoubtedly responsible
for it, and whatever he did, he did it in Arthur's behalf, for
when Candlemas day eame about again the same thing
happened that had happened before. The sword would
uot budge for any one but Arthur, and a great many people
began to be convinced that he was the rightful King.
Tli. -re were en. mgh dissatisfied persons, however, to make
one more trial necessary, aud the Archbishop, yielding to
these, set one more date, that of Easter, for the final cou-
test."
•• He had to earn it, didn't he," said Mollie.
" You bet he did," said Jack. " It must
have been like our medals at school..
You've got to win it six times in succession,
once every mouth, before it's yours for
keeps."
" But you kuow about that rule before
you begin," said Mollie. " It's fair enough
in school, but it seems tome Arthur won
it at the start, aud ought to have had it."
'• He certainly did win it at the start, un-
der the terms of the contest," said her fa-
ther. "Still it was just as well, under
the circumstances, tha-t there should be no
dissatisfactiou among those who lost, and
as it wasn't at all hard for Arthur to pull
the sword out, he couldn't complain. The
others had to work a great deal harder
than he did, and, in the end, got nothing
for their pains."
" I guess the Archbishop kind of liked
to see all those people pulling and haul-
ing at it," suggested Jack, with a grin.
" It must have been something like a circns-
for him, anyhow, with all those knights in
their line spangles, and their horses with,
splendid harness, and all that."
" Very likely," said the Story - teller.
" That view of it never occurred to me be-
fore. It has always been a matter of won-
der to me that the Archbishop made poor
Arthur go through the ordeal so many
times, but now I begin to understand
it. He wanted to bo entertained as much as anybody
else, and very possibly he ordered so many repetitions-
of the performances to that end, knowing, of course, that
by so doing he could not injure Arthur's chances. Arthur
had to be very careful of himself, however, between times.
The other Kuights were too anxious for the prize to stop at
playing tricks on him, aud Sir Ector saw to it that wher-
ever he went he had a stroug guard about him to keep him
from harm. These guards, made up of the most faithful
men in his father's service, kept watch over him night and
day until Easter, when the final trial came off with no
change in the result. Arthur pulled the sword lightly out
of the stone, but despite their struggles the others could do
nothing with it. Then the people themselves were satis-
fied. The Knights may not have liked it any better than
before, but the people did, and they cheered him to tbe-
echo, and said that the question was now settled for once
and for all, and offered to slay any man who now dared to
say that Arthur was uot entitled to the throne. They all-
knelt before him, and he was knighted by one of the brav-
est men of the day, and shortly after he was crowned. It
\vas a long trial for him, but he was patient and worthy,
and withstood every test, and in the end he got his re-
ward."
"Well, I'm glad of it," said Jack. '• The way they made
him work for it seems to me to have entitled him to it."
"Papa," said Mollie, after a little thought on the matter^
"was this King Arthur any relation to the man Jack-the-
Giant-Killer was always sending giant's heads to."
" He was the very same man," replied her father. " Why?''
"I was only thinking, "said Mollie, "that if it was the-
same man, Jack couldn't have tried to pull that sword out,
because I'm pretty certain he could have done it."
" Perhaps," said her father, "but that could only have
left the question as to the rightful King unsettled."
"I don't think so," cried Jack. "Because then they'd
have had to have a match between Arthur and Jack. That
would have settled it."
" Aud who do you think would have won in that event?"
asked the Story-teller.
" Well," said Mollie, dubiously, " of course, I don't know,
but I'd have stood for Jack."
"I'm with you, then," said the modern Jack. "A boy
who could handle giants the way he did wouldn't have had
much trouble with a fellow like Arthur."
656
I
L
iINTERSCHOKASTIC
THE RIVALRY BETWEEN WORCESTER AND PHILLIPS
Andover academies, which has existed ever since the two
big schools first met on track aiid field in the New Eug-
land Interscholastics, was made even greater by the dual
games held at Worcester on the 8th. Andover had felt
confident of winning, but a combination of hard luck and
a poor and unfamiliar track tended to cause her defeat.
As at Hartford, for the Connecticut H.-S.A.A. games on the
same day, there was a bad wind blowing up the track wliich
interfered with good time for the sprints, the 100 being
done to the exceedingly slow time of Hi sees. The score
of 62 to 50, however, does not by any means show how
close the contest was, for first one side was ahead and then
the other; so that it was not until the last event of
the day had been decided that the Worcester contingent
felt certain of their victory. To-day the Andover men are
doubtless somewhat consoled by the way their athletes
turned the tables on their Worcester rivals at the Inter-
scholastics on the 15th, and the regrets for defeat must
be considerably lessened by the conviction that should
the Worcester contest be held again, the result would cer-
tainly be different. Andover made 25 points at Cambridge,
while Worcester Academy scored but 9|.
WHERE ANDOVER SUFFERED MOST at Worcester was in
the bicycle race and in the 100-yard dash. Manning was
fully ten yards ahead of the field in the former event, and
it looked as if the dark blue were here sure of six points at
least, for Palmer was coming along rapidly behind him,
when the leader lost control of his wheel and fell. Palmer
rushed up and tumbled almost at the same spot, leaving
Forsyth the only Audover man in the race. The latter
forged ahead, and by a powerful spurt passed Campbell of
Worcester, who was leading. He thought he had won as
he shot, past the winning post, but he had gone only seven
laps, and as he slowed up the three Worcester riders went
by him to take all the points at the finish. In the 100 the
judges made a bad decision. Every one on the field — ex-
cepting those whose province it was to do so — saw Seun of
Audover win the race by about a foot. Sargent was an-
Barker, W.A. Gaskell, P A. Munn, P.A.
THE 220-YARD RUN, \VORCE3TER-ANDO VER GAMES.
nounced the victor, however, and for some odd reason Au-
dover made no protest. Perhaps they were too confident of
victory. But even if Seuu had been awarded the first
place (all the other events resulting as they did), the score
would still have been in Worcester's favor — 59 to 53, so the
mistake of the judges was of little consequence, except to
Seun as an individual.
HOLT OF ANDOVER DID THE BEST WORK for the visiting
team. He captured the high hurdles in 18j! sees., put the
16-lb. shot 33 ft. 6 in., and threw the 12-lb. hammer 104 ft.
Holt, P.A. Hlne, P.A. Cliase, W.A.
120- YARD HURDLE RACE, ANDOVER-WORCESTER GAMES
6 in. In , the weight events he did not equal his own»
best records. Laing ran a good race in the half-mile and
the mile, leading all the way in both events, and in the
latter lie was followed home by two of his schoolmates.
It is noteworthy that in almost all sports where Andover
men enter they are particularly strong in the long-distance
runs. The field events were the most exciting for the spec-
tators, because the score was such that all depended on the
result of these. Here the Audover men excelled, but on
the track, as will readily be seen from the table of results
printed in this Department last week, the Worcester ath-
letes were superior. On the whole, the meeting between
the two teams was most successful, and Worcester Academy
deserves great praise for her victory. She won it by hard
work, and deserved every point scored. At the present
moment the Worcester schools may justly claim first place-
in the ranks of track athletic sports; for after the High-
School's performance on Holmes Field, on the 15th, it is
plain that few scholastic associations could hope to worst
them.
ON THE FOLLOWING WEDNESDAY Andover did better.
The nine met the Lawrenceville baseball team on their own
grounds and it was theirs. Everybody was surprised; even
Audover. Not so much at the victory, perhaps, for P.A. men
are always sanguine, but uo one anticipated a whitewash.
Audover put up the best game of the year, and I have not
seen Lawrenceville play worse. Men who had scarcely made
any errors during the entire season muffed and fumbled
like a lot of novices; and in betweeutimes the Andover men
pounded the ball, and the crowd helped things along gen-
erally by plenty of shouting. Perhaps the crowd and the
unfamiliar field had something to do with Lawreuceville's
defeat, but it is hard to understand why the Jersey play-
ers, who have been batting well all the spring, could not
find the ball when they had men on second and third.
Possibly Sedgwick can explain this. Sedgwick was a host
in himself, and he received such support as has not been
657
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
NEW ENGLAND I.S.A.A. GAMES, HOLMES FIELD, CAMBRIDGE, JUNE 15, 1S95.
Event.
.VE 1 ,>.A A.
Made by
Winner June 15, IS95.
Performance.
Points m«de by Schools.
100-yard dash
•-'•^"-\ ;u'd run
14U-v;U'd nil]
ID 1-5 sec.
•!•! -2-5 "
60 3-5 "
•_' in. 6 "
4 " 34 2-5 "
T " 36 "
17 2-5 "
2T "
2 " 41 3-5 "
5 ft. 7 3-4 in.
21 " 6 "
10 " 63-4 "
125 "
39 " 3 "
F. H. Bigelow, W.H.-S., 1394
F. H. Bigelow, W.H.-S., 1894
T. E. Burke, E.H.-S., 1S94
s. Wesson, W.A., 1S94
W. T. Lain.j, P.A.,1S94
P. J. McLaujjhlin, W.H.-S.. '93
W. W. Ilovt, R.L.S., 1S93
A. II. Hiiic, P. A., 1S94
A. A. Densmore, Hopkinson, '93
C. J. Paine, Hopkinson, 1S93
C. Brewer, Hopkinson, 1890
W. W. Hoyt, R.L.8., 1894
R. F. Johnson, B.H.-S., iv.n
M. O'Brien, E.H.-S., 1S94
J. T. Roche, W.H.-S.
J. T. Roche. W.H.-S.
R. S. Hull, W.H.-S.
A. Albertsim, W.H.-S.
D. T. Sullivan, W.H.-S.
C. V. Moore, N.U.-S.
A. H. Hine, P. A.
A. H. Hine, P.A.
H. Freyberg, W.H.-S.
F. Holt, K.L.S. |
R. Ferguson, E.H.-S. f
E. L. Mills, S.II.-S.
B. Johnson, W. A.
M. Sargent. Hopkinson
E. Holt, P.A.
10 3-S sec.
23 2-5 "
533-5 "
2m. 5 "
4 " 42 4-5 "
1 " IS 3-5
18 1-5 "
2T4-5 "
2 " 40 3-5 "
5ft. 71-2 in.
20 " 3 "
in " T
119 " 4
•M " 11 1-2 "
Worcester H.-S 33
English H.-S 121-2
Worcester Academy 9 2-5
HopUinson 6
Newton H.-S 51-5
l.'ii-vard hurdle
•.'•-"'-yard hurdle
Somerville H.-S 5
Noble's 4 1-5
Roxbnry Latin 31-2
Cambridge H. and L. 3
Lynn II -S 21-5
Running high jump . .
Running broad jump.
Pole vault
C'helaeaH.-S 2
L'hauncey Hall 1
Total ."112
Throwing 12-11). ham'r
Puttins; 16-lh. shot ..
Firsts count 5. Seconds 2. Thirds 1.
given by the Audover players to any pitcher this season.
He struck out nine of his opponents and gave only two
bases on balls, whereas he was hit safely only six times.
Drew, who caught him, played an errorless game; iu fact,
every mau on the team did, with the exception of Harker,
who made in the first inning the
— I only misplay for the side.
THE HARD HITTING OP THE
home team would have won the
game even if Lawrenceville had
shown better field-work. P.A.
made twelve hits, including a
A t two-bagger, two three-base hits,
and a home run. Greeiiway led
with two singles and a three-
bagger, while Barton made a
two-bagger and a, home run. As
for the error-making, Lawrence-
ville took the lead in that in the
fourth inning. Sedgwick got his
base on balls, and was thrown out
at second; Greeuway took tirst
on an error and second on an er-
ror; Elliott got to first on balls ;
Dayton followed him on an er-
ror, which let Greenway home ;
Waddell went to first after being
struck by a ball, and after Davis
had struck out both Dayton and
Elliott scored on an error. For-
rmiately for Lawrenceville, the
A. H. HINE. inning was closed by Waddell's
being thrown out at third.
THIS is TIII-: Tiinui CONSECUTIVE DEFEAT that Lawrence-
ville has suffered at the hands of Audover in baseball, and
never before has the victory of the Massachusetts team
been so decided. The only way to account for the Jersey-
nifii's weakness is that they were affected by the long
journey, and were probably " rattled " by the Anclover
crowd. Tliis LawrenceviLlii nine can do better. A team
that can play the University of Pennsylvania 6-ff and
Princeton 2-5 ought not to succumb to'Audover by 11-0.
The following day Lawrenceville met Exeter, but only
seven innings were played, as the visitors had to catch a.
train for home. When play was stopped the score stooil
3-3, and there was considerable dissatisfaction on. Exeter's
part because the last two innings could not be finished.
Lawrenceville showed better form than was exhibited at
Audover, making only two errors ; but Exeter was pla\ ing
good ball too, and it is an open question now as to which
is the better team. Next year more careful arrangements
should lie made, for the memory of this season's game will
always be unsatisfactory.
THE CHAMPIONSHIP PKNNAVT OF THE NEW ENGLAND
I.S.A.A. remains at Worcester. It was carried down there
by the High-School athletes last March, and they made
their title to it secure on Holmes Field a week ago Satur-
day by rolling up a score twenty points greater thau any
Boston school — greater, in fact, than the scores of all the
Boston schools put together. Audover had the satisfac-
tion of finishing second, with her old rival, the Worcester
Academy, who defeated her the week before, in fourth
place. Tin' games were well managed, and, considering the
fact that there were 335 entries, the events were run off
with commendable promptness. Four records were broken,
and a good many others that are up pretty high already
were closely approached, as the accompanying table will
show. The marks that wnt were the half-mile, the walk,
the bicycle, and the pole vault. Albertson, AV.H.-S., has
held the record for the 1000-yard run for two years, and
his practice at that distance has made him a capable run-
ner for the half. He kept well back in the bunch when
the race started, and waited until the very last corner was
behind him before he attempted to pull away from hi.s com-
panions. Then he spurted, and passed the three men ahead
of him, winning easily a full second under record time.
THE BIGGEST ALTERATION of figures, however, was made
after Moore of Newton H.-S. had won the mile walk. He
was looked npou as a winner at the start, but no one an-
ticipated such au excellent performance as 7 min. 18£ sec.
He is as graceful in his work as any man can be in this
acrobatic event, and will surely be heard from in years to
come if the walk is not abolished from the amateur and
collegiate programmes.
The probabilities are,
however, that in a very
few years the walk,
like the tug-of-war, will
be a back number; but
Moore is a good athlete,
and he will surely be
able to be just as prom-
inent in some other
branch of sport. The
spectators were almost
as deeply interested
in Rudischhauser and
Williams's contest for
last place, as they were
in M
first.
A PLEASING FEATURE
of the bicycle races
was the absence of acci-
dents. There was not
a single spill, and every
man rode for all he was
worth. New men took
the points; and that is
a good thing. Both
Freyberg and Druett
broke the tape ahead
of record time in the second heat, but in
they ran four seconds behind. The final
A
E. G. HOLT.
the finals
heat, al-
though not the fastest, was the most interesting Sis
men started, and for the first quarter Freyberg held the
lead. Then he was passed by Boardman and Cunningham,
638
HARPEE'S ROUND TABLE
who set the pace for a lap, after which the
W.H.-S. rider pushed ahead, and left every
one belaud. The finish spurt •was good, but
it was evident that every ridrr was tired
from the eft'ects of the trial heats. It would
be well next year to follow the plan adopt-
ed by the Inter-collegiate' Association of
having the preliminary heats on the previ-
<>n> day.
XOXK OF THE FIELD EVENTS were particu-
larly interesting, except the pole vault, in
\\ In I'll Johnson of Worcester Academy broke
Hoyt's record by a quarter of an inch. The
high jumpers only reached ~> ft. 71 in., where
Holt, E.L.S., and Ferguson, E.H.-S., tied for
first place. Mills of Somerville High came
iu as an unknown quantity, and took the
broad jump with a leap of '20 ft. 3 in. Au-
dover's strong men were Holt and Hiue.
At the dual games at Worcester, Holt did
giant's work, but at the Interscholastics he
only took one first, in the shot, defeating
O'Brien, whom many had looked upon as a
sure winner, and a place with the hammer.
Hiue's hurdling was most graceful, and both,
races were exciting. In the bigh finals the
racers kept well abreast for thirty yards;
then Hine forged slowly ahead, but was o\ er-
taken by Ferguson, whom lie beat home by
a few feet only. The low hurdles were even
more thrilling. Fuller led at the start, but
was caught by Hine at the fourth hurdle.
Then it was jump and jump for twenty-live
or thirty yards; but, Hine had better form,
and came in several feet ahead. The day
was most satisfactory from the point of view
of sport, and every performance of the New-
Englanders made ine wish they might meet
the New York school athletes on an open
track and a level field. What a contest that
•would be! No effort should be spared to
bring it about, and the only way to do it is
to form one large all-embracing Interscho-
lastic Association.
ONE coiiiucsn INDENT UUGES Hartford as
the most suitable place for the meeting. He
believes it would be preferable to New
Haven for many reasons, one of whicb is
that the Yale field 'track is only a quarter
of a mile around, whereas the track at the
Charter Oak Park is a mile in circumfer-
ence and sixty feet wide. 'It is a question
whether, for the purposes of an Interscbo-
lastic meet of this kind, a mile track would
be as good as a lesser one. The time made
might be faster if the road-bed were in good
condition, but tbe spectators would not en-
joy the races so much as if the runners
passed the grand stand a number of times;
and the men themselves would find greater
difficulty in gauging their speed, most of
them being accustomed to four or five lap
tracks. A better argument in favor of Hart-
ford is that three railroads centre there.
OF THE SCHOOL ATHLETES who took part
in the New York A.C. games at Travers Isl-
and, several secured places. Baltazzi won
first in the high jump, clearing 5 ft. 101 in.
Fisber went into the 100 and the 220, but
was distanced, and Powell got a tumble in
the bicycle race. Whether it was his own
fault I cannot say ; but there are very few
races he has ridden in this year where he
has been able to keep in bis saddle all the
•way around the course. He retained his
seat in the Interscholastics and won. W.
T. Laing came down from Andover, and en-
tered the mile with t'onnett' and Ortou. He
had 40 yards handicap, and came in second,
with Ortou behind him. Orton, however,
v. as pretty well fagged out from the eft'ects
of his half-mile race with Walsh. F. W.
Phillips, of Bryant and Stratum's, had a
handicap of 6 inches iu the pole vault, and
by making an actual leap of 10 ft. 3 iu., se-
en red first, over Baxter at scratch, who clear-
ed 10 ft. 6 iu.
SOME CREDITABLE PERFORMANCES Were
made at the field meeting of tbe Pittsbnrg
Intel-scholastic A.A., which was held at tbe
Pittsburg Athletic Club Park last week.
Only four schools were represented, but the
crowd was enthusiastic and the events well
managed. Graff, of Shadyside Academy,
did the best all-round work. He wou the
100 iii 10f sec., and the 220 in 24 sec., besides
taking first in the hop, step, and jump (an-
other of those acrobatic events which have
been handed down from the Dark Ages), and
third iu the shot. If the Pittsburg H.-.S.
athletes had been better trained they would
have made a more creditable showing, for
there is good material there. As n
they managed to score 21 points out of a
possible 135. Shadyside Academy, the win-
ner, got 51, and was followed by the Park
Institute with 44. Allegheny, the tail-euder,
scored 19 points.
THE CHAMPIONSHIP of the Southern Con-
necticut Baseball League went to the Black
Hall School again this year. The final
game was played on June 1st, against the
Norwich Free Academy. The Black Hall
team suffered only one defeat out of the six
games of the series — a very creditable per-
formance, considering the numerical size
and athletic1 strength of the other schools
in the League. Their success was due to
the steady work of the battery, their strong
batting, and careful base-ruuuiug.
THE GRADUATE.
ADVERTISEMENTS.
Highest of all in Leavening Power. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Baking
Powder
ABSOLUTELY PURE
The Interscholastic Sport Department of HARPER'S ROUND
TABLE will be as full of matter interesting to its present readers
during the summer months as it is now. Many will go to dis-
tant summer resorts where there may be no newsdealer. To
insure the prompt receipt of the paper each week, send the ac-
companying coupon bearing your name and address with 50
cents for 13 weeks, or $2.00 for one year.
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Thoroughly revised, classified, and indexed, will be sent
by mail to "any address on receipt uf ten cents.
659
HAEPEE'S EOUND TABLE
Bicycle route.
Fair ticyde rosd.:
Dangerous hi/I.
Hi for poor road,
—^-Railway station
•f- HoM. ,
o. © ©
BICYCLING
Copyright, 1895, by Harper & Brothers.
This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will be pleased to-
answer any question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly
supplied from the official nmjis and road-books of the Leajiue of American \Vhetlmen. Recog-
nizing tho value of the work being done by the L- A. W., the Editor will be pleased to furnish
subscribers with membership blanks and information so far as possible.
THE map this week continues from the point, Tarry-
town, reached on map published in No. 810 of the
ROUND TABLE, to Ponghkeepsie, a ride of over forty miles,
which would he another and second stage on the route
from New York to Albany. All routes of this nature must,
of course, be divided by wheelmen reading this Department
into sections of a length which is most suitable for their own
special purposes. It is perfectly simple, for example, for a
good rider to go from New York to Poughkeepsie in one
day. On the other hand, for one who is unaccustomed to-
long distances the route shown on this map, from Tarry-
town to Poughkeepsie, is a very good ride. When the
series, therefore, covering a distance from New York to
Albany is published, by putting the maps together each
wheelman may choose how far he will go each day.
Running out of Tarrytowu, the rider takes the Albany
Post Road and passes the Andre" Monument (1), which he
should pause to examine. After leaving this monument he
will come to St. Paul's Methodist Episcopal Church. Here
he should turn to the left and go down a long hill, thence
following the turnpike, which is unmistakable, until he
reaches Sing Sing, a distance of seven miles. If the wheel-
man takes time for it, he may turn down to the river, about
a mile before reaching Sing Sing, and stop a moment to
take a look at the State-prison. From Sing Sing the road
to Peekskill is direct; but it is a difficult twelve-mile ride,
with hills all along the way, especially just before crossing
to Croton Point, again on the Point, and then all the way
up to Peekskill. The road itself is sandy, and occasionally
covered with loam. The riding is not very good, and the
wheelman is wise if he dismounts frequently. After leav-
ing Croton, and when approaching Verplank Point, he can
look across the river to Haverstraw, and see Treason Hill,
where the meeting between Arnold and Andre" took place,
and the terms of the surrender of West Point were made.
From Peekskill the rider runs out about half a mile to the
north, then turns to the left and follows the telegraph-
poles to Garrison's. Immediately after crossing the bridges,
on going out of Peekskill, he will notice on the left the
State Camp (4). The road is sandy, and there are some had
hills over these eight miles.
If the rider has time to stop for a look at historic places,
he should turn to the left after leaving the Peekskill en-
campment-grounds and run down to Highland Station,
from whence he can see across the river the site of old Forts
Clinton and Montgomery (5 and 6). Keeping on this road
and running up to Garrison's along the shore, he will pass
Beverly House, Arnold's old headquarters (7). At Garri-
son's is the old Phillipse Manor, and directly across the
river is the United States Military Academy of West Point.
The best road from this point to Wappinger's Falls is to fol-
low the black route on the map, keeping to the right be-
yond Garrison's, and running on through Fishkill to Wap-
pinger's Falls, a distance of eighteen miles.
It is possible, however, to keep to the left just beyond
Garrison's, and following the fair bicycle route, keep to the
shore of the Hudson. The road, however, is much more
hilly through these highlands. By taking this route the
wheelman may cross the ferry at Fishkill village to New-
bnrg. where he may see the Washington headquarters (10),
and Knox's headquarters and winter camp (11) just outside
New burg. On the road from Fishkill-on-the-Hudsou to-
Fishkill itself he will pass the State Hospital for the In-
sane (12). The road from Wappiuger's Falls into Pmigh-
NOTK.— Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of
route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
Connecticut, in No. Sll. New York to Slaten Island in No. 812. New-
Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No.SU.
Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Nortbport in No. S16.
660
HAEPEE'S EOUXD TABLE
keepsie, a distance of eight arid a quarter
miles, is moderately good. The roads are
easy riding, and the grades are not bad.
The rider should turn to the right on leav-
ing Wappinger's Falls, cross Wappinger's
Creek, and take South Avenue direct into
Pouglikeepsie. On tin- way lie passes at
the right of the Gallaudet Home for Deaf-
Mutes (13). and if he cares to, after reach-
ing Pouglikeepsie, he may struggle up the
Ponghkeepsie Hills to take a look at Vassnr
College (.14).
A CITY BOY'S CONCLUSION.
THE cricket 'neath the old rail fence
His song forever toots.
And sounds MS if he's breaking in
A brand-new pair of boots.
PUDDING
This Department is conducted in the interest of t.Jirls and Yonne
Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on
the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.
AMONG tbe accomplishments which girls
may cultivate to advantage none sur-
passes that of reading aloud to the satisfac-
tion of others. It is singular that more of
.us do riot acquire this delightful art. I do
not mean that we should become elocution-
ists, or study to be proficient in dramatic
•effects; I simply advise girls who wish to
.give pleasure to their families and friends
practise the art of reading intelligently,
u a clear and distinct voice, pronouncing
heir words plainly, giving each sentence its
ull meaning, and being careful not to drop
he voice too suddenly at the end of a para-
graph. It is so natural to let the voice fall
;oo much and too far at the close of a para-
graph,that those who wish to be heard make
point of learning how to use the rising in-
[ection — not to the degree which implies
nterrogatiou, but, so to speak, leaving off
with tones on the level, so that the voice
arries well across the room.
DURING VACATION* you will have oppor-
iunities to exercise this gift if j-ou possess
t. Half a ddzen girls may enjoy the same
tory if one reads aloud while the rest work.
?he dear auntie whose sight is failing, and
who is bidden by the doctor to rest her eyes,
•ill be very much obliged to you if you will
ead to her an hour or more a day at inter-
vals, as she and you may find convenient.
I HAVE FOUND in my own experience that
When I am reading with a view to remem-
lering a poem or essay or chapter of his-
ory, it is fixed upon my mind more readily
han otherwise if I read the passage aloud
;o myself. Hearing as well as seeing the
words, two senses aid in carrying the mes-
a^e to the brain. I like to read poetry aloud
vhen I am alone, thus doubly enjoying its
music and its IV-eliug.
•As KVKP.Y BRIGHT young woman should
be informed about current events, my girl
friends hardly need the reminder to read
.he daily papers. In doing this, read ac-
cording to system. You will be able to se-
cure better results if yon have a plan than
if you scan the journal taken in your home
in a slip-shod, heedless way.
EVERY NEWSPAPER has its summary of
contents, in which the news of that day and
paper are condensed and presented in a com-
pact form. Head this first. Select from this
what you most wish _to read — the foreign
letters, the society gossip, the political lead-
ers, the description of a prominent person-
age. Whatever you read, read with your
whole attention, and learn how to skip a
great many things which, while coming un-
der the head of news, are riot important to
yon. Reports of crime, for example, must
be published, but yon and I can very well
omit reading them.
.SOMEBODY IN THE HOUSE, and it may as
well be you, dear daughter Jane or Charlotte,
should take upon herself to see that the daily
papers are not spirited off to line closet-
shelves or kindle the kitchen fire before
they are a week old. Father often wishes
to refer to last Thursday's Sun or Tribune,
Brother Tom wants another look at yester-
day's Hernld or the Weekly Record or Eegin-
ln', whatever the favorite paper may be.
Nothing is more annoying than to search
the house over — mother's room, the library,
the back parlor, the halls — and discover no
trace of the longed-for sheet, which prob-
ably has been dissolved into ashes, fluff, and
smoke, to save Bridget a little trouble. You
might charge yourself with seeing that no
paper is ever destroyed until it is a whole
week old. Also when a paper contains an
item or a story which will probably interest
grandmother or Uncle Roger in another
town, it is very sweet in you to slip a wrap-
per around the paper, first marking the col-
umn in question, and mail it to the person
to whom it will give pleasure. Do not for-
get the marking. Nobody likes to spend a
morning hunting for the reason why a pa-
per has been sent to him.
&.
DON'T WOURY YOURSELF
and don't worry the baby: avoid both unpleasant con-
ditions by giving the child pure, digestible food.
Don't use t-olid preparations. Infant Health is a
valuable pamphlet for mothers. Send your address to
the New York Condensed Milk Company,N. Y. — [Adv.],
ADVERTISEMENTS.
Ipostagc Stamps,
100 all dif. Venezuela, Costa Rica, etc., only
lUc.; 2110 all rlif.Hayti, Hawaii, etc. ,only 50c.
Ag'ta wanted at 50 per ct.com. List FREE!
C.A.Stegiiiaiin,27'22EadsAv.,St.Louis,lI<).
var., all dif., 5c.; 12 var. Heligoland,
_ _ 15c.; 6var. Italy, 1858tolS62, 5c.; 3 var.
Hanover, 5c.: SB var. C. American, 50c. Agents wauled.
F. W. MILLER, 904 Olife St., St. Louis, Mo.
all different, China, etc., 10c.; 5 Saxony, 10c.;
4" Spain, inc.: C Tunis, 14r.; 10 U. S. Ufv-
enues, lOc. Agts. wtd., 50^ com.; '95 list free.
CRITTENDEN & BORGMAN CO., Detroit, Mich.
061
100
a Living Picture
of health — because she uses Pond's Extract
at her toilet, and appreciates the fact that no
substitute can equal it.
Avoid substitutes; accept genuine only,
with bull wrapper and yellow label.
POND'S EXTRACT CO., 76 Filth flve.. New York.
Sick Headache
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Constipation
are quickly and pleas-
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Tarrant's
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The most valuable
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SO Cents and $1.00— All Druggists.
FREE — Palmer Cox's, The Brownies' Discovery — Illustrated.
TARRANT <S Co., Chemists, New York.
The Eight Numbers of the Franklin
Square Song Collection contain
1600
of the Choicest Old and New Songs
and Hymns in the Wide World.
Fifty Cents per Number iu paper; Sixty Cents in
substantial Board binding; One Dollar in Cloth.
The Eight Numbers also bound in two volumes at
$3.00 each. Address Harper & Brothers, New York.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Prize Story Awards.
The Bouud Table offered a First Prize of $50, a
Second of $25, and a Third of J25 for the best original
stories written by authors who had not passed their
eighteenth birthday. .There was no condition about
the kind of a story required, but appearance of manu-
script, spelling, construction, character, and plot were
to be considered. Stories were required to contain
not more than two thousand nor fewer than one thou-
sand words. There were a few under five hundred
contestants, some of whom were as young as ten, and
iu one case seven years. Many stories were extremely
clever, considering the ages of their authors.
The First Prize is won by a Knight who lives in
Delaware. His name is Henry S. Canby, aged sixteen.
A Knight, also from a Southern State (South Carolina),
won the first prize in the Table's previous story con-
test The Second Prize is won by a Lady. She is
thirteen, and lives in Minnesota. Her name is Nancy
Howe Wood, and the title of her story, which will be
published in order, is "An Exciting Game." The
story standing third is "Joey's Christmas." It reached
us bearing no name of the writer, although it said it
was intended for this contest. Owing to this oversight
by the author we cannot award it the Third Prize.
We will, however, give the author, when found, an
extra prize of $10. Will he or she write us? The
Third Prize is awarded to the story standing fourth.
It is "The Beverly Ghost," by Jennie Mae Blakeslee,
aged fifteen, a resident of New Jersey. The Table
congratulates the winners.
Stories by the following authors are specially com-
mended, the order of that praise being indicated by
the order in which names are printed : Upton B. Sin.
clair, Jnn., Frances Chittenden, Constance F. Wheeler,
Edith den Bleyker, Alice E. Dyar, Maude Newbolt, A.
D. Parsons, Oliver Bunce Ferris, Agnes Barton, Fanny
Fullertou, Joseph B. Ames, Helen H. Hayes, Louis
E. Thayer, George Clarkson Hirts, George W. Halli-
well, Jim., Janet Ashley, Ray Bailey Stevenson, Edith
Eckfield, Guy Hugh Leland, Helen L. Biruie, Virginia
Louise De Caskey.
An Old Civil War Veteran.
Living here is the oldest cavalry horse of the
civil war. Ha belongs to Sergeant B. F. Crawford,
Company C, Sixteenth Pennsylvania Cavalry, who
captured him iu Virginia .lust after his owner had
beeu shot from his back. He was then eight years
old. Now he is forty, as black as coal, save for
some gray hairs iu mane and tail, and still fond of
martial music, especially on Decoration day, the
local parade of which he always forms a part.
Last year he went to the National Encampment
of the Grand Army at Pittsburg, but he is too
feeble to go to another. " Old Ned " is his name,
and he is a universal favorite. His greatest war
service was his three days at Gettysburg, where he
was in at the beginning and finish, and didn't get
a scratch. HARKY MOORUEAD.
MOBTH EAST, PA.
Care and Food of Fresh-water Turtles.
Several members ask about the care and food of
turtles— really fresh-water tortoises. They should
be kept iu a tank or vessel, with some sort of an
island upon which they may crawl when tired of
swimming. The best food for them is fresh ani-
mal food— flies, worms, or very tiny live fish. If a
live fly is put on the water so that it will kick, the
tortoise will come up and get it, as he will not be
so apt to do with a dead one. A worm may be
dropped in for him once in a while ; but as these
are sometimes hard to find, he may be fed with
bits of meat, raw or Cooked. As a rule, tortoises
will not eat vegetables or bread, though these will
not hurt them. They can go for a long time with-
out food, but it is better to feed them every
day.
A Jaunt Up Mount Macedon.
One fine day in December a few girl friends and
I thought of walking from Woodend to the top of
Mount Macedon and back aSain. The first part of
the road leading to the Mount was smooth, and
the shade thrown by ttie eucalyptus-trees was very
pleasant. As we got further on it became rather
hot, and we were glad to rest and eat our luncheon
in a cool spot about half-way up the Mount. Lilac
Walk is a beautiful spot at the top of Mount Mace-
don, and is so called because wild lilac blooms
there in profusion. The trees, which are tall, in-
terlace and form arches, which almost shut out
the sun.
The Camel's Hump is the highest peak of Mount
Macedon. It was a very steep climb, but we were
rewarded for it. We could see around us miles
and miles of beautiful country, with here and there
a tiny house among the trees. On a fine day you
can see Port Phillip Bay, which is over forty miles
distant. On our way back we saw a beautiful
place thickly covered with ferns, with a tiny
stream running through it. We did not feel very
tired when we got there, although we had walked
fourteen miles. I intend forwarding you next
time a brief description of the Hanging Rock near
Woodend. EVELINE WALLACE, E. T. L.
TASUA, MOKKLAND RD., W. COBUEG.
What Shall Our Badges Be?
The Founders decided the Order is to have a new
badge, to be made iu two styles. One is to be of
silver, or at least of some material that may be
secured at a low price, say ten cents, and the other
of gold, or gold and enamel, to cost as much as
fifty cents, perhaps ; certainly little if any more.
A score or more Founders suggested that designs
be submitted. Very good. Now where shall we
get the designs? Do members wish to give us
some? If so. send them in. Draw them in either
India or wash, that we may reproduce them.
Here is the top of what is said to be the original
King Arthur's Table. It is preserved iu the ca-
thedral at Winchester, England. The figure i* that
of Arthur, and the names are those of the original
Knights. It was suggested that the badge be a re-
production of this, but if the entire table-top be
employed designs will be so small they cannot be
read. Besides, we Americans hardly want to wear
badges bearing a figure of royalty, do we? Why
not use the rose in the centre— the rose is historic
—and vary the inscription around it?
In making designs, be careful to consider the
time and nation. One member sends us a design in
which appears the fleur-de-lis, which is French, not
English. The sword, ancient pattern, the red and
white rose, the cross, other than the Latin— all
these may be used. Of course we will keep the
"K. L. O. R. T." If need be. the words could >>e
spelled out: "Knights: Ladies: Order: Round:
Table." Let us have your designs at once. Any
662
who wish may submit them. The two or three
best will be published, if made so we can repro-
duce them. Possibly an artist can select the best
features of several and combine them. So send
along your ideas.
How to Plan a Gala Evening.
For July or August there are few entertainments
more novel and delightful than out-of-door ones.
Why not have some in aid of the School Fund ? Or
they might be partly in aid of the Fund and partly
for the benefit of a Chapter. The way to begin is
to get together from six to a dozen friends, and
then write to us for particulars.
Here is briefly what we shall recommend, but be
sure to write, because we can give you more ex-
plicit directions than we have space for here. We
shall give you titles of some very funny farces and
pantomimes, similar to those that college students
give as burlesques, and which any company of per-
sons of any age can learn and render with very
little trouble and with certain success. We shall
also tell you how to build a rustic stage out of
doors, to arrange hemlocks or spruces for " scen-
ery," etc. A good way is to charge a fee of twenty-
five cents, and give, after the stage entertainment
is over, a plate of ice-cream free. You will have
plenty of fun— and help a good cause, and perhaps
yourselves. Write us, sure.
A Natural History Bit.
There are a great many violets about here, and
the ones we have the most of are the swamp vio
lets and the little ones that grow in the fields. The
swamp violets are a very light purple with darker
lines on the lower petal
There are from two to
twenty violets on one
plant. They grow iu the
wen ids and in wet places
The white violets also
grow in the woods. They
are very much smaller
and are entirely white
except the lower petal
which has purple lines
They are very sweet. :
have never seen more
than seven or eight vio
lets on one plant.
There are three cither
kinds that I know of tha
grow in the woods
One is the yellow violet
It grows in dry places
and there is usually mure
than one violet on a stem.
The leaves also grow on
the stem, instead of start-
ing from the roots, as
most others do. The
flower is a bright yellow,
with purple lines on the
lower petal. There is the
crow's-foot violet, which
grows iu dry places and
is a deep purple ; also a
little purple violet whose
name I do not know. It
grows much like the yel-
low violet, only it is much
smaller, and often grows on rocks where there is
very little earth.
Thf violet that grows in the fields is very small,
and is oftenest a deep purple, but sometimes the
petals are purple and white mottled together.
CONNECTICUT. H. W. S.
A Bit of An Old Fort.
Not very far from Bluffton near Beaufort is situ-
ated the island called Paris Island. A friend ot
my fa flier's owns a part of this, and he says that ou:
it are the remains of old Fort Charles, built by the-
Huguenots in 1562. Will some one please write fa
me? I am fourteen. Bluffton is in the very south-
\Yi>t<Tti part of Beaufort County, S. C. The steam-)
er Alpha plies between Bluffton, Beaufort, and Sa-
vannah, but she is the slowest steamer in existence.
BLUFFTON. AUGUST MlTTELL.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
STAMPS I
«*»*-'»Jl»CTiJV»mj*.»J.» :m*P*OK»lOB»JB»J*J«J>m3i-»jimtlM^;
colli-cturj. and the Editor will be pleased to aDswer fluy question on
these subjects so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor
Sutmp Department.
T1HE STAMP EDITOR wauts to make this
coltiinu as interestiug and as useful as
possible to all the boys and girls \vlio collect
stamps. Is there any subject on which you
would like to have information? Shall we
talk about the United States stamps? Or
about the great rarities which are so eagerly
sought by the advanced collectors that they
art.- willing to pay from $100 to $-2.")OU each
for these interesting lit.tle bits of paper?
Or about the different stamps issued in the
Oonl'rdrratr Siaifs during the great civil
war .' Or about the different water-marks,
perforations, papers, etc., which will make
two stamps which "look just alike" worth in
the one case two cents and in the other s.Mi .'
Or about auctions of rare stamps ? Or any
other subject? Let us hear from you, boys
and girls. This is your column, and it shall
be made as interesting as possible. Do you
keep the back numbers, so that you can refer
to them? If you do, it will be possible to
auswerfully some ijui'stions which are asked
frequently by simply referring to some other
n In-r in (In- current volume.
SEVEHAL COLLBCTOI;.-- ASK lioxv to distin-
guish the provisional stamps used in IVru
during the war in 1661-b:! between Chili
and Peru. Counting all the different types
of each stamp, there are over one hundred
in all, and their enumeration in the stand-
ard stamp catalogues covers three or four
pages. Collectors who make a specialty of
Peruvian stamps make the number much
larger. In general, these stamps are simply
the regular Peruvian issue of 1874-79 with
different surcharges. The victorious Chil-
ians printed their coat of arms on these
stamps — sometimes alone, and at other times
the arms and a band in a horseshoe frame,
with the words " Union Postal Universal —
Peru." The Peruvians used the same horse-
shoe baud as a surcharge, but without the
Chilian arms. Another Peruvian surcharge
is the triangle with the word " Peru," and
above it a character intended to represent
the sun. As almost all these surcharges
were printed by a hand-stamp, they are ea-
sily counterfeited, and collectors should be
careful to buy these stamps from responsi-
ble dealers only.
Gii.itKitT JACKSON. — There are five varieties of the
$5 United States Internal Revenue stamps' first issue.
The perforated ones are worth from two cents to
thirty-five cents each. There are eleven fl stamps of
the same issue, worth from one cent to $2 50 each.
Twelve varieties of the fifty-cent stamp, worth from
one cent to $1 each.
J. R. P. — The 1815 reprints of 1809 are on very white
paper. The 2c. of this issue is worth $3. Many of
the 1S69 issue show little or nothing of the grille.
Tlie Cape of Good Hope are quoted in the catalogue
mentioned by you. The drawing enclosed by you is
of a German local which has no value. The other
stamps are probably revenues, but your description is
imperfect.
Fr.iTz BP.ANTIT.— The United States envelope which
you describe in the official service envelope of the
Post-office Department. It is a franked, not a stamp-
ed, envelope. It is not generally collected.
PHILATUS.
IVORY SOAP
IT FLOATS
To retain the brilliancy of Ginghams, wash them only in luke
warm water, in which a tablespoonful of salt and an equal quantity of
Ivory Soap to each gallon of water, have been dissolved. Dry in the
shade.
THE PROCTER & GAMBLE Co., OINTI.
You Can't
'take too much of
HIRES'!
Rootbeerj
It quenches your thirst ^
That's the best of it. I
Improves your health
KOMBI
That's the rest of it.
A 25 cent package makes 5 gallons. Sold every-
where. Made only by The Chiu.E.IUrea Co., Phi la.
§••••••••••••••••••••«
la. j
•••
BASE BALL, HOWTO
A went Book, contains all t
, PLAY IT.
A went Book, contains all the rules; also
the secret of pitching curved balls, and to
bat successful )v. Rules for Football and Ten-
nis. Every pfayer should have it. Entirely
newand handsomely illustrated. This Great
Book. Kree to any one Bending us 1O
cents to pay postage. Also Catalogue Guns,
".levolvers Musical Instruments, Magic Tricks.
\ II for lOc. Order quick. ^ For
SI- 2.1 we «ill send Our JftiiNC Hall
Outfit, i-niiMstiiiL' of 9 Caps, 9 Belts, f Ball,
IBat. BATESSPORTING CO., 1OO High St., Boston, Mass.
Carry in pocket. Takes 25 perfect pictures
in <>M.' loadint,'— re-loading costs 20c. Ask I
y.iur .I.-;, Inr for it. or send for free booklet I
"All Ahout theKombi."
ALFRED C. KEMPER,
Branches: London, Berlin. 132-134 Lake Street, Chicago
"CARDPRlKTERIliEg
Seta an j name in one minute; |-.rinta SOU osrda an
pretty typo, also Indelible Ink. Tvpe Holder. Pads
and Tfceeiers. Rest Linen Marker: worth gl UO.
Sample mailed FREE for IOc. stamps for postage OH
outfit ami lara;e catalogue ofliHiO Bargains.
it.H. Im-rrsnll A. Ifr.i. G&Cortlandt St.N.T. Cltj
BONDER CABHTET FREE. Miagini
*iitile, Devil's Bottle. Pocket Camera,
Piitile, Devil's Bottle, Pocket Camera, Latest
j. Spook Photos, Book of Sleight of
Hand, Tout Value UOc. Sent free with immenfft
eatnloCTie of 1000 Bargains for We, forpo9tai>0.
— INr.ERSOLLiBRO.. iJ5Cortlnn.lt Street N. T.
DEAF
NESS & HEAD NOISES CURED
y INVISIBLE Tuiuiiar Oihliioiis. Have helped
ond
flees corubined. "Whispers nkMilcl. Help ears as glasses
F.lllscox, 858 B'dway,N.T. Book of proofs FREE
do eyes. ;
livi.- Imli;in pottery vessels,
lil.'inkcT^, *:;.IM); volcnnic
c. AV. uu;<;s,
Trkorl alive. Sl.OOjhorse-liaii1 Inr-
1 UdU, j.ir i,l(lian ma
$3.00;
2. 'Hi; N;i\;iii><> IniHut,
chips, 15r., all prepnid.
N. M.
NEW BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
By MRS. SANGSTER.
Little Knights and Ladies. Verses
for Young People. By MARGARET E.
SANGSTER, Author of " On the Road
Home," etc. Illustrated. i6mo,
Cloth, Ornamental, Uncut Edges and
Gilt Top, $i 25.
Healthful, natural, and just the simple nar-
rative poems and kindly temperate effusions
most pleasing to children. — Philadelphia Press.
The real poetry of child-life. — Boston Ad-
vertiser.
Characterized by womanly feeling — by obser-
vation of and sympathy with the child side of
domestic life. — N. Y. Mail and Express.
By W. J. HENDERSON.
Afloat with the Flag. By W. J.
HENDERSON, Author of " Sea Yarns
for Boys," etc. Illustrated. Post
Svo, Cloth, Ornamental, $r 25.
A good healthy story, attractively written,
full of stirring incident and adventure. — ^ . 1 .
Times.
W. J. Henderson sustains the reputation
which he has achieved for meritorious work by
his latest juvenile book. . . . This volume of
adventure, battle, heroic endeavor, and thrill-
ing struggle on sea and land is a most capti-
vating story told in the luminous and trenchant
style which characterizes this author's work.
—Philadelphia, fn-ss.
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.
For sale by all booksellers, or will be mailed bv the p
of the price.
663
.v .
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
FKEDDY (fire years old). "Boys,
keep away from me."
CHORUS. " Why, what's the mat-
ter ?"
FREDDY. "The teacher said I
was sharp to-day, and you might
set cut,"
MOTHER. "Frank, what is baby
crying about ?"
FRANK. " I guess because I took
his cake and showed him how to
eat it."
"NOW I KNOW PUSSY ATE UP MY GOLDFISH, FOR YOU OAN BEE THE BONES STICKING OUT
OF UKli OUKKK8. "
A QUESTION OF PEDIGREE.
"Now who is that ?" asked a dignified hen;
"That chicken in white aud gray?
.She's very well dressed, but from whence did she come ?
And her family, who are they?"
" She never can move in our set, my dear,"
Said the old hen's friend to her, later;
"I've just found out — you'll bo shocked to hear —
She iron /(«/(•/«•</ in mi incubator!"
THERE is a story going the rounds
of the British press about two very
distinguished archaeologists — Sir
William Wilde and Dr. Donovan.
It seems that these two gentlemen
made an excursion to the Isles of
Arran, where interesting remains of
archaeological nature have been
found.
They came across a little rough
stone building, aud both entered
into a fierce argument as to the ex-
act century of its erection. Final-
ly each claimed a date, one giving
it the sixth century, aud the other a
later one.
A native who had listened with
gaping mouth and ears to the
lengthy aud learned terms used by
the disputants, broke into the con-
versation with the remark, " Faix, you're both wrong as far
as that little bnildin' is consumed; it was built just two
years ago by Tint Doolau for his jackass."
PATRICK, in answer to an advertisement fora coachman,
applied for the position. He was one of three applicants,
and patiently waited until his turn arrived to offer his ser-
vices. The gentleman who wanted the coachman loved a
joke, and when the first applicant had answered a few of
his questions, he finally asked him,
"How near to the edge of a precipice would you under-
take to drive ruy carriage ?"
" Your Honor, I'd come within a foot of it."
The same question was put to the second applicant, who
replied,
•• I'll drive within three inches of it all the way, aud never
slip a wheel."
Patrick was then asked what he would do. "Faith, your
Honor, I'd kape as far away from the idge as possible." Pat-
rick was engaged.
A higliwnyman grim— here's a picture ol him —
A traveller ouce did waylay,
KVKUY hoy and girl has doubtless heard of the great
composer Handel. Here is a little story told of him and of
Dr. '. Maurice Green, a musician whose compositions were
urMT remarkably line. It seems he had sent a solo an-
them tn Handel for bis opinion, and Handel invited him to
Like breakfast, and In- \\onM say what he thought of it.
After coffer, Green's patience became exhausted, aud he said,
•• Well, sir, what did you think of it ?"
" Ob, your anthem ! Ah, I did t'ink dat it wanted air."
" Air!" cried Green.
•• Yes, air : and so I did bain; it out of de vindow,1' replied
Handel.
But his pistols were rusted ; he fired : they busted.
"JAMES, "asked the school-teacher, "what do you do \\iih
your odd moments after school .'"
"I waits until they adds up into an hour, and then I
goes fishin'."
Ami the traveller went on his way.
THE HIGHWAYMAN AND THE TRAVELLER.
6G4
HARPERS
\W3
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1S95, by HARPKK & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
F U BL1SHED W EEKLV.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 818.
NEW YOEK, TUESDAY, JULY 2. 1895
FIVE CENTS A COPY
TWO DOLLARS A TEAI
A MISPLACED "FOURTH."
BY JAMES BARNES.
THE male population of MitUHetoii, Ohio, in the early
summer of 186— appeared to consist altogether of old
men and boys. True, a few young men, most of them
dressed in blue coats with brass buttons, were to be seen on
the streets, but nearly all of them carried their arms in
slings, and one tall lad of twenty, who had once been the
"best runner in the village, hobbled along on crutches, with
an empty trouser leg pinned up at the knee.
One bright morning three Middleton boys were sitting
astride the top rail of a zigzag fence that ran along a liill-
side at the edge of a thicket of underbrush. A long Ken-
tucky ride lay across a near-by log. One of the boys lirld
in his hand a glass bottle stopped with a bit of rag. An-
other had on a leather belt with " U.S. "on the brass plate.
— upside down. The third boy was digging at the rail with
a dull jackkuife.
"I came near to running away and goiu'as a drummer-
boy," said the youngster with the. belt, "but they wouldn't
take me on account of my age. I'll be old enough this fall."
he added. •• Then you'll see."
" Your mother wouldn't let you go, Skinny," said the boy
with the bottle. " She told Grandad that two was enough."
" Father 'd let me go if lie wani't with Sherman," said
Skinny, "and brother Bill said I drummed good enough."
•• My father wants me to stay home and look after ma,"
the second boy sighed. There had been no news of his fa-
ther for six mouths, now.
"I've got a letter from Alfred, written jes before he was
taken prisoner, I guess," said the third boy, closing his
knife. He drew out of his pocket an envelope with the
picture of an American flag on it.
"Go on and read it to us, "said the oldest boy, wriggling
himself up closer. And Hosmer Curtis began — following
the words with his thumb:
" CUU.UMS'S LANDING.
"DEAR BROTIIKI:, — I wish I was to home to-night, with
you all sitting in the kitchen, and mother reading to us the
way she used to, rather than being here. I am writing
this by moonlight mostly, as it is getting late. We have.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
I. .1.1 a bin light all day. but drove the Uebs back across :i
crick into a s\\ ani[>, w lien- \vc raptured a lot of them stuck
in I lie mud. 1 am dreadful sorry to say that Tom Ditchard
was killed. Poor Tom! I suppose the home papers will tell
all a In Hi I it: he was shot lording the crick. 1 have his watch ;
he ga\e ii to me to bring back home. 1 hope I shall do SO.
'I'o mo) ni\v we will move westward to head nil' Morgan. I
guess : 1 hope we w on't march Car, tor in.v boots are all worn
out. and my left are sore. JJut I am well ; ]o\c to all, and
kiss motliei. 1 \\iote her two days ago.
"Your aflec brother. ALFKKII.
"P.S. — The Fourth of July will soon be hen:. I suppose
you will have uo tire works, though perhaps KT shall. Good-
by."
"I don't kuow as I'd like to be a soldier," said the ho\
with the gunpowder bottle — he was also the proud pos-
sessor of the loug rifle. •• 'Tisn't so much fun, I guess. Think
so, Skinny?"
"You're a 'fraid-eat,'' returned The buy with the belt.
"That's what yon are. Will Tex is."
The other flushed, but said nothing; he was by far the
smallest of the three.
"How do you know Alfred was captured ?" said the thin
one, after a silence of a minute.
"He was on the missing list — that's all we kuow, "said
Hosujer, putting the letter hack into his pocket.
"It will be the Fourth in two days, now ," remarked
Skinny, as if to change the subject. "But I hain't heard
any talk about any celebration.''
"Let's have one all to ourselves," suggested Hosmer.
"What with .'"asked the smallest boy. "I guess this is
all the gunpowder there is in town." He held up the bottle.
" 'Tain't more'n three charges, any how;" he added.
" I kuow where there's all the powder you want to look
a I. "said the thin warrior, who jumped suddenly down from
the feuce. "Oh! and I say, you know the two old iron
cannon — if we could only get them out — hey ?"
" They're locked up in the engine-house," rejoined Master
Tevis.
"What's the matter with au anvil ? It makes a lot of
noise," suggested Hosmer. " Where do you get the powder,
Skiuuy ?"
" Skinny," whose real name was Ambrose F. Skinner, J tin.,
assumed a very mysterious air.
"Now, listen, and I'll tell you," he said. " You remember
when they had that smash up on the railroad last week —
don't yon "'
"You menu the train going South to the army ?" asked
Hosmer.
"Yep, that's it. Happened last Thursday." responded
Ambrose, growing excited. "Well! they ran twobangcd-
U)) cars back on the siding above the. river-bridge, aud left
'em. 1 guess they forgot, p'r'aps. Hut the worst-busted
car is loaded with powder. I -aw the barrels: one of them
had a big hole in it. I say, come along, I'll show vou.
'Tain't far."
"Come on ; let's!" was the united answer. The two lis-
teners jumped to the ground, and Master Tevis picked up
the rifle. Then the three struck off across the hill, aud
walked along a path through the thicket of scrub-oak.
In a few minutes the boys were standing beside two
heavy freight-cars on a crooked timber su itch. The end
of one had been broken in as if by a collision, and the
trucks of both were injured.
Skiuny climbed into the wrecked car, and lifted the end
of a tarpauling that co\ered some-barrels.
"There you are," he said, triumphantly. "All the powder
you want — uutt'to blow up the town."
"I dou't suppose they'll let 'em stay here very loug, "said
Hosmer.
"But they can't send them South on the road now, "re-
marked Tevis. "The big bridge is down ten miles below
— heard tell of it last night. They will have to go back
tlie other way; uot a train's been through for forty
hours."
Tevis's grandfather was the station-agent at Middletoii,
and he spoke with au air of certain knowledge.
"Come, hand up your bottle and we w ill hll her up," said
Skinner, extending his hand.
Will Te\ is paused. "I say, fellows," he said, " I don't
think it, would be right. Do you, Hosmerf"
"A bottleful would never be missed," interposed Skinny.
•'There's more'n that spilled here on the floor. We iimxl
celebrate the Fourth. Why not, boys ? Eh!"
It was evident that. Master Skinner's intentions were
liable to change', however, and that some scruples were
arising even in his miud, for he said, testily,
" You're a 'fraid-cat , Will Tevis."
The latter put down the rifle. "If you say that again,
Ambrose Skinner. I'll light you," he said.
" Oh, come, don't talk like that, "said Hosmer, quietly.
"Will is right. Skinny ; we oughtn't to touch the powder.
It belongs to I'nele Sam."
"He would not miss a handful," said Skinny, shame-
facedly. Then he added,"! guess von «/r right, though,
come to think. Let's go back to the village; it's most four
o'clock."
The boys walked down the grade. A mile away was a
wooden box-bridge with a carriageway on one side aud
the single track on the other. It spanned a deep and
swiftly running stream that opened into the Ohio River a
few leagues below. It was here the accident had taken
place.
As they caiue into the village street they saw that a
crowd had collected around the post-office.
"News from the front!" shouted Tevis, in the familial-
words they had so often heard ; aud the trio started for-
ward on a run.
On the outside of the post-office shutters was a big pla-
card drawn hastily up in red ink:
THE KE13ELS AKE IN OHIO !
GUNK UAL MOliGAX CHOSSES T11K lUVKli!
GREAT ALAK.M ! TWO BATTLES FOUGHT!
These words stared them iu the face. The news had
come by telegram from Turkeyville ; but soon after the line
had ceased to work, and uo particulars could be obtained.
It was late that night when the boys went to bed. The
morrow was to lie an eventful oue for Middleton, and there
was a feeling of uneasiness ill the air.
The next day was the 3d of July.
Will Tevis was awakeued by a tremeudous clangor of
bells.
"Fire!" shouted Will, making one dive from the bed to
the window.
He opened the shutters with a crash; but not a sigu of
smoke w as there to be seen. What could it mean ?
"Sounds like the Fourth," he said, leaning over the sill
aud craning his neck to right aud left.
The Tevis house was far up the slope, on which the vil-
lage stood, and Will could look dowu one of the long-
streets. He saw people ruuuiug from the houses ami
heading for the Court-house square.
He hurried on his clothes, jumped down the back stairs,
and rushed to the street, joining his grandfather on the
way. At the gate as they turned into the dusty road they
met Ambrose Skinner.
" Heard the news ?" he yelled, as he approached.
" What is it ? Has any oue surrendered .*" asked old Mr.
Tevis. breathlessly.
" No !" shouted Skinny, at the top of his lungs, although
he was quite near. "The Eebels are coming! I'm off to
summon Judge Black. They're going to hold a meeting at
the Court-house." Ou he ran.
Grandfather Tevis surprised himself, for in his excite-
ment he had struck into a long swinging gait that com-
pelled Will to his best efl'orts to keep up.
At the square all was coufusiou. The Middletou " Home
Guards "were there, forty-eight in number, composed most-
ly of uieu who were too old for service. There was not a
leader among them.
Mr. Tevis forced his way iuto a room ou the grouud-
floor of the Court-house. Somebody held up his hand to
enjoin silence.
"They are receiving a telegram from Dresden down the
060
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
ri\i r." whispered a short, pale-faced mail, in Mr. 'IV vis's
ear.
There was a single win- connecting Middleton with
Dresden, twenty-one miles tn tin- westward. The nervous
<i]irratur was translating' the dots and dashes into words.
"The-rebels-are-in-fiill - sight. - now - entering- the- town.
The -home -guards- ha ve-run-away." Then there "as ;t
pause. " The - rebels-are-breakiug-iuto-the-stores. They-
kavi'-not-come-to-t he-rail way-station-yet."
" He is a brave man to stick to his post so," said Mr.
Tevis, out loiul.
" Hush," said the pale-faced man ; " here he comes again."
•• Tick-a-tick," began the instrument. " A-battery-of-
artillery-is-with-them. They-are-here-at-the-statiou. I —
The instrument stopped suddenly.
" Something has happened, ''said the operator,breathlessly.
" Call him up," said some one.
"He does not answer." said the operator, after a feu-
minutes. But as he spoke a slow ticking came from the
receiver.
'• Hello!" it spelled, laboriously.
"That isn't Jed Worth," said the operator. "Some one
else has got hold of the wire."
" Hold on ; ask who it is," said Mr. Tevis.
Then an idea came in Will Tevis' head, and he spoke up.
"Ask if it is Frank, "he said.
" What for?'7 inquired the operator, with his fingers on
the key.
"Because if they answer yi-s, you will know they are
trying to fool you," he said.
There was a murmur of approval.
"Is-that-you-Frauk .'" telegraphed the operator.
"Yes," came the unhesitating answer.
" Ask him if he has seen anything of the Rebs," suggested
Mr. Tevis.
'• No." was the response to this inquiry, '• not one."
" He's a pretty good liar," said the pale-faced man, half
to himself. The instrument began to work again.
"Are there any troops at Middleton," slowly asked the
Reb operator down the line.
An answer was clicked hack hastily.
"I told him that we had a regiment and two batteries
of artillery," whispered the young man at the desk, smiling.
"Why under the sun didn't you make it an army corps,"
said Mr. Tevis.
The operator tried again, but no answer came. Dresden
had switched off for good. A bustle and a cheer outside in
the square showed that something was going forward.
Judge Black had arrived. The Judge was a veteran of the
Mexican war; his age alone had prevented him from accept-
ing a commission in the army; but the village had a great
resprrt for his military knowledge. He was offered the
command of the forces by the Mayor; about four hundred
had gathered: but there were no more than seventy muskets,
with less than four rounds apiece. A search of the town shops
disclosed the fact that there Were but ten pounds of good
powder to be had. Now •' Skinny " came to the rescue with
the same words he had used ou the day before.
" I know where there's all the powder you want," he
said, and he told of the freight-car ou the siding. Despite
the broken truck it was brought down the grade to the
station, and two barrels were unloaded.
•' Why not blow up the bridge ?" suggested Will to his
grandfather in a whisper, which the Judge overheard.
" We may have to come to that," said the Judge, turning.
"We'll leave that to the last, though. Now we must
throw up iutreuchmeuts, and mount our two field-pieces.
What's in those crates *"
" Uniforms, by jingo!" said a man inside the car.
" Get them out," said the Judge ; " our forces must be uni-
formed. Have those mounted scouts been sent out .'" he
added.
" Yes, sir," said the Mayor ; " an hour ago."
In a short, time the slope below Middleton presented a
curious sight; four hundred men and boys dressed in new
uniforms with shining brass buttons were digging a long
trench that stretched from the railway track to a steep
bluff' on the east. The old iron guns were in a position to
command the bridge and the further bank. The freight-
ear with over two tons of gunpowder on board was anchored
firmly in the centre of the bridge.
One man was left at the bridge to fire the train of powdei
if the enemy advanced. About four o'clock a very respect-
able fortification had been made at the bottom of the hill,
aud the few guns were distributed along it. The little
army paused to rest. The women and children bad long'
ago been sent north across the hills. At half past four a
man on horseback thundered across the bridge ; he was
closely followed by two others.
"The Rebs are coming!" they shouted. "Thousands of
them."
In fact, almost at their heels rose a cloud of dust, and
two or three cavalrymen rode out on the bank of the river.
They appeared surprised at the line of earthworks, and the
blue coats that here and there showed plainly. In a few
minutes more the bank was lined with rebel horsemen.
"Why doesn't he light the fuse?" said the Commander-in-
chief, nervously looking toward the bridge.
As he spoke a man ran up the track from the bridge ; he
turned aud looked back two or three times as if expecting
something to happen. But nothing happened.
"It failed to go oft"," said the man, out of breath, as he
jumped into the trench.
The Judge scowled at him. "Let go that battery," he
said. " Commence firing."
At the first discharge one of the old cannons burst, Inckily
hurting no one, and the straggling volley that followed
only showed to the enemy the weakness of their opponents.
A rebel with a powerful field-glass had climbed a tree aud
taken in the situation. The enemy was preparing for au
advance. That was evident.
" Hang that fool!" said the Judge ; " if he'd kept his wits
about him, we'd be safe. I don't believe he waited to strike
a match. They could never ford the river."
But he or no one else had seen a figure in a uniform
much too big for his small body steal across the track and
crawl on all-fours down the embankment ou the further
side. AU at once they saw him emerge into sight and dive
into the shadow of the bridge. It was Will Tevis.
Just as the cavalry were preparing to charge, he came
into sight again, running swiftly down the middle of the
track. A faint smoke arose from the bridge entrance,
several shots were fired at him ; but on he came. The in-
treuchments now broke out into flame just as there came a
terrific roar, a bursting rending sound, and the bridge
disappeared. Will Tevis in the ill-fitting uniform was a
hero. The rebels were forced to keep the other side of the
swollen river, but exchanged shots for some time before
they drew away.
Coming up the hill late in the evening Hosnier and
Will met Skinny. " Where have you been?" they asked.
" Up in town looking for a drum," Skinny replied, flush-
ing. " Will, I 'pologize for calliu' you a 'fraid-cat."
The next day there was again no powder in the village ;
but Judge Black made a speech which began, "On this
glorious occasion."
"I wish we had some fireworks for to-night, "said Hos-
mer, after the old veteran had concluded.
"Never mind that, boys," said Grandfather Tevis, who
had overheard. "You boys had your Fourth yesterday."
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.*
BY K I K K M U N R O E.
C H A P T E 1! XXXV.
HOW JALAP COOMBS MADE POUT.
THE things ou which we are apt to set the highest value
in this world are those that we have lost, aud even our
friends are, as a rule, most highly appreciated after they
have been taken from us. Thus, in the present instance.
Phil and Serge had so sincerely mourned the loss of their
quaint hut loyal comrade, that his restoration to them alive
* Beguu iu UAKPEB'S YOUNG PEOPLE Nu. 30
667
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
and well, "hearty and hungry," as he himself expressed it,
filled them with unbounded joy. They hung about him,
and lovingly brushed the snow from his fur clothing, and
plied him with many questions.
Even Nel-te showed delight at the return of his big
playmate by cuddling up to him, and stroking his weather-
beaten cheeks, and confiding to him how very hungry he
•was.
" Me too, Cap'u Kid !" exclaimed Jalap Coombs ; " and I
must say you're a mighty tempting inossel to a man as nigh
starved as I be. Jest about boiling age, plump and tender.
Cap'u Kid, look out, for I'm mighty inclined to stow ye
away."
"Try this instead," laughed Phil, holding out a chunk of
frozen pemmicau that he had just chopped off. "We're in
the biggest kind of luck to-day," he continued. " I didn't
know there was a mouthful of anything to eat on this
sledge, and here I've just found about five pounds of pem-
micau. It does seem to me the very best pemmicau that
was ever put up, too, and I only wonder that we didn't eat
it long ago. I'm going to get my aunt Ruth to make me
a lot of it just as soon as ever I get home."
As they sat before the fire on a tree felled and stripped
of its branches for the purpose, and munched frozen poiu-
micau, and took turns iu sipping strong unsweetened tea
from the only cup now left to them, Jalap Coombs de-
scribed his thrilling experiences of the preceding night.
According to his story, one of his dogs gave out, and he
stopped to unharness it with the hope that it would still
have strength to follow the sledge. While he was thus
engaged the storm broke, the blinding rush of snow swept
over the mountains, and as he looked up he found to his
dismay that the other sledge was already lost to view. He
at once started to overtake it, urging ou the reluctant dogs
by every means in his power; but after a few minutes of
struggle against the furious gale, they lay down and re-
fused to move. After cutting their traces that they might
follow him if they chose, the man set forth alone, with
bowed and uncertain steps, ou a hopeless quest for his
comrades. He did not find them, as we know, though
once he heard a faint cry from off to one side. Heading iu
that direction, the uext thing he knew he had plunged
over the precipice, and found himself sliding, rolling, and
bounding downward with incredible velocity.
"The trip must have lasted an hour or more," said Jalap
Coombs, soberl3', iu describing it, "and when I finally
brung up all standing, I couldn't make out for quite a spell
•whether I were still ou top of the earth, or had gone
plumb through to the other side. I kuowed every rib and
timber of my framing were broke, and every plank start-
ed; but somehow I managed to keep my head above wa-
ter, and struck out for shore. I made port under a tree,
and went to sleep. When I woke at the end of the watch,
I found all hatches closed and battened down. So I were
jest turuiug over again when I heerd a hail, and knowrd
I were wanted on deck. And, boys, I've had happy mo-
ments iu my life, but I reckon the happiest of 'em all were
when I broke out and seen you two with the kid, standing
quiet and respectful, and heerd ye saying, 'Good-morning,
sir, aud hoping you've passed a quiet night,' like I were
a full-rigged cap'u."
"As you certainly deserve to be, Mr. Coombs," laughed
Phil, ''and as I believe you will be before long, for I don't
think we can be very far from salt water at this mo-
ment."
" It's beeu seeming to me that I could smell it !" exclaimed
the sailorrnau, eagerly sniffing the air as he spoke. "Aud,
ef you're agreeable, sir, I moves that we set sail for it at
once. My hull's pretty well battered and stove in, but top
works is solid, standing aud running rigging all right, aud
I reckon by steady pumping we can navigate the old craft
to port yet."
"All aboard, theu ! Up anchor, aud let's be oft'!" shouted
Phil, so excited at the prospect of a speedy termination to
their journey that he could not bear a moment's longer de-
lay iu attaining it.
So they set merrily and hopefully forth, and followed
the windings of the valley, keeping just beyond the forest
edge. In summer-time they would have found it filled with
impassable obstacles — huge bowlders, landslides, a network
of logs aud fallen trees, and a roaring torrent; but now it
was packed with snow to such an incredible depth that all
these things lay far beneath their feet and the way was
made easy.
By nightfall they had reached the mouth of the valley,
and saw, opening before them, one so much wider that it
reminded them of the broad expanse of the frozen Yukon.
The course of this new valley was almost north and south,
aud they felt certain that it must lead to the sea. In spite
of their anxiety to follow it, darkness compelled them to
seek a camping-place iu the timber. That evening they
ate all that remained of their pemmican, excepting a small
bit that was reserved for Nel-te's breakfast
They made up, as far as possible, for their lack of food
by building the most gorgeous camp-fire of the entire jour-
ney. They felled several green trees close together, aud
placed it ou them so that it should not melt its way down
out of sight through the deep snow. Then they felled dead
trees and cut them into logs. These, together with dead
branches, they piled up, until they had a structure forty
feet long by ten feet high. They set lire to it with the last
match in their possession, and as the flumes gathered head-
Way and roared aud leaped to the very tops of the sur-
rounding trees even Phil was obliged to acknowledge that
at last he was thoroughly and uncomfortably warm.
The following morning poor Jalap was so stiff and lame
that his face was contorted with pain when he attempted
to rise. " Never mind," he cried, cheerily, as he noted Phil's
anxious expression, " I'll fetch it. Just give me a few min-
utes' leeway."
And sure enough in a few minutes he was on his feet
rubbing his legs, stretching his arms, and twisting his
body "to limber up the j'ints." Although in a torment of
pain he soon declared himself ready for the day's tramp,
aud they set forth. Ere they had gone half a mile, how-
ever, it was evident that he could walk uo further. The
pain of the ett'ort was too great even for his sturdy deter-
mination, aud, when he finally sank down with a groan,
the boys helped him on the sledge, and attached themselves
to its pulliug-bar with long thongs of rawhide.
The two stalwart young fellows, together with three dogs
made a strong team, but the snow was so soft, aud their
load so heavy, that by noon they had not made more than
ten miles. They had, however, reached the end of their
second valley, aud came upon a most extraordinary scene.
As far as the eye, could reach ou either side, stretched a vast
plain of frozen whiteness. On its further border, directly
iu front of them, but some ten miles away, rose a chain of
mountains bisected by a deep wide cut like a gateway.
" It must be an arm of the sea, frozen over aud covered
with snow," said Phil.
" But," objected Serge, " on this coast no such body of
salt water stays frozeu so late in the season ; for we are
well into April now, you know."
"Theu it is a great lake."
"I never heard of any lake ou this side of the moun-
tains."
"I don't reckon it's the sea; but salt water's mighty
nigh," said Jalap Coouibs, sniffing the air as eagerly as a
hound on the scent of game.
" Whatever it is, "said Phil, " we've got to cross it, and I
am going to head straight for that opening."
So they again bent to their traces, and a few hours later
had crossed the great white plain, and were skirting the
base of a mountaiu that rose on their left. Its splintered
crags showed the dull red of iron rust wherever they were
bare of snow, and only thin fringes of snow were to be seeu
in its more sheltered gorges.
Suddenly Phil halted, his face paled, and his lips quiver-
ed with emotion. "The sea !" he gasped. "Over there,
Serge !"
Jalap Coombs caught the words, aud was ou his feet in
an instant, all his paiu forgotten iu a desire to ouce more
catch a glimpse of his beloved salt water.
'• Yes," replied Serge, after a loug look. " It certainly is
a narrow bay. How I wish we knew what one ! But, Phil !
668
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
what is that, down there
near the foot of the elift's?
Is it — can it be — a house ?"
"Where?" cried Phil.
"Yes, I see! I do believe
it is! Yes, it certainly is a
house."
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE MOST FAMOUS ALASKAN
GLACIER.
THAT little house nest-
ling at tlie base of a pre-
cipitous mountain, and
still nearly a mile away,
was just then a more fas-
cinating sight to our half-
starved, toil-worn travel-
lers than even the sea it-
self, and tilled with a hope-
ful excitement they has-
tened toward it. It was
probably a salmon cannery
or saltery, or a trading-
post. At any rate the one
house they had discovered
was that of a white man ;
for it had a chimney, and
none of the Tlingits or
natives of southern Alaska
build chimneys.
While Phil and Jalap
Coombs were full of con-
fidence that a few minutes
more would find them in
a settlement of white men,
Serge was greatly puzzled,
and, though he said little,
kept up a deal of think-
ing as he tugged at the
rawhide sledge-trace. He
felt that he ought to know
the place, for he did not be-
lieve they were one hun-
dred miles from Sitka; but he could not remember having
heard of any white settlement on that part of the coast,
except at the Chilkat cannery, and this place did not cor-
respond in any particular with what he had heard of
that.
At length they rounded the last low spur of the ridge,
and came upon the house only a few rods away. For a few
moments they stood motionless, regarding it in silence, and
•with a bitter disappointment. It was roughly but sub-
stantially constructed of sawed lumber, had a shingled roof,
two glass windows, a heavy door, and a great outside chim-
ney of rough stone. But it was closed and deserted. No
hospitable smoke curled from its chimney, there was no
voice of welcome nor sign of human presence. Nor was
there another building of any kind in sight.
" I suppose we may as well keep on and examine the in-
terior, now that we've come so far," said Phil, in a disgusted
tone that readily betrayed his feelings. "There doesn't
seem to be any one around to prevent us. I only wish there
was."
So they pushed open the door, which was fastened but
not locked, and stepped inside. The cabin contained but
a single large room furnished with several sleeping bunks,
a stout table, and a number of seats, all home-made from
uuplaned lumber. Much rubbish, including empty bottles
and tin cans, was scattered about; but it was evident that
everything of value liad been removed by the last occu-
pants. The chief feature of the room was an immense and
rudely artistic fire-place at its farther end. Above this
hung a smooth board skilfully decorated with charcoal
sketches, and bearing the legend " Camp Muir."
As Serge caught sight of this he uttered an exclamation.
"Now I know where we are!" he cried. "Come with me,
SEKGE'S METHOD OF LIGHTING A FIKE.
Phil, and I will show you one of the grand sights of the
world."
With this he dashed out of the door, and ran toward the
beach ridge behind which the cabin stood. Phil followed,
wondering curiously what his friend could mean. As they
reached the low crest of the ridge he understood ; for out-
spread before him, bathed in a rosy light by the setting
sun, was a spectacle that tourists travel from all parts of
the world to gaze upon.
A precipitous Hue of ice cliffs of marble whiteness or
heavenly bine, two miles long and hundreds of feet in
height, carved into spires, pinnacles, minarets, and a thou-
sand other fantastic shapes, rose in frozen majesty at the
head of a little bay whose waters washed the beach at their
feet. Ere either of the boys could find words to express
his delight and wonder, a huge mass of the lofty wall
broke away and plunged into the sea, with a thunderous
roar that echoed and re-echoed from the enclosing moun-
tains. For a moment it disappeared in a milky cloud of
foaru and spray. Then it shot up from the depths like
some stupendous submarine monster, and with torrents of
wati-r streaming from it in glittering cascades, floated ou
the heaving surface a new-born iceberg.
" It must be a glacier," said Phil, in an awe-stricken tone.
"It is a glacier," answered Serge, triumphantly, "and
one of the most famous in the world, for it is the Mnu,
which is larger and contains more ice than all the eleven
hundred glaciers of Switzerland put together. That cabin
is the one occupied by John Muir and his companions
when they explored it in isiln. To think that we should
have come down one of its branches, and even crossed the
great glacier itself without knowing what it was! I be-
litjvc we would have known it, though, it' the suow hadn't
fitifl
HARPER'S EOUND TABLE
lieen so deep ;is to alter tin- whole character of its sur-
face "
'• If tliis is the Muir Glacier," reflected Phil, "I don't see
lint \vli:il we jiri1 in a liox. We must be to tile westward
ofChilkat."
''Yes," said Serge. "It lies to the eastward of those
mountains."
"Which don't look as though they would he very easy
• •yen for us to climb, while I know we couldn't get Jalap
and N'cl-te over them. I don't suppose any tourist steamers
will he visiting this place for some time, either."
"Not for two months at least," replied Srr.ni'.
" Which is longer than we can afford to wait without
provisions or supplies of auy kind. So we shall have to
get away, somehow, and pretty quickly too. It doesn't
look as though we could follow the coast any further,
though; for just below here the cliffs seem to rise sheer
from the water."
"No," said Serge, " we can't. We can only get out by
boat or by scaling the mountains."
" In which case we shall starve to death before we have
a chance to do either," retorted Phil, gloomily, " for we are
pretty nearly starved now. In fact, old man, it looks as
tl gli the good fortune that has stood by us during the
whole of this journey had deserted us at its very end."
By this time the boys had strolled back to the cabin,
which was left by the setting sun in a dark shadow. As
they turned its corner they came upon Nel-te standing out-
side clapping his chubby hands, and gazing upward in an
ecstasy of delight. Following the child's glance Phil
uttered a startled exclamation, and sprang through the
doorway. A moment later he emerged, rifle in hand.
High up on a shoulder of the mountain, hundreds of feet
above the cabin, sharply ov'.lined against the sky, and
bathed in the full glory of the setting sun, a mountain-
goat, with immensely thick hair of snowy white, and sharp
black horns, stood as motionless as though carved from
marble. Blinded by the sunlight, and believing himself to
be surrounded by a solitude nutenanted by enemies, he
saw not the quietly moving figures in the dim shadows
beneath him.
Twice did Phil raise his rifle, and twice did he lower it,
so tremulous was he with excitement, and a knowledge
that four human lives depended on the result of his shot.
The third time he took a quick aim and tired. As tin re
port echoed sharply from the beetling cliffs, the stricken
animal gave a mighty lea]) straight out into space, and
ranie whirling downward like a great white bird with
broken wings. He struck twice, but bounded off each time,
and linally lay motionless, buried in the snow at the very
foot of the mountain that, had been his home.
" Seeing as how we hain't got no fire nor no matches I
reckon we'll eat our meat raw like the Huskies," said Jalap
Coombs, dryly, a little later, as they began to skin arid cut
up the goat.
"Whew!" ejaculated Phil. "I never thought of that,
lint I know how to make a tire with the powder from a
cartridge, if one of you can furnish a bit of cotton cloth."
" It seems a. pity to waste a cartridge," said Serge, " when
we haven't but three or four left, and a single one has just
done so much for us. I think I can get fire in a much more
economical way.''
"How?" queried Phil.
"Ye won't lind no brimstone nor yet feathers here," sug-
gested Jalap Coombs, with a shake of his head.
"Never mind, "laughed Serge; "you two keep on cutting
up the goat, and by the time your job is completed I think
I can promise that mine will be." So sa\ ing, Serge entered
the cabin and closed the door.
In a pile of rubbish he had noticed several small pieces
of wood, and a quantity of very dry botanical specimens,
some of which bore fluffy seed-vessels that could be used
as tinder. He selected a bit of soft pine, and worked a
hole in it with the point of his knife. Next he whittled
out a thick pencil of the hardest wood he could find, sharp-
ened one end and rounded the other. In a block of hard
wood he dug a cavity, into which the rounded top of the
pencil would tit. He fouuu a section 'of barrel hoop, and
strung it very loosely with a length of rawhide from a dog
harness, so as to make, a small IPOW. Finally he took a
turn of the bow-string about the pencil, fitted the point
into the soft pine that rested on tin- floor, and the other
end into the hard wood block on which lie leaned his
breast.
With one hand he now drew the bow swiftly to and fro.
causing the pencil to revolve with great rapidity, and with
the other he held a small quantity of tinder close to its
point of contact with the soft pine. The rapid movement
of the pencil produced a few grains of line sawdust, and
this shortly began to smoke with the heat of the friction.
In less than one minute the sawdust and tinder were in a.
glow that a breath fanned into a Hame, and there was no
longer any doubt about a fire.*
That, evening, as our friends sat contentedly in front of a
cheerful blaze, after a more satisfactory meal than thry had
enjoyed for many a day, Jalap Coombs remarked that he
only wanted one more thing to make him perfectly happy.
" Same here," said Phil. " What's your want ?"
"A pipeful of tobacco," replied the sailor, whose whole
smoking outfit had been lost with his sledge.
" All I want," laughed Phil, " is to know how and when
we are to get out of this trap and continue our journey to
Sitka. I hate the thought of spending a couple of months
here, even if there are plenty of goats."
"I can't think of anything else we can do," said Serge,
thoughtfully.
And yet those who were to rescue them from their per-
plexing situation were within five miles of them at that
very moment.
[TO BE COXTINfKD.]
OAKLEIGH.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS D E L A N D.
CHAPTE R II.
THEY were all in the "long parlor" after tea. It was
a beautiful room, extending the length of the house,
and it was large enough to contain four windows and two
fire-places. The paper on the walls was old-fashioned — in-
deed, it had been there when the children's grandmother
was a girl, and the furniture was of equally early date.
It was all handsome, but shabby-looking. A few dollars
wisely spent would have made a vast difference in its ap-
pearance; but, unfortunately, there were never any dollars
to spare.
Jack had resumed the argument. " Nonsense, nonsense,
Jack!" said Mr. Franklin. '-It is absurd for a boy like
you to ask me for so much money. Incubators are of no.
good, anyhow. Give me a good old-fashioned hen."
"Perhaps, papa, "said Cynthia, demurely, "Jack will give
you a good old-fashioned hen if you let him buy an incuba-
tor to raise her with."
Mr. Franklin laughed. Then lie grew very grave again.
"There's no doubt about my making something of it,"
persisted Jack. "I itixli \nu would let me try, father! I'll
pay back whatever you lend me. Indeed I will. It's only
forty dollars for the machine."
Mr. Franklin was very determined. He could seldom be
induced to change his mind, and his prejudices were \ erv
strong. Jack's face fell. It was of no use; he would have
to give it up.
Presently Aunt Betsey spoke. She had been an atten-
tive listener to the conversation, and now she settled her-
self anew in her rocking-chair, and folded her hands in the
way she always did when she had something of especial
importance to say.
"How much money do you need. Jackie ? Forty dollars,
did you say ?"
' Forty for the incubator." said Jack, rather shortly. He
felt like crying, though he «•«» a boy, and he wished Aunt
Betsey would not question him.
* This is the Eskimo method; and I have seen a Norton Sound Eskimo
woman obtain fire by this simple means inside o£ ten seconds.— K M.
oTO
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"Anil then yon must buy the eggs," put in Cynthia.
•' And what do the chicks live in after they come out?"
asked Miss Trinkett, who knew something about fanning,
and with all her eccentricities was very practical.
" They live in brooders," said Jack, warming to his he-
loved subject. "If I could buy one brooder for a pattern
I could make others like it. I'd have to fence off places fur
the chicks to run in, and that would take a little money.
I suppose I'll have to have fifty-five or sixty dollars to start
nicely with anil have things in good shape."
"Nephew Johu,"saiil Miss Betsey, solemnly, turning to
Mr. Franklin, "I don't wish to interfere between parent
and child, it's not my way ; but if you have no other ob-
jections to Jackie's hen-making machine — I forget its out-
landish name — I am willing, in fact I'd be very pleased, to
adrance him the money. What do you say to it?"
Jack sprang to his feet, and Cynthia enthusiastically
threw her arms about Aunt Betsey's neck.
"You dear thing!" she whispered. "And yon look sweet
in your new hair." Upon which Miss Trinkett smiled com-
placently.
Mr. Franklin expostulated at first, but he was finally per-
suaded to give his consent. So it was finally settled.
"I will leml you seventy-five dollars," said Miss Trin-
kett. "You maybe obliged to pay more than you think,
and it's well to have a little on hand in case of emergencies."
The next day Miss Trinkett took an affectionate farewell
from her nieces and nephews, promising to send Jack the
money by an early date.
"And a book on raising poultry that my father used ti>
cousult," she added; "I always keep it on the table in the
best parlor. I'll send it by mail. It's wonderful what
things can go through the post-office nowadays. These are
times to live in, I do declare, what with chicks without a
mother and everything else."
Aunt Betsey was true to her word. During the follow-
ing week a package arrived most lightly tied up, and ad-
dressed in an old-fashioned, indefinite hand to "Jackie
Franklin, Brenton, Mass." Within was an ancient book
which described the methods of raising poultry in the early
days of the century, and inside of the book were seventy-
five dollars in crisp new bank-notes.
It was a week or two after the installation of the. incu-
bator that Edith was seized with what Cynthia called "one
of her terribly tidy fits."
"I am going to do some Louse-clean ing," she announced
one beautiful Saturday morning, when Cynthia was hurry-
ing through her Monday's lessons in a wild desire to get to
the river. "Cynthia, you must help me. We'll clear out
all the drawers and closets in the ' north room,' and give
away everything we don't need, and then have Martha
clean the room."
"Oh no!" exclaimed Cynthia ; '-everything in this house
is as neat as a pin. And we haven't got anything we don't
need, Kdith. And I can't. I niiixt go on the river.'7
"You can go afterwards. You can spend all the after-
noon on the river. This is a splendid chance for house-
cleaning, with the children otf for the morning. Come
along, Cynthia — there's a dear."
Cynthia slowly anil mournfully followed Edith up the
stairs. She might have held out and gone on the river,
but she knew Edith would do it alone if she deserted her,
and Cynthia was unselfish, much as she detested house-
cleaning.
"I am going to be very particular to-day," said Edith, as
she wiped the ornaments of the room with her dusting-cloth
and laid them on the bed to be covered, and took down some
of the pictures.
"More particular than usual?"
" Yes, ever so much. I've been thinking about it a great
deal. In all probability I shall always keep house for papa,
and I mean to lie the very best kind of a house-keeper. I
am going to make a study of it. The house shall always be
as neat as it can possibly be, and the meals shall be per-
fect. Then another thing," pursued Kdith, from the closel
where she, was lifting down boxes and pulling out drawers.
"I am going to be lovely with the children. They are to
be taught to obey me implicitly, the very minute I speak.
I am going to train them that way. I shall say one word,
very gently, and that will be enough. I have been reading
a book oil that very subject. The eldest sister made up
her mind to do that, and it worked splendidly."
"I hope it will this time, hut things arc so much easier
in a book than out of it. Perhaps the children were not
just like our Janet and Willy."
"They were a great, deal worse. Our children are per-
fect angels compared to them."
"Here they come now, speaking of angels," announced
Cynthia, as the tramp of small but determined feet was
heard on the stairs and the door burst open.
"Dear me, you don't mean to say you are back !" ex-
claimed Edith. ''I thought you were going to play out-of-
doors all the morning-"
"We're tired of it, and we're terrible hungry.''
"An" we want sumpun to do."
"If this isn't the most provoking thing !" cried Edith,
wrathfnlly, emerging from the closet. " I thought yon were
well out of the way, and here I am in the midst of house-
cleaning! You are the most provoking children — don't
touch that !''
For Janet had seized upon a box and was investigating
its contents.
"Go straight out of this room, and don't come near me
till it is done."
" We won't go!" they roared in chorus; " we're going to
stay and have sr.nie fun."
Edith walked tip to them with determination written on
her face, and grasped each child tightly by the hand. The
roars increased, and Cynthia concluded that it was about
time to interfere.
" Come down-stairs with me," she said, " and I'll give you
some nice crackers. And very soon one of the men is going
over to Pelhani to take the farm-horses to be shod. Who
would like to go?"
This idea \\ as sei/.ed upon with avidity. The three de-
parted in search of the crackers, and quiet reigned once
more. When Cynthia came back Edith said nothing for
a few minutes. Then she remarked :
"Those children in the book were \\otquitr as provoking
as ours, but I suppose I ought to have begun right away to
be gentle. Somehow, Cynthia, you always seem to know
just what to say to everybody. I ii'inlt 1 did! Janet and
Willy both mind you a great deal better than they do me."
She was interrupted by a shout of joy from Cynthia.
"Edith, Edith, do look at this! Aunt Betsey's extra false
front! She left it behind. Don't you know she told me
to put it away ? It's a wonder she hasn't sent for it. There,
look!"
Edith turned with a brush in one hand and a dust-pan
in tlu other, which dropped with a clatter when she saw
her sister.
Cynthia had drawn back her own curly bang, and fast-
ened on the smooth brown hair of her great-aunt. The
puffs adorned either side of her rosy face, a-nd she was for
all the world exactly like Miss Betsey Trinkett, whose eyes
were as blue and nose as straight as those of fourteen-year-
old Cynthia, who was always said to greatly resemble her.
"You're the very image of her," laughed Edith. •• Xo
one would ever know you apart, if yon had on a bonnet and
shawl like hers."
" Edith," exclaimed Cynthia,"! have an idea! I'm go-
ing to dress up and make Jack think Aunt Betsey has
come back. He'll never know me in the world, and it will
be such fun to get a rise out of him."
Cynthia's enthusiasm was contagions, and Edith, leaving
bureau drawers standing open and boxes uncovered, hur-
ried off to find the desired articles.
Cynthia was soon dressed in exact reproduction of Aunt
I!etse\'s usual costume, with a figured black-lace veil over
her face, and, as luck would have it, Jack was at that mo-
ment seen coming up the drive. She hastily descended to
the parlor, where she and Edith were discovered in conver-
sation when Jack entered the house.
"Holloa, Aunt Betsey!" he exclaimed, as he kissed her
unsuspectingly. " Have you conic- hack?"
"Yes, Jackie," said a prim New England voice with a
671
MISS TRINKET!' TOOK AN AFFECTIONATE FAREWELL THE NEXT DAY.
slightly provincial accent. "I thought I'd like to heal-
about those little orphan chicks, ami .so I said to Silas, said
I, Silas-
Edith darted from her chair to a distant window, arid
Cynthia was obliged to break oft' abruptly, or she would
have laughed aloud. Jack, however, took no notice. The
mention of the chickens was enough for him.
"Don't you want to conie down and see the machine?
I .say. Aunt Betsey, you were a regular brick to send me
the money. Did you get my letter .'"
" Yes, Jackie, and I hope yon are reading the book care-
fully. You will learn a great deal from it about hens."
'•Yes. Well, I haven't got any hens yet. Look out. for
these stairs, Aunt Betsey. They're rather dangerous."
This was too much for Cynthia. To be warned alM.nl
the cellar stairs, over which she gayly tripped at least a
dozen times a day, was the crowning joke of the per-
formance. She sat dowu on the lowest step and shouted
with laughter. Jack, who was studying his thermometer,
turned in surprise.
It was too good. Cynthia tossed up her veil, and turned
hrr crimson face to her brother.
"Oh, Jack, Jack, I have you this time! Oh. oh, oh! I
nc ver dreamt-d you would be so taken iu !" And she danced
up and down with glee.
Jack's first feeling was one of anger. How stupid hr
had been ! Then his sense of the ludicrous overcame him,
and he joined iu the mirth, laughing until the tears rolled
down his face.
" It's too good to be wasted," he said, as soon as he could
speak. "Why don't you go and see somebody? Go to
those dear friends of Aunt Betsey's, the Parkers."
"I will, I will!" cried Cynthia. "I'll go right away
uow. Jack, you cau drive me there."
" Oh uo!" exclaimed Edith. "They would be. sure to
find you out, aud it would be all over town. You sha'u't
do it,' Cynthia."
" They'll never find me out. If Jack, my own twin bro-
ther, didn't, I'm sure they wouldn't. I'm going! Hurry
up. Jack, and harness the horse."
.lack went up the stairs like lightning, and was oft' to the
barn. All Edith's pleadings and expostulations were iu
vain. Cynthia could be very determined when she pleased,
and this time she had made up her mind to pay uo atten-
tion to the too-cautious Edith.
She waved farewell to her sister iu exact imitatiou of
Aunt Betsey's gesture, and drove away by Jack's side in
the old buggy.
They drew up at the Parkers' door, and Jack polite-
ly assisted " Aunt Betsey " from the carriage. He ran up
the steps and rang the bell for her, aud then, taking his
place again iu the buggy, he drove oft' to a shady spot, and
waited for his supposed aunt to reappear.
" Don't be too long," he had whispered at partiug.
It seemed hours, but it was really only twenty minutes
later, when the frout door opened, and the quaint little
figure descended the steps amid voluhle good-byes.
"So glad to have seen you, my dear Miss Trinkett! I
never saw you looking so well or so young. You are a
marvel. And you won't repeat that little piece of news I
told you, will you? You will probably hear it all iu good
time. Good-by!"
It was a very quiet aud depressed Aunt Betsey who got
into the carriage and drove away with Jack, very differ-
ent from the gay little lady who had entered the Parkers'
gates.
" Well, was it a success ? Did she know you? Tell us
about it," said Jack, eagerly.
" Jack, don't ask me a word."
"Why? I say, what's up? What's the matter ? Did
she liud you out?"
"No, of course not. She never guessed it. But — but —
oh, Jack, she told me something."
•• lint what was it?"
"I — I dou't believe I cau tell you!"
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
672
THE KNAv'E OF HEARTS
a
JMav? in ©ne act.
BY. ALBERT LEE.
CHARACTERS:
QUEEN OF CLUBS. QUEEN op SPADES. KING OF SPADES. JOKER
QUEEN OF HEARTS. QCEEN OF DIAMONDS. KING OF DIAMONDS.
KING OF HEARTS.
KING OF CLUBS.
KNAVE OF HEARTS. KNAVE OF DIAMONDS.
KNAVE OF SPADES. KNAVE OF CLDBS.
SCENE. — Audience -chamber in the palace of the King of
Hearts. The thrones of the King and Queen in the centre
of the stage at back. Xear the Kind's throne a sma/l gilded
three-legged stool. Entrances R. ««rf L. Three arm-chairs
R. A bench L. At the rising of the curtain the Joker is
discorered seated on the King's throne, leaning on one elboie,
Ms rattle hanging idly in the other hand. He is apparently
meditating. He speaks slowly, with a pause between each
sentence.
Joker. Peradveuture it may seem improper for a fool to
leave his lowly place and climb upon the throne. But no
one's here to say me nay; ami by my faith fools have sat
on thrones before. What odds, then, if there's one fool
more or one fool less beneath the dais? To be sure, my
crown's a fool's cap and my sceptre's a rattle, and so, per-
haps, not imposing ; but it pleases me to sit here and fancy
myself a King. Nay, laugh not. It's the province of a fool
to bo foolish. And verily am I not a king? Am I not
monarch of all I survey ? lu truth I am, for I survey no-
thing, and am therefore King of Nothing. There's a title
for you — his Majesty the King of Nothing! (Yawns and
xtrclclicx anil rixesfrom the throne; picks up his stool, places
it ni'iir the front, and sits dote it.) In faith the throne's no
softer than the stool, and perhaps it is best for me to cling
to this. It affords at' least one advantage over the King.
If he falls — and I fall — he gets the greater injury, for h"
tumbles from a higher place. (Laughs softly, and then
sings :)
" For it's nonny, hey nonny, tiie Jester's song,
It's nonny, hey nonny, hey oh !
For it's nonny, hey nonny, no life is long;
Oh, merry be ye here below !"
[Js he sings the last line there is a loud noise of exploding
fire-crackers behind the scenes, and the four Knaves come
tiiiiih/ini/ in nt the door L. in great confusion, all talk-
ing at once. The Knave of Hearts holds a lighted ta-
per in his hand, and the other Knaves carry fire-crackers
and other fireworks under their arms.
Kuare of Spades. Thou ilidst it.
Jut are of Hearts. Thou speakest false. 'Twas he.
Knave of Diamonds. Never. Hearts did it.
Enare of Clubs. Hearts held the taper. He did it. Thou
didst it.
Knare of Spades. Ay, ,ay, 'twas he.
Knave of Hearts. I say tliee nay.
Enare of Diamonds. He gives him the lie direct.
A n a re of Clubs. I saw him. I saw him.
Joker (rising, shakes the stool in one hand, tin rattle in the
other, and shouts). Silence! silence, ye riotous varlets !
What is this now? What is it? Why all this uoise and
debate ?
Knare. of Hearts. Nay, Sir Joker, but it was the Knave
of Spades.
Knarc of Spailes. Thou speakest false.
Knare of Diamonds and Knare of Clubs. Ay, ay, Hearts
held the taper.
[The Kuave of Hearts quickly blows out the taper and
throws it away. The Knaves all begin to talk to the
Joker at, once. He stops liix enrx and shouts.
Joker. Silence, I beg of ye ! Silence ! What is it, I say ?
The four Knares (speaking all together). Good Sir Joker,
let me explain.
Joker. One at a time, I pray of ye! Now speak thon,
Spades. What is this alarum? Whither go ye? And
what bear ye? And bearing what, whither do you hear
it?
Knare of Spades. Good Sir Joker, if yon would ask but
one question, and that direct, making it simple too, it were
the easier to give a reply.
Joker (sitting down again). Troth, for a fat Knave thou
speakest plainly. 'Tis to be hoped thou canst hear as well.
Now listen. Whither go ye ?
Knave of Spades. To the banquet hall.
Joker. And what bear ye?
Knare of Spades. Fireworks.
Joker. Fireworks?
K n a re of Spades. Indeed, fireworks.
Knare of Hearts (poking a targe fire- cracker into the
Joker's face). Art blind? Canst not see?
Joker (much alarmed). Away there, varlet, away !
Knare of Spades. Ay, fireworks, Sir Joker, for to-day 'tis
the glorious Fourth.
Joker. To-day the Fourth of July?
Knare of Diamonds (to /lit- other Knaves in a muckiity
tone). He was well named " Fool."
••I1EAKTS DID IT!"
073
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
'ART BUND? (JANST NOT SEE ?"
Knurr of Clubs. In truth lie was; yet no name was neces-
sary. 'Tis plain writ upon liis face.
[ Tin' Knaves laugh londln.
Joker. Marry, for a pack of rowdy varlets ye four do ver-
ily liolil first claim, although yon rotiintl Knave of Similes
dulli possibly deserve exemption. I prithee, Spades, why-
foreall this preparation? Why these fireworks? And why
so many large red tire-craekers?
Snare of Spades. Have yon not heard of the King's
banquet?
Kiiare til' Hearts (tilting diiirii nil tin bench mill slinking his
Innil in mill/). Nay, Spades, ask him not. He has the ass's
ears, but hears naught.
Knurr (if Iliamonds. Or hearing, understands naught.
•In/in-, By my halidame an ye ruffians liridlc not your
tongues, I will even on this torrid night fall to and smite
ye till ye whine like hounds for mercy!
[Threatens tlinn irilli liin rattle.
Tlirfinir Knares. Oh,bnt that is .a fierce threat!
[They noil their heads li> inn- another in mock seriousness,
mill jioint nt tiir Joker irilli tin liig fin --crackei -s.
Joker. And now, Spades — ?
linnri of Xpades. Ay, Sir Joker, to-night the King and
Queen of Hearts do hold a sumptuous feast, and afterward
there are to be fireworks galore. To the banquet have
been invited the King and Queen of .Spades, the King and
Queen of Diamonds, and the King and Queen of Clubs.
Joker. A right royal company, Spades.
Kniire of Npodes. Indeed right royal. And the feast too
shall be right royal. My liege the King of Spades brings
with him his tiddlers three.
Joker. So, so! Ha, ha! [Kings.
"Old King Kole
Was a merry old soul,
A merry old soul was he;
He culled for his pipe,
He called for his bowl,
And he called for liis fiddlers three."
Kinire nf Hearts. Nay. but methinks the Joker hath his
rhyming mood to-day. Sit thee down, Diamonds, a,nd be a
comfortable listener.
[The Knave of Diamonds nils i/oirn on the liein-h bexiile
lln Knave of Hearts.
.laker. It is meet that I should have my rhyming mood
to-day; for at the feast will there, not be mirth and rhyme
and wit ?
Kiinre of llenr/H. Ay, mirth and doggerel, Joker; but
what wit there may be thon'lt not answer for 't.
Joker (rising mill shaking his ./is'). I can answer for thee,
though, thou churl!
linare nf Hearts (bowing). Grarnercy, but I can answer
for m\ self.
Joker. And 'twill not be the first time. Methiuks, as a
thief thou hast already been called upon to answer once.
(Hits ilou'ii, ayain.) And now, Spades, I beg of thee, proeceil.
Knnri' of Spades. There is little more to tell, Sir Joker,
save that the Queen of Hearts herself did fashion these
larg"' lire crackers — eight of them, that there should be. one
for a salute to each guest. We bear them now to the ban-
quet hall.
Jinn re of IHanionds. Ay, and the quicker we go hence the.
•wiser; for time moves on apace, and the guests will soon be
Lere.
Joker (rising from hi.i stool and milking n inoek obeisance).
My gratitude, gentle Knaves, for your varied courtesies.
( Tin Knaves bull' anil cjrennt, K., in single file. Joker puts his
stool back in HH place beside the throne.) Of two misfortunes,
rather let me sutler that of being a fool than a knave. The
one knows nothing of the evil he does; the other knows
nothing of the evil he does not do. And methinks whether
of evil or of good those Knaves know but little of what they
now perform. They bear those explosive bombs to the
banquet hall ? Surely they err. But of my affair it is
none, and so I shall sagely hold my peace upon it, and — tap
my wit! For here come the King and Queen.
[Music. Enter the King and Queen of Hearts, L., the
Joker bowing anil dancing before them as they come.
They lake their seats upon the thrones.
Eing of I/earls. Well, Sir Joker, what was this riot that
I lately heard? What this odor of powder and salt-
In • 1 1 1 • '
Joker. The Knaves, my lord, the Knaves, the sorry Knaves.
They did but even pass this way toward the banquet, hall,
bearing fireworks. (>S//« iloirn in one of the arm-chairs, and
jiii/i/lcs iritli liis rntt/e.) They did by mischance set of)' sev-
eral of the pieces, and wellnigh seared me of the possession
of my wits.
Kimj of Hearts (laughing). Yet thon hast thy fool's cap
still well on, I hope?
Joker. That I have, sire. So well on that, even should
you wish to borrow it, you could not get it off.
King of Urartu. Thon needst have no fear that I shall
care to deprive thee of that honor.
Joker. Nay, but Kings have played the fool before.
J\ing of Hearts. True. And thou mayst well add — many
a fool has played the King.
.laker. But do not accuse me, sire. I never played you.
I do but play upon you.
Jfiny of I/carts. Thou playest upon me?
Joker. Only to hear your sweet notes, my liege
(fiieen of Hearts. Thou hast a well-turned speech to-day,
Joker.
Joker. Well turned, my Queen ? Yet not so well turned
as those giant lire-crackers which you have fashioned for
the feast. Those indeed are royal liombs!
itiiiein of Hi art", liombs V They are indeed harmless.
There is nothing in them, but I warned the Knaves to han-
' WE DID HASTEN BEYOND ALL REASON!"
674
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Me, them carefully, saying they might unexpectedly ex-
plode. [Lani/lis.
Joker. And so, if they exploded, 'twould iu truth be un-
expected !
[Js the Joker finishes this xjieech, enter Knave of Dia-
monds, L. Hi holds tin portieres H/I ini/l a ll lion HI-IS
in luiiil tiutl t'oriniil tniics,
Knare i if Diamonds. Their Majesties the King and Queen
of Diamonds.
Music. Enter tin- King and Queen of Diamonds, L.
Ki»n nf Hearts. Welcome, my cousin of Diamonds. Wel-
come this glorious July day.
ijnecn nf Hearts. Welcome, fair lady. " First come, best
lnved," is the sayiug, you know — and ye are the first come.
Pray bo seated.
[.// tin1 entrance of tin King and Queen of Diamonds the
King anfl Queen of Hearts rise to greet them. Tlif
King of Diamonds hoirx to t/ie King of Hearts anil
kisses tin- lianil nf the Queen of Hearts. The Queen
of Diamonds courtesies. Site then sits down in <ui ann-
eliaii-, H.,<nnl the King of Diamonds /akin his sland
Mi i ad Jier. Tlie Knave of Diamonds drops the por-
tiere anil sils mi Hie bench.
•Inler (to Queen of Diamonds). Even tin' sun, fair lady —
which is said by the poets to shine brightest this fair mouth
of .Inly — even the sun fails
to outsparkle your priceless
precious stones.
(Juan nf Diamonds. Ah,
you have a pretty wit, Sir
Joker. But are they not truly
the most brilliant of jewels?
•Inker. The most brilliant
of jeirels, yes ; but they pale
lie fore1 their wearer's beauty.
[Takeshisscat </n Hie stool
null- tile throne.
Enter, L., Knave of Clubs,
ir/m aiiuoiiiiiTx,
Knare of Clubs. Their Maj-
esties the King and Queen
of Clubs.
Music. Kuter the King and
Queen of Clubs, L.
Kin// of Heartx. Welcome,
welcome, good Clubs. My
best wishes, fair lady, my best
wishes!
fjnccii nf Hearts (to Queen
of Clubs). Greeting to you,
and pray take seat beside our
cousin of Diamonds.
[At the entrance of the
King and Queen of
Clubs the King anil
Queen of Hearts
arise, as before. The
King of Clubs lioirx to tin' King of Hearts, and kiss-
es tin hand of the Queen of Hearts. The Queen of
Clubs courtesies. She then sits dntrn in nit arm-chair
neji to the Queen of Diamonds, the King of Clubs
stands behind her, and the Knave of Clubs taken hi*
place on the bench.
(t>iu in nl' Hi arts. It is indeed a pleasure to have you here
again. 'Tis now many a long day since I have seen yon.
lthieen of Clubs (fanning her.sclf, mid nfleetintf an air of
i/rciil irenriiiexx). All, dear lady of Hearts, you cannot con-
ceive of my perplexities. What with tournaments and
le\ees and audiences at large, the days do slip so swiftly
by, giving me no pause for rest or recovery, that I do find
myself ending the week ere I realize it to have begun.
Joker. Yet time, fair Queen, seems to have touched your
comely brow with a light finger. The winged hours fly
swiftly past yon, but yourself dwell at the one sweet sta-
tion of constant yoiithfuluess.
< >m i n of Clubs (haughtily). So graceful a speech, Sir
Joker, were worthy of a knight rather than of a fool.
Joker. It is for the listener to detect when the fool
WHAT IS THIS MYSTERY?
speaks foolishly. For he himself is too great a fool to judge
of the burden of his speech.
Queen of Diamonds (superciliously, to Queen of Clubs).
Methinks his words have a double edge.
Joker (to Queen of Diamonds). You wrong me, good lady,
for he that playeth with edged tools is most apt to cut
himself.
Enter, L., Knave of Spades, irho announces,
Knnre of Spades. Their Majesties the King and Queen of
Spades.
Music. Enter, L., i» gnat haute, the King ami Queen of
Spades.
King of Spades (breathlessly). Ah, I so greatly feared, my
lord—
Kin// of Hearts. A hand to thee, cousin of Spades, a hand
to thee, and welcome.
Queen of Hearts. And a fair day to you, good dame of
Spades.
(Juan of Spades (panting). Sweet cousin, we did so great-
ly fear to be behindhand that we did hasten beyond all
reason. I am quite forlorn of breath.
Queen of Hearts. Scat you, seat you, good lady.
[Tlie King and Queen of Spades HIT rery much out of
hn nth, anil ren/ irarin. The King and Queen of
Hearts, arize at their entrance to ///•/« t Iliein, but the
King if nil Queen of Spades
are NO orereome ii'itli t.inl,1-
nn'iil that the// forget the
conventionalities, and the
Queen of Spades flops into
tin I hi ril ni-in-ehair irilh-
out making tint/ courtesy.
The King of Spades tnl.ii.
/(is stand behind her, triping
his linnr rigorously with
liis handkerchief, then sud-
dt nil/ n n/eni hers he has omit-
ted to kiss the hand of hit
hostess, lie hastens across
the stage, falling as he goes,
anil makes up for the omis-
sion. The Knave of Spades
situ on the bench.
Queen of Hearts. There,
now, rest you easily, for there
is small haste for the feast.
King of Spades (still mop-
ping his face and puffing). I
am much relieved that we
were not late on the banquet.
Kin;/ nf Hearts. The ban-
quet should have waited on
you, cousin.
King of S}>ades (pacing
about the stage, nerrunslii fan-
ning himself; occasionally he
stumbles and falls). Ay, but I
might not so well have waited on the banquet.
Queen of Spades. True, he hungers mightily.
[Fans herself vigorously icith her handkerchief.
i,iuccii of Hearts (to Joker). Sir Joker, the Queen of
Spades suffereth of her exertions. I beg of you seek a fan.
[Joker bines, and ejcit K.
Queen of Clubs (aside to Queen of Diamonds^. I marvel
at the rapacity of some folk.
Queen of Diamonds. Verily one might think that there
lacked meat and cooks and scullions in the land of Spades.
Queen of Clubs. Nay, but I dare say they be short two
scullions at the present hour. [They laugh.
Queen of Hearts (In Queen of Diamonds). What say you?
ijiiccii nf (_'lnbs. I was saying that if haste might always
so trim our cheeks with color as that which now blooms
upon the fair face of our cousin o.f Spades, it were worth
the discomfort of so great an energy.
Enter Joker, R. //< prexculx fan In Queen of Spades, ieln>
fans herself boisterously.
.Inker. Would I w ere a fan, that even my whispers might
be of such grateful reception to a lady's ear!
(375
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"DIDST THOU STEAL THE FIRE-CRACKERS?"
Queen of Spades. Not my ear, Sir Joker, not my ear. It
is my nose that reddens from my efforts.
Kin// of Spades (wiping his brow and neck with his h/ind-
k( -rrhief). And as to me, it is my neck. 'Tis the pity of be-
ing stout.
Joker. The neck, Sir King ? Aha, but I warrant that
even if it be moist without, it is dry within.
King nt' Spades (with asperity). Ay, marry, fool ; but not
so dry as thy wit.
King /if Urartu. Come, come, cousin, heed him not. (The
Joker inures orer t/j the throne of the, Queen of Hearts, and
rulers into eiinirst r/inri rxatioii icith her.) It pleases me to
hear you say yon bring a good appetite to the feast.
King of Spades. Verily I feel as though I were one vast
incarnation of appetite.
King of Hearts. All the more honor will you do us, and
we shall ever recall this Fourth of July as one that pleased
you. And the good lady of Spades, lias she too —
Queen of Hearts (screams). Ah, me! Ah, laekaday, lack-
aday! [Faints.
King of Hearts. What is this 1 What is this ? The Queen
faints ! A cup ! a cup !
Queen of Diamonds, Queen of Clubs, Queen of Spades (ris-
ing anil rushing t/i the Queen of Hearts' seat. They pat her
hands and fan her). Yes, a cup, a cup!
\_The. three Knaves rush out, R., tumbling orer one an-
other and shouting " Water, irater .'" The Knaves
return, one at a time, hearing glasses of irater, lint they
are met each time by the King of Spades, icho takes
tin glass, goes half-way to the Queen of Hearts, and
then, in liis excitement, drinks the iratir himself. This
" business " can In carried on while the ensuing dia-
logue is In in// spoken.
',"'"« of Hearts (recorering herself). Nay, nay, trouble
not. I am myself again. It was merely the Joker.
['The three Queens resume their scat*.
King of Hearts (angrily). The Joker?
',"'"•« of Hearts. Ay, he spake in my ear, and said —
King of Hearts (threatening the Joker). What, Sir Joker!
Hast thou dared to frighten or disturb the Queen?
Queen of Hearts (expostulating). Nay, nay, the Joker is
good ! Good Sir Joker, tell the King. Tell them all, that
they may know !
King of Hearts (sternly). Come, Sir Joker, what is this
in \stcry ?
•loker. There is no mystery, my lord. It is all but too
plain. Her Majesty the Queen, as you know, did fashion
eight large fire-crackers of tine red paper, the which were
placed upon the board for the banquet. I went to seek a
fan for her Majesty of Spades, and in passing tlir banquet
hall curiosity did impel me to look in upon the (aides. The
tire-crackers are not there, luy liege. They have been pur-
loined. They have been stolen.
[Great excitement. The Kings anil Queens talk and ges-
ticulate with one another.
King of Hearts. What? The fire-crackers are stolen ?
Jul'cr. Ay, my lord, stolen.
King of Spades. And will there be no fireworks after the
feast ? •
King of Hearts. And the thief?
Joker. It is but left for us to guess.
King of Hearts. And thou hast suspicion ?
Joker. True, my lord, I have.
Kiny of Hearts. Name him, Sir Joker.
All. Ay, name him — name him!
Joker. Nay, nay, my liege. 'Twere unjust falsely to ac-
cuse—
Kiny of Hearts. Name him, Sir Joker!
All. Ay, name him!
Joker. My lord —
King of Hearts. Name him. I command thee!
Joker. Hath no man stolen before?
King of Hearts. Thou meanest —
Joker. The Knave of Hearts.
All (lifting their hands). The Knave of Hearts!
King of Hearts. The rascal Knave ! Where is he? Come,
come, I must have him! He is not here 1 Then hale me
hither that churlish lout, and heavily shall he pay his sins!
(Exeunt the three Knaves, L.) Aha! but there is no cause
for laughter here !
King of Spades (rery much excited, throws himself in an
exhausted condition on tin bench, L.). Laughter — laughter?
Well, I should say thee nay ! Is the larder robbed ?
Queen of Hearts. Nay, he has but taken the fire-crackers.
King of Spades. The crackers — the crackers! Did be
take the cheese too ?
Joker. Nothing else is gone.
King of Spades. Ah, fortune be praised !
Queen ofClubs(to Queen of Hearts). And did you fashion
these fire-crackers *
King of Hearts. With her own Lauds she fashioned
them.
Joker. One for each guest.
Queen of (7«fc«. Indeed — indeed! And is the Queen as
dexterous at the fashioning of lire-crackers as she is at the
baking of water-crackers and other light confections ?
Queen of Hearts. You are sweet so to flatter me.
'THE IDENTICAL TARTS!"
676
A K HIV At, OF THE ROYAL GUESTS.
Queen of (.'liilm. But I so well remember the Christinas
pie.
Kiii/i of Nptiih-H. Pie! Where is the pie?
•Inker. It was eaten last Christmas, the pie.
Kini/ of Spades. Oh, alack !
Joker. But it was a noteworthy pie. I have rhymed upon
it. Pray listen. [Hint/it.
" Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye,
Four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie ;
When the pic was opened
The birds began to sing;
Was not that a dainty dish to set before the King?"
King of Spades. Indeed that must have been a tooth-
some dish.
[jYoi'w and elimination trilliont. Enter tin' Knaves, L.,
tiro ilrayyitty, one punliini/ the Knave of Hearts. He
is forced to Itis knees in front of tin- King of Hearts'
throne.
King of Hearts (sternly). Tliere be severe accusations
against thee, Knave.
Enure of Hearts. Oh, my King! I pray —
King (if Hearts. Silence, churl ! Answer but my questions.
Didst thou steal the fire-crackers?
Knare of Hearts. Not " steal," my lord.
Kilty of Hearts. Didst thou steal the tire-crackers?
Knare of Hearts. I did but take them from the table.
Kin;/ of Heart*. Thou makest confession, then ?
K mi re of Hearts. My lord, my lord, I would but say one
word in explanation.
Kin;/ i'f Hi HI-IS. Thou shalt say nothing. This is the sec-
ond time thou art taken a thief. Last summer thou didst
si ciil the, Queen's tarts, and now thou takest the tire-crack-
ers. Thou shalt pay for it with thine head! Thou shall lie
blown up to-night upon a monster pile of fireworks.
Knare of Hearts. Mercy, my lord — mercy! Let me exr
plain.
King of Hearts (to tlie oilier Knaves). Remove him.
[The Knave of Hearts is ilrayyed mil, L.
Queen of Diamonds. And did he steal once before ?
King of Hearts. That he did, and was therefore severely
punished. I myself did beat him full sore.
Kin;/ of Spnilea (slapping King of Hearts on tlie back). Do
it again, cousin — do it again !
King of Hearts (approvingly). That shall I! ThonspeaUest
well. I beg your patience, ladies; but I will beat this
Kuave before he dies.
[Erit King, L. ,rolli>iy up liia sleeres.
Kin;/ of Spades (to Queen of Spades). 'Tis fortunate he
did but take the fire-crackers. I should have grieved sore-
ly had they been tarts ; for tarts one may eat, but fire-
crackers they be somewhat indigestible, I fear.
Queen of Clnhs. I had uot heard of this previous theft.
Queen of Hi arts. It was similar to this, fair cousin. And
the Joker hath likewise rhymed upon it.
Queen of Clubs. Indeed. And may we hear the verse, Sir
Joker?
Joker. It is a pleasure to sing it. [.S/»</«
" The Queen of Hearts
She baked some tarts
All on a summer's day — "
of beatini/ without, and land cries by tlie Knave
of Hearts of "Ow!" " Ow!" " Mei-ey, my lord!"
"Hold!" "Hear me!"
077
HARPER'S ROUND TAP.LE
Queen of Spade*. 'Tis evident tin- piiiiisliinciiHi.-itlilic.unn.
Queen of Chilis. (Hi. tin- poor Knave! the poor Knave!
[.Wore sound* of benliiig ninl more cries. Tin: King of
Spades lieeonie* rerif nnteli excited.
Kiny of Spades (shaking his fiat in tin direction of the cries).
H;ive at him, good cousin of Henri s, have at him! All, but
those are lusty blows! By my halidame, I would fain
•,< iiiH-ss that controversy! [Slap* his knee.
.////,.;•. A most one-sided controversy, my lord.
King of Spade*. Nay, but I warrant the King doth lay it
»n on In, ih side*. [Mare ben tin;/ and cries.
Joker. Ay, from the sounds, ho doth lay it on. But, doubt-
less, it will whet his appetite.
King of Spade*. His appetite? Now, by St. Dagobert, I
ha \ e already an appetite as I had beaten an hundred knaves!
Joker. Then will it also be a one-sided controversy when
yon meet the banquet board.
King of Spade*. I would fain go out. and beat the Knave
for causing this delay. (Sounds and eric*.) Have at him!
Have at him, sir! Now, a good one for me, sir, a good one!
[Tlir sound* and cries gradually eenxr.
Queen of Chili*. Prithee, Sir Joker, finish your rhyme:
y lid but sing the first lines.
Joker (sings),
" The Queen of Hearts
She baked some tarts
All on a summer's day;
The Knave of Hearts
He stole those tarts,
And bore them far away.
"The Kin? <>l limits
Called lor those tarts,
And beat the Knave full sore — '
Enter ttic King of Hearts, L., sonieirhnt nut of breatli, rolling
ilinen hin sleeres, and I'nlloired by tin Knaves of Diamonds,
Clubs, and Spades.
King of Heart*. Ah, but I did ply the rod right lustily!
I am quite aweary- [sit« doirn.
Kin/i of Spades (rubbing hi* hand*). We did much enjoy
the. music !
Queen of Hearts, (iood spouse, I would begone thing of
thee. It being the Fourth of July, and so our nation's birth-
day, spare the rogue his life. Let him come before us again.
You heard him say he would make explanation. Let him
come, and speak. Perchance it is not too late for him to
make restitution.
King of Henri* (in astonishment). Dost thou truly desire
that the varlet should be spared?
Queen of lien rtx (pleading). Ay, truly, my lord. And I do
especially yearn for the return of the lire-crackers.
King of Spade*. Ay, cousin, if he would but return the
lire-crackers, hear him, I urge, hear him.
King of Heart* (to tlie three Knaves1). Hale me hither that
Knave again. (E.niinl /lit Knaves, L.) I greatly doubt me,
s\\ eel, lady, that the thieving churl will return the crackers.
He did not return the tarts. But if he can and does re turn the
lire-crackers, then at your request will I spare' him his life.
(fiieen i if III iirl*. Yon make me promise of that, my King?
King of Henri*. You have my word upon it.
Killer, L., //ir tliree Knaves e*enrting the Knave of Hearts, who
is rerif sore us it n.still of liis heating.
King of Henri*. Knave, the Queen hath begged of me to
let tl speak ere the headsman seals thy lips forever.
h' nil re of Heart*. A blessing upon yon, good lady.
King of Henri*. And now speak what thou hast to say,
and may thy words be brief.
Knnre of Henri*. My liege, I did not steal the fire-crackers.
I did but see them near the tapers, and I did fear lest they
catch lire and explode upon the table. Methonglit thev were
the daintier did they hold some sweet contents, and so I
took them and bore them nil', and found them void. So
then I was about to bring them back to the banquet board,
when yon messengers did seize me and hale me roughlv be-
fore your Majesties.
King of Henri*. And thou didst have intention to re-
' turn them?
Knnre of Heart*. Ay, verily, my liege. Verily I did. 1
plead now that I be allowed to bring them to the board.
J\iu i/ of Henri*. Speakcst thou the' truth. Knave?
Kuan of Heart*. Every word is truth, sire.
King of Henri*. Then go thou and seek the fire-crackers.
( To tlie oilier Knaves.) And go ye with him. ( To tlie Knave
of Hearts.) The Queen holds my word that if thou bring-
est them back, I spare thy life. Now look to thyself. Away !
[Exeunt, L., the four Knaves.
Joker. It is a cheap life that costeth but eight lire-crack-
ers!
King of Spades. Ay, but the. fire-crackers be worth more
than yon Knave's life.
Queen of Heart*. Come, speak no more of his life. It is
no longer forfeit. He hath promised restitution, and (lie
King will bestow plenary pardon.
King of Spades. Well, as for me, I am more anxious as to
the crackers than as to any Knave's life.
[Manic. Enter, L., tlie four Knaves, eneh ben ring tiro
large fire-cracker*. Tlie re a re tart* in each. Tlie Knaves
xtnnd *i<le by *ide along tlie trail, L.
King of Spade*. Aha, the lire-crackers, the fire-crackers !
Queen of Spade*. And most wondrous, wondrous are they !
tjHccu of Diamonds. Truly they be most marvellously
fashioned.
Kim/ of Heart*. Now, Knave, according to my promise,
and because of the gracious intercession of the Queen, thy
life is spared, for thou hast brought back the fire-crackers.
Take them to the board. And if ever again tbon art taken
a thief, thou needst not reckon thy life at the hundredth
part of a farthing.
King of Spade*. But, Sir King, the Knave did say he took
the lire-crackers that he might place somewhat therein.
King of Hearts. True, I remember he said so. Hast thou
placed aught within them, Knave?
Knnre of Heart*. Ay, my lord. When I did first purloin
the Queen's tarts last summer, methonght to eat them. But
being so sorely beaten by your Majesty, I did refrain, and
so kept the tarts uneaten. To-day I return the tarts in the
lire-crackers, thereby making double restitution to her most
charitable, and generous Majesty the Queen of Hearts.
[Tin Knaves open tlie fire-crackers and shake out tlie Inrls
into a trail held hi/ the Joker.
Qneen of Hearts. The tarts ?
Knnre of Heart*. Ay, my Queen, the identical tarts.
tt>ueeii of <'lnli*. But they must be stale of the last sum-
mer?
Joker. Nay, fair lady. These be royal tarts, and not
of the general. Age cannot stale them, nor can human
possibility limit their infinite variety.
<t>iiceii of Hearts. Taste them, fair cousins, taste them.
[The Joker pa**es around the tnrtx; eaeh player takes
one.
King of Sjiades. And do I not taste ? Do I have no tart ?
Queen of Heart*. Ay, Sir King, there shall none go hun-
gry here.
King of Spade* (hnring taken a tart trith eaeli band, bite*
out of en eh in turn an he *peak*). Ah, a strawberry tart and
a gooseberry tart. But they bo both most toothsome.
Most excellent, most excellent, my lady of Hearts.
Queen of Hin.nonds. Verily they are as if they had but
just come from the oven !
tjneen of Club*. Most deliciously sweet.
Queen of Spade*. So good I never tasted before.
King of Hearts (to Knave of Hearts). It is well for thee,
Knave, that thou hast so wisely demeaned thyself. The
return of the tarts cleanses thee of all past evil-doing.
Henceforth I hope thou wilt be, as before, a good Knave, a
strong Knave, and a loyal Knave. Good friends, let us now
to the banquet.
Kiiuj of Sim/lex. A most laudable purpose!
[Tbe King of Hearts offer* hi* hand to the Queen of
Hearts, and conducts her from the throne to the front of
the Ktnge. The three other Queens rise nnd </''""/'
theniselres iii a aeniieirele beliind the King and Queen
of Hearts. Thus, beginning from the right side of the
stage, the character* stand in tliix urder in the semicir-
cle : King of Spades, Queen of Spades, King of
078
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Chilis, Queen of Clubs, King of Diamonds, Queen of
I liainonds, Joker, Knave of Hearts, Knave of Spades,
Knave nf Diamonds, /mil Knave of Clubs.
•(•» of l/i-in-lx (Hililn'ssiiii/ the iiuilii'iiw).
Kind friends, our play is done.
Tlie crackers are returned ;
Our end is won,
The lesson's learned;
And all that's left to do
Upon this festive eve
Is that we give to you
Our thanks before you leave.
But as you go, take this ;
It is not quite a moral —
Yet the point you cannot miss,
And so we shall not quarrel:
Tis well the Knave did not retain
These things, but brought them back.
Tis good we made the King refrain
Krom executing Jack,
Else none could play at cards again
Short one Knave in the pack.
[CURTAIN.]
The costumes of the Kings and Queens and Knaves should be
made to correspond as nearly as possible with the costumes of
those characters in a. pack of playing-cards, the colors used being
red, white, yellow, and black. The Joker should be dressed in the
regulation costume of a court jester of the sixteenth century, with
cap and bells. This player should be selected with particular re-
gard for his ability to enact the part, which requires gracefulness,
some ability to sing, and a careless, debonair manner of speaking.
If there are enough players available, the spectacular effect of
the pieee can be greatly enhanced by adding soldiers and court
attendants to the speaking characters. The latter should be
dressed like the lower Heart cards of the pack. This effect, may
be obtained by dressing the players in tunics (something like the
placards worn by the " sandwich-men " who display advertise-
ments on the streets), on which the face of the card may be easily
represented with pieces of red flannel cut into the shape of hearts.
•The stage decoration should be entirely of hearts arranged in every
conceivable combination. The fire-crackers should be of papier-
mache, and made so as to open at one end. Such can be obtained
at almost any confectioner's. The larger they are, the better. The
tarts should be real tarts. Portieres should be hung in the two
entrances, and if possible should resemble ancient tapestry. The
effect of beating (when the King is punishing the Knave of Hearts)
is easily obtained by having some one behind the scenes beat a
rug or carpet with a cane — the louder the better. The fire-crack-
ers in the opening scene should be set off in an empty barrel be-
hind the scenes. The characters must remember that they arc
representing figures on playing-cards, and should be careful al-
wavs to take the attitudes familiar to us on such cards. This is
not required of the Joker. A pianist can add greatly to the
effect of the performance by playing appropriate music at the
entrance of the various characters, and at such other periods of
the performance as may seem proper.
The four royal couples are supposed to represent different hu-
man characteristics. The Hearts are lovable, gentle, well-bred
people. The Diamonds are rich, overbearing persons, and the
Queen should be decked out with jewels. The Clubs represent
social and political prominence and arrogance, and should hold
themselves accordingly. The Spades are the exponents of the
under-bred, uneducated, but well-meaning portion of society.
Thus the Knave of Spades should be a good-natured fat fellow,
meaning no harm, but not particularly comely or graceful.
If soldiers are added to the cast, they should enter with the
King and Queen of Hearts, and take up their positions along the
back of the stage at either side of the thrones. They should also
stand by the doors, and should take the parts assigned to the
Knaves in the scene where the Knave of Hearts is dragged before
the King, and led away to be punished. But the returning of the
fire-crackers must be done by the four Knaves.
The plavers who take the parts of the red cards should, if pos-
sible, be light haired, those who represent the black cards should
be dark haired.
In the stage directions, R. stands for Right; L. for Left. The
right and left sides of the stage correspond to the right and left
sides of the spectators, not of the players.
GEORGE. "Mamma, baby's a stupid little fellow: the
other day he cried for an hour, and then he didn't get it."
HOW TO BUILD AN INEXPENSIVE
SHOOTING-BOAT.
ANY boy with ordinary intelligence and mechanical
skill can build this inexpensive and useful shooting-
boat. Because it is called a shooting- boat it docs not
mean that it can be used for shooting only; on the con-
trary, a great many of these little boats are used for tenders
to cat-boats on Barncgat Bay.
First, procure two hemlock boards — being the cheapest. —
10 feet long. Take off in the proper scale, from body plan
of boat, Fig. 3, the sections numbered 1, 2, 3, 4, etc. Instead
of cutting out curve of deck, as shown in body plan, make
the part flat where the curve should be, as shown in mould
No. 6. Carefully draw them upon pieces of planed pine
boards. With a saw go over the lines and cut the sections
out, taking great care, as the shape of your boat will de-
pend upon these sections.
Lay the hemlock boards on the floor, and nail strips across
them, leaving an opening of 8 inches between the boards.
Turn the boards over, and with pencil marks divide, them
at every foot, and fasten the sections, narrower side up,
strongly upon these boards in the order and manner shown
in Nos. 6 and 7. It is better to fasten the mould (planks
and sections) together with screws, as it will be easier to
take apart when done with, thus enabling the wood in it
to be used in the. construction of the boat.
We will now commence on the boat proper. The work
so far is only preparatory, it being necessary to have Ihr
mould to hold the planking of the boat in place until the
braces and ribs can be put in. Take two half-inch pine
boards 10} feet long, and nail one lightly on each side of
the mould. With a tine gimlet bore a small hole through
the board where it meets the angles formed by each sec-
tion, as shown in No. 7 on mould. Take the board oil'
again, and bending a thin moulding so that it passes through
each gimlet hole, trace a pencil line around the outside of
the moulding. After having done this with the four lines
of holes, go over the pencil lines with a saw, and yon have
your side planks finished. Nail one. of these on each side
of the mould narrower ends to section No. 2, allowing tin-
extra ends to project beyond '1, driving the nails in tin-
holes made the first time, using as few nails as possible,
and taking care that the upper edges of boards are on a
level with the upper edges of the sections.
Select a nice piece of wood — oak, if possible — 18 inches
long, 6 inches wide by 3| inches thick, and make the hori-
zontal stern-post (No. 9). The side- and luilf-breadth plans
are shown in the cut, but to get section through A B use
section No. 1, body plan (Fig. 3). The rabbetting is half-inch
deep, and is intended to receive the side, deck, and bottom
planking.
Cut from a piece of three-quarter-inch plank the sect inn
numbered 11. This is the stern-board. Withdraw the nails
holding the side planks to section 11 in the mould, and
knock the section off the mould, substituting for it the
stern-board. You are now ready to put on the bottom
boards, which are of half-inch material. These are nailed
on crosswise, the ends of the boards resting on the top of
the sides. Screw on the stern-post, putting side B C upper-
most.
We have now finished the shell of our boat, and we must
dispense with the mould before the work can contn
Having placed braces between sides at M,N, and O, Fig. 2,
carefully withdraw the nails that hold the sides to the sec-
tions, and lift the mould out.
Take a three-qnarter-ineh board 10 feet 5 inches long
by 4 inches wide, and measure oil from one of the. ends two
points 2 feet 4 inches and 4 feet 1J inches distant, respect-
ively, marking these points with a pencil. Between these
points cut with a chisel a slot 1J inches wide, extending
through the board, and at each end, distant a half-inrh
from end of slot, cut a hole 1 inch long and half an inch wide.
Nail this plank down the centre of the boat, inside, nailing
it securely and with plenty .'I' nails to the bottom boards,
where the slot is cut in the plank (keelson). Now, with a
chisel, continue the slot through the bottom boards. Take
two pieces of wood 2£ inches wide, 1$ inches thic-k, and
679
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE LINES OF THE BOAT.
12J and 10-| inches iu length, respectively, and cut them at
one end, so that they will fit tightly in the little slots in
keelson, and put them in place, the shorter one nearest bow
(No. 5) Cut out deck beams B and C, fastening them at
B and C, and knock away braces.
To get the .curve of the deck beams A, B, and C (Fig. 2),
we will take curve of A. To proper scale draw a line
equal tu width of boat at A. Measure height from gun-
wale to crown of deck at A, and draw a perpendicular at
centre of line equal to this distance. Describe an arc
touching the extremities of the line and passing through
the top of the perpendicular, and this arc is the curve
desired.
We will now plank the centreboard trunk, and this
should be done with care, as there is nothing more annoy-
ing and troublesome than a leaky trunk. Put in brace A,
which is in two pieces, extending from each side of trunk
to gunwale. Nail on the keelson, alongside the board
trunk, two strips of wood, which will serve as braces for the
trunk. At the top, nail between A and B two strips of wood
to support the top of trunk, making the upper edges of
tliese braces come half an inch above the deck beams. Now
fasten in the beams at sections 4 and 5, taking the curves of
the beams from the respective sections. Make mast step,
and bolt it to the middle of keelson. Take a piece of wood
2 feet 6 inches long, 6 inches wide, cut a hole iu the centre
of it, and shape and tit it in at D (Fig. 2). This is to serve
as the mast brace. Cut from a piece of three-quarter-inch
board two pieces of wood 3 feet 9 inches long and 2 inches
thick, and fasten them between beams B and C, one on
each side, and eighteen inches from the centre of the boat.
Put iu deck beams 6, 7, 8, and 9 from gunwale to these
frames, taking the. curves for the requisite
length from the respective sections. Put in
the rest of deck beams. Now with half-
inch boards plank the deck. Between 6
and 7, 8 and 9, on each side, fit in a piece of
three-quarter-inch board, which is to hold
the oarlocks.
Take a quarter-inch board, 4 inches wide,
and cut from it two pieces 3.J feet lung.
These will form the side coaming of the
cockpit, sen-wing them on so that their
In, (torn edges shall he Hush with bottoms of
cockpit braces, M' N' ( Fig. 2). From a piece
of quarter-inch plank cut the two pieces
of end coaming, making these follow the
curve of the deck, and projecting H inches
above it.
Cut from a pirce of 1 3-inch stun" the oar-
locks shown in No. 12. Through centre of
raised part bore hole t" receive iron ring.
Screw projection at top to lock. The lock
is now completed, and the next thing is to
secure it to the deck of the boat with bolts.
The skag comes next. Out of a three-quarter-
inch board cut the pattern shown in Fig. 1,
and with bolts and screws secure it to the
boat's bottom in the position shown in Figs. 1
and 2. From a piece of oak 15 inches long, 2
inches wide, and three-quarters of an inch
thick cut the stern-post shown in No. 10, and
fasten it, broader side on stern-board and nar-
rower side on end of skag. Screw in the
stern-post the rudder braces, making one on
narrow end li inches from end, and the other
10^ inches above this.
Give the deck of your boat a good coat of
paint, and after it has dried tack heavy canvas
over it. The centreboard is of the " dagger"
pattern so commonly seen in the small bateau
and skiff on the Shrewsbury Eiver and vicin-
ity. Fig. 1 shows all the essential points.
The rudder is of seven-eighths-inch plank, and
after a careful study of No. 4 its construction
can be readily understood.
The hull of the boat is now complete, and
we will turn our attention to the rigging.
The mast is 7 feet 3 inches long, and 2i inches thick at the
deck, tapering towards the top. The boom is 9 feet 1 inch
in length, excluding jaws, and should be about the same
thickness throughout the whole length, having only a
slight taper towards the end. Each jaw should be made
of a separate piece of wood, in shape shown in No. 2, and
fastened to boom iu manner shown iu cut. The sprit is a
three-quarter-inch pole 9 feet 9 inches long.
The sail is the next thing to attend to, and being quite
small, may be made at home. Its dimensions are: along
the mast, 5 feet ; on boom, 9 feet ; top, 5 feet; from end of
boom to end of sprit, 11 feet 4i inches. The general shape
may be taken from drawing, and it will be necessary to <
give only a few hints in addition. The extra patches seen
at corners of sail are pieces of heavy canvas put there to
prevent it from ripping, the heaviest strain coming at the
corners. The eyelets at the corners had best be formed by
first cutting a round hole in the canvas, and then, with an
"over-and-over" stitch, sewing a small iron ring in the
hole. The edges are bound with strips of canvas enclos-
iug a small cotton rope. The sail is laced to mast and
boom in manner shown in cut, and in No. 3 is seen the
manner of slinging lower end of sprit, whilst the upper
end, which is sharpened, is poked through the eyelet.
To reef the sail it is only necessary to remove the sprit,
and this will reduce the area of the sail nearly half. The
sheet rope is rigged in the manner showu in No. 8, the
boom block being fastened at Y (No. 1), boom rope at Z,
and the snap -hook caught in the staple P in deck
(Fig. 1). To take down sail, unhook snap-hook, take out
sprit, raise boom up alongside the mast, and lift the mast
out.
•'
.'I _-<•• • — 7-7—
leSfefc&L^
.™3*£>~ -r _
DETAILS OF TI1E BOAT.
G80
INTERSCHOEASTIO
••-••••*»••
T^HE CONTROVERSY OVER EnRicii, the Harvard School
catcher, lias been settled by the I.S.A. A. Executive
Committee, and the championship pennant has been award-
ed to the protested nine. More inconsistent and illogical
action could not have been taken, and the way it was done
reflects little credit upon the dignity of the association.
Controversies such as this one are always regrettable; but
•when they do arise they ought to be settled upon their
merits, and all personal feeling in the matter should be dis-
regarded. Ever since De La Salle protested Ehrich, the
delegates from the various schools to the I. S. A. A. have
dodged around the question to be decided by them, and
have adopted a policy of irresolution aud delay. Several
meetings have been called, but not until this last one was
there a quorum present — and this was a quorum with a
very small q. The delay between the time the protest was
filed and the day the decision was made was put to very
good use by the Harvard scholars. They did what politi-
cians would call "some tall lobbying." They did it to
such good effect that the vote stood 15 to 5 in favor of
Ehrich.
THE ARGUMENTS ADVANCED BY THEM iu favor of their
man were truly amusing, and none but the most oblig-
ing of delegates would have consented to allow the
wool to be so gracefully pulled over their drooping eyes.
These arguments were to the effect that although Ehrich
had spent a year in the sub-Freshman class of the College
of the City of New York, he had failed to pass his entrance
examinations into the Freshman class in 1894. Neverthe-
less, lie was admitted to that class, and remained a member
of it until the Christmas term examinations, when he failed
again, and so left C.C.N.Y. for the more congenial precincts
of the Harvard School. Therefore, according to the Har-
vard representatives, Ehrieh was never really a member of
the C.C.N.Y. Freshman class, because he did not pass his
Christinas examinations. The mere fact that he attended
recitations with the class, and enjoyed other privileges of
Freshmen, has nothing to do with the case. This is in-
consequential, and the De La Salle men were really draw-
ing the line too fine when they referred to it. At least so
must have thought the members of the I.S.A.A. committee,
for they so decided. If Ehrich had passed his examina-
tions lie would have gone on with his class at C.C.N.Y.
This was no doubt his intention before Christinas.
BUT THE INCIDENT is CLOSED NOW. Harvard School lias
the pennant, and the whole matter may as well be dropped.
I don't suppose the members of the I.S.A.A. committee feel
very proud of their work. They find themselves now in a
peculiar position. By awarding the championship to Har-
vard they practically admit that they had no business
sending the De La Salle nine to represent the League at
Eastern Park four weeks ago. Their only justification for
sending that team to Brooklyn would have been to award
them the championship. But in all these incidents some les-
son is to be learned. From this one I think we can gather
that protestors should not wait until the last moment to
make their objections, unless, of course, the act to be pro-
tested is not committed until this very last moment arrives.
Another lesson is that executive committees ought to attend
to their business promptly, and decide knotty points iu
time for their decision to be of some value — not a month
after the contest to be affected lias been settled.
THE STANDING OF THE SEVERAL NINES in the N.Y.I. S.B.B.
League, according to the games played, is therefore as fol-
lows :
FIRST SECTION.
April 23.— Harvard, 8; Berkeley,?.
April 30. — Woodbridge, by default from Columbia Inst.
May 7. — Columbia Gram. ,30; Barnard, 4.
May 14. — Harvard, 15; Woodbridge, 0.
May 21. — Harvard, 19 ; Columbia Gram., 1.
SECOND SECTION.
April 25.— Condon, 20 ; Columbia Inst., 19.
May 2.— Cutler, 7 ; Drisler, 3.
May 9. — De La Salle, by default from Hamilton.
May 16. — Cutler, 13; Condon, 0.
May 23.— De La Salle, 25 ; Cutler, 5.
FINAL GAME.
May 31.— Harvard, 12 ; De La Salle, 8.
The Harvard School team suffered no defeat, and had to
play three games to win the first section series. The De
La Salle team had only one game to play to win the second
section, Hamilton defaulting on May 9th. Few of the
games were close or exciting, as most of the scores will
show, and it is to be hoped that next year a greater inter-
est will be displayed in our national spurt.
THE AUTHORITIES AT ST. PAUL'S SCHOOL, Concord, go to
the opposite extreme, iu matters connected with out-door
sport, from the course adopted by many other large schools.
I mean in regard to publicity. In New York, especially,
many principals of schools believe that the welfare of the
institutions over which they preside is best promoted by a
reasonable amount of newspaper notoriety. The students
at those schools hold the same opinion ; and as a result we
read a good deal about what is going on in the scholastic
circles in this city, and we constantly see portraits of the
rising young athletes printed in the daily papers. In Bos-
ton they go even further. For a column about schools
printed in New York there is a page printed in Boston.
The faces of the school athletes there are as well-known
to the public as those of the most prominent amateurs or
professionals. Too much of that sort of thing, of course, is
bad, because there are young men who are thus led to
believe themselves much more important than they are.
ANDOVER'S TRACK ATHLETIC TEAM.
681
HAEPEE'S EOUND TABLE
WISCONSIN INTERSCHOLASTIC A. A. FIELD-DAT AT MADISON, JUNE S, 1*95.
Events.
Winners.
Performance.
Second.
Third.
^
A- Kraenzlein, E.S.
A. Kraenzlein, E.S.
c M.'.vt, S.S.
A Kraenzlein, E.S.
E. Baer, M.A.
•A. Donkle, M.H-S.
10 2-5 sec.
17 3-5 "
243-5 "
27 4-5 "
53 3-5 "
2 m. 14 1-5 "
5 " 3-5 "
9 " 36 "
37 ft. 7 1-2 in.
103 " 11
5 " 6 1-8 "
20 " 6 "
10 '• 1-2 "
J. Fox, M.A.
J. Fox, M.A.
M. Price, Edg.
S. Lvle M.H.-S.
A. Blodgett, E.S.
U. stemel, E.S.
P. Estes, S.S.
H. Helms, S.S.
Worlhington, W. H.-S.
Schilling, M.H.-S.
J. Fox. M.A.
-Trott, W.11..S.
C. Mej'^t, S.S..
C Kraisch, S.S.
" A. Blodgett, E.>.
Berryman, M.H.-S.
Mueller, S.S.
K. Martin, Jl A.
Brown, M.H.-S.
Knapp, M.H.-s.
Knapn, M. 11. -S.
Wilson, W.H.-S.
Wilson, \V. 11. -S.
Lean, W.H -S
A. Donkle. M.I1.-S.
P. Shepard. M.H.-S.
A. Kraenzlein, E.S.
R. Worthington, W. H.-S.
A. Krnenzlein, E.S.
Clifford, M.H.-S.
\ Smith. ' r 11 ^
, Doolittle, l K
Firsts count 5. Seconds 3. Thirds!.
ES East Side, Milwaukee. S.S. , South Side, Milwaukee. M. A., Milwaukee Academy. M.H.-S., Madison H
W.H.-S., Whitewater High-School. E.H.-S., Evansville High-School. Bdg., Edgerton High-School.
M.H.-S.. Mndismi High-School.
Really, the worth of a mau iu this world — uo matter what
his sphere in life may be- -is not ganged by the number of
inches he can occasionally command iu a double-leaded
column with a spread head and a portrait.
THE VICK-UKCTOI; OF ST. PAUL'S is of the conviction that
school sports of late have run wild, and that the best way
to keep them within bounds is to avoid any publicity what-
ever. I agree with the vice-rector that this is a good enough
way, but I aui not at all of the opinion that it is the best
way. Newspaper enterprise and competition have become
so great of late that it is very difficult to withhold from the
public any matter of real importance. If one paper does
not get it, another \\ ill. If the uewsgatherer does not obtain
all the facts, there will be just enough printed to give an
erroneous and unfortunate impression to the reader. It is
my opinion that a regulated publicity is best. Any uews-
gatherer who feels confident that he is getting. just as much
as his neighbor, and that the information given to him is
reliable, will never abuse the privilege by making sensa-
tional use of the material. It is usually when information
is withheld that sensationalism is called in. The reading
public wants something, and the paper that has not got
facts to give cooks up something as a substitute. The
uiau who withheld the facts seldom like the substitution.
THESE REFLECTIONS HAVE BEEN CALLED UP by the remi-
niscence of the manner in which the Halcyon and Shattuck
boat club races of St. Paul's were conducted three weeks
ago. They were held on June llth, at eleven o'clock iu
the morning; but as this fact had been withheld from pub-
lic knowledge the spectators were practically limited to
the boys of the school. Of course that is just what the
vice-rector wanted. But is he right in this ? Why not let
the good people of Coucord stand upon the .shores of Peua-
cook Lake and watch the race between these crews of
healthy American boys? Is there anything about sport, as
conducted at .St. Paul's School, that the vice-rector, or auy
one else, should be ashamed of? Of course not! Then
why not be open ami aboveboard about, it ? Why race when
the townsman's back is turned? Why deprive him of a
little healthful cheering and an inspiriting sight? He
would surely be the better for it, aud the St. Paul's crew
would be none the worse.
THE RACES THIS YEAH WEKE most interesting, and one
incident of the six-oared race was thrilling. At a point
about half-way down the course, while the Shattucks and
the Halcyons were still about even, Oglebay, who was row-
ing No. 2 iu the Shuttuck boat, broke his oar -lock. Of
course his muscle was of no further avail, and thenceforth
he could be but a passenger, so lie did what every level-
headed oarsman does under the circumstance — he leaped
into the water. He was picked up by a boat near by. But
with only rive men the Shattucks were unable to win. It
is a sandy thing to do, this jumping into the water from a
racing-shell, and while Oglebay is entitled to praise for
leaping, he would most certainly have deserved censure if
lie had not jumped. In the race between Vale and the
Atalanta crew on New Haven Harbor, in 1890, Phil Allen,
stroke and captain, broke his oar arid jumped into tin .sea.
He was picked up by the referee's tug, aud stood at the
bow dripping wet as he watched his seven men defeat the
crack amateur crew of New York. Allen got his training
at St. Paul's — in fact, most of the best oarsmen of Harvard
and Vale learned to row on Lake Penaeoolc.
THE FIRST RACE OF THK DAY at this regatta was a contest
between the Halcyon and Shattuck four-oared shells, which
was easily won by the former, in 11 min. 21 sec., by about
six lengths. The second race was the one in which Ogle-
bay jumped, and the last was the contest for the school
championship between the two eight-oared crews of the
same clubs. The outcome replaced the Shattnck blue
above the Halcyon crimson — the latter having been the
champions for the past four years. The Shattnck stroke
started at 39 to the minute, but soon fell to 37, aud about
half-way down the course, dropped to 3(i. The winning
crew led the entire distance, aud their time was 9 min. 14^
seconds.
KOWING AS A SCHOLASTIC SPORT has never been much
practised iu this country except at St. Paul's School, which
aims rather more than any other American institution to
follow the manners and customs of our Eton and Rugby
cousins. And, as far as following the athletic customs and
usages of the Britons is concerned, they could not do bet-
ter at Concord, or anywhere else. There have been races
every year on Lake Pen acook since 1871, when the Halcyon
crew defeated its rivals over a one-mile course in 8 min.
32 sec. But St. Paul's has peculiar advantages for the
sport that other schools are deprived of. Years ago there
was rowing at St. Mark's School. Southboro', but it was given
up for a number of reasons. The sport is to be resumed,
however, next spring : hut the coutests will be inter-class
affairs. The day when we shall see interscholastic boat-
races is far distant, I am afraid ; although there is uo rea-
son why it should be.
EXETER AND ANDOVER used to row, too ; but I dou't re-
member that there ever was an Exeter-Audover race.
Exeter is situated near enough to the sea to feel tide-
water: and the .Swaiascott River is very broad near
the town. Above it is dammed oft', and the upper
portion is locally knowu as Fresh River. The row-
ing used to be done on Salt River, below the dam.
Shells were sent up to the school Athletic Association by
Yale and Harvard, who were anxious to encourage the
sport so as to obtain good material for their own crew s. and
for a number of years there were class races in the fall and
spring. But after the novelty of the thing had worn away,
aud no race was arranged with Andover, interest flagged,
and iu 1883 or 1884 the sport was abandoned, and the old
boat-house was left to decay and fall to pieces. The col-
leges sent shells to Andover, too, and there was some ilr.snl-
tory rowing there for a few years, but it was finally aban-
doned teu or twelve years ago, probably for the same rea-
son that Exeter gave it up — because no iiiterschola-tn-
contest was arranged. It is to be hoped that it will be
revived, for there is no better sport on the calendar, and,
from a spectacular point of view, it is far ahead of many
games that now enjoy wide popularity.
682
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
TlIK ACCOMPANYING TABLE SHOWS what
records were made by the athletes of the
Wisconsin I.S.A.A. at tlieir first annual field
day which occunvd on June tfth, on the
campus of the University of Wisconsin at
Madison. The 8tli day of June was a great
one for track and ticld sports all over the
country, apparently. For a youngster this
Wisconsin association is in a flourishing
condition, anil great is its prowess. Ten
schools constitute its membership, and
nearly one hundred entries were down on
the programme for the field day. The
Milwaukee East Side High-School took first
place with 32 points. i"> of which wen- made
by Kraenzlein, who won five firsts. He is
a promising all-round athlete. When it is
taken into consideration that he ran his
three races w ithin an hour or so, such time
as 104 sec. for the 100, 17f sec. for the high,
and 2?J sec. for the low hurdles is remark-
able. These records will doubtless stand at
Madison for some years to conic.
Tun DAY AFIEK To-MoRKow will be an-
other great day for out-door sports. The
biggest field meeting in the neighborhood
of New York will be that of the New Jersey
Athletic Club at Bergen Point. Several of
the school athletes who have made records
for themselves the past season have entered.
and if they manage to do as well as they
did at Travel's Island on the 15th of last
mouth they will soon establish a high repu-
tation. Baltazzi will jump, but only high
enough to win. He has been training hard
lately, and can do six feet now beyond
i|iiestiou. But he is keeping these extra
inches up his sleeve for the Britishers in
September. THE GRADUATE.
CPUDDING!
This DeiiHi-luienl i^ umnlucti-il in tlif intt>re>l nt' l.Jirls au.l
Women, and the Editor will bt- pleased to answer any que-
the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.
WAKM ? Well, what else can we ex-
pect ? Here it is July, with our
thoughts all flying out like banners in the
breeze toward the day of which we are
proudest in the whole year, The Fourth!
No other day has "the" before it, and no
other has so splendid a meaning for us
Americans. I never think of it without a
thrill of .joy, and a sort of happy " Hail
Columbia" feeling, and no matter how sul-
try it may be I want to go to the piano and
play
" My country 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty —
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From everv mountain-side
Let freedom ring!"
IN my childhood we used to keep Inde-
pendence Day in a very patriotic spirit.
Waking in the morning, our eyes saw flags
and festoons of bunting — the red, white,
and blue — interwoven with evergreens on
churches, houses, and lamp-posts. Scaffolds
were erected from which eloquent speakers
addressed open-air meetings, churches held
services, nnd everybody, young and old,
listened to the Declaration of Independence
read by some Senator, or ex-Governor, or
other distinguished personage. The Sun-
day-schools walked in procession, all the
girls in white, with badges or sashes of the
dear colors we loved, the bo\ s with white
duck trousers, and blue jackets with brass
buttons, and they had badges too. It was
really flue. Soldiers and martial music —
bugles, drums, tiles, playing; their loudest —
picnics, and fire-crackers galore signalized
the day, which was further endeared to
children by cherry-pie at dinner, and ice-
cream following fireworks in the evening.
Tired and happy we went to lied, and we
were confirmed by these delightfully patri-
otic Fourths iu our love of country.
FLOUENCIC and Eva, looking languidly up
at this point, observe that the Fourth iu
these days is too warm for so much exer-
tion.
IT is very much as one looks at it whether
one is to suffer or enjoy most during the
summer. Fretting and fidgeting and vio-
lent fanning add to one's discomfort. To go
right on with one's work, and neither think
nor care for the heat, often enables one to
forget it, and if the mind be only held su-
perior, the body does not so much mind be-
ing too warm or too cold. Some foolish
people actually fuss and fume themselves
into fevers, when summer is reigning in her
bounty, ripening fruits and grains, and giv-
ing us her splendid skies and sunsets.
To keep the house cool in July, air it
thoroughly in the early morning, then close
the windows and screen doors, and darken
bedrooms and parlors. A dark closed room
will be comfortable at mid-day. Select a
cool window, or a corner of the veranda,
and carry your books and sewing there, or
establish yourself under a tree. Eat cold
di-hes and ripe fruit. Fan moderately.
Do not drink quantities of iced water. Do
not let yourself be annoyed or vexed with
any one. Bathe at least twice a day, and
think pleasant thoughts.
A LAWX PARTY is charming for a late af-
ternoon iu summer. Invite your friends to
come from five to eight o'clock. .Spread
rugs on the grass, and bring out some small
tables and rocking-chairs. For refresh-
ments have lemon sherbet, sponge-cake,
ice-cream, snow-pudding, iced tea or coffee,
thin sandwiches, or anything else you like.
Play lawn-tennis or croquet, or any other
game you choose.
I
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HARPER'S NEW CATALOGUE,
Thoroughly revised, classified, and indexed, will be sent
by mail to any address on receipt of ten cents.
The Intersckolastic Sport Department of HARPER'S ROUND
TABLE will be as full of matter interesting to its present readers
during the summer months as it is now. Many will go to dis-
tant summer resorts where there may be no newsdealer. To
insure the prompt receipt of the paper each week, send the ac-
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683
HAKPER'S BOUND TABLE
BICYCLING
Copyright, 1S95, by Harper A Brothers.
This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will he pleased to
answer any question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly
supplied from tlie othVial miios and road-books of the League of American Wheelmen. Recoe-
nizi-'i,' the value of the work being done by the L A. W., the Editor will be pleased to furnish
subscribers with membership blanks and Information BO far us possible.
THE COURSE THIS WEEK to be described is the third stage
from New York to Albany 011 a reasonably slow plan
of movement. Tlie first two trips, which have already been
described iu the ROUND TABLE, are from New York to Tar-
ry town, and from Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie. The third
stage then continues from Poughkeepsie to Hudson, a dis-
tance of somewhat over forty miles. Starting from the
Nelson House, at Poughkeepsie, at the top of the hill running
up from the river, the rider runs out of Poughkeepsie on
the Albany Post Road to Albany, following tlie telegraph
wires six miles to Hyde Park. From this point the run up
to Blue Stores, altogether twenty-six or twenty-seven iiiilrs,
the road cannot be mistaken, and over these twenty-seven
miles it is as fine a stretch of bicycling journey as one
could well desire. There are almost no hills, with the ex-
ception of a small stretch, which is rolling country and not
difficult. The Madeline House at Red Hook is a good rest-
ing-place, and the rider on the journey passes through
Staatsburg, Rhiuebeck. Red Hook, Upper Red Hook, Clere-
mout, and thence, after a two-mile run, enters Blue Stores.
From this point on to Hudson, a distance of eleven or twelve
miles, there are more hills, though no very bad ones, and
the road is not so good. It is six and three-quarter mile*
to McKinstryville. On leaving Blue Stores the rider should
keep to the left around the hotel, and the road is then di-
rect to McKinstryville The road-bed is of clay, and is.
rather poor, though it improves as you approach McKiustry-
ville. Out of McKiustryville the road runs direct to Hud-
son, about five miles away. It is sandy, with occasional
bits of loam, and is by no means as good riding as from
Poughkeepsie to Blue Stores.
IT WILL BE NOTICED by looking at the map that the, best
bicycle route, which is, of course, the Albany Post Road,
keeps on the higher ground, somewhat back from the river,
after leaving Staatsburg. This is the road that is, on the
whole, wiser for the wheelman to take. It is, however, pos-
sible, and to one who is anxious to see the country and the
places of historic interest, it would perhaps be more plea-
sant to turn to the left about two and a half to three mile*
out of Staatsburg, and run down to the river on the road
marked as a fair bicycle road. This route can be followed
without description by carefully studying the map. It
keeps the Hudson in view most of the time, passes through
Rhiuecliffe, Barrytown, Annandale, Tivoli, East Camp, Ger-
luautowu, North Germautowu, Burden, Catskill Station,
and runs into Hudson near the two best hotels in the town
—the Worth House and the Hotel Lincoln. Furthermore,
if the rider is making a trip to Albany by much slower
stages, and thus giving himself time to make somewhat ex-
tended detours, he can stop along this road at Rhineclitt'e,
at Tivoli, and at Catskill Station, and make short trips
across the river and into the country on the other side.
Indeed, if the time is at his disposal, this is much the most,
interesting method to follow, and any wheelman who plans
to take the Albany trip is vigorously urged to make it a
matter of a week rather than of two or three days. There
are good hotels at Tivoli ; the Blue Stores Hotel at Blue
Stores is a reasonably comfortable stopping-place. The
points of especial interest along the way are Vassar Col-
lege (1); Hudson River State Hospital (2); St. Stephens
College (3) ; North Bay, where the first steamboat was
built by Fulton and Livingston (4); New York State Re-
formatory for Women (5).
NOTE. — Map of New York city asphalted streets in Nn. 809. Mnp of
route from New York to Tarrytown in No. S10. New York to Stamford,
Connecticut, in No. Sll. New York to Staten Island in No. S12. New
Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814.
Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Nortbport in No. S16t
Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie iu No. 81T.
684
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
[STAMPS
This Devirtmcnt is ,-,,n,iuc(nl in tlie interest ,,f ,t*ui\: ,,,,,1 ,.„]„
cc.llt-eti.rs, and the Editor will be pleased to auswtjr liny question on
these subjects so far as possible. Correspi.udenu shuulil :i.l
SUunp Department.
THIS Department is conducted in tlie in-
terest of the readers ofHARPEn's ROUND
TABLE — (l)*To give the im/i<>!'t<nit stamp
uews of the day; (2) to assist the yumm
collectors to collect intiili/n'iithi by giving
them hints on those subjects which are usu-
ally so difficult to understand, such as pn-
foratious, water-marks, papers, colors, meth-
ods of manufacture, varieties of dies, and
the care and nuiiuigement of their philatelic
treasures: (3) to aus\ver questions in this
column, or by letter, provided a stumpi-d
and addressed envelope bt; enclosed with
the inquiry. I hope, however, all collectors
will provide themselves with a catalogue,
sold by all stamp-dealers, as this will iu it-
self answer such questions as " What is the
value of a U. S. stamp *"
MOJ.LIK DAVIS. — The stamp i& catalogued at 2c.
LANTIE V. BLUM.— I advise young collectors always
to buy stamps from well-knowu, respectable dealers.
See our advertising columns for names.
C. P. MuKiLi.opp.— The lOc. green U. S. 1851 unper-
formed is worth OU to T5 cents. The same stamp per-
forated is worih 25 cents. The lOc. 1861 is worth 5
cunts; tbe smile stamp ^rillc-il is \vorl h 40 cents. The
6c. Lincoln 1STO, grilled, is worth $4, but without grill
2 cents.
F. G. CLAPI* — The Richmond stamp is a fraud.
Look a litlle sharper, and you will flnd the 2o. curivni
issue with a white line inside the frame of the triangle
There is a new issue of I". S. envelopes. The waler-
iniirk has been changed.
L. II.— The gold coin has no premium, owing to the
monogram. 1 should prefer to see [he Blo.id, Boyd,
and Boutou stamps before making any definite an.
swer, as you do not give the dates of the letters to
which they are affixed.
MUKUAY CAMPIIELL — The various Confederate bills
are worth very little. Tbe stamp -dealers sell them
very cheaply.
E. P. Tuu'p.— The revenue-stamp is worth 2 cents.
The Ic. 1S51 without the outer line at the bottom, and
the same stamp perforated I.1S56' with the line are the
scarce varieties.
ROY THOMPSON.— There is no premium on the frac-
tional currency used during the war, unless it is per-
t<vtly fresh and has never been circulated.
C. G. ATHKRTON.— Sverige means Sweden. The
French stamp is a revenue, not a postage-stamp. The
Brazil is a newspaper-stamp.
! E. C. CKOSKTT.— The scarce variety of the 7c. 1810
|TJ. S. is the one without the line around the inner cir-
cles of the bulb.
J. K.— The Kew-Kiaui:, Wuhu, etc., are Chinese lo-
cal stamps, and were issued primarily to sell to collec-
tors. 1 would not advise buying them, as, speaking
philatelically, they are simply trash.
A. E. BAKBOW.— English stamps surcharged I. R. — I
Official, are simply official stamps used for govern-
mental mail matter. The blue, green, and red "Jen-
kins Camden Despatch " are either reprints or counter-
feits. In either case they are of no value. The New
Zealand and Confederates mentioned by you are all
catalogued regularly.
A. B. JOHNSON.— The 1882 re-engraved of U. S. 1S70
have most of their lines deepened. It is almost ini-
povsible to explain by words, but a single look at the
originals and the re-engiaved will show you once for
all the difference. The embossing of the U. S. stumps
was made on the supposition that the cancellation of
an embossed stamp would make it impossible to use
the stamp a second time. Possibly it would do so if
the embossing were strong enough to ph-rce the stump
with numerous holes, but practically the idea was a
failure Clear embossing may be measured by a milli-
;metre scale. PHILATUS.
IVORY SOAP
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An experienced laundress will tell you that shirts
never look as white as when washed with Ivory Soap.
THE PROCTER It GAMBLE Co.. OlN'ti.
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it, too. A delicious drink, a temperance drink, a |
home-made drink, a drink that delights the old and *
young. Be sure and get the genuine
MIRES' I
Rootbeer I
A 25 cent package makes 5 calicos. Sold everywhere.
The Chas. E. Hires Company, Philadelphia, Pa. *
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^catilopie of ln<>o Bftrgainafor lOo. Torfoittev.
-^INGERSOLL k BRO.. 65 Cortlandt street N. T
BOOKS FOR SUMMER READING
From Harper's Young People Series.
Illustrated. Post 8ro, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 •>.">
The Mystery of Abel Forefinger.
DRYSDALE.
By WILLIAM
Raftmates. — Canoemates. — Campmates. —
Dorymates. By KIRK MUNROE.
Young Lucretia, and Other Stories, By '
E. WlLKINS.
A Boy's Town. By \V D. HOWELLS.
Diego Pinzon. By J. R. CORYEI.L.
Illustrated. Square Kimo, Cloth, Ornatiifiifiif. $ 1 1H> <<u-lt :
Wakulla. — The Flamingo Feather. — Derrick
Sterling. — Chrystal. Jack & Co., and Delta
Bixby. By KIRK MTNROE.
The Talking Leaves. — Two Arrows. — The Red
Mustang. By \V. O. STODDARD.
Prince Lazybones, and Other Stories. By Mrs.
\V. J. HAYS.
The Ice Queen. By ERNEST INGERSOLL.
Uncle Peter's Trust. By GEORGE B. PEKRY.
Toby Tyler. — Mr. Stubbs's Brother. — Tim and
Tip. — Left Behind. — Raising the " Pearl. "-
Silent Pete. By J AMI^ ( ) i is.
The Four Macnicols. By \VII.LIAM BLACK.
The Lost City, — Into Unknown Seas. l',\
DAVIH KEK.
The Story of Music and Musicians. — Jo's
Opportunity. — Rolf House. — Mildred's Bar-
gain, and Other Stories. — Han. — The
Colonel's Money. — The Household of Gten
Holly. By IACY C. I.ILLIE.
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.
• Fur sate by ait booksellers^ or will be limited bit the publishers, /> itceipt c/ tf>>
687
JULY.
said
Mary,
^^*^
;*'••*;*- '
THE "FOURTH."
PlIII.ANDKR BUIGGS PBF.THOTED THAT 1113 PVKOTBOHN1O OVCLE WOULD BE T1IE
SENSATION OF THE DAY. Ar<D IT WAS.
FOURTH OF
"ELL,"
Auut
" so the Fourth of
July is here again.
How many fiugers do
you expect it to leave
you with, Tommy?"
"Ten," answered
Tommy, promptly. "I
didn't know there was
anything about the
Fourth of July to
make extra fiugers
sprout out ou a boy's
hand."
" There isn't any-
thing about it that is
apt to increase the
number of a boy's lin-
gers; but there is
something about it
that makes it a good
time for a boy to get rid of any extra or superfluous fingers
lie may have. Bursting cannon aud big tire-crackers are
very serious things for fingers."
"Well, I haven't any fingers that I want to get rid of,"
said Tommy.
" Of course you know what the Fourth of July commem-
orates ?" remarked Aunt Mary.
"The signing of the Declaration of Independence," an-
swered Tommy, promptly.
"Yes. Now suppose it had been signed the 15th of
January, what sort of a Fourth of July do you suppose that
would have made?"
" Too cold — suo\v would put out the fire-crackers," re-
plied Tommy.
" Just what Thomas Jefferson said," returned Auut Mary.
"Charles Carroll of Carrolltou wanted to sigu it on the
l.'ilh of January, but Jeffersou said, 'That's no time for fire-
crackers. The snow will make 'em sputter aud go out. We
owe something to posterity.' "
" Now, Aunt Mary," broke in Tommy, " I believe you —
" Listen," went ou Auut Mary. " Listen, aud learn about
history. 'I think it will do well enough,' said Charles
Carroll of Carrollton. 'Fire-crackers are dangerous things.
Let posterity go sleigh-riding ou the glorious loth of
January, and make a noise by cracking the whip. Besides,
Thomas A. Edison will soou invent snow-proof fire-crack-
ers.'"
" Aunt Mary—"
" Dou't interrupt me, Tommy. ' No,' said Jeffersou, ' Sep-
tembrr is the time. We'll sigu it on the 27th of September.
Think of the glorious '27th ! How the cauuou will boom,
and the rockets whiz, aud — : 'I wou't agree to put it off'
a moment beyond the 22d of February,' said Charles Carroll
of Carrollton. 'That won't do,' answered Thomas Jefferson.
'That's the birthday of the father of his country. Two
holidays rolled into one wouldn't be the thing. People
would celebrate too hard. I'm willing to make it the 13th
of August.' 'Let's settle ou the 10th of March,' replied
Charles Carroll of Carrolltou. ' Thirty-first of July,' said
Jefferson. ' Fourteenth of April,' answered Carroll. They
finally compromised on the 4th of July."
"What history did
you study 1" asked
Tommy, as the best
way of exposing his
aunt's romancing.
"All of the good
ones," she answered.
"Smith's, aud Brown's,
and Thompson's, and
Robinson's, and Jones's.
Wherever I found a
good fact I picked it
up. I was always very
fond of facts when I
went to school. Did
you ever hear about the
dispute Thomas Jeffer-
son and Charles Car-
roll of Carrollton had
when they came to
write aud sigu the Dec-
laration of Independ-
ence I"
"No," said Tommy, wondering what his aunt would say
next.
" They had quite a little tiff. Jefferson, you see, wanted
to have it written on a typewriter, aud —
" But, Aunt, the typewriter wasn't invented then."
"That's just what Charles Carroll of Carrollton told him.
But Jefferson insisted on calling in the janitor, and having
it invented while they waited. ' Posterity can' never read
my handwriting,' said Jefferson. 'Besides, my fountain-
pen wou't work to-day; you know how it is with these
fountain-pens — some days ink will shoot out of them like
water out of a garden hose, and other times you can't get
it out with a corkscrew.'"
" Why didn't Charles Carroll of Carrolltou tell Jefferson
that fountain-pens weren't invented either ?" asked Tommy.
" I don't think he knew it. A great many people then
thought that fountain-pens were invented. Aud then they
talked a long time, aud Thomas Jefferson tried to get
Benjamin Fraukliu to set it up in type aud print it, but lie
said he had to go fishing with his kite that afternoon for
electricity aud so couldn't; aud then the others sided in
with Charles Carroll of Carrolltou, and Jefferson had to
write it after all, with a quill pen, aud with saud to dry
the ink with instead of blotting-paper, because the man
who had promised to invent blotting-paper had joined the
army aud gone off to fight the British. So you see, Tommy,
the men that wrote aud signed the Declaration of Indepen-
dence had their troubles. But you ought, to be thankful
that they did it in July instead of January."
Tommy thought a inomeut, aud then said, "Yes, I am ;
but if they'd doue it about six weeks earlier it would have
given us a holiday while there was school, and 1 think
that's a pretty good time for holidajs."
A GIIAND DISPLAY.
WHEN I witness the destruction of famed cities of the past
Reproduced in pyrotechnics ou a scale superb and vast.
How their ineffectual tires pale in potent power to charm
Before that dollar-twelve assortment dad once set off' at
the farm!
688
«
HARPEKS
ROUND TABLE
JWF
Copyright, 1895, by HABFKE & BROTHERS. AH Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 819.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JULY 9, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
THE RALEIGH REDS.
BY JULIANA CONOVER.
" 1 TTENTION! Right dress! Front! Order arms!
J\ Carry arms ! Present arms ! Right shoulder arms !
Carry arms! Stand straighter, Billy. Can't you fellows
keep iu line? Right face! Left face! About face! Oh,
all right, I won't go ou with the drill if you dou't try
Larder than that."
" Lot us oft' this afternoon, Tommy 1 There's a good fel-
low," begged Billy Atkins, a fat little chap of twelve, \vln>,
between the, heat and his exertions to keep his round
body erect, was nearly used up.
•• Vou won't ever learn to drill decently, then," answered
the discouraged Sergeant.
" Oh, yes, we will, iu double-quick time ; but it is so hot,
and we all want to be in good shape for to-morrow.''
" What do you say, fellows 1" asked Tommy, turning to
the other panting recruits.
"Let's stop," they all responded, briskly, "and try to fix
up some scheme for the Fourth."
"Very well," answered the Sergeant, a little reluctantly.
" I did want to try the bayonet exercise ; but I suppose we
can do that some other time." Then drawing himself up
iu true martial style: " Port arms ! Dismissed!"
The boys took instant advantage of the command, and
hastily stacking their arms, they squatted on the grass to
try aud cool off by means of mumble-the-peg and a dis-
cussion of Fourth-of-July plans.
Tom Porter, aged twelve, had spent a year at a military
academy, and had come home for his summer holidays
burning with military ardor, and primed with tactics
from the latest manual of arms.
He soon h'red the ambition of the other boys, and in. a
week had organized a company — or " squad," as he decided
it really was — composed of ten raw recruits and a band of
two, mustered under the banner of the Raleigh Reds.
They drilled faithfully day after day under the command
of their enthusiastic Sergeant, and the discordant sounds
from the fife and drum became a nuisance to the neighbor-
hood.
But now that the novelty of the drill was wearing off,
the boys began, to pine for active service, aud wild plans
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
pf campaigns, with long marches, bloody liattlcs, and glori-
ous victories, floated through Tommy's brain as he nightly
revolved the future of tlie Raleigh Reds.
"Well. In'"' are we going to celebrate the Fourth?1'
asked Billy Atkins, throwing down tbe knife in disgust,
after failing ignominioiisly in the delicate operation known
as "eating oysters." "It's no fun just inarching at the
tail end of a parade."
"We might make another raid on old Jones's cattle,"
suggested Herbert Day ; " \M- know a lot more tactics and
maniriivres now."
"Not much, unless Tommy teaches us some slick barbed-
wire-fener drill." said Dick. " I'ui on my last pair of
trousers."
"That irax a pretty big fizzle," Tommy said, shaking his
head. " And how they did jolly me at home ! Did you
ever hear the poem my sister wrote about it?"
"No ; -what was ii .'"
" Well, it was sort of like ' Half a League,' only different,
about us, instead of tbe ' Six Hundred.' It's pretty good,"
modestly.
'• Can't you say it. ?" asked Herbert.
"Yes, go ahead, Tommy," chimed in the others.
Tommy blushed. It seemed conceited to recite his sis-
ter's \ erseSj and yet he was genuinely proud of them.
" It's a grind on us, you know," he said, waruiugly.
"Oh. tlial's all right; we're used to it; lire away."
Thus pressed, Tommy began :
" ' Half a mile, half a mile,
Dust-choked and solemn,
Straight for old Jones's field
Marched the brave column.
"Forward, the Raleigh Red!
dun-ire for the bull !" he said.
Into the grazing herd
Marched tin- firm column.
" ' Forward the squad brigade.'
"That's -wrong, you know," he stopped to explain, "but
Alice wouldn't change it; she said it didn't matter."
" It doesn't a bit." Dick answered. "Go on; it's great!"
" ' i'urward the squad brii:.
Went on Tommy.
" ' Was there a man afraid ?
Not though the privates knew
Jones's bull's bad manners.
Theirs not to make a row,
Theirs nut. to question how,
Theirs but to charge the cow,
Into the grazing hei d
Marehed the red banners.
'"Cows to the right of them.
Cows to the left of them,
Cows still in front of them,
Peacefully chewing.
<ia/cd at in wild surprise,
Boldly, with steady eyes,
Marehed on at double-quick
Shouting their battle-cries,
To their undoing.'
" ' Whisked all the tails so bare.
Whisked in the sultry air,
Staring, as cows do stare.
Chewing the cud the while.
When from the close ranks
Broke forth a muffled beat.
Not of bass drums, but feet,
Jersey and Alderney
Gazed on this mad retreat,
<!.i/ed on the gav pranks
Of the old bull, 'who had
Broken the phalanx.
" ' Fence to the right of them,
Fence to the left of them,
Jones's bull behind them,
Tawing and bellowing.
What need commands to tell?
Boldly they ran and well,
Not one small private fell.
" • Out of the horns of death,
Sergeant and squad pelhnell,
Through the barbed-wire fence
i 'i au'led the torn column.
When can their glory fade,
Oh, the retreat they made,
All Raleigh applauded !
Honor the Sergeant's feet.
Honor the squad's retreat,
Long be it lauded !' "
"Guy, that's tine!" ejaculated little Billy. "Isn't it,
Dick ?" enthusiastically.
" Slickest thing I've ever heard," answered Dick.
"We did get to that fence quick, and no mistake. And,
George! I woke up every night for a week dreaming that
the old bull was just running his horns into me."
" We'll have to do something to get a better ' rep,' " said
Tommy; "we've done nothing but retreat so far. Old
Farmer Applegate sent us flying, when he had nothing but
cow-hide boots and a pitchfork."
" It was his garden," reflected Fatty Simmons ; " that was
why I ran."
"Well, what are we going to do to-morrow, that's w-hat
I want to know .'" said Jack Green.
"I have it!1' exclaimed the Sergeant, his eyes sparkling.
"The very thing, fellows! I heard Davis and Jim White
talking yesterday (they didn't know I was there), and they
were arranging a scheme for the Fourth, which it would
be dand\ tun to break up."
" What, was it. .'" the others asked, eagerly.
"You know the little cannon in Mr. Scott's field .' be
thinks no end of it; it's. a Revolutionary: relic or Waterloo
or something. Well, those fellows are going to steal it to-
night and have a great time to-morrow. Five of them are
in it."
'• Whew !" whistled Herbert Day. " I shouldn't like to be
in their shoes when Mr. Scott rinds it out ; he'll make it hot
for them ! But how's that going to help us, Tommy ; we're
not in it ?"
" I know ; but what we want to do," answered the Ser-
geant, " is to guard the cannon and spoil their little game.
It would be great to get ahead of Davis for once."
''Wouldn't they punch our heads?" said Billy, doubt-
fully : " they're bigger."
•• I'd like to see them," blustered Fatty ; " we'd run them
through with our bayonets."
" What time did they agree to take the cannon, Tommy ?''
asked Bert.
" After dark, about nine, I suppose. They said they could
drag it across the field to Davis's barn, and that noboiU
would catch on."
"What sport!" chuckled Green. "We'll go early, then,
and form in single tile round the old cannon, and I'd like to
see the man w-ho could take it from us."
•• Mr. Scott has a big mastiff, hasn't he ?" asked Billy.
" What of that ?" scornfully, and Billy was silenced. The
boys forgot their heat and fatigue in their eagerness to pre-
pare for such a great undertaking, and over and over again
the Sergeant's commands rang out: "Load! squad, ready !
aim ! Jirc ! Order arms ! Load ! ready ! aim ! recover arms !
/in .'" etc., for a full hour.
At half past eight that same evening the Raleigh Reds,
with fife and drum silent, marched through the lane leading
to Mr. Scott's field.
" Squad, halt!" was the command when they reached the
fence'. Then after a whispered consultation and a steal! h\
glance, round, lest the enemy might attack them in the rear,
they climbed carefully over the rails, and came down cau-
tiously on the other side.
"Forward, march!" ordered the Sergeant, and his squad
started by twos up the field.
The cannon was mounted at the other end, and the shad-
ows which the moon cast across their path looked to the
boys' excited fancy like figures rising from the ground.
"A little faster step — hep. hep!" urged the Sergeant, as
they lagged. " Double time !" he commanded ; but alas! a
low ferocious growl, followed by a loud bark, caused a sud-
den panic in the dauntless Reds.
690
HARPEE'S ROUND TABLE
"The mastiff!" cried Joe Morris; "cut for your lives!"
"Don't you do it! Charge bayonets!" shouted Tom, dis-
mayed by this breaking of the close-locked ranks. " About
fare !" yelled Fatty Simmons, assuming the command in his
terror: •• quick to the fence, fellows — run !" and as the big
dark object bounded towards them, the squad for the sec-
ond time in its short history took to its heels without
waiting further orders. Before the Sergeant could col-
lect his scattered wits, a rough hand seized him by the col-
lar, and a grim voice said, " I've caught you, hev I ? You'll
just come to Mr. Scott, young man ; he's waitin' for you."
"Call that dog oft'; he'll chew them fellows up," gasped
Tommy, trying to wriggle away from the tight grip.
•• (Sarve 'em right for sneaking in after dark and stealing
the old cannon that's stood here over a hundred years."
•• \Ve didn't steal it," said the indignant Sergeant. " We
came to guard it !"
"To guard it! Well, you didn't have much luck, then,
for it's been gone this half-hour. Mr. Scott, he's in a ter-
rible way about it."
•• My, how early they must have corne !" exclaimed Tom.
"They? Who?"
" Why, the fellows we came to keep from taking it."
And then lie explained to the astonished farmer.
The result was that the "Ealeigh Reds" were recalled,
trembling, from their refuge behind the rail breastwork.
Dom Pedro was quieted down, and the demoralized squad
was marched sheepishly to the house as prisoners of war of
the tall farmer.
Mr. Scott interviewed them, and his anger gave way to
amusement as the boys told, in shamefaced confusion, of
their part in the evening's work.
" What your men need, Captain, is experience," he said ;
"so I will make a bargain with you. If you manage to
bring the cannon baclrby twelve o'clock to-morrow morn-
ing, I will promise to furnish the finest display of fireworks
ever seen in this town, to celebrate the valor of the
' Ealeigh Reds.' "
The boys blushed as crimson as their colors at these
words, but Tom replied, stoutly:
" We'll do it, Mr. Scott. Just see if we don't. I know
we deserve to be locked up in the guard-house for deser-
tion ; but give us one more chance, and if we can't do any-
thing but retreat, and in disorder too, then we'd better
give up the soldier business altogether."
And so Mr. Scott clinched the bargain.
How the little Sergeant racked his brains that night, as
he tossed from side to side, trying to hit upon some plan by
which they could get the field-gun away from its trium-
phant capturers !
It would be no easy matter to drag the heavy cannon so
far e\.-n if they bad a fair field; but when it was held by
the enemy — five big boys — Tommy shook his head in doubt,
for he had no longer confidence in the courage ot his squad.
The more he thought of it, the more he felt convinced
that the only thing to do was to decoy the guard in some
way; but how? Suddenly he sat up in bed and looked out
of the window. It was moonlight, and he could see some
distance through the trees into a large field at the end of
the garden.
"Yes, that will work," he murmured. " I don't want to
do it, but it's the only thing I can think of," and we'vei/oJto
get that field-gun somehow."
So, having at last made up his mind, he turned over and
fell asleep.
"Fire! fire! fire!" clanged the great iron bell, putting
all the toy cannons to shame.
"Fire! fire!" shouted the men and boys as they dropped
their pipes and their fire-crackers, and started in the direc-
tion from which a volume of smoke rose black and dense
against the clear sky. There were not many fires in Ra-
leigh, and this looked like a promising one. From all parts
of the little town the people swarmed, eager for any excite-
ment that would help to celebrate the holiday.
"Now's our chance," whispered Tommy to the "Reds,"
as, ensconced behind a hedge, they watched the crowd as-
semble. " We've got to hustle, for the tire won't last long."
" The fellows are all there, except Jim White," returned
Dick, " and there be comes, puffing like a steam-engine."
"Then we're safe. Have you got the rope all ready,
Billy ?"
" Yes, slip-knot and all;"
" Then come on, fellows."
And the boys east one lingering glance at the crackling
flames, the fire-engine, and the crowd, then turned round
and started heroically in the opposite direction. They
knew well where the cannon was, for had not the victori-
ous party jeered at them from the top of the shed, when,
they went to reconnoitre early in the morning ? They
looked cautiously over the gate of Davis's barn-yard. All
was quiet. They opened the gate, and walked softly in.
Yes, there stood tbe bone of contention, alone, unguarded,
its mouth pointed towards the barn.
"Hurry up, Bert; you understand about putting on the
rope," said the nervous Sergeant, as he watched the smoke
against the sky growing perceptibly less.
"They'll suspect us, sure," replied Joe, "when they find
we're not there."
"Think of missing a fire!" groaned Bert ; "and such a
beauty too !"
By the time the boys were ready to start the smoke had
almost died away, and the shouts had entirely subsided.
" We must fight to-day, fellows, or break up the com-
pany," said Tommy, as they toiled up the field dragging
the gun after them over the rough ground.
" Does Pat Kiuuey know we're coming f" asked Dick.
" Yes ; and he's going to bring Dom Pedro to back us up,"
answered " Fatty," straining away on the rope.
" Lucky for us," said Billy, his spirits rising.
Just as they reached the end of the field where the can-
non always stood, a shout from the fence made them grasp
their arms and fall quickly in line with bayonets fixed.
" Steady !" cried the Sergeant, his knees beginning to
shake — " steady, fellows ; don't run."
On the big boys came. Six or seven of them, headed by
Davis, bearing down on the trembling squad with yells like
wild Indians.
" Steady," said the Sergeant again, and immovable as
the Inchcape Rock the line received the charge.
" Get out of here or we'll break your necks !" cried White,
as the squad closed in round the cannon.
"Throw a pack of big crackers at them." said a rough-
looking boy; "that will break their ranks," and a shower
of fire-crackers followed these words.
Still the squad stood firm.
"All right, then," said Harvey, solemnly; "if you don't
surrender we'll have to wade in and do you up. Won't we,
Davis .'"
" Yield !" shouted Davis, nourishing a big stick; "the
cannon or your life !"
"Come on, "cried the undaunted little Sergeant, a.- a
twenty-five-cent cracker went oft" under his nose. " We'll
never surrender !"
"We'll never surrender!" echoed the rest of the squad,
spurred on to resistance by their leader. "Come on!"
And the next moment the bayonets were shuttered by
the charge, the guns wrenched from the boys' hands, and
down they went on the ground a wriggling mass of arms
and legs.
It began to look very bad for the Raleigh Reds, when, to
their great relief, the reserve force came up on a full gallop,
urged on by the command of, "At 'em, Pedro, at 'em !"
This time Dom Pedro discriminated between his allies
and the foe, for he dashed at Davis with a growl that
struck terror to the stoutest heart.
"Here comes Mr. Scott, boys !" cried White, scrambling
up from Dick's prostrate form ; " we'd better skip ;" and leav-
ing the still uncouquered squad fighting manfully on their
backs, the big boys made for the fence, with Dom Pedro in
hot pursuit.
The Reds picked themselves up, and looked ruefully for
their scattered arms. They were pretty well battered and
broken, but the cannon was safe.
" Fall in," commanded the Sergeant, as Mr. Scott walked
up, holding Pedro by the collar.
691
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"Good for yon. hoys," he said, smiling ; "you held your
own well. I watched from behind the fence, and was de-
lighted with the way you .stood up to those big fellows."
Tommy blushed with pride and pleasure. "They would
have whipped us," he replied, modestly, "if Doni Pedro
hadn't scared them off.''
••At any rate yon brought the field-gnu back, and you
de.-i-rvf git-at rretlit for the way you stuck to your colors.
But what is this that Kiuuey tells me about setting a barn
on fire f"
"It belonged to Tommy," said the others. "It was an
old tool- house which his father gave him to keep our
things in. It made a beautiful fire." Regretfully.
" And you burnt it up just so as to decoy the boys ?" In-
credulously.
"It was the only way to get the cannon," Tommy an-
swered. " And the roof leaked, anyway."
" It certainly was a clever scheme, though rather a risky
one," said Mr. Scott.
" I asked my father," Tommy hastened to explain. "And
first he said no, we mustn't do it, but when I told him that
it was military tactics, and how we wanted to prove to you
that we were not such miserable cowards, he gave in and
said to go ahead."
"Well, you certainly have proved it, and fulfilled your
part of the contract with honor, so now 1 want to do my
part. So you may invite everybody yon want — the whole
town, if you wish — in my name, to a grand exhibition of
fireworks in honor of the Raleigh Reds."
The little Sergeant beamed from ear to ear. " Guy !" he
ejaculated, fervently, "what a slick old time we'll have!"
Then, turning to the smiling and embarrassed line, he cried,
41 Squad, salule .'" aud every hand went up while the de-
moralized fife and drum favored Mr. Scott with their wild-
est and most discordant tones.
Then down the field they marched triumphantly, with
torn banner flying, aud Com Pedro stalking gravely on
ahead.
THE LITTLE MINUTE-MAN.
BY H. G. PAINE.
ALL during the winter Briutou had beeu saying what
he would do if the redcoats came, and grieving be-
cause his age, which was eight, prevented him from going
•with his' father to fight under General Washington.
Every night, w hen his mother tucked him in his bed aud
kissed him good-night, he told her not to be afraid, that he
had promised his father to protect her, aud he proposed to
do it.
His plau of action, in event of the sudden appearance of
the enemy, varied somewhat from day to day, but in general
outline it consisted of a bold show of force at the front
gate and a flank attack by Towser, the dog. Should'these
tactics fail to discourage the British, he intended to retire
behind a stone fort he had built on the lawn, between the
two tall elms, and to fire stones at the invaders until they
fell back in confusion, while his mother would look on aud
encourage him from the front pon-li.
When the redcoats unexpectedly appeared in the distance,
one afternoon in May. what Briutou really did was to run
helter-skelter down the road, up the broad path to the
house, through the front hall into the library, close the
door, aud then peep out of the window to watch them
no by.
When he first caught sight of the soldiers Briutou was
sure that there was at least a regiment of them, but when
they were opposite the front n;i1r all that he could see
•were a corporal aud three privates. Instead of keeping on
their way, however, they turned up the path toward the
house, and then it seemed to Briutou that they were the
most gigautie human beings that he had ever seen.
His mother was away for the day, and had taken Towser
with her. This, together with the fact that the enemy
•were now between him and his fort, entirely spoiled Brin-
tou's plan of campaign, and he decided to seek at once
some more secluded spot, and there to devise something to
meet the changed conditions. But when he started to run
out of the room, he found that in his hurry he had left the
front door open, so that any one in the hall would be in
plain sight of the soldiers, who were now very near.
rnfiirtunately there was no other door by which Briuton
could leave the room. What was worse, there was no closet
in which he could hide. The soldiers were now so close at
hand that he could hear their voices, and a glance through
the window showed him that two of them were going
around to the back of the house, as if to cut off any possi-
ble escape in that direction.
And his mother would not be back until six o'clock. In-
stinctively his eyes sought the face of the tall timepiece in
the corner. It was just three; aud he could hear the sol-
diers' steps on the front porch !
The clock!
Surely there was room within its generous case for a very
small boy.
In less time than it takes to write it Brinton was inside,
aud had turned the button with which the door was fast-
ened. As he pressed himself close against the door, so that
there should be room for the pendulum to swing behind
him, he heard the corporal enter the room. He knew it
must be the corporal, because he ordered the other man to
go np stairs and look around there, while he searched the
room on the other side of the hall.
Briuton could hear the footsteps of the men as they
walked about the house, and their voices as they talked to
each other. Then all was quiet for a long while. He was
just on the point of peeping out, when all four men en-
tered the room.
" \Vfll," said a voice that he recognized as the corporal's,
"it is plain there is no one at 'ome. Me own himpressiou
is that the bird's flown. 'E's probably started back for
camp, aud the wife and the kid with Mm. I don't believe
in payink no hattentiou to Vat them Tories says, nohow,
goiuk back on their own neighbors — and kin, too, like as
not. It's just to curry favor with the hofncers, it's me own
hopiuiou. 'Ow did 'e know the Major was comiuk 'ome
to-day, anyhow ?"
Nobody answered him. Perhaps he didn't expect any
one to.
The Major! Briutou's own father! He was coming
home! This, then, was the surprise that his mother had
said she would bring him when she went off with Towser
in the morning to go to Colonel Shepard's. And now those
redcoats were going to sit there aud wait until he came, and
then — Briutou did uot know what would happen, whether
he would be shot on the spot, or merely put in prison for
the rest of his life.
Oh, if he could only get out and run to meet his father
aud warn him ! But the men seemed to give no signs of
leaving the room.
"Prehaps he haven't come at all yet," suggested one of
the privates.
" Perhaps 'e hasn't," answered the voice of the corporal ;
"but w'y, then, wouldn't his folks be 'ere a-waitink for
'im ? 'Owever, I'll give 'im hevery chance. It's now five-
and-twenty minutes after three. I'll give 'im huutil six,
but if 'e doesn't turn hup by theu, we'll start away for the
shore without 'im."
"Six o'clock!" thought the boy in the clock. The very
time his mother had told him she was going to be home
again " with something very nice for him." And now she
aud his brave papa would walk right into the arms of
these dreadful English soldiers, and he could not stop
them !
11'lniiiy .'
What a noise! It startled Briuton so much that he
nearly knocked the clock over; aud then he realized that
it was only the clock striking half past three.
Half past three! He had beeu in there only half an
hour, aud already he was so tired he could hardly stand
up. How could he ever endure it until four, until half
past four, five, six ?
•• It' ouly something, some accident even, will happen to
detain papa aud mamma!" he thought. But how much
more likely, it occurred to him, that his father, having but
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
a short leave of absence, would hasten, and
arrive before six.
" Tick-took," went the clock.
" Ho\v slow, how very slow!1' thought
Briutou, and he wished there were only
some way of hurrying up the time, so that
tbe soldiers would go away.
Still the soldiers staid in the room, all
but one, who had gone into the kitchen to
watch from there.
"Tick-tock," went the clock, and
" whang - whang - whaug - whang !" Only
four o'clock. Briutou began to fear that
he could not hold out much longer.
" Tick - tock," went the clock. Each
swing of the pendulum marked one second,
Brinton's mother had told him. If he could
only make it swing quicker, so that the
seconds would fly a little faster!
" Why not try to ?" Briutou was on the
point of breaking down. He was desper-
ate. He felt that he must do something.
He took hold of the pendulum and gave it
a little push. It yielded readily to his
pressure. None of the soldiers seemed to
notice it. He gave it another push. The
result was the same. Briutou began to
pick up courage, and he pushed the pen-
dulum to and fro, to and fro, to and fro.
He tried to keep it swinging at a perfect-
ly even rate, and apparently lie succeeded.
At any rate, the soldiers appeared to notice
nothing different. Yet Briutou was sure
that he was causing the old clock to tick
off its seconds at a considerably livelier
gait than usual. Half past four came al-
most before he knew it, but by five o'clock
Briutou began to realize that he was vrry,
very tired. He had already stood absolutr-
ly still iu that cramped, dark, close case',
and he had pushed the pendulum first with
one hand and then with the other in that
narrow space until both felt sore and lame.
Yet now that he had once begun, he did
not dare leave off, and still it did not seem
possible that he could keep it up.
The soldiers had kept very quiet for a long time.
ton thought that two of them must be napping.
At five o'clock the soldier who was awake aroused the
corporal and the other private, whom the corporal seut to
relieve the man on guard in the kitcheu.
" I must 'ave slept mighty sound," remarked the cor-
poral. "I'd never believe I'd been asleep an hour, if I
didn't see it hon the clock."
"No soigus av any wan yit," reported the man who had
been iu the kitchen, whom Brinton judged to be an Irish-
man. " Be's ye going to wait till six ?"
"Yes, " answered the corporal. "But, no longer."
Then they began talking about the British fleet that was
cruising in Long Island Sound, aud about the ship on which
they were temporarily quartered until they could .join the
main body of the army, and how a neighbor of Brinton's
father's aud mother's had been down at the store when a
ship's boat had put in for water, and how he had told the
officer in charge that Major Hall, Briutou's father, was ex-
pected home for a few hours that day. and what a fine op-
portuuity it would be to make an important capture.
The clock struck half past live.
" H'm !'' grunted the corporal. "It doesn't seem that
late; but, you know, you can't tell anythiuk about auy-
think in this blaisted country."
Briuton now began to be very much afraid that his fa-
ther would come before the soldiers left. He wanted to
move the pendulum faster aud faster, but after what the
corporal had said he did not dare to. Then, when the. men
lapsed into silence, it suddenly came over Brinton how
dreadfully weary be was, how all his boues ached, and how
much, how very much, he wanted to cry. But he felt that
Brin-
THE MINUTE-MAN TAKES HIS POSITION.
his father's only chance of safety lay in his keeping the
pendulum swinging to and fro, to aud fro.
At last, however, came the welcome sound of the corpo-
ral's voice bidding the men get ready to start.
Whang- whaug- whang- whaug- whang- whang!
" Fall iu !" ordered the corporal. " Forward, march !"
As the sound of their footsteps died away, Briutou, all of
a tremble, opened the door of the clock aud stumbled out.
He knelt at the window and watched the retreating
forms of the redcoats. As they disappeared down the road
he heard a noise behind him, aud jumped up with a start.
There stood his father!
The uext instant Briuton was sobbing iu his arms.
Brinton's mother came into the room. "Dear rue!" she
said; "what ever can be the matter with the clock? It's
half au hour fast."
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.*
BY KIRK M U X R O E.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
BIG AMOOK AND THE CHILKAT HUNTERS.
A GOAT is a good thing so far as it goes." remarked
Phil, gravely, " but one goat divided among one
man, two boys, a 'little chap, and three awfully hungry
dogs isn't likely to last very long. With plenty of goats
ready to come and be killed as we wanted them, we might
hold out here, after a fashion, until the arrival of a tourist
* Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 801.
690
HAKPER'S ROUND TABLE
steamer. Wouldn't that be fun, though ? And -wouldn't
we astonish the tourists? «But how we should hate goat
by that time! Still, I don't think there is the slightest
chance of our having that, experience, for I understand
that the, mountain-goats are among the shyest and most
difficult to kill of all wild animals.
"Which being the case," continued Phil, "it won't do
I'"]- us to lire as though we had goats to squander. Conse-
quently, we must make an effort to get out of here before
our provision is exhausted. As we have no boat in which
to go to Sitka, and the nearest point at which we can ob-
tain one is Chilkat. that is the place we .have got to reach
somehow. So I propose that Serge and I take a prospect-
ing trip into the mountains to-morrow and see what chance
there is for onr crossing them."
As no better plan than this was offered, Phil and Serge
started early the following morning on their tedious climb.
Each carried a gun, and they took Musky and Luvtuk with
them in the hope of getting a bear, as Serge had heard that
bears were plentiful in those mountains. Nel-te was left
to takc> care of the hospital, in which Jalap Coombs, with
Ins many aches, and Amook, with his cut feet, were the
patients.
That afternoon was so warm that the door of the little
cabin stood wide open. Before a fire that smouldered on the
broad hearth Jalap Coombs dozed in a big chair, while
Nel-te romped with Amook on the floor. Now the little
chap was tantalizing the dog with the fur-seal's tooth,
which, still attached to its buckskin thong, he had taken
from his neck. He would dangle it close to Amook's nose,
and when the dog snapped at it, snatch it away with a
shout, of laughter.
While the occupants of the cabin were thus engaged the
heads of several Indians were suddenly but cautiously
lifted above the beach ridge. After making certain that
no one was in the vicinity of the bouse, one of their num-
ber swiftly but noiselessly approached it. Crouching un-
der a side wall, he slowly raised his head.
This Indian was one of a party of Chilkat hunters who
had come to Glacier Bay in pursuit of hair seals, which iu
the early spring delight to float lazily about on the drift-
ing ice-cakes. They had camped at the mouth of Muir
Inlet the night before, and during the day had slowly
hunted tbeir way almost to the foot of the great glacier.
While there they discovered a thin spiral of smoke curling
from the cabin chimney. This so aroused their curiosity
that they determined to investigate its cause. They im-
agined that some of the interior Indians, who were strictly
forbidden by the Chilkats to visit the coast, had disobeyed
orders, and come to this unfrequented place to surrepti-
tiously gather in a few seals. In that case the hunters
would immediately declare war, and the prospect of scalps
caused their stolid faces to light and their dull eyes to
glitter.
When it was discovered that a white man was in the
cabin, the Indians were greatly disappointed, but concluded
to withdraw without allowing him to suspect their presence,
for the Chilkats have no love, for white men. But for
Nel-te and Amook they would have succeeded in this, and
our travellers would never have known of their dusky visi-
tors, or the chance for escape offered by their canoes.
If the fur-seal's tooth had been able to speak just then,
it would have said, " I am disgusted with the ways of white
people. In their hands I am treated with no respect.
They lose nir and find me again with indifference. They
even give me to children and dogs as a plaything. How
different was my position among the noble Chilkats! By
their Shamans and chiefs I was venerated ; by the common
people I was feared: while all recognized my extraordi-
nary powers. To them I am determined to return."
With this the fur-seal's tooth, which was at that mo-
ment dangling from Nel-te's hand, gave itself such a vig-
orous forward swing, that Amook was able to seize the
buckskin thong, which immediately slipped into a secure
place between two of his sharp teeth. As Nel-te attempted
to snatch back his plaything, the dog sprang up and darted
from the open doorway.
At that moment the Indian who had inspected the cabin
was just disappearing over the beach ridge. At sight of
him Amook uttered a yelp, and started in pursuit. The
Indian heard him, and ran. He sprang into the canoe, al-
ready occupied by his fellows, and shoved it oft" as Amook,
barking furiously, gained the water's edge. Lying a few
feet away, and resting on their paddles, the Indians taunted
him. Suddenly one of their number called attention to
the curious white object dangling from the dog's mouth.
They gazed at it with ever -increasing excitement, and
finally one of them began to load his gun with the inten-
tion of shooting the dog, and so securing the coveted trophy
that so miraculously appeared hanging from his jaws. Ere
he co'uld carry out his cruel intention little Nel-te appeared
over the ridge in hot pursuit of his playmate. Without
paying the slightest heed to the Indians he ran to the dog,
disengaged the buckskin thong from his teeth, slipped it
over his own head, tucked the tooth carefully inside his
little parka, and started back toward the cabin. Amook
followed him, while the Indians regarded the whole trans-
action with blank amazement.
Both Nel-te and Amook regained the cabin, and were en-
gaged in another romp on its floor before Jalap Coombs
awoke from his nap. An hour later, when he was sur-
prised by the appearance of half a dozen Indians before,
the door, he thrust the child and dog behind him, and
standing in the opening, axe in hand, boldly faced the new-
comers. Iu vain did they talk, shout, point to Nel-te, and
gesticulate. The only idea they conveyed to the sailor-
man was that, they had come to carry Cap'u Kid back to
the wilderness.
" Which ye sha'u't have him, ye bloody pirates! Not so
long as old Jalap can swing an axe !" he cried, at length
wearied of their vociferations and slamming the door in
their faces.
In spite of this the Indians were so determined to attain
their object, that they were planning for an attack on the
cabin, when all at once there came a barking of other dogs,
and, looking in that direction, they saw two more white
men, armed with guns, coining rapidly toward them.
"Hello iu the house! Are you safe? What is the
meaning of this ?" cried Phil, in front of the closed door.
"Ay, ay, sir!" replied Jalap -Coombs, joyfully, flinging
it open. " We're safe enough so far ; but them black
swabs overhauled us awhile ago, and gave out as how
they'd got to have Cap'n Kid. I double-shotted the guns,
stationed the crew at quarters, and returned reply that
they couldn't have him ; then they run up the black-flag
and allowed they'd blow the ship out of water. With
that I declined to hold further communication, cleared for
action, and prepared to repel boarders."
In the mean time Serge was talking to the natives in
Chinook jargon. .Suddenly he exclaimed :
" They are Chilkats, Phil, and they want something that
they seem to think is in Nel-te's possession."
" In Nel-te's possession F repeated Phil, in a puzzled tone.
•'What can they mean? I don't see how they can know
anything about Nel-te, anyway. They can't, mean the fur-
seal's tooth, can they?"
"That is exactly what they do mean !" replied Serge.
after asking the natives a few more questions. "They say
it is hanging about his neck, inside of his parka."
"How long have these people been here, Mr. (' >oml>s ?"
queried Phil.
" Not more 'n ten minutes."
" Have they seen Nel-te ?"
"No, for he hain't been outside the door."
" Could they have seen him at any time during the day .'"
"Not without me knowing it; for he hain't left my side,
sence you boys went away."
" Then it is more certain than ever that there is magic
connected with the fur-seal's tooth, and that the Chilkats
are iu some, way involved in it. How else could they pos-
sibly have known that it was in onr possession, just where
to find us, and, above all, the exact position of the tooth at
this moment ?"
" It surely does look ridicerlous," meditated Jalap
Coombs ; while Serge said he was glad Phil was becoming
so reasonable and willing to see things in a true light.
094
HAKPEE'S BOUND TABLE
"How did these fellows get here ?'' asked Phil.
" They say they came iu cauoes," replied Serge.
" Ask them if they will take us to Sitka, provided we
will give them the fur-seal's tooth."
"Xn : the Indians could uot do that."
" Will they give us a canoe in exchange for it?"
" They say they will," replied Serge, " if we will go with
them to their village aud allow their Shamau (medicine-
man) to examine the tooth, and see whether or not it is the
genuine article."
•• \Vcm't that be awfully out of our way f"
"Yes. I should think about seventy-five miles; but
then we may find a steamer there that will take us to
Juueau, or even to Sitka itself."
" It would certainly he better than staying here," re-
flected Phil. " And I know that neither Serge nor I want
to try the mountain trail again after what we have seen
to-day. So I vote for going to Chilkat."
" So do I," assented Serge.
" Same here," said Jalap Coombs ; " though ef anybody
lind told me half an hour ago I'd been shipping for a
cruise along with them black pirates before supper-time,
I'd sartainly doubted him. It only goes to prove what my
old friend Kite Roberson useter say, which were, 'Them as
don't expect nothing is oftenest surprised.'"
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE THEACHEROUS SHAMAN OF KLUKWAN.
So delighted were the Chilkat hunters to know that they
were to have the honor of conveying the fur-seal's tooth
back to their tribe, that they wished to start at once. The
whites, however, refused to go before morning, and so the
Indians returned down the inlet to their camp of the pre-
ceding night, where they would cache what seals they had
obtained in order to make room iu the cauoes for their un-
expected passengers. They agreed to be back by day-
light.
After they were gone, aud our travellers had disposed of
their simple but highly appreciated meal of goat meat aud
tea, they gathered about the fire for the last of those
" dream-bag talks," as Phil called them, that had formed so
pleasant a feature of their long journey. Without saying a
word, but with a happy twinkle in his eyes, Jalap Coombs
produced a pipe and a small square of tobacco, which he
began with great care to cut into shavings.
" Where on earth did you get tlirni?'' asked Phil.
"Found the pipe in yonder rubbish," replied the sailor-
man : ''and C'ap'n Kid give me the 'baccy just now."
" Nel-te gave you the tobacco! Where did be get it ?"
" Dunuo. I were too glad to get it to ask questions."
" Well," said Phil, " the mysteries of this place are be-
yond finding out."
"This one isn't," laughed Serge; "though I suppose it
would be if I hadn't happened to see one of the Indians
slip that bit <>(' toliarro into Xel-te's hand."
"What could have been his object iu giving such a
thing as that to a child ?"
" Oh, the Chilkat children use it as well as their elders ;
aud I suppose he wanted to gain Nel-te's good-will, seeing
that he is the guardian of the fur-seal's tooth. I shouldn't
be surprised if he hoped in some way t.o get it from the
child before we reached the village."
•• Which suggests an idea," said Phil, removing the
trinket in question from Nel-te's neck and handing it to
Serge. " It is hard to say just who the tooth does belong-
to now, it has changed hands so frequently, but it will be
safer for the next day or two with you than anywhere else.
Besides, it is only fair that, as it came directly from the
Chilkats to you, or, rather, to your father, you should have
the satisfaction of restoring it to them."
So Serge accepted from Phil the mysterious bit of ivory
that he had given the latter more than a year before in
distant New London, and hung it about his neck.
"Last night," said Phil, after this transfer had taken
place, "Mr. Coombs and I only needed a pipeful of tobacco
and a knowledge of how we were to escape from here to
make us perfectly happy. Now we have both."
"The blamed pipe won't draw at all," growled Jalap
Coombs.
"While I," continued Phil, "am bothered. I know we
must go 4vith those fellows, but I don't trust them, and
shall feel uneasy so long as we are iu their power."
"Do you think," asked Serge, "that these things go to
prove that there isn't any such thing in this world as per-
fect happiness?"
"No," answered Phil; "only that it is extremely rare.
How is it with you, old man? Does the approaching end
of our journey promise you perfect happiness?"
"No indeed!" cried Serge, vehemently. " In spite of its
hardships, I have enjoyed it too much to be glad that it is
nearly ended. But most of all, Phil, is the fear that its
end means a parting from you ; for I suppose you will go
right on to San Francisco, while I must stay behind."
"I'm afraid so," admitted Phil. " But, at any rate, old
fellow, this journey has given me one happiness that will
last as long as I live, for it has given me your friendship,
and taught me to appreciate it at its true worth."
"Thank you. Phil," replied Serge, simply. "I value
those words from you more than I should from any one
else in the world. Now, I want to tell you what I have to
thank the journey for besides a friendship. I believe it
has shown me what is to be my life-work. You know that
missionary at Auvik said he was more in need of teachers
than anything else. While I don't know very much, I do
know more than those Indian and Eskimo boys, and I did
enjoy teaching them. So, if I can get my mother to con-
sent, I am going back to Anvik as soon as I can and offer
my services as a teacher."
"It is perfectly splendid of you to think of it," cried
Phil, heartily, "and all I can say is that the boys who get
you for a teacher are to be envied."
So late did the lads sit up that night talking over their
plans and hopes that on the following morning the Indians
had arrived and were clamorous for them to start before
they were fairly awake. By sunrise they, together with
the three dogs, were embarked in a great long-beaked and
marvellously - carved Chilkat canoe, hewn from a single
cedar log, and painted black. Two of the Indians occupied
it with them, while the others and the sledge went iu a
second but smaller canoe of the same ungraceful design as
the first.
As with sail set and before, the brisk north breeze that
ever sweeps down the glacier the cauoes sped away among
the ice floes and bergs of the inlet, our boys cast many a
lingering backward glance at the little cabin that had
proved such a haven to them, aud at the stupendous ice-
wall gleaming in frozen splendor on their hori/on. Under
other conditions they would gladly have staid and ex-
plored its mysteries. Now they rejoiced at leaving it.
So favoring were the winds that they left Glacier Bay,
passrd Icy Strait, and headed northward as far as the
mouth of Lynn Canal before sunset of that day. During
the second day they ran the whole fifty-mile length of the
canal, which is the grandest of Alaska's rock-walled fiords,
entered Chilkat Inlet, passed the canneries at Pyramid
Harbor and Chilkat, which would not be opened until the
beginning of the salmon season in June, entered the
river, and finally reached Klnkwan, the principal Chilkat
village.
Here, as the smaller canoe had preceded them and au-
uouuced their coming, our travellers were welcomed by the
entire population of the village. These thronged the beach
in a state of wildest excitement, for it was known to all
that the long-lost fur-seal's tooth was at last come back to
them. Even the village dogs were there, a legion of snarl-
ing, flea-bitten curs. Ere the canoe touched the beach,
Musky, Luvtuk, and big Amook were among them, and a
battle was in progress that completely drowned the cries
of the spectators with its uproar. The fighting was con-
tinued with only brief intervals throughout the night ; but
in the morning the three champions from the Yukon were
masters of the situation, and roamed the village with bushy
tails proudly curled over their backs, and without inter-
ference. "For all the world," said Phil, "like the Three
Musketeers."
695
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THEY WERE WELCOMED BY THE ENTIRE POPULATION OF KLUKWAN.
The guests of tbe village -were escorted to the conncil-
house, to which were alsn taken their belongings. Here
they were supplied with venison, salmon, partridges, and
dried berries ; and here, after supper, they received many
visitors all anxious for a sight of the magic tooth. Most
prominent of these were the head Shaman of the village,
and the principal woman of the tribe, whose name was so
unpronounceable that Phil called her "The Princess," a'
title with which she seemed well pleased.
She was the widow of Kloh-kutz, most famous of Chilkat
chiefs, and the one who had presented the fur-seal's tooth
to Serge Belcofsky's father. On the occasion of this visit
she wore a beautifully embroidered dress, together with a
Chilkat blanket of exquisite fineness thrown over her
shoulders like a shawl, and fastened at the throat with a
stout safety-pin. The Princess devoted herself to Serge,
whom she evidently considered the most important person
iu the party, and to little Nel-te, who took to her at once.
While she pronounced the fur-seal's tooth to be the same
that had belonged to her husband, the Shaman shook his
head doubtfully. Then it was handed from one to another
of a number of lesser Shamans and chiefs for inspection.
Suddenly one of these dropped it to the floor, and, when
search was made, it could not be found.
Phil was furious at the impudence of this trick. Even
Serge was indignant, while Jalap Coombs said it was just
what might be expected from land sharks and pirates.
The Shaman insisted that the tooth was not lost, but had
disappeared of its own accord. If it were not the same
fur-seal's tooth that belonged to their tribe in former years,
it would not be seen again. If it were, it would appear
within a few days attached to a hideously carved repre-
sentation of Hutle, the thunder-bird that stood in one of
Kloh-kutz's houses, now used as a place for incantation.
"We don't care anything about all that!" exclaimed
Phil, when this was translated to him. "Tell him he can
do as he pleases with the tooth, so long as he gives us the
canoe we have bargained for.1'
To this the Sha-
man replied that
they should sure-
ly have a canoe as
soon as the tooth
proved its gen-
uineness by re-
appearing. Iii
the mean time,
if they were ^u
such a hurry to
get away that
they did not care
to wait, he had
a very fiue canoe
that he would let
them have at once
in exchange for
their guns and
their dogs. " You
may tell him that
we will wait," re-
plied Phil, grimly,
" but you ueed
riot tell him what
is equally true
that we shall
only wait until we
find a chance to
help ourselves to
the best canoe
and take French
leave."
So they waited,
though very im-
patiently,in Kink-
wan for nearly
a week, during
which time Phil
had ample op-
portunities for studying Chilkat architecture and totem
poles. The houses of the village were all built of heavy
hewn planks set on end. They had bark or plank roofs,
with a square opening in each for the egress of smoke. Many
of tin-in had glass windows and ordinary doors; but iu
others the doors were placed so high from the ground as to
be reached by ladders on both outside and inside. The
great totem poles that stood before every house were ten,
twenty, or thirty feet tall, and covered with heraldic carv-
ings from bottom to top.
During this time of waiting the Shaman made repeated
oft'ers to sell the strangers a canoe, all of which were indig-
nantly declined. That they did not appropriate one to
their own use was for the very simple reason that all, ex-
cept a few very small or leaky canoes, mysteriously disap-
peared from the village that first night.
At length the tricky medicine-man was forced to yield
to the threats of the Princess, who had taken the part of
our travellers from the first, and to popular clamor. He
therefore announced one evening that he had been informed
during a vision that the fur-seal's tooth would reappear
among them on the morrow.
On the following morning Phil and his companions were
aroused by a tremendous shouting and firing of guns, all of
which announced that the happy event had taken place.
"Now," cried Phil, " perhaps we will get our canoe."
But there were no canoes to be seen on the beach, and
the Shaman coolly informed them that, though the precious
tooth had indeed come back to dwell with the Chilkats,
they would still be obliged to wait until some of the canoes
returned from the hunting expeditions on which they had
all been taken.
At this Phil fell into such a rage that, regardless of con-
sequences, he was on the point of giving the old fraud a
most beautiful thrashing, when his uplifted arm was Mait-
liugly arrested by the deep boom of a heavy gun that
seemed to come from the mouth of the river.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
fiflG
OAKLEIGH.
BY E L L E \ DOUGLAS D E L A N D.
CHAPTER III.
WHEST Cynthia asked at Mrs.Parker's door if that lady
•were at home it was not necessary for her to give
her name. The maid recognized Miss Trinkett at once.
"Yes, she's at home, ma'am. And won't you please step
into the parlor, Miss Triukett? Mrs. Parker '11 he glad to
see you."
Mrs. Parker came hurrying down.
" Dear Miss Trinkett, how are yon ? Why, I should
scarcely have known you! What have yon done to your-
self?"
Cynthia laughed her great-aunt's high staccnto laugh.
" Well, now, I want to know, Mrs. Parker ! Don't you
see what it is? Why, my nieces at Oakleigh, they saw
right away what the difference was. I thought 'twas about
time I -was keeping up with the fashions, and so I bought
me a fine new piece of hair for my front. I was growing
somewhat gray, and I thought 'twas best to keep young on
Silas's account. It isn't that I care for myself, but you
have to be particular about meu-folks, as you'll kuow wheu
you've seen as much of them as I have."
Cynthia was a good actress, and she carried herself
precisely as Miss Betsey did, and imitated her voice to per-
fection.
She repeated some of her aunt's best-known tales, and
good Mrs. Parker nev-
er dreamed of the
possibility of her call-
er being any one but
worthy Miss Betsey
Triukett, of Waybor-
ough, whom she had
known for years.
Mrs. Parker was a
great talker, and usu-
ally she was obliged
to fight hard to sur-
pass Miss Triukett in
that respect. During
the first part of the
call to-day it was as
difficult as usual, but
Mrs. Parker presently
made a remark which
reduced her visitor to
a state of alarming
(silence.
" I suppose you
have come to an-
nounce the news,"
said the hostess, smil-
ing sympathetically.
"Now I don't know
a bit of news. Why,
my dear Mrs. Parker,
Silas and I we nev-
er—
" Ah, but this has
nothing to do with
Silas, though it may
affect you, more or
less. Surely yon know
what I am allud-
ing to ?"
"I haven't the
least idea."
And Cynthia bridled
with curiosity on her
0\vu account as well
as Aunt Betsey's.
She thought some-
thing interesting
must be coming.
'•Well, now, to
think of my being the one to tell you something about
your own family ! I don't know whether I ought to, but
I think it must be true, and you'll hear it in other ways
soon enough. You know I have relatives in Albany, where
she lives."
'•Where who lives?"
"Miss Gordon, Hester Gordon. They say — but, of course,
I don't know that it's true, it may be' just report, but they
do say — I don't know whether I ought to tell you, I de-
clare! that it won't be long before she's Mrs. Franklin."
- Mrs. Franklin ?"
" Yes, Mrs. John Franklin. Hasn't your nephew told you?
Well, well, these men ! They do beat all for keeping things
quiet."
" Is it true .'"
It was Cynthia's natural voice that asked this question.
She quite forgot that she was supposed to be Miss Betsey
Trinkett.
" I suppose it is. But, dear me, Miss Triukett, don't be
worried ! Seems to me you look very queer, though I can't
see your face very well through that veil, and you with
your back to the light. Your voice sounds sort of unnatu-
ral, too," added Mrs. Parker. " Let me get you some water."
"Oh no, it is nothing," said Cynthia, who had quickly
recovered herself, and was now summoning all her energy
" YOUR VOICE SOUNDS SORT OF UNNATURAL, TOO," ADDED MRS. PARKER.
697
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
to finish the call in a proper manner. "You surprised me,
that's all, and I never did care much for surprises. But I
think there's not much truth in that, Mrs. Parker. I don't
believe my fa — nephew is going to be married again. In
fact, I'm very sure he is not." And she nodded her head
emphatically.
"Ah, my dear Miss Trinkett, you never can tell. Some-
times a man's family is the last to hear those things. And
it will be a good match, too. She comes of an old family,
and she has a great deal of money. The Gordons are all
rich."
" Do you suppose he'd care for that ?" exclaimed her vis-
itor, wrathfully.
"Well, well, one never knows! And think how much
better it would be for the children. Edith is too young to
have so much care, and they say Cynthia runs wild most of
the time, just like a boy. Indeed, I call it a very good
thing. Though I must say she is a pretty brave woman to
take on herself the care of that family.''
Here "Miss Betsey" suddenly darted for the door. It
could be endured no longer. Mrs. Parker bade her fare-
well, and then went back to tell her daughters that Miss
Trinkett was sadly changed. Though she was still so
young in appearance, she was evidently very much broken.
For some time Jack could obtain no reply to his ques-
tions, but at last Cynthia's resolution broke down, and she
burst into tears. They had turned into a shady lane instead
of going directly home, and there was no danger of meet-
ing any one.
" Jack, Jack !" she moaned, " I'll have to tell yon. Mrs.
Parker says papa is going to be married again ! What
shall we do ! What shall we do !"
For answer Jack indulged in a prolonged whistle.
"Isn't it the most dreadful thing you ever heard of?
Jack, how shall we ever endure it?"
" Well, it mayn't be as bad as you think. If she's nice — '
"Oh, Jack, she won't be! Stepmothers are never nice.
I never in my life heard of one that was. She'll be horrid
to us all."
"Oh, I say, that's nonsense. If you were to marry a
widower with a lot of children you'd be nice to them."
"Jack, the very idea! / marry a widower with a lot of
children ! I'd like to see myself doing such a thing!"
Cynthia almost forgot her present troubles in her wrath
at her brother's suggestion.
" Well, after all it may not be true. Because Mrs. Par-
ker says so, doesn't prove it. Where did she hear it?"
" From some of her Albany relations, I suppose. The —
the lady lives there. But, oh, Jack! Do you think there
is any chance of its not being true ?" cried Cynthia, catch-
ing at the least straw of hope.
" Why, of course ! Father hasn't tolcj ns, and you can't
believe all the gossip yon hear," said Jack, loftily.
"Perhaps it isn't true, after all," exclaimed Cynthia,
drying her eyes and smiling once more, "and I've been
boo-hooiug all for nothing! I sha'u't say a word about it
to Edith, and don't you either, Jack. It isn't worth while
to worry her, and Mrs. Parker is a terrible gossip."
They went home, and Cynthia gave her sister a gay ac-
count of her visit, carefully omitting all exciting items,
and then she helped Edith put away some of the things,
and finally was free to go on the river in the afternoon.
Jack, boylike, had forgotten all about Mrs. Parker's news.
He did not believe it, and therefore it was not worth
thinking of. But Cynthia's mind was not so easily diverted.
She did not believe it, either, but then it might be true,
and if it were, what was to be done? It seemed as if a
worse calamity could not happen.
Jack, her usual companion on the river, was busy with
some carpentry. He was making a " brooder" like one he
had bought, to serve as a home for the little chicks when
they should be hatched. He used the "barn chamber"
for a workshop, and the sound of his saw and his hammer
could be heard through the open window.
Cynthia was deeply interested in poultry-raising, but she
wished it did not consume so much of her brother's time
and attention.
Edith was going to the village to an afternoon tea at the
Morgans'. Gertrude Morgan was her most intimate friend,
and all the nicest girls and boys would be there to talk
over a tennis tournament. Cynthia was rather sorry that
she had not been asked. She said to herself that she would
be of more value in the discussion than Edith, for she really
played tennis, while Edith merely stood about looking
graceful and pretty. However, she had not been invited,
and, after all, the river was more fun thau any afternoon
tea.
One of the men put the canoe in the water for her, and,
with a huge stone to act as ballast, she paddled up stream,
browsing along the banks looking for wild flowers, or steer-
ing her way through the rocks, of which the river was very
full just at this point.
Cynthia, fond as she was of companionship, being of au
extremely sociable disposition, was never lonely on her be-
loved river.
Edith dressed herself carefully and drove oft' to the tea.
She looked very attractive in her spring gown of gray and
her large black hat, and as she studied herself in the small
old-fashioned mirror that hung in her room she felt quite
pleased with her appearance.
"If I only had more nice gloves I should be satisfied,"
she thought. " It is so horried to be saving up one pair,
and having to wear such old things for driving and whisk
them oft' just before I get to a place and put on the good
ones. And a handsome parasol would be so nice. I don't
think I'll take this old thing. I don't really need one to-
day. I wonder where the children are. I ought to look
them up, I suppose, but they are all right, somewhere, and
it is getting late. After all, why should I always be the
one to run after those children ?"
And then she drove away to Breuton, leaving house-
keeping cares behind her, and prepared for a pleasant after-
noon.
About half a dozen boys and girls had already arrived at
the Morgans' when Edith drove in. It was a fine old house
standing far back from the road, and surrounded with
shady grounds. The river was at the back. A smooth and
well-kept tennis-court was on the left of the drive as one
approached the house, and here the guests were assembled.
"Oh, here's Edith Franklin at last!" cried Gertrude
Morgan, while her brother went forward, and, after helping
Edith to alight, took her horse and drove down to the
stable.
Presently all the tongues were buzzing, each one sug-
gesting what he or she cousideredl the very best plan
for holding a tournament. It was finally arranged to
have it at the tennis club rather than at the Morgans', as
had at first been thought best, and it would be open to all
the comers who had reached the age of fourteen.
"That is very young," said Gertrude, " but we really
ought to have it open to Cynthia Franklin. She is one of
the best players in Brenton."
" By all means," said her brother, who was always on tin-
side of the Franklins, "and, Edith, you'll play with me,
won't you, in mixed doubles?"
"Oh', I don't play well enough!" exclaimed Edith. "Thank
you ever so much, Dennis, but you had better ask some ono
else. I don't think I'll play."
Every one objected to this, but it was finally settled that
Edith should act as one of the hostesses for the important
occasion, which was greatly to her satisfaction. She rather
enjoyed moving slowly and gracefully about, pouring tea
and lemonade, and handing it to the poor, heated players,
who were obliged to work so hard for their fun.
They were startled by the sound of the clock on the
church across the. road. It struck six, and Edith rose in
haste,
" I must go," she said. " I had no idea it was so late !
Those children have probably gotten into all kinds of mis-
chief while I've been away, and papa will not be home un-
til late, so I am not to wait in the village for him."
The others looked after her as she drove away.
'• Isn't she the sweetest, dearest girl ?" cried Gertrude.
"And wou't it be hard for her if her father marries again,
as every one says he is going to do ? But, after all, it may
be a good thing, for then Edith wouldn't have to do so
098
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
much for the children. I wonder if she knows about it?
She hasn't breathed a word of it, eveu to me."
Janet and Willy, the inseparable but ever-fighting pair,
came in at the side door, not very long after Edith went to
the village. They found the house empty and the coast
clear, and their active brains immediately set to work to
solve the question of what mischief they could do.
They wandered into the big silent kitchen. The ser-
vants were upstairs, and beyond the buzzing of a fly on the
window-pane and the singing of the kettle on the range
perfect quiet reigned.
"Let's go down and see the inkerbaker," suggested
Willy.
"All right," returned Janet, affably, and down they pat-
tered as fast as their sturdy little legs could carry them.
They peered in through the glass front at the eggs,
which lay so peacefully within.
"It must be tumble stupid in there, "said Janet, pity-
ingly. "Shouldn't you think those chickens would, be
tired of waiting to come out?"
"Yes. We might crack a lot and help 'em out."
"Oh, no. Jack says they won't be ready for two days.
But I'll tell you what we might do. We might see whether
it's hot enough for 'em in there. I guess Jack's forgotten
all about 'em. I don't believe he's beeu near 'em to-day,
nor Martha, either."
"How d'yer find out whever it's hot enough ?"
" I don't know. Guess you open the door, and put your
hand in and feel."
For Janet had never been taught the significance of the
thermometer inside, and knew nothing of the proper means
of ventilating the machine.
No sooner said than done. One of the doors was prompt-
ly opened, and two fat hands were thrust into the cham-
ber.
"My goodies, it's hot there !" cried Janet. "We ought
to cool it off. Let's leave the door open and turn down the
lamp, and open the cellar window."
Mounted on an old barrel, Janet, at the risk of her life,
struggled in vain with the window. She chose one that
was never used, and it refused to respond to her efforts.
Then she descended, and returned to the incubator.
"Can't do it," she said. "But I'll tell you what we'll
do."
"What ?" asked the ever-ready Willy.
"Pour some ice water over 'em. That'll cool'eiu nicely."
They travelled up the cellar stairs to the " cooler," which
stood in the hall.
"Wish we had a pitcher," said Janet. "You take the
tum'ler, and I'll get a dipper."
It required several journeys to and fro to sufficiently cool
the eggs, according to their way of thinking, but at last it
was accomplished, with much dripping of water and splash-
ing (if clean clothes.
The water-cooler was left empty, and the incubator was
in a state of dampness alarming to behold.
" There ; I guess it's cool enough now !" said Janet, when
the last trip had been taken.
Alas, the mercury, which should have remained at 103°,
had dropped quietly down to 70°.
"I'd like to see what's in those eggs," said Willy, medi-
tatively. " D'yer s'pose they're chickies yet ?"
" I guess so. I'd like to see, too. I'll tell yon what,
Willy ? Let's take one, and carry it off and SIT."
"All right. I'll be the one to take it. What '11 Jack
say .'"
" He won't mind. Just one egg, and he has such a lot.
And we've beeu helping him lots this afternoon, cooling
Vin "If so nicely. But I'll be the one to take it."
"No, me !"
" Let's both do it," said Janet, for once anxious to avoid
a quarrel. " I speak for that big one over there," and she
abstracted one from the "thermometer row," the row that
was most important and precious in the eyes of the owner
of the machine.
" And I'll take, dis one. It's awful heavy, and I guess
de dear little chicken '11 be glad to get out and have some
nice fresh air."
"Let's go down behind the carriage-house and look at
'em."
They fastened the door of the incubator, and departed
with their treasures.
Half an hour later, Jack, having finished his work, cauie
whistling into the house. He would go down and have a
look at the machine, and then walk .up the river-hank to
meet Cynthia, whom he had seen as she paddled off' early
in the afternoon.
His first glance at the thermometer gave him a shock —
75° it registered. What had happened? He looked at the
lamp which heated the chambers, and found that it had
beeu turned down very low. What could Martha have
been thinking of, when he told her it was so important to
keep up the temperature this last day or so? The day
after to-morrow he expected the hatching to begin, and he
liad closed the door of the incubator that morning. It was
not to be opened again until the chicks were out.
Jack was on tiptoe with excitement. If they came out
well, what a triumph it would be ! If they failed, what
would his father say ?
He looked again, and a most unexpected sight met his
eyes. Water was dripping from the trays, aud the fine
gravel beneath had become mud.
And there was a vacant space iii the tray. An egg had
gone — and it was from the third row, the row which he
had been so careful about, which contained the best eggs.
Aud, yes, surely there was another hole. Another egg
gone! What could have happened '
He ran up stairs three steps at a time, shouting for
Martha.
"What have you beeu doing, Martha?" lie cried. "Two
eggs are gone, and the thermometer way below 80°, and all
that water!"
" Sure, Mr. Jack, I haven't been there at all ! You were
at home yourself to-day, and I never go near Jue place of a
Saturday."
" Well, some one has been at it. Where's Cynthia ?
Where's Edith ? Why isn't somebody at home to attend
to things?"
No one could be found. Jack rushed frantically about,
and at last heard the sound of wheels. Edith was return-
ing from the tea. And at the same moment, around the
corner of the house came Cynthia, leading two crying chil-
dren .
They all met on the front porch.
"They've beeu up to mischief, Jack," said Cynthia;
"I hope they haven't done much harm. I found them on
the bank behind the carriage-house. They must have
been at the incubator, for they had two eggs and the
chickens are dead. Aud they are two bad, naughty chil-
dren !"
Even Cynthia the peacemaker had beeu stirred to right-
eous wrath by the sight on the river-bank.
"You rascals!" cried Jack, in a fury, shaking them each
in turn ; " I'd like to lick you to pieces ! You've ruined the
whole hatch."
" Go straight to bed," said Edith, sternly ; " you are the
very worst children I ever knew. I ought not to leave the
house a minute. You can't be trusted at all."
They all went in, scolding, storming, and crying. In the
midst of the confusion Mr. Franklin arrived, earlier than
he had beeu expected. It was some minutes before he
could understand the meaning of the uproar.
He looked about from one to the other.
" It only serves to justify me in a conclusion that I have
reached," he said. " You are all too young to be without
some one to look after you. Take the children to bed,
Edith, and then come to me. I have something to tell
you."
Edith, wondering, did as she was told. Cynthia gave
Jack one despairing look aud fled from the room. Her
worst fears were on the point of being realized.
And after tea, when they were sitting as usual in the
long parlor, Mr. Franklin, with some hesitation and much
embarrassment, informed them that he was engaged t<> In'
married to Miss Hester Gordon, of Albany.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
699
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
BY WILLIAM HAMILTON GIBSON.
HE pretty works of my fairy anil
his companions in mischief are
seen on every hand from
spring until winter, but few
of ns have ever seen the fay,
for Puck is no myth nor Ariel
a creature of the poet's fancy.
Their prototype existed in entomological entity and de-
moralizing misehievousuess ages before the traditional fay,
in diminutive human form, had been dreamt of. The
quaint bow-legged little "brownies" which have brought
our entire land beneath the witching spell of their droll-
ery can scarce claim prestige in the ingenuity of their
mischief, nor can the droll doings of imps and elves chroni-
cled in the folk-lore of many an ancient people begin to
match the actual doings of the real, live, busy little fairy
whose works abound in meadow, wood, and copse, and
which any of us may discover if we can once be brought
to realize that our imp is visible. Then we must not for-
get that ideal type
of the true "fairy"
— a, paragon of
beauty and good-
ness, with golden
hair and dazzling
crown of brilliants,
with her airy cos-
tume of gossamer
begemmed and
spangled, her .dain-
ty twinkling feet
and gorgeously
painted butterfly
wings. And we
all remember that
wonderful wand
which she carried
so gracefully, and whose simple touch could evoke such
a train of surprising consequences.
And who shall say that our pretty fay is a myth, or her
magic wand a wild creation of the fancy? May we not see
the wonder-workings of that potent wand on every hand,
even though our fairy has eluded us while she cast the
spell ? There are a host of these wee fairies continually
flitting about among the trees plotting all sorts of mis-
chief, and leaving an astonishing witness of their visita-
tion in their trail as they pass from leaf to leaf or twig to
twig. But these fairies, like those of Grimm and Labmi-
laye, are agile little atoms, and are not to be caught in
their pranks if they know it, and even though our eye
chanced to rest on one of tin-in, it is doubtful whether we
would recognize him, so different is the guise of these mil
fairies from those invented creatures of the books. Once,
when a mere boy, I
caught one of the lit-
tle imps at work, and
watched her for sev-
eral minutes without
dreaming that I had
been looking at a real
fairy all this time.
What did I see ,' I
was sitting in a clear-
ing, partly in the shade
of a sapling growth
THE INHABITED ROSE SPONGE.
of oak which sprang from the trunk of a felled
tree. While thus half reclining I noticed a di-
minutive black wasplike insect upon one of the
oak leaves close to my face.
The insect seemed almost stationary and not
inclined to resent my iutrusiou, so I observed her
closely. I soon discovered that she was insert-
ing her sting into the midstem of the leaf, or,
perhaps, withdrawing it therefrom, for in a few
moments the midge flew away. I remember
wondering what the insect was trying to do,
and not until years later did I realize that I had
been witnessing the secret arts of the magician
of the insect world — a very Puck or Ariel, as I
have said — a fairy with a magic wand which any sprite
in eltiudom might covet.
The wand of Hermann never wrought such a wonder as
did this magic touch of the little black fly upon the oak
leaf. Had I chanced to visit the spot a few weeks later,
what a beautiful red-cheeked apple could I have plucked
from that hemstitched leaf!
This was but one of a veritable swarni of mischief-
making midges everywhere flitting among the trees; and
while they are quite as various in their shapes as the tra-
ditional forms of fairies — the ou plies and imps, the gnomes
and elves of quaintest mien, as well as the dainty fays and
sylphs and sprites — there is one feature common to them
all which annihilates the ideal of all the pictorial authori-
ties ou fairydom. Neither Grimm, nor Laboulaye, nor any
of the masters of fairy lore seems to have discovered that a
fairy has no right to those butterfly wings which the pages
of books show us. Those of the real fairy are quite dif-
ferent, being narrow and glassy, and
bear the magician's peculiar sign
in their crisscross veins.
What a world of mischief is going
on here in the fields! Here is one of
thewitchingspritesauiougthedroop- L
ing blossoms of the oak. "You
would fain be an acorn," she says,
as she pierces the tender blossoms
with her wand, "but
I charge thee bring forth
a string of currants";
and immediately the
blossoms begin to obey
the behest, and erelong
a mimic string of cur-
rants droops upon the
stem. Upon another
tender branch near by a
jet-black gauze-winged
elf is casting a similar
spell, which is this time
followed by a tiny dow-
ny pink-cheeked peach.
And here alights a tiny
sprite, whose magic
touch evokes even from
the sunn' leaf a cherry,
or a coral bead, perhaps
a huge given apple! How
many of
us have
seen tin-
little elf
\
.
THE ELFIN SPONGE OF THE BRIER ROSE.
700
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
-'
THE ELFIN SPONGE OF THE OAK.
that spends her life
among the tangles
of creeping ciuque-
foil, and decks its
stems with those
brilliant scarlet
beads which we may
always find upon
them, looking verily
like tempting ber-
ries.
We see here about
ns swarms of these
busy elves in obedience to their own peculiar mischievous
promptings. What whispers this glittering midge to the
oak twig here to which she clings so closely ? We may
not guess ; but if we pass this way a month or so hence
what a beautiful response in the glistening rosy-clouded
sponge which encircles the stem ! "But this sponge is not
pretty enough by half," exclaims a rival fairy. " Wait un-
til you see what yonder sweet-brier rose will do for we."
Hovering thither among its thorns she imparts her spell,
and, lo! within a mouth the stem is clothed in emerald
fringe, which grows apace, until it has become a dense
pompon of deep crimson
— a sponge worthy the
toilet of the fairy queen
herself !
Who shall still say
that the fairy is a myth !
These two fairy sponges
are familiar to us all, at
least to those, of us who
dwell for even a small
part of the year in the
country and use our eyes.
Indeed, we need go no
further than our city parks, or even our " back-yard" gar-
dens to find at least one of them, for the sweet-brier is
rarely neglected by this particular fairy.
So many specimens of both of these sponges have been
sent to me by ROUND TABLE correspondents aud others,
that I have begun to wonder how many of those other
young people who have seen them and kept silence have
wondered at their secret.
The two fairies which are responsible for these sponges
have been captured by the inquisitive scientist, aud have
THE ROSE MISCHIEF-MAKER.
had their portraits taken for the rogues' gal-
lery, aud now we see them stuck upon tiny
little three-cornered pieces of paper, and pinned
in the specimen case as mere iiixeets — gall-Hies.
The one is labelled Ci/injix m'iiiiiiul<n; the other,
Cyiii]>s nimi .
Aud now the prosaic entomologist proceeds,
to supplant fact for fancy. This gall-fly is a
sort of cousin to the wasps, but what we would
call its sting is more than a mere sting. Like a sting, it
seems to puncture the bark or leaf, aud at the same time
probably to inject its drop of venom ; but at the same time
it conveys to the
depths of the
wound a tiny egg,
or perhaps a host
of them. One
gall-fly is thus a
magician iu
chemistry, at
least, for no soon-
er are these eg_
deposited than
the wounded
branch begins to THE FAIRY USING HER MAGIC WAND
swell aud lorm a
cellular growth or tumor about them, the character
of this abnormal growth depending upon the peculiar
charm of the venomous touch — to one a tiny coral globe, to
another a cluster of spines, to another a curved horn, and
to our cynips of the white or scrub oak a peculiar globular
spongy growth which completely envelops the stem, some-
times to the size of a small apple. In its prime it is a beau-
tiful object, with its fibrous glistening texture studded!
with pink points. But this condition lasts but a few days,
when the entire mass becomes brownish and woolly, which
fact has given this insect the common name of " wool-
sower."
Aud now we must lose no time if we would follow its-
history to its complete cycle. If we put one of these faded
sponges iu a tight-closed box, we shall iu a few days learn
the secret of its being. For this singular mimic fruit, which
' 7" -
, - !
-v^Xste- > t
?;W "' r' ''
-J3P -
. ,
JS.BS
m
'&• :
' •?!$ -
'••' aul'f -
THE REAL FAIRY OF THE OAK SPONGE.
A. One of the points detached. B. Sectioii of the base.
C, D. Cynfps emer^iuL^
701
HAEPER'S KOUND TABLE
iias sprung at the behest of the gall-fly, like other fruits,
has its seeds — seeds which are animated with peculiar
life, and which sprout in a way we would hardly expect.
Within a fortnight after gathering, perhaps, we find our
bos swarming with tiny black flies, while if we dissect the
sponge we find its long-beaked seeds entirely empty, aud
«ach with a clean round hole guawed through its shell, ex-
plaining this host of gall-flies, all similar to the parent of a
few weeks since, aud all beut on the same mischief when
you shall let them loose at the window.
The beautiful sponge of the sweet-brier has been called
into being by exactly similar means. And its hard woody
centre is packed full of cells, at first each with its tiny egg,
and then with its plump larva, followed by the chrysalis,
and at length by the emergence of the full-fledged Cynips
rosai.
This sponge-gall of the rose is commonly known as the
Bedeguar, aud like all other members of its tribe, as with
the familiar oak-apple, was long supposed to be a regular
accessory fruit of its parent stalk. Among early studeuts
were many superstitious connected with the Bedeguar,
the nature of which may readily be inferred from its other
common name of "Robin's Pin-cushion."
i >STAC7V\P>S
This Department is conducted in the interest of Stamp and Coio Collectors, and the Edilnr
will be pleased to snRwer any queltlon cm these sutjeets so far as possible. Correspondents
should address Editor Stamp Department.
A LIST OP DON'TS FOR STAMP COLLECTORS.
DON'T paste your stamps iuto your albums, but use
"stickers" or "hinges."
Don't use any old copy-book if you cau afford to buy an
album. Dealers cau supply albums at any price from
twenty-five cents upward.
Don't trim your stamps. Many valuable stamps have
been ruined by this process.
Don't cut envelope stamps to shape. Cut them out
square, leaving a good margin on all sides.
Don't handle your stamps any more than you can help.
Don't buy rare stamps from any but responsible dealers.
Some counterfeits resemble the genuine stamps marvel-
lously. No oue not au expert could tell them apart.
Don't buy Chinese locals, "Seebecks," and other phila-
telic trash, which is made purposely for sale to stamp col-
lectors.
Don't expect to get something for uothiug.
FV.ANK P. HBI.BKI.L.— The U. S. 12c. 1S72 issue is worth 15 cents. The
50c. green Mauritius 1880 issue is worth 60 cents, unused; 85 cents,
used. The "U.S. Post "is the 1S04 issue; worth 15 cents.
W. L. L. P.— Most of the Heligoland stamps sold are reprints. They are
worth 3 cents each. Originals are worth from 15 cents to f5 each.
JAMF.S H. CRF.[GUTON. — The two stamps are the 3c. 1S61 and 1872.
They are sold hy stamp-dealers at 1 cent each.
J. A. M.— There is no premium on the 1872 U.S. Ic. coin.
R. F. B. — The U. S. 2c. stamp bearing a representation of a horseman
is the 1869 issue, worth 8 cents used, 25 cents unused.
J. DUFF. — The coin-dealers ask SI 50 for good copies of the 1S77 trade
•dollar. There are several varieties of the 1801 and 1797 copper cents,
worth ifom 25 cents to $3 each, according to conditiou. There is no
premium on the Canadian coin.
G. G. BF.ATTIF. — Write to any stamp-dealer whose address yon find in
our advertising columns. \Ve cannot give addresses in this Department.
'The German coin mentioned has no premium.
HAF.UY Rir.F.v, Brunswick, Maine, wants to correspond with some
members of the ROUNH TAIII.K living in Central or South America. Most
-of the Hamburg stumps i" albums are reprints. When the word "can-
celled "is printed on a stamp it cannot be used for postage. It is simply
-a "specimen '' ur lac-simile. The Hong-Kong stamps mentioned by you
iiave not yet been ratalogtied.
G. KNAUFF.— Mauy thanks tor calling my attention to the three varie-
ties of the present 2c. U. S. (1) The variety in which the horizontal Hues
run across the triangular ornaments in uniform thickness. (2) That in
which the horizontal lines between the outer and inner lines of the orna-
ments are deepened. (3) That in which the lines are entirely missing
between the outer and inner lines of the ornaments. All three were
known, aud in addition there is the variety showing a flaw in the forehead.
This is sometimes found strongly marked ; in others it is more or less
distinct. I advise philatelists to collect all these varieties, as well as
all the shades of color, which are almost innumerable.
LAUKA WELOU.— Both the stamp and the embossed envelope were used
by the War Department for several years. This use has been discon-
tinued many years. The stamp is worth 5 cents, the Ic. envelope, if on
white paper, is worth $2 50, if on amber paper $35, if on mauila paper 5
cents.
L. P. DODGE The stamp you describe is one of the German locals
which are not collected in this country. There are many counterfeits of
the New Orleans Confederate local. It is impossible to say whether
your copy is genuine or counterfeit without examination.
H. R. C. — The present blue Special Delivery is collected as a new
variety. The Sedang stamps are worthless. Your complaint will be in-
vestigated if you will send the Stamp Editor your full name and address.
F. E. WELSH, JON.—" Regular" perforations cut out little circles of
white paper between each stamp on the sheet "Pin" perforations are
simply holes punched into the spaces between the stamps without remov-
ing the little circles of white paper. Saw-tooth perforations are simply
cuts into the spaces between the stamps somewhat like this — v v v v v v.
When the stamps are torn apart the margins look just like the teeth OD
a saw. Tne Columbian stamps are rapidly advancing in value. The 8c.
Sherman has dropped in value during the past year from 4 cents to a ^
cent each.
JAMKS F. ANDERSON. — The stamp you describe is the New Orleans
local. It is worth at least SI 50.
A. W. DUNOAN. — The 1S30 half-dollar is not at a premium.
R. B. H.— The 3c. green U.S. is worth 1 cent.
F. LOOKR. — The 1S53 dime is worth face value only.
GEO. H. — We cannot answer questions regarding dealers in this column.
B. W. LKAVITT.— TheSOc. revenue-stamps mentioned are sold by dealers
at 2 cents each.
C. C. Coo.NF.i'..— The Ic. blue 1S61 is worth 3 cents ; the others are worth
1 cent each.
PHILATUS.
THAT SLEIGHT-OF-HAND PEKFORMANCE.
BY CHARLES M. SHELDON.
IT had been a very dull winter at Colby, aud when, we
college boys came home for our Christmas vacation we
determined we would liveu it up for the village.
As it happened, curiously enough, a funeral was the cause
of the lively time that followed our determination.
Old Father^ Colby, one of the original settlers, had died
the week before, leaving a wife aud three orphaned grand-
children in the old homestead, and, as it turned out, very
destitute. So the idea occurred to us to get up a benefit
entertainment, aud turn over the proceeds to the widow
Colby and her family of grandchildren.
The idea took with the neighborhood. Aud we at once
rented the Town-hall, and proceeded to bill the village and
every baru in the towuship with the notices of our per-
formance.
There were three of us : Tom Chandler, Jonas Willitts,
and myself, Peter Samuels. We were the only village boys
who had ever been to college, and we were the envy of all
the farmers' boys and the admiration of all the village girls.
So we made the most of our brief vacations to get into
public notice.
We determined to give a sleight-of-hand performance.
Tom sent down to Boston for materials, and we all prac-
tised diligently, keeping everything as secret as if we were
in a conspiracy against the United States.
Our announcements, which were scattered all over the
township, were certainly very attractive. They read as
follows :
"Extraordinary Performance to be given at the Town-
hall, Colby, December 20, 18 — . Marvellous Feats of Pres-
tidigitatorism! The Egg and the Handkerchief! The
Watch Mortar and Magic Pistol!
"The Handkerchief that will not Burn! The Pudding
in the Hat! The Inexhaustible Bottle! And Numerous
other Marvels aud Mysteries lately Imported iroiu ludia
aud the East!
702
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"The above Unrivalled Performance -will be given for
only 25 cents admission. Proceeds to be devoted to Be-
nevolent Cause. Doors open at 7.30. Performance to be-
gin at 8. Come early and avoid being turned away. No
reserved seats. Carriages may be ordered for ten o'clock."
Wo debated some over the last line on the handbills, but
finally decided to let it go in. It made the bills look more
cosmopolitan and did no harm.
Tom and Jouas were to be the principal performers. I
was general ticket agent and business and stage manager.
We all had our dress suits with us, and, of course, we wore
them when the time came.
Well, that was the largest crowd that ever came to an
entertainment in Colby. There hadn't been anything
going on all winter. Most of the young people had never
seen any sleight-of-hand tricks, and all the old people
turned out to help Grandma Colby. Before eight o'clock
the hall was jammed. Every seat was taken, and people
crowded into the broad aisle and sat on the platform, and
stood up all around in a black fringe against the wall.
We had rigged up a curtain in front of the narrow plat-
form, and at eight o'clock, when the hall was so full that
no more people could get into it, the curtain was pulled
aside by Peter Samuels, the stage director, and revealed
the Magician's Home.
The first trick on the programme was " The Egg and
the Handkerchief." Jonas was behind the table acting
as Tom's assistant, -while I was stationed just out of sight
behind a fold of the curtain, ready to step in at the right
moment, for the trick required the use of three persons.
It was simple enough, and yet Tom's blunder at the start
led to the ridiculous accident which was the first of a
series that made that sleight-of-hand performance a thing
for Colby people to reckon time from.
The trick was, first, for Tom to produce an egg from
Jonas's mouth by rapping him on the back of his head,
Jonas already having been provided with a guinea-hen's
egg secreted in his month for the purpose. Then, when the
egg appeared, Tom was to pretend to place it in a handker-
chief, really substituting for it a china egg of the same
size, and slipping the real egg into a little pochette of his
dress-coat. What he did, however, was to drop the real
egg into the handkerchief, because, as he afterwards said,
the china egg stuck in his pochette, and be could not get
it out. The next part of the trick was to gather up the
four corners of the handkerchief and whirl it around rap-
idly, saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, keep your eyes on
my assistant yonder." At that point I stepped out, holding
on a plate a very nice-looking sponge-cake previously pre-
pared. Then Tom was to. say: "I will now cause the egg
in the handkerchief to pass into the cake. Watch closely,
ladies and gentlemen."
At that point Tom should have brought the handker-
chief around in such a way as to slip the china egg out
into his other hand. Then I was to come forward and cut
open the cake, displaying an egg (also china), previously
placed within. And then Tom was to have produced the
real egg, and in order' to prove that it was a real egg with-
in the cake (exchanging the two by palming one of them),
he was to break the real one into a dish.
All this, which sounds so complex to describe, was simple
enough as we had rehearsed it, and even with Tom's blun-
der of dropping the real egg in the handkerchief, might
have turned out all right if he had not let go one of the
corners of the handkerchief as he whirled it around his head.
I, Peter Samuels, stage manager and director of that ex-
traordinary performance of "Marvellous Feats of Prestidi-
gitatorism," will never forget my sensations when, as I
advanced solemnly with the cake, a white body whizzed
through the air and struck me full on my expansive shirt
bosom, breaking with a splash, and running down over my
vest and trousers in a yellow stream.
I remember the scared look on Jonas's face, the per-
fectly horrified expression that Tom wore, and also remem-
ber dimly wondering if a guinea-fowl's egg would make as
large an outlet as that of an ostrich. For it seemed to me
as if I was swimming in egg batter.
The next instant the audience broke into a perfect roar
of laughter. I threw the cake down on the table and
rushed back of the curtain again, leaving Tom and Jonas
to get out of the blunder as best they could, while I wiped
oft' the egg as best I could with my handkerchief.
How that audience did roar! Torn stood with a knife in
his hand waiting to cut the cake. He said afterwards he
felt mad enough to jump down ofi'the platform and pummel
half a dozen big boys on the front seat. But he kept his
temper, and when the laugh died down he cut the cake
ppeii and showed the egg, saying something about its being
a small-sized egg on account of spilling a part of it on the
way. So that mystified the people a little and restored the
reputation of the performance, at least for a while.
The next trick was an easy one, -and went oft' without any
slip, and was applauded. Tom and Jonas had the stage to
themselves fora while, and I staid out of sight and scrubbed
at the egg. But do what I could, my shirt bosom was ruined.
Then came the " Watch Mortar " trick, and to my dying
day I shall never forget how that turned out. Neither will
Tom.
We had an apparatus made to resemble an old-fashioned
druggists' mortar. It was really made of tin, in two com-
partments, so that any heavy object dropped into it would
depress a false bottom and drop through on a shelf back of
the magician's table, at the same time letting into the up-
per part of the mortar the fragments of an old watch pre-
viously pounded into bits. Then Tom was to pretend to
smash the borrowed watch, and afterwards fire a pistol at
me and take the real watch from my vest pocket, where he
would place it when he went back of the scenes for his pis-
tol.
He described his intentions and asked for a watch from
the audience. Uncle Job Cavendish, the village barber,
handed up an old silver-case time-piece that was worth
perhaps $3.
Tom took it, and after a good deal of talk, dropped it
down into the mortar, picked up the ridiculous club used
for a pestle, and began to pound away. There was a great
smashing sound, and poor Uncle Job looked serious. But
he did not begin to look half so serious as Tom did, and I
saw in a minute that something was wrong.
He dropped the pestle, and said hurriedly to the audi-
ence, " Ladies and gentlemen, I find I have left my pistol
in the other room. Excuse me while I run after it."
Then Tom came into the wing where I stood, and jerk-
ing his own gold watch out of his pocket, thrust it into
mine, and whispered to me fiercely, "That mortar stuck in
some way, and I smashed Uucle Job's watch into chicken-
feed! Here is mine! I'll have to give him something
back, or we'll be mobbed out of the village !"
Then he grabbed up the stage pistol and hurried back.
He rammed the remains of Uncle Job's poor watch down
the big mouth of the pistol, and I stepped forth, baring my
egg- stained bosom to the pistol shot. Bang! went the
powder from the false chamber of the pistol, and Tom,
with a ghastly smile, stepped up to me and pulled his
watch out of my pocket, and with the utmost courage
leaned out over the edge of the platform and handed the
watch to Uncle Job, saying, " Here you are, sir! Not only
as good as new, but changed from silver to gold!"
Uncle Job was so taken by surprise that he sat with
open mouth. He took the watch and looked at it in dumb
astonishment. The audience was taken as much by sur-
prise as he was.
Tom and Jonas held a hurried consultation, and at once
announced the next trick. There was a great deal of con-
fusion in the hall. Several voices shouted out, " Show the
silver watch !" Tom paid no attention, and the next half-
dozen tricks were so well done that the people applauded,
and we began to gain fresh courage.
But alas ! The next on the programme was the " Hand-
kerchief that will not burn."
Almost any one with a little practice can pass a hand-
kerchief obliquely through the flame of a candle without
burning it. All that is needed is the proper dexterity.
And this caution must be heeded. The handkerchief must
be free from cologne or perfumery, which contains spirit*
and is very inflammable.
703
THEN THE WHOLE HAT SEEMED TO LET GO LIKE A BROKEN RESERVOIR.
This was Jonas^s trick. He called for a lady's handker-
chief, and who should hand one up hut Sally Conners, the
prettiest girl in the village, and the one of all with whom
Jonas was smitten.
But to the grief of Jonas, Sally was very much addicted
to perfumery, and had that evening drenched her handker-
chief with it. Jonas lighted the caudle, keeping up a run-
ning talk about making the handkerchief enchanted, and
then he passed it through the llame.
The effect could not have been more certain if he had
poured kerosene on the candle. Poor Sally's delicate per-
fume-drenched handkerchief blazed up in an instant like
a display of fireworks. Jonas squeezed his hands around
the fragments that were left, and danced around the stage,
howling at the sudden pain of the burn. And the audience
•went wild. I thought it never would stop laughing. Tom
was desperate. I could see he meant to conclude the per-
formance before we had ruined our reputations forever.
With becoming modesty he addressed himself to the au-
dience when it had tired of laughing, and announced that
the entertainment would close with the startling trick,
" The pudding in the hat."
He and Jonas had practised this until they felt sure of
it. Like all sleight-of-hand tricks, it is easy enough if-
properly dour.
First Jonas prepared a dish of batter made of eggs
broken in. shells and all, a little flour, milk, raisins, and mo-
lassrs. A ridiculous mixture, from which, he assured the
audience, would come forth a beautiful pudding, nicely
baked in a stovepipe hat, which he would wear on his own
head to prove that there was nothing in it. A sentence
which had a doable meaning, and to which Jonas fully as-
sented in every particular before the evening was over.
Well, the dish that held the batter was poured into the
bat, apparently. ( >(' course it was really poured into a tin
which exactly fitted into the hat, and which contained
also a second tin concealing the pudding, tipped into it by
Tom at the proper moment. Then the next part of the
trick consisted in placing the hat on Jonas's head, while lie
was to strut about the stage jauntily. Then the hat would
be removed, and lo! in the centre of it would be found the
pudding nicely baked.
Now, whether Tom made some mistake in getting those
tins canted into the hat properly or not will never be
known. Perhaps he pulled the hat down too hard over
Jouas's brows when he put it on him, and so loosened
something. At any rate, Jonas had not taken two steps
before a streak of batter was seen running down over hi.s
face. Then the whole hat seemed to let go like a broken
reservoir, and the milk and molasses and egg and flour
streamed down in a shower over the miserable Jonas.
He tried to pull the hat off, and did so, leaving on his
head, however, the tins, which gave him the most aston-
ishing appearance possible. Tom fell back on the table in
an agony of laughter, and in doing so sat down on the dish
that had contained the batter. The audience simply cried
itself hoarse with laughter. Sally C'o'nners screamed with
all her might, and all the farmers' boys, who were present
for miles around, haw-hawed, and the old folks almost died
looking at poor Jonas. In the midst of it all, I, Peter Sam-
uels, stage director, drew the curtain, and with the other
two performers stole down the back stairs, and made a run
for home, and so the great sleight-of-hand performance
came to an eud.
The Colby people never forgot that performance. We
never did, either. Uncle Job kept Tom's watch until he
left for college, and then gave it back to him, and Tom
bought him a new silver time-piece. The widow Colby
and her grandchildren realized a good sum from the enter-
tainment, and the next vacation we three boys spent in the
city. I am afraid Jonas has lost the favor of Sally Cou-
riers, for she never can speak of him without laughing.
But then Sally always did laugh on almost any provoca-
tion.
704
B ©|
INTERSCHOL'ASTIC"
SPORT®!
SO FAR AS is KNOWN, no schedule of Intel-scholastic track
and field records has ever before been printed, and
although the table published in this issue is as accurate as
can be made utider the circumstances, still there are doubt-
less a few errors scattered around in it somewhere that,
will be discovered by sharp-eyed readers in the very near
future. If the latter will inform this Department of the
mistakes as soon as they are found out, the table may be
depended upon to be absolutely exact the next time it is
printed— -and it certainly will be ottered in better form.
To-day I have been obliged to put two bicycle events and
two hammer and shot events ou the list, because the inter-
scholastic associations in the various parts of the country
are about evenly divided in the choice of distances and the
use of weights. I have left out entirely such acrobatic
events as the hop, step, and jump, and throwing the base-
ball, because they are not athletic, and do not deserve to
be recognized on any interscholastic programme. Perhaps
a year from now the school associations will have come to
the conclusion that, take it all in all, it is really better to
have a uniform measure of efficiency in sport as well as in
anything else, and then a comparative table will be of
more value.
How is IT POSSIBLE to gauge the performances of school
champions with those of others — college-men and athletic
club amateurs — when we have no common ratio? We
cannot, of course. For instance, take Beers's record of
lof sec. in the high hurdles, made at the New York Inter-
scholastics last May. On paper this looks very well. It
apparently beats the inter-collegiate record made by Harry
Williams in 1891, by one-fifth of a second. But it really
does not. Beers ran his race over lower hurdles, and so it
is not possible to make a comparison. The hurdles used
bv the N.Y.I.S.A.A. are only 3 feet high, whereas the inter-
collegiate sticks are 3 ft. 6 in. Some of the iuterseholastic
associations use the standard 3 ft. 6 in. hurdles, but as it
was impossible to ascertain exactly what the records were
that had been made over these at school meetings in the
past, I took the fastest time over the dwarfed hurdles, and
let it go in as a fit companion for the 12-lb. shot and ham-
mer and the mile bicycle-race.
IN THE FUTURE, HOWEVER, I shall give little attention
to these one-eyed records. The college associations have
set up a standard of distance and weight which experience
has shown to be a good one. A sufficient number of inter-
scholastic associations have adopted the same standard,
thereby making it clearly evident that it is none too high
for school-boy athletes. Therefore, in making out a com-
parative table of college and school records, this Depart-
ment will accept the standard established by the I.C.A.A.A.
and adopted by the majority of the interscholastic associ-
ations. If in the near future a general interscholastic
league is formed, I feel sure that its legislators will agree
with me in this, and will adopt the same course when they
lay out their programme.
IT is TO BE REGRETTED that the Oakland, Cal., High-
School athletic team was unable to accept the Stockton
High-School's challenge for dual games to be held on June
15th last, but unless something unforeseen turns up the
meeting will be held soon after the next school term
begins, which is in August. The California schools open
about five weeks earlier than our Eastern institutions, and
the football season with them, therefore, starts in the
closing days of summer. There will also, be the semi-an-
nual field day of the Academic Athletic League at about
that time, or in September, and bicycle road races, in
which teams from the several schools of the A.A.L. will be
matched against one another. At the field day there will
be a contest for the all 'round championship of the Pacific
Coast Association. Five or six events will be selected
from the programme, and every competitor for the cham-
pionship will have to compete in each one, the champion
to be the winner of the greatest number of points.
THE OBJECT OF THIS athletic Department in HARPER'S
ROUND TABLE is not only to criticise and comment upon
the various sports of the calender, but also to explain any
intricate points of these games, to answer questions on
matters of sport and athletics, and to give all such infor-
mation as shall justly come under the head of Inter-
scholastic Sport. A number of correspondents have re-
quested that some space be devoted to an explanation of
the "100-up" method of scoring in tennis, and to give the
rules for odds. This "100-up" method, sometimes called
the " Pastime " system, was devised a few years ago to meet
the defects of the old system of scoring, which had been
handed down to us from the ancient English game of ten-
nis. The latter has a good many disadvantages in spite of
its universal use, the chief objection being that it frequent-
ly happens in a match that a player scores more strokes, or
even more games, than his antagonist, and yet is beaten.
This, of course, is manifestly unfair; and as for handicaps,
in which more than two players are competing, the com-
plex and unsatisfactory system of adjusting the odds ac-
cording to the old way is unnecessarily complicated.
THE RULES FOR THE " 100-up " method are comparatively
simple and very easily reiuemhi-ivd after having been used
once or twice. The player who serves first must serve six
times in succession, and then his opponent does the same,
the service changing always after each one -has served six
consecutive times. One fault and one good service ; two
faults; or one good service counts as a service. After the
first, third, fifth, or, in other words, every alternate series of
service, the players change courts, thus making each six
successive services one series of services. The first player
to score one hundred points wins the game ; but the match
can be played for any number of points — more or less than
a hundred — as the contestants may agree upon beforehand.
The usual figure, however, is one hundred. If the score
comes to be 99-all. play goes on as before, uutil one of the
players has a majority of two points. He then wins; but
no game can be won by a lesser majority than two points.
THE ODDS IN THE REGULAR old - fashioned method of
counting are, briefly, thus: A "bisque" is one point that
can be taken by the receiver of the odds at any time during
the set except after a service is delivered, or, if he is serv-
ing, after a fault. "Half fifteen" is one stroke given at
the beginning of the second, fourth, and every alternate
game of a set, and " fifteen " is one stroke given at the be-
ginning of every game. lu the same way " thirty " is two
strokes given at the beginning of every game, whereas
"half thirty" is one stroke given at the beginning of the
first game, two at the beginning of the second, one at the
beginning of the third, and so on, two and one, alternately,
until the end of the set. " Forty " is three strokes before
every game, " half forty " three and two, alternately, as be-
fore. "Owed odds" signifies that the giver of the odds
starts behind scratch. Thus "owe half fifteen " means that
one stroke is owed at the beginning of the first, third, fifth,
and every alternate game of the set. Other "owed iul<K
are reckoned inversely in the same manner as given odds.
705
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
INTERSCHOLASTIC RECORDS OP THE VNITK1) STATES, 1595.
Event.
Record
Maker.
School.
Tin,.- ami place.
10 1-5 sec.
222-5 "
503-5 "
2 m. 4 1-5 "
4 ' 342-5 "
7 ' 17 3-5 "
15 3-5 "
261-2 "
2 '341-5 "
5 ' IS 2-5 "
5 ft. 11 in.
21 ' 6
10 • 7
125 '
111 ' 10
40 ' 3-4 "
39 ' 3
F. II. Bigelow.
F. H Bigelow.
T. E. Burke.
J. A. Me-ehan.
\\* T. LailiL'.
A. N. Butler.
A. F. Beers,
Field.
I. A. Powell.
Baker.
S. A. W. Baltazzi.
C. Brewer.
B. Johnson.
R. F. Johnson.
F. G. Beck.
A. ('. Ayree
M. O'l'.n-n
Worcester II.-S.
\Vorcesier 11. -s.
Boston Engibh H.-S.
Condon, N.Y.
Phillips Academy, Amlover.
Hillliouse H.-S , New Haven.
De La Salle, N.Y.
Hartford H.-S.
Cutler, N.Y.
Hotchkiss, Lakeville, Conn.
Harvard, N.Y.
Hopkinson, Boston.
Worcester Academy.
Brookline H.-S.
Hillhouse H.-S., New Haven.
Condon, N.Y.
Boston English H.-S.
N.E.I.S.A.A. games, 1894.
N.E.I.S.A.A. games, 1S94.
N.E.I S.A A. games, 1894.
N.Y.I s.A A. game- May 11 1S95
Mile run
N.E.I.S.A.A. games, 1-U4.
Conn. H.-S.A. A. games. June S, 1S95.
N.Y.I. S.A. A. .games. .May 11, 1S95.
Conn. H -S.A.A. games, June S. 1S95.
N.Y.I. S.A.A. games, May 11, 1S95.
Conn. II -s A. A. games, June 9,1896.
N.Y I.. S.A.A. LMiii'-s, Mav 11, 1S95.
N E.I. S.A. A. games, 1390
N.E.I.S.A.A. games, June 15, 1S95.
N.E.I S.A A. games 1S94.
Running high jump
Running broad jump . . .
Throwing 12-11). hammer
Throwing 16-lb. hammer
Conn. H.-S.A. A. games, June S, 1895.
N.Y. I. S.A. A. games, Jlay 11, 1895.
N.E.I. S. A. A. games, 1894.
Putting 16-lb. shot
If a player gives odds of " half court," lie agrees to play in
a rrrtain half of the court, either the right or the left, and
he loses a stroke wheuever he returns a ball outside any of
the lines that bound that half court.
BUT THE NEWEST OF ALL the systems of odds, and the one
now most generally used by experts, is called the "quarter "
system. In this method fifteen is divided into four quar-
ters, and thus a closer handicap may be obtained. "One
quarter "of fifteen is one stroke given at the beginning
of the second, sixth, and every fourth game thereafter in
the set. "Two quarters" (the "half fifteen" spoken of
above) is one stroke at the beginning of the second, fourth,
sixth, etc., games. "Three quarters" is one stroke at the
In Burning of the second, third, fourth, sixth, seventh, and
eighth games, and so on. When it is "odds owed," as be-
fore, "one quarter" is one stroke in the first aud fifth
games; " two quarters " is one stroke iu the first and third ;
and ".three quarters" is one stroke in the first, third, and
fourth games, and so on to the end of the set. In order t<>
get odds at a similar ratio when the match is being sroivd
on the " 100-up " system, the following table of equivalents
has been adopted :
1 quarter of 15= 5 points per 100
2 quarters " 11 "
3 " " 15 "
15 •• " 22 "
15.1 " " 27 "
15.2 " " 32 "
15.3 q't'rs of 15=3S points per 100
30 ' 43
80.1 ' 49 " "
30.2 • 54
30.3 ' 59 " "
40 ' 65 "
THE pRixcii'Ai, DiFKici'LTY about this new system of
odds, except for experts and for those who play constant-
ly, is the difficulty of remembering it. It certainly takes
more study to become familiar with it than with the old
halt-point system. In that the odds change at every game,
aud change duvet ly back again even when most compli-
catecl, so that i rally all thrrr is tn rruiember is which odds
came \\ith tin- service. The chief advantage of the" quar-
fcer"system is that it affords greater accuracy, and to ex-
perts this is a siit'lirient compensation for its intricacy. I
should not advise the average player, however, to bother
with it, for, unless he intends to try for a national cham-
pionship, life is too short to devote many hours of study to
the " quarter" system.
ANOTHER CORKKSI'C INDENT ASKS tor information as to the
best way to get up a tennis tournament, and now that we
are on the subject of tennis, his query might just as well be
disposed of. A tournament, like anything else, demands
time and care in preparation if it is to be a success. Dou't
put off everything until the last moment, or the day will
surely he a failure; whereas, if thought is given to all the
small details that go to make such an occasion enjoyable,
everything will go as easily as rolling off a log. In the
liist plaor. those who want to arrange a tournament, or the
committee which has been chosen to make the arrange-
ments, should get together and discuss the situation and
decide what they want to do and bow they want to do it.
In this preliminary talk a calculation of expenses should
first be made. Find out how much money will probably
be required, and then, as a measure of safety, add about
ten per cent, to that, for expenses are usually uuderest ima led.
Having determined how much money will be needed, make
arrangements for securing that amount either by subscrip-
tion, entrance fees, or sale of tickets. If the tournament is
to be conducted by a club, there will probably be some money
in the treasury that can be used. It is not usually advis-
able, and seldom practicable at an impromptu summer
tennis tournament, to demand admission fees of the spec-
tators.
THE FINANCIAL PART OF THE enterprise having now been
attended to, a treasurer should be appointed to take charge
of the funds, and to keep an account of all receipts and ex-
INTER-COLLEGIATE EECOKDS OF THE UNITED STATES, 1895.
Event.
Record.
Made by.
f E. 3. Wendell, Harvard ; W.
Baker, Harvard ; C. H.
'^1 4-5 "
Princeton ; E.' S. Rams-
[ dell, Penn.
Quarter-mile run
47 3-4 "
W. Bakerf'Ha'rvard.
4 ll 23 2-5 "
120-yard hurdle
220-yard hurdle
Two-mile bicycle
Running high ]ump. .
Running broad jump.
154-5 "
243-5 "
4 " 10 "
r, ft. 4 in.
23 "
11 " 2 3-4 "
H.'L. Williams, Vale.
J. L. Breiner, Harvard.
W. D. Osgood, Penn.
W. B. Page, Penn.
L. P. Sheldon, Yale.
Throwing 16-lb. ham'r
Putting 16-lb. shot..
135 " 7 1-2 "
44 " 1 1-2 "
W. O. Hickok, Yale.
W. O. Hickok, Yal.-.
peuditures. Of course, if, as I have said before, the tourna-
ment is being held by a club, many of these details are al-
ready fulfilled by previous organization. The date shmihl
be the nest thing decided. In each instance then- \\ill
be many circumstances affecting this date. If the idea of
having a tournament is being discussed with a view to
holding it later iu the summer, find out what players will
be in the neighborhood at that time, and try to invite
players to visit the locality at about that period. If you
only have a week or ten days in which to make your prep-
arations (for a small tournament), try to lix on a day when
there will be nothing else of importance going on near by.
The chief object of the managers or of the committee
should be to secure as large an attendance as possible, for a
crowd will encourage the players to better effort.
THE DATE HAVING BEEN settled upon, send out notices.
State clearly all the facts. Say at what place, on what
date, and at what time of day the tournament is to be held :
aud also under whose auspices. Give a list of the events
— such as men's singles, doubles, women's singles, mixed
doubles, or whatever there is to be; state the requirements
for entrances, and give the date when entries close. Be
sure to give the name and address of the person who has
been assigned to receive these entries. State also in the no-
tice the hours of play, the number of sets to the match, the
kind of balls that are to be used, aud announce any special
regulations that it may have been found necessary to
adopt. Finally, enumerate the prizes; but remember that
it is always in better taste to make these inexpensive aud
more iu the nature of souvenirs of the occasion than
trophies.
706
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE NOTICES DISPOSED OF and sent out,
the managers should now see that the courts
are rolled and otherwise put in order, so
tbat they may be in the best possible con-
dition on the day sot for the tournament.
There should be a plentiful supply of halls,
for sometimes an entire box is used in a
match. In large tournaments I have seen
the players dispose of a box every set. At
each end of the net put up a couple of
chairs on boxes for the umpires, and arrange
seats about the court for the spectators.
If there are not enough chairs and benches
handy, lay boards on boxes, and so produce
impromptu setters. Don't fail to hire a
couple of boys to pick up the balls.
ALL THESE DETAILS ARE necessary ones ;
there are a few others that might be termed
luxuries, such as having printed tickets and
programmes, and an awning stretched along
one side of the court to shelter the ladies
from the sun. One more necessary point,
however, is to secure competent judges and
umpires, otherwise something might occur
during play that would mar the pleasure of
the day. Of course it would be a misunder-
standing, but this can be easily avoided by
having officials fully conversant with the
game and familiar with the duties required
of them.
AFTER ALL THE RXTHIES have been re-
ceived, raalie the drawings, and, if possible,
post them somewhere where all those in-
terested in tiie coming tournament will be
able to see them. When, on the day set,
the hour to begin play arrives, start prompt-
ly. Delay is always fatal to the success of
any sporting event. People don't like to sit
around and wait. But all that I have said
here is merely in the line of suggestion.
Many little matters crop up as soon as any
enterprise of this kind is entered iuto, and
these questions have to be settled accord-
ing to the emergency. Let the central idea
De to anticipate' anything that might hap-
pen; then, as a rule, nothing will happen.
THE GRADUATE.
This Department is coti.hu tt:<l in Hie interest of stamp and coin
collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on
these subjects so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor
Stamp Department.
HOW TO CATCH CLOUDS.
7th.
llth.
14th.
ITth.
21st.
2Sth.
31st.
About
this
time
look
oat
for
storms.
THIS was usually the weather warning
in the old -time almanacs which the
farmer was intho habit of consulting night-
ly, in order to make his plans for his haying
or harvesting, his sowing or reaping, the
success of which depended on the state of
the weather.
The amateur photographer who makes a
specialty of landscapes should put this
warning iu his note-book, substituting the
word clouds for that of storms, changing it
to read, " About this time look out for
clouds."
A picture of a landscape with clouds in
the sky is much finer than where the sky is
perfectly white, and cloud pictures them-
selves are very interesting.
It is not an easy matter to catch the
clouds even when the sky is full of them.
If they are obtaiued iu the negative, they
are usually lost in the printing, as the land-
scape portion of the negative, being less
PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN IN THE TYROL, SHOWING
CLOUD EFFECT.
dense than the sky, prints much more quick-
ly, and to obtain a print of the clouds the
lines of the landscape would be almost black
from over-printing.
There is a device called a " cloud-catch-
er," which is a shutter so arranged with ad-
justable disks that the foreground or laud-
scape part of the picture is given a time
exposure, while the sky is taken instanta-
neously. This is supposed to give the
proper tiuie of exposure for each part of the
picture.
The amateur cannot always afford such
an attachment, and, in order to obtain
clouds in his landscapes, must resort to va-
rious devices of developing and printing.
The most common method is to take two
pictures, one exposed for the sky, and tho
other for the landscape, and print from
both negatives. In printing from a " sky "-
and-" landscape" negative, print the sky
li-st. covering the part of the sensitive paper
•_>n which the landscape is to be printed.
After printing the sky, place the other
negative iu the frame and print the land-
scape. It does not matter if the opaque
paper which covers the landscape does not
follow the horizon lines exactly, as the
darker tones of the landscape will bint nut
tlie outlines of the clouds if they lap on the
horizou.
If one has a negative where the clouds
are good but will not print out unless tho
rest of the picture is over-printed, a good
print may be obtained by this simple de-
vice : Take an empty tin-can a little longer
than the printing-frame. Cut off the inp
and bottom, and cut the can iu two the long
way. Tliis will give you a piece of rolled
tin. Flatten one edge, leaving the other
curved. Attach the flat edge to the side of
the printing-frame so as to shield the laud-
scape part of the negative. This will make
a shade for this part of the negative, which
prints the fastest, and thus retard the
printing, allowing the denser portions a
longer time to print. A shaded negative
should always be printed iu diffused light,
not iu the direct rays of the sun.
Pictures of clouds, or ratber,/a/se clouds,
are made by holding the negative over the
llame of a caudle and letting the glass side
become covered with lamp-black. Then,
with a soft tuft of cotton, wipe oft' the smoke
in places, leaving the outlines of clouds on
the glass. Very good clouds can be made
by this method with a little practice. Au-
other way is to attach a piece of fine tissue-
paper to the negative and sketch clouds in
the sky portion, unless the sky is very dense.
A thin sky is often improved by these sham
clouds.
The picture which we reproduce here was
taken 115- Sir Knight Sidney Stearns, of
Cleveland, Ohio. It was taken at Halle in
the Tyrol, time nearly sunset. The sun, as
may lie seen by looking at the picture,
is at the left of the camera and well
1n\\ard the front. This is usually the best
direction from which the strongest light
should tall, either from the left or right and
near the front of the camera. Oueslmnlil
seldom or never take a picture with the
sun directlv behind the camera.
ADVERTISEMENTS.
Highest of all in Leavening Power. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Baking
Powder
ABSOLUTELY PURE
WONDER CABINET FREE. Missin* Link
Poiila Devil's Bottle. Pocket Camera, Uuit
WlwPnwte, Spook Photos. Book of Sleigbtof
Hand, Total Value GOc. Sent free with immenM
'
707
HARPER'S BOUND TABLE
route.
lul /*/• b/cyc/e foaa.
tvdy station.
BICYCLING
c o
Copyright, 1S95, by Harper & Brothers.
This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will be pleased to
answer any question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly
supplied from the official maps and road-bonks of the League of American Wheelmen. Recog-
nizing the value of the work being done by the L A. W., the Editor will be pleased to furnish
subscribers with membership blanks and information so far aa possible.
fT^HE FINAL RUN IJCTO Albany on the road from New York,
JL according to the plan which we have been following —
that is, of making the journey in four days — is from Hud-
son to Albany, a distance of twenty-eight to thirty miles.
Leaving Hudson, which was the northernmost point reach-
ed on last week's map, the rider goes out on to the main
road by the way of Fourth Street and Pond Road, and
thence follows the telegraph poles direct to Stockport,
passing through Stottville. The road is hilly while run-
ning from the town of Hudson, and about half-way from
Stottville to Stockport there is another rather stiff hill.
The distance is a little over five miles, and the road is poor,
on the whole, owing to its rolling nature and the fact that
the road-bottom is largely clay. From Stockport to Stuy-
vesaut Falls it improves a little, though it is somewhat
hilly. The rider should follow the telegraph poles all the
way, and keep a sharp lookout for L.A.W. signs, which will
be of great assistance wherever they are found. This rim
is ahout three and three-quarters or four miles, and the
uext stage, from Stuyvesaut Falls to Kiuderhook, is four
miles. There is no difficulty in following the road,
with the possible exception of an abrupt fork about one
and one-half or two miles out of Stuyvesant Falls. Here,
of course, the rider should keep to the right on the main,
road. From Kiuderhook to Pine Grove is a little under five
miles. Keep to the left at Kiuderhook after leaving the
Kinderhook Hotel, keeping always to the Albany Post Koad
with the telegraph poles. Thence continue from Pine
Grove to Schodack Centre, and -when you have made four
and one-half miles, and crossed two small bridges, turn to
the right at Willow Trees, whence the run to Schodack
Centre is clearly marked, a distance, in all, of a little over
eight miles. From here the run to the Hudson, opposite
Albany, passes through East Greenhush, three miles away,
and finally brings up at the Hudson at South Bridge, a
little less than five miles further. This last stage of
the journey is somewhat hilly again, and there is a bad
descent just before reaching Greenbush, where the rider
should take the utmost care, owing to the fact that the
hill itself is bad, and the difficulty complicated by a rail-
road crossing. On reaching the Hudson the rider should
cross on South Bridge, and running into Albany turn into
Broadway, thence to State Street, thence to North Pearl
Street, and finally put up at the Keumore Hotel.
WHILK THIS RUN FROM New York to Albany is in parts
hilly, and while occasionally the rider will strike a bit of
difficult road, it is nevertheless one of the best bicycle trips
in the United States, not only on account of the condition
of the roads, but on account of its picturesque and his-
torical interest. As was said last week, any one who in-
tends to take the trip, or who can give the time to it, is
strongly advised to take a week to do it in, to cross the
Hudson several times on the way, and make short runs into
the country on the other side. It is possible in this way
for a rider of reasonable experience to see practically the
whole of the Hudson River valley between these two points,
and to have a fine outing without doing too much "scorch-
ing," or, on the other hand, taking the journey too slowly.
The distance from New York to Albany, or rather from
Central Park and 110th Street to the Kenmore Hotel, is
one hundred and fifty-three and three-quarter miles, and
by taking seven or eight days to the trip, the rider cau
easily cover three to four hundred miles in his excursions
off the main route.
NOTK.— Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of
route from New York to Tarrvtown in No. 810. New York to Stamford.
Connecticut, in No. Sll. New York to Staten Islaiid in No. 812. New
Jersey from Hobokeu to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in NIL M4
Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Nortbport in No. 816.
Tarrvtown to Poughkeepsie in No. 317. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in.
No. SIS.
708
HAKPEK'S ROUND TABLE
THE
HPUDDING
STICK
Tliis Department is con.lucted in the interest of Girla and Young
Woinpn, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on
the subject ao fur as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.
I HA YE talked to you about notes aud
letters iu a previous number of the pa-
per, but some of my ROUND TABLE readers
ask to have the subject treated again, with
special atteutiou to correspondence of a
ceremonious character.
A note of invitation should be very cor-
dial, affectionate, and explicit. You should
state clearly in such a note the day aud
train which you would like your friend to
take, and the length of time you expect her
to stay with you. Formerly it was regard-
ed as inhospitable to limit in any way the
duration of a frieud's visit, but we under-
stand now that it is more convenient aud
comfortable for all concerned to have the
precise number of days or weeks indicated.
This arrangement enables your friends to
make other engagements, aud leaves you
free to invite other friends if, as often hap-
pens, you can have the pleasure of euter-
taiuing successive guests during a summer.
Let me give you some examples.
Mary Hills wishes to ask Abby Lewis to
spend a week with her at Dove's Nest in
the Catskills, Mary's country home. Her
letter of iuvitation might be written as fol-
lows:
DOVE'S NKBT, TANNERSVILI.E P.O.,
NEW YOKK.
DEAREST ABBY, — It seems very long
since I saw you. Mamma and I were talk-
ing last night about the delightful visit we
had at your home just before the Vau Blar-
•coms went abroad. It is very lovely at
Dove's Nest now, and we are anxious to
have you see the pla.ce while our sweet-
pease and nasturtiums are in bloom. Won't
you come on Thursday, the twentieth, by
the ten-o'clock train (West Shore), and stay
with me till Monday, the thirty- first? I
will meet you at the station on Thursday
afternoon. We have a new golf course, aud
1 sorts of pleasant things are going on.
Hoping soon to see you, I am, dear Abby,
Yours lovingly,
MARY HILLS.
July fifteenth, eighteen —
Abby's reply would probably be sorne-
•what like this:
1S2 SEVENTY-EIGUTH STREET, NEW YORK.
DEAR, DEAR MAUY, — How good you are
to ask uie for so charming a visit! It will
give me the greatest pleasure to go to yon
on the twentieth aud to stay for ten days,
as you suggest. You may expect to see me
flying down the station to meet you when
the ten-o'clock train reaches the mountains
on that afternoon. I can hardly wait for
the blissful time to arrive. Mamma sends
her love, and I am, as ever,
Devotedly yours,
ABBY LEWIS.
A household critic suggests to ine at this
point that " Dearest Abby " aud " Dear,
•dear Mary," are rather gushing, aud not
quite in the approved literary style which
ought to be shown to girls. But I am talk-
lug to real girls, aud I know how they write,
and I don't mind in the least a little effer-
vescence in the way of adjectives. I like
girls to call me "Dearest" when they write
to me, aud I don't mind their saying " Dear"
to one another over aud over again.
How much luggage you must take wheu
going on a visit depends on the length of
the visit and the number of engagements it
will include. As a rule, iu our changeable
climate you will need, iu going away from
home, something thick and something thin.
A trunk is a great comfort, though one can
manage with a large bag or a telescope,
while a man's suit-case lends itself finely to
the folding of a girl's gown.
With two or three pretty shirt-waists
and a nice skirt, a simple dress for evenings,
and a warm stuff costume of serge or flan-
nel for cool or rainy mornings, a girl will
be supplied for every needful requirement.
One's own dainty home wardrobe is suf-
ficient for a visit, and if the sailor hat be
trim, the shoes and gloves in order, and the
girl carry herself gracefully, nobody will
think a second time about her dress.
As soon as possible after a journey lay
aside your travelling dress, and make a fresh
toilette before joining the family. Try to
ascertain the family habits, aud conform to
them.
I heard not long ago of a girl, said to
be very clever and bright, who exclaimed :
"Make my own bed! Why, I wouldn't
know how to begin ! I couldn't get the
sheets on straight !" She wasn't a Pudding
Stick girl of mine, I'm happy to say. More
on this subject next time.
SICKNESS AMONG CHILDREN
is prevalent at all seasons of the year, but can be
avoided largely when they are properly cared for.
/«/a?iC Health, is the title of a valuable pamphlet
accessible to all who will send address to the
New York Condensed Milk Co., N. Y. City.— [Adv.]
ADVERTISEMENTS.
ne £AJ> Go
MISSES' ANCHILDREN'S
Wash
Suits
GREATLY REDUCED PRICES,
?
NEW YORK.
1 in 6l.
Trilby's Foot
was perfect (perhaps
yours is), but even per-
fect feet get tired, and
nothing takes out the
tired aches like Pond's
Extract.
Avoid substitutes; accept genuine only,
with bull wrapper and yellow label.
POND'S EXTRACT CO., 76 Filth Ave., New York.
Jlostnge dtnmps, &c.
fififw^S 100 all dif. Venezuela, Costa Hicn, etc., only
FSf 1 1 ra inc. ; 200 all dif. Hayti, Hawaii, etc. ,only BOc.
VJIMl'jIJjJ Api'tswautedatSOperctcom. ListPREE!
MJUUBfl C.A.Stegm«nn,2722BadsAv.,St.Loai8,Mo.
t f\f\ all different, China, etc., lOc.; 5 Saxony, lOc.:
I 40 Spain, 40c.; 6 Tunis, Uc.; 10 TJ. 8. Rev-
I WU ennes, We. Agts. vvtd., 60* com.; '95 list free.
CRITTENOEN & BORG MAN CO., Detroit, Mich.
the best things in Prose and Poetry, always includ-
ing good Songs and Hymns. It is surprising how
little good work of this kind seems to be done in
the Schools, if one must judge from the small num-
ber of people who can repeat, without mistake or
omission, as many as Three good songs or hymns-
and accurate Memory work is a most excellent
thing, whether in School or out of it. among all ages
and all classes. But let that which is so learned be
worth learning and worth retaining. The Franklin
Square Song Collection presents a large number of
and Hymns, in great variety and very carefully
selected, comprising Sixteen Hundred in the Eight
Numbers thus far issued, together with much
choice aud profitable Reading Matter relating to
Music and Musicians. In the complete and varied
which is sent free on application to the Publishers,
there are found dozens of the best things in the
World, which are well worth committing to mem-
ory; and they who know most of such good things,
and appreciate and enjov them most, are really
among the best educated people in any country.
They have the best result of Education. "For above
Contents, with sample pages of Music, address
Harper & Brothers, New York.
709
PRIZE = STORY COMPETITION.
SECOND=PRIZE STORY.
An Exciting Game. By Nancy Howe Wood.
IT was wlien I was a struggling young physician iu ;t
small country town that I passed through au adventure
which I would not care to repeat, although now I can
plainly see its humorous aspect.
I hail but shortly before graduated from a medical col-
lege, and was trying hard to get my living in a little vil-
lage when- there were two other older and more experi-
enced doctors. I was becoming greatly disheartened, when
.one day, on my return from a visit to a poor woman, of the
village, I found au official-looking letter awaiting me. I
opened it with some degree of excitement, and was aston-
ished to find that it was an offer to me of the position of
resilient physician in the Blaukville Insane Asylum, sit-
uated about two miles away. A salary was named which
seemed a fortune to me, poverty-stricken as I then was. (I
afterwards learned that the offer was made to rue through
the ei't'cirts (if an influential friend.)
At first the letter gave me unlimited joy, and I shouted like
a seli'Hil-lmy : but when I began to think what it would
actually mean my heart sank. All my life I had had a ner-
vous horror of insane persons, and if I should accept this
offer I would he obliged to stay with them, cat with them,
and live among them almost as one of themselves. At this
thought I fairly shuddered, and was forced to confess to
myself that I could never endure such a strain on my
nerves, doctor though I was.
The next morning, however, when I again read the letter,
the offer seemed so tempting that I saiil tn ni\ --elf: "Pshaw!
I will not be conquered by an attack of nerves. Come,
brace yourself up, num. Why, a few years at that salary
will be enough to set you up for life!" Nevertheless, I de-
termiued to go up the following day, and luol ortr the place
I ie lure deciding on my final answer.
So early the next morning I presented myself at the asy-
lum, all my nervousness gone. I was so politely shown
about, and everything looked so orderly and well cared for,
and the grounds without seemed so peaceful and quiet,
that I was delighted with it all. My misgivings hail al-
most vanished, and I had so nearly made up my mind to ac-
cept the lucrative offer, that I said to the smiling and
complaisant guard who was acting as my guide :
" Tell the superintendent that if he will kindly allow me
to stroll iu the garden and think the matter over, I will
give him my final answer within the hour." So saying, I
be^an to pace up and down the flower-bordered walks.
I was by this time in such a well-satisfied frame of mind
that I promptly dispelled the last remnants of my former
ller\ iillstiens.
I was just on the point of re-entering the asylum to say
to I lie Superintendent that I gratefully accepted his offer
when I was startled by the si in ml of crackling twins belli ml
me. Turning quickly. I found myself face to lace with a
man whom I supposed at first to be one of the guards. But
as sunn as I moved away from him to go toward the house
lie sprang forward with baud outstretched to clutch me,
uttering an idiotic chuckle. Cold shivers chased up ami
don n my back as the thought Hashed upon me that it was
au escaped patient ! With a shriek I ran down the path at
the top of my speed, my fear increased by the sound of pur-
suing steps behind me.
I doubled and tinned on the track, striving to distance
or elude m\ dreaded pursuer, but iu spite of my frantic ef-
forts, he kept closely at my heels. Finally in one, of my
windings 1 was confronted by the six-foot stone wall that
surrounded the asylum on every side. Glanciii", back-
ward, I saw that the maniac — as I now knew him to be —
was almost upon me, and, making a desperate effort, I suc-
ceeded iu reaching the top of the wall. For a moment I
fancied myself secure ; but my pursuer darted behind the
shrubbery, and pulled out a small ladder, evidently used by
the gardeners. Seeing him thus prepared to follow me, I
hurriedly dropped to the ground outside, and scrambled to
my feet just as the lunatic's head appeared above the top
of the Avail. Again I had only a short start before he was
once more on my track.
And now began au exciting race " over brush, brake, and
brier"; sometimes I stumbled over a protruding root and
fell headlong, but was up again iu a twinkling ; sometimes
my pursuer was so close upon me that I could easily hear
his panting breath. At the eud of the first mile and a
quarter I thought myself done for, but my college training,
which, luckily, I had not forgotten, stood me iu good stead,
and I desperately ran on.
" Oh," thought I, wildly, " where are the villagers ? Isn't
anybody near ?" But there was no road leading out of the
village in that direction, and few people passed that way.
At last, after years, it seemed to me, we entered the village,
and tore at full speed down the main street. If I had long-
ed before for some human soul to help me, I now as earnest-
ly prayed that I might unobserved gain my own door, and
so be safe. But no; some small boy, busily engaged doing
nothing, soon raised the cry,
" Say, here comes the fresh young doctor a-teariug down
the street like a steam-engine!"
Then, almost tired out, and seeing the< door of a small
house standing open, I dashed in, passed through the hall
and dining-room, where the astonished family were sitting
at dinner, and out into the back yard, where, completely
exhausted, aud utterly unable to run a step further, I
dropped behind a ban el.
My hope had been that the people of the house would
have understood my predicament and stopped the madman,
but they evidently had not taken in the situation, or else
he had been too quick for them, for from behind the barrel
where I had concealed myself I could hear him come through
the open doorway aud search the yard for me.
And now I feared that my panting breath would betray
me — and it did, for I heard his stealthy steps approach the
spot where I lay quaking, and his ugly, leering face peered
round at me, and he sprang forward and touched me, call-
ing out, as I fell back almost fainting with terror: " Tug!
Yiiu'rc it!"
In an instant the meaning of his words flashed over me,
aud I cursed myself for my foolish nervousness. The con-
founded fool had taken it for a game of tag!
By this time quite a little crowd of villagers had gather-
ed around me, and the escaped lunatic was secured to wait
for the arrival of his keeper, and I managed to reach my
home, after being fortified by a glass of wiue.
It was several days before my nerves recovered their
usual steadiness, and it is perhaps needless to add that I
did not accept the situation.
"Jibe
IfoauiX
The Lancelot Chapter, of Newtonville, Mass., has nine members
aud each earned twenty-five cents. Then the Chapter added a little,
and the secretary funvarded £3 with the best of Lancelot w>he>
Names of the contributors are Ella A. Gould, Marion Drew Bassett.
Adella J. Sauuderson, Ethel T. Gammous, Alice L. Harrison, Esther
H. Dyson. Lulu I'lmer, Mabel Glazier, aud Hazel L. Bobbins.
The Edisou Chapter, of Bangor, Me., send $2 for the Fund. This
Fund is, you kuow. to help build the Bound Table Industrial School-
house at Good Will Farm, where poor boys are educated. The
Table is raising this Fund, and it asks contributions from all who
want, first, to help chivalrous young persons who are trying to help
others, aud second, to help in the best possible way boys who need
help.
Any sums, sent by anybody, will be thankfully received aud ac-
knowledged in the Table. Members of the Edison Chapter, which
sent the S- the other day. earned the money folding aud carrying
papers, getting out ashes, and washing dishes — truly practical
methods of being truly generous.
Founders of the Order of the Round Table want $1000 to complete
this School Fund. Who will help them?
no
HAEPEE'S EOUXD TABLE
From Some Far-Away Members.
The Table loves to hear from far-distaut places,
and to have members tell us how their country
looks, and what the people do. Here is news from
three friends :
SPKI.VG CEKKK, M*ELBoBOfGB, XEW ZEALAND.
New Zealand is a far-away country to you, yet I
have seen some letters from here. The town I live
near is not very large. It is subject to floods, and
last year the water came thirteen times into some
of the shops. I have not travelled about much, so
I cannot describe to you my journeys as many
other girls do. The North Island of New Zealand
is very volcanic, especially near the centre. There
are many hot springs there, some just warm, and
others boiling. The Maories, as the natives are
called, boil their potatoes in them, by letting them
down into the springs in baskets.
Out of one of the volcanic mountains the lava
that streamed down the sides was a pale pink. It
was formed into terraces all down the mountain-
side. On another mountain it was much the same,
only the terraces were white. A few years ago a
great eruption caused them to entirely disu|.)»-;ir.
Since then some brown ones have begun to form,
but they are very inferior to the former ones.
\Vheu the eruption took place there were loud
noises heard almost all over New Zealand. Many
people who lived near were welluigh smothered
with mud, and for miles the country was covered
with ashes and mud, in many places several feet
thick. Host of the deposit was of a steel-gray
color, and just like knife -polish in texture. My
younger sister and I collect stamps. As yet we
have very few. I have seen letters asking for
girls to write and exchange stamps. I would
much like some girls to write to me, and send the
stamps of their countries. In return I will send
them New Zealand ones. JEAN CHATTOB.
BLENHEIM, MABLBOBOUGH, NEW ZEALAND.
I am collecting stamps, and would be glad if any
girls would write to me and send me some stamps
of their country, and I will send them some of
mine. There is a Maori pah about two miles from
here. Some time ago the chief died, and they had
a great tangi, which lasted for a fortnight. In old
times Maoris used to bury their dead head down
and all their goods with them, and then stick a
cauoe at the head of the grave.
CONSTANCE CHATTOR.
BLENHEIM, MAHLBOROUI;H, NEW ZEALAND.
There was a chrysanthemum show here last
Thursday, and there were some lovely flowers at it.
I think the chrysanthemums are beautiful ttuwcrs.
especially the Japanese ones. We have big floods
in Blenheim. I think they are great fun, but they
do great damage, especially to the farms. Once
•when we had a big flood my sister was sitting <m
the bed taking off her boots. She forgot about the
water, and dropped her boots into it, and they float-
ed about the house all night.
A month ago Rev. Mr. Brittain, a Melanesian mis-
sionary, and twenty-two Melanesia!! boys came to
Blenheim; only a few of the boys could speak
English. The others speak Mota. It was interest-
ing hearing all about the islands. At Norfolk Isl-
and there is a large college. There is also a beau-
tiful church. All the seats are inlaid with mother-
of-pearl. Last summer all our family and several
others went down to White's Bay, which is about
ten miles from Blenheim, camping. We had three
tents. We staid two weeks, and had a splendid
time. I collect stamps, and would be very glad if
any of the girls would write to me and send some,
and I in return would send them some New Zea-
land ones. MILLIE DOBSON.
* *
Chin-Kiang, China.
I wrote a long letter which was accepted for
publication in the Table, and every time I get a
new number I look for it, but am always disap-
pointed. In the last one there was a letter from
Juliet Bredon, with whom I spent several weeks
in Japan, which interested me very much, and
made me wish all the more to see mine in print. It
will be soon, won't it ? I will write something more
about Chiu-Kiang by-and-by if it will interest . >t lin-
members of the Table. MILDRED C. JONES.
Your letter shall appear in due time. Yes. tell
us more about China, and the Chinese. We are
much interested— all of us.
IVORY 5 GAP
IT FLOATS
When you pack for the sea shore or the mountains, fill a tray of
your trunk with Ivory Soap and require your laundress to use it.
Light summer garments should be washed only with a pure white
soap.
THE PROCTER & GAMBLE Co.. OINTI.
The KOAXBI
GALLONS FOR 25 ;
Not of the preparations of coloring =
matter and essential oils so often 3
si ild under the name of rootbeer, s
but of the purest, most delicious, =
health-giving beverage possible to
produce. One gallon of Hires' is
worth ten of the counterfeit kind.
Suppose an imitation extract costs
five cents less than the genuine
Hires; the same amount of sugar
and trouble is required; you save
one cent a gallon, and — get an un-
healthful imitation in theend. Ask i
: for HIKES and get it.
HIRES
I Rootbeer
THE i Hvs. E. HIRES CO., Philadelphia.
aiiilililllllllllllllllliiin
Carry in pocket. Takes 25 perfect pictures
in one loading— re-loading costs 20c. Ask
your dealer for it, or send for free booklet
All About the Kombi."
ALFRED C. KEMPER,
Branches: London, Berlin. 132-134 Lake Street, Chicago
YOL can m*kfl money with it. A font of
>rttty type, also Indelible Ink, Type Holder; Pads
ind Tweezers. Rest Linen Marker; worth (1 00
Sample ranl.d FKKE for lUc. stamps for posUfeon
outfit and large catalogue of 1000 Bargains.
U.ll. liifiTsullA, Ilru. GaCortludt St.N.Y. City
UC»D
II CM lid
„ than all other ie-
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711
THE BABY ELEPHANT'S MISADVENTURE, OR THE SATISFACTION OF HAVING AN EFFICIENT PARENT.
A SAFE METHOD.
THE treasures of the Bank of France are said to be bet-
ter guarded than those of any other bank iu the world. At
the close of business hours every day, when the money is
put into the vaults in the cellar, masons at ouce wall up
the doors with hydraulic mortar. Water is then turned ou
and kept running until the cellar is flooded. A burglar
would have to work in a diving suit and break down a cem-
ent wall before he could even start to loot the vaults.
When the officers arrive the next morning, the water is
drawn off, the masonry is torn down, and the vaults opened.
AN INDIAN TRADITION.
HERE is an Indian version of the story of the flood, as it
was taken by a writer connected with au Australian jour-
nal. Says he : "All of the northern coast Indians have a tra-
dition of a flood which destroyed all mankind except a pair
from which the earth was peopled. Each tribe gives the
story a local coloring, but the plot of the story is much the
same. The Bella Coola tradition is as follows : The Cre-
ator of the universe, Mes-mes-sa-la-nik, had great difficulty
in the arrangement of the laud and water. The earth per-
sisted iu sinking out of sight. At last he hit upon a plan
which worked very well. Taking a long line of twisted
walrus hide, he tied it around the dry laud, and fastened
the other end to the corner of the moon. Everything
worked well for a long time ; but at last the Spirit became
very much offended at the action of mankind, and in a fit
of auger one day seized his great stone knife, and with a
uiighty hack severed the rope of twisted skin. Immediate-
ly the land began to sink into the sea. The angry waves
rushed in torrents up the valleys, and in a short time no-
thing was visible except the peak of a very high mountain.
All mankind perished in the whelming waters, with the ex-
ception of two, a man and his wife, who were out fishing iu
a great canoe. These two succeeded in reaching the top
.of the mountain, and proceeded to make themselves at
home. Here they remained for some time, until the anger
.of Mes-mes-sa-la-nik had cooled, which resulted in his fish-
ing up the severed thong and again fastening it to the
moon. From this pair thus saved the earth was again
populated."
WHERE IT WENT.
LUNATICS often assume a superiority of intellect to others
which is quite amusing. A gentleman travelling in Eng-
land some years ago, while walking along the road not
far from the side of which there ran a railway, encountered
a number of insane people out for exercise iu charge of a
keeper. With a nod toward the railway tracks, he said to
one of the lunatics,
•• Where does this railway go to ?"
The lunatic looked at him scornfully a moment, and then
replied:
" It don't go anywhere. We keep it here to rim trains
on."
A HUGE PIE.
THE largest pie ever known was that described iu the
Newcastle Clironide for the 6th January, 1770. It was
shipped to Sir Henry Gray, Baronet, London, Mrs. Dor-
othy Patterson, housekeeper at Hawic, being the maker.
Into the composition of this great pie entered two bushels
of flour, twenty pounds of butter, four geese, two turkeys,
two rabbits, four wild ducks, two woodcocks, six snipe, four
partridges, two ueats' tongues, two curlews, seven black-
birds, and six pigeons. It weighed twelve stone, and was
nine feet in circumference at the bottom. It was furnished
with a case on wheels, for convenience in passing it round
to the guests.
The receipt for this pie is given here as a hint to those
of our readers who may be thinking of getting up a picnic
within the next two or three weeks. A half dozen pies of
this size ought to be enough for at least one picnic.
A STRANGE SUIT.
ACCORDING to the Pittsburg Journal, Peter Gruber, the
Rattlesnake King of Veuaugo County, has made the most
unique costume any man ever wore. It consists of coat,
vest, trousers, hat, shoes, and shirt, and is made entirely of
the skins of rattlesnakes. Seveu hundred snakes,all caught
and skinned by Gruber during the past five years, pro-
vided the material for this novel costume. To preserve the
brilliancy and the flexibility of the skins in the greatest
possible degree, the snakes were skinned alive, first being
made unconscious by chloroform. They were then tanned
by a method peculiar to Gruber, and are as soft and elastic
as woollen goods. The different articles for this outfit were
made by Oil City tailors, shoemakers and hatters, and the
costume is valued at §1000.
A FEW NOTES ABOUT COINS.
THE rei of Brazil, like the mill of our own money table,
is an imaginary coin, no piece of that denomination being
coined. Ten thousand reis equal $5 45.
Vermont was the first State to issue a coinage on its own
authority. Copper coins were issued in 1785.
The first woman's face represented on a coin was that of
Pulcheria, the Empress of the Eastern Empire.
The Chinese stamp bars or ingots of gold or silver with
their weight and fineness, and pass them from hand to hand
as coin.
The first Maryland coins were minted iu 1662, and were
put iu circulation by act of Council ordering every house-
holder to bring in sixty pounds of tobacco and receive ten
shillings of the new money in exchange for it.
In 1634 the Massachusetts General Assembly made bul-
Lets a legal tender by the following enactment: "It is like-
wise ordered that muskett bulletts of a full boare shall
pass currently for a farthing apiece. Provided that uoe
man be compelled to take above Xlld att a tyme in them."
712
. . ZaE^A - rCJ ~- -"
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, bv HA
All Rizhts Reserve.!.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 820.
NEW YORK. TUESDAY, JULY 16. 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY
TWO DOLLARS A TEtAH.
HOW JACK LOCKETT WON HIS SPURS.
BY G. T. FERRIS.
A STORY OF THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR FOUNDED ON FACT.
THE chips flew merrily under Jack Locke tt's axe to tlie
tune of his whistling, for he was chopping the night's
supply of firewood, and the dark was shutting down apace
on the cold January day. He had already made the horse
and the cows snug in the barn, and his young appetite was
sharp sot for the supper which would be ready with the
finish of his chores. He looked out on the dreary waters
of the bay with the gleam of a dull twilight on them, and
saw shining through the dusk a white sail skimming shore-
ward. " Some belated fisherman. Br-r-r, how cold it must
be out there !" Jack said to himself, as he breathed on his
frosted fingers and smote the wood with still harder strokes.
This stalwart lad of fourteen, with his fearless blue eyes
and tanned face, looked more than his years, for he lived in
parlous times, which ripened men early. His father, Col-
onel Lockett, of the Connecticut line, was away with the
army in winter-quarters at Valley Forge, and his young sun
had to shoulder a heavy burden. He could not yet carry a
firelock in battle, perhaps, but he could toil patiently for
his mother aud sisters, with many a sigh that there was no
beard to his chin, while his brave father faced cold and
hunger in camp or the lead and steel of the redcoats in the
field. When he had lugged in the last armful of t':r-"'--
and sat down at the smoking supper table, the common
thought found vent on his lips.
" I feel as if I couldn't eat a thing, hungry as I am, mo-,
ther, when I remember dear old daddy at Valley Forge.
They say that General Washington himself has scant ra-
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
tiniis. ami ini'ii die every day from Ininger. What '11 be the
<-nd of \t all?"
" IVrhaps tin1 stories belie the truth" (there hadn't been
:i \viinl from the absent soldier for mouths), said the mo-
ther, trying to keep Ijaek the tears. "But look — look,
Jark.al the window!" with almost a shriek. "That face!
Whin, is it?"
The cold had begun to coat the glass with a crystal veil.
Somebody stood out there, and by melting the frost with
the breath, now looked in on them with shadowy features
and gleaming eyes. Jack staved with open mouth at the
apparition. Then, with a wild whoop, and a spring which
almost upset the table, lie yelled," Why, don't, you see it's
daddy come home ?" and executed a "war-dance of joy to the
door.
Colonel Lockett was almost eaten up by his wife and
children before be was permitted to retaliate on the savory
dishes of the supper table. He had been all day in an open
boat on the water (the unsuspecting Jack had had a
glimpse of him), and without food since daybreak.
'"Twas unsafe to cross the enemy's lines by land," he
said, with a sigh of delicious contentment, sitting before the
great blazing crackling hearth ami looking into the loving
tares of his young people aud their mother. "To get
through even as far as Sandy Hook was a narrow shave of
capture. So, then, 'twas off uniform and on fisherman's
suit, lent me by a kind heart, who also gave me a cast in
his dory to the Great South Bay. Thence across Long Isl-
and to Glen Cove, aud 'twas easy there to find a sail-boat to
fetch me home over the Sound."
"And you didn't know of the British ship Tartar lying
off the place, here ?" said Jack, with wonder and alarm.
"Not till too late. And having thus ventured, 'twould
have been a coward's job to have gone back," answered
the father, with a smile.
"But," said Mrs. Lockett, with a face as white as the
suow without, "you're not in uniform. Should you bo
taken?" Even the youngest of the children knew what
that meant, and they shuddered with the vision of him they
loved standing with the fatal noose about his neck amidst
the jeers'of a brutal soldiery.
"Tut, tut, good wife," quoth the Colonel, gayly. "These
be but soldiers' risks, aud, trust me, the hemp you fear is
not yet spun. And now away with grewsome thoughts.
Tell me how you make matters here, for I've long been
•without news."
" Lackaday," said the wife, "'tis hut a dull story. All
the good-men away, and none but lads and grandfathers to
till the fields and care for the women. The Cowboys and
the Skinners* scour the country like wolves. What the
one leaves the other takes. We've suffered with our neigh-
bors, but bear it lightly, dear heart, for thought of you all
in the thick of the trouble."
"No tongue can speak what the poor fellows endure,"
said the soldier. " Uniforms in rags, without blankets to
keep 'em warm at night, scarcely one good meal a day,
shoeless feet that drip blood a-walking post in the snow.
His Excellency had me to dinner the night before I left
camp. One tough smoked goose for eight, but 'twas wash-
ed down with the General's choice Madeira. Tears came
to his brave patient eyes as he talked. 'Oh, for some
brave heroic deed,' he. said, 'some dashing stroke, some-
thing to shoot a thrill of cheer through these downcast
spirits ! 'Twonld be better, methiuks, than the coming of a
great supply traiu.' Even Ins irou soul sometimes falters.
And now, .lack, about the Tartar. Docs she trouble the
country overmuch ? I made a long beat to 'scape the look-
out."
The boy clinched his teeth. "'Tis a brazen jackanapes,
that Captain Askew. His boat parties do as much mis-
chief as the Cowboys. There's scarcely a ham left in tin-
place from the Christmas killing. Only two days since I
" Durintr the Revolution I here were gangs of ruffian?, little less than
bandits, who spr.-ml terror iluoiiL'ti the region adjupent t lie field occn-
I'ied liv tin1 tinnles. Within ;i radius ot twenty miles troni New York
ihen in possession of the I'.iitish, these bands were dllbhed Cowboys and
Skinners, the first nommiilly Tories, the olhcrs Patriots, both outcasts
whose only thought was plunder.
impress me on the Tcirttn- for a powder-monkey. There
was a scowl on his red face. ' Look* ye, yon rebel spawn,
they say your father calls himself a Colonel under Mr.
Washington. Some day I shall come and take ye aboard
to serve his Majesty, and introduce ye to his Majesty's
faithful servant, the cat.'" The boy stoppc-d. and then
started as if sunn-thing burned him. " Oh. daddy, think of
what General Washington said ! If we could only — "
The same thought leaped like an electric spark between
t'.tem — brave father and gallant boy. No need of words.
Eye flashed it to eye. To capture and destroy the Tartar
— a small matter indeed in the sum of the struggle, but
might it not be like a spark of flame in dead dry wood to
kindle fire and hope?
Colonel Lockett lay quietly at home during a -whole
week. Scarcely a soul seemed to know of his coming. Bnt
Jack took long rides, to his mother's wonderment, by night
and by day through the country. The secret talks be-
tween Jack and his father, the look of excitement that
kept his face aglow — some mystery alarmed her. At last
she learned with terror of the enterprise afloat to cut out
the British ship, and she made the boy's father promise that
Jack should not go with the boats.
"No! no!" he said to the agonized lad. "You are my
faithful Lieutenant ashore, but must stay behind from the
attack. Should aught happen to yon, what will come to
your mother and sisters when I am gone 1" Poor Jack bit
bis lip in silence. 'Twas a hard strain on filial obedience,
for his hot young blood had tingled with the thought of
what was to come.
A large barn stood in a lonely place about three miles
from the Lockett house. One night a passer-by would
have fancied something strange going on there. Many a
horse was hitched to the trees of the adjacent wood, lan-
tern-lights twinkled through the crevices, and every few
minutes little groups came up and slipped through the
barn-door. When all had gathered, the tall form of Colonel
Lockett arose in their midst, and the roll was called to see
that none tvas there except those apprised.
"You know what you've come for, friends and neigh-
bors," said he. " We are about to strike a gallant blow for
the good cause. It's not too late for those to withdraw'
who fancy the hazard overbold. For half-armed country-
men to storm a royal ship seems heavy odds of failure. But
courage ou one side aud panic on the other will right the
scales. And there are no better weapons than yours for a
hand-to-hand fight. A pitchfork with a short handle, a
scythe set in a stick, make the best of boarding-pikes. We
need no firelocks. The ship must be taken by surprise,
and carried with a rush. The decks once swept aud the
hatches battened down, and she is ours. There is no moon,
and the air and sky betoken a great snow-storm brewing.
When that comes, whether to-morrow night or later, we at-
tack." And so he gave them stirring words, saying that
this feat would ring like the peal of a trumpet.
He proceeded to tell off the boat-crews, appoint the offi-
cer of each division, and give careful instructions.
"Aud now, old men and beardless boys, it rests with you
to do what will set men's hearts thmnping when 'tis
known," was his parting, as each went his way fired with
the thought of a gallant deed to be done.
The next night proved propitious. It was a thick, wind-
less snow-storm, and the white smudge of flakes blinded
eyesight better than the blackest black. An hour after
midnight the tour whale-boats which floated the expedi-
tion pushed off from the little cove. Jack had gone to the
landing to say " good-by " to his father, his head buzzing
with things that didn't get to his tongue, and, curiously
enough, he had slipped a heavy hatchet under his coat.
" It's for you to be hero at home just now," was the Col-
onel's last word. -'Two years hence, if the struggle still
goes on, my brave lad shall have a chance to strike a blow."
Jack, whose coiiM-ience smote him sorely, mumbled some-
thing as his lather's boat moved out into the storm with
muffled oars. But as the last boat slid iuto deep water the
boy gave a spring and landed in the stern, light as a fea-
ther. '"Sh ! Not a word," said he, in a low voice. "I'm
going if I have to swim."
ru
HARPER'S EOUND TABLE
The officer of tlie boat, an old farmer, who had seen ser-
vice in the French and Indian wars, scratched his gray poll
ill grave doubt. ''Waal, I like yer grit fust rate, and ye
come by it naturally. I guess I'll liev to see ye through, ef
it is agin the Kuruel's orders. But ye ha'nt no we'p'n?"
Jack pulled out his hatchet, and the old chap laughed again
to himself. '• Blessed ef breed don't tell ary time, when
it's a bull-pup.''
The Tartar lay at anchor two miles off the point, and ou
such a blind night, with its smother of snow, it was easy to
miss the goal. Orders had been strict that the boats
should keep bunched together almost within oar's-leugth.
True, the men of the crews knew their waters so well that
they might have bragged they could smell their way to the
frigate over that smooth black pitch like hounds on the
scent. But cockstireness was tricky ou such a night. They
pulled with slow strokes, straining to catch a sound or :i
glimpse. It had begun to get intensely cold, and the spit
of the snow stung their faces and stiffened their fingers.
Jack's young blood was proof against rigor of frost, for his
ears sang with a roaring music, as if a pair of sea-shells had
been clapped against the sides of his skull. His veins beat
like hammer-strokes. He thought he felt a new sensation.
"Can it be I'm afraid ?" he repeated to himself.
No, Jack, fear never conies that way. Fear strikes the
coward to a lump of jelly. What you feel now quivering
to your finger-tips is the thing which gives fire and mettle
to every gallant heart, and nerves the muscles to greater
strength. No tighter worth his salt ever failed of this gal-
loping music in his veins on the eve of action. Whisper to
that gray beard by your side whether he doesn't feel the
same leap of pulse, though his sinews have got stiff at the
plough-tail, and his blood sluggish with years since he smelt
powder. And don't you remember, too, Jack, that you felt
a little of the same sort of thing that time you "pitched
in " and " licked " the hulking bully nearly twice your size,
for insulting the "school-marm," till he bellowed like a
calf?
It seemed that more than an hour must have passed.
Could they have missed the ship, was the thought of all.
This meant failure. There was not the faintest ripple in
the dead silence. But hark ! there suddenly boomed on the
night the sweet muffled notes of a ship's bell, and with it
there was a dim flicker to starboard, as of a light shining
tine. ugh a port-hole. Luck was with them, after all, and
now the time was close at hand. A denser black loomed
against the darkness, vaguely outlining the ship's hull, and
the head-boat grated on the long hawser holding the after
anchor, thrown out to take lip the swing of the ebb-tide.
And hark again! Through the cabin windows, suddenly
thrown open as if for a breath of fresh air, floated the
sounds of laughter and singing, the chorus of a Baccha-
nalian catch. Captain Askew and his subs, late as it was,
were still making merry with song.
"Gad! 'tis dark as Erebus, "said one of the voices at the
grating. " What a night for a cutting-out party !"
A dozen strokes parted the boats to port and starboard,
and they dashed for the ship's sides. Up they swarmed
into the* chains and clambered aboard, though not with the
sailor's light foot. The watch on deck were asleep or dcz-
ing in sheltered nooks. They sprang to arms with a shout,
but were speedily killed or disabled. A dozen lanterns
flashed over the decks as the crew tumbled up out of the
fo'c's'le hatch, for all others had been spiked down. Half
naked, and scarcely awake, they yet fought doggedly. The
Captain and his officers trooped out of the cabin, flustered
with wine, but loaded to the muzzle with pluck, and fell to
with sword and pistol. Colonel Loekett had detailed a
dozen picked men with bags of slugs and powder-canisters
to make ready and wheel around fore and aft a couple of
the deck-carrouades. The assailants were in the waist of
the ship, and the fury of the assault had begun to drive men-
o'-war's men under hatch, for the ship was undermanned,
and the crew somewhat outnumbered. Scythe and pitch-
fork did their work well. It was at this moment that one
of the carronades sent its rain of buckshot into the thick
of the British sailors and completed the rout.
Instantly they had boarded, Jack, swinging his hatchet,
looked about for his father, and pressed forward to his side,
though the Colonel did not see him, thinking him at home
watching with his mother. When Captain Askew made
the dash from the cabiu the two leaders instinctively knew
farh other and crossed blades, for Colonel Loekett had
snatched a cutlass from a fallen sailor. They cut and par-
ried fiercely on the half-lit deck for a few moments, when
the Colonel's foot slipped on the wet wood. That second
would have been his last, but Jack's uplifted hatchet fell
like lightning ou Captain Askew's shoulder, and smote him
flat to the deck. With this the battle was ended.
Colonel Loekett looked on the lad's panting flushed face
with amazement. " Why, Jack, I ordered you not to come.
What does this mean ? You deserve a good horsewhip —
Why, Jack, Jack, you disobedient young villain, you've saved
your father's life!" and with tears rolling down his face he
clasped the brave lad in his arms. The Tartar was taken
up to New Haven, and the Captain, who was only severely
wounded, with the other prisoners, delivered over to the
Continental officer in charge of the post.
When Colonel Loekett returned to Valley Forge, which
he did without delay, Washington thanked him in general
orders for his brave feat. Jack got his heart's wish, and
the last year of the war actually served ou the staff of the
Commauder-iii-Chief, yiiung as he was.
QUILL-PEN, ESQUIRE, ARTIST.
BY JOHN KEliDKICK BANGS.
JIMMIEBOY had been looking at the picture-books
iu his papa's library nearly all the afternoon, aud as
night came on he fell to wondering why he couldn't draw
pictures himself. It certainly seemed easy enough, to look
at the pictures. Most of them were made with the fewest
possible lines, and every line was as simple as could be;
the only thing seemed to be to put them down, and iu the
right place.
" Why don't you try ?" said somebody.
"Eh?" asked Jimmieboy, with a sudden start, for he had
supposed he was alone.
"I say why don't you try?" replied the strange some-
body.
"Try what?" queried Jimmieboy, who, not having spoken
a word ou the subject of drawing pictures, was quite sure
that the question did not apply to that matter — iu which
certainly he was very much mistaken, as the strange some-
body's nest remark plainly showed.
"Try drawing pictures yourself?" said the voice.
"I can't draw," said Jimmieboy, peering over into the
corner whence the voice came, to see who it was that had
spoken.
"You cau't tell unless you try," said the voice.
"A man might do a million things
If he would be less i^liy,
That all his life he never does,
Because he will not try.
Why don't you try ?'•'
"Who are you, anyhow ?" asked Jimmieboy. "Tell me
that, and maybe I will try."
" Why, you know me," said the voice. " I am the Quill-
peu over here on your mamma's table. Don't you remem-
ber how you nearly drowned me in the ink yesterday?"
"I didn't want to drown you,'' said Jimmieboy, apolo-
getically. "I wanted you to write a letter for me to my
Uncle Periwinkle, askiug him to send me everything' he
thought I'd like as soon as he could."
The Pen laughed. "I'll do it some time — along about
Christmas, perhaps," he said. " But about this picture
business. I think you could make pictures."
"Can you make 'em?" queried Jimmieboy.
"I never tried, so I don't know," answered the Pen.
"Then you try, and let's see how trying works," sug-
gested Jimmieboy. "I'll get a piece of paper for you."
"I'm afraid we can't. "said the Pen. "I'm very dry,
and don't think I could make a mark, unless you get me a
glass of ink.
715
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
r
.L
•NOW," SAID THE PEN, "LET US BEGIN."
" For just as skates are not much use
Without a skating rink,
So pens — of steel or qnills of goose —
Are worthless without ink."
"Oh, I'll get plenty of ink," returned Jimmieboy, "though
I think water would be saferer. Water would look plea-
santer ou the carpet if \ve upset it."
" I can't make a mark with water," laughed the Peu.
"How do you kuow?" asked Jimmieboy. "Did you ever
try ?"
"No, I never tried. Because why ? What's the use?"
replied the Pen.
" I do not try to touch the sky
Or jump upon the star.-;
I do not try to make a pie
Of rusty iron bars ;
I do not try to change into
A baby elephant,
Because I know — and always knew —
"Tis useless, for I can't."
, "That's all very good," retorted Jimmieboy ; " but a min-
ute ago you were saying that
"'A man might do a million things,
If he would be less shy,
That all his life he never does,
Because he will not try.' "
"You've got me there," said the Pen, with a smile.
"Perhaps we had better use water. Now that I think of it,
I have enough dried ink 011 me to make a mark if I am
moistened up a bit with water. You get the water and
the paper, and I'll see what I cau do."
Jimmieboy ran into the dining-room and brought a glass
brimming over with water to the Pen, and in another min-
ute he had a large pad of paper ready.
" Now," said the Pen, " let us begin. What shall I draw
first .'"
"I don't know," Jimmieboy replied. "Why not make
a — er — a zebra f "
''What's a zebra?" asked tlie Pen, who had never been
to the circus, as Jimmieboy had, and who was therefore, of
course, ignorant about some things of very great impor-
tance. " Is it a piece of furniture ?"
"The idea!" laughed Jimmieboy. " Of course not. It's
a sort of a small animal like a horse, and ha: "
" Oh, I know," interrupted the Pen. "Here's one." Then
he dipped his head lightly into the water, and wiggled
himself about on the pad for a minute. -'There," he said,
"How's that for a zebra?"
Jinmiieboy laughed long and loud.
'•What (in earth are those wiggle-
waggles all over him ?" he asked.
••Those are the Zees," explained the
Quill. "Isn't that right?"
"No!" roared Jimmieboy. "He
hasn't a Z to his name."
"Oh yes, he has," replied the Quill.
"I know that, much, anyhow. I have
written many a zebra, though I never
drew- one before. They always begin with a Z, ami end
with a bray —like a donkey."
"I don't mean it that way. I mean he hasn't any Zees
printed on him," explained Jimmieboy. " He's striped like
the American flag."
"Why didn't you say so in the beginning ?" said the
Quill.
"I was going to, but you interrupted me, and said yon
knew all about it, and I supposed you did," said the
boy.
"Well, let's try it again. He's a horse that looks like
the American flag, you say ?"
•• Yes," said Jimmieboy — a little dubiously, however. He
thought perhaps the zebra more closely resembled a piece
of toast, but as be had mentioned the flag, he thought it
would be better to stick to it.
"How is this!" asked the Quill, presenting the following
picture to Jimmieboy. " Is that any more like a zebra ?"
" It's the most ridiculous thing I
ever saw," said Jimmieboy. " I
didn't say he had stars on him."
"I know you didn't," retorted the
Pen. "But that square might pass
for a chest-protector, i f any body ever
criticised it."
"Well, it isn't anything like a
Zebra," said Jimmieboy, firmly.
"You'd better try making an ele-
ZEBRA. pbant."
"That's easy /'returned the Quill.
"I never saw an elephant, but I've heard what they look
like. Sort of like pigs, with two tails, big flop ears, and
paper-cutters for teeth, and great, big huge large legs that
look like bolsters. Oh, I can draw an elephant with my
eyes shut."
This the Pen proceeded to do at once, and here is bis
idea of the L-ephant.
"That's more like an elephant
than either of the two zebras was
like a zebra, "said Jimmieboy, with
a grin.
"Thank you, "said the Pen, sim-
ply. "Which part have I done
best, the L or the 'ephant ?"
"Well, it's hard to say," smiled
Jimmieboy. "I think the hair ou
his forehead is very much like that
of the elephants I have seen, and then you've got his eye
' just right. I've seen elephants look exactly like that
when they have caught sight of a peanut."
"How is this for a swarm of bees?" asked the Quill,
gratified at his success, and dashing off this little artistic
gem in an instant.
"Ho!" ejaculated Jimmieboy. "What
kind of bees are those? They aren't the
honey kind that sting."
" No. they are bees you can spoil with,
and dou't sting," returned the Pen. " I
like 'em better than the other kind."
"Can you draw ostriches?" asked Jim-
mieboy.
"I can try one," said the Pen. "How
THK SWARM OF will this do ?" he added, producing the fol-
BEES. lowing. " The horse part is all right, but I'm
I.-EPHAXT.
716
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE OSTRICH.
afraid the strich isn't so good," said the
artist, as Jimmieboy threw himself on the
floor in a paroxysm of laughter. "I never
saw a strieh,so why should I make a good
one ? I think it's real mean of yon to laugh."
"Well, really, Penny," said Jimmieboy,
" I don't want to hurt your feelings, but
that's the worst-looking animal I ever saw.
But never mind; it's a better-looking crea-
ture than most monkeys."
"I never saw a monkey," said the Pen.
" How many legs has it ?"
"Two legs, two arms, a tail, and a head," Jimmieboy
answered.
"Something like this ?" queried the Quill, dashing off a
picture complacently — he felt so sure that this time ho was
right.
"Very much like that," Jimmieboy re-
plied, smothering his mirth for fear of of-
fending the Quill, though if you will refer
to the drawing you will see that the Quill
was quite as inaccurate in his picture of
the monkey as he was with his zebras.
"I thought I'd get you to admit that
that was a good monkey," observed the
Quill, regarding his work with pride. "I've
THE MON-KEV. seeu a good many keys, and, of course,
when you said the creature had two legs,
two arms, a tail, and a head, I knew that he was nothing
but a key to whom had been given those precious gifts of
nature. To draw a key is easy, aud to provide it with the
other features was not hard."
Jimmieboy was silent. He was too full of laughter
even to open his mouth, and so he kept it tightly closed.
" What '11 I draw next ?" asked the Quill, after a minute
or two of silence.
"Can you do mountains '?" queried Jimmieboy.
" What are they ?" asked the Quill.
"They're great big rocks that go up in the air and have
trees on 'em," explained Jimmieboy.
The Quill looked puzzled, and then he glanced reproach-
fully at Jimmieboy.
" I think you are making fun of me," lie said, solemnly.
"No, I'm not, "said Jimmieboy. " Why should you think
such a thing as that?"
"Well, I know some things, aud what I know makes me
believe what I think. I think you are making fun of me
when you talk of big rocks going up in the air with trees
on 'em. Rocks are too heavy to go up in the air even
when they haven't trees on 'em, aud I don't think it's very
nice of you to try to fool me the way you have."
"I don't mean like a balloon," Jimmieboy hastened to
explain. "It's a big rock that sits on the ground aud
reaches up into the air and has trees on it."
"I don't believe there ever was such a thing," returned
the offended Quill. "Here's what one would look like if
it could ever be," he added, sketching the following:
"What on earth!" ejaculated Jim-
mieboy.
" What ? Why, a mountain — that's
what!" retorted the Quill. "Don't
you see, my dear boy, you've just
proved you were trying to fool me.
I've put down the thing you said a
mountain was, and you as much as
say yourself that it can't be."
"But — how do you make it out?
That's what I can't see," remon-
strated Jimmieboy.
"It's perfectly simple," said the Quill. "You said a
mountain was a rock; there's the rock in the picture.
You said it had trees on it; those two things that look
like pen-wipers on sticks are the trees."
" But that other thing?" interrupted Jimmieboy. "That
arm? I never, never, never said a mountain had one of
those."
" Why, how you do talk !" cried the Quill, angrily. " You
told me first that the rocks went up in the air, and when
Mill 'STAIN.
-----
I showed you why that couldn't be, you corrected yourself,
and saiil that they reached up into the air."
" Well, so I did," said Jimmieboy.
"Will you kindly tell me how a rock could reach up in
the air, or around a corner, or do any reaching at all. in
faet, unless it had an arm to do it with?" snapped the
Quill, triumphantly.
Again Jimmieboy found it best to keep silent. The
Quill, thinking that his silence was due to regret, immedi-
ately became amiable, and volunteered the .statement that
if he knew the names of flowers he thought he could draw
some of them.
"Pausies, cowslips, aud geraniums," suggested Jimmie-
boy.
"Good! Here you are," returned the Quill, rapidly
sketching the following:
"That pansy, "he said, as Jimmie-
boy gazed at his work, " is a frying-
pausy. How is this for a battle
scene?" he added, drawing the fol-
lowing singular-looking picture.
" Very haud-
A PANSY. A COWSLIP, some !" said
A POTTED G-KANIl'M. J i 1U 111 i 6 b O y .
"But — er — just
what are those things? Snakes?"
" No, indeed," said the Quill. " The
idea! Who ever saw a snake with
wings? One is a C gull and the other is a J bird."
"Can you draw a blue bird?" asked Jimmieboy.
"I think so," auswered the Quill, as he carefully drew
this strange creature.
" You haven't given him any wings," said
Jimmieboy, after carefully examining the pic-
ture.
"No: that's the reason he is blue. He has
to walk all the time. That's enough to make
A BLUEBIRD any body blue," explained the Quill. "Here's
a puzzle for you !" he added. " Guess what
it is, and I'll write to your Uncle Periwinkle and tell him
if he'll come up here on Saturday with two dollars in his
pockets, you will show him where you and he can get the
best soda-water made.
This is the picture the Quill then
presented to Jimmieboy's astonished
gaze.
"Humph!" said Jimmieboy. "Ft
looks like two men on horseback run-
ning after something, but what, I'm
sure I don't know."
" What does it look like ?" asked the STEEPLE-CHASING.
Quill.
" Nothing that I ever saw."
" Nonsense !" returned the Pen. "Does it look like a
fox, or a Chinese laundry, or a what?"
" It doesn't look like any of 'em," insisted Jimmieboy.
"Dear me! How dull you are!" cried the Quill. "Why,
boy, it's a church steeple, that's what. Now what is the
whole tiling a picture of?"
" A steeple-chase !" cried Jimmieboy.
"Exactly," said the Quill, very much pleased that after
all Jimmieboy had guessed it. "Aud now I'll write that
letter to Uncle' Peri winkle."
And so he wrote;
P. S. — DEAR UNCLE PERIWINKLE,
Come up on Saturday. Bring all the money you've
got, and the soda-water we'll have will sail a yacht. If
you can't come, send the money, and I'll look after sailing
the yacht. Yours affectionately, JIMMIEBOY.
" Will that do ?" asked the Quill.
"Yes," said Jimmieboy. " And now put it. hi an envel-
ope, aud I'll put it with the letters to be mailed."
" Now draw some more," he said, alter this had been mailed.
But the Quill auswered never a word. He had evidently
fallen asleep. Strange to say, Uncle Periwinkle never got
his letter, and the pictures the Quill made all faded from
sight, and so were lost.
717
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.*
BY KIRK MUNROE.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
INVADING A CAPTAIN'S CABIN.
AN earthquake could hardly have caused greater con-
sternation iu the village of Klukwan than did the
boom of that heavy gun as it came echoiug np the pali-
saded valley of the Chilkat. Not many years before tin-
Indians of that section had defied the power of the United
States, and tilled several American citizens. A gunboat,
hurried to the scene of trouble, shelled and destroyed one
of their villages in retaliation. From that time on no
sound was so terrible to them as the roar of a big gun.
While Phil and his companions were chafing at the delay
imposed upon them by the greed of the Chilkat Shaman a
government vessel arrived in the neighboring inlet of Chil-
koot, bearing a party of scientific men who were to cross
the mountains at that point for an exploration of the up-
per Yukon, and the locating of the boundary line between
Alaska and Canada.
The Princess, learning of its presence, and despairing of
assisting her white friends in any other way, secretly de-
spatched a messenger to the Captain of the ship with the
information that some Americans were being detained in
Klukwau against their will. Upon receipt of this news
the Captain promptly steamed around into Chilkat Inlet
and as near to its head as the draught of his vessel would
allow. As he dropped anchor, there came such a sound of
firing from up the river that, he imagined a fight to be iu
progress, and fired one of his o\vn big guns to give warning
of his presence.
The effect of this dread message was instantaneous.
Phil Ryder dropped his uplifted arm. The Chilkat Shaman
scuttled away, issued an order, and within five minutes a
new and perfectly equipped canoe was marvellously pro-
duced from somewhere and tendered to Serge Belcofsky.
Five minutes later he and his companions had taken a
grateful leave of the Princess, and were embarked with all
their effects, including the three dogs.
Phil stationed himself in the bow, Serge tended sheet,
and Jalap Coombs steered. As before the prevailing
northerly wind their long-beaked canoe shot out from the
river into the wider \yaters of the inlet, and they saw, at
anchor, less than one mile away, a handsome cutter flying
the United States revenue flag, the three friends uttered a
simultaneous cry of, "The Phoca!"
"Hurrah!" yelled Phil.
" Hurrah !" echoed Serge.
" Bless her pretty picter!" roared Jalap Coombs, standing
up and waving the old tarpaulin hat that, though often
eclipsed by a fur hood, had been faithfully cherished during
the entire journey.
At that r.inmeiit one of the cutter's boats, in command
of a strange Lieutenant, with a howitzer mounted in its
bow, and manned by a dozen heavily armed sailors, hailed
the canoe and shot alongside.
"What's the trouble up the river 1" demanded the officer.
"There isn't any, "answered Serge.
"What was all the firing about?"
"Celebrating some sort of native Fourth of July. Is
Captain Matthews still in command of the Phocaf"
" Yes. Does he know you ?"
" I rather guess he does, and, with your permission, we'll
report to him iu person."
"Pull up the hoo'ds of your parkas," said Phil to his
companions, "and we'll give the Captain a surprise party."
A minute later one of the Plioca's Quartermasters reported
to the Captain that a canoe-load of natives was almost
alongside.
" Very well ; let them come aboard, and I'll hear what
they have to say."
In vain did the Quartermaster strive to direct the canoe
tn the port gangway. The natives did not seem to under-
stand, and insisted on rounding up under the starboard
* Begun iu HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 801.
quarter, reserved fur officers and distinguished guests. One
of them sprang out the moment its bow touched the side
steps, clambered aboard, pushed aside the wrathful Quar-
termaster, anil started for the Captain's door \\ith the
sailor in hot pursuit.
" Hold on, you blooming young savage! Ye can't go in
there, "he shouted, but to heedless ears.
As Phil gained the door it was opened by the Commander
himself, who was about to come out for a look at the na-
tives.
" How are you, Captain Matthews ?" shouted the fur-clad
intruder into the sacred privacy of the cabin, at the same
time raising a hand iu salute. "It is awfully good of yon,
sir, to come for us. I only hope you didn't bother to wait
very long at the Pribyloft's."
"Eh ? What ? Who are yon, sir ? What does this mean ?
Phil Ryder! Yon young villain! You scamp! Bless my
soul, but this is the most wonderful thing I ever heard of!"
cried the astonished Commander, staggering back into the
cabin, and pulling Phil after him. "May, daughter, look
here!"
At that moment there came a yelping rush, and with a
chorus of excited barkings Musky, Luvtuk, and big Amook
dashed pell-mell into the cabin. After them came Serge,
Jalap Coombs, and the horrified Quartermaster, all striving
in vain to capture and restrain the riotous dogs. As if any
one could prevent them from following and sharing the
joy of the young master who had fed them night after
night for months by lonely camp-fires of the Yukon Valley !
So they flung themselves into the cabin, and tore round
and round, amid such a babel of shouts, laughter, barkings,
and crash of overturned furniture as was never before heard
iu that orderly apartment.
Finally the terrible dogs were captured, one by one, and
led away. May Matthews emerged from a safe retreat,
where, convulsed with laughter, she had witnessed the
whole uproarious proceeding. Her father, still ejaculating
"Bless my soul!" at intervals, gradually recovered suf-
ficient composure to recognize and welcome Serge and
" Ipecac " CoonTbs, as he persisted in calling poor Jalap.
The upset chairs were placed to rights, and all hands be-
gan to ask questions with such rapidity that no one had
time to pause for answers.
Frolu the confusion Captain Matthews finally evolved
an understanding that the boys were still desirous of reach-
ing Sitka, whereupon he remarked :
"Sitka, Sitka. It never occurred to me that you had
any desire to visit Sitka. I thought your sole ambition
was to attain the North Pole. If you had only mentioned
Sitka last summer I might have arranged the trip for you,
but now I fear —
At this moment there came a knock at the door, and
when it was opened the Quartermaster began to say, "Ex-
cuse me, sir, but here's another — : Before he could finish
his sentence a small furry object jerked away from him
with such force, that it took a header into the room and
landed at, the feet of the Commander on all fours, like a
little bear.
" Bless my soul ! What's this ?" cried Captain Matthews,
springing to one side iu dismay.
" It's a baby!" screamed Miss May, darting forward and
snatching up the child. "A darling little Indian in furs.
Where did it come from?"
" Great Scott!" exclaimed Phil, remorsefully. "To think
that we should have forgotten Nel-te!"
"Are there any more yet to come ?" demanded the Cap-
tain.
"No, sir; the whole ship's company is present and ac-
counted for," replied Jalap Coombs. " But with your leave,
sir, I'll just step out and take a look at our boat, for she's
a ticklish craft to navigate, and might come to grief iu
strange hands."
So saying, the honest fellow, who had made an excuse to
escape from the cabin, where he felt awkward and out of
place, as well as uncomfortably warm iu his fur garments,
pulled at the fringe of long wolf's hairs surrounding his
face, and shuffled away. A few minutes later saw him in
the forecastle, where, divested of his nusailorlike parka,
718
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
puffing with infinite zest at one of the blackest of pipes
tilled with the blackest of tobacco, and the centre of an ad-
miring group of seamen, he was spinning incredible yarns
of Ills recent and wonderful experiences with snow-shoes
and sledges.
In the mean time May Matthews was delightedly win-
ning Nel-te's baby affections, while Phil and Serge were
still plying the Captain with questions.
" Were yon saying, sir, that you feared you couldn't take
us to Sitka?" inquired Serge, anxiously.
'•Not at all, my lad, "replied the Captain. "I was about
to remark that I feared you would uot care to go there
now, seeing that there is hardly any one in Sitka whom you
want to see, unless it is your mother and sisters and Phil
Ryder's father and Aunt Ruth."
"What!" cried Phil, "iny Aunt Ruth ! Are you certain,
sir?"
"Certain I am," replied Captain Matthews, "that if both
the individuals I have just mentioned aren't already in Sit-
ka, they will bo there very shortly, for I left them in San
Francisco preparing to start at once. Moreover, I have or-
ders to carry yonr father to St. Michaels, where he expects
to find you. So now you see in what a complication your
turning up in this outlandish fashion involves me."
" But how did my Aunt Ruth ever happen to come out
liere?" inquired Phil.
" Came out to nurse your father while his leg was mend-
ing, and incidentally to find out what had become of an
iindiitifnl nephew whom she seems to fancy has an apti-
tude for getting into scrapes," laughed the Captain.
" Has my father recovered from his accident ?"
"So entirely that he fancies his leg is sounder and bet-
ter than ever it was."
" And are you bound for Sitka now, sir?"
"Certainly I am, and should have been half-way there
by this time if I hadn't been delayed by a report of some
sort of a row between the Chilkats and a party of white's.
Now, having settled that difficulty by capturing the entire
force of aggressors, I propose to carry them to Sitka as
legitimate prisoners, and then turn them over to the au-
thorities. So, gentlemen, yon will please consider your-
selves as prisoners of war, and under orders not to leave
this ship until she arrives at Sitka."
"With pleasure, sir," laughed Phil. "Only don't you
think you'd better place us under guard?"
"I expect it will be best," replied the Captain, gravely,
" seeing' that yon are charged with seal-poaching, piracy,
defying government officers, and escaping from arrest, as
well as the present one of making war 011 native Ameri-
cans."
CHAPTER XL.
IN SITKA TOWN.
THE long-beaked and wonderfully carved Chilkat canoe
was taken on the P/ioco's deck, the anchor was weighed,
and, with the trim cutter headed southward, the last stage
of the adventurous journey, pursued amid such strange
vicissitudes, was begun. As the ship sped swiftly past the
overhanging ice-fields of Davidson Glacier, out of Chilkat
Inlet into the broad mountain-walled waters of Lynn Ca-
nal, and down that thoroughfare into Chatham Strait, Cap-
tain Matthews listened with absorbed interest to Phil's ac-
count of the remarkable adventures that he and Serge had
encountered from the time he had last seen them at the
Pribyloff islands down to the present moment.
. " Well," said he, when the recital was finished, " I've done
a, good bit of knocking about in queer places during thirty
years of going to sea, and had some experiences, but my
life has been tame and monotonous compared with the one
you have led for the past year. Why, lad, if an account
of what you have gone through in attempting to take a
quiet little trip from New London to Sitka was written out
and printed in a book, people wouldn't believe it was true.
They'd shake their heads and say it was all made up, which
only goes to prove, what I never believed before, that truth
is sometimes stranger than fiction, after all."
".Yes," replied Phil ; " and the strangest part of it all is
the way that fur-seal's tooth has followed us and exerted
its influence in our behalf from the beginning to the very
end. Why, sir, if it hadn't been for that, tooth you wouldn't
have come to Chilkat, and we shouldn't be in the happy
position we are at this very moment."
" You don't mean to say," cried Captain Matthews, " that
it turned up again after your father lost it?"
"Oh yes, sir, and it's been with us, ott' and on, all the
time."
"Then at last I can have the pleasure of showing it to
my daughter. Would you mind letting me have it for a
few minutes?"
"Unfortunately, sir — :
"Now don't tell me that yon have gone and lost it
again."
"Not exactly lost it," replied Phil. "At the same time,
I don't know precisely where it is nor what has become of
it, only it is somewhere back in Klnkwau, where it ori-
ginally came from, and I have every reason to believe that
it is in possession of the principal Chilkat Shaman."
"I declare that is too bad!" exclaimed the Captain. "If
I had known that sooner I believe I should have kept right
on and shelled the village until they gave me the tooth, so
strong is rny desire to get hold of it."
"And so secured to yourself the ill luck of him who
steals it," laughed Phil.
That afternoon the Plioca turned sharply to the right,
and began to thread the swift-rushing and rock-strewn
waters of Peril Strait, the narrow channel that washes the
northern end of Baranoft' Island, on which Sitka is situated.
Now Serge stood on the bridge beside his friend, so nervous
with excitement that he could hardly speak. Every roaring
t ide rip and swirling eddy of those waters, every rock with
its streamers of brown kelp, every beach and wooded point
were like familiar faces to the young Russo-Americau, for
just beyond them lay his home, that dear home from which
he had been more than three years absent.
Suddenly he clutched Phil's arm, and pointed to a lofty
snow -crowned peak looming high above the forest and
bathed in rosy sunlight. "There's Mount Edgecumbe!" he
cried; and a few minutes afterward, "There's Verstoroi."
Phil felt the nervous fingers tremble as they gripped his
arm; and \\hcn, a little later the cutter swept fiom a nar-
row passage into an island -studded bay, he could hardly
hear the hoarse whisper of: " There, Phil! There's Sitka!
Dear, beautiful Sitka!"
And Phil was nearly as excited as Serge to think that,
after twelve months of ceaseless wanderings, the goal for
which he had set forth was at last reached.
The Plioca had hardly dropped anchor before another
ship appeared, entering the bay from the same direction.
"The mail-steamer from Puget Sound, "announced Cap-
tain Matthews.
This boat brought but few passengers, for the season was
yet too early for tourists ; but on her upper deck stood a
gentleman and a lady, the former of whom was pointing
out objects of interest almost as eagerly as Serge had done
a short time before.
" It is lovely, "said his companion, enthusiastically, "but
it seeins perfectly incredible that I should actually be here,
and that this is the place for which our Phil set out with
such high hopes a year ago. Do yon realize, John, that it
is just one year ago to-day since he left New London ? Oh,
if we only knew where the dear boy was at this minute!
And to think that I should have got here before him!"
"Now he will probably never get here," replied Mr.
Ryder. " For, on account of that California ofter, I shall be
obliged to return directly to San Francisco from St. Mi-
chaels without even a chance of going up the Yukon,
which I know will be a great disappointment to Phil.
But look there, Ruth. You have been wanting to see a
canoe-load of Indians, and here comes as typical a one as I
ever saw. A perfect specimen of an Alaskan dugout, na-
tives in full winter costume, Eskimo dogs, and a sledge."
"And, oh!" cried Miss Ruth, "there is a tiny bit of a
child, all in furs, just like its father. See? Nestled among
the dogs, with a pair of wee snow-shoes on his back ton ?
Isn't he a darling? How I should love to hug him! ' >h,
Hi)
'AUNT RUTH, YOU'RE A BRICK! A PERFECT BRICK!"
John, we must find them when we get ashore ; for that
child is the very cutest thing I have seen iu all Alaska^"
By this time the steamer was made fast, and the passeu-
gers were already going ashore. When Mr. Ryder and his
sister gaiued the wharf they were surprised to see that the
canoe in which they were interested had come to the land-
ing-stage, where its occupants were already disembarking.
The next moment she uttered a shriek of horror, for one
of them had thrown his arms around her neck and kissed her.
"Aunt Ruth, you're a brick! a perfect brick!" he cried.
" To think of you coming away out here to see me '." Then
turning to Mr. Ryder, and embracing that bewildered
gentleman in his furry arms, the excited boy exclaimed :
"And pop! You dear old pop! If you only knew how-
distressed I have been about you. If you hadn't turned
up, just as you have, I should have dropped everything and
gone in search of you."
"Oh, Phil! How could you?" gasped Aunt Ruth. "You
frightened me almost to death, and have crushed me all
ont of shape. You are a regular polar-bear in all those
furs and things. What do you mean, sir? Oh you dear,
dear boy !" At this point Miss Ruth's feelings so com-
pletely overcame her that she sank down on a convenient
log and burst into hysterical weeping.
" There, you young scamp !" cried Mr. Ryder, whose own
eyes were full of joyful tears at that moment. " See what
you have done ! Aren't you ashamed of yourself, sir ?"
" Yes, pop, awfully. But I've got something that will
cheer her np and amuse her. And here's Serge and — No
he isn't, either. What has become of Serge? Oh, I sup-
pose he has gone homo. Don't see why he need to be in
such"a hurry, though. No matter; here's Jalap Coombs.
You remember Jalap, father ? And here, Aunt Ruth, is the
curio I promised to bring you. Look out; it's alive!"
With this the crazy lad snatched Nel-te from the arms of
Jalap Coombs, who had just brought him up the steps, and;
laid him iu Miss Ruth's lap, saying, "He's a little orphan,
kid I found iu the wilderness, and adopted for you to love."'
Miss Ruth gave such a start as the small bundle of fur
was so unexpectedly thrust at her that poor Nel-te rolled
to the ground. From there he lifted such a pitifully fright-
ened little face, with such tear-tilled eyes and quivering lip,
that Miss Ruth snatched him np and hugged him. Then
she kissed and petted him to such an extent that by the
time he was again smiling he had won a place iu her loving
heart second only to that occupied by Phil himself.
With this journey's end also came the partings that al-
ways form so sad a feature of all journeys' ends. Even the
three dogs that had travelled together for so long were-
separated, Musky being given to Serge, Lnvtnk to May
Matthews, to become the pet of the Plioca's crew, and big
Amook going with Phil, Aunt Ruth, Nel-te, the sledge, the
snow-shoes, and the beautiful white thick-furred skin of a
mountain goat to distant New London.
Mr. Ryder and Jalap Coombs accompanied them as far as.
San Francisco. Dear old Serge was reluctantly left, be-
hind, busily making preparations to carry out his cherished
scheme of returning to Auvik as a teacher.
In Sail Francisco Mr. Ryder secured for Jalap Coombs the
command of a trading schooner plying between that port
and Honolulu. When it was announced to him that he
was at last actually a captain, the honest fellow's voice
trembled with emotion as he answered:
" Mr. Ryder, sir. mill Phil, I never did wholly look to be a
full-rigged cap'n, though I've striv and waited for the berth
nigh "ii to forty year. Now I know that it's just as my old
friend Kite Koberson useter say; for he allers said, "old Kite
did, 'That them as waits the patientest is bound to see
things happen.'"
THK END.
OAKLEIGH.
BY E L L E X DOUGLAS D E L A N D.
CHAPTER IV.
MR. FRANKLIN'S announcement at first almost stunned
his children. They could not believe it. Jack and
Cynthia, were somewhat prepared fur it, it is true, but
when they heard the news from their father's o\vn lips it
was none the less startling.
To Edith it came like a thunderbolt. She had never had
the smallest suspicion that her father would marry again.
She had always supposed that she would be sufficient for
him. She would never marry herself, she thought, but
would stay at home and be the comfort of his declining
years. It had never occurred to her that her father, still a
young and good-looking man of barely forty, would be ex-
ceedingly likely to marry a second time.
And now what was to happen ? A stranger was coming
to rule over them. Edith would never endure it, never!
She would go away and live with Aunt Betsey. Anything
would be better than a step-mother.
When she spoke her voice was hard and unnatural.
"Haven't I done right, papa ? Weren't yon satisfied
with me? I have tried."
"My dear child, you have done your best, but you are
too young. No one can expect a girl of sixteen to take
entire charge of a house and family. And it is not only
that. Hester is a charming woman. She reminds me
something of your mother, Edith. It was that which
first attracted me. She
will be a companion to you
— -a sister."
"Thank yon, hut I don't
need either. Cynthia is all
the sister I want. Oh, papa,
papa, why are you going to
doit!"
She went to her own room
and shut the door. After
this one outbreak she said
no more. Small things
made Edith storm and even
cry, dignified though she
was. This great shock
stunned her. She did not
shed a tear, and she bore it
in silence ; but a hard feel-
ing came into her heart,
and she determined that
she would never forgive
this Miss Gordon who had
entrapped her father (so
she put it), and was coming
to rule over them and or-
der them about. She, for
one, would never submit to
it.
Jack did not mind it in
the least, and Cynthia, who
idolized her father, was sure
from what he said that he
was doing what he consid-
ered was for his happiness.
Of course it was terrible for
them, bnt they must make
the best of it.
They passed a dreary
Sunday, but Monday was
expected to be an exciting
day, for on that date the
chickens were to appear.
But when the children re-
turned from school there
were but small signs of the
anticipated hatch in the
incubator; one shell only
had a little crack on the end.
Cynthia took up her position in front of the machine
with a book, and waited patiently hour after hour. No-
thing came. The next morning there was another crack
in the next egg, and the first had spread a little, but that
was all. The children all \\ent to school but Edith, and
she felt too low-spirited to go down to the cellar to watch.
Janet and Willy were forbidden to go near the place.
As punishment for their conduct on Saturday, they were
not to be present at the hatching. It was thought that
owing to what they had done the chickens were not forth-
coming, and indeed it had been most disastrous.
When Jack and Cynthia returned from school they
found that t\vo little chicks — probably the only two which
had escaped the cold bath — had emerged from their shells,
and were hopping dismally about in the gravel beneath
the trays. One hundred and ninety-eight hoped-for com-
panions failed to appear.
Jack's first hatch was anything but a success. He bore
it bravely, but it was a bitter disappointment. After wait-
ing many hours in the vain hope of seeing another shell
crack, he removed the two little comrades to the large
brooder built to hold a hundred, and then, nothing dauuted,
sent for more eggs. He still had some of Aunt Betsey's
money left.
Jack was plucky, and his pride would not permit him
to give up. He would profit by his experience, and next
'CYNTI1Y FRANKLIN, IT IS MORE THAN TIME YOU HAD A MOTHER."
721
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
time he would be victorious. He feared that, besides the
mischief done l>y the children, he had been overfussy in
liis eare of the eggs, and he determined to act more wisely
in every respect.
In after-years Cynthia looked hack upon the first hatch
ns one' of the most depressing events in her life. The
rhildrrii in disgrace, Edith silent and woe-hegone in her
own room, sin- and Jack watching hour after hour in the
big cellar for the chickens that never came, and, above
all. the impending arrival of the second Mrs. Franklin.
Aunt Betsey journeyed down from Wayborough as
soon as she heard the news. They did not know she was
coming until they saw one of the station carriages slowly
approaching the house, with Miss Triukett's well-known
Unmet inside of it. She waved her hand gayly, and
opened the subject at once.
"Well, well," she cried, "this is news indeed! I want
to know! Nephew John going to be married again ! Just
what I always thought he had best do for the good of you
children. Have you seen the bride, and what is she like ?"
It was a warm June day, and the Franklins were on the
piazza when this was shouted to them from the carriage
iu their aunt's shrill voice. Edith writhed. Though the
news was all over Breutou by now, this would be a fine
bit for the driver to take back.
Jack and Cynthia offered to help Aunt Betsey to alight,
but she waved them aside.
"Don't think you must help me, my dears. This good
news has put new life into me. How do you all do f"
giving each one of her birdlike kisses, and settling herself
in a favorite rocking-chair.
The younger children ran to her, hoping for treasures
from the carpet-bag.
•• I do declare," exclaimed she, " if I didn't forget all
about you iu the news of the bride! Never mind; wait
till next time, and I'll bring yon something extry nice
when I come to see the bride."
•• What's a bride?" asked Willy.
"La, child, don't yon know? They haven't been kept
in ignorance, I hope ?"
"Oh no, bu,t they haven't heard her called that," ex-
plained Cynthia.
" Do yon mean the lady that is coming here to live ?"
asked Janet. "Well, we don't like her, me and Willy.
Shu's made Edith cross and sobby, and she's made you
forget our presents, and she's made a lot of fuss. We
don't want her here at all."
Miss Triukett looked shocked. "My dear children!"
she exclaimed, too much aghast to say more. Then she
turned to Edith.
" But now tell me all about it. Have you seen her, and
is she young ?"
" I have 7iot seen her, Aunt Betsey, and I don't wish to.
I don't know whether she is young or old, and I don't care.
Won't yon take me home with yon, Aunt Betsey ? Can't
I live with you now ? I'm not needed here."
Miss Betsey stared at her in amazement.
"Edith Franklin," she said, folding her hands in her
lap, "I am astonished at the state of things I find in this
household! Rebelling against circumstances in this way,
and wishing to run away from your duties! No, indeed,
my dear. Much as I'd admire to have you live with me —
and there's a nice little chamber over the living-room that
would suit you to a T — I'd never be the one to encourage
\inir leaving your family. You are setting them a bad
example as it is, teaching these young things to look with
disfavor mi their new mother that is to be. No, indeed.
Far be it from me to encourage you. And, indeed, I
should have no right, when my own mother was a second
wife. Why, in the early days of the colonies it was
thought nothing at all for a man to marry three or four
times, as you'd know if you had read Judge Sewall's l>im-y
.•is much as I have, or other valuable works."
Miss Triukett rocked violently when she had finished
this harangue. Edith did not reply. She had looked for
sympathy from Aunt Betsey; but she, like all the rest of
the world, seemed to think it the best thing that could
happen.
As for Miss Betsey, she too was somewhat disappointed.
She had hoped for some interesting items, and none seemed
to be forth-coming.
"Where's your father?" she asked, presently.
Edith did not reply.
"He has gone to Albany," said Cynthia.
" Well, well ! And when is the wedding to be ?"
Edith rose and went into the house. Cynthia glanced
after her regretfully, and then answered her aunt's ques-
tion.
" It is to be in a week. It is to be very quiet, because
— because Miss Gordon is in deep mourning."
"Do tell! I want to know!" ejaculated Miss Triukett.
"And are none of you going .'"
"No; papa did not think it was best. Hardly any one
will be there. Only her brother and one or two others."
"So she has a brother. Any other relatives?"
"I think not. She lost her father and mother when she
was very young, and her grandmother died rather lately."
"I want to know! And when are they coming home ?"
"Very soon," said Cynthia, almost inaudibly.
"Do tell!"
Miss Betsey said no more at present, but her mind was
busy.
" Where is Jackie ?" she next asked.
" I don't know. Gone to see about the chickens, I sup-
pose."
"Oh, those little orphans. Well, I haven't time to ask
about them now, for I think, Cynthia, I would like to call
upon my friend, Mrs. Parker. It is a long time since I was
there."
"Oh, Aunt Betsey!" exclaimed Cynthia. It would never
do for her aunt to see Mrs. Parker. The secret of her es-
capade at that good lady's house would surely be. found
out. " Why do yon go there this afternoon ?"
"Because, my dear, I am here only for a night, and I
must see Mrs. Parker."
Cynthia groaned inwardly.
" And hear all the village gossip about papa," she thought.
It must be prevented.
But Miss Trinkett was not to be turned from her pur-
pose. Go she would. Every available excuse in the world
was brought up to deter her, but the end of it was that
Jack drove around in the buggy, and Miss Betsey departed
triumphantly.
Cynthia awaited her return in suspense. She wished
that she could run away. Her impersonation of her aunt
did not seem such a joke as it had at the time, and then
she had heard the dreadful news there.
Miss Trinkett came back before very long in high dud-
geon. Cynthia was alone on the piazza, for Edith had not
appeared again. She noticed that Jack was apparently
enjoying a huge joke, and instead of taking the horse to
the barn, he remained to hear what Aunt Betsey had to
say.
Miss Triukett sank into a chair and untied her bonnet
strings with a jerk.
" Maria Parker is losing her mind, "she announced. "As
for me, I shall never go there again."
"Why not, Aunt Betsey?" murmured Cynthia, preparing
herself for the worst.
" She declares that I was there two weeks ago, and that
she — s/ie told me the news of my own nephew's engage-
ment ! She actually had the effrontery to say, ' I told yon
so!' My own nephew! When his letter the other day
was the first I heard of it, and I said to Silas, said I, ' Silas,
nephew John Franklin is going to marry again, and give
a mother to those children, and I'm glad of it, and I've just
heard the news.' And now for Maria Parker to tell me
that she told me, and that I was there two weeks ago ! Is
the woman crazy, or am I the one that has lost my mind?
Why don't you say something, Cynthy ? Is it possible you
agree with Mrs. Parker? Come, now, answer a question.
Was I here two weeks ago, and did I go and see Maria
Parker?"
"No," murmured Cynthia, her face crimson, her voice
almost inaudible. But Aunt Betsey was too much excited
to notice.
722
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
" Jackie," she said, tnruiug to him, "will you answer me
a question ? Did I visit you two weeks ago, ami did I call
upon Mrs. Parker?"
Jack gave one look at Cynthia, and then, dropping on
the {trass, rolled over and over in an ecstasy of mirth.
"You're in for it now, Miss Cynthia!" he chuckled.
MUs Betsey drew herself up.
"You have not answered my questions. Was I here two
weeks ago, and did I call upon Mrs. Parker?"
"No, no, Aunt Betsey!" shouted Jack. "You weren't!
You didn't! Go ahead, C'ynth ! Out with it! My eye,
I'm glad I'm here and nowhere else! I've been waiting
for this happy day. Now you'll get paid up for fooling
me."
And again he rolled, his long legs beating the air.
"I think you are mean, Jack, when you were the one
that made me go!" exclaimed Cynthia, indignantly. Then
she relapsed into silence. How could she ever confess to
Aunt Betsey?
Miss Trinkett hastened the climax.
"I don't know why Jack finds this so amusing. It is
not so to my mind ; but if you are quite sure that I was
not here, and that I did not call upon Mrs. Parker, I must
ask you to drive down with me at once and state the facts
to her. I cannot have it insinuated that I am no longer
capable of judging for myself, and of knowing what I do
and what I don't do. She actually told me to my face
that I was getting childish. What would Silas say ? But
I'll never tell him that. I would like to go at once."
Alas, there , was no help for it. Cynthia must confess.
If only Jack had not been there!
She rose from the step where she had been sitting, and
standing in front of her little grandaunt she spoke very
rapidly.
" You are right, and so is Mrs. Parker. You weren't here,
but I dressed up and went to see her. I pretended I was
you. I found your other false — I mean your new hair.
You left it in the drawer. I looked just like you, anil we
thought it would be such fun. I'm awfully sorry, Aunt
Betsey, indeed I am. It wasn't such great fun, after all."
At first Miss Betsey was speechless. Then she rose in
extreme wrath.
" Cynthy Franklin, it is more than time you had a mo-
ther. I never supposed you could be so — impertinent ; yes,
impertinent! Made yourself look like me, indeed, and go-
ing to my most intimate friend ! Poor Mrs. Parker. There's
no knowing what she might have said, thinking it was I.
And I telling her to-day she was out of her mind, and vari-
ous nthcr things I'm distressed to think of. Why, Cyntliy .'"
" Oh, I'm so sorry," cried Cynthia, bursting into tears.
"Do forgive me, Aunt Betsey."
" I am not ready to forgive you just yet, and whether I
ever will or not remains to be proved. I am disappointed
in you all. Edith going and shutting herself up when I
come, because she doesn't want a step -mother, and you
making fun of an aged aunt — not so very aged either.
Why, when Silas hears this I just dread to think what he'll
say. I am going home at once, Jack. You are the only
well-behaved one among them. Y'ou may drive me to the
train."
"Oh, Aunt Betsey, not to-day! Please don't go."
"I couldn't answer for my tongue if I staid here to-
night. I had best go home and think it out. When I
remember all I said to Maria Parker, and all she said tome,
I'm about crazy, just as she said I was."
And presently she drove away, sitting very stitt' and very
erect in the old buggy that had held her prototype two
weeks before, and Cynthia was left in tears, with one more
calamity added to her already burdened soul.
\Vhy had she ever played a practical joke ? If she lived
a hundred years she never wonld again.
Edith heard the news of Aunt Betsey's sudden departure
in silence, and Cynthia received no sympathy from her.
And very soon it was temporarily forgotten in prepara-
tions for the advent of the bride.
The day came at last, a beautiful one in June. The
house was filled with lovely flowers which Cynthia had
arranged — Edith would have nothing to do with it — and
the supper-table was decked with the finest China and
the old silver service and candelabra of their great-grand-
mother.
The servants, who had lived with them so long, could
scarcely do their work. They peered from the kitchen
windotvs for a first sight of their new mistress, and won-
dered what she would be like.
"These are sorry times," said Mary Ann, the old cook, as
she wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron.
Outside the place had never looked so peacefully lovely.
It was late, and the afternoon sun cast long shadows from
the few trees on the lawn. In the distance the cows were
heard lowing at milking-time. At one spot the river could
be seen glinting through the trees, and June roses filled the
air with fragrance.
All was to the outward eye just as it had always been,
summer after summer, since the Franklins could remember,
and yet how different it really was.
Jack had gone to the station to meet the travellers.
Edith, Cynthia, Janet, and Willy were waiting on the
porch, all in their nicest clothes. The children had been
bribed to keep their hands clean, and up to this moment
they were immaculate. Ben and Chester lay at full length
on the banking in front of the house; they alone did not
share the excitement.
The sound of wheels was heard.
"They are coming," whispered Cynthia.
As for Edith, she was voiceless.
And then the carriage emerged from the trees.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
STORIES IN AMERICAN LITERATURE.
BY EIENRIETTA CHRISTIAN WRIGHT.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.
IN the old seaport town of Salem, with its quaint houses
with their carved doorways and many windows, with
its pretty rose gardens, its beautiful overshadowing elms,
its dingy court-house and celebrated town pump, Haw-
thorne passed his early life, his picturesque surroundings
forming a suitable setting to the picture we may call up
of the handsome imaginative boy whose early impressions
were afterward to crystallize, into the most beautiful art
that America has yet known. Behind the town stood old
Witch Hill, grim and ghastly with the memories of the
witches who had been hanged there in colonial times. In
front spread the sea, a golden argosy of promise, whose
wharves and store-rooms held priceless stores of merchan-
dise.
Hawthorne's boyhood was much like that of any other boy
in Salem town. He went to school and to church, loved
the sea, and prophesied that ho would go away on it some
day and never return, was fond of reading, and was not
averse to a good fight with any of his school-fellows who
had, as he expressed it, "a quarrelsome disposition." He
was a healthy, robust lad, and life seemed a very good thing
to him, whether he was roaming the streets of Salem, sit-
ting idly on the wharves, or at home stretched on the floor
reading one of his favorite authors. As a rule all boys who
have become writers have liked the same books, and Haw-
thorne was no exception. When reading, he was living in
the magic world of Shakespeare and Milton. Spen.-cr, Frois-
sart, and Pilgrim's Progress. This last was a great and
special favorite with him, its lofty and beautiful spirit car-
rying his soul with it into those spiritual regions which
the child mind reverences without understanding.
For one year of his boyhood he was supremely happy in
the life of the wild regions of Sebago Lake, Maine, where the
family moved for a time. Here, he says, he lived the life of
a bird of the air, with no restraint, and in absolute supreme
freedom. In the summer he would take his gun and spend
days in the forest, shooting, fishing, and doing whatever
prompted his vagabond spirit at the moment. In the
winter he would follow the hunters through the snow, or
skate till midnight alone upon the frozen lake, with only
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
(he shadows of tbe hills t,o keep liirn company, and some-
times passing the remainder of the night in a solitary log
cabin, whose hearth would blaze with the burning trunks
of I he fallen evergreens.
II,. entered Bowdoin in 1821, and had among his fellow-
studeuts Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Franklin Pierce
afterward President of the United States, and several
others who distinguished themselves in later lite. L,on
rfterward Hawthorne recalls his days at, Bowdoin as among
',!„• happiest of his life, and in writing to one of bis old
college friends speaks of the charm that lingers around the
memory of the place, where he gathered blueberries in study
hours, watched the great logs drifting down from the lum-
bering districts above along the current of tbe Androscog-
„ ,„ fished in the forest streams, and shot pigeons and squir-
rels at odd hours which ought to have been devoted t
classics. ,
After leaviu^ Bowdoin, Hawthorne returned to Salem,
where he passed the next twelve years of bis life, and dur-
in.r which he must have marked out authorship as his pro-
fession, as he attempted nothing else. Here he produced,
from time to time, stories and sketches which found their
way to the periodicals of tbe day, and which won for him
a reputation among other American writers. But it is re-
markable that the years which a man devotes usually t<
tbe best work of his life were spent by Hawthorne m a
contented half-dream of what he meant to accomplish later
on; for exquisite as is some of the work produced at this
time, it never would have won for the author the highest
place in American literature. Tbese stories and sketches
were collected later on, and published un/ler the titles
Tirk-i'-Totd Tales and Snow Image. They are full oi the
grace and beauty of Hawthorne's style, but in speaking of
them Hawthorne himself says that there is in this result
of twelve years little to show for its thought and industry.
But whatever may have been the cause of delay, the prom-
ise of his genius was fulfilled at last. In IsSO, when Haw-
thorue was forty -six years old, appeared his first great
romance. In writing this book Hawthorne had chosen for
bis subject a picture of old Puritan times in New England,
and out of the tarnished records of the past be created a
work of art of marvellous and imperishable beauty.
In the days of which he wrote a Puritan town or village
was exactly like a large family bound together by mutual
interests, in which tbe acts of each life were regarded
as affecting the whole community. In this novel Haw-
thorne imprisoned forever tbe spirit of colonial New Eng-
land, with all its struggles, hopes, and fears; and tbe con-
science-driven Puritan, who lived in the new generation
only in public records and church histories, was lifted into
the realm of art.
In Hawthorne's day this grim figure, stalking in the
midst of Indian fights, village pillories, town meetings,
witch-burnings, and church councils, was already a mem-
ory. He had drifted into tbe past with his steeple-crowned
bat and bis matchlock. He had left the pleasant New
England farm-lands with their pastures and meadows, hills
and valleys and wild-pine groves, and lurked like a ghost
ONE OF THE BOY'S FAVORITE OCCUPATIONS.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.
among tbe old church-yards and court-houses where his
deeds were recorded.
Hawthorne brought him back to life, rehabilitated him in
his old garments, set him in the midst of his fellow-elders
in tbe church, and gave him a perfect carnival of trials and
worries for conscience' sake. He made the old Puritan live
anew, and never again can his memory become dim. It is
embalmed for all time by the cunning art of this master-
hand,
This first romance, published under the title T/ie Scarlet
Letter, revealed both to Hawthorne himself and the world
outside the transcendent power of his genius.
Hawthorne, when the work was first finished, was in a
desperate frame of mind, because of the little popularity
his other books had acquired, and told his publisher, who
saw the first germ of the work, that be did not know
whether tbe story was very good or very bad. The pub-
lisher, however, perceived at once tbe unusual quality of
the work, prevailed upon Hawthorne to finish it immedi-
ately, and brought it out one year from that time, and the
public, which had become familiar with Hawthorne as a
writer of short stories, now saw that it had been entertain-
ing a genius unawares,
Hawthorne's next work, Tin- //»««• uf tin Si ri-n UabJcx, is
a story of the New England of his own day. Through its
pages flit the contrasting figures that one might find there
and nowhere else. The old spinster of ancient family who
is obliged in her latter years to open a toy and ginger-bread
shop, and who never forgets the time when the house with
seven gables was a mansion whose hospitality was honored
by all. is a pathetic picture of disappointed hope and
broken-down fortune So also her brother, who was im-
prisoned under a false charge for twenty years, and who is
obliged in his old age to lean upon his sister for support.
The other characters are alike true to life— a life that has
almost disappeared now in the changes of the half-century
since its scenes were made the inspiration of Ila« (home's
romance.
Tin1 HIIIIXI i if tin- .Vri // (litlili-x was followed by two beau-
tiful volumes for children: Tin H'mider-Houk, in which
the stories of the Greek myths are retold, and Tanglewood
Tales.
124
HARPER'S EOUND TABLE
lu Tin- Wonder-Book Haw-
thorne writes as if lie were a
cliihl himself, so delicious is
the charm that lie weaves
around these old, old tales.
Not content with the myths,
he created little incidents and
impossible characters, which
^liinre in ami out with elfin
fascination. One feels that
these were the very stories
that were told by the ceu-
taurs, fairies, aud satyrs them-
selves in the shadows of those
old Grecian forests. Here we
learn that King Midas not
ouly had his palace turned to
gold, but that his own little
daughter Marigold, a fancy of
Hawthorne's own, was also
converted iuto the same shin-
ing metal. We are told, too,
the secrets of many a hero
and god of this realm of fancy
which had been unsuspected
by any other historian of their
deeds. No child in reading
The Wonder-Book would doubt
for a moment that Hawthorne
had obtained the stories first
hand from the living charac-
ters, and would easily be-
lieve that he had hobuobbed many a moonlit night with
Pan and Bacchus aud other sylvan deities iu their vine-
covered grottos by the famed rivers of Greece. This dainty
ethereal touch of Hawthorne appears especially in alibis
work for children. It is as if he understood and entered
into that mystery which ever surrounds child life aud sets
it sacredly apart. It is the same quality, nearly, which
gives distinction to his fourth great iiovel, in which he is
called upon to deal with the elusive character of a man
who is supposed to be a descendant of the old fauns. We
feel that this creation, which is named Douatello, from his
resemblance to the celebrated statue of the Marble Fauu
by that sculptor, is not wholly human, aud although he has
human interests and feelings, Hawthorne is always a mas-
ter iu treating such a subject as this. He makes Donatello
ashamed of his pointed ears, though his spirit is as wild
and untamed as that of his crude ancestors. In this book —
which takes its name from the statue — The Mitrble FUHII,
there is a description of a scene where Douatello, who is
t
AT BROOK FARM.
THE OLD MANSE.
by title an Italian count, joins iu a peasant dance around
one of the public fountains. Aud so vividly is his liulf-
hmnaii nature brought out that one feels as if Hawthorne
must have witnessed somewhere the mad revels of the ver-
itable fauns and satyrs in the days of their life upon the
earth. In the whole development of this story Hawthorne
shows the same subtle sympathy with natures so far out
of the commonplace that they seem to belong to another
world. The mystery of such souls having the same charm
for him as the secrets of the earth and air have for the
scientist and philosopher.
The book coming between Tlie House of the Keren Guiles
aud Tin- J/iicfc/c Fiiint is called Tlir lilitlierlale Hiimtn/ri. It
is founded partly upon a period of Hawthorne's life wheu
he became a member of a community which hoped to im-
prove the world by showing that to live healthily, manual
labor must be combined with intellectual pursuits, anil
that self-interest and all differences in rank could only be
injurious to a country. This little society of reformers
lived in a suburb of Boston,
and called their association
Brook Farm. Each member
was supposed to perform
some manual labor on the
farm or iu the house each
day, although hours were set
aside for study and intellec-
tual work. Here Hawthorne
ploughed the fields like a
farmer boy in the daytime.
and in the evening joined
in the amusements, or sat
apart while the other mem-
bers talked about art and
literature and science,
danced, sang, or read Shake-
speare aloud.
>> of the cleverest men
and women of New England
became members of this com-
munity, the rules of which
obliged the men to wear plaid
blouses and rough straw hats,
and The women to content
themselves with plain calico
gowns.
725
HAKPER'S SOUND TABLE
This company of serious-minded men arid /women, who
tried to solve a great problem by leading the lives of Aca-
dian shepherds, at length dispersed, each one going back
iuto the world aud working on as bravely as if the exper-
iment had been a great success. The record of the life
and experiences of Brook Farm are shadowed forth in The
lllilhaliilf HoiHtince, although it is not by any means a lit-
eral narrative of its existence.
Hawthorne's early married life was spent at Coucord,
near Boston, in a quaint old dwelling called the Manse,
and as all his work partakes of the personal flavor of his
own life, so his existence here is recorded in a delightful
series of essays called Mosses from an Old JJinme. Here
we have a description of the old house itself and of the
author's family life, of the kitchen-garden and apple or-
chards, of the meadows and woods, and of his friendship
with that lover of nature, Henry Thoreau, whose writings
form a valuable contribution to American literature. The
Mtisxi-xfriini <ni old Mnusf must ever be famous as the his-
tory of the quiet hours of the greatest American man of
letters. They are full of Hawthorne's own personality,
and reveal, more than any other of his books, the depth and
purity of his poetic and rarely gifted nature.
In 1853 Hawthorne was appointed American Consul at
Liverpool by his old friend and school-mate Franklin 1'ierce,
then President of the United States. He remained abroad
seven years, spending the last four on the continent. The
results of this experience are found in the celebrated Hiirlih-
Faun, published in Europe under the title Transformation.
It was written in Rome, and it is interesting to know that
the story was partly suggested to Hawthorne by an old
villa near Florence which he occupied with his family.
This old villa possessed a moss-covered tower, " haunted,"
as Hawthorne said in a letter to a friend, "by owls and by
the ghost of a monk who was confined there in the thir-
teenth century, previous to being burnt at the stake in the
principal square of Florence." He also states in the same
letter that he meant to put the old castle bodily in a ro-
mance that was then in his head, and he carried out this
threat by making the villa the old family castle of Doua-
tello.
After Hawthorne returned to America he began two
other novels, one founded upon the old legeud of the elixir
of life. This story was probably suggested to him by Tho-
ivaii, who spoke of the house in which Hawthorne lived at
Concord, after leaving the old Manse, as having been the
abode, a century or two before, of a man who believed that
he should never die. This subject was a charming one for
Hawthorne's peculiar genius, but the story, with another —
the liiilllnr Romance — was never completed, the death of
Hawthorne in 1864 leaving the work unfinished.
Thin Department is conducted in tlie interest of A
be pleased tu answer am- question on the subject i
address Editor Camera Club Department.
Pbotnsrrupliere, and tl.r- K.IU.T will
s possible Correspondents should
HOW TO DEVELOP CLOUD PICTURES.
PICTURES taken simply of clouds, without special at-
tention to the landscape, should be developed very
slowly in order to bring out all the soft shadows, which are
lost if the development is hurried.
Where clouds and landscape, have been taken in one pic-
ture, the printing quality of the negative may beouade uni-
form by careful development of the plate.
Place the plate in a rather weak developer, and as soon
as the outlines of the landscape begin to appear take it
out and place in a dish of clean water so as to arrest the
development. I'onr off the developer, put the plate bad; in
the tray, and tini.-li the plate with brush development. To
do this take a soft camel's-hair brush or a small wad of
surgeon's cotton, dip iuto the developer, aud brush over
the part of the plate which develops more slowly, which
will be the landscape. As soon as this part is nearly de-
veloped flood the plate with a weak solution of developer,
increasing it iu strength till the sky is fully developed.
Brush development requires a careful hand, but, like any
other part of photography, becomes easy by repeated trials.
Another way of developing one part of the plate at a
time is to take the plate from the tray as soon as the out-
lines appear; turn off the developer, and wash the plate
Put it back in the tray, aud tip the tray so that the sky
will be out of the developer, turn iu the developer, and rock
the tray gently to and fro, but do not allow any of the de-
veloper to touch the sky until the shadows in the landscape
are well out.
When the shadows are nearly or quite developed flood
the whole plate with the developer The sky will develop
very quickly, and if the process is carefully watched a fine
even-printing negative will be the result. This plan of
development is most successful where the horizon-line is
not too much broken.
Having once succeeded iu catching the clouds, one will
never be quite satisfied with a landscape picture which has
a perfectly clear sky.
WE DEVOTE A LITTLE of our space this week to tell the
Camera Club something about two publications which have
beeu sent to the editor for inspection, and which are the
work of some of the members of our club.
The first is entitled the focus, a magazine issued by the
Niepee Corresponding Club, and published by Sir Knight
Arthur F. Atkinson, of Sacramento, California.
The literary matter is typewritten, aud the illustrations
are, with one exception, original photographs by members
of the Chapter. The first illustration is a fine platinum
print of the first-prize landscape picture which was pub-
lished in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, March 26,1895. The
first article, entitled "Rural Photography," is a most amus-
ing account of one J. Focus Snapschotte's attempt to take
pictures in the country. The pen ami-ink sketch of "Si-
las " does great credit to the artist, who we suspect is the
publisher of the magazine, as the initials A. F. A. are the
same
The other articles are part of a continued story, a de-
scription of the prize landscape, an account of the capital
of California, and matters connected with the club. The
photographs do great credit to the members, and the
whole magazine is very nicely arranged and embellished.
The second magazine is entitled Hints, and is published
by Sir Knight George D. Galloway and Sir Knight George
Johnson, Jpn., of Eau Claire, Wisconsin.
As its name indicates, it is intended to help the amateur
to do better work. Its object is stated at the beginning:
" This is a practical periodical, and we kuow all who see it
will say so too. From all the prints that are here exhibit-
ed you will get liinta, aud you will notice that your work
will improve steadily in all respects."
This magazine is also illustrated with original photo-
graphs, among which we notice one which also appeared iu
the Camera Club Department a short time ago. It is by
Sir Knight Andrew Phillips, of Nunda, New York, and is eu-
titled •• Knights and Ladies of the Camera Club."
Both of these publications cannot fail to be helpful to
those members who have the privilege of examining them,
for one is sure to learn something by "exchanging ex-
periences." The Chapters which issue these magazines
have reason to feel very proud of them.
A ooiiEESpONiiENT who signs herself "Sweet Marie" asks: 1. How to
prepare the best anil cheapest developer 2. How to make sensitive pa-
per. 3. How to prepare a polishing solution for ferrotype plates. 4.
How to make a ruby lamp. 5. What is stronger water of ammonia. 6
What is bromide of ammonia.
As there are almost as many formulas for developers as there are ama-
teur photographers, it would be quite impossible to say which one is the
cheapest and best. Sir Knight William C Davids, of Rutherford, New
Jersey, sends the following formula, which he recommends very highly.
We shall publish in our papers for beginners several formulas for devel.
oping solutions, with prices of chemicals.
Hydroquinon /viv^-r.—Sodiiim sulphite, 460 grains; sodium carbon-
ate, 960 grains ; hydroqiiinon, 9C grains ; water, 16 ounces
7-26
HAKPER'S ROUND TABLE
I. Mix and filter before using. In No. 786 will be found a simple devel-
oper for instantaneous pictures. 2. Directions for preparing sensitive
paper will be found in Nos. 786 and 803. 3. Directions for polishing
ferrotype plates will be found in Nos. 797 and 805. 4. A ruby light for
dark-room work may be made by taking a wooden starch-box, cutting a
square hole in the cover, and pasting two thicknesses of red fabric over
the opening. A hole must be made in one end of the box— which answers
for the top of the lantern — to allow for ventilation. This must be shield-
ed so as to prevent the escape of actinic rays. This may be clone by
pieces of tin bent so that air can enter, but no white light escape. A
candle should be used with this style of lantern. 5. Ammonia in its pure
state is a gas which combines readily with water, water taking npof the gas
five hundred times its own volume. This is liquid ammonhi, or stronger
water of ammonia. By diluting it with water it becomes the spirits of
hartshorn, or ammonia water. 6. Bromide of ammonia is formed in the
simplest manner by the addition of bromine to water of ammonia. It is
very useful in photographic work. It gives grent sensitiveness to gelatine
and collodion emulsions — combined with pyro for a developer it prevents
fog— and is employed in the preparation of sensitive papers.
This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls ftnd Yonns Women, and the Eiiit-r will
be pleased to answer any question on the subject so fur as possible. Correspondents should
address Editor.
LILLIE M came to see me yesterday, and after she
had gone, Maria G , who was putting a new braid
011 my second-best gown, said:
"That Miss Lillie uses very nice perfumery. It's so faint
and tine, nut anything you can smell a long way off, but
something which makes you think of roses or violets when
she passes you on the street. How does she manage it?"
Maria G likes perfumes, but does not know how to
use them.
"Not by putting cologne on her handkerchief," I an-
swered, decidedly. "Nobody should carry about scents
poured on their garments." I had to say this.
Perfumes are used sparingly by elegant people, yet a
touch, a vague sense of fragrance, does add something of
daintiness to a girl's toilette. It is right for you to have
perfumes about you if you love them.
FKESH rose-leaves thrown into your bureau drawers and
scattered in the boxes where you keep your laces and hand-
kerchiefs, and sprigs of lavender or lemon verbena left there
to dry will impart a pleasant sweetness to whatever lies
among them. Orris-root powder in little sachet bags of
China silk, or strewn lightly between folds of tissue-paper,
will give to your clothing in closet or wardrobe a delight-
ful faint odor of violet. If yon use delicate soap with a
sweet clean perfume, not of musk or anything strong and
pronounced, and put a few drops of alcohol or ammonia in
the water when you bathe, you need not be afraid of any
unfavorable comment on your daintiness. Perfect cleanli-
ness is always dainty. Soil and stain, dust and dirt, are
never anything but repulsive.
ROSE-LEAVES pulled from the perfect flower and laid in
your box of note-paper when they are fresh will dry there,
and insure your sending to your friends notes which will
associate you with fragrance. There is an exquisite per-
fume in dried roses.
How do you seal your letters, by-the-way ? I hope you
have at hand a bit of sponge and a tiny glass of water with
which to moisten the mucilage on the flap of your envelope.
Better still is a little glass cylinder in a glass jar, a very
ornamental and thoroughly clean affair, which can be pro-
cured at any stationer's. The glass jar holds water. You
turn the cylinder, and on its wet surface place your en-
velope. Postage stamps may be moistened in the same
•way.
WHEN friends call, on these very sultry days, you offer
them fans, do you not, and, if they wish it, a glass of cold
water or lemonade? Palm-leaf or Japanese fans should be
in every room in profusion during the summer solstice.
When fans are broken at the edges renew them by a ribbon
binding, and tie a jaunty bow on the handle. "Very few
things should be thrown aside as useless. While an article
can be mended or renovated it is worth keeping, and a
thrifty person never discards a household implement of
any kind until she is convinced that it is worn out.
RIBBON plays an important part in decoration. A bow
on the corner of mamma's sewing-chair, on the dressing-
glass which hangs over the table, on the little birthday
package you send your friend, gives each a sort, of gala
look. The plainest furniture in the plainest bedroom may
be brightened and made attractive by good taste, a few
yards of cheap netting or lace, and the judicious use of
ribbon. Clever fingers can accomplish wonders with very
little money.
A GUJL showed me one day a beantiful sewing -chair,
white and gold as to frame - work, and cushioned with a
lovely chintz, a white ground thickly sprinkled with daisies.
"There!" she said. "Mamma gave me permission to use
anything I could find in our attic, and I hunted around
till I came across this chair. Such a fright! It was dingy
and broken, and fit for nothing but firewood. Look at it
now. Two coats of white paint, some gilding, and this
lovely cushion, and then this ravishing frill and box of yel-
low satin ribbon ! Isn't it a triumph ?"
I said, very sincerely, that I thought it was.
BERTHA wishes me to tell her why lemonade is not al-
ways the rich refreshing drink it should be. Well, Ber-
tha, everybody does not know how to make lemonade. I
squeeze my lemons in a glass lemon-squeezer, mix in my
granulated sugar with a lavish hand, and add the thinly
pared rind of a lemon, dropping it in in circular strips. On
this I pour boiling water, setting it by to cool, and, when
cold, putting it away in the refrigerator. Then when
served I add a strawberry, or a bit of sliced orange or
banana, and some pounded ice, and the lemonade is de-
licious.
/
WHIPPOORWILL.
UNSEEN in the thicket a lone little bird
Cries over and over the sorrowful word,
Till the children, whose sweet lisping prayers have been
said.
Turn over, half waking, and call from their bed,
"Do make that bird stop calling down from the hill
His mournful old story, Whip, whip, oh! poor Will."
What could Will have done in the days long ago
That this bird's great-grandfather hated him so?
Did he rifle a nest, did he climb up a tree,
Did he meddle where he had no business to be ? —
When we find out, dear children, what 'twas Katy did,
The secret with those funny wood gossips hid.
We are likely, and not before then, to discover
The rune that the poor little songster runs over,
Who, hour by hour, up there on the hill.
Calls mournfully, urgently, Oh! whip poor Will.
MODERN WHALING.
IT is natural enough that the Norwegians should be the
most expert people in capturing whales. They live in
their cold country up near the best whaling-grounds in the
world, except, perhaps, the regions about the northern part
of Alaska. For centuries the old Norsemen have been good
whalers and famous at throwing the harpoon, but it was
727
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE MODERN HARPOON AND WHALE BOAT.
left for a famous, perhaps tbe most famous, whaler the
world has known to discover a weapon which made the old
hand-thrown harpoon a hack number. The man was a
Norwegian called Svend Foyn, and an account of his life
would make an interesting and exciting story of adveu-
I inv.s, escapes, dangers, and finally riches.
Old Sveud. who died not long ago at an advanced age,
was a cabin-hoy when he was eleven years old, and did not
have enough money to keep him ashore a month. He used
to sail in different kinds of vessels in his early days, keep-
ing his eyes open, and watching to learn what there was
for a cabin-boy to learn. This was in 1S20. Gradually, as
he grew older, he began to save a few krone here and there,
and when he came ashore after a long trip he would take
as much of his wages as he could possibly spare and put
them in the bank at home in Jonsberg. But it was slow
work, and he was little more than a cabin-boy iu 1845, ex-
cept that he was thirty-six years old and had a neat little
sum in the bank. Then the idea came to him 1o buy a
little vessel of his own, and try to make for himself the
profits he saw others making out of his own and other men's
services.
He scraped together all he hail or could raise, and bought
a brig, and in a very short time he had made a big catch of
seals in the north, and had $'20,000 in the bank, besides the
brig in the wa.ter. Sveud seems to have had all the shrewd-
ness for which Norwegians have long been famous, and
much of the daring and self-reliance of the same great race.
For he started iu 1863, with a little steamer which he had
bought, to the whaling- grounds, and tried to harpoon
whales.
This did uot seem to succeed very well, and he made up
liis mind that spearing whales with a harpoon thrown by
the hand of man was a doubtful thing. He went to work,
HiiTefore, to think of something more, powerful and more
'(it. i in iu its aim than a mail's arm, with the result that he
invented a harpoon which was fired from a gun, and which
carried along with it a shell' that exploded inside the
\\ half's vitals and almost invariably killed it at once.
This harpoon-gnu is now used all over the world, and has
made whaling a wonderfully profitable business.
The gun is placed in the bows of small steamers built
especially for the purpose, and is aimed and fired much as
any other gun. When a whale is sighted the craft is steer-
ed iu its direction, and moves silently up behind the big
monster as he lies on the water taking long breaths or rest-
ing. When the how is within about twenty or thirty yards
of the whale the gunner takes
careful aim at his most vital parts,
and fires the harpoon and shell
combination, which is, of course,
attached to the vessel by a long
line, just as in the case of the old
harpoon. The spear goes deep
into the whale, but the moment
he rushes forward or turns flukes
he tightens the line, and the
end of the spear is therefore pull-
ed out behind. This acts on the
flukes of the harpoon in such a
way that they are pulled out and
catch in the flesh of the whale,
as shown iu the accompanying
illustration, and he cannot there-
t'ciif get away.
But besides this, the flukes, in
thrusting themselves out, break a
little glass tube inside a shell,
which can be seen in the illustra-
tion just ahead of the flukes. In
this tube there is an acid, and
outside the tube but still inside
the shell is another acid. When
the glass is broken and the acid
inside mingles with the other,
they chemically form a third sub-
stance, which is a remarkably ex-
plosive gas that expands so very
quickly and to such enormous proportions that the shell
bursts and explodes inside the whale. If the poor beast is
not killed at once, he is so severely wounded that he is soon
captured and hauled alongside the steamer.
Sometimes, however, the harpoon does not penetrate far
enough or fails to hit a vital part, and then the explosion
only wounds the whale slightly and angers him. At such
times there is a long and a hard chase iu which the steamer
is hauled through the water at thirty miles an hour for dif-
ferent lengths of time. Sveud tells a story of being so
towed by au euormous whale for ten hours at more than
twenty-eight miles an hour up agaiust a hard gale of wind.
At the end of that time, as the whale did uot seem to get
tired, and as the steamer still held together, the cable at-
tached to the harpoon broke, and the whale disappeared.
There is a good deal of danger connected with this mod-
ern harpooning other than the usual danger of the dying
" flurry " of the whale and the long tows that may result, if
he is not killed at once. This danger has proved very real
in several instances. Occasionally, for one of a thousand
reasons, the shell does not explode in the whale. Perhaps
the harpoon does not pull back and break the little glass
tube, or there may not be sufficient strain put on the rope
to break the glass, or the whale may be killed by the force
of the harpoon aloue, and not live long enough to strug-
gle and explode it. In such cases, and they have oc-
curred occasionally, when the whale is hauled alongside,
the harpoon, in being withdrawn, may cause the shell to
explode, when a great deal of havoc results. On more
than one occasion the side for many feet of the steam-
er's length has been blown out, and the steamer, of
course, sunk. So that whaling in modern days, while it
may be more paying, is not by any means less dangerous
than formerly.
This kind of harpooning, or something on the same gen-
eral plan, is coming into general use, and the result is that
the whale is fast being killed oft', for the big fish are being
demolished iu euormous quantities compared with what
men were able to do with the hand harpoou before its in-
troduction.
Svend Foyn made an immense fortune out of his inven-
tion, for he patented it iu many countries, and fitted out a
fleet of small steamers himself; and then, when he had be-
come rich, he did what most men would not have done.
He founded many asylums, hospitals, education and chari-
table institutions, and used his fortune to help mankind in
general and his own countrymen in particular.
728
1INTERSCHOKASTIC
•.
-
-••••*«-•••-»-•«•'«.••
AT LAST I HAVE THE MUCH-NEEDED space to answer the
m.iiiy questions that have been pouring in for some
time past, and also the discussion of a number of interesting
subjects that are unfortunately shut ont during the season
of active interscholastic contests. These will resume in
August with the tennis tournament at Newport, followed
by the opening of the football season everywhere.
WHAT I WANT TO SPEAK OF principally this week is
'cross-country running. It is a branch of sport that re-
ceives far too little attention from school aud college ath-
letes in this country, yet is one of'the oldest, simplest,
and healthiest pastimes on the calendar. In England it
has been popular for years, where there are a number of
'cross -country running clubs of long standing, but in
America we have known the sport scarcely twenty years,
and not very intimately at that. It was first introduced
to us in 1878 by some members of the old Harlem Athletic
Club, their first paper-chase being held on Thanksgiving
day of that year. The American Athletic Club then took
it up, and later, in 1883, the New York Athletic Club held a
race for the individual championship of the United States.
The sport became firmly established in 1887 with the or-
ganization of the National 'Cross-Country Association of
America. This is a very brief history of the sport ; but it
is brief of necessity, for 'cross-country running is still in its
youth.
THEIIF. ARE TWO KINDS of 'cross-country running — the
paper-chase, sometimes called hare and hounds, and the
club run over a fixed course. In the former there should
be two"hares,"a"master of the hounds,"and two "whips."
The hares carry a bag of paper torn up into small bits,
and it is their duty with this paper to lay a fair aud contin-
uous trail from start to finish, except in the case of the break
for home. The master of the hounds runs with the pack,
and has full control of it. In other words, he is the captain.
He sets the pace, or, if he chooses, he can appoint any other
hound to do so. It is usual to travel no faster than the
slowest runner in the pack. The whips are chosen from
among the strongest runners, because it is their duty to
run with the hounds, and to keep laggards up with the
bunch, or assist those who become seized with the idea
that they cannot move another step. These five men are,
so to speak, the officers of the chase. There may be any
number of hounds.
THE HARES ARE USUALLY allowed from five to ten min-
utes' start of the pack, and as soon as they get out of sight
they begin to lay the trail. They choose their own course,
but, they are not allowed to double on their track, and they
must themselves surmount all obstacles over which they
lay the trail. They may cross fordable streams only, aud
must always run within hailing distance of each other.
With the hounds the master takes the lead, following the
trail, and the pack is supposed to keep back of him until
the break for home is ordered. The break is usually made
about a mile from home. It-should never be started at a
greater distance than that, because it is generally a hard
sprint all the way. The point from which the break begins
is indicated, as a rule, by the hares' dropping the bag in
which they have been carrying the paper, or by scattering
several handfuls of paper different in color from that which
has been used to lay the trail. As soon as the break is or-
dered the pack gives up all formation, aud each man runs
at his best speed. If at any time during a chase the pack
catches sight of the hares, it may not make directly for
them, but must follow the trail, thus covering the same
ground gone over by the hares. It frequently happens in
an open country that the hounds are actually within a few
hundred yards of the hares, but perhaps half a mile behind
them along the trail. Such an occurrence always adds ex-
citement to a run.
IT is ADVISABLE FOR THE HARES, the day before -a run
is to be held, to get together and lay ont in a general way
the course they intend to follow. A great deal of the plea-
sure and interest, as well as the benefit in a run, depends
upon this. The more varied the course the less tiresome
will be the chase. Try to select one that will pass over
hills and through woods, with occasionally a short run along
a flat road for a rest. To add to the excitement, lay your
course across a few streams that have to be jumped or
waded. If a runner falls into the water, his ducking will
do him no harm if he keeps on exercising and gets a good
rub-down when he reaches home. The pace going up hill
should never be more rapid than a slow jog-trot ; but run-
ning down, take advantage of the incline and hit the pace
up as fast as yon choose. This will make up for all the
time lost in the ascent.
THE LENGTH OF THE COURSE should be determined by
the strength and proficiency of the runners. It is bad to
attempt to indulge in long runs at first. I would advise
those who intend to take up 'cross-country running this
fall — for the autumn is the prime season for that sport —
to practise trotting a mile or two once or twice a week be-
tween now and then, just to get the muscles hardened^
Don't do too much running in the summer, because the-
air is not so bracing then and the heat causes evil results..
Between Thanksgiving aud Christmas, after the football
season, when there is nothing particular going on, before-
the snow has come, and while the roads are hard and tbe-
hills at their best, then is the time for 'cross-country run-
ning. Then, if you are in good condition, you can have a.
chase of five or eight miles that will make you feel like a
fighting-cock, aud will not stiffen you up the next day. It
is far better to make two or three short runs in various,
sections each week, rather than to make one long run once-
a week — a long run that leaves you aching and sore.
THE CLUB RUN is VERY much like the paper-chase, ex-
cept that no scent is laid. It is more of a race among in-
dividuals. A course is laid out across country by means-
of stakes with Hags nailed to them, and the runners must
follow this as faithfully as they would a paper trail. The-
rnles for this kind of run are the same as for the chase..
There are, of course, a great many minor regulations which,
it is impossible to set down here ; but, after all, unless you
want to go into the sport scientifically, or to get up con-
tests for prizes, the fewer rules you have the butter. Let
common-sense be your guide, aud you will be pretty snre-
to come out all right in the end.
As TO THE OUTFIT required for 'cross-country running,,
little needs to be said. Every runner has his own views-
about what suits him best. In runs for exercise, knicker-
bockers, stout shoes, heavy woollen stockings, and a flannel!
shirt are usually worn. The stockings should be heavy, so-
as to resist being torn by thorns and briars, and the sleeves
of the shirt ought to be of a good length for the same rea-
son. In club runs, experts who are ill for making the
greatest possible speed sometimes wear light shirts with
no sleeves, and regular running shoes without any stock-
ings. They reach home with their arms and legs scratched,
and torn from contact with bushes and twigs, aud their,
729
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
•knees bruised from climbiug over stone walls. This sort
•of tiling may be all vt-ry well for those who make labor of
their recreation, but it does iiot pay for the amateur sports-
man. Be contented with getting exercise, and let others
look after the records.
WHILE SPEAKING OF 'CROSS-COUNTRY RUNNING, it is in-
teresting to recall the greatest race of the kind that ever
occurred iu this country. It was in the early days of tli<'
sport, at the time when those athletic clubs which had teams
of 'cross-country runners each wanted to be regarded as the
best exponent of the sport. The race was a club run over
n marked course, and was held at Fleetwood Park. The
Suburban Harriers had made quite a reputation for them-
selves as 'cross-country runners, their star man being E. C.
Carter. The Manhattan Athletic Club also had a team of
'cross-country men, and felt jealous of their rival's fame.
They therefore brought over from Ireland a famous 'cross-
country runner, who has since become well known iu
American sport, Thomas P. Conneff, and challenged the
Suburban Harriers. They felt all the more confident of vic-
tory because their imported runner had defeated Carter iu
a four-mile race in Dublin a few mouths before.
THE RACE STARTED WITH about seventy competitors, but
Carter and Connetf soon drew out of the buuch, and pulled
rapidly away from the others. The spectators paid little
attention to this crowd; their interest was centred in the
•duel between the two cracks. Connetf let Carter take the
lead and set the pace, and he followed along at his heels.
It was plain that he had made up his mind to dog his rival,
and to depend upon a burst of speed at the finish to win.
Carter, on the other haud, seems to have determined to
outrun his opponent all the way, if possible — to lead him
such a hard chase that there would be no speed left in him
at the finish. Over the entire course the two men retained
their respective distances and positions. The field was
rsoou left far in the rear. At. last they entered on the final
mile around the Fleetwood track. Both men looked wea-
ried by their hard run, but it was impossible to judge even
~theu which must win in the end. They travelled half-
way around the track, and then had to pass behind a low
liillock, which hid them from the sight of the spectators.
All were watching with the greatest excitement the spot
where the track again came into view. Carter came out
•from behind the elevatiou trotting doggedly ou. All looked
•for Couneff, but Conneft' was not to be seen. The gap be-
Jiind Carter widened, and Conneft" came not. Ho had done
his best; lint he was not strong enough, and he had gone to
pieces. He had dropped to the ground back of the hill,
iiuable to move another step.
A BIG RACE, SUCH AS THAT, is most exciting; but. just as
much sport can be had by less able runners. Several of
the colleges, notably Harvard and Yale, have hare and
hounds in the fall — although I do not believe there were
ever any inter -collegiate contests in that branch of sport.
If the schools should take it up in New York or Boston, the
men would soon tind that these runs out into the country
are worth the trouble, and full of living interest. Fancy
trotting across Long Island, or through Westchester, or up
the Hudson, or out beyond Cambridge, if you live in Boston,
anil through all that delightful Massachusetts country
where the British first introduced 'cross-country running
about 120 years ago.
SINCE WRITING ABOUT THE SCORING of games and the
arrangement of tennis tournaments last week, I have beeu
asked to tell of a good system of drawings. The easiest
and fairest way is to write the name of every player on a
separate slip of paper, and drop these into a hat. Shake
the slips well, so that they will get thoroughly mixed, then
draw them out one by one, writ ing down each name as it ap-
pears. The names, of course, are written down the page in
a column, one under the other. If there are several men
from the same club entered for the tournament, it is best
to make the drawing from several hats, placing all the
names of players from one club in the same hat. This
prevents them from coming together iu the early rounds of
ihe tournament. The idea is to arrange the players in the
first round so that they will form a group of 2, 4,8, 16, or
any power of 2. When there is an odd number of entries
a preliminary round must be introduced, iu which the extra
players contest for a place in the first round.
THIS ARRANGES MATTERS so that in the preliminary round
the number of matches played will always equal the uum-
berof extra entries. Perhaps the following diagram, which
was gotten up by Dr. James Dwight, will make the ques-
tion a little more clear:
bye
bye
A
B
(J I
D f
E, I
F | ~
G I
H f -
I bye
J bye
K bye
I
> Wins
The byes, or positions iri the first rouud, are usually given
to those whose names come out of the hat first and last.
If the number of byes is uneven, the odd one goes to the
first.
THE INTEUSCHOLASTIC TENNIS TOURNAMENT will no doubt
be held this year during the first week of the single cham-
pionships at Newport. This begins Tuesday, August 20th,
and so the school-players will no doubt get on to the courts
about Friday or Saturday following. From present in-
dications the Intel-scholastics this year will be one of the
important features of tournament week, and better players
will represent the schools than ever before. More men
have already entered than for any previous Newport inter-
scholastic tournament, and several cracks have not yet
been heard from.
AS IN MATTERS OF THIS KIND GENERALLY, I believe that
players should always be well supported by their adherents.
As many scholars as possible should make it a point to be
at Newport when the tournament is going on to cheer the
scholastic players. If the tennis men feel that their own
friends and classmates are as much interested in their in-
dividual work as if they were a football team or a baseball
team, they will surely strive harder and accomplish more.
IN SPITE OF THE FACT THAT we are iu the middle of
the summer, with the track-athletic season several weeks
behind us, the interest in the formation of a geueral
iuterscholastic athletic association seems to be just as
lively as ever. I judge this from the. number of letters
I receive every week. Some of these letters are short, ap-
proving the scheme, and hoping for its fulfilment; others
are long, suggesting new ideas, or taking exception to
theories that have already been advanced. All are inter-
esting, and many have offered valuable suggestions. I
should like to print some of these communications, and, no
doubt, some time during the coming month the Department
will be able to devote some space to that purpose.
THE SUMMER-TIME is not the best for a discussion of this
kind, and for that reason I have felt somewhat inclined to
let the matter drop for the present. It is not desirable that
it should drop out of sight altogether, however — although
there is scant danger of that — and so, even without any
hope of achieving an immediate result, I shall now and then
take up the subject. A number of readers in various lo-
calities have sent me pictures of the tracks in their neigh-
borhood, aud descriptions of the good points of each. It
will be iuterestiug when all counties are heard from to
compare notes, and see what suggestions can be made to
the committee that will have the question of locality to
decide. There seems to be a growing opinion that New
York would be the best city iu which to hold the meeting,
not only on account of the good tracks available here, but
because there are better facilities for transportation to and
from and within the city, and also because there are more
well-known athletes and officials here whose services could
be availed of. To my great surprise, few of the distant
leagues find any objection to travelling any number of
hours, in view of the great meet there would be after they
reached their destination. THE GRADUATE.
730
PRIZE = STORY COMPETITION.
THIRD=PRIZE STORY.
The Beverley Ghost. By Jenny Mae Blakeslee.
I.
THE old Beverley ]>lace was haunted. At
least tliat is what everybody said, aud
•when "everybody" says a thing is so of
course it is so, especially iu a little town
like Ellistou.
There certainly was a singular melan-
choly air brooding over this old mansion,
although it had been deserted only for
about rive years. The heir to the property,
young Henry Beverley, had gone abroad on
tin- death of his father, leaving the place
unoccupied, and his stay had beeu unex-
pectedly prolonged.
The house was a stately structure of
stone, and would seem a safe place in which
to store the valuables that, according to ru-
mor, had beeu left there — old family plate,
rich mahogany furniture, and costly bric-a-
brac. Reports of all this had aroused the
spirit of covetousness in the breasts of at
least the less scrupulous of the neighboring
villagers. A rumor, however, that the late
Mr. Beverley 's shade made nightly visita-
tions to guard his sou's possessions had
probably so far kept away these would-be
burglars, if such existed.
Farmer Bagstoek stood, one August after-
noon, in the doorway of Mr. Smytlie's little
store — one of the kind that keeps the whole
range of necessities from muslin to mow-
ing-machines. His thin sawlike features
wore an expectant expression, and his eyes
were lightened by a look of cunning and
greed as he occasionally glanced down the
road. Farmer Bagstock was not rich in
this world's goods, and the nature of his ef-
forts to become so might, it is feared, dam-
age his prospects in the next. His patient
waiting was at last rewarded, for a long
lank figure presently appeared far dowu the
street, evidently making for Mr. Smythe's
establishment.
When this individual, known as Hoke
Siinpkius, mounted the steps the farmer
greeted him in a rather surly way.
"Ben waitin' long enough, I should think."
"Couldn't git here no sooner, 'pon my
word," responded Hoke, apologetically.
After a word or two with the talkative
storekeeper,Bagstock bestowed a wink upon
his friend, aud suggested that they " walk
down the road a piece." Hoke complied,
and presently they left the highway aud
entered a small piece of woodland. Fol-
lowing the course of a brook for some dis-
tance, they reached an immense oak-tree
and seated themselves underneath it. The
surrounding underbrush and the oak's thick
truuk concealed them from the view of any
one who might chance to pass along by the
stream.
II.
A short time before this, James Stokes,
one of the village boys, came down to the
brook to try his luck at trout-fishing.. The
afternoon was sultry and rather cloudy, and
it was probable that the fish would bite, if
there were any there. But these contrary
trout evidently turned up their noses at his
tempting Hies, and at last he gave up in
despair. But Jimmy would not relinquish
all hope of a " catch " yet, so he wandered
further up the stream. He walked quite
noiselessly for fear of scaring the fish, and
at last halted just back of a large oak-tree.
Before he had had time to cast his fly Jim-
my heard the sound of men's voices speak-
ing in low1 and cautious tones. Now he
was a typical small boy, .and of a shrewd
and inquiring turn of mind, so he dropped
quietly down ou the bank and listened,
screening himself from possible observation
by getting behind a large stump. Soon he
caught a sentence which made him hold his
breath to hear more.
"Waal," slowly said a voice which he
could not at first recognize, " the only thing
is, we'll haf ter break a winder. I found
everythin' fastened when I skirmished round
t'other night."
"It 'ud make an awful racket, break in'
the glass. 'Twould be better to take a pane
out, I reckon," answered the other man.
Jimmy was quite certain that this speak-
er was Hoke Simpkins.
"Yaas, it might," said the other, medita-
tively ; "that big winder at the end of the
hall."
"Folks say there's piles o' silver and
things worth a heap o' money. How I'd
like to get holt on it!"
And Jimmy knew that Farmer Bagstock
had spOAi'ii.
"Don't see why we can't cut out a pane
right under the ketch. Then we c'u raise
the winder in a jiffy."
"Waal, it might do that way," answered
Bagstoek. " What d' ye say to next Mon-
day night ? That ain't too soon, be it?"
Hoke said he thought not.
"Then," went on the farmer, "we want
dark lanterns, aud," with a chuckle, "I
don't think an old meal-bag or flour-sack
'u'd be onhandy. We could git there about
nine, cut the pane aout, then go off fur a
spell, fur if any one was a-lookiu' it 'u'd
throw 'em off the scent. After a cousid'a-
ble space we could sneak back and git in.
Thar, how's that for a scheme ?" he finished,
triumphantly.
"Fine," said Hoke, admiringly. But he
added, rather slowly, " Folks say old Bever-
ley's spook's around there, y' know, but I
ain't afraid, be you ?"
"Spooks!" laughed Bagstock, scornfully.
"They ain't no sech thing. Ef there was,
they couldn't hurt us."
Both were rather silent for a moment,
however, after this brave speech, and soon
the fanner suggested that they had said
enough for the present, aud might as well
move on. They rose to leave their retreat,
and Jimmy made himself as small as possi-
ble back of the stump. As he was on the
other side of the brook from the men, they
passed by without seeing him, and were
presently lost to his view.
Then Jimmy rose to his feet, shook him-
self, looked around, and gave vent to his
feelings by a long whistle and the exclama-
tion, " Jimiuy Clirismus, if I could only —
He stopped short, seeming to remember
that " discretion is the better part of valor,"
and that some one might be listening to
hear what lie was going to say. So he only
walked away very slowly, almost forgetting
to pick up his fishing-tackle in his absorp-
tion. On arriving home he laid his rod on
the front porch, and without lingering a
moment, dashed across the lawn, got through (
a hole in the fence, and then raced across
lots to the village store. He encountered
hi§ bosom friend Will Smythe in front of
his father's establishment, aud greeted him
excitedly.
"Hullo, Bill! I've got something to tell
you. Quick! Come over to the orchard;
I can't wait a minute."
Full of curiosity Bill followed Jimmy's
lead, and they were soon in their favorite
haunt, an old apple-tree.
"Now, "said Jimmy, " wait till you hear
what I have to tell you. Whew! It's im-
mense !"
Billy was breathless with interest, and
Jim unfolded the plot he had heard. Will
became as excited as his friend could wish,
and exclaimed :
"The scoundrels! Can't we head them
off?"
"If we could only hit on something with-
out letting any one know. That miserly
Bagstock ! Father always said he wouldn't
trust him with a dime, and Hoke Simpkins
would do anything Bagstock told him to.
He's a coward, anyway."
Billy was lost in thought. Suddenly he
exclaimed: "Hurrah! I have it. Just the
thing." In his eagerness he nearly fell out
of the tree. When he had managed to tell
(Continued on pag€ 733.)
A-DVERTISTCMKNTS.
Highest of all in Leavening Power.— Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Baking
Powder
PURE
HARPER'S NEW CATALOGUE,
Thoroughly revised, classified, and indexed, will
by mail to any address on receipt of ten cents.
731
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Bicycle route
Fair bicycle road
Railway stahon.
BICYCLING
This Department is conducted i i the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will he pleased to-
answer any question on the- subject. Our maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly
supplied from ttie official maps ami road-books of the Leairue of American Wheelmen. Recop-
nizii'c the value <•! the work heinf: done by the L. A. W.. the Editor will be pleased to furbish
subscribers with membership blanks and infonji'ttiou so far as possible.
IN No. 812 we published a map ot'Staten Island, showing
tin' run across the Island to Totteuville. It was a route
which \vc then called attention to as a good short ride
within the reach of any New-Yorker for a Sunday afler-
noou or a holiday spin. This bicycle route from St. George's
to Tottenville is also, however, the lirst stage in a run to
Philadelphia, which in many ways is as pleasant, a tonr as.
any one in the vicinity of New York city or Philadelphia
conld well take.
THIS MAP this week takes np the route from Tottenville
and carries it on to Trenton, New1 Jersey, a distance of
thirty-five or thirty-six miles. As a matter of fact, if you
are planning to take the Philadelphia tonr, it is wise to-
make a night stop at New Brunswick instead of Totten-
ville. Then, by stopping at Trenton the next night, the
third day will bring you into Philadelphia. As has often
been said in this Department, these distances are not for
"scorchers" or old and long-distance riders. They are for
people — young people especially — who are riding for the fun
of ruling, and who will find mnch more amusement if they
take the runs which have been proved to be the best in
their vicinity. And, by-the-way, no readers need be angry
because the maps so far have been all in the viciuity of
New York. As time goes on it is our purpose to treat the
neighborhood of Philadelphia and Boston as we have treat-
ed New York, and then to cover territory in the vicinity of
other cities also.
Tins Ki'N TO PHILADELPHIA can be made in one day by
a good man. It can be done in two days with less than
fifty miles each day ; but if you arc wise, and if yim want
to see the country, and get some pleasure out of the ride,
do it slowly and take three days. Crossing the ferry at Tot-
tenville, Stateu Island, you run out of Perth Amboy direct,
bearing right in a diagonal fashion one block. This will
bring you in a short time to the Metuchen road, and this
should lie kept to for about four miles beyond Perth Am-
boy. Here, instead of keeping on into Metuchcn,you will
save distance and get a better road by turning to the left
to Woodville, and then running through Bonhamton, Pis-
cataway, into New Brunswick. This is about twenty-six
miles from St. George's, and a good place to stop for the
night is the Palmer House. Running out of New Bruns-
wick yon cross the bridge, and, passing out Albany Street,
turn to the left and go through Franklin Park, Bunker
Hill, into Kingston ; thence, crossing the bridge, keep to the
left, and run on into Princeton, where a pleasant stop may
be made at the Princeton Inn. From New Brunswick to
Kingston is largely down hill and is thirteen miles, and
from thence to Priucetou is three miles further.
TKOM PRINCETON TO TRENTON is thirteen miles, the
road being of clay and shale, and pretty good if not too
wet. Keeping to the road running along in front of the
Princeton Inn the rider runs into Lawreuceville, about five
miles out, and from here he makes direct for the old Tren-
ton Turnpike. Turning left into this his road is straight
to Trenton, a distance of six miles from Lan reuceville and
twenty-nine miles from New Brunswick, the road being on
the whole a gentle decline all the way, with occasional
small but no bad hills.
NOTK.— Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of
route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
Connecticut, in No. Sll. New York lo Stnten Islaud in No. 812. New
Jersey from Hobokeu to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814-
Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816.
Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in
No. SIS. Hudson to Albany in No. 819.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
(Continued from page 731.)
his plan it met with tivmetulons applause
from Jimmy. What caiia- of Will's bold iu-
spiratiou remains to be seen.
III.
Monday evening was moonless, just the
night for a reckless deed. The conspirators
thought that they were especially favored.
By nine both were at the meeting-place, and
repaired in silence to the old house. The
night was one of the kind that ghosts nsu-
jilly select for a promenade, and this thought
may have occurred to the minds of the
fanner and Hoke. Each assured himself
that such an idea, was nonsense, but just the
same this delicate subject was not mention-
ed.
The window being found, Bagstock pro-
ceeded to pry out the paue. Then both, af-
ter glancing cautiously about, stole away to
Simpkius's house, which was not far distant.
It was fully an hour before they returned
.ami viewed the window. All was as they
liml left it, aud Bagstock said, in a hoarse
whisper,
"Now, then, you climb in first."
Hoke drew back a little. The house,
somehow, looked unusually dismal.
"What, you ain't afraid, be you?" ejacu-
lated the farmer.
Hoke said. " Of course not," but for some
unaccountable reason his voice shook slight-
ly. He consented to be boosted up, and in-
serting his hand in the opening, easily nn-
<lid the catch and raised the lower sash.
Both of them would have been seized with
consternation had they imagined that hut a
short time before other hands than their
own had made the same use of this very
window.
Now, Hoke was an awkward youth, aud
in climbing over the sill his foot caught,
which very shortly deposited him on the
floor. This mishap added to his misgiv-
ings, but he picked himself up and helped
in the impatient Bagstock. They were now
inside the walls which sheltered the coveted
treasure. What to do next?
With the aid of their dark lanterns they
groped along the hall, which ran from
front to back, as in most old houses built in
the colonial style. Poor Hoke found his
knees beginning to shake in a distressing
manner. Any corner might suddenly reveal
something to strike them with terror. If
he had not discarded his hat before enter-
ing it, would have been at present resting
on the ends of his abundant crop of hair.
He was obliged to catch hold of the fanner
to steady himself, which called forth a
growl from that quarter, fop Bagstock was
having all he could do to stifle some little
misgivings of his own.
"Where the dickeus," he muttered, •• can
the thiugs —
He stopped suddenly. The hall was wide
as well as long, and they had now nearly
reached tin1 front end. At one side stood a
large heavy chest, suggestive of riches
stored, perhaps, in its depths. Near it was
a heap of furniture and rubbish. Bagstock
had taken a step forward, aud almost had
his hand on the chest, when his lantern
flashed on something. This "something"
made his knees shake more, his hair rise
higher, and his eyes bulge out further than
Hoke's ever thought of doing. Seated on
that very chest was an object in white, per-
fectly motionless, its head evidently turned
toward the men. The fanner was trans-
fixed with horror, and what Hoke was un-
dergoing at that moment may be imagined
but not described. He only gave vent to a
kind of howl and dropped with a thud on
the floor. Bagstock looked as though his
shaky knees would oblige him to follow
Hoke's example, when suddenly the figure
moved. It rose slowly, slowly, to its full
height, raised one long arm, and pointing to
the chest, said, in low, blood-curdling tones :
"Yoiifb-r lies the treasure. Jtrtnirt .' Touch
it not, <ir //<' <lii- .'"
They waited to hear no more. Somehow
they reached that window by a succession
of bumpings and scrapings, and finally, with
a particularly heavy and emphatic thump,
Hoke found himself on the ground. Before
he could struggle up the farmer was on top
of him. After they had extricated them-
selves it did not take long for both to put a
good half-mile between themselves and the
haunted house.
A rumor that two men had attempted to
burglarize the Beverley house, but had been
nearly frightened out of their wits by the
famous ghost, aud taken themselves oft' in
terror, caused much excitement in the vil-
lage. The names of the two men no one
seemed able to find out, but Bill Sniythe
and James Stokes had many a laugh in pri-
vate over the sheepish look which the faces
of Farmer Bagstock and Hoke Simpkins al-
ways wore when the subject of the burglary
was mentioned.
YOUNG MOTHERS
should early lejiru the necessity of keeping on hand a
supply of Gail Borden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk
for uiimni: babies as well as for general cooking. It
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HOSIERY
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Caution : man^TrmUtions
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namely, J> or Chester, 31 ;»*•-
IB printed on each package.
SOLD BY GROCERS EVERYWHERE.
WALTER BAKER & CO. LTD. DORCHESTER, MASS.
OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT <*"»;™i
CILLOTT'S PENS ut the CHICAGO hsrosmoN.
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tempering is excellent and the action of tho finished
pens perfect." (Signed) FRANZ VOGT,
.H. I. KIMBALL. IndividualJudge.
Aporoved :-. Pres't Departmental Committee,
(JOHN BOYD THACHER,
Chairman Exec. Com. on Awards.
Postage Stamps, &~c.
CTAn/lDO ! BOO fine mixed Victoria. Cape of G.
OlMIVIrO ! H., India, Japan, etc.. with fine Sttmn
Album, only 10o. New So-p. Price . list IVce.
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STAMP CO.. 4 Nicholson Place. St. Louis. Mo. Old
U. S. and Confederate Sumps bought.
100 nil dif. Venezuela, Costa Rica, etc.. only
10c.; 200 nil dif.Hnyti, Hawaii, etc., only 50c.
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^ INGERSOLL 4 BRO.. 65 Cortlandt Street N. T.
Old
and
New.
Franklin
Square
Song
Collection-
The "Franklin Square Library "
has given many valuable numbers,
but none so universally attractive as
this. Nowhere do we know of an
equally useful collection of School,
Home, Nursery, and Fireside Songs
and Hymns which everybody ought
to be able to preserve, and which
everybody will1 be able to enjoy. —
Springfield Journal.
Price, 50 cents: Cloth. Si. op. Full contents of
the Eight Numbers, with Specimen Pages of favor-
ite Songs and Hymns sent by Harper S: Brothers,
New York, to any address.
733
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Suggestions for that Gala Night.
So many want to know how to have Hint "Gala
Evening" ihat we print the directions.
It is intended for out-of-doors — a lawn or vacant
lot. II' need lie, build a platform 16 by 20 feet, but
where the grass is smooth this may uot be necessary.
Get evergreens from the woods for "scenery," and
use two pairs of portieres sewed together fora curtain.
For mnsic use an upright piauo, if nothing better
offers; for lights use lanterns— head lights, if you can
get them ; and for seats borrow benches from a church
or hall, or they may easily be made from some bor-
rowed lumber.
A capital programme will be a pantomime and a
farce. Nobody has anything to learn in the former,
so if yon want to get it all np in two nights' practice
select two pantomimes. Here are some good ones:
"The Mistletoe Bough," to be had of French & Son,
28 West 23d Street, New York, price 15 cents; and
"Aunt Betsy," " Priscilla," and "Dresden China,"
Harper & Brothers, New York, price 5 cents each. If
you can try a farce, get "A Ticket to the Circus " or
"The Tables Turned," Harper & Brothers, price 6
cents each, or "Who's Who?" "Turn Him Oul,"
"The Delegate," "Quiet Family," or " Bountiful For-
ever," price 15 cents each, to be had of French.
An ideal programme is "The Mistletoe Bough,"
followed by either "A Ticket to the Circus" or
" Wlio's Who ? ' The former takes eighteen or
twenty ; the latter four. A good way is to send for
one copy of several farces and pantomimes, then read
and select what is best suited to your needs.
Sell your tickets in advance at 25 cents each. When
I hey are presented, give a small blue or red check,
which you explain is good fora plate of cream after
the performance. Let the ice-cream man attend to
all details, and you cash all his checks next day at 5
cents each. He will do this, and your guests will be
satisfied.
Do not fear an element of discord from the neigh-
borhood small hoy because the performance IB out-of-
doors, nor need you fear people will come in without
paying if you have no rope stretched. You will have
no trouble from these sources. The thing is novel,
being out-of-doors. There is no rent to pay. The
ice-cream to be had free will«draw if you advertise it.
And, by confining yonr programme to pantomimes,
yon can learn all in two evenings. Even farces take
little longer, and you cannot fail in rendering them.
One member asks if Chapters have to help the
School Fund. Our Order has no " have tos." A com-
pany of young persons might give the " Gala Even-
ing," present a small sum to the Fund or some other
charity, and with the balance get each one taking
part HARPER'S ROUND TABLE for one year. But of
course you do as you please with yonr own. The
gala evening or gala afternoon is the thing.
Making Small Journals.
The Table is much interested in amateur jour-
nalism, and is able to print herewith two morsels
that may be of benefit to all. Ralph T. Hale is co-
editor with F. W. Beale, of the Amatmr Collector,
11% Spring Street, Newburyport, Mass., and Ed-
ward Lind edits the Jug, Box 633. East Oakland,
Cal.,and is greatly interested in the National Press
Association. Both papers are models, the Table
thinks, of what play journals should be. Of course
Sir Ralph may send us that natural history morsel.
He writes :
" When a person has decided to publish an ama-
teur paper, he first prepares a 'dummy' showing
the size of his pages and their number, the number
of columns on a page, the place where he intends
to print his sub-heading and editorials, and the
amount of space he intends to give to advertise-
ments. Then he goes round among his friends
and asks their subscriptions, and likewise solicits
advertisements from his business acquaintances.
Having established his paper on a comparatively
firm financial basis, he next proceeds to prepare
copy for his first issue, first consulting a printer as
to prices which he should pay for a good job.
After he has published his first number it is much
easier to secure subscriptions and advertisements,
as he has a paper to show to doubtful persons.
"The prices for printing depend largely on the
quality of work and the size ;md number of papers
printed. Printers will generally print five hundred
papers at about the same price as that asked for
one hundred. Remember that it is the amount of
type which a printer has to set which decides the
price. Sometimes the price is as high as seven or
eight dollars per hundred, and again it is as low as
two dollars and a half for five hundred.
"Of course, if you. are lucky enough to have a
press of your own, the cost of au amateur paper is
not so large, but for a boy busy with school-work
it pays better in the end to hire the greater part
of his printing done. The size of an amateur paper
is one of the most important points to be consid-
ered. It should not be too large, for then it has
an overgrown appearance, nor yet too small. A
medium size is preferable. Good sizes are S by 5)£
inches, and 7 by 10 for each page. I am very much
interested in botany, and would like to correspond
on that subject. May I write ngain on natural
history? RALPH T. HALE."
As there are amateur papers, there are also ama-
teur printers. As a rule, these printers do good
work for a much less price than professional print-
ers charge. Perhaps the cheapest amateur printer
is M. R. King, of Cobleskill, N. Y Mr. King will
print 500 copies of a paper, size page of HARPER'S
MAGAZINE, for $1 per page. The National Amateur
Press Association convenes at Chicago July 16-18.
The ticket below is the one favored most by the
Pacific coast: For President, David L. Ilollub, of
San Francisco ; for First Vice- President, C. W. Kis-
singer, of Reading, Pa. ; for Kecordiiig Secretary,
A. E. Barnard, of Chicago, 111. ; for Corresponding
Secretary, E. A. Hering, of Seattle, Wash. ; for
Treasurer, Alson Brubaker, of Fargo, N. D ; for
Official Editor, Will Hancock, of Fargo, N. D. ; for
Executive Judges, C. R. Burger, Miss E. L. Ilauck,
and J. F. Morton, Jun.
The Pacific coast is the most active amateur
centre in the world. There are thirty-four ama-
teur papers in San Francisco. Seattle has a live
amateur press club of thirl y members. I shall be
glad to send sample copies of amateur papers and
to give further information. EDWAHD LIND.
Answers to Kinks.
No. 87. — Buoli-worm — Bookworm.
No. 88.— A Study in Cats : 1. Cat-alogue. 2. Cat-
aclysm. 3. Cat-amaran. 4. Cat-fall. 5. Cat-block.
6 Cat-salt. 1. Cat-achresis. 8. Cat-erpillar. 9. Cat-
aract. 10. Cat-ling. 11. Cat-aplasm. 12. Cat-e-
chism. 13 Cat-afalque. 14. Cat-acomb. 15. Cat-
o'-nine-tails. 16. Cat-adupe. 17. Cat-alepsy. 18. Cat-
sup. 19. Cat-tie. 80. Cat's-foot. 21. Cat-acoustics.
22. Cat-aphonies. 23. Cat-aphrect. 24. Cat-echn-
men. 25 Cat-silver. 2f>. Cat-nip. 27. Cat-apult.
28 Cat-agmalic. 29. Cat-enatiou. 30. Cat egory.
31. Cat-gut. 32. Cat-kin.
ibclpino
s> Ikinhs. o
No. 89.— AN ARBORET FROM THE POEl'S.
Foil SPIIING-TIMK.
1. "Swelled with new life the darkening * * *
on high
Prints her thick buds against the spotted
sky."
2. "On all her boughs the stately ********
cleaves
The gummy shroud that wraps her embryo
leaves."
3. "Far away from their native air
The *«***« »*,,* their green dress
wear;
And ******* swing their long, loose
hair."
4. "The ********* spread their palms like
holy men in prayer."
5. "The wild *****-*,**, waste their fra-
grant stores
In leafy islands walled with madrepores
And lapped in Orient seas,
When all their feathery palms toss, plume-
like, in the breeze."
6. "Give to Northern winds the »***-»***
oil our banner's tattered field."
7. "The ***** —dreamy Titans roused from
sleep —
Answer with mighty voices, deep on deep
Of wakened foliage surging like a sea."
8. "The *»*»-*»***, tall and bland,
The ancient * * * *, austere and grand."
9. "The ***** *'s whistling lashes, wrung
By the wild winds of gusty March."
10. "Take what she gives, her * * * *'s tall stem,
Her * * * with hanging spray ;
She wears her mountain diadem
Still in her own proud way."
11. "Look on the forests' ancient kings,
The ****** *'s towering pride."
13. " O ***** ,*-*,**. O****»«, -*,*«!
How faithful are thy branches !
Green not alone in summer-time,
But in the winter's frost and rime I"
Fill blanks with names of trees, and give the
authors.
734
The Harry Harper Chapter, of Newtown, Conn.,
gave an entertainment the other evening in aid of
the School Fund. It scored a success, of course,
though at this writing it is too early to have a re-
port of the proceeds. The Table thanks the Chap-
ter and gives the programme, that others may
adapt it to their purposes. The Chapter had the
help of an older person in Mr. Andrews, who gave
many hints, decided hard questions, and on ihe
programme gave a talk on "Mother Hnbbard."
There was an introduction by Curtis Morris, who
told about Good Will, the Order, and the Chapter.
A solo followed, "Ten Little Nigger Boys," (by 1
Charlie Jonas, and Katie Houlihan gave a recita- ]
tion. Arthur Plait rendered well a violin solo, ]
and the entertainment concluded with a very!
funny farce, The Frorj Hollow Lyceum,
* * *
The Order's New Patents.
Late applicants for Patents in the Round Table ,
Order are asked to wait a few days for responses. I
Patents of the new design are being prepared and
will, of course, be sent as soon as possible.
* * *
More About Young Journalists.
Two of the most creditable specimens of ama-
teur journals that have come to the Table in a long 1
time are the Club Register, 51 Third Av'e., Long |
Branch, N. J., and the Marklttonian, Markleton, Pa.
The latter, published by Fred G. Patterson, is about
as neat in appearance as any amateur paper we
ever saw. He wants contributors, and will send a
sample free. Harris Reed. Juu., president of the j
Nineteenth Century Club (Chapter 604), of Phila-
delphia, is much interested in the Register. This
paper wants contributors, and the Club wants mem-
bers. Sir Harris's address is 1119 Mt. Vernon St.
* * *
Questions an& answers.
W. H. LEGGETT.— What you have made is a truss,
not slings at all. Slings are chains running from a
mast-head cap down through the hounds, and are
used to support a lower yard which is fastened
to the mast by a truss, and is not intended to be I
raised or lowered. A yard which is to be hoisted i
and lowered should be secured to the mast by a :
parral of leather, and should be raised by lifts \
and halyards. (2.) Clew-lines lead from the deck
through a clew-block under the yard, find through •
the clew-line block in the sail, the standing part I
being taken between the head of the sail and the I
yard, and made fast to the arm of the truss. (3.) I
Lead the braces to the main-top. (4.) Your dimen- :
sions are not good, unless your draught is to be in-
creased by a heavy lead keel. Your proportion of I
more than five beams to the length is bad. She!
ought to have more beam— say, sixteen inches. :j
The capstan ought to be on the forecastle-deck.
The dimensions of spars are good.
FRANK J. SMYTH. — Snch a set of rules as you ask '(
for would occupy too much space in this paper.
The racing rules of the American Model Yacht
Club were printed in Forest and Stream for Novem-
ber 24, 1894. Send ten cents and postage to the J
office of that paper, 318 Broadway, and get a copy.
HERBERT ARNOLD.— Dimensions of a good dory
would be sixteen feet long on the bottom, seven-
teen feet over all. three feet six inches wide on the
bottom amidships, four feet eight inches wide at
the gunwale amidships, and two feet deep. You
could not have a safer boat in any waters.
HAKPER'S ROUND TABLE
STAMPS
Tins Impertinent is ccimlnrteil i
lectors, and the Editor will he pleased to answer any question ou
these subjects so far as possible. CorrespoDdents should address Editor
Stamp Department.
QriTE A NUMBER OF inquiries have come
to me as to \vli:it is "embossiug" or "grill-
ing." Both words mean the same thing in
philately. Above are two illustrations from
the lri67-G8 stamps. It seems at one time
the government feared that cancelled post-
age-stamps could be used a second time.
They therefore adopted (in 1867) a method
of impressing or embossing ou the backs of
the stamps after they had been gummed a
series of small squares, each square having a
sharp point. The idea was that these points
or squares would break the tibre of the paper,
so that the gum and cancellation ink would
go right through the stamp, and thus make
a second use impossible. At first the entire
stamp was grilled, and these are now quite
rare, and the 3c.-stamps are worth about
$20 used, or $25 unused. This was soon
given up, and a grill measuring 13x16 mil-
limeters was used. These stamps were in
turn soou discontinued, and are now scarce,
tliis 3c. -stamp is worth $5 used, §20 unused.
The grills were then reduced to 11x13 mm.
and Ux 13 mm. Of the first variety of grills
the 1, 2, 3, 10, 12, and 15c. are found. Of the
latter all values from 1 to 90c. are found.
In 1869 the new issue of stamps brought a
still smaller grill into use, 9i x9imm. Then
in 1870 the new issue had a grill 9 x Hi mm.
The 1,2, and 3c. of this issue are common,
but all the other values are rare, especially
the 12 c. and 24c., which are worth from $25
to $35 each. In 1871 a grill, frjx 1<H, was
used on the 1, 2, and 3c. only, but soon dis-
continued, and since then no U. S. stamps
have beeu so made. Peru used the same
grills on some stamps, but has also discon-
tinued the practice. A number of double
grills and odd-sized grills are kuown, and
are much sought after by specialists.
n. M. POYNTKK. — The 5-frauc piece 1809, France, is
Bold by dealers at $1.
L. A. D.— The 1861 and 1868 U. S. stamps are printed
from the same dies in the same colors, but the 1S6S
are "grilled." An early number of the ROUND TAIILK
will conta.n illustrations of these grills. The Costa
Rica, Honduras, Salvador, etc., unused, are probably
remainders.
F. EDGHUTON.— Postmarks have no value.
J. G. — The quotation was on one million assorted,
and the vulue depends altogether on the number of
varieties in each lot. Apply to any dealer.
HAROLD SIMONPS. — The stamps are part of the "Ju-
bilee" issue of New South Wales, all of which bear
the inscription, " One Hundred Years." They were
issued in 1888 to commemorate the one-hundredth an-
niversary of the first settlement made in 1788.
F. H. L.— The halt-dollar without rays is the scarce
one. The coins mentioned do not command a pre-
mium.
IVORY 5 GAP
PURE
At all grocery stores east of the Rocky Mountains two sizes of Ivory Soap-
are sold ; one that costs five cents a cake, and a larger size. The larger cake is the
more convenient and economical for laundry and general household use. If your
Grocer is out of it, insist on his getting it for you.
THE PROCTER & GAMBLE Co- OIN-TI.
EARN A TRICYCLE!
We wish to introtUiee our
Teas. Spiffs. un«l linking
Powilc r. Sell ai His. and
we will give you a Fairy
Tricycle : sell 26 Ibs. for
aSoliciSilvei Wutfband
Chiiin ; 60 Ibs. fora Gold
Watchaml chain ; 75 Ibs.
for a Bicycle ; 10 Ibs.
for a Beautiful (Jold
Ring. Express prepaid
11 r;ish is sent for goods.
Write lor catalog and
On ler sheet.
W. G. BAKER,
SPRINGFIELD, MASS.
[CARD PRINTERffffF
GEND for Catalogue of
*J the Musical liistru-
meitt you think of buying.
Violins repaired l»v the
Cremona System. C. STORY,
26 Central St.. Boston. Mass.
Lour. YOU c
pretty type, also Indel
ita 500 ofcrds a
_
it. A font of
Ink. Type HoM«r. Pad*
L- ---- ,,,o. Linen Marker; worth 81. IK).
usil. .1 FREE for lOo. stamps for poetic oa
z. _ i uuiit and lurfie catalogue of lOw Bargains.
It. 1 1. 1 iLf- n-,,1 1 & Bro. 66 t'ortlandt St. N.T. Cltj-
Harper's Catalogue,
Thoroughly revised, classified, and in-
dexed, will be sent by mail to any ad-
dress on receipt of ten cents.
Reading for the Vacation
By THOMAS W. KNOX
THE "BOY TRAVELLERS" SERIES
Copiously Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $3 oo per volume.
ADVENTURES OF TWO YOUTHS—
IN THE LEVANT.
IN SOUTHERN EUROPE.
IN CENTRAL EUROPE.
IN NORTHERN EUROPE.
IN GREAT BRITAIN AND
IRELAND.
IN MEXICO.
IN AUSTRALASIA.
ON THE CONGO.
IN THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE.
IN SOUTH AMERICA.
IN CENTRAL AFRICA.
IN EGYPT AND PALESTINE.
IN CEYLON AND INDIA.
IN SIAM AND JAVA.
IN JAPAN AND CHINA.
OTHER BOOKS BY COLONEL KNOX:
HUNTING ADVENTURES ON LAND AND SEA
2 vols. Copiously Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth,
Ornamental, $2 50 each.
THE YOUNG NIMRODS IN NORTH AMERICA. - - THE YOUNG NIMRODS AROUND THE WORLD.
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York
The above works are for sale by all booksellers, or will be mailed by the publishers, postage
prepaid, on receipt of the priee.
735
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
TWO OF A KIND.
AN APPEAL.
I WISH you would buy me a wheel, daddy dear,
Ob, really and truly I do.
It.'s worth quite a million of dollars to me,
Arid costs but twelve dollars for yon.
And nothing I know of in all of this world,
No matter how hard I may think,
So easily keeps me from mischief at home,
Like cutting up pranks with your ink.
So buy me a bicycle, papa, I pray,
A wheel that will spin like a breeze,
And keep me from getting in trouble iu-doors;
I am truly so anxious to please.
PATRICK had a nice little trade in ice in the small town of
B , and everything progressed smoothly, until one day
a rival set up business, and by degrees took Pat's custom-
ers away. Patrick was very mad and swore vengeance-,
but was at a loss how to accomplish the matter. At last he
hit upon a plan, and immediately proceeded to put it into
•execution.
He visited each of the customers he had lost, and solemn-
ly assured them that his rival only sold warm ice.
A THEATRICAL malinger had considerable trouble with
his star actor, who was constantly meeting with accidents
•or falling sick. One day, as the story goes, the star was
hurt in a boiler explosion. When the manager heard of it
he remarked to his agent, " I am sick of this sort of thing.
Advertise him, as usual, and add that we intend bringing
•out a new piece, in which the great star Mr. D will ap-
pear in screral parts."
BctniiY. "1 wish the Lord had made the world in two
days."
JACK. " Why ?"
BOBBY. "Then we'd have had three Sundays a week."
AT THE CAT SHOW.
MRS. S. " What is the name of yam cat?"
MRS. W. "Claude."
MRS. S. "Why do you call it Claude P"
MRS. W. "Because it scratched me."
Ax old darky lived in the South who was a great bar-
terer, and it was very hard to beat him on a trade. It
seems he had sold a mule, guaranteeing him faultless. The
purchaser shortly after came back in a great rage, and
said,
"Look here, you rascal, that mnle you sold me is blind in
one eye; you assured me he had no faults."
" Dat's right, sah ; dat mule babe no faults. If he am
blind in one eye, dat am his misfortune, not his fault."
" I THINK I ought to stay home from school to-day," said
Bobbie.
" Why so, Bobbie ?'' asked his father. "You aren't ill, are
you ?"
"No, poppy; but I dreamed I was in school answering
questions all last night, and I think I've had enough for
one day," said Bobbie.
"Do you know your letters, Jack?"
"No, sir; but the postman does, and he always tells. I
don't need to know "em."
"HAVE you tried the ROUXD TABLE bicycle maps, Wil-
bui ?" asked Wilbur's father.
"Yes, I have," said Wilbur; "but the trouble is, daddy,
sometimes I get 'em upside down, and sort of have trouble
finding my way home."
•On!"
•An!"
•My!" "Evit!"
BABY ELEPHANT AND BUBBLES.
730
HARPERS
ROUND TABLE
'npyrighl, 1895, by HARPKH & BROTHHBS. All Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 821.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY. JULY 23. IS'.i:,
FIVE CENTS A COPY
TWO DOLI.AKS A TEAR.
CORPORAL FRED.
A Story of the Riots.
BY CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U.S.A.
CHAPTER I.
IT was a TV arm June evening, and the family was taking
the air on the back porch — father and mother, two
stalwart young men, the elder sons, two slender girls, and
a, romping boy of nine — the little Benjamin of the tribe.
It was a placid homelike group; father deep in the daily
paper and his easy-chair, mother absorbed in chat with
the girls even while keeping watchful eye on "the baby,"
the family's pet, pride, and torment by turns, and the two
elder sons sitting on the edge of the porch, talking in low
tone of an event, that had called for no little discussion all
over the neighborhood — the strike of the switchmen in
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
the great freight yards only a block away. Five railway
companies rolled their trains in anil out ol' the thronging,
far-spreading metropolis to the eastward — the great city
•whose hum aud iinirninr were borne to them on the soft
breeze sleeping inland from the cool bine bosom of the
Jake. For two miles along a number of parallel tracks
•were idly resting now by hundreds the grimy freight cars
of a dozen lines, while the gleaming steel rails on the
"through " tracks, kept cleared from end to end, were as
silent, as deserted, as the long tangents over the boundless
prairies miles to west and south, for, except on the mail
trains, over the whole system since the stroke of five that
afternoon not a wheel was turning. Never before in all
their seven years of residence in this homelike little frame
cottage had the Wallace household known such utter silence
at " the yards." They missed the rush and roar of the great
express engines, the clatter of the puffing little "switch-
ers," the rumble aud jar of the heavy freight trains, the
dancing will-o'-the-wisp signals of the trainmen's lights,
the clang of hell, and hiss of steam. There was something
unnatural in the stillness, something almost oppressive, aud
mother and the girls, glad ordinarily to have both Jim and
Fred at home, seemed weighted with a sense, of something
strained and troublous in the situation. Jim had been a
railway man for several years, rising by industry, intelli-
gence, and steadiness, to his present grade as a freight con-
ductor. Fred, the younger, held a clerkship in the great
"plant" of the Amity Wagon-works. He had received a
good High-School education, while Jim's wages, added to
his father's, had supported the family and built the little
suburban home. The elder brother's hands were browned
by long contact with grimy brake and blistering, sun-baked
car roofs. The younger's were white and slender — hands
that knew no labor other than the pen. Both boys were
athletic and powerful ; Jim, through long years in the open
air and active, energetic life, Fred, through systematic
training in the gymnasium and the camp aud armory of
the National Guard, for Fred had been three years a sol-
dier in' a "crack" city regiment, and the corporal's chev-
rons on his uniform were his greatest, pride. Even in boy
days he had begun his training in the cadet corps of the
public school, where military drill, especially the "setting-
up" system of the regular army, had been wisely added to
the daily course of instruction ; and while Jim's biirly form
was a tritie bowed and heavy, Fred's slender frame was
erect, sinewy, and, in every motion, quick and elastic.
"Jim could hug the breath out of yon, Fred, like a thun-
dering big bear if he once got his arms around you, and
Fred could dance all around and hammer you into pulp,
Jim, while you wen- trying to grip him,'' was the way the
father expressed it, and old Wallace knew young men in
general and his own boys in particular as well as might be
expected of the clear-eyed, shrewd-beaded veteran that he
was. He himself had served the Great Western railway
faithfully from the days when it was only the struggling
Lake Shore, aud now as a first-class mechanic in the repair
shops he was a foreman whom officials and operators alike
respected. He had lived a sober, honest, industrious life,
had reared his family on the principle of mind your own
business and pay as you go, and was looking forward to
retiring within a year or two, and giving his aching old
bones the rest they deserve. 1, and enjoying the fruits of
his life of toil, when the long-predicted irruption began
with the strike ordered by the Switchmen's Union.
With anxious face Mr. Wallace was reading the news-
paper accounts of the stormy meetings held the previous
night aud well along into the dawning day. Some of the
men involved were his life-long friends, others of them he
had known many years. Their uames were not among
those of the speakers whose tiery oratory had finally pre-
vailed. They were of the silent, almost passive element,
which, largely in the majority at lirst, found itself little by
little swinging over under the lash of the more aggressive,
and at last giving reluctant "aye'1 or sitting in moody si-
lence rather than face the furious denunciation of the agi-
tators that followed sharp on every "no." At two o'clock
in the morning the members of the union, three-fourths of
whom were originally bitterly opposed to the project, had
passed a resolution that unless certain men discharged by
the management of one of the five roads using the yards
were ivinMaled b\ twelve o'clock that day they would
(pi it work to a man, and tie up the business of that and all
the others. At nine in the morning the committee h;nl
waited on the division superintendent with their ultima-
tum. The superintendent replied that the three men dis-
charged were freight handlers who had refused to touch
the contents of certain cars of the Air Line because of
some unsettled disagreement between the officials of that
line and their employees. "We know nothing of that
matter," said the superintendent. "It is none of our busi-
ness. We employed these meu to handle any and all
freight run into these yards, aud we have no use for men
who refuse to do so. They not only fhitly refused to han-
dle that Air Line stuff, hut said they'd see to it that no
one else did. That ended the matter so far as we're con-
cerned. Now you come and demand that men be restored
to work who not only will not work themselves, but will
not let others work. You aud I have grown up together,
some of you, at least, in the employment of this road. You,
Morton, aud you, Toohey, were switchmen here under me
when I was yard-master six years ago. You know and I
know that what you ask is utterly absurd. No road can
do business on any such principles as that. Even if these
discharged men did not richly deserve their discharge,
what affair is it of yours? You are switchmen. You've
never had a grievance that I know of. You never would
have come to me with such a demand in this world but
that you had been bamboozled or bulldozed into it by fel-
lows who have no earthly connection with you. and whose
only business in life is to go round stirring up trouble
among honest men, living on their contributions, and tak-
ing precious good care to keep out of the way when the
clash comes. No, lads, I've been your friend, and you know
it. Between you and injustice of any kind I'm as ready
to stand to-day as ever before, but I'd be no friend of yours,
I'd deserve your contempt as well as that of our employers
and the whole people, if I allowed my freight handlers to
dictate to me whose freight they should handle. Those
men courted discharge and they got it. Out they went
and out they stay if I have to handle every pound of
freight myself."
There was dead silence a moment in the office. The
committeemen stood uneasily before their old friend and
chief; three of them looked as though they wished they
hadn't come and wanted to quit, two were more deter-
mined. It was one of these who spoke.
"Then, Mr. Williams, you refuse to listen to our appeal
for justice ?"
Mr. Williams whirled around in his chair, sharply con-
fronting the speaker; his clear blue eyes seemed to look
him through and through, a flush almost of anger swept
over his face a moment, and he waited before he spoke. He
had picked up a ruler, and was lightly tapping the edge of
the desk as he tilted back in his chair.
"Your name is Stoltz, I believe. I refuse nothing of the
kind, and you know it. I have listened with more pa-
tience than it deserved. None of these, the old bands,
would have hinted at such a thing, and if they aud their
fellows will take the advice of a man they've known ten
years to your ten months they'll not again be led by a word-
juggler. Now if there's any other matter any of the rest
of you wish to bring up," and here the Superintendent
looked frankly around upon the anxious, almost crest-fallen
faces of the other men, •• I'll listen to you gladly, but you,
Stoltz, have been far too short a time an employ^ of the
road to presume to speak for those who have served it al-
most as long as I have."
"Yes, and what have they got for it? Do they sit in a
swell office, ride in parlor cars, drive fast horses, sport
handsome clothes — " began Stoltz, sueeringly.
" That's enough, Stoltz. They know that with a railvv a\
as with an army the men cau't all be generals and colonels.
Say to your friends, boys," he continued, in kindly tone,
" that when they want anything of the road hereafter
they'll be far more apt to get it by coming themselves
than l>y sending Stoltz. That's all, then."
738
HAMPER'S ROUND TABLE
"No, it isn't all!" declaimed Stoltz, angrily. "You
haven't heard our side. If those three men ain't back in
their places at twelve o'clock, we of the Switchmen's I'nion
go out to a man, "and the spokesman paused to let this an-
nouncement have its due effect. It had.
"So far as oue of the Union is concerned he goes out
here and iiow, and that one," said Jlr. Williams, "is your-
self. The others will, I hope, think twice before they act."
"Yon mean I'm discharged!"
"On the spot." said Mr. Williams, " and there is the door."
For hours that hot June day had the story of that inter-
view sped from tongue to tongue. The managers of the
Switchmen's Union had been shrewd and wise in naming
as members of their committee three of the oldest, stanch-
est, and most faithful hands in the employ of the company.
They were sure of a hearing. Then to do the aggressive,
this comparatively new man, Stoltz, was named, together
with a kindred spirit of less ability, and these two men were
the backbone, so said the managers, of the first attack.
Stoltz was a German-American of good education, though
deeply imbued with socialistic theories, and a seductive,
plausible speaker on the theme of the wiougs of the labor-
ing man. It was he who, under the guidance of shrewd
agitators and "walking delegates," had been most active
and denunciatory at the switchmen's meetings. Honest
laboring men are slow of speech, as a rule, and fluency
often impresses them where logic would have no effect.
The committee came away, two of them exultant and eager
for the fray. They had been disdainfully treated, said
they, sneered at, reviled, and one of them summarily " tired "
as the result of this visit to the magnate. The others were
gloomily silent. It was too late to recede. The javeliu
was already thrown. At the stroke of five every man on
duty quietly quit his post. Many left the yard. Others,
eager to see what the officials might do, remained. Stopped
at the outskirts of the city, no trains came in. Only the
evening mail crept out, its own crew manning the success-
ive switches.
. It was now 8.45, and barely dark. The western sky was
still faintly illumined. Old Wallace could no longer read,
and bent down to take a hand in the talk between his
boys. Silence still reigned in the deserted yards. Men
hovered in muttering groups, and watched the few of-
ficials who flitted about with lanterns in their hands. A
rumor was going around that the management had deter-
mined to send out all the night passenger trains as usual,
and the first of these should be along by ten o'clock. As
Mr. Wallace bent over Jim's broad shoulder his wife and
daughters ceased their low chatter. Evidently something
was i>n the old man's minil.
"There's no danger of its spreading to your people, is
there, Jim ? Would you go out if they did ?"
. "Father," said the young man, slowly, "you know the
ties by which we are bound. Suppose now that Fred's
regiment were ordered out, would you ask him would he go?"
Old Wallace looked graver still. " I consider that a very
different proposition," said he. "I was hoping — " he fal-
tered, when a young fellow in soiled blue flannel garb
slipped quietly in through the rear gate, and coming up to
the freight conductor, said the two words,
"Wanted, Jim."
Jim's bronzed cheek turned a shade lighter.
"What hour.'"
"At once."
And before the others could ask explanation of this scene
a bicycle came flashing up to the same gate, and the tall
rider dismounted and strode quickly toward the party.
Young Fred's eyes glistened at sight of him.
"Orders, Sergeant ?" he eagerly inquired.
"Y'es. Notify your squad to make arrangements with
their employers, and be ready to report at the armory at a
moment's notice."
The two brothers stood facing each other a little later,
then silently clasped hands. Oue at the beck of a secret
protective organization, the other at the call of duty to
State and nation, parted at their father's gate to go their
separate ways.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
A BOY'S AQUARIUM.
BOYS who live in the city do not, perhaps, get quite the
freedom of action and fun generally that a country
boy can, but they do manage to ha\e a pretty good time,
even if they have to work a little harder for it. It is hard
to keep pets in the city. Dogs need a lot of exercising,
birds are apt to be a nuisance to the neighbors, if not to the
boy's family, and yet pets are a necessity to every well-
brought-up boy's happiness.
An aquarium is always dear to every boy's heart. And
aquariums are not impossible in a city house. Fortunately
i hey can be just as well taken care of in the city as in the
country. A medium-sized aquarium which will hold quite a
lot of stuff can be bought for si '<>< or 81 75. This must be
filled with gravel or sand to the depth of four inches. In
the sand must be, securely fastened, some water-grasses,
which arc for sale at any of the stores where fish are to be
bought. The boys who succeed best with their aquariums
are those who study the matter pretty thoroughly before
they begin, and read up the scientific books of natural his-
tory. The simpler works of this sort contain any amount
of practical information which any boy can apply to his
own use.
A porous stone seems to be necessary in the middle of the
aquarium. As for the placing of the water plants, they
must be left to the boy's own taste and judgment. Indeed,
the arrangement of the whole aquarium must be left to the
boy who owns it. In this place I must stop and say that
it is foolish for any boy to consult many of his playmates
as to how the thing should be arranged, for when he has
asked and received much advice, he will find that most of
it is directly opposed to what he already knew, and be-
sides is so varied as to be nearly useless. A glass tube for
removing the manure from the sand must be kept beside
the aquarium, if the scavengers, such as pollywogs and
snails, fail to do their duty in cleaning up.
An extreme!}' pretty aquarium has lately been fitted up
by a boy about eleven years old. It is not a very large
one. and stands on a small table near the window of his
room — too near, it may be said, for the sun these summer
days having unusual power has caused the untimely death
of two many-tailed Japanese gold-fish and four extremely
graceful little silver-fish. With the exception of this mor-
tality, the death rate has been quite low. The original oc-
cnpantsof the aquarium before these recent deaths consisted
of two pair of Japanese gold-fish, two pair of silver-fish,
two pollywogs — one small one, who worked busily all day
trying to do his 'share of the work in keeping the place
.clean, and oue big fat pollywog, who sadly neglected his
duty and spent his time trying to turn into a frog as quickly
as he possibly could. Six snails, who were put in the aqua-
rium to keep the glass clean, worked hard and satisfactorily
in accomplishing their mission (in the beginning one snail
was at first relegated to this work, but the task was be-
yond his power, and, after making a superhuman effort to
go the whole round, he yielded up his life).
The water in the aquarium is changed twice a month, and
when that is done the fish are lifted out very tenderly and
carefully with a little scoop net, and put in a basin near
by overnight, until every impurity of the sand shall have
settled and the water is absolutely transparent. This per-
formance is always one of deep anxiety, and requires un-
remitting attention to be sure that everything is replaced
exactly as it was before, so that the fishes will know their
home when they get back to it. There was a lizard put in
this aquarium, to begin with, but he proved of a very
quarrelsome disposition, and tried to bite the tails of the
fish, so that he had to be removed to a basin,:where he lives
a life of solitude. The pleasure given by this little aqua-
rium has far exceeded the outlay of money, and many a
useful lessou in neatness and care has been learned in
looking out for the needs of the fish. A:XXE HKLME.
MIITHEI:. "Jack, why is it you have so many holes in
jour pocket- .'"
JACK. " I guess it's my money which burns through."
739
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
PERILS OF THE NEWFOUNDLAND
BANKS.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
IT was blowiu^ half a gale from the southward and east-
ward, aud the Captain said it would be worse before it
was better. Tbe Moliau-k was plunging bead first over the
raffed seas, with a great roaring of thunderous foam under
ber bawseboles as she fell into the wide hollows, aud a
sickening upward swirl of her lean stem as she rose again
to meet the reeling cliffs of water that swept down upou
her out of the windward ghiuiii. The streamer of browu
smoke that rushed from her tall black funnel went wreath-
ing aud shuddering away to leeward, where it seemed to
add a blacker tinge to the gray wall of the hard clouds.
The sea was not yet torn to spoon-drift by the wind ; but
there was a huge under-running sweep of swell that made
one thiuk that bad weather lay behind the windward
horizon.
Ever and anon the propeller would leap out of
the water, aud as it revolved in the air, set the ship full
of rumbling quivers. Most of the passengers — aud they
were not many, for it was not one of the big "liners" — lay
below decks in the unspeakable agony of early seasickness,
for the ship was not long out, aud had just reached the
edge of the Newfoundland banks. A lew of the ocean
travellers, however, mostly men who had seen salt spray
before, sat huddled in their rugs under the lee of the deck-
house, conversing upon such cheering topics as collisions,
and icebergs, and leaks. One who had not crossed the sea
before, hut who was free from sickness, said,
" I am told that we are now on the banks of Newfound-
laud, where foolish men go iu small sailing-vessels to
fish."
"Foolish you may well call them," said an old voyager,
"for they lie there in thick weather and thin without
making a sign of their presence. I remember once, steam-
ing slowly through a dense fog on a great Cuuarder, we
heard the fog-horn of a single sailing craft, and presently
that ceased. A minute later the fog lifted, and there were
thirty sail of them within the circumference of a mile. I
tell yon, those fellows are —
"Sail ho!" cried the lookout forward, and several pas-
sengers sprang to their feet. They knew that it was out
of the common order of things on a merchant steamer to
make a noise about a passing sail, such fussiness being
left to men-of-war that have uothing more to do. They
crowded to the rail of the ship, aud far ahead they saw
what seemed to be a small sloop staggering over the big
seas under very scant canvas. The lookout and the offi-
cer on the bridge exchanged some words, from which the
passengers learned that the sailor made the vessel out to
be in distress.
"Call away the whale-boat!" cried the officer, and in a
moment the boatswain's pipe was screeching, and three or
four seamen trotted aft in their oilskins.
"A rescue!" exclaimed the new voyager. "I had no
hope that I should ever be so fortunate as to see such a
thing."
" I'm not so certain that you'll regard it, as good fortune,"
said an old voyager. "Sometimes these tilings are tragic,
especially in a rising gale, when your own boat's crew may
be lost in the attempt."
'• Do you thiuk it may come to that?"
"Ay, man, it may in such a sea; but let us hope for the
best. See, we are coming abreast of the cripple. But we
must cross to the other side; our ship will go to windward
of her." Aud marvelling at the old voyager's sea lore, the
new one went with the others to the weather-rail, where
the force of the gale came upon them aud beat their breath
back into their nostrils.
"Heaven's mercy!" exclaimed the new voyager, "but it
is a sad sight."
She was a little schooner of some fifty tons. Her fore-
mast had been carried away about ten feet above the deck,
and bad taken with it her jibbonm and her maintopmast.
The forecastle deck was a litter of broken timbers and
tangled cordage that washed pitiably from side to side as
the waters rolled over the splintered rail, or sobbed through
its gaping seams. The mainboom was lashed amidships,
and a jib-headed storm trysail was sheeted aft. A spare
jib had been set from the mainmast head to the stump
of the foremast, aud under these two cloths the poor
maimed craft was desperately striving to keep her shat-
tered head to the threatening seas. High up iu the main
rigging flew the United States flag, union down, poor Jack's
red, white, and blue cry for help. There was an ominous
heaviness about, the fall of her bows into the restless hol-
lows that told the Captain of the Moliawk that she had not
long to live.
" We'll send a boat for you," he roared down the wind,
as his steamer slipped slowly ahead.
The hapless wretches on the schooner waved their hands
and uttered a faint cheer. The whale-boat was lowered
away when the Mohawk was half a mile to windward of
the wreck. The buoyant little craft leaped over the
waves, disappearing between them, aud then tossing high
in air on their foamy crests.
" It's all a wonder to me that she doesn't capsize," said
the new voyager.
"A good whale-boat will outlive a poor ship," said the
veteran .
Aud now watching with their glasses the passengers saw
the whale-boat sweep down under the stern of the schooner,
and round up under her lee, while the bowmau stood up aud
hurled a line to one of the schoouer's people. By the aid of
this the whale-boat was dropped under the lee quarter of the
cripple, and at each upward swing of the smaller craft one
of the shipwrecked marines contrived to tumble into her.
Six men and a boy of some fifteen years they were. Mean-
while the steamer was dropped slowly down until she was
within a fair pull of the schooner. The whale-boat came
leaping and dancing over the seas, the men laying down
their broad backs to the oars, aud the white smoke of the
spray flying on either bow. It was no small task to get
the men out of the boat without crushing her like paper
asainst the iron side of the steamer as it swung downward,
yet by patience and seamen's skill it was accomplished.
The whale-boat was hoisted to her davits, and the.Mohau'k
resumed her voyage, while the shipwrecked men were
taken below to be given warm drinks, food, and dry cloth-
ing.
" Will not their schooner drift about iu the path of pass-
ing ships?" asked the new voyager.
"No, I fancy not," said the veteran; "she will — look!"
At that instant the little schoouer's steru rose high into
the air, where it hung poised for a moment. Then she
was swiftly absorbed by the pitiless sea, and ber fluttering
ensign made a bright spot above a patch of angry green
for a moment and was gone.
" I never saw a sadder sight," said the new voyager,
gazing with humid eyes upou the blank sea.
"There is none sadder," replied the veteran passen-
ger.
They all returned to their sung seats under the lee of
the deck-house, and for a long time were lost iu medita-
tion. Then the new voyager looked up aud said, " I should
like to bear their story."
" That is possible," answered the veteran ; " come."
The Captain of the J/o/micfr was found and the request
made. He sent for the skipper of the lost schooner, and
said : " Do you feel able, now to tell me your story ? If so,
these gentlemen also would like to hear it."
"Well, Captain," began the wrecked skipper, "it's a
common enough story, that's a fact, sir, and I reckon it
hasn't anything in it that you never heard before, though
perhaps some of your passengers here never got nearer to
it than a newspaper at a breakfast table. That was the
schooner ihinj Anthony, from Gloucester, and I'm her mas-
ter— that is, I was — Joshua Clark by name, and the boy's
my son on his first v'yage. That schooner was about all I
had iu the world, gentlemen, for I owned her myself, and
when she, went down a little while ago the hard work of
seventeen years went down with her. But I s'pose I
mustn't complain, because we take our lives and fortunes
in our hands whenever we come out to the Banks to fish,
740
THE PASSENGERS SAW THE WHALE-BOAT SWEEP DOWN UNDER THE STERN OP THE SCHOONER.
and that's a fact. We got under way from Gloucester ou
as sweet a morning as ever yon saw, gentlemen, with a
whole-sail breeze from the southwest. The Mary Anthony
was a smart sailer, though I do say it, and she wasn't long
in getting the land below the horizon, and that's a fact.
When we reached the Banks we found a fairly large fleet
on the ground, and we were soon at work among the best
of them. It isn't worth while trying to describe the mere
matter of fishing to you, gentlemen, because, of course, that
isn't what you want to hear about. It's enough for me to
say that we'd been on the Banks three days and had very
good luck before the accident befell us. I s'pose, Captain,
yon didn't see anything of a fog last night, did you ?"
"No; we must have heen well outside of it."
"Two steamers passed us before the fog set in, and of
course they had no trouble keeping clear of the fleet. Yes-
terday afternoon I slipped away to the southward of the
rest of them, some half a dozen miles, following a school of
fish, and all of a sudden I saw the fog coming up. I made
up my mind that there wasn't any use of going back, and
so I lay to right where I was. The fog came down thicker
than cheese, and not long afterward the heavy swell set in
from the southward and eastward, and I knew there was
weather brewing. So I had all the dories got aboard and
stowed amidships. The swell kept ou increasing, and the
fog was so thick you couldn't see the length of the schooner.
It was just after three bells in the midwatch when I heard
a yell from my lookout. Before I could tumble out of my
bunk there was a tremendous thump that threw me half-
way across my cabin. I jumped on deck just in time to
see the huge black hull of a steamer towering above us.
She slipped away into the fog, and was gone. There were
a few shouts from her deck, but we neither saw nor heard
any more of her.
" I sprang forward to see what damage had been done. I
found my little schooner had been mortally hurt, gentle-
men, and that's a fact. The foremast, as you must have
noticed, had been snapped off about ten feet above the
deck, and had carried a lot of our rig with it. But that
was not all. The wreckage from aloft had fallen so that
something — the foretopmast, I suppose — had smashed our
dories into kindling wood. I sent my mate below, and he
came back with the report that we were taking in water
through half a dozen seams forward. I set two bauds at
work to try to stop the leaks, while the rest of us cleared
away some of the wreckage. Meanwhile the swell had in-
creased so that we were rolling dreadfully, and there was
great danger that some one would be hurt by the loose
timbers. I'm thankful, however, that we escaped that mis-
fortune. Toward daylight the wind rose and blew the fog
off. I saw that we were in for a blow, and I decided to run
toward the laud as long as I dared. I set the canvas that
you saw, and started her off ahead of the gale. All hands
were sent to the pumps, but in spite of our hardest work
the water gained on us. The gale increased and the sea
rose, and then I found that the schooner was so heavy with
the water in her that she was in great danger of being
pooped — that is, gentlemen, having a sea break over her
stern and sweep her decks. That would have been the end
of us, and not a soul would have known what had become
of us, for, you see. we had no boats to take to, they being
smashed. So there was nothing to do but to heave her to
and wait, hoping that some ship might come along and
take us off. Gentlemen, it's cruel hard to work at the
pumps till your arms are numb and your back feels as if it
were being cut with a saw, and still to know that your ves-
sel is settling under yon, and that in a short time she must
go down. I tell you we cast mighty anxious looks around
the horizon every time we rose on a sea; and we felt like
cheering when we saw the smoke from yonr funnel down
iu the west. Then came another time of anxiety before we
were sure you were coming our way, and even after that
we wereu't positive that yon would take us off."
"What!" exclaimed the new voyager; "is it possible
that there are men so inhuman as to leave fellow-creatures
ou a sinking vessel f"
" There are a few such fellows on the sea," said the Cap-
tain of the schooner ; "but I don't think any of them sail
under the flag that yonr Captain ran up to his peak when
he saw our signal of distress."
741
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE SWEETMEAT AGE.
LONG ago when tlie moon was one big jiie
For all little boys to <-;ii.
Then some of the stars were sugar-plums,
And some of them raisins SWIM -t :
Then the glorious snu was a custard pudding
Served up in a vast blue dish ;
And the whole of the sea was soda-water
Half filled with ice-cream lish;
The great round earth was a luscious peach,
The grass was the pnckery fuzz —
If it doesn't seem true to all and each,
Let him believe it who does —
Then the mountain-peaks were chocolate drops,
And the icebergs Roman punch ;
And the- dark storm-clouds rained lemonade —
People dug up the mud for luuch.
When it hailed, the hailstones were fine popcorn,
And pulverized sugar it snowed ;
And the brooks as they ran by the candy-trees
With lovely root-beer o'erflowed.
Ah ! that was the time, in the long ago,
When children worked hard, tooth and tongue;
But most of them suffered from overfed stomachs,
And, somehow, they all died young. E. H.
WINNING A WATERMELON.
O CRATCHBONES is certainly not a very elegant name,
O and yet the animal to whom it belonged, a very ragged-
looking mule, was proudly claimed by its owner, Goliath
Washington Jackson, an equally ragged-looking Southern
darky, to be the philosopher of the mule tribe. Why he
claimed this has never been definitely settled, and \\lien-
ever any question was put to Goliath regarding the excel-
lence of Scratchbones's intelligence, the reply would be
something like this:
"Yes, sah! How I know dat mule am intelligent? He!
'he! be! but dat's, funny. Yon 'member de ole school-
massa ? Well, sah, he owned dat mule once, au' ueber
feeded 'im up to de handle. One day Scratch was hungrier
dan usual, an' be chewed de ole man's books. He neher
forgot dat eddication." And here Goliath would chuckle
to himself.
Our town recently received an innovation in the shape
of a splendidly asphalted street, and one very hot day. shortly
after its completion, Goliath drove up to the door of the
hardware store with Scratchhones. Coming in, he began
boasting, as usual, of his wonderful mule, and how well he
stood the hot weather. None of us young fellows cared to
question the heat, and as for the mule, we thought it was
either stand it or lie down. He evidently preferred to
stand, for there he stood in the blazing snu staring blankly
down the street.
Goliath had dropped in to make some purchases, which,
of course, necessitated a great deal of talk and time. In
the mean while Seratehbones was patiently waiting in the
hot suu outside, scarcely budging, unless it was an occa-
sional switch of his tail. A thunder-storm had beeu brew-
ing, and when Goliath finally started for the door down
came the rain, sending up steam from the hot street. No-
thing suited him better than to have an excuse to further
regale us with a list of his mule's remarkable talents.
Among the many, he spoke of his ability to drive Scrateh-
liones, and how well he obeyed him. Now, while this talk
bad been going on. I had occasionally glanced at Scratch-
bones, and he seemed uneasy, especially since the rain had
started, and was nervously switching his tail back and
forth. I thought it was on account of the storm, but casu-
ally glancing at him. I noted si •thing that made me
smile, and, slipping off my seat, I quietly told the other
boys.
"Goliath,"! said, " I'll wager a large .juicy watermelon
that your mule won't obey you if I tell him not to."
"Ha! ha! ha! He! he! yonse is fooliu' dis yere ole
man,Massa Harry."
"No, no,I mean it. All I'll do is to say something to
myself, and your mule wou't budge when yon say ' gee,'
but simply wag his tail."
'• It's done, Massa Harry. 1'se '11 take dat wager, but de
melon has to he de largest yon can git."
"All right," I said. And as it had stopped raining,
Goliath proceeded to his wagon, and, climbing up on the
seat, picked up the ropes he called reins and shouted, "Gee
up dere, Scratch." Bat, as I predicted, Scratch never
moved a leg, but only switched his tail.
"Gee up dere; what's de mattah wif yonse ?" But not
a move did that mule make. We stood in the doorway
laughing so heartily that Goliath grew suspicions, and
climbing down, walked slowly around the mule and wagon,
doubtless to discover if we had played him a trick.
Everything appeared all right, aud getting on the wagon,
he tried it again. "Get along dere, Scratch, yon long-eared
hone-yard. Gee up !"
It was useless; Scratch wouldn't move, and Goliath. with
a woe-begone, puzzled expression on his face, clambered
down and surveyed old Seratehbones. His eyes wandered
along every stitch of the harness, and finally down to
Scratch's feet. A very curious look covered his face, and
stooping, he discovered the reason why Scratch wouldn't
gee.
Scratchboues aud the wagon had stood so long on that
new asphalt, and unfortunately in a place made softer than
the rest by the sun, that he actually had sunk i»/« it. and
the tarry stuff had gathered around his hoofs. The rain-
fall cooled it off, hardening it. and consequently both mule
and wagon were locked to the street.
Goliath was mad, and claimed we had put up the joke
on him. However, he lost the melon, aud as it took an
hour or so to dig Scratch out, we made him get it. and final-
ly got him into good humor, but told him never to boast
of his wonderful mule.
" I's done boastiu' of dat mule. Neher no more, masses,
dat mule done need no one to boast of 'im. He done show
bow proud he am when he can't stau' in de street widour.
gettiu' stuck on 'imself." HUBERT EARL.
A MEAN MAN.
A FRENCH paper tells of a man who ought to be set
down as the meanest man of his time. His name is
Rapincau. and he is the happy father of three children.
His chief claim to meanness lies in the fact that he has
lately discovered a plan to reduce his weekly expenditure.
Every morning, when sitting down at table, he makes the
following proposal : " Those who will go without breakfast
shall have twopence." " lie — me !" exclaim the youngsters
iu chorus. Rapineau gives them the money and suppresses
the breakfast. Iu the afternoon, when the children were
anxiously expecting their first meal, liapincau calls out,
" Those who want their dinner must give twopence ;" and
they all pay hack what they received in the morning for
going without their breakfast, aud in that way Rapineau
saves a meal a day.
JOHN KILBURNE'S FORT.
BY JAMES OTIS.
SEVEN miles from that settlement iu the province of
New Hampshire which is now known as Kt-ene. John
Kilburne built, iu the year 1754, a log house of such strength
aud so well adapted for defence that his neighbors spoke of
it as a" garrison, "and re than one ridiculed the idea of
erecting a fort when only a dwelling-house was required.
It troubled stout-hearted John Kilburne not one whit
that his acquaintances found subject for mirth in the pre-
cautions he took against a savage foe. "In case the lud-
iaus do make an attack upon rue and mine, I shall he in
743
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
better condition to receive them in a building of this kind
than in cue erected flimsily, and if tliey do not, my wife and
two boys will sleep all the more soundly for knowing I have.
protected them from possible intruders." This the owner
of the " garrison " repeated again and again, until finding
he would make no other reply to their bantering, his friends
ceased to speak derisively of the structure.
In one year from the time the fortlike bouse had been
built John Kilburue had good cause for satisfaction with
himself. England was again at war with the French re-
garding her possessions in the New World, and the Indians
were making indiscriminate attacks upon the settlers in the
easternmost provinces.
Benjamin and Arthur Kilbnrne, sons of John and Mar-
tha bis wife, although but fourteen and twelve years of
age respectively, were well versed in the use of fire-arms,
for in those days the assistance of even the children of a
household might become necessary. Rumors of Indian
depredations were rife, yet they felt little fear of an at-
tack. Within the walls of the " garrison " their father and
themselves would be able to hold in check a large body of
savages, and be exposed to but little danger.
The crops had been harvested; the cattle were inside the
stockade, where was ample food for them in case qf a siege,
and where they would serve as food if the larder of the
house needed replenishing.
Early on the morning of the 9th of October John Pike,
his wife, and two sisters arrived at the "garrison" with a
pitiful tale. The Indians had killed Daniel Twitchel and
Jacob Flynt the night previous, and the visitors had but
just escaped from their home before it was set on fire by
the cruel enemy.
"I doubt not they will make an attack here before an-
other day, friend Kilbnrne, yet I beg shelter of you, and
my rifle may not come amiss."
"You would be welcome to stay, even though unarmed,"
was the hearty reply. "The garrison is large enough for
all, and I would that Daniel Twitchel had spent more time
strengthening his own dwelling against an attack instead
of trying to find flaws in the way I chose to provide for my
family. Ben, you and your brother had better mould liul-
lets. It will serve to keep you in-doors, and no one can say
how much ammunition may lie needed."
As the boys set about the task. Mr. Killmrne listened
again to the sad news brought by his neighbor. There
was nothing to be done iu the way of making ready for
defence, because that had been attended to when no dan-
ger threatened.
John Pike had not finished giving his story in detail,
when Mrs. Kilbnrne, who had stepped out of the house to
get water from the pump, which stood close at hand, sprang
back suddenly, her fare so pale that there was no necessity
of asking the cause of her alarm.
The two men were at the loop-holes in an instant, and
that which he saw caused Mr. Kilbnrne to say sharply :
" Ben, I leave the north side of the house to you and your
brother. Our lives may depend upon your vigilance, and
there is to be no waste of ammunition; every bullet must
strike its target. Mary," he added, to his wife, ''you and
your friends will keep the spare guns loaded, and finish
what the boys have left undone at the fire. I do not —
"It is a regular army that has come upou us, "Mr. Pike
interrupted. "I have counted not less than forty savages
in the edge of the thicket, and there must be as many more
on either side of the house!"
It was learned later that the enemy numbered a hun-
dred and seventy, all well armed.
Ben and Arthur were peering eagerly out through loop-
holes cut on each side of the shuttered window, and the
former was the first to discharge his weapon.
'• I saw a bead over the top of the stockade," he said, iu
reply to his father's question.
"Their number is so large that they will likely put on a
bolder front than usual, "Mr. Kilburue muttered to himself,
and despite the strength of the "garrison," he felt decided-
ly anxious regarding the result of the attack.
During an hour the men and boys remained on watch,
while the women attended to their portion of the work,
and hardly a sound was heard, save when the brothers
whispered together. After the first shot had heen fired
the enemy remained completely hidden iu the thicket
which surrounded the house.
Then, and almost at the same instant, each of the watch-
ers discharged his weapon. On either side of the stockade
plui 1 heads had suddenly come into view, and a hundred
bullets struck the building.
There was a low moan from that portion of the room
where Mr. Kilburne was stationed; but owing to the re-
ports of the fire-arms, it was not heard by the inmates.
The first intimation the defenders had that one of their
number had fallen under the heavy fire was when I'.i n
turned to take up the spare gnu his mother had placed by
his side, and saw his father lying on the floor with a thin
stream of blood issuing from his lips.
"Oh. father!" he cried, as he ran toward the wounded
man ; but when be would have raised the dear head he was
motioned away :
"Remember your mother, my boy! Yon can do me no
good, and now there is additional reason why yon should
not neglect your duty."
By this time Mrs. Killmrne was at her husband's side,
and Ben took his station at the loop-hole once more ; but
the tears blinded him, until it became necessary to brush
them away before he could see the feather-bedecked bodies
which were here and there upon the stockade ready to
leap into the enclosure.
During the next half-hour neither of the boys had an
opportunity to so much as glance toward their father.
Should the enemy succeed in getting into the enclosure,
the result might, and probably would, be fatal to the de-
fenders of the house.
John Pike made valiant battle, nor were the boys lack-
ing in skill and courage. More than one of the foe had
met death before he could leap down from the top of the
stockade, and four who did succeed were met by bullets
« hile creeping up close to the building, where the timbers
would shelter them from the deadly aim of those within.
After this desperate struggle there was a lull in the
storm of battle, and Arthur said, in a low tone, as he stood
with his eye to the loop-hole,
" Is father badly wounded .'"
" I fear so. The blood was gushing from his mouth when
I saw him, and he — '
"I will take your place, my son, while you bid your fa-
ther good-by for evermore in this world," Mrs. Kilburne
said, in a voice half stifled with emotion, as she pushed
Ben gently aside.
His father was dying, and he could stop only for an in-
stant to receive a last pressure of the enfeebled hands!
When Ben returned he was heroically drying bis eyes,
that he might resume his duty as sentinel, and Mrs. Kil-
burne motioned Arthur to follow his brother's example.
"It is hard father should lie the one sacrificed," J!eu
said, huskily, to his mother, not able to glance toward her.
"But one bullet has found its .way into the building, so
Master Pike says, and that entered his body, instead of
mine."
•• It is not for us to repine, my sou. Remember that He
doeth all things well. I now look to you and Arthur for
protection, and you can best show your grief by doing as
your father would have yon do this day."
"I wish those, painted fiends would show themselves
again ; there is some little satisfaction iu shooting them
down."
'• Vengeance should not be iu your mind at this moment.
It is necessary to fight that our lives may be saved, but
only for such purpose. Revenge will not lessen the blow
or soothe your father's pain."
Then the wife was by her husband's side, and Arthur at
his station as watcher.
During the next ten minutes the sound of hatchets
against the logs of the stockade could be heard, and then
three of the heavy timbers fell inward.
" Now stand steady !" Pike shouted. " They will make' a
rush, expecting to overpower us by press of numbers, and
we must be prepared."
743
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
RUNNING OUT QUICKLY HE FILLED ONE BUCKKT.
The two boys ran to that side of the house which was
most sorely threatened, and had hardly gained new posi-
tions when the assault was made.
It was now a question of loading and discharging their
muskets as rapidly as possible, only delaying sufficiently
long to taUe careful aim, and when half an hour had passed
Ben heard, us if in a dream, Mrs. Pike say to her husband,
as she banded him a gun,
"John Kilburne is at rest!"
The boy bravely forced himself to forget, for the time
being, the sorrow which had come npou him ; and when the
conflict was hottest, a shrill cry of pain burst from John
Pike's lips as he swayed to and fro an instant, and then
fell backward to the floor dead.
"Yon and I must do the work of four now!" Arthur
cried, as if thinking his brother needed encouragement.
"Take cure of that fellow near your corner; once he is on
the other side of the house we shall be smoked out."
A musket-shot was the answer, and as the stifling cloud
in the dwelling was increased yet more, the danger pointed
out by Arthur had been dispelled.
Now Mrs. Kilburue was at one of the loop-holes, using
her husband's weapon with wonderful skill, and when the
enemy beat a hasty retreat, unable to face longer the dead-
ly hail poured upon them, she said to her brave sons:
"It may be possible we have driven them back."
"Not yet," Ben replied, gravely. "There are so many
that they will not abandon the attack now, but be the
more eager for our blood. How is the powder holding
out ?"
"Mrs. Pike was bringing another keg from the cellar
wheu her husband was killed. I have heard your father
say he had enough in the house to withstand a siege of a
week."
"Two of the oxen are dead," Arthur cried, as he looked
hastily through one of the apertures at the rear of the
house. " How did they get out of the barn ? I am certain
all the cattle were fastened in the stalls when neighbor
Pike came."
Ben rushed to his brother's side.
" Some of the Indians have gained shelter there !" he
cried, nervously. " Go back to mother, and I will watch
here."
He had hardly spoken when three savages were seen
coming cautiously out of the building, and again the dis-
charge of the muskets in the room prevented the besieged
from hearing any movement or words from each other.
It was an hour
past noon when
the defenders of
the "garrison" had
another opportu-
nity for rest, and
then, while the wo-
men watched, Ben
and Arthur cooled
the heated barrels
of the muskets
by pouring water
through them.
Before the work
had been com-
pleted the supply
of the precious li-
quid was exhaust-
ed, and without an
intimation to his
mother or brother
of what he was
about to do, Beu
unbarred the door.
Running out
quickly, he filled
one bucket, and
was in the act of
stepping upon the
threshold, when
the single report
of a gun was heard, and he staggered forward, his face
growing pale beneath the grime of powder.
Arthur had fastened the door again before he paid any
attention to his brother, and then with heavy heart he
stepped to the side of his mother, who was cutting oft' the
sleeve of the coat, which was red with blood.
" It is only a flesh-wound ; bind it up quickly, and I will
get to work again," Ben said, with an effort to speak cheer-
ily. "Thinking they have killed another of us, the savages
will make one more attempt to carry the house by storm."
It was as he had feared ; before the wound was properly
bandaged Arthur and Mrs. Pike were firing with the utmost
rapidity, and Ben joined them while the blood was yet run-
ning in a tiny stream down his side.
This time the enemy displayed more courage, and were
less eager to shelter themselves against the shower of bul-
lets. They ran directly up to the walls of the house, having
made their way through the break in the stockade, and not
until nearly sunset did the two boys and their mother have
an opportunity to cease from the struggle.
During this time Mrs. Pike and her sisters did their full
share of the work by cooling the spare guns, reloading the
weapons as rapidly as they were discharged, or darting
from one unprotected loop-hole to another to make certain
the savages were not adopting new tactics, and in a corner
of the room lay the lifeless bodies of the two victims.
The desperation with which the defenders of the house
had fought was shown by the bodies of the enemy strewn
between the stockade and the building.
Of the hundred and seventy which made the attack,
thirty-one had paid forfeit with their lives, or been so griev-
ously wounded as to be unable to regain shelter, and that
there were many more, beyond view of the defenders, who.
were wounded seemed probable.
The boys fully expected the most desperate hour would
come after the earth was wrapped in darkness, but in this
they were mistaken.
Vigilant watch was kept by all in the dwelling, but only
now and again could an Indian be seen, and then as he
was dragging away the bodies of his fellows
When the sun rose next morning no sign of the enemy
could be seen. The dead had been removed, and the song
of birds in the thicket told that no intruder was concealed
by the foliage.
The savages believed the " garrison " had more defenders
than they at first supposed, and had beat a retreat when
only two boys and four women were opposed against them.
744
OAKLEIGH.
15 Y EL LEX DOUGLAS DELAXD.
DO yo
Fra,
CHAPTER V.
you tbink they will really like me ?" asked Mrs.
•"ranklin for the hiindreiltli time, ami fur the huu-
drnltli time her husband answered, smiling, "J think they
really will."
They were just arriving at Brenton. Many inquiring
eyes had been turned towards them iu the train, for every
one knew John Franklin, and every one surmised at ouce
that this was the much-discussed second wife.
It was decided by those who saw her that she was a
very attractive-looking woman. She was rather slight and
of medium height, and she was quietly dressed in black,
for she was in mouriiiug. Though not actually pretty, she
had a charming and very expressive face, and she was very
young-looking. Somebody who sat in front of her said
that her voice*was low and very musical.
Brenton decided at the first glance that Mr. John Frank-
lin had done very well for himself.
•• There is the carriage," said he, as they crossed the sta-
tion platform.
•• And this is Jack, I am sure," said his wife, holding out
her hand with a smile which won her step-son on the spot.
He was too shy, lion ever, to do more than grasp it warmly
as lie stood beside her with uncovered head.
" He, is a dear," she said to herself, " and just like John.
If only the others are as cordial. Somehow I dread
Edith."
She was quite as ex-
cited as were her step-
daughters when she drove
up the avenue, and her
e\ es fell for the first time
upon the group on the pi-
azza.
Cynthia walked down
the path to meet her, hold-
ing Janet and Willy by
either hand. Edith re-
mained standing ou the
step.
" How do you do ?" said
Cynthia, with a cordial
smile.
Mrs. Franklin looked
at her. Then she put
her arms around her and
kissed her.
"This is Cynthia, I am
SUIT. "she whispered, trem-
ulously, "and these are
' the children.'"
She kissed them and
passed on to her hus-
band's eldest daughter,
while they greeted their
father.
Edith was very tall, aud
her position on the step
gave her the advantage
of several inches in addi-
tion. She fairly towered
above the new-comer.
" How do you do, Mrs.
Franklin?" she said, hold-
ing out a very stiff hand
and arm. She had made
np her mind that she for
one would not be kiss-
ed.
" And are you Edith ?"
" Yes, Mrs. Franklin. I
am Edith. I hope your
journey has not tired
you?"
" Not at all. I am not. easily tired."
Edith kissed her father, then turned again to the stranger.
" Let me show you the way upstairs."
And thus Mrs. Franklin entered her new home.
" I am afraid it is going to be war with Edith at lir.-t,
but 1 won't be disheartened," she thought. "I'll make
her like me. It is natural for her to feel so, I suppose.
Ah me, I am in a difficult position."
Edith and Cynthia shared the same room. It was a
large one with a bay-window, which commanded a fine
view of the winding river and the meadows beyond.
One could tell at a glance upon entering the room which
part of it Edith occupied, and which Cynthia. Cynthia's
dressing-table, with its ungainly pin-cushion, its tangle of
ribbons and neckties tossed down anywhere that they
might happen to fall, its medley of horseshoes, tennis
balls, aud other treasures, was a constant source of trial to
Edith, whose possessions were always kept in perfect neat-
ness. Sbe scolded and lectured her sister in vain ; Cyn-
thia was incorrigible.
"It's too much bother to keep things in order," she
would say. "After you have been around with your
<luster and vour • tixings-up I never can find a thing,
Edith."
The night of Mrs. Franklin's arrival they talked over the
new state of family affairs.
DON'T LIKE HEK, AND I WONT!"
745
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"I think she is nice,'' snid Cynthia, witli decision. "I
like her, and so does Jack."
She was perched on the side of the bed, leaning against
the tall post, her favorite position when she had anything
of especial interest to discuss.
" I don't," said Edith, who was brushing out her long
hair with great vigor. " I don't like her, and I won't ."'
"That is just it, Edith. You have made up your mind
you won't like her just because you didn't want her to
come. Now she is here, why don't you make the best of
it ? What do you dislike about her?"
"Her coming here. She had no right to."
"Edith, how silly yon are! She wouldn't have come if
papa had not asked her, and she wouldn't have if she had
not loved papa. I should think you would like her for
that if nothing else. I do. And she is pretty and sweet
and dear, and I am going to help her all I can. I think I
shall even call her ' mamma.' "
"Cynthia., I shall never do that. Never, to my dying
(lay !»
"Well, I shall ; that is, if she doesn't mind."
"She will. It will make her seem too old."
"I don't believe she would mind that, and any one can
see she isn't a bit old. I think we are very fortunate, as
long as papa was going to marry again, to have him tind
such a nice, lovely woman.
Edith did not reply. She finished her braid and tied it
up. Then she said :
"Of course, it is a great deal harder for me than for the
rest of you. I thought I was always going to help father,
and now 1 can't."
"Of course it's hard, Edith, but — but don't you think
you could still help him if — if you were nice to his wife?"
"I don't want to help him that way," said Edith, hon-
estly, as she blew out the light.
The next day when Cynthia asked somewhat timidly if
she might call her step -mother " mamma," she was sur-
prised and touched by the expression that came into Mrs.
Franklin's face.
"Oh, thank you, Cynthia!" she said. "I thought I
would not ask yon, I would just leave it to you, but I
should like it so much."
And so they all called her by her new title except Edith.
Preparations for the tennis tournament were in full
swing, and Cynthia and Jack, who were to play together
in mixed doubles, were practising hard.
The court at Oakleigh was not a good one, so they
were in the habit of going to the tennis club at the village
when they could get there in the afternoon. It was not
always easy, for they were short of horses, and it was too
far to walk both ways.
"Why do we not have some more horses?" said Mrs.
Franklin one morning when the question was being dis-
cussed.
"Why, we can't atford to," replied Cynthia, in some
surprise. " Besides the farm horses we only have two,
you know, and they get all used up going to and from
the village so much."
Mrs. Franklin glanced at her husband. Then she said,
"It seems as if we ought to have more. You know,
John, there is all that money of mine. Why not buy a
horse and trap for the children to use?"
"My dear Hester, I can never consent. You know I wish
you to keep all your money for your own exclusive use.
You may have all the horses you want for yourself, but —
"John, don't be absurd. What can I. do with all that
money, and no one but Neal to provide for? Your chil-
dren are mine now, and I wish them to have a horse of
their own."
The thing of all others for which Edith had been long-
ing for years. But she determined that she would never
use her step-mother's gift.
"Is Neal your brother?" asked Cynthia.
"Yes. Haven't I told you about him? He is my dear
and only brother. He is off on a yacht now, but hi- is
coming here soon. He is older than you and Jack, just
about Edith's age."
Jack looked up with interest.
"I'm glad there's another • fellow coming," he said.
"There are almost too many girls around here."
"Jack, how hateful of you, when you always have said
I was as good as another fellow!" exclaimed C'ynthia.
"Well, so you are, almost; but I'm glad he's coming,
anyway."
The new horse was bought, and a pretty and comfort-
able cart for them to use, a " surrey " that would hold two
or fiiur, as occasion required. At h'rst Edith would not
use it. She jogged about with the old horse and buggy
when she went to the village, thereby exciting much com-
ment among her friends. Every one suspected that Edith
could not reconcile herself to the coming of her step-
mother.
The day of the tournament arrived. Ho fore Mr. Frank-
lin went to Boston that morning he called Edith into the
library and closed the door.
" I have something to say to you, Edith. I have been
perfectly observant of your conduct since I came home,
though I have not spoken of it before. I preferred to
wait, to give you a chance to think better of it. Your
treatment of my wife is not only rude, it is unkind, as
rudeness always is."
" Father, I haven't been rude. Why do you speak to
me so? It is all her fault. She has made you do it."
" Hester has not mentioned the subject to me, Edith.
You are most unjust. You are making yourself very con-
spicuous, and are placing me in a very false light by your
behavior. Are you going to the tennis tournament to-day ?"
" Yes, papa."
"How do you intend to get there?"
"Drive myself in the buggy, of course."
"There is no 'of course' about it," said her father,
growing more and more angry. "If you go, you will go
as the others do, in the surrey. I will not have them go
down ATI th an empty seat, while you rattle in to the
grounds in the old buggy in the eyes of all Brentou."
"Then I won't go at all. The buggy was good enough
before ; why isn't it now ?"
"Not another word! I am ashamed of yon, Edith, and
disappointed. I have no time for more, but remember
what I have said. You go in the surrey to the tourna-
ment, or yon stay at home."
He left her and hurried off to the train. Edith went to
her own room and shut herself in. For more than an hour
a bitter fight raged within her. Her pride was up in arms.
If she gave up and drove to the club in the surrey, every
one would know that she was countenancing her step-
mother, as she expressed it, and she had told Gertrude
Morgan that she would never do it. If she staid at home
she would excite more comment still, for it was generally
known that she was to act as one of the hostesses, and she
had no reasonable excuse to offer for staying away.
Altogether Edith thought herself a much-abused person,
and she cried until her eyes were swollen, her cheeks pale,
and her nose red.
Cynthia burst in upon her.
"What is the matter, Edith? You look like a perfect
fright! Are you ill?"
"111! No, of course not. I wish you would leave me
in peace, Cynthia. What do you want?"
"To come into my own room, of course. But what is
the matter, Edith ? Was papa scolding you ?"
Edith, longing for sympathy, poured out the story, but
she did not receive much from that practical young person.
"I wouldn't cry my eyes out about that. Of course you
will have to do as papa says, or he won't like it at alL
And it is a thousand times nicer to drive in the surrey
than that old rattle-trap of 'a buggy. The surrey runs so
smoothly, and Boss goes like a breeze. You had better give
in gracefully, Edith. But see this lovely silver buckle and
belt mamma has just given me to wear this afternoon.
Isn't it perfect? She says she has more than she ran
wear. It was one of her own. / think she's a dear. But
there is Jack calling me to practise."
And happy-hearted Cynthia was off again like a flash.
Edith bathed her face and began to think better of the
subject. After all, she would go. It was a lovely day,
746
HARPER'S HOUND TABLE
every one would be there, and it was not worth while to
make people talk. Above all, she would be sorry to miss
the affair to which she had l>eeu looking' forward for weeks.
She dressed herself that afternoon in a simple gingham
that bad seen the wash-tub many times, and took her place
on the back seat of the surrey, with Mrs. Franklin, Jack
and Cynthia sitting in front. Mrs. Franklin was in the
daintiest of summer frocks, and Kdith glanced at her some-
what enviously.
"I wish we were the ones that had the money," she
thought, " and that she were poor. I believe then I should
not mind having her so much."
Mrs. Franklin had a gay and cheery disposition, and she
tried to pay no attention to Edith's coldness.
"I wish I were going to play myself," she said
"Why, do yon play?" asked Cynthia, in surprise.
"To be sure I do. I used to play a great deal at. one
time. I mean to ask your father to have the tennis-court
at Oakleigh made over, and then we can have some games
there."
"How jolly!" exclaimed Jack and Cynthia together.
"We cannot afford to,1' put in Kdith, coldly.
Mrs. Franklin paid n-o attention to this. "It will be
nice when Neal comes," she added.
"Neal, always Neal," .thought Edith. "Pleasant for us
to have a strange boy here all the time. Oh, dear, how
hateful I am! I don't feel nice towards anybody. If only
papa had never seen or heard of the Gordons, how much
happier we should all have been."
But she was the only one of the household that thought
so. The younger children had been completely won ovei',
and it was a constant source of surprise and chagrin to
Edith to see how easily their step-mother managed the'
hitherto refractory pair.
Before long the party reached the grounds. The Bren-
ton Tennis Club was a very attractive place. The smooth
and well-kept courts stretched away to the river, which
wound and curved towards the old town, for the club was
on the outskirts of the village. The river was wider here
than it was farther up at Oakleigh, and picturesque stone
bridges crossed it at intervals.
Benches had been placed all about the grounds, from
which the spectators conld watch the game, ami under a
marquee was a dainty table, with huge bowls of lemonade
and plates of cake. Edith presided at the tea-kettle, look-
ing very pretty, notwithstanding her old gown and the
stormy morning she had passed.
Mrs. Franklin, upon whom most of the Brentou people
had already called, sat on one of the benches with some
friends, and was soon absorbed in the game.
Cynthia played well. She Hew about the court, here,
there, everywhere at once, never interfering with her part-
ner's game, lint always ready with her own play. She and
Jack, though younger than the other players, held their
ground well.
It was only a small tournament, and "mixed doubles"
were finished np in one afternoon, Jack and Cynthia carry-
ing off second prizes with great glee.
"Just what I wanted, mamma," said Cynthia, as she dis-
played a line racket of the latest style and shape ; " I hope
they will have another tournament before the summer is
over, so that I'll have a chance to win first prize with this
new racket."
They were driving home in the dusk, for the game had
lasted late, when they overtook and passed a boy who was
walking on the road to Oakleigh, with a bag slung over his
shoulder on a stick, while a black spaniel trotted along at
his heels. Mrs. Franklin did not see him.
" I say there, Hessie! Can't you give a fellow a lift?"
he shouted.
"Why, Neal!" exclaimed Mrs. Franklin ; "where did you
come from? Jack, stop, please. It is Neal! Yon dear
boy, I am so glad to see yon ! This is my brother, children ;
and, Neal, here are Edith, Cynthia, and Jack Franklin."
"Whew, what a lot! I say, Hessie, what were you
thinking of when you married such a family as that? But
I fancy you haven't got room for me in there. I can walk
it easilv enough. Don't mind a bit."
"Nonsense! we can squeeze up," said his sister, which
they did forthwith, and Neal Gordon climbed into the
cart.
" No room for yon, Bob," he remarked to the spaniel, who
danced about the road in a vain endeavor to follow his
master; "yon can go ahead on your own legs."
He was a tall, well- developed fellow, with a hearty,
cheery voice, and a frank, sometimes embarrassing, way of
saying the first thing that came into his head.
" What a crowd!" he continued. "Any more at home *"
" Yes, two," said his sister, gayly — " Janet and Willy. I
am so glad you have come, Neal. But why didn't you let
us know ?"
"Couldn't. The Dulphin put in at Marblehead, and I
had gotten rather tired of it aboard, so I thought I'd cut
IOCIM' and drop down on yon awhile. Got out of cash too."
"Oh, Neal!"
"Now you needn't say anything. Yon didn't give me
half enough this time. Too much absorbed getting mar-
ried, 1 suppose. I say," he added, turning to Jack, "what
kind of a step-ma does Hessie make?"
"Bully," replied Jack, laconically.
"I thought she would, but she's on her best behavior
now. She'll order you all round soon, the way she does
me."
" They don't deserve it as you do, yon silly boy," said his
sister.
They were a merry party that night at supper. It
seemed as if Neal would be a great addition to the family,
anil even p'dith thawed somewhat. This pleased Mr.
Franklin, who had been thoroughly annoyed by her be-
havior, and who had been really afraid that she would
stay at home from the tournament rather than use his
wife's gilt.
" Everything will run smoothly now," he said to himself,
and, manlike, lie soon fin-got all about the trouble.
" By-the-way, what relation am I to this family f asked
Neal, presently. "If Hester is your mother, of course I
must be your uncle. I hope yon will all treat me with
proper respect."
"I hope we shall be able to," said Cynthia, looking up
with a saucy smile. She liked the new-comer immensely.
"Did you ever run an incubator;" asked Jack, after
supper.
"Not I. Have yon got one '!"
" Yes. Come along down and see it.'
They descended to the cellar, and Jack turned the eggs
while he explained his methods to his new friend.
"Is there money in it f" asked Neal.
"Lots, I hope. But the trouble is, you've got to spend
a lot to start with, and if you're not successful it's a dead
loss. My first hatch went to smash."
"How would yon like to take me into partnership? I
want to make some money."
" First-rate."
They were deep in a discussion of business arrangements
when they went back to the others.
"We'll make a 'go' of it," said Neal. "It's just the
thing I've been looking tor."
"I have an idea, Jack," said Mrs. Franklin, as they came
in. "When are the chickens to come out ?"
" Next Thursday."
"Then we will celebrate the event in proper style. We
will ask our friends to come to a ' hatching bee.' "
"But suppose they don't, hatch ? Suppose they act the
way they did before?" said Jack, dubiously.
"Oh, they'll hatch, I will answer for them. You have
learned how to take better care of them, and no one has
interfered, and — oh, I am sure they will be out in fine
shape !"
Only Edith objected to this proposition, and she dan il
not say so before her father.
Apparently the Gordons were going to carry all before
them, and she, who until so recently had been to all in-
tents and purposes the mistress of the house, was not even
asked if she approved of the idea. She went to bed feeling
that her lot was a very hard one.
| TO BE CONTINUED.]
747
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
WHEN ROYALTY TRAVELS.
BY WILLIAM IIEMMINGWAY.
TO live like a king is all very well, but to travel like
oue — may we all be delivered from such a fate! The
modern monarch Hits from his palace like the pheasant
from bis covert. True, the hunter may not pot him this
time, but the danger of being killed is very great, and the
king, like the golden-lined bird, knows that many
of his brothers have fallen before the destroyer,
who is constantly ou the alert. Pheasants may
be sliot only during certain weeks, but anarchists
never cease devising and trying new ways of king-
killing.
Whenever a monarch starts on a journey he is
haunted by the belief that the anarchists must
have found out all about it beforehand in their
usual way, and that they are busy with plots for
his destruction. Even Queen Victoria, that best-
beloved wearer of a crown, is bound to use
as many precautions as the Czar of Russi
common traveller
has so much to be
thankful for at the
end of a journey as a
safely arrived mon-
arch. It is much
pleasauter to be a
President of the
United States, pay
your own fare, and
feel afraid of nobody.
When the Queen
of Great Britain
starts for Windsor or
Balmoral, or on any
other railway jour-
ney, a time is chosen
that will cause the
least inconvenience
to traffic ; for the in-
variable rule is that
no other trains may
run over the road
the Queen is using.
AH the switches are
locked. Preceded and
followed by gallop-
ing troopers of the
Household Guard,
the Queen's carriage
is driven to the rail-
way station at a fu-
rious pace. No one
— I mean no ordinary
person — knows the
hour at. which she
vi ill start or the
streets through
which she will go.
The special royal
train is waiting at
the platform, and the
royal carriage goes
whirling toward it through the most unexpected streets.
Every loyal Briton loves to show his love for her Majesty
by a hearty roar, lint no one has a chance to cheer her on
her travels. There is a distant clatter of hoofs; it comes
nearer, and yon hear the rattling of sabres and whir of
wheels. A blur of redcoats and nodding pinnies shoots
past, and the hoof-beats are dying in the distance before
yon can say, " There goes the Queen."
Of course the royal coach goes at a sedate pace during
a royal progress or parade. Then there are more soldiers
along the streets than you or I could count, and the Queen
appears bowing in her open carriage of state, with all her
outriders and officers and guards and the burly English
footmen and Scotch gillies necessary tor display.
1
rr
JNUHfcf
<.
211
lltrn
'THERE OOES THE QUEEN."
When the Queen of Great Britain and Ireland and F.tn-
press of India travels she occupies her own special car.
A special locomotive is reserved for her. and it is run by a
special engineer, always the most experienced man in the
company's service. Ou the London and Southwestern
Railway, for example, engine No. 575 draws the Queen's
car. Thomas Higgs, a tine, keen-eyed old Briton, an en-
gineer for nearly forty years, holds the lever and the throt-
tle. It is his boast
that during this long
period of service not
oue of his millions
i of passengers has
ever been killed. Not
one even has been
injured. lie is more
careful than ever
when her Majesty is
aboard. Between
\Vindsor and Gos-
port alone there are
fifteen junctions,
and every one of
these is a possible
danger-spot. A pi-
lot train runs a short
distance in advance
of the Queen's spe-
cial to make sure
that the way is clear,
and that the track
has not beeu put out
of order.
The interior of
the Queen's car is
furnished after the
fashion of the white drawing-room at
Windsor Castle. There are white silk
cushions, embroidered with the initials
V.R. ( f'ictoria Keginn), and the Garter
and its motto, all in gold thread. The
carpet is of velvet. The curtains at the
windows are hung on silver poles, and
the door-handles are plated with- gold. The
Queen's own comfortable arm-chair is at the
rear of the saloon and faces the engiue, and
there are three other arm-chairs. The
walls of the car (Englishmen call it a "car-
riage") are of polished satin -wood. The
whole car cost about $35,000. The Queen and
her suite are furnished with special time-ta-
bles printed in purple ink on white satin,
adorned with the royal arms and an em-
bossed border of gold. In winter the car is
heated with hot-water pipes, and in summer
it is cooled by an extra rooting of wet
cloths, which are frequently soaked with
very cold water, and by blocks of ice placed
in the interior of the car.
If by auy chance the railroad journey in-
cludes a night of travel, her Majesty .sleeps
in her own bed in her car. The Prince of
Wales has a private car too, but he often
travels in an ordinary first -class coach.
Whenever it becomes known — such things will leak out
at times — that the Queen or the Prince is travelling over
the line, great crowds gather at the stations and hurl
cheer after cheer at the royal train. This is much nicer
than the Russian style of hurling something explosive.
The King and Queen of 1'ortugal have a train of three
special cars that were built for them in France upon
American plans. This shows what wide-awake, intelligent
persons the King and Queen of Portugal are. They are
not particularly afraid of dynamiters or any other kind
of assassins, and although poor — among kings — they man-
age to have a fairly good time on wheels.
In planning the royal train King Charles of Portugal
went so far in his Americanism as to demand vestibuled
748
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
platforms. Of course, any one may ride in a vestibuled
train in our country by simply paying a few dollars, but
in Europe it talies a king of strong will power to obtain
such luxury.
The royal train of Portugal consists of a dining-car, a
car fur the royal ministers, etc., and the car especially re-
served for the King and Qut-eu. All three are of the size
and general appearance of high-class American cars. Out-
side their color is a dark rich green, relieved with tracings
of gold and red. The escutcheon of the royal arms of Por-
tugal is painted iu the middle of each side. The dimug-
car is fitted up in the style of Louis XV. The table can
be folded and put away when not in use. The interior or-
namentation of carved oak, amaranth, citron-wood, etc., is
very rich iudeed. Next to the dining-room is the smoking
salon, where the King, or even Queen Amelia, may relieve
the monotony of travel with a cigarette.
There are four sleeping-rooms in the royal car besides
rooms for the attendants. The most remarkable thing
about this car is the dais and divan at one end of the salon.
No one may sit on this raised divan but the King or the
Queen. A drapery of silk velvet forms the background.
Above the back of the divan the royal arms are carved.
Probably it diverts bis Majesty's mind to sit here on high
now and then while journeying and call his ministers
showed himself a brave man by going to the aid of the
wounded as soon as he could climb out of the wreck. All
the ears iii the train were of wood.
The new train of 1H89 was made of wood too, but the ears
were armored. The outside of each car was of heavy iron,
in.-iile of which was a layer of eight inches of cork. All of
the four ears in the tiain were exactly alike outwardly, so
that ;i nihilist would find it hard to pick out the Czar's car
should he by any accident get within shooting distance.
When the Czar travelled he often spent his time in a car
that was so built and painted as to look like a baggage-car
from the outside. When the Czar visited Emperor Wil-
liam III., at Berlin, iu October, 1889, six Russian \\orknicn
put gratings of wrought-iron at the tops and bottoms of
all the chimneys of the old Schloss and palace at Potsdam,
which the Czar occupied. This was to keep out nihilists'
bombs. Armed sentries patrolled the roofs. When the
Czar started for home all the railroad bridges, as well as
t he st reels of Berlin, Marieuburg, and Dantzic, were guard-
ed by soldiers, policemen, and detective's. Not until after
the Czar left Dautzic was it known whether he had pro-
ceeded by train or on the imperial yacht Dcrjara. When
the train started for the border 50,000 Russian troops wen-
placed on guard along the railroad tracks. Every journey
the unhappy ruler made was attended by similar precautions.
When Fraucais Felix Fa lire, the newly
elected President of the French Republic,,
made his first railroad journey alter elec-
tion, he found that being a mere President
is almost as unpleasant us playing king.
For fear of anarchists a strong force of sol-
diers and tour sappers and
miners guarded each of the
railway bridges and giade
crossings between Versailles,
and Paris. Extra policemen
and a little army of live
hundred detectives watched
the palace in which the
around him and ask
them questions and
make wise comments,
as Kings always do —
in certain books.
Downright worry
drove Czar Alexander
III. of Russia to his
death. Taller and
stronger than any
of his subjects, not
one of whom could
cope with him in
wrestling, this im-
perial giant was actually tormented into his grave by fears
of nihilistic plots to destroy him. Nowhere was this fear
greater than when on railroad journeys. Again and again
Alexander abandoned long trips at the last moment because
the nihilists had learned his plans, and there was reason to
believe that they had dug mines under the railroad track
and were ready to blow him and his train to fragments.
His sou has not been on the throne long enough, the nihil-
ists say, for them to decide whether or not they shall try to
kill him.
Alexander's train was a fort on wheels. It was built in
1889, two years after a terrible underground explosion
of dynamite, which wrecked the Czar's train at liorki. when
he was on his way from the Crimea to St. Petersburg with
the Empress and their family. In that accident twenty-
one persons were killed and thirty-six were wounded, but
not one of the imperial family was injured. The Czar
THE FKENCII PRESIDENT ON THE WAY FROM VERSAILLES.
National Assembly sat. A strong battalion of lancers anil
more foot soldiers than yon could count escorted the new
President to the special train in waiting at Versailles at 8
o'clock on Friday morning, January ISHi. Fortunately
no anarchist got a sliot at the President as he was whirled
along, but as he emerged from the St. Lazare railway sta-
tion in Paris voices in the crowd yelled at him, "!)O\MI
with the check-takers!" — a pointed hint that M.Faure was
implicated in the Panama Canal scandal.
A CORRECTION.
"I'VE dot two Mower Gciose~."
Said Mollie. "If you please."
Said Johnny, "Don't say Gooses,
Because it's Mother Geese."
749
DR. RAINSFORD'S ADVICE TO BOYS.
WHEN we were boys we did things without thinking;
much about them. Boys do not generally think
much ; yet I think even when I was a boy I foiuul myself
sometimes wondering why it was so hard to do the things
I wanted to do well. It was ever so much Larder, of course,
to do well the things that one did not specially want to
<lo. I want to talk to you a little about the reason that
lies back of this difficulty of doing things well.
When I was thirteen my father gave me a gun. That
birthday loug ago is one of the very reddest of red-letter
{lays in iny life. I have had many a good time since; but
none of these good times, I think, have quite come up to
that hour, so full of astonishment and delight, when I saw
the very tiling I had beeii longing for and dreaming
about so long — saw the soft-looking brown barrels lying
snugly against the green-baize lining of the case, and felt
the ring of the lock under my lingers as I drew the ham-
mers of my own gun back. (Those were the days of muz-
zle-loaders, boys.) But when I liad got that gun — the de-
sire of my eyes, the pride of my life — it was, oh, how long,
before I could hit things flying with it. On Saturday
half-holidays (we had only one half a holiday a week when
I was .at school), I used to practise steadily. All my sav-
ings went to shot, powder, and wads. I almost lost the
desire for candy with its disuse. I even turned my back
on the pond where we used to fish for roach. I had seen
my father kill birds flying, one with each barrel, anil there
was neither rest nor satisfaction for me till I could ilo the
same. I think I took to shooting naturally; yet how long
it was, and how hard I had to work, before I learned to
shoot steadily and well.
It was the same story over again when I had grown older
and gone to college. There I determined to row. If ever
you are in old Eugliind in May, go, if you can, to Oxford or
Cambridge, if it is only to see the college races. The river-
banks then are green, so green, and the hedges and trees
are one waving nosegay. The big buttercups grow in
yellow bunches by the brink. Where the meadows slope
down to the stream crowds of gayly dressed people are
.standing, for the sisters and friends of every college lad
have come up to see the sight. This is on one side of the
river; on the other stretches the towing-path, and along it
surge a mighty throng of " men " clad in all the colors of
the rainbow, wild with excitement, shouting themselves
hoarse. They are out to see their college crew row. And
what a sight, those crews are! Round the bend, here they
come at last, the eight-oar crews, the men's bodies swinging
like pendulums, the eight pair of hands dropping at the end
of each stroke as one, and then shooting out altogether.
With a sweep and a swish they dash by, and the rushes of
college color struggle to keep up with them. Ah, the very
memory of it makes me thrill still ! When first I saw their
ease and splendid strength, how simple it looked. Surely,
any fairly strong mini could make those broad-bladed oars
tome swishing through, leaving behind them, well below
the surface, a clear track of white water. So it seemed to
me, and I determined there and then, that first May morn-
ing, I too would row. But I tell yon it costs something
to sit in a good eight-oar. Long months of hard work,
obedience to orders, and patient drudgery have to be under-
gone before the broad-bladed oar comes swishing through
as I have tried to describe it. Your hack aches, yonr wrists
feel limp as wet strings, and your chest is absolutely burst-
ing, and yet you do not seem to be able to put one good
stroke in ; the boat slips away from you all the time. So
for weeks anil months runs your daily experience. But
when the rudiments of rowing are mastered at last, when
patient attention and hard exercise have made yon strong,
and taught you when and where to use your strength, then
comes the reward. And whatever delightful experiences
life may have in store for yon. few indeed of them can sur-
pass the exhilaration, the sense of triumphant power, that
none know, perhaps, so well as those who have rowed on a
first-class eight-oar crew.
Do you see what I am driving at? I have been talking
of our pleasures, the things we want to do and choose to do.
These, I say, cost us trouble, and a great deal of care and
painstaking. If any boy thinks he can command success,
even in his sports, without putting into them all the will
and all the brains, as well as all the brawn, he has as his
own, he must soon find himself left out in the cold. At
best he can only be a second-rate. Now this law of life,
namely, that you must work hard to succeed in anything,
does not apply to us, who are lords of creation, alone. One
of the most wonderful things about our world is that the
rules of the game of life are obeyed by the smallest atom
that lives as well as by " king mail " himself. If any liv-
ing thing neglects or disobeys those rules, that disobedient
being, whether it be common or low, suffers for its disobe-
dience. If it obeys those rules, it grows stronger by obe-
dience, and increases and develops its own power.
Let me tell yon one or two instances of obedience by the
creatures round us to these hard rules of life.
Have yon ever seen a little salmon? A dainty, plucky
little fellow he is. It takes him two years to grow from
the egg to yonr finger's length. These two years of baby-
hood are spent in the quiet waters of his river home. By
the time the second summer is passed he is about five inches
long, golden-sided, with bright crimson spots, and weighs
perhaps two ounces. Then he starts on his first great
journey to waters unknown. No one knows where he goes,
what lonely places he visits, where in the great sea the lit-
tle adventurer makes his winter home. Certainly the
Arctic Ocean is not too cold for him, for the waters of the
far Mackenzie, emptying themselves into the polar sea,
swarm with salmon ; but wherever the little fellow does
winter, the climate, food, and life must agree with him
amazingly. He goes seaward in August. Next summtr
he is back in the same old river; and not only that, but in
the very pool in it where he was hatched out. He is the
same, but not the same; for now he weighs from three to
five pounds. In the river it took him two years to grow
five inches and weigh two ounces. In those six months of
sea life he has gained at least twenty-four times his own
weight. There is a reward for you! He felt lie ought to
go away and fight it out in the great sea He went, he
fought, he won, and now he revisits the old river a very
different fish indeed. There is no longer any reason why
he need lurk behind stones and dash aside to avoid the rush
of the voracious trout. The very trout that once tried to
gobble him must move out of the way, for he is almost a
salmon. What has made him the strong beautiful fish he
is ? One thing, and one only — the struggle with the deep
sea, and all the deep sea means. If he had been content
to stay behind his fellows in the warm clear river he
would be scarcely any bigger than he was last fall. His
red spots would not be quite so bright, nor he himself so
vigorous. Nature whispered to him to go forth and strive
and grow, and since he obeyed her, and did his best, she kept
her word with him.
Have yon ever tried to crawl up on a bunch of wild
ducks, or sat behind a bliud while yonr wooden decoys
were spread on the water all around you? If you have
done either, I know yon will agree with me when I say the
wild duck is a very smart fellow indeed. His eye is keen,
he is full of sense, and very hard to fool. Now his cousin,
the tame duck, is next door to an idiot. He cannot hide
himself or protect himself in any way. Strangely enough,
too, while the wild duck finds one wife and one family
quite all be can attend to, the big, hulking tame duck is a
regular Mormon, and prefers a dozen wives, and neglects
his children sadly. It is not hard to guess why these two
birds are so different. The tame duck is only a wild duck
domesticated, that is, put in such a position that he could
not continue to live the natural sort of life that was best
for him, the life of continuous struggle. He is, in short,
a degenerate wild duck; his wings are not so broad or so
strong, the muscles of his breast have grown puny anil
shrunken; he does not even want to fly far north in spring
or far south in winter. He is content with his farm-yard
and puddle. He has stopped trying, and so has stopped
growing too.
750
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
One more instance I will give you, boys, of Ilie impor-
tant place this law of struggle plays in the lives of tin- very
beasts. I was visiting some time ago the museum in <>ne
of our universities. One of the professors was with ine,
and wt; came to a case full of plaster casts of brains, the
brains of animals. While looking at these you could, of
course, easily compare their size and character, and form
some opinion of the intelligence of the animal itself. The
professor pointed out to me one very interesting brain cast.
It was taken from the head of a rhinoceros that had lived
very long ago — lived at the same time as mammoths and
other antiquated animals. It was quite a large and well-
developed brain. We nest went to another case and took
out the cast of a common rhinoceros, such a one as lived
iu our own times, and it was very evident that the present-
day rhino was not nearly so large or intelligent- as his pro-
genitor of long ago. This seemed at first very strange; for
why should the rhino's brain have degenerated while they
are still struggling forward in the march of life? The an-
swer is to be found in the sort of battle they have to light.
When the antediluvian rhino lived, the world was peopled
with terrible monsters, brutes of great strength and sav-
agery. With these he had no easy time of it He had to
match himself against them. Great strength alone was not
enough ; he needed cuuuing as well. Struggle he must,
and struggle hard or go under; and he survived because
he did struggle hard and did not go under. When, how-
ever, most of the monstrous forms of life had gradually
passed away, the rhinoceros had no enemy he stood much
iu dread of. The milder animals of a later day get out of
his way. There is nothing to be gained by contending
with him. He needs no longer to strive ; life comes easily,
and food is plenty. Thus it is that a perpetually "good
time " resulted in weakening his head and lowering his in-
telligence. He is, indeed, the degenerate descendant of a
noble parent.
So, boys, wherever we look, the same result is taught us.
The very beasts of the field can only hold their own by do-
ing their best. We, their kings and lords, must put our
right hand to the work, too. We can only live our best
life, develop our true self, by striving. The tallest and
strongest trees are what they are because they have over-
come the mighty force of gravitation that seeks to drag
down and hold down to the earth every particle of matter
within them. Life, even in the tree, means something
that iirci-fiimcK, rises above a force that holds it down ; ami
yet only holds it down that its most beautiful and best na-
ture may be developed to the full. So it is with us men.
The brave man is not he who never felt fear. If a man is
intelligent he must, under fearful circumstances, feel fear;
bnthe who, feeling fear, overcomes his feeling and stands
unmoved, or does in spite of danger the right and brave thing
this man has true courage, this man is the real hero. Yon
may have heard the story of the officer who, when the can-
non balls began to cut down files of his men, stood all trem-
bling in front of the regiment. It looked as though he was
terribly afraid. His knees were shaking under him, and
his face was set and white. Some one standing near heard
him talking to himself, heard him say, as he looked down
at his trembling legs, "If yon only knew where I was go-
ing to take yon, you would give way altogether." That, I
take it, is true courage. On the walls of a great school-
room in one of the largest public schools in England is
written this motto — and yon cannot timl a better:
" So near is glory to our dust,
So near is God to man ;
When Duty whispers, 'Lo, thou must!'
The youth replies, 'I can.'"
W. S. RAINSFOKD.
my
BOBBY'S GARDI5N.
BOBBY. "I have just finished digging and rakin;
garden, and now I want five cents."
MAMMA. " What, "five cents for making your garden '!"
BOBBY. " No, mamma, not for making the garden, but to
buy a package of succotash seed."
Th:s Depnrtme
h* flensed to an
address Editor O
r.,1 tin
•sj.ii.ni
T
onducted in the interest nf ^mnteni Photnera
my quest!.. I Ihe gnlijr, t K l:.i n, |™,.sil,),,
Cliil. D .|.!irlin..nr
PAPERS FOR BEGIXXKKS, Xo. 8.
OVER-EXPOSED PLATES, AND HOW TO TREAT THEM.
HE process of developing a negative would be very
easily and quickly mastered if the exposure of the sen-
sitive plates were always timed exactly right. Correct
exposure, however, is the exception rather than the rule of
amateur photography. To get good negatives, therefore,
the amateur must learn to distinguish between a correct
and incorrect exposure of the plate, and how to treat it, if
incorrectly exposed, in order to preserve the image which
is impressed on it.
Over-exposure is the most common fault of the beginner
in photography. A properly exposed plate grows into a
negative step by step, until the whole image, with all
its delicate gradations of lights and shadows, is fully de-
veloped. An over-exposed plate acts in a very different
manner. When placed iu the developer, instead of the
high lights first appearing and the objects coming out
gradually, the whole image comes out almost at once —
"flashes up" is the technical and really appropriate term.
If the plate is left in the developer, the image will fade
away almost as quickly as it came out, and the result will
be a thin negative, from which satisfactory prints cannot
be made.
TREATMENT.
As soon as the image Hashes up, showing that the plate
has been over-exposed, take it from the developer and
place it in a dish of clean water to stop development.
Turn the developer from the tray and rinse the tray. Mix
up a weak solution of developer, or dilute this same devel-
oper one-third with water. Add to this weak developer a
few drops of a solution of bromide of potassium, prepared
with a quarter of an ounce of bromide of potassium and
five ounces of water. This solution should be mixed and
kept- always ready for use. Label the bottle "Restrainer.'r
The bromide is called a restrainer, as it makes the develop-
ment of the image proceed more slowly.
Put the plate back in the tray, and turn the developer,
to which the bromide has been added, over it, rocking the
plate gently. Watch the development closely, and if the
ima^e still comes up too fast add a. iew more drops of
bromide. Unless the. plate has been very much over-
exposed, by taking it from the developer and using the re-
strainer carefully, a good negative can usually be obtained.
If the plate has been too much over-exposed, there is no
way of saving it.
If one knows or thinks that a plate has been over-ex-
posed, the plate should not be put in a normal developer —
that is, a developer which would he used for a correctly
exposed plate — but it, should be put into the weak devel-
oper to which bromide has been added.
Some amateurs, in developing, have three trays of devel-
oper. The first tray contains normal developer, the secoud
tray contains developer prepared for over-exposed plates,
and the third for under-exposed plates.
If a plate is found to be under or over exposed, it is
washed and removed to the tray containing the proper
solution. This is a very good plan if one has a quantity
of plates to develop which have been exposed at different
times and under different circumstances, as it saves prepar-
ing fresh developer after development has been started.
Sn: KMOMT FT.ANK KANB asks what is meant by a flat negative. A
flat <>i thin negative is one which has been over-exposed, and not suffi-
ciently developed to give the uccvRsury density, so that the light passes
through all parts qnicklv, and gives a flat picture, wanting in contrast.
The next number ot the Romp TAUI.E will give methods for strengthen-
ing or redeveloping thin negatives.
7ol
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE RAINBOW* TABLE.
A RAINBOW TEA.
BY MARY J. S AFFORD.
SUGGESTIONS for pretty effects at church fairs are al-
ways in order, and one which I attended recently was
so attractive in its arrangements, and so well carried out
in every detail, that a description may be of service to
those who are planning a sale.
Even the tirkrls were in harmony with the remainder
of the decoration. They bore diagonally across the centre,
the upper left-hand and the lower right-hand corners, a
rainbow, while the lettering ran :
RAINBOW TEA.
IN All) <M<'
Tin'.. -
Admission, '25 cents.
Entering the room one saw directly opposite to the door
the seven tables, each representing one of the colors of the
rainbow. All were the same length and width, covered
with the pretty, inexpensive crepe cloth, and bordered with
a frill of crepe-paper the same shade. From the end of
each table ran a width of the crepe cloth, through whose
centre was a strip of satin ribbon the same shade about
four inches wide. These extended to a small square table
and fastened on the top. This table was placed midway
between the red and the violet oue, which stood on the
same line, perhaps six feet apart, the other five tables being
set between in the order of the colors of the rainbow, the
green at right angles with the red and the violet, and the
remainder slanting. The effect of the semicircle was ex-
tremely pretty, and it also afforded room for attendants and
buyers to gather around the lower ends of the respective
tables.
The central ornament of each was a banquet-lamp, cor-
responding in color with the table on which it stood ; that
on the red one had a red porcelain vase in an iron stand,
with a red shade; the green lamp had a greeu pillar and
green shade ; the yellow table bore a brass lamp, etc.
The red, orange, and violet tables contained a bewilder-
ing variety of articles for sale, and it was an interesting
study to note the ingenuity with which the respective
colors had been introduced into the fancy -work, painted
china, etc., displayed to tempt purchasers.
On the orange table, for
instance, were small gilded
straw baskets, filled with
delicious home - made mo-
lasses candies, tiny emery-
cases covered with brown
velvet, and surrounded by
petals cut from deep yel-
low cloth, perfectly repre-
senting the dnisylike flow-
er known as " Mack-eyed
Susan," sunflower penwip-
ers, handkerchief- cases,
made by folding an em-
broidered handkerchief
over a square of yellow
perfumed silk, the four cor-
ners meeting in the centre,
laundry -bags, embroidered
with yellow silk, sachet-
cases with yellow butter-
cups strewn over them,
teacups decorated with
gold, etc.
The red table bore sim-
ilar testimony to the clev-
erness of those who had
supplied its wants, while
the violet one was a mar-
vel of daintiness and sug-
gestion of spring-time love-
liness. The banquet-lamp
had a silver stand and shade of violet silk and white lace ;
near it was a sofa cushion of sheer white linen lawn em-
broidered with violets, and surrounded by a wide insertion
of lace, finished with a ruffle edged with lace. Beside this
was a little bag, of white silk, with a pattern of lilac sweet-
pease, in the bottom of which a needle-book was inserted,
and not far off lay a table-centre embroidered with violets.
The yellow table was tempting, with a large glass bowl
filled with lemonade, served with a variety of yellow cakes.
The green one dispensed ice-cream. The blue, besides tea,
sold pretty blne-and-white china cups and saucers, tied to-
gether with blue ribbon; and the indigo one was sought
by lovers of chocolate.
The attendants at each table wore its colors. And an-
other pretty feature of the occasion was a largo pine-tree,
standing in one corner of the hall, from whose branches
hung oranges made of yellow paper, each oue containing
some prize for the purchaser.
QUEER MONEY.
HERE is an amusing account of a traveller who went
many years ago to Mexico, and found the natives
using a strange kind of currency. Says he :
" In one of the small towns I bought some limes, and
gave the girl oue dollar in payment. By way of change,
she returned me forty-nine pieces of soap the size of a small
biscuit. I looked at her in astonishment, and she returned
my look with equal surprise, when a police officer, who bad
witnessed the incident, hastened to inform me that for
small sums soap was legal tender in many portions of the
country.
" I examined my change, and found that each cake
was stamped with the name of a town and of a manufacture
authorized by the government. The cakes of soap were
worth three farthings each. Afterwards, in my travel, I
frequently received similar change. Many of the cakes
showed signs of having been in the wash-tub ; but that I
discovered was not at all uncommon. Provided the stamp
was not obliterated, the soap did not lose any value as cur-
rency. Occasionally a man would borrow a cake of a
friend, wash his hands, and return it with thanks. I made
use of iny pieces more than ouce iu my bath, and subse-
quently spent them."
752
INTERSCHOEASTIQ1
IN LOOKING OVER THE PROGRAMMES of the different scho-
lastic athletic associations, I find that the Connecticut
High-School A. A. is about the only one which has the same
list of events as that approved by the I.C. A.A.A. It also
uses the same system of scoriug — 5, 2, and 1 — whereas most
of the other interscholastic associations award three points
to the winner of second place. This, however, is a differ-
ent question, and one that I hope to treat of later. One thing
at a time; and if we can get the card straightened out by
next spring I shall be satisfied. If I can persuade all the
executive committees to adopt the list of events in use by
the colleges I shall consider that this Department has done
some good, ami has accomplished at least one valuable thing
in its own sphere of usefulness. I am optimistic enough
to believe that a year from now every association will have
adopted the uniform schedule.
THE CONNECTICUT ASSOCIATION at one time had the
standing high and broad jumps as well as the running
high kick on their card ; but when Yale offered a silver cup
for competition among the schools in 1891, one of the con-
ditions attached to the gift was that the programme must
be made to correspond with the inter-collegiate schedule.
To the. New Haven college, -therefore, is largely due the
credit for the Connecticut H. -S. A. A. 's present emancipation
from acrobatics. The events on their card, like those of the
I.C.A.A.A., comprise the 100 and 220-yard dashes ; the quar-
ter, tho half, and the mile runs; the mile walk; the 120-
yard hurdle race over 3 ft. 6 in. hurdles, and the 220-yard
hurdle race over 2 ft. 6 in. hurdles ; the 2-mile bicycle race ;
the polo vault; the running high and broad jumps; the
shot and hammer, both of sixteen pounds.
IT is ONLY NATURAL that a university or college associ-
ation which takes an active interest in the sports of its
preparatory schools should wish to have the athletes who
are making ready to enter its ranks familiar with the events
on the inter-collegiate card. We all know very well that,
no matter how great the college-man's interest may be in
sport, as such, he is not going to waste his time and money
and energy in training and encouraging young men who
do not expect to go to college, or who practise high kick-
ing and standing jumps, or other feats of which he takes
no notice. He very justly argues that there are enough
young athletes in the country, who want to do what he
does, for him to give all his attention to them. Therefore
if school associations want the colleges to take a lively
interest in their efforts, to send them trainers, and to offer
them cups, I would advise them to work along the lines
that college athletes have found most suitable for their
purposes, and to let other matters alone. No one to whom
I have spoken of this matter so far has disagreed with me.
If any readers of this Department have any arguments for
the other side, I am sure we shall all be glad to hear them.
A VERY GOOD EXAMPLE of what might justly be called a
" freak " programme is that of the Iowa State High-School
Athletic Association. Their field day was held at Mnsca-
tiue on May 25th last, and I insert a table showing the re-
sults of the games more as an interesting curiosity than as
a valuable contribution toward athletic records. Of the
seventeen events on the card, only nine appear on the I.C.
A.A.A. schedule, and one of these — the 12-lb. shot — ought
to be left out. If the hurdles are undersized, then the
lowaus have really only six numbers on their list that
would admit them to competition with the Interscholastic
Association of the United States, which we hope to see in
full-fledged running order next spring. Iowa has a claim
to recognition in .athletics, her university having sent to
the Mott Haven games this year the fastest sprinter that
has entered for many a year. Let me therefore urge the
younger athletes to train themselves for events that they
can achieve renown in rather than to waste their lime
in high kicking. Crum would have received scant atten-
tion at Mott Haven even if he could have hopped, stepped,
and jumped from one end of the Oval to the other.
FOUR SCHOOLS WERE REPRESENTED on the Fair Grounds
at Mnscatiue, and Clinton H.-S. took the cup with 50
points. The Clinton team consisted of fourteen boys only,
and as they have trained themselves without any assist-
ance from older athletes, their performances are creditable.
While it is true that none of them as yet threaten the In-
terscholastic records, it must be remembered that our East-
ern schools have been in athletics many years longer than
the lowaus, and enjoy far greater advantages from trainers
and coaches than can be had in the West. In a very few
years, however, matters will no longer be thus, and I con-
fidently look to see several of these records held beyond the
Mississippi. My young friends on the Pacific coast are
going to raise a few of the marks too. Look out for them !:
IF THE PLAN NOW PROPOSED in the middle West can be
carried out, we shall see next year an Interscholastic Asso-
ciation composed of the principal schools of Iowa, Illinois,
Wisconsin, and Minnesota. This organization will be a
powerful one, and its meetings, where the entries will be
restricted to the firsts and seconds of the State contests,
ought to be productive of good records. Such competition
cannot fail to elevate sport in that section, and then the
East will have to look to its laurels.
CLINTON HIGH-SCHOOL TRACK-ATHLETIC TICAM.
Champions of the Iowa State High-School Athletic Association.
AT A MEETING OF THE SCHOOLS represented in the Senior
and Junior football leagues, held in Boston early last May,
some good changes were made in the manner of running
things, and several excellent rules were adopted. The con-
stitution now governs both leagues, which are united un-
der the single title of " The Interscholastic Football Asso-
ciation " — of New England, I suppose. Henceforth the pres-
ident of the association will practically be elected by goals
and touch-downs, because the office goes to the Captain of
the winning eleven of the Senior League. The vice-presi-
dent is similarly chosen, the office going to the Captain of
the champion team of the Junior League. There are to be-
753
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
IOWA STATE HIGH-SCHOOL ATHLETIC ASSOCIATION GAMES, MUSCATINE, MAY 25, 1895.
Event.
Winner— 5 points.
Performance.
Id — 3 points.
3d — 1 point.
Points Made.
5 3-5 sec.
Holbrook T
Clinton 50
Holbrook T
11 *
Month I C
Dean M
Holbrook, T.
20 1-3 '
H<>rshurgh, T
Alnsriitiiie .... 30
Morlaiid T
5 m 18 '
Half-mile bicycle
Cole, C.
1 " 16 '
Kiirss, L C.
Mahiu, M.
Total Tsi
Ilali-inih' nui
Demorest, M.
4 " 12 '
Swisber. I. C.
Reed, T.
Mmhuitl, T.
lliilhrimk T
284-5 '
Conger C
55 2-5 '
Hertz, I. C.
Holbrook T
244-5 '
Dean M
7 ft. 6 i i.
Lcefers T
5 * 3 *
Booth I C
Running Imp, step, and jump
Booth, I. C.
39 ' 3 '
314 '
Freeman, I. C.
Conger C
Hortoii, M.
Dean M.
Keister, C.
38 ' 3 '
11. .hues, C.
Hnlbruok T
9 ' 93-4'
Ilolhrook T
9 ' 3 *
Booth, I C
Tipton, T. Clinton, C, Masculine, M. Iowa City, I. C.
graduates on the executive committee, which is perfectly
proper, but that these should he chosen from one college
alone is tinwise aud unfair. The ne\v scheme is to have
the executive committee consist of the Captain of tht> Har-
vard football team, three undergraduates of the schools in
the league, -with the president ex officlo,anA two graduates
of Harvard.
THE OBJECTION I MAKE to this arrangement is that it is
hardly right to look upon the IntiTscholastic Football As-
sociation as a feeder for Harvard alone. It is probably
true that Harvard has done more for football in the Boston
schools than has any other college, and even inure than any
other college ever will do; but still men do go from Boston
schools to other places than Cambridge, and these men
might feel that there is a little too much crimson ink on
those regulations. It would be better to have it set down
in the constitution that certain members of the committee
shall be graduates of the schools that are members of the
leagues (college graduates, too, if you like, and even ex-
members of 'varsity teams, if practical football knowledge
is wanted), but let the eligibility to committee membership
depend upon the candidate's school relations rather than
upon his college, connection. It might happen'some year,
or for srvrral years in succession, that the football men of
the Boston schools would go to Tufts College or to the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Then both those
institutions would feel that their interest in the welfare of
the Interseholastic League entitled them to an eye in its
supervision. I remember that in 1888, the year the Inter-
scholastic League was formed by Harvard to train players
for the Cambridge eleven, several of the best players of one
of the strongest teams went to Yale.
THE TEAMS ix THE SENIOR LEAGUE are now limited to
six, and before the series of games begins in the fall each
school must hand in its list of players for the year. It is also
required that each player shall have at least twelve hours
a week at his school, aud be uot over twenty-one years of
age. The Seniors get considerable advantage over the
Juniors in the matter of voting, they being allowed two
votes to the hatter's single ballot.
IT is ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE to avoid typographical errors,
especially in matter consisting largely of numerals, like the
tabulated records so frequently printed in this Department.
I remember once of a publisher in London who made up
his mind to publish a book that should have no typograph-
ical errors whatever. He had his proofs corrected by his
own proof-readers, until they all assured him that there
were uo longer any errors in the text. Then he sent proofs
to the universities aud to other publishing houses offering
a prize of several pounds sterling in cash for every typo-
graphical mistake that could be found. Hundreds of proofs
were sent out in this way, and many skilled proof-readers
examined the pages in the hope of earning a prize. A few
errors were discovered. Then all the proof-sheets having
been heard from, the publisher felt assured that his book
would appear before the public an absolutely perfect piece
of composition. He had the plates cast, the edition print-
ed and bound between expensive covers — because as a per-
fect specimen of the printers' art it was of course unique in
literature, and exceedingly valuable to bibliophiles. The
edition sold well and was spread all over the country. The
publisher was very much pleased with himself for having
done something that had hitherto been considered an im-
possibility. Then his pride had a fall, for six or eight
months later he received a letter calling his attention to
an error in a certain line on a certain page. Then came
another letter announcing the discovery of a second error
in this perfect book. I believe before the year was up
four or five mistakes were found.
THIS ONLY GOES TO SHOW that, even with the greatest
care, absolute perfection -is impossible. The next best
thing, therefore, is to correct unavoidable errors as soon as
they are discovered. This Department depends largely
upon its readers to find its occasional slips, and I shall take
great pleasure in calling attention to the misprints as soon
as I know of them. There are many who preserve the
Hcifxi) TABLE ami depend upon the accuracy of the figures
given for reference in the future. They can make their
tables absolutely true by noting in ink on the margin of
the pages any corrections given here later. The errors I
have discovered thus far follow:
HACKETT'S TIME ix THE MILE WALK, shown in the table
on page 538, should be 7 min. 46| see., instead of 7 inin.
4f sec. On page 537, Meehan's time at the end of the lirst
lap in the half-mile run should have been given as 61 sec.,
not as GO. In the table of the Connecticut H.-S.&.A. games
printed on page 634, Beck's shot-put is given as 36 ft. 8! in.
His actual performance was 37 ft. 8t inches. At the dual
games between the Hillhouse High-School and the Board-
man Manual Training-school of New Haven, Beck made a
put of 39 ft. 5 in. This would therefore correct his inter-
.seholastic record in the table on page 706, where it shows
39 ft. 3 in. The order of the finish in the bicycle race at
the Connecticut H.-S.A.A. games was Baker, Steele, Kntx.
This is stated correctly in the table, but not in the text.
A FEW YEARS AGO, long before photography had reached
the stage of accuracy which we now enjoy, instantaneous
photographs were made of a horse in action, aud it. was
shown that the old conception of a galloping steed with
four feet oil' the ground, the animal posed very much like a
Roman arch, was absolutely erroneous. The actual posi-
tion of a moving horse was shown to be entirely different
and somewhat peculiar. Motion is so swift that our e\es
cannot keep up with it — cannot even catch one of its ele-
ments. Thus we get a very imperfect idea of moving
objects that we look at, and not until photographs come
to our assistance do we really know just what we have
seen.
WHAT THE READERS or THIS Department are presumably
most interested in just now is sport, and more particularly
that sport participated in by their schoolmates, and by
754
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
young athletes of tlieir own age in other
schools. Each individual, no doubt, has bis
own favorite branch of athletics, aud lie
naturally strives to reach as great a degree
of perfection as he is capable of in that
special kind of work. It is not, always easy
to succeed in becoming perfect. Books and
descriptive articles are valuable, but they
must lack a great deal. The next best thing
to actual physical demonstration, therefore,
will be a series of instantaneous photo-
graphs that show each element of an ath-
letic performance from the beginning of the
action until the end. This Department will
endeavor from time to time to offer these
series of elements to its readers, aud will
begin .next week by showing just how the
high jump is performed. The photographs
that will accompany the text show now
each motion of the jump is made, where the
jumper is, and how he looks during the en-
tire transit over the bar.
THE GRADUATE.
This Department is roliilurted in the interest ol' stHuip mt.l coll]
••'ill. -i 1«rs. and the Editor "ill tie pleased to answer any question rm
these suhjects so fur as pussihle. Correspondents should address Editor
Stamp Department.
1HAVE a number of inquiries every week
regarding water-marks in stamps, espe-
cially siuce the U.S. has begun the practice.
Many governments have used this method
as a prevention to counterfeiting. The
water-mark is made in the paper while in
process of manufacture. When the paper
pulp is somewhat solidified, a roller is run
over it under pressure. This roller has on
the outside a pattern made in brass or cop-
per, and as it passes over the wet sheet it
thins the paper wherever the pattern has
pressed it. If well done, the water -mark
can be seen by looking through the paper.
If poorly done, the water-mark can be seen
{Indistinctly. Philatelists look for indis-
tinct water-marks by placing the stamp
face downward on a piece of black paper,
or japanned iron, and then apply pure ben-
zine to the back of the stamp with a camel's-
hair brush. This method reveals water-
marks better than any other. Formerly
most paper had a water-mark, but as a rule
to-day it is used on fine qualities of writ-
ing-paper only.
England and hercolonies have used water-
marks in stamps siuce 1854. In that year
the Small Crown was used for Id. red and 2d.
blue. The V. R. was used on the 6d. violet
issued in the same year. In
1855 the Garter was used for
tin- 4il. in three sizes known
as the " Large, Medium, and
Small Garters." To give an
idea of the difference in
value according to water-
marks I quote from a late
catalogue :
Unused. Used.
Small garter, 4d. on bluish paper, $75 00 SI 25
" 100 00 2 50
" 60 00 1 00
" 75 00 2 00
1 75 S
lu 1856 the "Large Crown" aud the
"Heraldic Emblems," or "Four Flowers,"
were used on the Id., l£d., 2d., 3d., 6d.,l-d.,
and Is. stamps.
Eleven years later the " Spray of Rose "
was used on all stamps from :!d. to 2s. The
" Anchor " was used on the 2*d. in 1875, and
the "Orb" on the same stamp five years
later. The "Maltese Cross"
was used on the 10s. and
£1 in 1878. This completes
the water-marks on English
stamps, with the exception
of ^d. stamp, which was
printed on sheets marked
" half-penny."
J. HALT.. — All TT, S. stamps since 1S57 should have
been perforated. Any unperforated U.S. stamps since
then are the results of accidenl, and should not be
catalogued. They are " freaks." Proofs are not per-
forated, and can be distinguished from stamps by their
having been printed on card-board or India paper.
A. P. — I should like to follow your suggestion and
give a list of all the new issues if space permitted.
A. LOHTJKI.I.. — There are three varieties of the cur-
rent. 2c. U. S. with the triangle more or less different.
Types I., II., and III.
B. K. H.— I strongly advise yon not to buy the
Chinese local stamps. They are simply philatelic
trasb, aud will probably be worth less money ten years
from now than they cost to-day. Buy good stamps
from a responsible dealer. As a rule the higher the
value the more likely to increase in the future. This
applies to all but the first-class rarities now worth
from S50 apiece upward.
W. F. BUOWN. — No addresses of dealers can be given
in" this column. I believe the dealers have a full sup-
ply of all the Columbian stamps, except the $1 and $2,
which are sold for $7 aud $4 respectively. There is no
7c. Columbian stamp.
M. S. C.— The coin dealers sell the 1S03 cent for 10
cents. The English coins mentioned are all common.
L. V. Br.tss. — Thanks for your suggestion. I would
adopt the same at once, but the postal laws do not
permit the printing of any illustration of a U.S.
stamp, or even part of such and the absence of illus-
trations would make such articles uninteresting' and
very difficult to understand.
H. GROSSMAN.— England 1840 Id. black, 2d. blue.
RAY B. BAKKIL.— The Cape of Good Hope, 1861, Id.
red is worth 60 cents, the wood-black, $15, the wood-
black error, same isMie, Si'iii. Th.- \,d. 1S71 is sold
for 6 cents. $1, $2, and $5 Columbian, $7, $1, $5 50 re-
spectively.
O. A. P.— It is not a coin, and is worth nothing.
HELEN O. KAUPEII.— The 90c. orange, 1890, is sold by
dealers for Jl 50 ifnused, 75 cents used. The coins are
worth face value only.
B. W. LKAVITT.— A 2c. stamp should always be en-
closed with a letter of inquiry.
C. McQrxEN.— The values of all the Columbians are
about the same as six months ago, except that the $1
has advanced to about so in value, aud the $2 is hard
to get at less than J4.
H. H. BOWMAN. — The 3c. 1861 mentioned by you is
the regular rose issue, but oxidized by time. All red
stamps witli cochineal are subject to oxidization from
dampness, sulphur fumes, etc.
H. C. DniUR.— I congratulate you on your discovery
of a rare local.
J. B. DAGGKTT. — There are three varieties of the 1803
cent The small circle is sold for 10c., the large circle
for 40c., the 1-100 and 1-1000 for 35c. The Kossuth
medal has no value.
W. S. FOWI.EK. — The first postage-stamp ever made
was the 1 p. black of 1840. It is sold for Sc. The 1 p.
red was used from 1841 to 1880. There are many
minor varieties, some of which are rare.
E. P. Novrs.— The silver dollar does not command a
premium.
J. S. GUEKN. — No premium on the eagle cent. The
Dutch penny has no value in the U. S.
W. H. KKIIK. — The two Siam provisional*, 1 att on
64 alts and 2 atts on 64 atts, are worth lOc. or 15c. each.
The other stamp is a "sick-fund "stamp from Ger-
many.
C. C. PEUPAI.U — The difference in the stamps is
caused by imperfect printing.
Asn. — The $3 gold pieces do not command any pre-
mium. The dates given are the common dates.
M. C. W. — The two stamps are revenue stamps from
Bosnia. They cannot lie used in payment of postage.
Embossing was described in the last number of the
ROUND TABLE. Stamps vary in value from year to
year, and even mouth to month. Generally there is
an increase year by year, but in a few instances they
decrease in value. No catalogue can fix prict-s. and the
same issue may be cheap or dear, according to the
condition of the individual stamp.
PllILATUS.
A. r> V K R.T I S K M K N 'i' S.
Highest of all in Leavening Power. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Baking
Powder
ABSOLUTELY PURE
HARPER'S NEW CATALOGUE,
Thoroughly revised, classified, and indexed, will be sent
by mail to any address on receipt of ten cents.
755
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Bicycleroute.
Fair bicyc/eroad.
/way s/afion.
[^ Hill or poor road.
•f* Hotel.
if
"
BICYCLING
This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will be pleased to
answer any question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain much vnlu Uile ilnt:t kindly
supplied from the official maps and road-books of tile League of American Wheelmen. Reeop-
nizirs tlie value of the work being done by the L A. W., the Editor will be pleased to furnish
subscribers with membership blanks and information so far as possible.
T^HE last stage of the run from New York to Philadelphia
is given in this week's map. The distance is thirty-
one miles, and the road, good iu the main, is greatly helped
by being generally a little down grade. On leaving Treutou
by Warren Street the rider will soon come to the Delaware
River, which he should cross by the Warren Street Bridge.
Hi- then runs into Morrisville on the other side. Imme-
diately after crossing, turn left to the Bristol turnpike, aud
on reaching this turn to the right into it. The run is direct
then to Tullytowu aud theuce to Bristol. Between Tully-
town aud Bristol the run is along the river, and at times
the road is quite good, especially if rain has not made the
reddish-yellow earth soggy aud muddy. For a good deal
of the distance from Trenton to Bristol — a distance of nine
miles or more — you will do well to take the side path, which
here, as elsewhere over such generally level country as New
Jersey aud this part of Pennsylvania, is likely to be good.
FROM BRISTOL TURN TO THE RIGHT at the hotel aud run
on to the cemetery, where you should take the left fork,.
which will carry you direct to Frankford-on-Pike, a dis-
tance of fifteen miles. From here the run to the outskirts
of Philadelphia is but two miles. On this run from Bristol
you pass by Bridgewater, Eddingtou, Holmesburg, near
Tacony, and into Frankford, and there is but oue hill of
any note, which is just before entering Holmesburg.
Indeed, this is not a bad hill compared with some of the
Western Massachusetts hills, and some of those on the
New York-Albany route. Entering Philadelphia you run
along Lehigh Avenue, until reaching Broad Street, where
you turn left into the latter, aud rim ou to the public
buildings iu the centre of the city.
PHILADELPHIA is A MAGNIFICENT CITY for bicyclists, and
we propose next week to give a map of all the asphalted
and macadamized streets within the city limits, which iu the
coining weeks will be followed by short routes iu the vicinity.
The New York-Philadelphia rim is a capital oue, and can
be made if the trip is taken at easy stages, as we have de-
scribed if, by any one -who can ride a wheel. Many -women
could do it without difficulty, and it has the added advan-
tawe of being part of the way on the great New York-
Washington run. So that if you arrive at Philadelphia,
and want a little longer journey, especially if it is in the
fall of the year, and Washington is in full feather, there is
a fine opportunity for a good long trip of easy stages to-
Washington and return to New York. Inquiries are con-
stantly being made to the Department regarding trips, and
the best roads from one town or city to another. Partly
because of the absolute inadequacy of space, and partly be-
cause maps of many of these routes could not be judiciously
published, we have been unable to answer these questions.
wever, in regard to
isiou in the State-
rhere you reside, you pay |2, and receive a copy of the road
book of that State, if one has been issued, besides maps
showing the best bicycle roads. These are sent you free
of charge. You can procure road books of other States by
•writing to the Secretary of the L.A.W. Division for the
State of -- , naming the particular State iu question.
These will cost from $1 to $2 each. Using these there will
be no difficulty in laying out the best roads between al-
most any two points you desire.
MOTH —Map of New York city'asplmlted streets in No. 809. Map of
roule from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
Connecticut in No Sit. New York lo Stnten Island in No. 812. New
Jersej from HeSbohen to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814.
Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Norlhport in No. 816.
T-irrvtmin lo Ponghkeepsde in No. SIT. Ponghkeepsie to Hudson in,
No SIS Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Tottenville to Trenton in 820.
A general suggestion can be made, howeve
this matter. If you join the L.A.W. Divisic
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
. THE
fPUDDING
Tliis Department ii conducted in the interest of Girls and \,.nni!
W ii iiii.l ilie E.lit.ir will be pleased to answer any qu,..ti..n <>M
the subject so fur as |,n*sible. Correspondents should address Editor.
GOING to the country ? City girls think
as much of their summers among green
lii-lils ns country girls do of coming to lowu,
and one cau say no more than that.
SCHOOL is over, and the lessons done with
for the present, and now you may enjoy the
sense of freedom from rules, which is one
•of tho really charming things iu a vacation.
If I were, you, though. I would not spend all
the summer weeks without learning some-
thing, either about Nature and her wonders,
•or else about housekeeping and sewing.
AT Aunty's iu the mountains help is hard
•to get, and Aunty and her daughters make
their own beds, and do much of the house-
work outside of the kitchen. Do you know
liow to make a bed? It looks very easy,
yet there is an art iu doing it well.
IN the first place you must thoroughly
air your bed every day. Pull the bed-
clothes apart, set the mattress on end, if it
is in two pieces so that yon cau mauage it,
and open the windows widely. Leave bed
and bedding this way, exposed to air aud
sunlight, for at least an hour. Then spread
your under sheet smoothly on the mattress,
tucking it well in at the top. Similarly
tuck the upper sheet iu with great care at
the bottom of the bed, so that it will not
work loose and leave the feet of a restless
sleeper exposed. Be sure in laying on your
blankets that the open end of them is at the
top of the bed. A person often requires a
second thickness of blanket before morn-
ing, and can arrange it as she wishes if the
closed end of the blanket is at the bottom of
•the bed.
Now comes your dainty upper spread, to
be folded up and laid aside at night, your
bolster, and your pillows. I would enjoy
sleeping in a bed made by one of my girls if
she followed these directions.
OF course you are going to begin making
jour Christmas presents this summer. The
beautiful centre-pieces, doilies, aud other
hits of embroidery which you intend to send
here and there to dear friends must be
planned for and finished, from the first care-
ful stitch to the last, during your summer
leisure. A set of towels or handkerchiefs
with a monogram in the corner of each will
delight mamma, and Arthur will be very
much pleased if his sister makes a cover for
his mantel or his chiffonier. It will be well
to select your materials and take them in
your trunk, and then set apart a definite
part of each day for your work.
SOME of you belong to the Needle-work
Guild, and are pledged to send a certain
number of finished garments to the head-
quarters of the society in the autumn.
You must make these little garments, slips,
petticoats, aprons, or whatever they may
be, with the utmost nicety. Let only lov-
ing, careful stitches go into your work for
the poor.
LAST summer a beautiful girl from town
found part of her pleasure in teaching some
little children in a sea-side village how to
sew. Her little class came to her vine-
shaded veranda every week, and there she
showed them how to hem and over -hand
and fell and back-stitch, and when work
was over she gave them a little treat of
candy and fruit. Do you suppose they for-
got her when the long winter came, and
don't you think they are hoping to see her
again this summer .'
WILL you all take notice that if you wish
letters answered in this column you must
send them a fortnight in advance of the oc-
casion? It is impossible for me to answer
iu "next week's paper" an inquiry which
comes to me on the Saturday or Monday
just before an issue. Please give your-
selves and me a little longer time.
I
A READY ANSWER.
THE poorer classes among the Maltese
have a ready wit, if the story told by
a returned traveller is true. An English
officer stationed at Malta, failing to make
a Maltese understand what he meant, called
the poor man " a fool." Understanding this
much, the man, who had travelled about a
good deal, though he did not understand
English, replied by asking, "Do you speak
Maltese t" " No." " Do you speak Arabic ?"
" No." " Do you speak Greek ?" " No." " Do
you speak Italian ?" "No." "Then if I be
one fool, yon be four fools."
A POUND OF FACTS
is worth oceans of theories. More infants are suc-
cessfully raised on the Gail Borden Eagle Brand Con-
densed Milk than upon any other food. Infant
Health is a valuable pamphlet for mothers. Send your
address to N. Y. Condensed Milk Co., N. Y.— [Adv.
U^Dvn
une CA3 Go
Chudda Shawls
IN TAN SHADES,
from 75C. to 3.50 each
Less than half price.
1 916 dt.
NEW YORK.
757
Columbia
Bicycle
advertising has for months
been conspicuous by its ab-
sence. 1895 Columbias at
$100 — finest, easiest-running
bicycles ever produced at
any price — have been doing
their own advertising.
For the first time this year we can assure
reasonably prompt d'eliverv of regn-
larly equipped Columbias
and Hartfords.
You See Them Everywhere
Pope Manufacturing Co.
Gf neral Offices and Factories, Hartford, Conn
BRANCH STORES: Boston, New York.
Chicago, Providence, Philadelphia,
Buffalo, Brooklyn, Baltimore, Wash-
ington, San Francisco.
Stamps,
100 all dif. Venezuela, Costa Rica, etc., only
JT3I Hit-.; 20U ;M dif. Hay ti.Hawnii.etc., only 50c.
Ag'tswautedatSOperctcom. LMFKEE1
C. A. Stegmaii n,2722 EadsAv., St. Louis,Mo.
I f\f\ all different, China, etc., 10c.; 5 Saxony, 10c.;
I 40 Spain, 4uc.; 6 Tunis, 14c.; 10 U. S. Rev-
I UU enues, lOc. Agts. wtd., <M% com.; '95 list free.
CRITTENDEN & BORGMAN CO., Detroit, Mich.
Commit to
Memory.
In Qermany the children in the schools Commit
to Memory the words they are accustomed to
sing, and they are seldom at a loss for Music any-
where; especially when great numbers are as-
sembled do they sing together, in mighty chorus,
the songs and hymns of the Fatherland without
reference to a book "for the words." This is
a grand result coming out of the Schools. In
America too much time is occupied in teaching,
not enough in learning, and, as a result, when
we want to sing— perhaps only the National
Hymn— "nobody knows the words." Let it be
regarded an essential part of School work, daily
or weekly, for Teacher and pupil to Commit to
Memory some good thing in Prose or Verse.
The Franklin Square Song- Collection comprises
Eieht Numbers, which may be had bound sepa-
rately or in different styles. These numbers may
also be had in two volumes at $3.00 each. For full
list of contents, sixteen hundred songs and hymns,
alphabetically arranged, address
Haxper & Brothers, New York.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Something New In Puzzles.
Here is something quite new in puzzles. There
is contained in the following story a foui;-line verse
from one of Alice Gary's most familiar poems.
The first two lines contain seven words, the third
line six, and the last, eight. Every other line
rhymes. The verse's subject is a moralone — about
right living. It is not concealed in any way. It is
not made up of parts of words, nor of letters omit-
ted, or words misspelled. But it is there— openly
and plainly there. Who can find ir ?
The author of this puzzle is Mi<s M;unie Denton,
who lives in Grand i: ipids, Mich. No prizes are
offered for finding this verse, hut we hope you
will try to find it. We will print it in a week or
two. The following is the puzzle :
This is the true story, dear aunt Ruth and
Ulyses, of my trip to Europe. We started October
twenty-fifth, from Kockport, Texas. How many
days we were upon the water I cannot tell, as
Sarah, my sister, was very ill on the way, and I de-
voted myself constantly to her. Nevertheless we
at last arrived at our destination, which was Brus-
sels, where Eva Irving was awaiting us. Near
our hotel was a shop owned by Gustav Narheisen,
whose sign bore this— 'Oysters To Sell.'
Every member of the family appeared in the
window as our carriage stopped at the hotel, but
auntie explained to us that their neighbors were
particular friends of hers, and it was out of com-
pliment to us that they were watching our advent
so eagerly. Eleven heads we counted before we
entered our hotel, the Meisterschaft, where we ate
a hearty supper, and I retired at once.
Next day Gustav called, bringing his wife, Irene,
and his two daughters. Nerissa and Dorcas. Our
first impression, I must say, was not favorable;
but Nerissa was really a beautiful girl. Genuine
worth, however, cannot long copceal itself, and we
were not slow to discover the noble qualities of
Eva's friends. Auntie took us out next day. Com-
ing home, we found auntie's maid packing her
trunk, and learned that we were to start for Havre
that afternoon. Delighted at the thought of new
scenes were we. After discussion we decHt-il to
go by an overland route as far as the river V'unie.
down which we sailed until we reached them«mrh.
Then from there we sailed to Havre.
As we were tired out we were glad to rest at the
Thiers house. Going out next day, we met an old
friend, Olive Easton, who had married and settled
in a small village on the Seine, near Beauveau.
Yet we were glad to leave this lively seaport town
behind us and sail up the Seine again. Our <lesti-
nation this time was Marseilles. Entering it, we
purchased a copy of the Literary Idler. This we
hastened to peruse, reading very eagerly tin- tn-ws
from Toulon and Tameraque. Lest inquiries
should be made respecting this paper, let me say
that it is one of the few English papers published
in foreign cities.
Gustav sent us a letter containing an invitation
to the wedding of his daughter Olivia, which was
to take place in October, and as this was December,
he thought that we might be there in time. Neris-
sa also sent us a note, telling us in confidence that
her marriage was to follow Olivia's, as soon as her
Theodore was able to provide a cozy home for
her. I was anxious to attend the wedding.
Next, morning while poring over a copy of ]>r< ams,
with Raphael, the hotel cat, curled up in rny lap,
Eva entered and announced that an old friend of
ours from Austin was in Marseilles and would call
upon us the next afternoon. • I was in a flutter of
joy, and forgetting my book, ran away to Ml mv
sister of the good news. Nothing ever ruffled rny
sister's composure, but the light in her eyes told
that she would be glad to see George Ogden. Five
years ago we three played together as children,
George always treating my sister with admiring
deference, but finding fault with me whenever op-
portunity offered.
Ruby Eliot had written to us that her cousin
from Austin was wintering in Toulon, but we had
nut i IK night of meeting him here. The next after-
noon our maid Harriette was nearly crazed by tbe
demands made upon her time and taste. I gave
rip in despair, and confined myself to looking like
a fright in a dark red silk. Not so with my sister,
who was perfectly exquisite in a dove-colored silk
and white lace. George called at half past four,
and, of course, gave all his attention to Sarah
The sequel to this s'ory cannot be written, but
those two were only friends, after all, and some
people admire elves in red dresses more than
saints in gray. Our next move was cross country
by rail, and after many days sailing through bays,
channels, and straits we landed at Dover, where
we ivrnaine'l until October, when we crossed the
strait t<» llruss.-K arriving in time for the double
wedding.
Yesterday something happened to convince me
that there was no place like Austin in \vMHi to
spend the rest of my days. Now as we are about
to return to our native country a slight feeling of
disappointment will arise that Dover was the only
city in Britain visited by us. Yet how glad we
shall all be to return to our native land.
Seeing the " Defender's " Launching.
I really wish I had had every member of the
Round Table that is interested in boats with me
on Saturday, June 29th. On that memorable day I
went with a party of friends on board of a sloop-
yacht to witness the launching of the Defender.
We left Warren about 9.30 A. M. We dropped an-
chor in Bristol Harbor just in time, for about five
minutes later the big boat glided down the ways
amid the banging of guns and the shrill whistles
from the numerous steamboats. The only thing to
mar the occasion was that the launching was not
as successful as expected, for the boat stuck on
the ways and was not floated till two days later.
As soon as the launching was over, I looked
around to see what yachts were in the harbor.
At our left, was the Colonist, the practice boat for
the crew of the Defender, consisting of thirty-three
men. Among the other yachts were the Valiant,
the handsome Conqueror, of F. W. Vanderbilt, the
Shearwater, Sakonnet, and many, many others. The
harbor, indeed, presented a beautiful picture from
AT THE DK.FKMiKK > I.Al'XCHING.
the shore. After lunch, my chum and myself went
in one of the row-boats up near the cup-defender.
thus getting a finer view of it than ever.
Souvenirs have been floating around Bristol and
vicinity for a month in the shape of aluminum
rings ; but other souvenirs were sold on the launch-
ing-day. Some were stick -pins made from the
bronze of tbe rudder-post. A bout 3.30 a stiff breeze
set in, and many of the yachts took advantage of
it and started out on a spin- When we got back
to our yacht the waves were dancing merrily
about its bow, much to our delight.
When we got "under way" and fairly flew out
of the harbor, the crew of the C'olo»ia took off their
caps and waved to us (Captain " Hank Huff" also),
and it is needless to say the salute was returned.
and kept up for at least three minutes. With our
spinnaker " set" we just skimmed homeward,
reaching Warren in an hour. The spray came
758
over the boat as we sped along. For my part, I
got an extra coat of tan. 1 should like to know if
any other members of the Table were at the launch-
inu'. Ln>E DE ALCAZAK, R. T. L.
WARRBN, R. I.
Questions anJ> answers.
Ida Fitzpatrick : We believe there is no active
Chapter in Hempstead now. J. C. Failing : There is
no active mineral Chapter. Can't \v hair one in
Oregon? All Chapters interested in minerals also
collect stones, flowers, etc. Noah Ruark : It is like-
ly that we shall have some attractive offers to I
make to members in September. Watch fur them.
They are not quite ready now. Will Frances A.
Rice send her address, that we may return some
stamps?
We have to thank Katherine Warren for her
morsel about Bermuda. We fear, however, we
shall not have space for it. Does any member
know of a rule, condition, or whatever it might be
called, regarding the title of the Emperor of Ger-
many, or German Emperor— one that was fixed at
tbe time William I. was proclaimed at Versailles?
The question is whether "German Emperor" is
the correct title, or " Emperor of Germany," and
why? Who knows about it?
Tom S.Winston says he is immensely f.md of
machinery. Are you? He lives at Abbeville, La.
—away down near the Texas line. He wishes the
Table had a Chapter of amateur machinists or en-
gineers. He may tell us about that stock ranch.
Isabel McC. Lemmon, Englewood, N.J.,asks if El-
sie G. Unruh will send her address? She wishes to
forward some pressed flowers. Berthold Landau,
310 East Third Street, New York, wants to join a
literary Chapter.
Dudley Polk asks if tbe "literature of to-day
tends toward the realistic or the idealistic." We
believe the critics say it tends
--. toward the former. Some say
that they think the day of lit-
erary realism is about over.
G. G. B. asks the cost of a chick-
en-coop such as Mr. Chase re-
cently described. The cost of
material varies so, according
to locality, that it is difficult
to name any fixed sum. The
cost can easily be figured out,
as the drawing is made ac-
cording to a scale. Find the
number of square feet of lum-
ber required, and the cost of
the window-frame at any lum-
ber dealer's.
C. L. B. Beach, Hull, Iowa,
wants to trade pressed flow-
ers. He also wants specimens
of the "fly -catcher" and of
the "pitcher-plant." Andrew
Neill : The numbers of HAR-
PER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, Novem-
ber to April, and of HARPER'S
ROUND TABLE, April 30tb to the
end of the year, will be bound
into one volume, not two. Be-
ginning with the change in
form and name, pages contain-
ing advertisements will be bound into the volume,
not cut out as formerly. Platinum and iridium
are found in the Ural Mountains, in Brazil, Cali-
fornia, and Ceylon Th'-y are original or primary
substances, not manufactures. Platinum is used
in telegraph keys, and indium, being very hard,
for nibs in the ends of gold pens.
Helen P. Hubbard : Common oyster-shells con-
tain lime, nitrogen, iron, sulphur, manganese. HI;IL,'-
m-sia, flour, bromine, phosphoric acid, and iodim-,
and, ground to a powder, were once used as merli-
cine. since all of the substances are good for Imikl-
ing up the system- Walter Henry, of Wisconsin,
asks where he can procure silk-worm eggs. We
think he can get them from the American Silk-Cul-
ture Association, Arch Street, Philadelphia, Pa., or
from the Department of Agriculture. Washington,
D. C. At any rate, both will be glad to give him
information where he can get them.
HARPER'S EOUND TABLE
RICH TIMES.
CALIFORNIA was a rich spot for olie to
live in Hack in tin- lil'iic-. 'T In-fore
then. The follow-in;; arr.uint of nuggets of
gold found in California in thr olcliln\s. re-
cently given by an authority, almost makes
one wish that one hail been living there at
that time, although the hardships endured
by the pioneer si-t tiers were .something which
uo amount of gold could compensate for.
The largest mass of gold ever found in
California was that dug out at Carson Hill,
Calaveras County, in 1*54. It weighed 195
pounds. Other lumps weighing several
pounds were found at the same place. Au-
gust 18, l«iO, \V. A. Farish and Harry Warner
took from the Monumental Quartz Mines,
Sierra County, a mass of gold and quartz
weighing 133 pounds. It was sold to E. B.
Woodward, of San Francisco, for $21,(W> :••!.
It w-as exhibited at Woodward's Gardens
for some time, then was melted down. It
yielded gold to the value of $17,654 94.
August 4, 1858, Ira A. Willard found on
the west branch of the Feather River a
ungget which weighed 54 pounds avoirdu-
pois before and 49i pounds after melting.
A nugget dug at Kelsey, El Dorado County,
was sold for S4700. In 1864 a ungget was
found in the Middle Fork of the American
River, two miles from Michigan Blutf, that
weighed 18 pounds 10 ounces, and was sold
for S4-JH4 for the tinder. In 1850 at Corona,
Tuolumne County, was found a gold-quartz
nugget weighing 151 pounds 6 ounces. Half
a mill' east of Columbia, Tuolumne County,
near the Kuapp Ranch, a Mr. Strain found
a nugget which weighed 50 pounds avoir-
dupois. It yielded ss.-)HU when melted. In
1849 was found in Sullivan's Creek, Tuo-
lumne County, a nugget that weighed 28
pounds avoirdupois. In 1871 a nugget was
found in Kanaka Creek, Sierra County, that
weighed 9t> pounds. At Rattlesnake Creek
the same year a nugget weighing 106 pounds
2 ounces was found. Aquartz bowlder found
in French Gulch, Sierra County. l^~>l, yielded
$8000 in gold. In 1867 a bov. Ider of gold
quartz was found in what is known as the
"Bowlder Gravel" claim, from which many
smaller gold-quartz nuggets have been taken
at various times.
Outside of California few nuggets of note
have been found iu any of the Pud tic coast
States and Territories. The largest nugget
ever found iu Nevada was one taken out
of the Osceola Placer Mine about twenty
years ago. It weighed 24 pounds, and is
supposed to have contained nearly 84000 in
gold. A hired man found and stole it. but
repenting, gave up to the owners in a month
or two over $2000 in small bars — all he had
left of the big chunk. In the same mine,
about a year ago, a nugget worth $2190 was
found. Montana's largest nugget w-as one
found by Ed. Rising at Snow-Shoe Gulch, on
tin- Little Blackfoot River. It was worth
$:;:>5ii. It la\ t welve feet below the surface,
and about a foot above the bedrock. Col-
orado's biggest nuggetwas found atBreckin-
ridge. It weighed 1 pounds, but was mixed
with lead, carbonate, and quartz.
JACK. "What two professions are the
same ?"
BOBBY. " Don't know."
JACK. ''The dentist and the artist; they
both have to draw ."
IVORY SOAP
IT FLOATS
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VACATION READING
From Harper's Young People Series.
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The Mystery of Abel Forefinger. By WILLIAM
DRYSDALE.
Raftmates. — Canoemates. — Campmates. —
Dor/mates. By KIRK MUNROE.
l^oung Lucretia, and Other Stofies. By MARY
E. WILKINS.
A Boy's Town. By W. 1). HOWELLS.
Diego Pinzon. By J. R. CORYELL.
I ft nut rated. Square Himo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 OO each.
Wakulla. — The Flamingo Feather. — Derrick
Sterling. —Chrystal, Jack & Co., and Delta
B/xby. By KIRK MUNKOK.
The Talking Leaves.— Two Arrows. — The Red
Mustang. By W. O. SK>I>I>ARD.
Prince Lazybones, and Other Stories. By Mrs.
W. J. HAYS.
The Ice Queen. By ERNEST INGERSOLL.
Uncle Peter's Trust. By GEORGE B. PERRY.
Toby Tyler.— Mr. Stubbs's Brother.— Tim and
Tip. — Left Behind. — Raising the " Pearl. "-
Silent Pete. By JAMES OTIS.
The Four Macnicols. By WILLIAM BLACK.
The Lost City. — Into Unknown Seas. By
DAVID KER.
The Story of Music and Musicians. — Jo's
Opportunity. — Rolf House. — Mildred's Bar-
gain, and Other Stories. — Han. — The
Colonel's Money. — The Household of Glen
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Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.
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7o9
WICKED WILLIE'S DREAM.
THE COMBINATION OF TOO MUCH UUOKLFUEKRY PPDPING AND A GUILTY OONSOIBNOE AFTEK ANNOYING UlS SISTER'S PET KITTEN.
TKACHEU. "Now, girls, you all know what liquid measure
is. Little Alice may tell me what measure treats of iucbes,
feet, and yards."
E ALICE. " Tape measure, teacher."
AUNTIE was a Southern mammy who had come North
•with the family she was born in, for the first time in her
life. The sights and peculiarities of the Northern people,
so strange to her eyes, caused her a great deal of trouble
and confusion, and also provoked much mirth. Now
Auntie had seen but little ice in the South, and one very
warm day she addressed her young missus: "Lor', chile,
I's dot a powerful headdake."
"Why, Auntie, I'll get you some ice," which the young
lady did, telling her to put some in a handkerchief around
her head, and take a small piece in her mouth.
Auntie started to do as she was directed, but evidently
•overdid it, for in a short time she burst into the dining-
room, shouting,
" O Lor', missee, I's frizzed, I's gwiue ter die. O Lor1 er
massy, gim me some hot water, quick, befo'I's a dead mam-
my."
"Why, what on earth is tlie matter, Auntie?"
After a great deal of trouble, the following explanation
was given :
"I's done swallow dat piece of ice as youse tole me, an'
it stuck in my chest, an' den it began ter freeze all my chest,
an' I done feel it er reachiu'fer iny heart. Dat settled it
sure'nough. Xothin' would stop that freczin' till I swal-
lered de hot water ter melt it. Yes, I's better now, but I
•don' want no more ob dat ice."
TEACHER. " If your father was to hear of your bad con-
duct it would make his hair turn gray."
BOBBY. "I beg your pardon, sir, my father hasn't any
hair left."
TUMMY. "Why does the sun rise in the east?"
BOBBY. " I guess there must be a (y)east factory over
that way."
FIRST BOY. " Did you hurt yourself when you fell that
time ?"
SECOND BOY. "Nop,uot when I fell; it was when I hit
the ground I hurt myself."
THE HORNETS' NEST.
THE hornets' nest is football-shaped
About the rose-bush curled,
But I would never raise my foot
To kick it for the world.
A GENTLEMAN once asked a lawyer what he would do
provided he had loaned a man $500, and the man left the
country without sending any acknowledgments.
" Why, that's simple ; just write him to send an acknow-
ledgment for the $5000 you lent him, and he will doubtless
reply stating it was only $500. That will suffice for a re-
ceipt, and you can proceed against him if necessary."
760
HARPERS
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, by HABPRB & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 822.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY. JULY 30, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
r
JOE'S SCHEME.
BY J. SANFORD BARNES, JUN.
THE sharp crackliug of the gravel, aud the sound of a
horse's hoofs coining up the driveway which led to
the Thompsons' house, told Joe that Ned was going to be
as prompt as he always was when the two boys had made
any appointment, so he dropped his book, and ran to the
door just as a neat little buckboard pulled up at the door-
step.
"Hello, Ned!" said Joe ; "just on time. I knew that was
you the moment I heard the rig turn in the gate. Wait
till I get my hat and I'll drive to the stable with you. Say,
will you stay to lunch 7 Jerry '11 take care of him," he
nodded toward the little roan, aud disappeared in the door-
way. In a moment he was back again, aud jumping in
with Ned they spun oft' to the stable, where Jerry, the
coachman, promised to see that Tot should get his full
measure of feed at noon.
" Now, to work," said Joe, " and after lunch we'll start
oil' for the lake. Just you wait till you've heard my scheme,
and you'll think it a dandy; see if you don't."
" Well, what is it ?" said Ned. " There's no use keeping it
to yourself forever."
"Come up in the workshop, for we've got to spend the
rest of the moruing there, and I'll tell you all about it."
The boys on leaving the stable turned down towards
the farm barns, where in one of the vacant rooms Mr.
Thompson had fitted up a neat little carpenter shop for his
son. In one corner was a first-class lathe for all kinds of
wood-turning, and across the room was a long carpenter's
bench with all the appliances complete, while over in one
of the other corners was what remained of Joe's first scroll-
saw, rather dilapidated and cheap-looking now, but still of
some service. Joe would not have parted with it even if
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
he did not use it, for with it be developed his first loye for
carpentry, which had finally led to the present shop.
" Now look here," said Joe ; " my scheme is the simplest in
tin- world; it's a plan to catch those bass iu Laurel Lake
which we can't get any way we've tried so far. It isn't
the bait. Jingo ! we've tried everything, from grasshoppers,
dobsoiis, and live bait down to worms; they just look at it,
and then look up at the boat over their heads, and scoot.
liVnieinber that monster we saw off Sea Lion last Tuesday ?
AVbat would you give to get him, eh?"
••What would I give? Why, Joe, he's the biggest bass
in that lake. I'd give — now, let me see." said Ned, scratch-
ing his head as he turned it from one side to the other;
'• I'd be willing to throw my new rod in the lake and stop
li>liing the rest of the summer."
"So would I," said Joe. "But look here, just get that
cross-cut saw and help me get this plank so that we can get
at it, and I'll explain as we go along." Joe measured off
on the board ten divisions of eight inches each, and started
sawing across the first line. "Now, you see," said he,
"what I propose is that we take each of these ten pieces,
cut up that old line of mine into lengths of about eight or
nine feet, and then — see? Isn't that easy? The beauty
of it is that we have a chance iu ten different places; just
string them along the shore, leave them, and while, we wait
jump in and play fish ourselves ott' Baldwin's Cliff; we can
easily wat.cli the floats from there. Catcli ?''
Ned had been listening eagerly, and approved the scheme
heartily, only wondering why it had not occurred to them
before. When Joe finished, Ned raised the question of bait,
hut was put off by Joe's saying there would be time enough
to get all the grasshoppers and crickets they wanted, and
maybe a few frogs, so they went to work, coats off, and
sleeves rolled up in a businesslike manner. In the course
of an hour or more they bad that part of the w ork all done,
and a short time afterwards they started up to the stable
with their arms full of their invention, and deposited it
eiimplete in the box under the seat of Ned's huckhna.nl.
" Now for bait," said Joe ; " you take this box and keep
along by that old stone wall and look sharp for crickets.
There are lots of old boards and stones there; turn them
all over and you'll get enough. I'll stick to this field and
get the 'hoppers.''
They separated, and were soon hard at work, both using
their hands to catch the wily bait; Ned said he never had
any luck with 'hoppers or crickets that were caught with a,
buttertly net. After an hour they decided they had enough,
and turned clown toward a small stream which ran through
the meadow, and got a dozen or more frogs, and so com-
plete in all the details of their plan they came into the
house and sat down to lunch. It seemed to both the boys
entirely too long, and Joe fidgeted so much that his father
noticed it, and tried to find out what the cause was.
"No, nothing's the matter, only we want to hurry up and
get to the lake. We've got a scheme, and later we're going
to have a swim,"
"What is it, Joe?" said Mr. Thompson. "What's up?
You're not going to catch that Jonah's whale you told me
about with dynamitc> or anything like that, are you? You
had better try putting sail on his tail," he added, .jokingly,
and he quietly passed the salt-cellar to Joe. "Come, fill
your pockets ; you'll need it."
Now it might as well he said right here that Mr. Thomp-
son owned many a fine split bamboo rod, and two or three
beautiful guns, and that there were pictures of partridges
and woodcock iu his den. Two fishing pictures in particu-
lar, which had always been Joe's delight, hung near the
door, one of a great trout rolling up to take a fly as it
ski mined the surface of the water, while the other, its mate.
was of a line small-mouthed bass clearing the water, and
shaking him-ell' in i he air iu his efforts to hrea"k away from
the hook which had tempted him. In fact, Mr. Thompson
was a sportsman of the truest kind. Little did Ned and
Joe know how near he came to adding set lines to dynamite
when talking seriously before be mentioned the salt. If
he had been told " the scheme " this story would never have
been written, but the boys went off unaware of what Mr.
Thompson's views were on the method they had devised
to try the bass in Laurel Lake. They took their rods and
bait, of course, hut kept mum about what wasrattling under
the seat as Jerry drove Tot up to the door.
A mile and a half and they turned in at old Farmer
Sayre's. hitched and blanketed the pony, and with their
variety of equipment went down to the shore of the lake,
where their boat was made fast.
"Go ahead, Ned, you row," said Joe; " we'll get there
quicker, and I'm most crazy to see how she works ; aren't
yon ?"
"You bet," replied Ned. "Shove off. Let fall," he
added, giving himself part of the orders he had picked up
hut a week before, while on a visit to a friend on the Sound.
" Give way ; how 's that for nautical, Joe ?"
"Never mind nautical," said Joe; "git there is what we
want. One, two — now, now !" He grunted out each word to
help Ned, who w as pulling with all his might, and the light
little boat jumped ahead at each stroke.
Around the point, which formed the hay in which the
boat was kept, on the shore, but partly hidden by the trees,
was an old, rather dilapidated ice-house; it was called that
by courtesy, for it was no house at all ; it had no roof — it
never had one — but it was used once to store ice in, and
the fishing-ground along the shore in front of it had always
been designated by the boys as "off the ice-house." Ned
and Joe claimed to themselves that they alone knew of the
existence of a certain ledge which ran for some distance
parallel to the shore, but much farther out than the average
fisherman would think of dropping anchor.
As they approached the place, in order to get the right
spot to leave the first float, which had a choice fat frog
wriggling at the end of the line, Ned slowed down and be-
gan to row quietly. He got a certain stump on a point of
land iu line with the roof of a barn way hack on the hill-
side, and was watching for the cross line, a clump of bright
willows with a scraggly dead tree some distance behind
them.
"Whoa, slowly," said Joe, who was also watching.
"There ! hold her, and I'll let him go. There, my tine friend,''
he added, addressing the frog; " good-by to you and good
luck to UN. Now. a stroke or two : there, let her slide ! And
to you, Mr. Hoppergrass,good-bj , and good-luck.'1 He gently
dropped the line over the side, and, so with the others, all
had a farewell given them as they were dropped over at
intervals. Then the hoys rowed on towards Baldwin's
Cliff, keeping their eyes on the small floats as they left
them bobbing under and over the tiny waves.
About four o'clock Ned and Joe had had enough swim-
ming and diving, and fetching white stones from the bot-
tom ; they had been in, as was usually the case, too long,
yet both wanted to stay in longer. Nothing had happened,
as far as they could see, to their floats, and they felt keenly
disappointed. They had hardly noticed that the clouds
were gathering over the hills, and that the wind had risen
so that little white caps had sprung up, and were dancing
in towards shore. But a low mutter of thunder startled
them, and they saw now no way but to adopt a means for
shelter which they had followed before to keep dry.
"Hurry up, Ned," said Joe; "make for the boat; that
storm's a dandy, and coming like thunder, too. It's pouring
at the end of the lake already."
The boys put for the boat as hard as they could, and a
moment later had her beached and rolled over, and their
clothes snugly tucked away under perfect shelter.
"Here she is!" they both cried at the same moment, as
the rain started to come down in large noisy drops, and the
wind caught the spray from the water aud whirled it along
in sudden gusts.
"Let her rain,'' said Joe; "but doesn't that sting your
back.it does mine; and that wind's cold, too. I'm going
to swim out a way, the water's warmer than here."
So Joe plunged in and swam out from the shore.
Ned watched him as he paddled around in the deep wa-
ter; he did not exactly like the idea. The whole scene,
with the dark lowering clouds, broken now aud then by
the jagged streaks of lightning, each one followed by a
sharp and startling smash and roar, made him shiver, and
the large drops and an occasional hailstone made him skin.
762
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
around on the beach. The situation was exciting, though,
anil Joe, now quite a way out, felt the tingles creep through
him. Finally, as Ned was still watching Joe, he saw him
start forward with the overhand Indian stroke, making
straight for the middle of the lake. He put his hands to
his month and shouted :
" Say, Joe ! come back here ! Don't be a fool ; come back !"
Joe paid no attention ; he did not hear the call, which
was carried back into the woods by the gusts of wind; he
kept on straight ahead, swimming as though in a race.
Ned turned and looked at the boat and then at Joe. "I
know what's the matter," he said, aloud ; " he's seen one of
the floats way out there, and he's after it; but he can't
stand it, I know he can't ; he'll be all tired out when he
gets there, and then when he has to tread water and play
that fish — ' Here he stopped, and gave a long low whistle.
"By jingo! he must be a monster! why, he's towed that
float nearly a hundred yards dead against this sea. No,
sir ! Joe can't do it, and here goes for wet clothes to get
home in."
Ned had hardly finished speaking, and inwardly calling
Joe some hard names for his foolishness, when he heard a
cry from the water:
" Ned, oh, Ned ! he's a whale ! Hurry with the boat ; I'm
tuckered ! Hurry !"
The last call to hurry was rather faint, and sounded al-
most as bad to Ned as if it had been "help " that Joe had
cried ; it made his heart leap in his throat.
" Let go the line," Ned cried back, " and keep your head,
and I'll be there in a moment."
Again the words were lost in the wind, and Joe continued
his struggle. In his excitement he felt that letting go that
line would be like cutting it, and lie hung on, now thrash-
ing and splashing as the fish started to twine the line
around his legs, and the sharp points of his fins pricked
him. It was a case of the fish playing Joe, a pretty even
struggle, but Joe was game and bound to have him. He
did not appreciate that his strokes and kicks to keep his
head up over the choppy surface of the lake were leaving
him weaker and weaker.
As Joe turned his head a moment towards shore lie saw
Ned pulling towards him with all his strength; a moment
later a wave struck him full in the face and caught him
with his mouth open; he gulped and choked, and again
started thrashing and struggling to gain liis breath, but all
he could do was to give a feeble cry of " help," then he sank
out of sight, holding fast to the line.
Ned heard the faint cry, and turned as he rowed against
the storm, which was now luckily falling as quickly as it
had come up. The only thing he saw was I he small piece
of board tip np on its side and disappear. "Thank good-
ness he had hold of that line!" murmured Ned. "Now
brace yourself," he added, aloud, "and keep cool, keep cool,
keep cool."
It seemed to Ned that he said those words a thousand
times; lie, was right on the spot, and was standing and
waiting. The strain was something awful. He knew a
good deal about swimming and about its dangers, and
knew that a person had to come np twice, and that the
third time down was down for good. He thought that Joe
had not called before, yet he could not tell ; but there was
only one thing to do — wait, and, as he had said, "keep
cool."
Ages and ages seemed to pass as Ned, shivering and pale,
strained Ins eyes to see the block of wood appear again.
Suddenly he caught a glimpse of the bit of wood s]o\\]y
rising close by the side of the boat, and below it, as it came
up zigzagging to the surface, lie saw the white body follow-
ing. It was a lucky tiling that a stout trolling-liue had
been used in the scheme, for Xed reached far over the gun-
wale and firmly seized the line, then gently and steadily
pulled the heavy weight to the surface. There were no
signs of life in Joe's limp body; his cramped hand held tin-
line twisted about his fingers, his eyes were closed, and his
mouth half open.
Ned grasped the -wrist which appeared first, and drew
Joe along towards the bow of the boat, so that there would
be uo chance of capsizing. He lay out flat over the bow
and held Joe under the arms, keeping his head well out of
water, and waited. There was nothing to be done now but
iniit; no one was in sight, and shouting would have done
no good, so he held on in his cramped position and watched
the boat get a little headway in drifting towards shore,
driven by the light wind. The sun had come out again,
and blue patches of sky were appearing through the fast-
flying clouds.
As the boat reached the shallow water, Ned leaped out
up to his waist, still clinging to Joe's wrist; a moment
more and he had him safe on shore, and, strange to say,
there, too, was the cause of the trouble, the huge bass, still
fast to the hook, which was far out of eight down his throat.
The fight had been too much for him, and as Ned half car-
ried Joe np the beach to a mossy bank, he also hauled the
monster bass, that showed not a quiver of the gills or a
movement of fin or tail. Ned placed Joe softly down, with
his feet up on the bank and his head, face downward, over
a soft rotten log, and then began the work which meant
life or death. He had kept cool up to this time in a wonder-
ful way, but now he began to get excited. He rolled Joe
over and over, and kneaded him with his hands. Occasion-
ally he stopped to listen to Joe's heart and feel for the
chance of a single breath. It was a strange sight but a
most impressive one — a young boy working for the life of
his friend with all the fervor a.nd love that a close friend-
ship could call forth. Finally Ned's efforts began to have
effect ; there was a slight movement, a slow turning of the
limp body, and Ned felt that Joe was safe, and he uttered a
sigh that meant everything.
Gradually Joe's eyes opened, and finally, after more rub-
bing, he slowly sat up, and for the first time let go the line
which he had held stronger than a vise up to this time.
"Ned, "he said, feebly, " where am I? Where have I
been ? I can't remember anything. I am awful cold," he
continued, and a shiver ran over him. " I must have swal-
lowed half the lake. But I'll lie all right in a moment.
There! now I'm more comfortable," he added, ias Ned
propped him up against an old stump. "Is that the fish?
Oh! Now I remember it all. He is a whale; I told you
so; and I got him too!"
The excitement of seeing the fish changed his thoughts
from himself, and the blood began to flow through his
veins. The wind had died out, and the sun was warm and
cheering. The spirits of the boys rose, and they began to
forget a little of their narrow escape.
" Joe," said Ned. •' is my hair gray ? It ought to be ; you
scared me half to death."
"I'm sorry, Ned," replied Joe, "but I didn't do it on pur-
pose; but I'm feeling rather queer. Let's get home."
They put on their clothes, wet as they were, and Joe
staggered to the boat and fell into the stern seat and lifted
the hass into his lap, where he could look at him and feel
him.
As Ned, tired out and pale, took the oars and rowed slow-
ly over the now glassy water towards the bay, Joe listless-
ly took a small pair of scales from his pocket and weighed
the fish, and when he found that he weighed over sis
pounds, just a little, he gave a long sigh.
" That's the biggest bass on record for this lake, don't
you think so ?"
Ned did not reply ; he was too tired to even speak.
The other floats had been washed ashore or had disap-
peared somewhere ; the boys did not look for them, or even
think of them.
Tot seemed to know that he was pulling two very tired
boys, and went along gently, and turned in of his own ac-
cord at the gate of the Thompsons' place.
Joe tottered as he got out of the bnckboard,and held the
bass up by the gills, to the astonishment of his father and
mother, who were at the door to meet them. They had
seen (lie storm come np, and had anxiously awaited the
boys' return. As he stepped forward, the set line and
block fell on the steps.
The long story was being told in a slow and labored way
by Joe after Ned had gone, when it was interrupted by Mr.
Thompson, who saw that his sou was growing pale and
faint.
763
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
" That '11 <lo for the present," he said. " Now come with
'So you caught him on a set line, did you?" said Mr.
me, old man," and putting his arm around Joe's waist,. he Thompson, as he sat by the bed-side, holding Joe's hand,
gently helped him into the house and up to his own "Now listen to a word of advice. Don't ever use set lines
room, where he was undressed and carefully tucked into
bed.
again. Fish with your rod and reel if you want to be call-
ed a true sportsman."
BOYS AND GIRLS AS RULERS OF MEN.
ALFONSO XIII., KING OF SPAIN.
BY MRS. SERRANO.
THERE have been a great many Kings, since Kings first
began to rule ; but perhaps the little boy who to-day
wears the Spanish crown is the only one among them all
who was boru a King; his father, Alfonso XII., having died
more than five mouths before his birth, the throne remain-
ing vacant during that time.
For the young people of America Alfonso XIII. possesses
an interest apart from and superior to that which attaches
to his exalted position as the ruler of a great nation, in be-
ing a descendant of the noble-minded and great-hearted
Queen, the illustrious Isabella, who, by her encouragement
and assistance, enabled Columbus to undertake the voyage
across unknown seas which resulted in the discovery of a
new world.
He is descended also from Henry of Navarre — the fa-
mous Henry of Navarre whose white plume so often led
his soldiers on to victory — through Philip, Duke of An.jou,
Henry's great-grandson, who succeeded to the Spanish
crown, under the title of Philip V., on the death of his un-
cle Charles II. of Spain. Philip was the first of the Bour-
bon family who reigned in Spain, as Henry of Navarre was
the first of that family who reigned in France.
To the Spanish people, who sincerely mourned the death
of Alfonso XII.. who had endeared himself to them by his
frank and amiable disposition and by his many good quali-
ties, the birth of the young King, which took place in the
royal palace in Madrid on the 17th of May, 1886, was a
THE KING OF SPAIN.
joyful event. It was announced to all Spain by the firing
of twenty-one cannon in every city throughout the king-
dom. On the same day the infant was proclaimed King,
his mother, Queeu Maria Cristina, who had acted as Re-
gent from the time of the late King's death, continued to
fill the same office during the young King's minority.
A few weeks afterward, Queen Maria Cristiua went
with the royal infant, in accordance with the Spanish cus-
tom, to the church of Atocha. She drove to the church in
a magnificent state carriage drawn by six horses covered
with plumes and glitteriug with gold, and followed by
many other splendid carriages. The Queeu was dressed in
deep mourning, and from time to time she held up the lit-
tle Alfonso, who wore neither cap nor other head-covering,
to the view of the people, who cheered and crowded for-
ward to obtain a sight of the infant King, while the band
played the Royal March.
The little Alfonso grew and thrived, more or less like
other babies, until he was two years old, when he was taken
in state to several of the provinces to show him to his peo-
ple. Then he first experienced the uneasiness to which
the head that wears a crown is said by Shakespeare to be
subject, for the incessant cheering of the people and the
ear-piercing strains of the martial music, wherever he was
taken, disturbed him so greatly at last that he would cry
out in his baby accents, " Stop, stop, no more!" Very soon,
however, he began to grow accustomed to the honors paid
him, and when he was taken out walking by the Queen,
whose greatest pleasure it was, after he had learned to
walk, to go out walking unattended with her children, Al-
fonso holding her by the hand while his two sisters walked
iu front, he would wave his hand to every one who passed.
Sometimes he would forget to return a bow or a wave of a
handkerchief, and then the Queen would say to him, " Bow,
Alfonso."
At this time the little King had to take care of him and
to attend upon him a Spanish nurse and an English nurse
and tin Austrian and a Spanish lady, besides his own spe-
cial cook. The Spanish nurse of the royal children is al-
ways brought from one particular part of Spain, the valley
of Paz, in the province of Santauder, where one of the court
physicians goes to select the healthiest and most robust
among the various candidates for the position. As the
young King is of a delicate constitution, thought to have
been inherited from his father, the greatest care has been
lavished upon him ever since his birth, the Queeu herself
exercising a watchful supervision over every detail of his
daily life.
About four years a<;o Alfonso had a very serious illness,
which everybody fejired would terminate fatally, and which
was probably due to a cause that has made many another
little boy ill. Being in the apartments of his aunt, the In-
fanta Isabel, the elder sister of the Princess Eulalia, whose
visit to us at the time of the opening of the exposition at
Chicago made so pleasant an impression upon everybody,
the Infanta gave the little boy a box of bonbons of a par-
ticularly delicious kind, which, seeing that he was observed
by no one, he went on eating until he had finished the box.
During his illness he would often inquire after a little lame
girl to whom he used to give money iu his drives to the
country, wonder what.she was doing, and ask that bonbons
should be sent to her. All Spain followed the course of his
illness with profound anxiety, and there was no one who
did not sympathize with the widowed mother in her afflic-
tion, and rejoice with her when the dangerous symptoms
passed away and the sick boy began to recover.
In October, 1892, Alfonso had another serious illness, the
764
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
result of a cold, contracted probably at the celebration of
tbe fourth centenary of the discovery of America at Huel va,
where he presided at the inauguration of the monument
erected to Columbus on the hill of La Rabida. This sick-
ness also caused for a time the greatest uneasiness.
Tbe young King begins the day by saluting the national
flag from his windows in the palace that look out upon tbe
Plaza de Armas, where the relieving of the guard takes
place every morning at ten o'clock, a ceremony which he
loves to witness. He is passionately fond of everything
military. He takes a great interest in the
soldiers, in what they eat, and in other
details of their life, and he often expresses
pity for the cold which the sentinels on
guard at the palace must feel. In the
park nt Miramar, when the troops are re-
turning to their barracks after drill, he
may often be seen delightedly watching
the soldiers forming in line, and he re-
turns their salute with a military salute.
He is very fond of horses, and the bigger
they are the better he likes them, as he
himself says. He delights in military
music and military evolutions, and a re-
view of the troops is oue of his great
pleasures. On his seventh birthday he
held a grand review of the troops, riding
then for the first time in public. On that
occasion 40,000 troops were reviewed.
Since that time his education has been
directed less exclusively by women than
before. His chief companions are bis tu-
tor, and the General who is the Captain
of the King's guard, with whom he loves
to talk about military matters. He still
has his little playmates, however, and
toys in abundance. He is fond of riding
and driving, and he has a little carriage
of bis own, with two small Moorish don-
keys to draw it, which looks very odd
among all the large carriages in the royal stables in
Madrid.
When the weather is fine he spends almost the whole' of
the day at the royal villa, called tbe Quiuta del 1'arao.
situated a little outside Madrid. He is driven there in a
carriage generally drawn by four mules, and is accompanied
by his royal escort wearing their splendid uniforms and
long white plumes. He knows personally all the soldiers
who form his escort, and tbe moment he sees the Captain,
as soon as the carriage leaves the palace gate, he speaks to
him, and continues chatting with him all the way to the
villa, the Captain riding beside the carriage door. He is
accompanied by his tutor, his governess, and generally oue
other person.
In the villa he is instructed in the studies suitable to his
age, particular attention being paid, however, to military
science. The venerable priest, who is his religious instruct-
or, teaches him also the Basque language, which is alto-
gether different from the Spanish. In the afternoon his
two sisters, Isabel Teresa Cristiua Alfousa Jaciuta, the Prin-
cess of Asturias, who is now about fourteen years of age,
and Maria Teresa Isabel Eugenia Patrocinio Diega, the In-
fanta of Spain, who is about twelve1, often go out to take
afternoon tea with him. In the gardens of the villa he
runs about and plays, after lessons are over, just like other
boys of his age, playing as familiarly with the children of
the gardener as if they were the sous of princes. Whatever
money he happens to have with him he gives to the chil-
dren of the guard and to such poor people as he may chance
to meet on the way, for he is extremely charitable and gen-
erous, both by nature and education, the Queen, his mother,
instilling into his mind the best and noblest sentiments.
In appearance Alfonso is interesting and attractive. His
complexion is very fair, bis hair light and curly, bis expres-
sion rather serious. His usual dress is a sailor jacket and
knickerbockers, sometimes sent from Vienna by his grand-
mother, the Archduchess Isabel, sometimes ordered from
London bv tbe Infanta Isabel, his aunt.
He is a very intelligent child, is very vivacious, and his
manners, notwithstanding the high honors that have been
paid to him since his birth as the chief of a great nation,
are entirely free from arrogance and self-conceit. When the
Queen Regent is holding audience in her apartments in tbe
palace, which are directly below his, he will often go down
and salute those who are waiting in the antechamber, giv-
ing them his hand, even though he may never have seen
them before, this frankness of manner being a trait of the
Spanish people, who are of all people the most democratic.
ALFONSO XIII., WITH HIS MOTHER AND SISTERS.
He is very affectionate in his disposition, although he
has a very firm will; and be tenderly loves his mother,
whom he also greatly respects, and his sisters, who are his
favorite playmates.
He seems, as he grows older, however, to be perfectly
conscious of his exalted position. He knows that he is the
King, and in the official receptions and ceremonies at which
he has to be present he rarely becomes impatient however
long and solemn they may be. One of these rare occasions
was during a royal reception in the throne-room. He u;is
sitting at tbe right liand of the Queen, and all the high
functionaries and courtiers were defiling past him, when
he began to play with the white wand of office of the Duke
of Mediua-Sidouia, a great officer of the palace. Suddenly
leaving his seat and tbe wand of the Duke he ran down the
steps of tbe throne, and mounted astride one of the bronze
lions that stand on either side of it. The act was so en-
tirely childlike and spontaneous, and was performed with
so much grace, that it gave every oue present a sensation
of real pleasure. Even the Queen herself, while she re-
gretted that the young King should have failed in the eti-
quette of tbe occasion, could not help smiling.
On another occasion of a similar kind he amused himself
greatly watching the Chinese diplomats, looking with won-
der and delight at their silk dresses, which he would touch
from time to time with his little hands.
What most attracted his attention, however, was tbe
Chinese ministers pigtail. He waited a long time in vain
for a chance to look at it from behind, for the Chinese
are a very polite people, and the minister would never
think of turning his back upon the King. At last it oc-
curred to Alfonso to run and hide himself in a corner of
the vast apartment, and wait for his opportunity, which he
did. After a while the President of the Cabinet, seeing
him in the corner, went over to him, and said, "What is
your Majesty doing here ?" " Let me alone," answered the
boy ; " I am waiting for the Chinese minister to turn round,
so that I may steal up behind him, and look at his pigtail."
765
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
The boy King, like most other boys, is very fond of boats,
ns may be gathered from the following auecdote. About
three years ago the Queen gave a musical at San Sebas-
tian, a sea-port where the royal family spend some months
every summer for the sea-bathing, at which the Command-
nut of the Port was present. The little Alfonso was very
I" .1 of the Commandant, and had asked him for a boat,
which the Commandant had promised to give the boy. He
had not yet done so, however, and seeing him at the con-
cert, the young King ran from one end of the room to the
other, when the concert was at its best, and, stopping in
front of him, said, " Commandant, when are yon going to
bring me the boat .'"
In San Sebastian the royal family have a magnificent
palace called the palace of Ayete, where, however, they live
very simply. Alfonso plays all day on the beach with his
sisters and other children, running about or making holes
in the sand with his little shovel, in view of everybody. lie-
takes long drives also among the mountains and through
the valleys. Sometimes there is a children's party in the
gardens of the palace, when he mingles freely with his
young guests. Indeed, it is not always necessary that lie
should know who his playmates are. Not long since he
was getting out of the carriage with his mother at the door
of the palace in Madrid, when two little boys who were
passing stopped to look at the boy King. " Mamma, may I
ask those two hoys to come upstairs to play with me ?" Al-
fonso asked the Queen. "If you like," was the answer.
He accordingly went over to the two boys, and asked them
upstairs to play with him, and all three ran together up
the palace stairs to the King's apartments.
The young King's birthday is always observed as a fes-
tival in the palace, and on his Saint's day, also, which is the
23d of January, there is always a grand reception. On this
day it is the custom to confer decorations on such public
functionaries as have merited them.
As a descendant of Queen Isabella there is something ap-
propriate in Alfonso having sent an exhibit — a small brass
cannon — to the great Fair in Chicago, at which he was the
youngest exhibitor.
It is fortunate for the young King and for the country
over which he is to rule that the important work of form-
ing his character and educating his heart has fallen to
a womau so admirably qualilied for the task as the Queen
.Regent.
Born on the 21st of July, 1858, Maria Cristina is now in
the early prime of life. Her appearance is distinguished and
majestic; her manners are simple and amiable. She has
a sound understanding and a cultivated mind, well stored
with varied information. She is of a serious disposition,
and is religious without bigotry, and good without alleeta-
tion. During the lifetime of King Alfonso, her husband,
she took no part whatever in politics, so that when she was
called upon to assume the important responsibilities of the
regency she was able to place herself above political par-
tie*, and to be the Queen of the nation. She has had the
good fortune, in the midst of her personal grief — for the
death of her husband, whom she loved devotedly, was a ter-
rilile blow to her — to win the good-will of the greater part
lift he Spanish people, and the respect of all by the wisdom
and discretion with which, through her ministers and ac-
cording to the constitution, she has governed the country.
She is exceedingly charitable, and delights especial ly in re-
lieving the wants of children ; she gives large sums to chil-
dren's aid societies. She educates at her own expense the
children of public functionaries who have been left in pov-
erty ; she is constantly taking upon herself the care of or-
phaned children, and no mother ever asks her help in vain.
"TAIL-PIECE." This title Hogarth, the celebrated Eng-
lish painter, gave to his last work. It is said that the idea
for it was first started when, in the company of his friends,
they sat around the table at his home. His guests had con-
sumed all of the eatables and et vii'lcra, and nothing re-
mained Imt the empty plates and glasses. Hogarth, glan-
cing over the table, sadly remarked, " My next undertaking
shall be the end of all things." "If that is the ease," re-
plied one of his friends, "your business will be finished,
for there will be an end of the painter." "There will be,"
answered Hogarth, sighing heavily.
The next day he started the picture, and he pushed ahead
rapidly, seemingly in fear of being unable to complete it.
(Grouped in an ingenious manner, he painted the following
list to represent the end of all things : a broken bottle ; the
lint-end of an old musket; an old broom worn to the stump;
abow unstrung; a crown tumbled to pieces; towers in ruins;
a cracked bell; the sign-post of an inn, called the " World's
End," falling down; the moon in her wane; a gibbet fall-
ing, the body gone, and the chains which held it dropping
down; the map of the globe burning; Phoebus and his horses
lying dead in the clouds; a vessel wrecked; Time with his
hour-glass and scythe broken ; a tobacco-pipe with the last
whift' of smoke going out; a play-hook opened, with the
e.rt'iint OIIIHCK stamped in the corner ; a statute of bankruptcy
taken out against nature; and an empty purse.
Hogarth reviewed this work with a sad and troubled
countenance. Alas! something lacks. Nothing is wanted
but this, and taking up his palette, he broke it. and the
brushes, and then with his pencil sketched the remains.
"Finis, 'tis done!" he cried. It is said that he never took
up the palette again, and a month later died.
M'
PEISCILLA.
ILES STANDISH was a fellow
Who understood quite well, oh,
In fighting with the redskins how to plan, plan, plan.
But I think him very silly
When he wished to woo 1'riscilla
To send another man, man, man.
For she said unto this other,
Whom she loved more than a brother,
"Why don't you speak, John Alden, for yourself, self,
self?"
So of course John Alden tarried,
And the fair Priscilla married,
And they laid poor Captain Standish on the shelf, shelf,
shelf.
CORPORAL FRED.
A Story of the Riots.
BY CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U.S.A.
CH A PTER I I.
% 17" HEN morning came, old Wallace's face had grown a
TT year older. Up to midnight he had hoped that bet-
ter counsels might prevail, and that the meetings called by
the leaders of kindred associations, such as the Trainmen's
Union, would result in refusal to sustain the striking
switchmen; but when midnight came, and no Jim, things
looked ominous. A sturdy, honest, hard-working fellow-
was Jim, devoted to his mother and sisters, and proud of
the little home built and paid for by their united efforts.
Content, happy, and hopeful, too. he seemed to be for sev-
eral years ; but of late he had spent much time attending
the meetings at Harmouie Hall and listening lo tin- ad-
dresses of certain semi-citizens, whose names and accent
alike declared their foreign descent, and whose mission \\ as
the preaching of a gospel of discord. Their griev ance « as
not that their hearers were hungry or in rugs, down-trod-
den or oppressed, but that the higher officials of the road
owned handsome homes and cijiiipages, and lived in a style
and luxury beyond the means of the honest toilers in the
lower ranks. Jim used to come home with a smile of cou-
766
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
tent as lie looked upon tlie happy healthful faces of his
mother and sisters, but for months past his talk had been
of the way the Williams people lived, how they rode in their
parlor car and went to the sea-shore every summer and to
the theatre or opera every night, drove to the Park in car-
riages, and hobnobbed with the .swells in town. " Why, I
knew Joe Williams when he was yard-master and no bigger
a man on the road than I am to-day," said Jim, ''and now
look at him." His mother laughingly bade him take com-
fort, then, from the contemplation of Williams's success.
If he could rise to sueli affluence, why shouldn't Jim '. Hi-
sides, Mr. Williams had married a wealthy woman. "Yes,
the daughter of another bloated bondholder,1' said Jim. A
year or two before they regarded it, one and all of them, as
no bad thing that there were men eager to buy the bonds
and meet the expense of extending the road ; but since the
advent of Messrs. Steinman and Frenzel, the orators of the
.Socialist propaganda, Jim had begun to develop a feeling
of antipathy towards all persons vaguely grouped in the
"capitalistic class."
He had long since joined the Brotherhood of Train-
men, having confidence in its benevolent and protec-
tive features. There was no actual coercion, yet all
seemed to find it to I heir best interest to belong to the
union, even though they merely paid the small dues and
rarely attended its mcci ings. These latter were usually
conducted by a class of men prevalent in all circles of so-
ciety, fellows ofsome gift for speech-making or debate. The
quiet, thoughtful, and conservative randy spoke, and more
frequently differed than agreed with the speakers, but all
tb rough the year the nice lings hail become more t nil HI lent
and excited,aud little by little men who had been content
and willing wage-workers became infected with the theo-
rjea ^o glibly expounded by the speakers. They were the
bone and sinew of the great corporation; why should not
they be rolling in wealth they won rather than seeing u
lavished on the favored few, their employers ? The only
way for working-men to get their fair percentage of the
profits, said these leaders, was to strike and stick together,
for the men of one union to "back" those of another, and
then success was sure. Called from his home to a meeting
of the trainmen, Jim Wallace was one of the five hundred
of his brethren to decide whether or no they too should
strike in support of their fellows, the switchmen, demand-
ing not. only tin- restoration of the discharged freight-
handlers, but now also that of Stoltz. Old Wallace had
firmly told him No; they had no case. But by midnight
the trainmen bad said Yes.
An hour after midnight, anxious and unable to sleep, tin-
father had stolen quietly up into the boys' room. Jim's bed
was unoccupied ; but over on the other side lay Corporal
Fred, his duties early completed, sleeping placidly and
well. With two exceptions, all the companies of his regi-
ment were made up of men who lived in the heart of the
city. The two junior companies." L" and " M," hail been
raised in the western suburb, and as many as a dozen
\ omig fellows living almost as far west as the great freight-
yards were members of these.' According to the system
adopted in some- of the Eastern States, each company was
divided into squads, so that in the event of sudden need
for their services the summons could be quickly made.
Every man's residence and place of work or business were
duly recorded. Each Lieutenant had two sergeants to aid
him, each sergeant, two corporals; and immediately on
receipt, of notification, it was the business of each corporal
to bustle around and convey the order to the seven men
comprising his squad. By ten o'clock on the previous
evening Fred Wallace had seen and notified every one of
his party, and then, returning home, had gone straightway
to bed. "There won't be much sleep after we're called
out," said he, " so now is my time."
It would have been well for all his comrades had they
followed his example, but one or two of the weak-headed
among them could uot resist the temptation of going to the
freight - yards to see how matters were progressing, and
there, boy like, telling their acquaintances among the silent,
Bloomy knots of striking railway men, that they too, "the
(.iiiards," were ordered out. It was not strictly true, but
young men and many old ones rejoice in making a state-
ment as sensational as possible. It would not surprise or
excite a striker to say " we've received orders to be in readi-
ness." It did excite them not a little when Billy Foster
told them in so many words. •• S,i\ . we've got our orders,
and you fellows 'II have to look out."
' "There need be no resort to violence," said the leaders.
" We can win at a walk. The managers have simply got to
come down as soon as they see we're in earnest." And at
ten o'clock at night the striking switchmen, many of them
ill at ease, had been waiting to see the prophesied "come
down" which was to be the immediate result of the tie-
up. What the leaders failed to mention to their followers
as worthy of consideration was that superintendents, yard-
masters, conductors, engineers, brakemen, and firemen, one
and all had risen from the bottom, and could throw switches
just as well as those. en)pl<>\ ed for no other purpose. It w as
inconvenient, of course. It meant slow work at the start,
but so far from being paralyzed, as the leaders predicted,
the officials went to work with a vim. Silk-hatted man-
,-i^ers. Kid -gloved superintendents, and " dude - collared"
clerks were down in the train-shed swinging lanterns and
handling switches, and so it had resulted that all the night
express trains of the five companies using the (Jreat West-
ern tracks, one after another, slowly, cautiously, but surely
had threaded the maze of green and red lights, and safely
steamed over the four miles of shining steel rails between
the Union depot in the heart of the city and t liesc outlying
freight - yards, and, only an hour or so behind time, had
flaunted their long rows of brilliantly lighted plate-glass
windows in the sullen faces of the striking operatives, and
then gone whistling merrily away to their several destina-
tions over the dim, starlit prairies. The managers were
only spurred, not paralyzed.
"We'll win yet, "said Stoltz, in a furious harangue to a
thousand hearers, one-tenth of them, only, rail way employes,
the others being recruited from the tramps, the ne'er-do-
weels, the unemployed and the criminal classes, ever lurk-
ing about a great city. " The managers cannot play switch-
men more than one night, and no men they hire dare at-
tempt to work in your places — if you're the men I take you
to be. Now I'm going to the trainmen's meeting to de-
mand their aid." And go he did, with the result already
indicated.
Half an hour after midnight, despite the protests of the
old and experienced men, the resolution to strike went
through with a yell, anil when the dawn came, faint and
pallid in the eastern sky, and the myriad switch-lights iu
the dark, silent yards began to grow blear and dim, there
stood the long rows of freight cars doubly fettered now,
for not only were there m> switchmen to make lip the trains,
there were no crews to man them and take them to their
destination. Jim Wallace had struck with the rest.
It was two o'clock when at last the father heard the
heavy footfalls of his first-born on the wooden walk with-
out. There he seemed to pause for some few words in low
tone with a, companion who had walked home with him
from the yards. Old Wallace, going to the door to meet his
son, heard these words as the other turned away. "And
you tell Fred what I say. I'm a friend of yours, and al-
ways have been, but the boys won't stand any nonsense.
It'll be the worst for him if he don't quit that militia busi-
ness at once, and if he don't, he won't be the only one to
suffer."
" Who is that ?" demauded old Wallace, stepping prompt-
ly out from his front door. " WTho threatens my son or my
people .'"
The stranger had stepped away into the shade of an
ailantns-tree before he answered. Jim Wallace stood iu
in ly silence, confused by his father's suddeu appearance,
and ashamed that such menace as this against him and his
should have been spoken without instant rebuke. "What
I said was meant in all friendship to you and yours. Mr.
Wallace. You don't, know me, but I know yon," said the
stranger, with marked foreign accent, but, in civil tone. " I
want to avert trouble from your roof if I can, and i here I ore
told Jim to get Fred out of that tin-soldier connection. No
sou of yours ought to be used in the intimidation of hon-
767
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
'WHO THREATENS MY SON AND MY PEOPLE?" DEMANDED OLD WALLACE.
est workingmeu who only seek their rights, and if be is
wise he'll quit it now and at once."
"No son of mine shall be intimidated from doing a sworn
duty by any such threats a.s yours," said Wallace, with ris-
ing wrath; "and if that's the game you play I'm ashamed
to think that son of mine has had anything to do with you.
Who are you, anyway? What do you mean by coming
round 'intimidating honest workingmen,' as yon say, at
this hour of the night? You're no trainman. Man and
boy I've known the hands on this road nearly forty years,
and I never thought to see the day when rank outsiders
could come in and turn them against one another as you
have. Who are yon, I say ?"
"Never mind who I am, Mr. Wallace. I speak what I
know, and my voice is that of ten thousand working — or
more than working — thinking men. If you're wise you'll
see to it that this is the last, time your boy carries orders to
his fellows to turn out against us, for that's what he has
done. If you don't, somebody may have to do it for you."
"That isn't all!" shouted the old Scotchman, as the
other turned away, " and you hear this here and now. My
voice is that of ten million law-abiding people, high and
low, rich and poor, and it says my boys shall stand by their
duty, the one to his employers, the other to his regiment,
you and your threats to the contrary notwithstanding.
You haven't struck, have you, Jim ?" he asked, turning iu
deep anxiety to his silent, crestfallen son.
And for all answer Jim simply shrugged his broad shoul-
ders and made a deprecatory gesture with his brown, hairy
hand, then turned slowly into the little hallway, and went
heavily to his room. At breakfast-time he was gone.
Fred came bounding in at half past six, alert and eager,
yet with grave concern on his keen young face. "I've been
the length of the yards," he said, "and I'm hungry as a
wolf, mother. They say they're going to block the incom-
ing trains, and prevent others going out. Big crowds are
gathering already, and I shouldn't be surprised if we were
ordered on duty this very day. Where's Jim ?"
"He got up and dressed after you went out, Fred," was
the reply. "He said
he wanted no break-
fast. Father has
gone early to the
shops. He thought
he might meet you."
"Well, I'll stop
there to see him on
my way to the office.
I've got to see Mr.
Manners first thing
about getting off if
the call comes."
"I hope he'll say
no," said Jessie Wal-
lace, promptly. She
was the younger,
prettier sister, and
the more impulsive.
" You thought the
regiment beautiful
on Memorial day,
Jess, and were glad
enough to go and see
the parade," said
Fred, with a mouth
nearly full of por-
ridge.
"That's different.
I like the band, and
the plumes and uni-
forms, and parading
and drilling, but I
don't want yon to
be shot or stoned or
abused the way the
other regiment was
at the mines last
spring."
"Well, there's where you and Manners don't agree. He
objects to my belonging because of the parades and drills
and summer camp, says it's all vanity, foolishness, and that
only popinjays want to wear uniforms. I guess he'd be
glad enough to have us in line if a mob should make a
break for the works, but I own I'm worried about what
he'll say to-day."
And Fred might well be worried. Dense throngs of ex-
cited men were gathered along the yards as he wended his
way to the works after a few words with his father at the
gloomy shop. An engine with some flat cars had come out
with newly employed men to man the switches. Engineer,
firemen, and the newly employed had to flee for their lives,
and the assistant-superintendent was being carried to the
emergency hospital in a police patrol wagon. Nobody was
being carried to the police station. "There'll be worse for
the next load that comes," shouted Stoltz from the side-
walk, and a storm of jeers and yells was the applauding
answer. These sounds were still ringing iu young Wallace's
ears when he came before the manager. Mr. Manners
turned round in his chair when Fred told him of his orders
of the night before.
" Wallace," said he, "I told you last month that no man
could serve two masters. We can't afford to employ young
ineu who at any time may be called out to go parading
with a lot of tin soldiers."
"This isn't parade, sir; It's business. It's protecting
life and property."
" Fudge !" said Manners ; " let the police attend to that —
or the regulars. It's their business. If you leave your
desk on any such ridiculous orders you leave it for good."
And at four o'clock that afternoon, towards the close of
a day filled with wild rumors of riot, bloodshed, and de-
struction, a young man in the neat service dress of a ser-
geant of infantry — blue blouse and trousers, and tan-colored
felt hat and leggings — walked in to Corporal Fred's office
with a written slip in his hand, and Corporal Fred walked
(int.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
768
OAKLEIGH.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS D E L A X D.
CHAPTER V I.
JACK and Neal entered into partnership in the poultry
business.
"You see, I sha'n't have a cent of my owii until I am
twenty-live," explained Neal, "and my old grandmother
left most of the cash to Hessie. She had some crazy old-
fashioned notions about men being able to work for their
living, but women couldn't. It's all a mistake. Nowadays
women can work just as well as men, if riot better. Be-
sides, they marry, and their husbands ought to support
them. Now, what am I going to do when I marry ?"
Cynthia, who was present at this discussion, gave a little
laugh. "Are you thinking of taking this important strp
very soon? Perhaps you will have time to earn a little
first. Chickens may help you. Or you might choose a
wife who will work — you say womeu do it better than
men — and she will be pleased to support yod, I have no
doubt."
They were on the river, tied up under an overhanging
tree. Cynthia, who had been paddling, sat in the steru of
the canoe ; the boys were stretched in the bottom. It was
a warm, lazy-feeling day for all but Cynthia. The boys
had been taking their ease and allowing her to do the
work, which she was always quite willing to do.
"I'll tell you how it is," continued Neal, ignoring Cyn-
thia's sarcasm. "I'll have a tidy little sum when I am
twenty-five, and until then Hessie is to make me an allow-
ance and pay my school and college expenses. She's pretty
good about it — about giving me extras now and then, I
mean — but you sort of hate to be always nagging at a girl
for money. It was a rum way of doing the thing, anyhow,
making me dependent on her. I wish my grandmother
hadn't been such a hoot-owl."
Cynthia looked at him reprovingly. "You are terribly
disrespectful," she said, "and I think you needn't make
such a fuss. You're pretty lucky to have such a sister as
mamma."
"Oh, Hessie might be worse, I don't deny. It's immense
to hear you great girls call her 'mamma,' though. I never
thought to see Hessie marry a widower with a lot of chil-
dren. What was she thinking of, anyway ?"
" Well, you are polite ! She was probably thinking what,
a very nice man my father is, "returned Cynthia, loftily.
" He is a pretty good fellow. So far I haven't found him
a bad sort of brother-in-law. I don't know how it will be
when I put in my demand for a bigger allowance in the
fall. I have an idea he could be pretty stiff on those occa--
sions. But that's why I waut to go into the poultry busi-
ness."
"And I don't mind having you," said Jack. "Sharing
the profits is sharing the expense, and so far I've seen more
expense than profit. However, when they begin to lay
and we send the eggs to market, then the money will pour
in. I say we don't do anything but sell eggs. It would
be an awful bore to get broilers ready for market. By-the-
way, I think we had better go back now and finish up that
brooder we were making."
"Oh, no hurry," said Neal. "It won't take three min-
utes to do that, and it's jolly out here. It's the coolest
place I've been in to-day. Let's talk some more about the
poultry business. We'll call ourselves 'Franklin & Gor-
don, Oakleigh Poultry Farm.' That will look dandy ou
the bill-heads. And we'll make a specialty of those pure
white eggs. I say, Cynthia, what are you grinning at 1"
"I am not grinning. I am not a Cheshire cat."
" I don't know. I've already felt your claws once or
twice. But you've got something1 funny in your head.
The corners of your mouth are twitching, and your eyes are
dancing like — like the river."
Cynthia cast up her blue eyes in mock admiration.
"YOU ARE A PERFECT DEAR!" SHE WHISPERED.
769
•EVERYTHING IS NICER SINCE YOU CAME."
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"Hear! bear! He grows poetical. But as you are so ver.y
anxious to know what I am 'grinning' at," she added, de-
murely, "I'll tell you. I was only thinking of a little
proverb I have heard. It had something to do with count-
ing chickens before they are hatched.''
"Oh, come off!" exclaimed Jack, while Neal laughed
good-naturedly.
"And I've also a suggestion to make," went on Cynthia.
" From what I have gathered .during onr short acquaint-
ance, I think Mr. Neal Gordon isn't over-fond of exerting
himself. I think it would be a good idea, Jack, when you
sign your partnership papers, or whatever they are, to put
in something about dividing the work as well as the ex-
pense and the profits."
'• There go your claws again," said Neal. " Let's change
the subject by trying to catch a ' lucky-bug." " And he
made a grab towards the myriads of insects that were dart-
ing hither and thither on the surface of the water. "I'll
give a prize — this fiue new silver quarter to the one who
catches a ' lucky-bug.' ''
He laid the money on the thwart of the boat and made
another dash.
" When you have lived on the river as long as I have
you'll know that 'lucky -bugs' can't be caught," said Cyn-
thia. " Now see what yon have done, you silly boy!"
For with Neal's last effort the quarter had flown from
the canoe aud sunk with a splash iu the river.
" Good-by, quarter!" sang Neal. "I might find you if I
thought it would pay to get wet for the likes of you."
" If that is the way you treat quarters, I don't wonder
you think your allowance isn't big enough," said Cyuthia,
severely ; " aud may I ask you a question ?"
" You may ask a dozen ; but the thiug is, will I answer
them ?"
"You will if I ask them. Were you ever in a canoe
before?"
"A desire to crush you tempts me to say 'yea,' but a
stern regard for truth compels me to answer 'nay.'"
" You couldn't crush me if you tried for a week, aud you
couldn't make me believe yon had ever been iu acauoe be-
fore, for your actions show yon haveu't. People that have
spent their time on yachts aud sail-boats think they can go
prancing about in a canoe and catch all the lucky-bugs
they want. When you have upset us all you will stop
prancing, I suppose."
" Claws again," groaned Neal, iu exaggerated despair.
" I say, Cynth, let's go back and put him to work on
that brooder," said Jack, who had been enjoying this spar-
ring-match. " We'll see what work we can get out of
him."
And, notwithstanding his remonstrances, Neal was pad-
dled home aud put to work. Cynthia's "claws" did take
effect, aud for the first time in his life he began to feel a
little ashamed of being so lazy.
Jack was one of the plodding kind. His mind was not
as brilliant as Neal's, nor his tongue as ready, but at the
end of the year he would have more to show than Neal
Gordon.
Mrs. Franklin carried out her plan of inviting their
friends to the "hatching bee," and Thursday was the day
on which the chicks were expected to come out. As the
morning wore on Cynthia's excitement grew more and more
intense, aud all the family shared it.
" What shall we do if they dou't come out !" she exclaim-
ed a dozen times.
At one o'clock a crack was discovered in one of the eggs
in the "thermometer row." At three it was a decided
break, and several others could be seen. Cynthia declared
that she heard a chirping, but it was very faint.
Mi's. Franklin remained upstairs to receive the guests,
who came down as soon as they arrived. There were about
a dozen girls and boys. Fortunately the cellar was -large
ami airy, aud the coolest place to be found on this warm
summer day.
And presently the fun began. Pop ! pop ! went one egg
after another, aud out came a little struggling chick, which
in due time floundered across the other eggs or the desert-
ed egg-shells, and flopped dowu to the gravel beneath on
the lower floor of the machine. It was funny to see them,
and, as they gradually recovered from their efforts, and
their feathers dried off, the little downy balls crowded at
the front, and, chirping loudly, pecked at the glass.
Mrs. Franklin joined them now and then, and at hist,
when about seventy chicks had been hatched, she insisted
upon all coming np-stairs for a breath of fresh air before
supper.
Here a surprise awaited them. Unknown to her daugh-
ters Mrs. Franklin had given orders that the supper-table
should be arranged upon the lawn iu the shade of the house,
aud when Edith stepped out on the piazza she paused in
astonishment.
What terrible innovation into the manners and customs
of Oakleigh was this ? Last year, for a little party the
children gave, she had wanted tea ou the lawn, but it could
not be accomplished. How had the new-comer managed
to do it ?
" Isn't this too lovely!" cried Gertrude Morgan, enthu-
siastically, turning to Edith. " My dear, I think you are
the luckiest girl I ever knew, to have any one give you
such a surprise. Didn't you really know a thing about it ?"
"I have been consulted about nothing," returned Edith,
stiffly. She would have liked to run upstairs and hide,
out of sight of the whole affair.
" I hope you like the effect, Edith," said Mrs. Franklin,
coining up to her as she stood on the piazza step. " I
thought it would be great fun to surprise you."
•' I detest surprises of all kinds," replied Edith, turning
away, " and it seems to me I have had nothing else
lately."
Much disappointed and greatly hurt, Mrs. Frauklin was
about to speak again, but at this moment Cynthia, enchant-
ed with the success of the hatch, aud with the pretty sight
ou the lawn, rushed up to her step-mother aud squeezed
her arm.
"You are a perfect dear!" she whispered. "Everything
is nicer since you came. Even the chickens came out for
you, aud last time it was so dreadful." And Mrs. Franklin
smiled again and felt comforted.
The table was decorated with roses and lovely ferns,
strewn here aud there with apparent carelessness, but really
after much earnest study of effects. Bowls of great uu-
hulled strawberries added their touch of color, as did the
generous slices of golden sponge-cake. The dainty china
and glass gleamed in the afternoon light, aud the artistic
arrangement added not a little to the already good appe-
tites of the boys aud girls.
Fortunately Oakleigh was equal to any emergency iu
the eating line, aud as rapidly as the piles of three-cornered
sandwiches, fairylike rolls, and other goodies disappeared
the dishes were replenished as if by magic.
After supper the piano was rolled over to the front win-
dow in the long parlor.
" Put it close to the window," said Mrs. Franklin, " and I
will sit outside, like the eldest daughter in The I'eterkins,
to play. That will give me the air, and you can hear the
music better."
They dauced on the lawn and played games to the
music; then they gathered on the porch and sang college
songs, while the sun sank at the end of the long summer
day, aud the stars came twinkling out, aud by-aud-by the
full moon rose over the tree-tops aud flooded them with
her light.
Altogether, Jack's second " hatching bee " was a suc-
cess. A good time, a good supper, and, best of all, one
hundred aud forty chickens. Yes, it really seemed as if
poultry were going to pay, aud "Franklin & Gordon," of
the Oakleigh Poultry Farm, weut to bed quite elated with
prosperity.
The next morning at breakfast they were discussing the
matter, and Mr. Franklin expressed his unqualified approval
of the scheme.
"If you succeed in raising your chickens, now that they
are hatched, Jack, my boy, I think you are all right. You
owe Aunt Betsey a debt of thanks. By-the-way, where is
Aunt Betsey ? Have you heard from her lately ?"
There was no answer. Jack exploded into a laugh
770
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
which he quickly repressed, Edith looked very solemn,
while Cynthia had the appearance of being on the verge
of tears.
"I want to see Aunt Betsey,'' said Mrs. Franklin, as she
Imttered a roll for Willy. "I think she must be a very
interesting character."
"It is very extraordinary that we have heard nothing
from her," went on Jlr. Franklin. '' What can be the mean-
ing of it ? When was she last here, Edith ?"
" In Jinn1
"Was it when I was at home? Hasn't she been here
since the time she gave, Jack the money for the incuba-
tor ;"
"That was in May. You were in Albany when she was
here tin- hist time."
"It. is very strange that she has never written nor come
to see you, Hester. It can't be that she is offended with
something, can it? I must take you up to Way borough
to see the dear old lady. I am very foud of Aunt lirtsrx,
and I would not hurt her feelings for the world."
There was a pause, and then into the silence came Janet's
shrill tones :
"I know why Aunt Betsey's feelings are hurted. They
was turribly hurted. Edith an' Cynthia an' Jack all knows
too.''
"Janet, hush!" interposed Edith.
•• Not at all ; let the child speak," said her father.
" What do you know, Janet?"
•• Aunt Betsey came, an' she went to see Mrs. Parker, an'
Mrs. Parker said she'd been there before an' Aunt Betsey
said she hadn't, an' it wasn't Aunt Betsey at all, it was
Cynthia dressed up like her, an' Aunt Betsey said we was
all naughty "cause we didn't want the bride to conic, an'
the bride was mamma, an' we didn't want her, it was the
trnfe, an' Aunt Betsey went ott" mad 'cause Cynthia dressed
up like her. She wouldn't stay all night, she just went oft'
slam-bang hopping mad."
"What does the child mean!" exclaimed her father.
" Will some one explain ? Edith, what was the trouble ?"
"I would rather not say, "said Edith, her eyes fastened
cm her plate.
" That is no way to speak to your father. Answer me."
"Papa, I cannot. It is not my affair."
" It is your affair. I insist."
" Wait, John," interposed Mrs. Franklin.
" Not at all ; I can't wait. Edith was here in charge of
the family. Something happened to offend Aunt Betsey.
Now she must explain what it was. I hold her responsible."
"Indeed she's not, papa," said Cynthia, at last finding
her voice. "Edith is not to blame; I am the one. I
found Aunt Betsey's false front, and I dressed up and looked
exactly like her, and Jack drove me to see Mrs. Parker.
Edith didn't want me to go, but I would do it. Keally,
papa, Edith isn't a bit to blame. And then when Aunt
Betsey came soon afterwards she went to see Mrs. Parker,
and she didn't like it because she said she had been there
two weeks ago and told her — I mean, Mrs. Parker told me
abon t —
Cynthia stopped abruptly.
" Well, go on," said her father, impatiently.
Still Cynthia said nothing.
"Cynthia, will you continue? If not —
"Oh yes, papa ; though — but — well, Mrs. Parker told me
that yon were going to marry again. And then when
Aunt Betsey really went, Mrs. Parker said, 'I told yon' so.'
Aunt Betsey didn't like that, and when she asked ns if she
had been here, of course we had to say no, and she was go-
ing right back to tell Mrs. Parker what we said ; so I had
to confess, and, of course, Aunt Betsey didn't like it, and
she went right home that day."
Mr. Franklin pushed back his chair from the table, and
began to walk up and down.
"I am perfectly astonished at your doing such a thing,
and more astonished still that Edith —
" Papa, please don't say another word about Edith. She
didn't want me to go, and I would do it."
" Why have yon not told me all this before ?"
"Because, you see, I couldn't. I had heard that you
were going to bo married, anil 1 didn't believe it until you
told me ; at least —
Cynthia paused and grew uncomfortably red.
"Poor chihl!" said Mrs. Franklin, smiling at her sympa-
thetically. "It must have been very hard for you."
" It was," said Cynthia, simply; " only you know,mamma,
I don't feel a bit so now. And then when you came home,
papa, it was all so exciting I forgot about it, and I have
only thought of it once in a while, and — well, I've been
afraid to tell you," she added, honestly.
"I should think so! I am glad you have the grace to
be ashamed of yourself, Cynthia. Has no apology gone to
Aunt Betsey .'"
"No, papa."
"It is outrageous. The only thing to do is to go there
at once. Jack, get the Pathfinder."
The Pathfinder, boon of New England households, was
brought, and Mr. Franklin studied the trains for Way-
borougli.
" Hester, you had better come too. It is only proper
that I should take you to call on Aunt Betsey. Get ready
now, and we will go for the day."
The Franklins were quite accustomed to these sudden
decisions on the part of their father, and Mrs. Franklin did
not demur. She and Cynthia hurried off to make ready,
and the carriage was ordered to take them to the station.
Cynthia's preparations did not take long. Her sailor-
hat perched sadly on one side, her hair tied with a faded
him; ribbon, one of the cuffs of her shirt-waist fastened
with a pin. All this Edith took in at a glance.
" ( '\ nthia, you look like a guy."
"I guess I am one."
"Don't be so terribly Yankee as to say 'guess.'"
" I am a Yankee, so why shouldn't I talk like one ? Oh,
Edith, what do I care about ribbons and sleeve-buttons
when I have to go and apologize to Aunt Betsey."
Kdith was supplying the deficiencies in her sister's toilet.
"It is too bad. Janet ought not to have told. But it
is just like everything else — all Mrs. Franklin's fault."
"Edith, what do yon mean? Mamma did not make
Janet tell ; she tried to stop papa."
"I know she appeared to. But if papa had not married
again would this ever have happened? You would not
have heard at Mrs. Parker's that he was going to, Mrs.
Parker wouldn't have said 'I told you so' to Aunt Betsey,
Aunt Betsey wouldn't have found out yon were there —
"Edith, what a goose you are! Any other time you
would scold me for having done it, and I know I deserve
it. Now yon are putting all the blame on mamma. You
are terribly unjust."
''There, now, you have turned against me, all because
of Mrs. Franklin. I declare it is too bad !"
"Oh, Edith, I do wonder when you will rind out what
a lovely woman mamma is! Of course you will have to
some day ; yon can't help it. There, they are calling, and
I must run ! Good-by."
Hastily kissing her sister, Cynthia ran off.
Neal had much enjoyed the scene at the breakfast-table.
He only wished that he had been present when Cynthia
impersonated her aunt. It must have been immense. He
wished that he could go also to Wayborough, but he was
not invited to join the party. He was to be left alone for
the day with Edith, for Mr. Franklin had decided that
Jack should accompany them, to thank Aunt Betsey once
more, and to tell her himself of the success of the hatch.
"I'll have to step round pretty lively, then," said Jack.
"Those birds must get to the brooders before I go. Come
along, Neal. It's an awful bore having to go to Waybor-
ough the very first day. You'll have to look after the
chicks, and don't you forget it."
The chickens safely housed, and the family gone, Neal
prepared to enjoy the day. He had made up his mind
to see something of Edith, and he had no idea of working
by himself, especially as there was no absolute necessity
for it,
"The day is too hot for work, anyhow," he said to him-
self.
[TO BE CONTINCED.]
771
STORIES OF OUR GOVERNHENT.
THE PRESIDENT'S CABINET.
BY THE HONORABLE THEODORE ROOSEVELT.
TIIHE executive business of the national government is
_L divided into eight departments, and the heads of
these eight departments are known as Cabinet officers, and
form the President's Cabinet.
It often happens that we use the same name that is used
in Eugland for an officer or an institution, which is not,
however, quite the same, aud is sometimes widely different,
and we must always be on our guard not to be confused by
such seeming similarity. This is true in our political life,
just as it is true in our sports. For instance, we could not
get an international match between Harvard, Yale, or
Princeton, and Oxford or Cambridge on the football field,
because, although football is played at all of them, yet the
game in the American colleges is so different from that-
played iu the English universities that it would be impos-
sible to have Americau aud English teams meet on the
same ground, any more than we could put a baseball nine
against a cricket eleven. It is just the same way in our
politics. The Senate is sometimes spoken of as corres-
ponding to the House of Lords ; but they really have few
points of resemblance, save that they are both second
chambers. So the Speaker of the House of Representatives
is sometimes spoken of as if his position corresponded to
that of Speaker of the House of Commons. This is not
true at all. The Speaker of the House of Commons is,
properly, merely a moderator, like the moderator of a New
England town meeting, and his duty is to preside and keep
order, but not to be a Speaker, iu our sense of the word, at
all, not to give any utterance to party policy. In the
American House, on the contrary, the Speaker is the great
party leader, who is second iu power and influence only to
the President himself. The functions of the two officers
have nothing iu common, save iu the mere presiding over
the deliberations of the body itself.
So in England the cabinet officers are all legislators,
exactly as the Prime Minister, their chief, aud they are
elected by separate constituencies just as he is. In Amer-
ica the cabinet officers are not legislators at all, and have
no voice in legislation. Instead of beiug elected by their
own constituencies, they are appointed by the President,
and he is directly responsible for them. It is upon his
THE CABINET-ROOM
Cabinet officers that the President has to rely for informa-
tion as to what action to take, in ordinary cases, and lie
has to trust to them to see the actual executive business
of the government well performed.
The chief of them all is the Secretary of State. At the
Cabinet meetings he sits on the right hand of the Presi-
dent. He would take the President's place should both the
President and the Vice-President die. It is he who shapes
or advises the shaping of our foreign policy, and who has
to deal with our ministers aud consuls abroad. He does
not have nearly as much work to do, under ordinary cir-
cumstances, as several other Cabinet officers; but whereas
if they blunder it is only a question of internal affairs, and
is a blunder that we ourselves can remedy, if the Secretary
of State blunders it may involve the whole nation in war,
or may involve the surrender of rights which ought never
to be given up save through war. Questions of grave
difficulty with foreign powers continually arise : now about
fisheries or sealing rights with Great Britain, now about an
island in the Pacific with Germany, now about some Cuban
lilibnsterinu; expedition with Spain, and again with some
South-American or Asiatic power over insults offered to our
flag, or outrages committed on our citizens. Allot" these ques-
tious come before the Secretary of State, and it is his duty
to digest them thoroughly, and advise the President of the
proper course to take iu the matter. The Secretary of State
very largely holds iu his hands the national honor.
Next iu importance to the Secretary of State comes the
Secretary of the Treasury. The great economic questions
which the country always has to face are those connected
with the currency and the tariff', and the Secretary of the
Treasury has to deal with both. On his policy it largely
depends whether the business of our merchants is to shrink
or grow, whether the workiugmen in our factories shall see
their wages increase or lessen, whether our debts shall be
paid in money that is worth more or less than when they
were contracted, or in money that is worth practically the
same. I do not uieau by this to say for a moment that the
Secretary of the Treasury, or any other official, can do any-
thing like as much for the prosperity of any class or of any
individual as that class or individual can do for itself or
himself. Iu the end it is each man's in-
dividual capacity aud efforts which count
for most. No legislation can make any
mau permanently prosperous ; and the
worst evil we caii do is to persuade a
man to trust to anything save his own
powers aud dogged perseverance. Nev-
ertheless, the Secretary of the Treasury
can shape a policy which will do great
good or great harm to our industries ; and,
moreover, he has to work out the finan-
cial and tariff' policies which he tiiiuks
the President aud the party leaders de-
mand. The position is therefore one of
the utmost importance.
The Postmaster - General has to deal
with more offices than auy other official,
for he lias to control .ill the post-offices
of the United States. He is the great ad-
ministrative officer of the country. Un-
fortunately, under our stupid spoils sys-
tem, postmasters are appointed merely for
political reasons, aud are changed with
every change of party, no matter what
their services to the community have
been. This is a very silly and very brutal
practice, and all friends of honest govern-
ment are striving to overthrow it by
bringing in the policy of civil service re-
form. Under this all these postmasters
will be appointed purely because they
will make good postmasters, and will ren-
772
.1. D. Mm ton, ARN
H. Smith, Interior
J. G. Carlisle, Treasury. H. Herbert, Navy. R. Oiney, State.
A MEETING OF THE CABINET.
D. Lainont, War.
der faithful service to the people of their districts, and
they will be kept so long as they do reiuler it, and no lon-
ger.
The Secretary ol'the Interior lias to deal with the disposal
anil management of the great masses of lands we have in
the West, aud also he has to deal with the management. «f
the Indians, and with the administration of the pension
laws. All three are most difficult problems, and their so-
lution demands the utmost care, patriotism, and intelli-
gence.
The Attorney-General is the law officer of the govern-
ment. He sees to the execution of the Federal laws
throughout the country, auU appoints his agents to do this
work in every district of every State, and he also advises
the President and heads of departments on all legal mat-
ters.
The Secretary of Agriculture is a man of mixed duties.
A good many bureaus of one kind and another are under
his supervision, and most of the scientific work of the gov-
ernment is done under him. Some of the scientific bureaus,
however, are under other departments. The work done
by these scientific bureaus, as by the coast survey and the
geological survey, and by the zoologists in the department,
lias been of the very highest value, and has won cordial rec-
ognition from all European countries. Much of the work
of the early scientific explorers in the West reads like a
veritable romance; and this governmental work has added
enormoiislv to our knowledge in all branches of science,
from the natural history of mammals and birds, to the ge-
ological formation of mountains, aud the contour of the
coasts.
The remaining two officers are the Secretary of the Navy
and the Secretary of War. The Secretary of the Navy,
again, occupies a most important position, for upon the
navy depends to a very great extent the nation's power of
protecting its citizens abroad, and of enforcing the respect
to which it is entitled. Most fortunately for the last ten
or twelve years the secretaries of the navy have done ad-
mirable work. Each has built on the good work of his pre-
decessor, so that we are gradually getting our navy to a
pitch where it can worthily uphold the honor and dignity
of the American nag.
The Secretary of War is an officer whose duties are usu-
ally not very important, as he has comparatively little of
consequence to do during time of peace, but is perhaps
the most important officer of the Cabinet, with the sole ex-
ception of the Secretary of State, whenever a war arises. He
has all kinds of work to do even in peace, however. Thus
during the last two or three years the experiment has been
tried on a large scale of working the Indians in as soldiers;
and although hitherto this experiment has not had the
success its promoters anticipated, yet good has been ob-
tained by it. But when war conies, the Secretary, _if not a
powerful man, will be crushed helplessly ; and if a power-
ful man, cau do great good for the country aud win a great
name for himself, for in war he stands as one of the supreme
officers, and upon his energy aud capacity depends much
of the success of the contest.
A strong President will usually make up his mind on
certain policies aud carry them out without regard to his
Cabinet, merely informing them that, their duty is to do the
work allotted to them; but except in the case of these few-
policies, to which the President is committed, and the
workings of which he thoroughly understands, he has to
rely on his advisers.
The necessary advice is given him in these Cabinet
meetings as well as privately. At these meetings the busi-
ness of the departments is'disenssed, and also all questions
of public policy of sufficient importance to make the Presi-
dent feel he would like advice about them. Of course the
importance of the questions thus discussed may vary much,
ranging between the adoption of a course of policy which
may force Great Britain into war with us on the one hand,
and on the other the abolition of the annual football games
between Annapolis and West Point. The average Cabinet,
officer has a great responsibility, and can exert a most
powerful influence for good or for evil throughout the en-
tire republic.
773
HARPER'S ROUND TAJ'.LE
^r^»i^TTg\jp
Thi« Departme.if is conducted in ih. inl,.i...i ..rcirls and Yonne W.inun, and llw EJilnr nil]
be plensed to answer any question oil the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should
ad.lrtss Editor.
YOU can tell uie nothing about it, girls, nothing that I
do not perfectly understand when yon confide to me
that yon find vacation days rather slow of pace. Jenny
Lucille spent last year in college, studying hard, and under
high pressure from her entrance as a Freshman till the day
she passed her examinations triumphantly, and was ready
to begin her work as a Sophomore. It was due to her
parents, who were making a great sacrifice in sending her
from home, that she should do her best, and be an honor
and credit to them, and being a girl of acute sensitiveness
am! much devotion to duty, Jenny would have been inca-
pable of wasting her time. Then it is, after the first feeling
of homesickness wears oft', a gay and exciting world, this
college world where so many young women are gathered,
where there are sports and games and pleasant social even-
ings, and the feeling that something worth while is hap-
pening every day. The time flies, especially the last half
of the last term, and at last, when there is a breaking-np,
and the girls separate and take their different ways for
borne, notwithstanding their gladness that they are going
to meet their dear home people, tears fill many eyes, and
overflow furtively, and wet dainty handkerchiefs, and not
till the train or the boat is fairly otf are the faces quite
bright again.
WELL, home is reached, and home is sweet. How kind
and hearty the father's greeting, how loving the mother's
word and look, how much the children have grown, how
nice it is to be in one's own room again, and to sit in one's
own old seat at the dear home table ! But after a little, if
the household be a quiet one, and the village or town a
place in which little goes on, the girl is vexed to find her-
self a wee bit blue. She wouldn't let anybody divine it;
she shakes herself, and calls herself names in private, but
she has to tight to be cheerful, and now and then she sits
down and. writes a long letter to her chum, and indulges in
a good comfortable cry, with nobody to guess that she is
not entirely contented, as indeed all sensible people would
say she ought to be. The chniii at Bar Harbor or Put-iu-
Bay, or some nook in the White or Green or Blue Moun-
tains, some perch in the Rockies, or springs, or beach, or
other gay resort, has had no time to be bine, and lier letter
back will be a complete contrast to Jenny's.
Now, my dear Jenny, listen to me ! This fit of low spirits
will pass presently, and you will be none the worse for
it, if yon will just credit, it to the account of reaction.
Take hold of whatever work there is to do in the house, the
harder the better, and do it with both hands. Read an en-
tertaining book, not a study book, but a bright story, the
novel people are talking about, or else the novel of yester-
day, which you have always felt yon ought to read, but have
not yet had time to attack in earnest. Hawthorne, Wilkie
Collins, Thackeray, Dickens, choose your author and your
book, and float oft' into the life of imagination, which cheats
the life of the actual of so much of its pain.
WHATEVER else you do, resolutely speak brightly and
look cheerful. The brave effort to be bright aud cheerful
on the outside braces up the inside wonderfully, soul aud
body, as you know, being such inseparable partners.
WEATHER INDICATIONS.
IF you can't afl'ord a barometer to tell yon what kind of
Weather you are going to have, perhaps the following
old proverbs will prove of use in helping you to prophesy
as to whether it will rain to-morrow or not :
If spiders in spinning their webs make the termination
filaments long, we may, in proportion to the length, con-
clude that the weather will be serene, and continue so for
ten or twelve days.
If many gnats are seen in the spring. expect a fine au-
tumn; if gnats lly in compact bodies in the beams of the
setting sun, there will be fine weather.
If the garden spiders break and destroy their webs and
creep away, expect rain or showery weather.
If sheep, rams, aud goats spring around in the meadows.
and fight more than usual, expect rain.
If cattle leave oft' feeding, and chase each other around
the pastures, rain.
If cats back their bodies and wash their faces, rain.
If foxes and dogs howl and bark more than usual, if
dogs grow sleepy and dull, rain.
If moles cast up hills, rain.
If horses stretch out their necks and sniff the air aud as-
semble in the corner of a field with their heads to leeward,
rai n .
If rats and mice be restless, rain.
If peacocks and guinea fowls scream, and turkeys gobble,
and if quails make more noise than usual, rain.
If the sea birds lly toward land, and laud birds toward
the sea, rain.
If the cock crows mine than usual, and earlier, expect
rain.
If swallows fly lower than usual, expect rain.
If bats flutter and beetles fly about, there will be line
weather.
If birds in general pick their feathers, wash themselves,
and fly to their nests, rain.
Some of the queerest miscellaneous quips received are to
the effect that:
If there are no falling stars to be seen on a bright summer
evening, you may look for fine weather.
If there be many falling stars on a clear evening in sum-
mer, there will be thunder.
A rainbow in the morning is the shepherd's warning.
If fish bite more readily, and gambol near the surface of
the ponds and streams, then look out for rain.
If porpoises and whales sport about ships, expect a hur-
ricane.
The best proverb of all, however, is the following coup-
let:
A coming storm your toes anil teeth presage ;
Your corns will ache, your hollow molars rage.
I
f
HOW TO MAKE A HERBARIUM.
BY CAROLINE A. CREEVEY.
A YOUNG lady who was a great lover of wild flowers
once brought me a number of pressed specimens to
name. They were carefully pressed, lint were loosely laid
between the pages of a magazine. Among them were sev-
eral choice plants, one or two of the rarer orchids, and n
ginseng that I had never found. In handling them tin-
leaves and flower petals had become broken.
"Your specimens are being ruined," I said. "Why do
you not gum them each on a separate piece of paper and
lay them in a box? Y'on have here an excellent begin-
ning for a herbarium."
"Oh dear, no!" she said. "I never could take tin-
trouble to make a herbarium. I don't care for the ling-
ers after I know what they are. Y'ou may have them all,
aud welcome.''
She had doubtless seen the longing look in my eyes. I
was generous, however, and tried to persuade my friend ti>
774
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
treasure her own flowers, \\ hieh slie had been at some pains
to press, assuring her that the herbarium did certainly pay
for its trouble, and that unless she were a collector she
would fail of becoming a real botanist. My arguments
had no ett'ect, and I fell heir to my friend's specimens.
Another time a lady (a member of a botanical club) said
to me: "I don't care to make a collection. I would as
soon look at hay as dried plants. What I want to study
is lifintf nature."
This sounds like a fine sentiment, and if the herbarium
were to take the place of out-door study, we would better
burn our entire collection.
Here are the questions, then : How will the herbarium
help us in our study of flowers ? and Why is it not better to
confine our study to "living nature"?
We cannot deny that the herbarium is a matter of time
and trouble; but nothing worth having can be acquired
without trouble. There is a lever which lightens all tasks
wonderfully. That lever is enthusiasm. If you are en-
thusiastic about anything, you will be pretty sure to suc-
ceed, whether that thing bo music, drawing, or even arith-
metic. This is especially true of nature studies. The suc-
cessful student of insects, birds, flowers, shells, or rocks
must love his work with a passionate ardor, He must al-
most be a man with a hobby.
Now perhaps you will say, •' I have not this enthusiasm,
and therefore I shall not be successful." Let me tell you
a secret. Nature herself inspires enthusiasm. You have
but to work iu any one of her departments, and you will
learn to adore her. She is like a story-book. The first
few pages, and especially the preface, are somewhat dry.
Rut pretty soon, as the story opens up, you can hardly leave
it for your meals or your sleep.
The principal value of a herbarium is that one has it
always on hand for reference when the living flower can-
not be -studied. After the summer comes winter. My
young lady who threw away her flowers forgot their names
during the winter. She could not help forgetting some of
them, for the botanical names of flowers are often hard to
learn, being composed of Latin or Greek words, or of prop-
er names with Latin terminations; and sometimes it
would seem that the smaller and more unpretentious the
plant the longer and more jaw-breaking its name.
When early spring conies, one can make a point of re-
viewing his herbarium and refreshing one's memory, so as
to begiu where he left off last fall. Thus each season's
work is clear gain. The very labor necessary to make a
herbarium impresses the flower and its peculiarities vivid-
ly upon the memory. If you handle and linger over your
flowers, they will seem to you like pets whose sweet faces
you cannot forget.
You want your herbarium, then, for reference, just as you
need au encyclopaedia in your library. You want it when
the snow is on the ground and there is no " living nature "
iu the flower realm to study.
Every page of the herbarium should look neat and pretty.
In order to secure this result you must first know how to
press your flowers. A flower once wilted can never be
made to look nice on paper. It is therefore necessary to
keep fresh the specimen you wish to preserve. You might
carry a large book, and shut your flowers in it as soon as
plucked. But that would be inconvenient. A better way
is to buy a botany box and carry it with you iu all your
walks. You never know when you may find some new
thing. The box is of tin, opening on one side, and it may
hang by straps from your shoulder. If you lay a little wet
moss inside, and close the door every time you lay in a
flower, your plants will keep fresh iu their cool dark nest
for three or four days.
To press them tear up newspapers into uniform sizes.
Newspapers are porous, and absorb the moisture from plant
stems and leaves better than brown wrapping-paper. In-
sert several leaves of the newspaper between the single
flowers. When all are ready, place the whole pile between
two boards, the same size as the papers (any carpenter will
cut them for yon), and lay the whole under a heavy weight,
like a trunk or pile of large books. Once a day look over
your plants, and put those not quite pressed into cleau dry
papers. The papers already used, unless badly stained, can
be spread out, dried, and used agnin. The problem is how
to dry the plant quickly and thoroughly. The quicker it
is dried the better it retains its colors. The petals will
fade, but careful pressing will make them look very well,
not at all like hay. If the plant be taken out of its press
too soon its leaves will wrinkle. Some delicate plants » ill
dry iu twenty-four hours' time, others take three or four
days, or even a week.
Have ready sheets of nice white paper. These you can
get a printer to cut for yon of uniform size. The regula-
tion size is 17 by 11 inches. If the specimen be too long for
the paper, bend the stem once or twice. A botanical speci-
men should include the whole stalk down to the root, un-
less, like some of the taller sunflowers, it be quite too long
for the page. Place only one, specimen on a page, and
fasten it iu several places with narrow strips of gummed
paper. Last fall I had a bright idea. After the election I
collected a number of unused ballot pasters. From these
next summer I shall cut blank strips, already gummed, and
I shall moisten them with a wet camel's-hair brush, and
use them for my herbarium. Large leaves will stay down
better if a drop of mucilage be placed in their centre.
When the stern is very heavy I sew it with double thread
tied on the under side, or I cut two small slits in my paper,
and slip the stem through. As fast as sheets are prepared,
leave them under a large book till the mucilage is dry. The
page is then ready for labelling. Write now in the lower
right-hand corner your own name, the botanical and com-
mon name of the flower, where and when found; or yon
can get labels with your name printed on them, which you
can paste on the bottom of your page.
HERBARIUM OF J. BKOWN.
Caltha palustris
(Marsh- Mar I go Id).
IN MARBU NKAR BiintGP.rcMiT, MAY 3, 1694.
The papers belonging to the same family should now
be placed inside of family covers, made of still brown paper,
and these again should be inclosed in a box. I use the
boxes iu which tailors send my husband's shirts and suits
of clothes. On the cover of the box write the families
which it contains. That plan facilitates finding any par-
ticular specimen. Certain families, as ferns and orchids,
go well together; mints and iigworts are allied. Compo-
site should have a box to themselves, and the species
should be gathered into genus covers.
The botany gives directions for poisoning plants, if you
are likely to be troubled with insects. Many of my mounted
specimens are ten or twelve years old, yet I have never had
any such annoyance. Therefore I do not poison my plants.
I always use mucilage. Perhaps flour paste or starch
would afford food for insects.
It is pleasant to keep a flower calendar as part of the
herbarium. Procure a diary, and note the day when you
first find certain flowers. This, if kept several successive
years, will show interesting variations of season, and of the
time of the flowering of the same plants.
For study of trees keep a leaf album. I know of no
other way to learn the many species of oak and maple.
The herbarium is never a finished book. Each year, as
you visit different parts of the country, you will add to its
beautiful pages. You may well show it to your friends
with pride. It is an achievement, a monument of your in-
dustry, and proof of your knowledge. To yourself it will
be a source of never-ending pleasure. Here a leaf will
recall a visit to a friend, a trip to the mountains, or a
month at the sea-side. This flown- suggests a picnic, or a
shady walk, or mountain stroll with choice companions.
Turn to the herbarium on a day iu January, when the
wind and snow are having a merry dauce outside, and \ou
will see visions of sweet woods, fresh fields, and blooming
wild flowers, biding their time, but sure to come again.
775
5.
S. A. W. BALTAZZI.
8.
THE KUXN'IXG HIGH JUMP IX DETAIL.
From instantaneous photographs of Mr. Bultazzi jumping.
776
7.
1INTERSCHOEASTIC
THE PICTURES ON THE OPPOSITE PAGE are reproductions
of instantaneous photographs taken especially for this
Department of HARPER'S ROUND TABLE. They clearly
show the exact position and form of an athlete at the va-
rious stages of action in the running high jump, and a
careful study of them will prove of great usefulness to any
one desirous of perfecting himself in this particular branch
of out-door athletics. The striking feature of the series
is that it proves that a man practically steps over the bar
with one stride, instead of flying over it in a compact bunch
as he appears to do wheu watched by the naked eye. But
before describing the jump itself, it will be best to give
certain general directions about the necessary lay-out, and
a few points on preliminary work.
IN THE FIRST PLACE, no one should start in to train for
this event until after he is eleven or twelve years old. In
fact, it is safe to say that no boy under this age ought ever
to go into any kind of systematic athletic work, for his ambi-
tion is liable to lead him to injurious over-exertion. Don't
do any high-jumping in the winter mouths ; for running on
a hard board floor is not a good thing, and yon are apt to
slip and get injured. If you want to take up jumping as a
specialty, spend the winter, or the in-door season, in pulling
weights so as to strengthen the back and chest, and in go-
ing through leg motions to fortify the limbs. No one can
ever succeed as a high-jumper unless he has a well-devel-
oped chest and back. As will be seen later on, the strain
on the dorsal muscles is practically what lifts the man over
the bar. This sounds very much like lifting one's self up
by the boot - straps, but it is nevertheless correct. The
leg exercises are simple. There are two kinds. One is to
lift yourself up on your toes. Start in by doing it about
twenty-five times every day for a week ; then increase the
number until you get up to about three hundred times.
An expert high-jumper can lift himself five hundred times
without great fatigue. The second exercise is the "frog
motion." This consists of placing the heels near together
aud of squatting and rising. Do this a few times only, to
start with, and gradually bring yourself to the hundreds.
Exercise the chest, as I have said before, with weights and
dumbbells. Strengthen the back by bending over with
the legs stiff, the arms thrown out in front until the finger-
tips touch the floor easily.
THE JUMPING COSTUME should consist of a jersey suit
rather than of a linen blouse and trousers, because the
knit goods cling to the form aud keep the muscles warm.
The trousers should never reach the knees, which have to
be kept free. The feet are encased in shoes made of kan-
garoo-skin, laced in front like running shoes, and are worn
without socks. The left shoe is made several ounces hea-
vier than the right, and is about twice as heavy as a
sprinter's foot-wear. The heel is made of quarter-inch
sole leather, and has two spikes. Some men jump with
one spike in the middle of the heel, but this is very bad,
because when the jumper alights his heel bone pounds on
the spike and soon raises a stone bruise. If you have two
spikes fixed at the extremities of diagonals drawn through
the centre of the heel this bruising is easily avoided. There
are no spikes on the heel of the right shoe, but the heel
itself is made slightly thicker. In the toes of both shoes
there should be six spikes.
A GREAT MANY ATHLETES who have gone in for high
jumping have abandoned the sport after a few weeks of
training because of sore heels. They should remember
that the heel must be toughened as well as the other mus-
cles, but as soon as it begins to feel sore, rest until it is
in good condition again. A good way to avoid soreness
of the heel and ankle is to keep that part of the foot thick-
ly painted with iodine all the time. Keep the ankle ab-
solutely black for several months, until the muscles there
have become so tough aud strong that there is no danger
of straining or bruising. For the leg muscles, rubbing
with alcohol is good, but do not resort to this too fre-
quently. Aud in order to have the leg muscles in the best
of condition, do not indulge in the frog motion and other
exercises for a week or two previous to a match.
FOR PRACTICE THE JUMPER should have two square posts
about two inches thick, made of almost any kind of wood,
and bored with holes one inch apart np to five feet eight
inches, aud half an inch apart above that. The pegs should
be three inches long, and the bar, made of pine, should be
about twelve feet long and one inch square. The posts
are placed eight feet apart, and it is usual to hang a
handkerchief over the centre of the crossbar, so that it can
be seen better. A jumper must alirays keep his eye on the
bar from the time he starts to run until he lands safely on
the other side. The runway should be eight feet wide and
about forty feet long. It should be made of cinders, well
rolled, aud ought to be kept dampened so as to make it
springy. Beyond the posts the earth should be turned
over aud raked, so as to make a soft landing-place.
THERE is NO RULE about how far off from the bar a
jumper should start to run. The nearer the better, because
less power is then wasted on the approach. In No. 1 the
jumper has just started. He takes an easy gait at first,
with his eye fixed on the bar, and he regulates his speed
and his step so as to come to the "take-off" with his left
foot. In jumping all the work is done with the left foot.
A good way for a beginner to determine how far from the
bar to take-off is to stand before it on one foot aud lift the
other until he can touch the cross-piece with his toes. He
takes - off as far back as he can thus place one foot and
touch the bar with the other. This distance from the base
line between the posts to the take-off is usually equal to
the height of the bar from the ground.
As THE JUMPER APPROACHES the bar he runs as fast as
he can, and in picture No. 2 he reaches the take-off with his
left foot. His heel strikes first (as may clearly be seen
from the heavy mark underneath it), and gives the power
for the jump. The toe merely gives direction to the mo-
tion imparted by the heel and the big shin muscle which
connects with the heel. The leap has now begun, aud with
the right foot rising the jumper begins to sail over the bar.
His line of travel is a perfect semicircle, beginning at the
take-off, and ending in the soft ground on the other side at
exactly the same distance from the base-line of the posts.
No. 3 shows him still rising from the ground, his right foot
giving the direction of the leap. The muscles of the arms
and back are now just coming into play to raise the torso
and the left leg — and all the time the eye is firmly fixed on
the bar. In No. 4 the right foot is just passing over the
handkerchief, and the arms and back are seen straining with
the exertion of bringing up the left leg. Notice that muscle
of the neck. It connects with the muscles of the side aud
abdomen, and these harden like steel to force the quick mo-
tion that has to be made to lift that side of the body. The
strain on this neck muscle and the working of the back aud
arms are even better displayed in Xo. ">. where the left leg is
almost up, and is about to clear the bar. Considerable
practice is required for this motion, because it has to be
777
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
done very quickly. The left foot has to be brought iu very
close to the right thigh, and yet the sharp spikes must be
kept from tearing the flesh. Note how the eye is con-
stantly on the bar.
IN THE NEXT PICTURE, No. 8, the bar has been cleared,
the whole body is over, and the right leg has dropped. It
is now no more used, except as a balance to the body, the
entire work of the jump, as before stated, being done with
the left leg. The jumper's eye is still fixed on the bar, and
not until he is well over it, as shown in No. 7, does he re-
.move his gaze. As he clears the stick his back muscles
give a twist to his flying form, and his right arm thrown
G. B. FEARING'S FORM IN HIGH JUMPING.
into the air aids him in turning, so that he will fall facing
the bar. The left leg has now passed the right, and is
making ready to sustain the weight of the body on land-
ing, while the right is thrust slightly backward to sustain
a proper equilibrium. The strain on the back and arms is
relaxed. In No. 8 he is just about to land, and the camera
has given us a beautiful display of the looseness of the arm
muscles, showing the right arm still in the air and a.bontto
drop as soon as the feet strike the ground. The body is
lying along the curve of the semicircle through which the
jump has been made.
THE BAR IN ALL THESE PICTURES was at 5 ft. 8 in., and
each photograph necessitated a separate jump. This alone
is enough to show in what excellent form the young athlete
worked, for a kinetoscope could not have caught his sepa-
rate actions in one leap to better effect than these photo-
graphs have shown them in eight different leaps. The
ninth picture is a portrait of the clever young athlete, who
is shown iu action in all the others. He is S. A. W. Bal-
tazzi, of the Harvard School of this city, who holds the in-
terscholastic high-jumping record not only of the N.Y.I.S.
A. A., but of the United States. At the Interscholastics
last May he cleared 5 ft. 11 in., but since then he has cov-
ered 0 ft. in practice, and I have no doubt that he will de-
feat the Englishman who is coining over to represent the
I. iiiidon Athletic Club at the international games this fall.
Baltazzi is seventeen years old, and weighs 135 pounds. He
began jumping while at St. Paul's School, Garden City, in
1891, and won first in a school competition with 4 ft. 9 iu.
At the school games of 1892 he took first, with a jump of
5 ft. $iu., and iu 189:?, as a member of the Harvard School,
he established the in-door scholastic record of 5 ft. 3£ in.,
at the Berkeley School winter games. The following year,
at the same games, he raised the record to 5 ft. 6| in., and
subsequently took lirst in the Wilson ami Kellogg games
with a jump of 5 ft. 5 in. At the Interscholastics of 1894,
lialtaz/.i and Rogers tied for first place at 5 ft. 9 in., break-
ing Fearing's Interscholastic record of 5 ft. 8i in. In Sep-
tember of that year he won first at Travers Island, jumping
5 ft. 7 in., and later in the winter he took first in the Bar-
nard games with 5 ft. 8 in. Having taken first in the
Berkeley, Poly. Prep., and Columbia College handicap
games of 1895, he lifted the Interscholastic mark up to
~< ft. 11 in. at the Berkeley Oval in May. The following
week, at the Inter-city games, he cleared 5 ft. 10| in., and
took lirst at the N.Y.A.C. spring games with the same figure.
Balta/.iii expects to enter Columbia College this fall; and
if he does, there are five points sure for the New-Yorkers at
Mutt Haven for some years to come.
TIIK PICTURE PRINTED ON THIS PAGE is a reproduction of
a photograph taken of G. B. Fearing, the Harvard high
jumper, in 1892. Fearing held the record of the N.Y.
I.S.A.A. until Rogers and Baltazzi broke it in 1894. His
form was entirely different from Baltazzi's. As he clears
the bar in this picture, both his feet appear to be curled
ii]i under his body, and his head is thrown forward and
down. He seems to be almost reclining on his side,
whereas Baltazzi makes the leap with his body practically
perpendicular, although he necessarily bends forward in
the motion which lifts the torso over the stick. Feariug's
form as displayed in this photograph does not give the
same idea of power and assurance as that shown by Baltaz/.i.
THE PROSPECTS FOR RECORD-BREAKING in the N.Y.I.S. A.A.
next year are not very bright, for most of the record-break-
ers are leaving school, lie-sides Baltazzi, Tappin. the mile
runner of Cutler's winning team, will go to Columbia.
Yale will get Meehan, who is a clever half-miler, Ayres,
the hammer-and-shot man of Condon's, Powell, the bicy-
cli.st. and Ilackett, the mile walker. The first three in this
last group hold United States interscholastic records in
their events. Princeton's track team will no doubt secure
three of Barnard's best athletes, Syme, Simpson, and Moore,
whereas Harvard will only get one good man from the
N.Y.I.S.A.A., Irwin-Mart.in. Cowperthwaitc, broad jumper,
and Beers, who holds the high hurdling record, will also
leave school for college. This will make room for new
men. and ought to be a. good thing for the association.
A CORRESPONDENT SUGGESTS that the schools of New
York — and I don't see why it would not be just as good an
idea for schools of other cities — hold an interscholastic
bicycle meet this fall. At first thought this sounds like a
very good scheme. There are few scholars, comparatively,
•who are strong enough, or who have the inclination to
play football, and now that use of the bicycle has become
so universal these could devote the fall season to prepar-
ation for a bicycle contest. Far he it from my intention
to suggest to even the weakest football-player that he give
up the gridiron for the bicycle; but I have seen so many
young men standing around football fields watching the
game, with no ability or desire to participate in it. that I
weli-iime the suggestion of making the autumn a bicycle
season too.
IT is VEKY PROBABLE that the inter-collegiate association
will do away with bicycles at the Mott Haven games next
spring. If they do, the iuterscholastic associations will no
doubt follow suit, and then the wheelmen will find them-
selves, to a certain extent, out of it, if they have not already
prepared for separate contests. It is right that bir\. le
events should be excluded from track and I'n-ld meetings,
because a running track is not the proper place for a bicycle
race. Bicycle races, however, ought not to be given up en-
tirely or left to professionals, because such racing is pro-
ductive of good sport. The best course to pursue under
the circumstances, then, is to have a meet especially for
bicyclists. I am sure there are enough wheelmen iu the
schools to make it worth while, and the fall season with
HAEPEE'S ROUND TABLE
cold days and bracing air is .just the time
for sucli sport.
IF A BICYCLE FIELD DAY cannot be gotten
up this fall, there is no reason why there
should not be an Intel-scholastic road race.
The executive committee of the N.Y.I.S.A.A.
could easily arrange such a contest, and
olt'cr a pennant to the winning school. Let
each school of the association enter two
riders, and let the managers of the race
adopt a course. This can be easily done by
looking over the back numbers of HARPER'S
ROUND TABLE, and choosing :t good road
from one of the many bicycle maps of the
vicinity of New York that have recently
been printed. This would be a novelty in
the way of school contests, in this section
at least, although it is quite a common
event with the California school associ-
ations. THE GRADUATE.
This Department is < «i,,Un it-.l iu tli* interest of stamp MM.I ,nm
collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on
these subjecta so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor
Stamp Department.
THIRTY years ago there were probably
fifty coin-collectors where there is one
to-day. As a consequence coins have now
little value unless they are, first, coins of
great rarity; or, second, scarce coins in ab-
solutely uncirculated condition, or "mint
state."
Dealers in coins whom I have questioned
say that there is very little demand, and
that in many instances they sell coins now
at a lower price than they would have paid
for them a generation ago. Further, if
coins could be sold as quickly as stamps,
they could afford to sell them at an even
lower price. As it is, the interest on the
capital locked up in stock and the cost of
doing business are so large, that they make
very little profit. The common obsolete
coins (except U. S.) are bought by the deal-
ers at the price of old metal. There is no
money iu collecting coin, but lots of fun.
Jos. GOT.IISMITH.— Tlie green 5c. Confederate unused
is sold by dealers at 50c. The value of common stumps
by the million depends on the assortment. I£ there
is a fair quantity of 1, 2, 3, 4. 5, 6, 8, 10, and 15c.,etc.,
they bring a good price. For Ic. and 2c only there is
little demand. Dealers' addresses are not given in tin's
column.
HKT.RN MAOKAY. — The used 3d. Canada unperforated
is quoted in catalogues at 20c. on wove paper, $1 on
laid paper, $1 50 on ribbed paper.
L. M. I. — The current bine special-delivery is printed
from the same dies as the previous blue, but the lines
have been deepened and two cross lines added under
the words TEN and CENTS.
WII.I.IK K. — No premium on the coins. The stamp
is the 3c. blue 1869 U. S.
G. TAKT.F.TON. — U. S. fractional currency has no value
beyond face unless it is absolutely uncirculated.
There ought to be a demand for these interesling war
relics, but practically there is none. Dealers sell them
at a small advance over face.
D. R. O'Sui.T.iVAN. — There is no premium on the
coins mentioned. Rare coins if worn by use have very
little value. Hiirh prices are paid for rare coins if in
" mint state," that is the condition w'aen the coins are
new and uncirculated.
A.E.BAKKON, Tarrytown, N. Y., wants to correspond
and trade with stamp-collectors. He has the begin-
ning of a good collection.
H. B. TUAW — The Bloods Penny Post is catalogued
at 50c. There are three varieties of the Bloods De-
spatch worth from 15c. to $4 each. The Adams Ex-
press is not a stamp. It is probably a trade-mark.
R.CRAIG. — State Revenues, as a rule, are collected
only in the State using them. General collectors do
not buy them, and consequently they are not cata-
logued.
A. LOWKOWSKY.— The letter-sheets will no longer be
made. There are eight main varieties— series 1, 2, 3, 4,
5, 6, 7, and the first issue without series number. They
are not classed as stamps, but as envelopes, and envel-
opes are not collected as generally as adhesive stamps.
I believe you can buy the $3, f4, and $5 Columbian
stamps at face from the Washington, B.C., Post-office.
R. G. HUGHES.— It is a Colombian revenue stamp.
These stamps are not generally collected except in
Colombia, and hence no value can be given. Your
sketch is admirably well done.
R. MOODY.— The stamp is the 3c. 1869 U. S.,and is
sold by dealers at 2c. The coin has no premium.
LEWIS E. B. — If the coins are in mint condition the
dealers will probably buy at a premium. If not un-
circulated they are worth face only.
L. KKNTON. —The coin and bank token do not com-
mand a premium.
P. B. EVANS.— The lOc. U. S. you mention is the 1861
issue if not grilled. If grilled it is the 1S6S issue. Your
questions as to values have been answered several
times in this column. You can get a late catalogue of
any dealer at a small price.
M. N. — If in mint condition the dealers will buy,
otherwise they are worth face only.
ROUBKT CEAIO.— Not worth more than face.
G. L. MUKPIIY.— Not generally collected in the U. S.,
hence no value can be quoted.
A. MITTEI..— The coin is probably the William III.
of England. The stamp is the current He. postage-
due.
A. BKB. — The unused U. S. and British North Ameri-
can Colonies stamps issued before 1865 are all ad-
vancing in price rapidly. The used stamps are also
advancing, but slowly.
J. WOLFKRT. — If the stamps you mention are in good
condition I would advise you to sell them by auction.
Rarities bring a higher price when all the big collectors
compete for them. Common stamps, on the other
hand, do not bring catalogue price at auction.
W. J. HOLBKOK. — The Mobile 5c. blue is quoted at
$7 50. If on the envelope do not take it off.
J. ADAMS. — The present $1 black U. S., it is said,
will soon be printed in another color. The Sc, with
triangular ornaments is on sale at many officrs. No
copies have yet been seen with the white-framed tri-
angular ornaments.
FEANK T.— Almost any dealer can supply you with
a complete set of the U. S. stamps (cancelled) show-
ing die varieties between 1870-lSSi It consists of the
Ic., 3c., 6c. , 7c., 10c., and 12c., and, counting shades,
numbers about twenty stamps. Prices vary.
M. C. WRIOUT.— The best way is to go to responsible
stamp-dealers, look over tlu-ir stock, and taUe no dam-
aged stamps at any price, however low.
ROUND TABLE.— I do not know to what " ISM penny"
you refer. The dimes have no premium.
S. T. Dot)T>.— Yes. The present issue of U. S. will
probably all be printed on water-marked paper.
PHILATDS.
War-time Memories.
My grandmamma is an old lady, and lived in At-
lanta, Ga ,at the time Sherman and his soldiers, on
their famous march to the sea, took possession
of that city. She buried her plate and valuables
under the house. Her husband was away in the
service of the Confederate Army, and she was left
alone with two or three little children.
One night two young officers came and knocked
on the door, demanding admittance, which she re-
fused. They grew angry and made some terrible
threats. Grandmamma had an army musket in the
house. She told them if they didn't desist she
would fire through the door at them. After some
further parley they left. But they returned the
next morning and told her she was the spunkiest
little woman they ever saw.
One day grandmamma received some fresh >ait-
sage from the country. Pivsentlyin entered a man
wearing the blue. He took those sausage and
stuffed his pockets full. On the table was a large
sugar-bowl, filled. He picked it up and carried it
away, dipping the raw sausage in the sugar and
eating it.
Finally, grandmamma obtained guards to protect
the house. One cold night one of the guards was
dozing in front of the fire when in stalked a huge
Indian. Planting himself iu front of the fire, he
began to act and talk in a shocking way. The
giiiird promptly ejected him.
Such were a few of the many experiences of my
grandmother during the "times that tried men's
souls,"
Correspondents wanted.
UMITILLA, FLA. HAKBT R. WHITCOMB.
On the La Viga Canal.
I will tell you about our big canal. La Viga. At
the park called the " Zocalo " one takes the tram.
After going through a good many dirty streets the
tram lands you at the " Embarcadero," a clean
spot, where you get into flat-boats that look like
barges. The first town you come to is called
Jamaica. Here there are lots of canoes filled with
vegetables, which are very cheap indeed. Along
the route you usually meet women in catioes sell-
ing tamales. These are made of corn boiled,
crushed, some " chile " added, and then the whole
put into cornhusks They are good eating. The
next t"\\ii V"ti come to is Santa Anita, where you
get off, if you wish, eat some tamales, and drink
some pulque. Leaving Santa Anita, you reach, a
little way out, what used to be floating gardens —
now delightful places for picnics.
CITY OF MKXICO. R. L. MILLER, JuN.
ADVERTISEMENTS.
Highest of all in Leavening Power. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Baking
Powder
AB&OLUTEEY PURE
HARPER'S NEW CATALOGUE,
Thoroughly revised, classified, and indexed, will be sent
by mail to any address on receipt of ten cents.
779
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, by Harper & Brotliei
780
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
|/ -^ \ O 0 O O O O
If BICYCLING
^J^*^ O O O O O O O
TPHE map this week shows the macadam-
_L ized and asphalted streets in Philadel-
phia and its vicinity; and for all bicycle-
riders who live near the Quaker City, or
who think of going there, this map \vill
prove of great value. It will be very
•easily seen that Philadelphia is eminently
adapted to bicycling. In the first place,
Broad Street runs from League Island en-
tirely through the city, and out to the Wil-
low Grove turnpike on the north. To get
in and out of Philadelphia either to the
i south or the north, therefore, one needs
but to take the shortest route to Broad
Street, which is kept in admirable condi-
tion. Furthermore, one can get with the
utmost ease to the river — i. e., the Delaware
— by turning from Broad Street either down
Chestnut, Walnut, Locust, Spruce, or Pine.
The Market Street ferry is perhaps best
reached by taking Chestnut Street, and then
turning a block north just before reaching
the river.
In making this map it has been found ad-
visable, for the better clearness of the re-
production, to omit a good many unimpor-
tant streets in the heart of the city. Every
I asphalted or macadamized street in Phila-
delphia is given, but in many cases other
streets are omitted, or every alternate street
is given. The wheelman who studies the map
I may very likely count a certain number of
blocks on the map to the place where he
wishes to go, and iu that case he would lie
somewhat mystified in making this map
agree with his count. Names are given in
I the case of macadam or asphalt streets, and
you have only to watch for those names on
the signs to find any place in the city and
to keep the situation before your eyes.
Within the next few weeks we intend
to publish certain of the best trips in the
vicinity of Philadelphia, and it will be im-
portant to study this map, in connection
•with those, to discover the best method of
getting out of the city in different direc-
tions. For example, to get out to Fair-
mount Park from the public buildings, run
north on Broad Street from the buildings
' to Spring Garden Street, thence turning left,
I proceed to or across the river — the Schuyl-
kill. In either case, turn to the right im-
! mediately before or after crossing, and the
run is direct to the park. By not crossing,
and following the river up through the
i park, you will come to the Wissahickon
I road. By crossing, and running out Bel-
[ mont Avenue, you get into Montgomery
j County, and so out of the city. German-
town may be reached by the Wissahickon
NOTE.— Map of New York city acphalted streets in
No. 8U9. Map of mnte from New York to Tarrytown
in No. 810 NV\v York to Stamford, Connecticut, in
No. Sll. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New
| Jersey from Hobokeu to Pine Brook in No. 813.
i Brooklyn in No. si 4. Brooklyn to Babylon in No.
815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816. Tarrytown
to Pou"hkeepsie in No. SIT. Poughkeepsie to Hud-
son in No. SIS. Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Tot-
tenville to Trenton in 820. Treuton to Philadelphia in
821.
road or by keeping straight to the north-
ward on Broad Street until yon reach Tioga
Street. Turning left into th:;;, you soon run
into the Chestnut Hill road, and can keep
to this until entering Germantown at School
Lane. All through Germantown, and out to
the north and westward there are beautiful
roads of macadam that it is a pleasure to
ride over.
TURNING IN THE OTHEIJ direction, the
rider, by bearing to the right into Rising
Sun Lane from Broad Street, will have a
clear course out of Philadelphia to the
northeastward. By turning right into Le-
high Avenue, and continuing over Belgian
block pavement to Kensington Avenue, he
will run into Frankford, which is the way
he has come from New York. The roads
out of Cauidem on the other side of the Del-
aware are clearly marked. Crossing the
Market Street ferry, yon go south by Broad-
way or north by Pea Shore road, and by
studying the map the rider will see where
are the best roads for reaching Essiugton,
Derby, Lansdowu, and Haverford on the
southwest.
SPEED.
ONE who has made a study of the suh-
ject states that the average rates of
speed attained by certain travelling things,
are as follows: A man walks three miles
an hour ; a horse trots seven ; steamboats
run eighteen ; sailing vessels make ten ;
slow rivers flow four; rapid rivers flow
seven ; storms move thirty-six ; hurricanes,
eighty ; a rifle ball, one thousand miles a
minute; sound, eleven hundred and forty-
three; light, ouo hundred aud ninety thou-
sand; electricity, two hundred aud eighty
thousand.
A GOOD CHILD
is usually healthy, and both conditions are developed
by use of proper food. The Gail Borden Eagle Brand
Condensed Milk is the best infant's food ; so easily
prepared that improper feeding IB inexcusable and un-
necessary. — [A tlv. ]
.A.D VKRTISB:; rviKNTS.
Go
SPECIAL.
Manufacturer's Sample Pieces
Fine Swiss, Nainsook, and
Cambric
EMBROIDERIES
33 ir; Under Regular Prices.
<J
NEW YORK.
781
61.
Waller Baker i Co. Limited
The Largest Manufacturer! of
PURE, HIGH GRADE
.COCOAS and CHOCOLATES
On this Continent, have received
HIGHEST AWARDS
from the great
Industrial and Food
,,.» EXPOSITIONS
* \ IN EUROPE AND AMERICA.
C *i u t ion '.
of the labels and wrappers on our
roods, consumer! should make sure
•hat our place of manufacture
namely, Dorchester, JUa».
> printed on each package.
SOLD BY GROCERS EVERYWHERE.
WALTER BAKER I CO. LTD. DORCHESTER, MASS.
COLUMBIA
QUALITY
always maintained.
Far more Columbia
bicycles than ever
this year. Far more
care that no imper-
fect Coltrmbias go
out.
$IOO for a Columbia
means $2OO of pleas-
ure and satisfaction.
Pope Manufacturing Co.
General Offices and Factories, Hartford, Conn,
BRANCH STORES: Boston, Ne-w York,
Chicago, Providence, Philadelphia,
Buffalo, Brooklyn, Baltimore, "Wash-
ington, San Francisco.
Stamps,
100 nil dif. Venezuela, (Jostu Rica, etc., only
10c.; 200 all dif.Huyli,Hawfiii,etc. .only 50c.
A g'ta wautedat50perct.com. List FREE!
€.A.Stegmami,2722Ead6Av.,St.Louis,Mo.
QTAMDQ I 1IO° filie »'"«d Victoria. Cape
OlnlYlru I H.. India, Japan, etc., witli fine St;
f G.
ly lOc. New 80 -p. Price-list free.
„. ...jH/A*at R»% commission. STANDARD
1'AMP CO.. 4 Nicholson Place, St. Louis. Mo. Old
S. and Confederate Stamps bought.
• WONDER CABINET FREE. MisfllnR Link
'" ule Peril'* Bottle, Pocket Camera, Lkteit
re Futile, Spook Photos, Book of Sleight of
aloguonf KM) Bargains for lOo. for postage.
JlNGERSOLLi BRO-, 05 Cortlondt Street H. T.
HARPER'S KIIIDIULS.
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HARPER'S MAGAZINE.. Postage Free, $4 00
HARPER'S WEEKLY 4 00
HARPER'* HAZAK 400
HABPER'S ROUND TABLE 2 00
Booksellers and Posfmastei-K uKuatlg receive tnibecrip-
tions. Subscriptions sent direct to the publishers should
be accompanied by Po&t-ojfice Money Order or Draff.
HARPER & BROTHERS, Franldin Square, N. J.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
A Good Natural History Morsel.
Vacation and moth-time come baud in hand the
first week in July. The boys of the neighborhood
corae yelling from school to eat supper and go to
bed to be up at six o'clock. At six o'clock around
comes a man with a leather pouch filled with car-
bon sticks. One bv one the boys, some on bicycles,
some on foot, begin to follow him. Let us suppose
we have joined the piocession. \Ve come to an
electric light. As the light is let down the boys
begin to jump up and down, yell, push, etc., to get
first pick.
The man takes a fine orush and quickly cleans
the globe. As the insects tall to the ground there
is a general scramble. We are lucky enough to
get a fine specimen of a Luna, and start for home
to save us from getting mobbed. One of the most
common of f.he large moths found in the globes is
the Luna (Attacus tuna). The spread of the wings
is from three to four inches. The general color is
a beautiful tint of green. The edges of tun lore
wings are brown, the streal; crossing the body.
There are four eye spots, one on each wing. A
white furry body and light golden antennas com-
plete the colors of this beautiful, delicate moth.
Another of the beautiful moths is the Cecropia
(Atftirus cecropid). The general color is a beautiful
brown, and the usual eye spots are prevalent. The
Io (tiad/rnia lo) is a rival of the Luna in beauty. It
is of a deep yellow with purplish-red markings and
the usual eye spots. The Attacus Prometheus and
Polyphemous moths are occasionally found in the
globe. The most common victims are the Sphinx
moths who have a very long name, Macrnscla
guinyuemaculata.
SFBINGFIKLD, MASS. ALBERT W. ATTVATER, R.T K.
Facts About Alaskan Indians
Some time since. Sir Knight James F. Rudgers,
of Tiffin, Ohio, wrote us: "A man gave an illus-
trated lecture on Alaska at our school-house. He
said, ' That when a girl arrives at the age of four-
teen she is taken to the mountains and confined
in a house for one year ; when a girl arrives at the
age of eighteen her parents put a wooden button
in her lower lip ; that the people worship the white
cn>w.1 Are these statements true?"
In reply, Mr. O.T. Mason, Curator of the Depart-
ment of Ethnology in the National Museum, Wash-
ington, very kindly says: " I take special pleasure
in answering the inquiries of James F. Rodgers, of
Tiffin, Ohio. He may have misunderstood the lect-
urer somewhat, and, therefore, without character-
izing it, say. first, that among all savage tribes in
the world there is a custom of separating young
women when they come to be of marriageable age.
These customs differ from tribe to tribe, and the
length of time of their separation varies. There
are no high mountains in Alaska, and one year
seems to be rather a long period, yet the general
fact remains ; secondly, a button of wood, or ivory,
or stone, called a labret, is placed in the lower lip
of girls, in some tribes of boys, in other of both.
Among the Eskimo and the Indians of Alaska, as
the child grows older and the orifice becomes en-
larged, a stone or block of wood of greater and
greater size is inserted, until I have seen a block at
least 2X inches in diameter taken from the lip of
an old woman. The Botocudos of South America,
on the Amazon, are especially curious in this re-
gard, for they not only insert enormous blocks in
their lips, but also in the lobe of the ear, until it
falls upon the shoulder; thirdly. as to the worship
of the Alaskan natives, it should be said that there
are two kinds of natives in Alaska — Eskimo and
Indians. The Eskimo have one sort of primitive
religion, the Indians quite another sort. It d<»es
not convey exactly the right idea to us that the
natives worship anything, certainly it is very far
from the truth to say that anybody in Alaska wor-
ships the white crow.
"The Indians of Alaska, like the other Indians of
America, are divided up in their tribal relations
into bands or clans called 'Totems, 'and these are
generally named after some prominent animal of
the region. Gn-ar. ivsp^ <_-r U puid to rlu-sp animals,
and frequently the dan refrains from eating the
whole or a portion of the totemiu animal. It is a
very interesting study. I cannot find out Th;it ih«-
Eskimos have any definite names for the objects of
which thej stand in awe. They have among them
a class of men called ' Sbammans,1 who believe
in spirits and ^ractise certain rules for the influ-
encing and controlling these spirits. The same
worship is common all over Siberia and northern
Europe. None of these people have an organized
form of worship. Such a thing would be impossi-
ble iu a country so forlorn and cold."
© ikiafts. o
No. 90.— BEN BOLT. (A FEW VERSION.)
THIRTY PnopEn NAMES CONCEALED.
O don't you remember old Sally, Ben Bolt,
Old Sally whose hair was so red.
Her matutinal cry of "Buy any shad?"
Racked our ears till we wished we were dead.
In a small back yard off the alley, Ben Bolt,
The miserly fish-wife of yore
Sits nursing her hord, while she counts once again
Tbe same sheckles she counted before.
O don't you remember the streamlet, Ben Bolt,
Where the boys that played hookey from school
Sat snug on the banks eating taffy and pie,
Or bathed in the clear crystal pool.
But next day, perhaps, you remember, Ben Bolt,
We would fain for a bed negotiate,
Our respective papas had the evening before
Plied the rod at so lively a rate.
O don't you remember our teacher, Ben Bolt,
The man so averse to all tun?
No ham bone or sparerib sent up to our rooms
But he sniffed it and took it away.
Near the church rouud the coruer they've laid
him at last.
Where the willows 'n sympathy wave,
And the mocking-bird, chorister meet for a Czar,
Gently warbles a dirge o'er his grave.
No. 91. — PECULIAR WORD SQtrARC.
1 10 11 2
4 * * 3
5 * * 6
8 9 12 7
1 to 2 is exalted reputation.
3 to 4 is one of tbe surfaces of a solid.
5 to 6 is a strain sung by a single voice.
7 to 8 is to repose or recline from labor.
1 to 8 is a snug abode.
9 to 10 is a summer drink extensively used.
11 to 13 is equivalent to 330 rods.
1 to 2 is a well-known and beautiful flower.
LYONS. M. BEEJIAN STOUT.
Answers to Kinks.
No. 89.
1. "Elm."— Holmes.
S. "Chestnut."— Holmes.
3. " Norway pines ; larches." — Phebe Cary.
4. "Chestnuts." — Holmes.
5. "Spice-trees." — Holmes.
6. " Pine-tree."* — Whittier.
7. "Pines." — Paul Hamilton Hayne.
8. "Piue-trees; oaks."— J. T. Trowbridge.
9. "Willow."— Holmes.
10. "Pine; elm."— Holmes.
11. "Hemlock." — Holmes.
12. " Hemlock. - tree ; hemlock -tree. "—Longfel-
low.
*
Rabbits and Water
Victor Gage wanted to know the experience of
others who have kept rabbits. I have kept them
for the last five years. I find that they will not
drink water if you feed them on clover, grass, cab-
bage, lettuce, turnip tops, and other green plants.
There is always a little dew on this food. If there
is much dew, they will get enough water to last
them all day, and often for three or four days. On
the other hand, if you feed them on dry food, such
as hay, oats, corn, stale bread, and other dry things,
they will generally drink water about two or three
times a week, and sometimes every day.
I keep my rabbits in a house somewhat like the
one Mr. Chase illustrated in the Round Table some
weeks ago. \Vhpii it rains and the rabbits are
thirsty, they will lick the drops of rain as they run
down the wire netting. I think that if Mr. Gage
782
feeds his rabbits on the dry food mentioned for
lour or five days and then give them water, he will
be convinced that rabbits do drink.
CONCOKD, N. H. LION GARDINER.
Questions anfc answers.
Vincent V. M. Beede, East Orange, N. J., asks
some members to describe some less common
games of dominoes, and tell the origin of tbe game
croquet. Let's have them iu tbe form of morsels
lor printing. L. V. Riddle, 13 Roanoke Avenue,
Jamaica Plain, Boston, Mass., is interested iu bot-
any, and wants to hear from Albert W. Atwater
aiid all young naturalists and botanists. Ralph
Cain, 1041 Santa Fe Street, Atchison, Kan., thinks
it would be a capital idea to form an electri-
cian Chapter about tbe Table, and would like to
have other members join him. He hopes to be-
come an electrical engineer — an excellent direction
for one's ambition just now, we think, for electric-
ity is to be the motive power of tbe future far
more than it is now. Knights of to-day who reach
their threescore and ten iu due time will see steam
supplanted by it on our railways. Sir Kalph will
find Callaud cells, duplicated for strength, the bat-
tery most used for sustained power. The arc
light is the result of frictional not chemical elec-
tricity.
W. D. S. : What Is the simplest and cheapest
foim of electric battery depends upon tbe use for
which the battery is needed. Electricians use the
blue-stone for telegraph or closed-circuit work ;
sal-ammoniac or Leclanche and other open-circuit
uatteries for electric bells and burglar-alarms;
acid batteries, such as Grenet, Bunseu, and others,
for electro-plating, and dry batteries for medical
use. The cost is from SI 50 to $5 per cell. Books
on electricity are divided into subjects. For in-
stance, Ayrton's Practical Electricity is a series of
lectures lor students, $2 50, while Muver's work,
at $3 50, treats wholly of telegraphy. Ask J. H.
Bunnell & Co., 76 Cortlandt Street, N. Y., for their
catalogue, which they send free if you mention
the Round Table. Mary Newell Eatou, 197 South
Lafayette Street, Grand Rapids, Mich., wauts in-
door games for persons of sixteen to twenty. She
also wants to bear from any member who has vis-
ited or who now lives in Italy or China. She may
send us the morsel she mentions.
Joseph H. Duraut hopes we will publish a story
every other week that young artists may illus-
trate. We could hardly find space for one so
often, but we intend to offer some prizes for illus-
trations. Conditions will be announced soon. Sir
Joseph must learn to use India ink or water-colors
(black only). Pencil cannot be reproduced at all,
and crayon but poorly. John H. Campbell, Jun.,
413 School Lane, Germantowu, Philadelphia. Pa.,
wants to receive sample copies of amateur papers,
to join corresponding clubs, and to hear from mem*
bers iuGermautowu with a view of forming a local
Chapter.
Smith Phillips sends us some odd epitaphs from
tombstones iu a cemetery at Brownsville. Pa.
Such oddities are in many similar yards. It is in
this cemetery, by - the- way, that tbe parents of
James G. Blaine are interred. Speaking of ceme-
teries, can any one tell us why we use single slabs
set up at tbe head of the grave, while in England
and France, countries from which we borrowed
most of our customs, one sees quite different marks
of graves? Where did we get our idea,? Who cau
tell tbe Table?
Ronald Cbipchase thinks we should add swim-
ming to our list of all-around sport events when
we offer another medal. Lloyd Thomas asks how
to make a simple telescope for use in studying as-
tronomy. Better not make it. at all. One that is
of any real use can only be made by an expert, and
is expensive. G. D. Galloway. ( lakwood Place. Euil
Claire, Wis., publishes the Albermarle, and wants to
semi you a sample It is a neat eight-page ama-
teur paper. Will Fred Hawthorne tell us about tbe
fruits of Jamaica— what ones are ripe when he
writes. Compare them, date for date, with their
appearance in Massachusetts, and carefully de-
scribe those that we do not have. Sir Fred, we
should explain, lives at "Mona Great House,"
Kingston, British West Indies.
HARPER'S ROUXD TABLE
CAHERA CLUB.
PAPERS FOR BEGIXXERS, Nil. 9.
TREATMENT OF UNDER-EXPOSED PLATES.
BY an "under-exposed plntc-" is meant a
plate which has not been exposed long
eiioii<rli to the action of light for the objects
to make a deep enough impression in the
silver salts, or to cause the. chemical change
to take place which makes the perfect pic-
ture.
The normal development of an under-ex-
posed plate results in a negative in which
.the high or white lights are very strong,
and have a chalky appeaninee in the print,
while the shadows have little or no detail;
and win-re a plate has been much under-
exposed, only clear glass is the result of the
development. The reason why the high
lights appear so harsh and strong is due tu
the fart that to get detail in the shadows
the development is carried on till the high
lights an- very mncli over-developed and
the Him has become dense.
The practised amateur usually knows
whether his plate has been under-exposed
or not. and treats it accordingly. The be-
ginner, not having learned how to gauue
exposures correctly, must learn how to dis-
tinguish an under-exposed plate as soon as
the developer begins to act on it, so that
lie may get a good, or fairly good, negative.
It' a plate which has been under-exposed
is placed in a normal developer, the hieji
lights will be some time in coining out, and
the shadows will not appear at all, or, if
they do, will be very dim. If the develop-
ment is continued in order to bring out de-
tail, the plate is apt to fog, and is then
spoiled entirely.
If the rest of the image does not follow
the high lights in a reasonable length of
time, take the plate from the developer and
place it in clean water. It will do no harm
if it stands in water I'm1 a few minutes, for
\\aler will bring out detail in an under-ex-
posed plate.
Nothing has been said about the different
kinds of developers, though they will be
fully treated in later papers. Tin- bej;i i
should stick to one developer till he h.-i-
leai lied just how to use it.
If one is using pyro, a fresh solution
should be at once made up, using half the
ijuantity of pyro given in the formula, and
the full amount of the alkaline solution.
The pyro is the developing agent, or thai
which gives the required strength or den-
sit \ . \\ bile the alkaline solution, containing
the sulphite of soda, prevents the staining
of the negative and preserves the pyro.
After tin- development of the plate is fin-
ished turn off the solution, leave the plate
in the tray, pour water over it, and allow it
to stand for tifteeu or twenty minutes, be-
ing careful that it is covered from the light.
If oue uses hydrochinon, which is a fa-
vorite developing agent with amateurs, di-
lute the developer and add from three to
seven drops of iodide solution. This solu-
tion is composed of 1 grain of iodine. 1 ice
of water, 1 ounce of alcohol. Mark the bot-
tle ''Accelerator." This solution hastens
the development of the image and brings it
up evenly, and the contrasts between the
lights and shadows are made -oft and del-
icate.
Copyright, 1835. bj The Procter « r.nmlik Co., Cin'ti.
Plenty of fresh air, an
abundance of sleep, a care-
ful diet and the daily use of
a good soap like the Ivory
will purify the complexion
as no cosmetic can.
&
EARN A TRICYCLE!
We wish to introduce our
Teas. Spices, an«l baking
I'OW.UT, sell 30 ibs. and
we will give you a Fairy
Tricycle : sell 25 Ibs. for
aSoiidSilver Watch and
rhuin ; GO Ibs. fora Gold
Watch and Chain; 76 Ibs.
for a Bicycle ; 10 Ibs.
for a Beautiful Gold
Rinp. Express prepaid
11 msh is sent for gixxls.
Write tor catalog and
Order sheet.
W. G. BAKER,
SPRINGFIELD. MASS.
OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT o^^awaM
CILLOTT'S PENS at the CHICAGO LZPOSITIOK.
AtVAKD: " Fur excellence of steel used in their
manufacture, it being: line Drained and elastic - super-
ior workmanship, especially shown by the careful
grinding which leaves the pens free from defects The
tempering is excellent ;md the action of the finished
pens perfect." (Signed) FJUNZ VOOT,
fH. I. KIMKU.I,, IttflirirlualJudge.
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(JOHN JJOYI) THACHER,
Chairman Exec. Cam. on Awards.
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783
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE CIRCUS TRAINING SCHOOL— AN UNPROFITABLE PUPIL,
CARAWAY SEEDS.
I'M going to plant these little seeds,
And some fine day I'll wake
To find a pretty spreading stalk
All bending down with cake.
HARD WORK.
"WELL," said Jack, " vacation has begun, and I'm just as
busy as ever."
" Doing what ?" asked his father.
" Finding something to do," said Jack. " And I tell you,
Daddy, it's hard work."
ALL great artists have queer ex-
periences during their lives, which
the biographer loves to dwell upon in
his books of anecdotes. Here is one
that occurred to the great pianist
Paderewski iu England. He re-
ceived a polite letter from an in-
valid lady, asking him if he would
spare the time to play her one piece
during an afternoon, as her health
would not permit of her going to any
crowded concert - room, the letter
closing with an otter of a half a gui-
nea reward.
Paderewski replied with an invi-
tation to call at his hotel, appoint-
ing an hour when he would receive
her. The lady called, and Paderew-
ski, after pleasantly greeting her,
sat before his piano and played a
prelude, a nocturne of Chopin, and
Songs without Words.
The little impromptu concert over,
the lady rose, thanked the virtuoso
most graciously, and extended her
hand to bid him adieu, slipping the
promised half-guinea into his palm.
"Ah, what is this?" Paderewski
inquired.
"Why," she said, sweetly, "it's
the half-guinea I promised you."
"Now, I really believe," he au-
answered, with a smile, " that I shall
be able to get to the next town
without it." And pleasantly return-
ing the coin, he bowed the lady out.
•
NAPOLEON'S smooth face was a
sure evidence of his dislike for a
lirard. In some anecdotes of the
Russian campaign there is a story
told of the great Emperor and a poor
but witty barber, who had occasion
to shave him.
Napoleon had made a rather
lengthy detour from the line of
march with a detachment of officers.
Arriving at a small village they re-
freshed themselves with a good meal
and baths. Napoleon, wishing to be
shaved, the village barber was called
in. While the poor fellow strapped
his razor and passed it industriously
over the great Emperor's chin, he re-
mained silent and seemingly mel-
ancholy, although performing his
work with amazing rapidity and
smoothness. When he had finished, Napoleon complimented
him, remarking, " But, man, why do you wear such a melan-
choly face ? You should be happy to have the privilege of
shaving an Emperor."
"I am doubly happy, your Majesty."
"Then what is it that troubles you?"
"Alas, your Majesty, when I think of the Kings upon
Kings and Emperors that have died without knowing what
it was to be shaved by me, I am sad and melancholy."
PROOF POSITIVE.
PERCY. "Don't two negatives make an affirmative?"
PAPA. "Yes, Percy."
PEHCY. " Then I'm awful smart."
PAPA. "Why?"
PEHCY. " Because the teacher says I'm a ' Know-noth-
ing.'"
" WHAT did Washington mean when just before the bat-
tle of Trenton he said, 'Put none but Americans on guard
to-night ?' " asked an Irishman, who was heatedly defending
the valor of the Celtic race in general. " I'll tell you what
he meant! He meant, 'Let the Irish sleep; I've work for
them to-morrow.' "
BOBBY. "Mamma, I want you to crack me open."
MAMMA. " Why, my boy, what's the matter with you?"
BOBBY. "Papa said I was a bad egg. I don't believe it."
784
HARPEKS
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, by HAHPKR & BROTHERS. Ail Rights Ref
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 823.
NEW YORK. TUESDAY, AUGUST 6, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
GREAT MEN'S SONS.
THE SON OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT.
BY ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS.
IT was all glory and glitter one bright day in Babylon.
It was that eventful morning, signs and ages ago.
--when the armies of the East and the armies of the West,
with the epigoiwi, or brilliant young "sons of the Kmu,
twenty thousand in line, with horse-archers and foot-arch-
ers, and slingers and spearmen, and war-elephants and war-
chariots, and all the galleys and barges of the King's navy,
marched and countermarched, sailed and manoeuvred, all
:in honor of one very small boy, who was yet a very impor-
tant one.
He sat under a gorgeous canopy upon tl.e gleaming poi
tico of the palace of the kings at Babylon, and clapped his
hands, and crowed his praises, and laughed aloud in g
-as spears were tossed and shields were clashed aloft, and
soldiers shouted and generals sainted, and princes of v
nations bowed themselves to the ground in homage and
miration— all in honor of this very small boy wnh a very
Teat name. For he was Alexander, tho Shield, the Great
Lord. Hlessed, That, liveth t'cirever. lie was constit in nuial
King of JIacedon, Captain-General of Greece, Lord of l'j\ j.i,
and monarch of Asia. He was the son of Alexander, King
of JIacedon, called by men the Great and Conqueror of the
World.
But Alexander the Great was dead. And in the palace
of the kings whose empire lie had conquered, the palace in
which Belshazzar had feasted and CMIIS had ruled, and in
which the all- conquering Macedonian had died at thirty-
two, this helpless baby, less than a year old. and who had
ne\er seen his father of the mights name. he-Id tin- SO
eiijutv that Ale:.ander the (Jreat had established.
'it was a vast pos>e>sion. It stretched tv,.m <
India, from Egypt to Siberia: it was MI. li ax onlj a genius
could have conquered and only a genius could rule. \Vith
Alexander dead and only a bal>; ' .vudy
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
in danger. But Roxaua the Queen said, boldly, " My boy
shall be King," and all the "Companions of Alexander," as
his generals and ministers were called, echoed her words:
"The boy shall be King!" And so it came to pass that at
thr great display in Babylon the little son of Alexander was
honored and sainted and adored as the successor of his im-
perial father.
But Alexander the Great had died too soon. He had won-
derful plans as to what he would do if he had lived, but
none at all as to what was to be done if he should happen
to die. He did die — suddenly — in the year 323 B.C. And
thereupon each one of his leading generals, or "Compan-
ions," declared that he was the man to step into Alexander's
shoes, and have the charge of the empire and the care of
the young King until the boy should come of age.
So they began to quarrel among themselves and to mnke
things very uncomfortable for the Queen Roxana in the
splendid palace at Babylon, until finally little Alexander's
grandmother, the Princess Olyuipias, declared that she
would take charge of the King and his empire. This made
the generals angry with Olympias, who was a very drier-
mined and a very vindictive old lady, and things became
more mixed up than ever. But the Princess Olympias had
considerable power, and she managed to get possession of
little King Alexander and his mother, and to have them
brought, under a strong body-guard, from province to prov-
ince and from camp to camp from one end of the empire to
the other, until they reached her home in westeru Greece.
Gradually the quarrelling generals who were fighting for
the possession of Alexander's empire were reduced, by vic-
tory or death, to live. And of these five the most ambitious
and determined was C'assander, the regent of Macedon.
He hated Alexander the Great ; he hated the sou of Alex-
ander ; for the father had slighted him when living, and the
sou, by living, stood in his way. He had determined to
be the head of the empire, and he did not rest until he had
forced his rivals, the fighting generals, into a bitter quarrel
for supremacy, that led to a long and bloody war.
It was during this war that little King Alexander's
grandmother, the Princess Olympias. set out to punish Cas-
sauder. While he was fighting in southern Greece, -lie
gathered an army in northern Greece and attempted to in-
vade Macedon and get possession of its capital city, Pella.
But Cassander was a shrewd young general; he seized all
the ships he could get together and sailed up the ^Egean
Sea so quickly that before Olympias knew it he had laud-
ed his army and got between her and the road that led to
Pella. Thereupon the old Princess, being afraid to risk a
battle, shut herself up with her slender army and the little
Alexander and his mother in the city of Pyilna, an old I ou n
of Macedon lying at the head of what is now called, on your
map of Turkey in Europe, the Gulf of Sal. mica. It is iu
the walled town of Pydna that, in the year 316 B.C., we get
our second brief glimpse of the sou of Alexander, now a
little boy of seven.
It was a beautiful spot iu which that old town of Pydua
was built; it stood three miles from the sea, in a fair and
fertile region, and almost iu the shadow of that grand old
hill Mount Olympus, the home of the gods of Greece.
It was anything but a beautiful home for little King
Alexander, however, when he found himself locked behind
its thick walls. For Cassander, the Macedonian, inarched
his soldiers against it, and dug a great trench all around
it, and set lip all the dreadful old-time war-engines about
it, and determined either to batter down its walls or starve
out its inhabitants.
It was a terrible siege. Provisions gave out, and poor
little Alexander went to bed hungry many a night. The
horses, the mules, and the dogs were killed for food. The
great war-elephants, having nothing to eat but sawdust,
grew too weak to be of any use. and, with their useless
drivers, were killed and eaten by the soldiers.
One dark night, through a secret doorway in the city
wall, a little party crept softly out of Pyilna and weut
down toward the port. It was the Princes., Olympian,
with the little King and his mother, accompanied by a lew
followers. Grown desperate by failure and famine, they
had planned to escape on a swift galley which was wailing
for them in the harbor. Silently they moved forward, but
before they had gone a mile a breathless messenger met
them. " Hack, back to the city," he cried; "hack ere you
are all made prisoners! Cassander has discovered your
plan. The galley is captured, and men lie in wait at the
port to seize and slay yon all."
Hurriedly the fugitives returned to the city. Then, un-
able longer to stand the horrors and privations of a be-
sieged town, Olympias the Princess and little King Alex-
ander, her grandson, surrendered to G'assauder, after getting
him to promise to do them no harm.
But those were da-ys when such promises did not amount
to much. For the lying Cassander speedily went back
upon all his promises. He had the ambitions old Princess
killed, and he imprisoned Alexander and his mother in the
gloomy old citadel at Amphipolis, an important city of
Macedon, on the river Strymon, three miles back from the
sea, at the head of what is now called, ou your map of Tur-
key iu Europe, the Gulf of Orfani.
Here in this massive and gloomy old citadel of Amphi-
polis ("the city surrounded by water"), where the boy was
kept cluse prisoner for live years, we get our last glimpse
of the son of Alexander. For when Cassander learned that
there was a movement on foot to set the young King free
and make him King indeed, he sent to Glaucius, the com-
mander of the citadel, a swift messenger bearing a fearful
message. It was an order to make away with Alexander
and his mother as speedily and as secretly as possible.
The dreadful work was done. How, when, or where
none knows to this day. The "taking oft"' of the thirteen-
year-old King of Macedon was as great a tragedy and as
complete a mystery as was the murder of the English Princes
in the Tower of London eighteen hundred years later.
So the last of the race of Alexander was cut off. Cas-
sauder and the generals made themselves kings, and the
Macedonians held sway in the East uutil the growing pow-
er of Rome overshadowed and absorbed all that was left of
the once mighty empire of Alexander the Great.
It is evident that the son of the conqueror possessed little
of the pluck and .spirit of his famous father, who was a
governor at fourteen, a general at sixteen, a king at eigh-
teen, a conqueror at twenty. The strength of his father's
name was great, and had the little Alexander been of equal
valor he might have changed the history of the world.
But he did not. The life that began in glitter and glory
in the splendid palace at Babylon, tasted privation and
misery behind the gates of Pydua, and went out in secrecy
and death in the grim dungeons of Amphipolis.
ll is a sad story, but the son of Alexander was not the
only " sad little prince" in the history of the world. His
story is simply more notable, and perhaps more pathetic,
than that of other unfortunate boys because of the great-
ness and splendor of his father's name, and because not
even the shadow of that mighty name could save from sor-
row, pain, aud death the short yonng life that should rath-
er have been full of pleasure and of promise, aud should
have made itself a power iu the union of races and the
history of the world.
COBWEB LAKE.
BY FRANKLIN MATTHEWS.
THE most curious and interesting highway that I know
of is Cobweb Lane, and I very much doubt if any of
my readers ever heard of it. I am sure, however, that some
of them have been iu it iu the daytime, lint strangely
enough they have never seen it, for the peculiar reason that
Cobweb Lane doesn't exist iu the daytime. It only exists
at night. It isn't some out-of-the-way aud quaint place in
London, as, at lirst thought, its name might indicate, but it
is in the most conspicuous place in Greater New York. I'll
let you into the secret — I am quite sure it is a secret with
me — aud tell you where it is and what it is.
Cobweb Lane is nothing more nor less than the prom-
enade ou the Brooklyn Bridge. It doesu't exist uutil after
midnight, because not until then do the st lands that hang
from the big cables resemble the huge cobwebs that have
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
suggested the name Cobweb Lane. The moon has to be
in just the right position ; the great cities of New York
auil Brooklyn must have gone to bed and left numerous
lights, some in full glare and some turned down ; the water
in the river below must have a thin veil of mist hanging
over it, and then, in the stillness of the night, if you will
walk over the bridge you will see Cobweb Lane.
There is East Cobweb Laue and West Cobweb Lane.
The first is on the Brooklyn side of the bridge and the other
is on the New York side. As you walk out on the prom-
enade anil look over the cities and the beautiful harbor, per-
haps you soon will turn your eyes to the top of one of the
towers as you approach it. You are now at the beginning
of Cobweb Lane. The four big cables curve down from the
toil and hide themselves in some masonry at your feet, and
when you look up the narrow spaces between them, as they
reach away before you, the eye catches sight of strands of
steel rope, woven regularly and gracefully, hanging from
the cables and extending to the structure on which you
are standing. These strands, when the moon shines just
right, partly obscured and lying low in the south, are like
the filmy threads of a mouster cobweb spun in the sky.
Just as you are entranced with this fairy picture, and are
wondering where the big spider must be, you look ahead
of you on the promenade, and, as if coming from some hid-
den passage, you see a cloud of vapor. There is something
approaching, surely. You wonder atonce if the spider that
could have strung this web in the air would have hot
breath, and it is not until you hear a noise and are con-
scious that a train of cars has passed you that you begin to
realize that it really isn't a spider chasing aloug one of the
paths of his \\el> after you, in the hope of catching you
and making of you a very choice morsel of a fly.
For nearly five years 1 have been going over the Brook-
lyn Bridge night and day, and it seems to me that every
few days I see something in the arrangement of the details
of the structure that I never saw before. It is a constant
delight to watch the bridge under the varying conditions
that affect it from day to day. One can see, for example,
how carefully the wires for the electric lights are strung.
They are almost within reach of any person walking across
the structure, and yet there is absolutely no danger from
them. It is interesting to watch the bracing of the struct-
ure, how the big and little stays slope now this way and
that, and to note just where they change in their slanting
direction. It is also interesting at the dead of night to see
the workmen splice one of the car cables, taking out some
broken strand and weaving in another.
I always like to see the workmen paint these cables. The
men walk along the tracks with pots of red paint in their
hands. They have great mitts of lamb's wool on their hands,
and they use these for brushes. They dip their hands iu
the paint, and then run them along the cables until the
paint is transferred from the hands to the cable. It is dan-
gerous work, for not only must the workmen guard against
falling between the ties to the water below, but they must
face the danger of being run over, for every minute a train
of cars comes along.
I like to see the care that is taken of the stations. Every
Sunday morning at two o'clock the workmen get out a
hose and wash the terminals, just as sailors wash the decks
of a ship. Once every four years the structure is painted in
every part. It is fascinating to see the painters swinging
iu their chairs far up one of the cables or aloug the strands
that make the cobwebs at night. Every eight mouths a
IH-W flooring has to be laid down on the driveway, and so
you see there is something going on constantly on the
bridge that is worth watching.
I do not intend to tell anything about the bridge in the
.way of statistics. The well-known facts as to length and
height and cost and power to resist strains may be found
in any of the newspaper almanacs. But there is one fea-
ture about the bridge that I do not think is well known, and
which has interested me greatly. I think it will be news
to most persons that up in the towers where the big cables
rest there are a series of steel rollers over which the cables
pass. Each cable rests in a sort of a cradle as it goes
through the top of the towers, and under each of these
cradles are forty- three steel Millers, tour and a half feet
long and three and one-half inches in diameter. It is well
known that the heat aud cold, elongate and contract Hie
cables, and most of those persons who know about the.se
rollers think that they have been placed there to allow Mm
cables to lengthen or shorten themselves according as the
weather is hot or cold. They are in error en this matter,
however, for the rollers are placed in the towers merelv t<>
equalize the strain on the bridge. The contraction and
expansion are equal on both sides of a tower, and so them
would be no need of them on that account.
If, however, there should be a great weight on one side
of the bridge and not on the other, then these rollers come
into use. Under these conditions the weight of the cables,
and the structure they support, is thrown down the inside
of each tower straight to its foundations.
Another thing I like to watch about the bridge is tlm
slip joint exactly in the centre. There are two others of
these joints, one between each tower aud the land anchor-
age, but the most interesting one is in the centre. When a
train of cars passes, you can see the joint expand and con-
tract three-eighths of an inch, and even when a carriage
passes on the roadway you can see it move a little. These
slip joints are necessary chiefly because of the heat and cold.
In summer the cables are fifteen inches longer between
the towers than in the winter. The bridge structure is
cut in two iu the middle, and an arm is fastened to one of
these ends. It slips into an opening in the other end, and
moves back and forth as any expansion or contraction oc-
curs. I noticed one day last winter, when the greatest
crush iu the history of the bridge occurred, and when it was
estimated that 2500 tons of human beings weie distributed
along the bridge at one time, that this slip joint in the mid-
dle was drawn out at least fifteen inches because of the
unusual weight. As each cable, however, is intended to
sustain a weight of 12,000 tons, this great crush was a small
matter. Still, the constant motion of the bridge that seems
so solid aud inflexible is well worth studying.
I am also very fond of watching the structure sway in a
high wind. I was talking with one of the guards recently,
who had been on the bridge since the day it was opened.
He said that early one inoinini;, in the first high wind that,
came after the opening, he looked over to the New York
side and apparently saw one of the biggest chimneys in town
bending this way and that, and he stood there transfixed,
waiting for it to fall. It didn't fall, although it bent far
over, and he thought it must be wonderful mortar that
could hold so many bricks together. Suddenly he notic. .1
that the chimney was exactly in a line with one of the ver-
tical strands from the cables, and he saw at once that it
was the bridge and not the chimney that \\as swaying.
The guard was unprepared for such a situation. Of course
the bridge was moving only a few inches from side to side,
but when this man measured by a chimney a mile a\\a> it
seemed to move as much as the chimney apparently had
been moving.
This guard said he had been all through the civil war,
aud had faced death a hundred times in battle, but he
never was so frightened as on this occasion. He actually
expected to see the bridge go down at any moment, but ho
stood at his post until relieved. When lie ^nt home later
in the morning his wife asked him why he was so pale,
and he said that he had to go and lie do\\n lor sexeral
hours to recover from the shock. Nowadays no one thinks
anything of a slight swaying of the bridge in a tierce wind,
but to my mind it is one of the most interesting things
about the bridge to watch.
Soon after the bridge1 was opened word came to Chid
Engineer Martin that. Liariium was going to march In- en
tire herd of elephants, with the famous Jumbo at tin-a-
head, across the bridge some night. There, was no i.uitl"
for elephants, and the Barnum agents hoped that the ail
thorities would refuse to allow the herd in pass over. That
would givi; the Itanium people a chance to sa\ I hat Jumbo
was so big that the million ridf ie afraid to
lei him cross the ,-t rueture, and I he circus peoph fon
a splendid aih ell iseuienl.
Mr. Martin wasn't to be caught, napping, and he w.-is on
787
HAEPEE'S BOUND TABLE
and interesting things about the bridge,
you will be convinced that the bridge is
not prosaic after all. A visit to Cobweb
Laue will prove it.
YOU ARE NOW AT THE BEGINNING OP COBWEB LANE.
hand when the herd approached. The man in charge of-
fered to pay for crossing, but Mr. Martin said there was no
charge for elephants, and that the man could take them
over at his own risk. Mr. Martin stipulated that the ele-
phants should be kept at regular intervals. But when the
animals got out on the roadway, a train passing over fright-
ened them, and, with Jumbo to lead them, they gathered
in a group and trumpeted fiercely. Finally the keepers got
them to go on, but they were so timid that they crowded
each other all the way over. Mr. Martin ran out to the
centre to watch the effect on the slip joint, and found that
the weight amounted to nothing. Ever since that day ele-
phants by the hundred would not cause the bridge officials
any concern. Mr. Baruum's elephants got over in safety,
but there was no Jumbo advertisement to be had out of the
Brooklyn Bridge.
Chief Engineer Martin of the bridge once said to me,
when I asked him if he could not tell me some of the inter-
esting things about it that usually escaped the ordinary
observer :
"There isn't much to be said. The bridge is a very pro-
saic thing."
I have no doubt it is to Mr. Martin. He concerns him-
self with abstract mathematical formulas a good deal. He
knows about the tangents and sines and cosines and curves
and strains and all that, which some of us grown-up people
studied about in college, and have been glad to forget in
our humdrum lives since. When I asked Mr. Martin, how-
ever, if he knew where Cobweb Lane was, he smiled, and
said he didn't. He showed in that way that the bridge
•was a very prosaic thing to him ; but I am sure that if you
take no thought of mathematics, and look for the beautiful
THE WESTBRIDGE BUEGLAR
ALARM.
BY WILLIAM DRYSDALE.
" I" WONDER we didn't think of it long
A ago. Why, we can sit in our rooms
and talk to each other as well as if we
were together. The whole outfit won't
cost us more than fifteen dollars."
Tom Dailey began to drum telegraphic
dots and dashes on the table with the
ends of his fingers. He had just unfolded
to his two particular chums his plan of
connecting all their houses with a tele-
graph line, and the boys agreed that a
telegraph line was precisely the thing
they needed.
" I'm ready to begin right away," said
Harry Barker. "The sooner we have it
working, the better."
"It's very easily learned," Tom con-
tinued. "You can learn the alphabet in.
an hour or two, and after a week's prac-
tice you can read the sounder slowly. Our
houses stand just right for it, too."
Tom was certainly correct about that.
Their houses were in a cluster in the sub-
urbs of Westbridge, two on one side of the
broad avenue, and one just across the way,
with only about five hundred feet of
space between them.
"It would be a grand thing," Joe said,
after deliberating a little, "but I don't
know whether I can get father to ad-
vance me the cash. That canoe about
used np my money, and I may have trouble
to get any money for a while."
" No, you won't!" Tom exclaimed, very
decidedly. "You'll not have any trou-
ble at all to get money for a telegraph
line. I've thought that all out. You see, this thing is not
just a toy to play with ; it's for real use. You know what
the worst drawback is to living here half a mile out of
town; it's burglars, isn't it? That's what we always have
to be looking out for, specially since they broke iuto your
house two years ago, and took all your silverware. And
I'd like to know what better burglar alarm we could have
than a telegraph line between our houses."
The three families all took kiudly to the telegraph idea,
for they said that it would be a great convenience to them
in asking and answering questions, and would save them
many a step. Besides, if a burglar should visit any of the
houses it would be such a consolation to know that they
could call assistance in a few seconds. Tom and Harry put
little, tables close by their beds to hold the key and sounder,
but Joe had to make other arrangements. His mother was
afraid to have the wire so close to his head for fear it might
conduct the lightning when there was a thunder-storm, so
it was decided that his work-room over the kitchen should
also he his telegraph-office. That was the room where he
kept his printing-press and his carpenter's bench, and the
turning lathe that he had saved up for mouths to buy.
This work-room was too far from Joe's sleeping-room for
him to hear the click of the sounder if the other hoys
should call him at night; but Harry got his friend the
operator to help put up the line, and the operator made an
ingenious arrangement by which a little electric bell was
rung in the work-room whenever any of the keys were
used. By leaving the door open this bell could be heard.
"Ain'l it grewh !" Harry clicked off after the boys had
been practising a few days, meaning to say "Ain't it
great !"
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
"Biggryf thirg out," Tom ticked in reply, imagining
that he had said "Biggest thing out."
But they soon did better thau that, and in the course of
a week or two they were talking over the wire almost as
glibly as though they were iu the same room. Their mo-
thers and sisters were delighted with it, for Mrs. Dai ley
found that without the trouble of going out she could ask
Mrs. Barker just how much flour to put iu those new ginger-
snaps, and the girls made frequent appointments to walk
down town together — all by telegraph.
The line was so successful that the boys had to talk with
their schoolmates about it, and through them the news
reached the reporter of the Westbridge Eagle, and he put
a paragraph in the paper about it.
'' Our young townsmen Tom Dailey and Harry Barker
and Joe Bailey," the Eaijle said, "have added materially to
the comfort and safety of their respective families by put-
ting up a telegraph line and burglar alarm between their
houses. It is a regularly equipped line, with an office iu
each house. Td is the office call of young Dailey, Hb of
Barker, and Jb of Master Bailey. The instruments are in
the boys' sleeping -rooms, except Barkers; he uses his
work-shop for the purpose, and an electric bell gives warn-
ing when he is wanted. Burglars will give those three
houses a wide berth in the future."
" Give us a wide berth !" Tom exclaimed. " Well, I guess
they will! They wouldn't have any chance at all. Father
always keeps a revolver in his room, and I have my base-
ball bat. Now mind, fellows, if we hear a burglar at night,
we send an alarm first thing, and the minute we get au
alarm we call our fathers. I guess a burglar would soon
wish he was somewhere else."
" I have a baseball bat all ready at the head of the bed
too," said Harry. "Do you suppose it would kill a mau to
hit him over the head with it, Torn? I shouldn't like to
kill a man, not even a burglar. I guess I'd give him a rap
over the shoulders. But I'm afraid father would fire some
bullets into him before I had a chance."
" I almost wish we'd have a chance," Joe put in. " But,
of course, there won't be any burglars around, now that
we're all ready for them."
However, burglars are a little uncertain in their ways,
and it is not well to feel too secure. Perhaps it was even
while the boys were talking that two rough-looking fellows
had their heads together in the back room of a disreputable
saloon in Westbridge making plans. Our was older tlian
the other, and the younger bad a copy of the Westbridge
Earjle in his hands, occasionally reading a little here and
there. These two fellows were burglars in a small way,
and burglars, like other people, get a great deal of in I'm i na-
tion out of the newspapers. When they see that "John
Smith and family have gone to the Catskills; the house
is closed for the summer," they find it more interesting
news than the latest election returns.
" Oh, pshaw !" the younger burglar exclaimed, as bis eye
fell upon the paragraph about the boys' telegraph line — •
only he used language better suited to a burglar sitting in
a saloon ; " those fellows have put up a burglar alarm."
"What, at the three houses!" the other exclaimed. "Let
me see ;" and he snatched the paper rudely from the
younger man's hand. " Oh, my, my, my !" he went on, after
he had read the paragraph ; " that's the neatest thing I ever
saw in my life." And he leaned back in his chair, and
chuckled as merrily as if he had been an honest man.
" I don't see any tiling to laugh about," said the younger.
" We've spent over a week getting the lay of the land out
there, and now all that labor is lost. We'll have to try
somewhere else."
" Will we ?" said the older man, chuckling again. " You
only think so because yon're young at the business. Jest
leave this thing to me. my child. I kuow'd we'd have au
easy job out there, but I didn't think they'd take so much
trouble to make it easier tor us."
The rest of their talk was in too low a tone to be over-
beard; but about one o'clock tin- next morning Tom Dailey
and Harry Barker were both aroused at the same moment
by the furious clicking of their sounders. "Td,""Hb,"
the instruments were calling, and in a second or two both
buys were sending back the answering,
" Ay, ay ! Ay, ay !"
"Help! Burglars! Jb," both sounders said at once.
The message was repeated, and then all was still. Evidently
Joe Bailey had left the key and taken up his baseball bat.
It was quick work for Tom and Harry to arouse their
fathers and tell them that there were burglars over at
Baileys'. Hasty toilets were made, and the four sallied
out, father and son from each house.
"Isn't it lucky we put up that burglar alarm!" Tom
"EVERYTHING'S UPSIDE DOWN HERE," HE SAID, HOLDING THE
789
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
•whispered to his father as they hastened across the areune.
"Now you see what a lot of use it is. We'll have those
burglars just as sure as they're born. You and I can watch
one side of the house, while Harry and his father watch the
other, and there's no possible way for them to escape."
Tom was suddenly silenced by the omiuous click of a re-
volver. They were in the Bailey grounds now, and Mr.
Dai ley had caught sight of two forms moving among the
shrubbery.
"Stop there!" Mr. Dailey said, in a low but very deter-
mined voice, his cocked revolver pointing at the two forms.
" Stop there ! If you move you're a dead man !"
" It's all right, Dailey," came the reassuring answer.
"I'm Barker, and this is Harry with me. We'll capture
those burglars over at Baileys' if we're smart about it."
Mr. Barker also had a revolver in his hand, and Harry,
like Tom, carried a baseball bat.
"Now I guess they see what use the burglar alarm is,"
Tom found a chance to whisper to Harry. "But say, we
must be careful where we hit them. I don't think we
ought really to kill one of them; better strike for their
shoulders and arms."
In a minute more Tom aud his father were stationed
where they could watch the front and one side of the
Bailey house, and Harry and his father commanded the
rear aud the other side. No one could possibly leave the
house without being seen.
The strangest thing about it was that there was no light
in the house, not a sound to be heard, no sign that any-
thing unusual was going on. After a few minutes the
watchers began to feel uneasy about this. Mr. Dailey
moved cautiously down toward the other corner.
"Hey, Barker!" he called, in a suppressed voice. "Any
signs of a light around there?"
"Not a bit," Mr. Barker replied. "Not a sound inside,
either."
"I don't like that," Mr. Dailey said. "There may have
been murder as well as robbery. Keep a sharp eye out,
and I'll give an alarm at the front door."
Bang! bang! bang! went Mr. Dailey's boot against the
frontdoor. No answer. Bang! bang! again.
"Hello !" said Mr. Bailey's voice at the second-story win-
dow.
"It's all right, Bailey," Mr. Barker shouted. "We're
Barker and Dailey, with the two boys, and we're all armed.
You'd better come down and open the door. They can't
possibly escape."
"Who can't?" said the voice at the window.
" The burglars," said Mr. Dailey. "They must be still in
the house."
"Wait a minute," said the voice at the window. Aud
those outside heard a footstep on the stair, and in a mo-
ment the front door was thrown open.
Mr. Bailey had a revolver in his hand when he opened
the door, aud he was in a great state of excitement, though
he had seemed very cool when he was at the window.
"Everything's upside down here," he said, holding the
lamp above his head; "hats and coats all gone from the
hat- rack, chairs upset, doors left open. They must have
been all through the lower part of the house."
"I'll go into the dining-room with you to see whether
they've got the silver," said Mr. Dailey. " They may be in
there yet. We have the outside well watched."
The two men found everything in confusion in the dining-
room. Burglars had broken spoons and forks that they
suspected of being plated, aud left the pieces lying on the
floor. Bullet drawers had been pulled open aud ransacked,
and all the valuable silver was gone. So were some tine
pieces of cut glass, aud other valuable things. Just as the
two meu were about to extend their search to the kitchen,
Joe came down stairs, rubbing his eyes.
"I'm afraid we are too late, Joe," Mr. Dailey said, " but
your message brought us over in a hurry."
" My message !" Joe exclaimed, thoroughly awake now.
" What message, sir ?"
" Why, your message by telegraph, telling us there were
burglars in the house."
Joe looked thoroughly bewildered now.
" But I have sent no message, sir!" he replied. " I didn't
know there were any burglars in the house, and I've not
been near the key to-night."
"How is that!" Mr. Dailey exclaimed; "you have sent
no message! A call for help certainly came over the wire.
Go up aud look at your instruments as quick as you can,
Joe, and see whether they've been tampered with."
Joe struck a light and went up to his work-room, and
returned in a moment looking more bewildered than ever.
"It's very strange," he said, "but my bell IKIS been dis-
connected, so I couldn't have heard a call if one had come.
I'm sure I left it all right when I went to bed."
"Not strange at all!" Mr. Dailey snapped; and Joe had
never heard him speak so sharply. " We're a park of fools,
that's all. There are burglars in my house, at this minute,
Bailey, unless I'm very much mistaken, and in Barker's ton.
I must get home ; so must Barker."
The developments of the next ten minutes were highly
interesting. Mr. Dailey and Mr. Barker both Lurried to
their homes, with Tom aud Harry, and each found that
burglars had been in his house while he was away. In
each place the work had been done in the same way, evi-
dently by the same men. Hats aud coats were gone, and
all the solid silver, aud the cut glass, aud many other
things.
But no burglars were to be found in either place. They
had done their work and escaped.
"This is the most mysterious thing I ever saw!" Tom
said to his father, after they had searched the house aud
taken account of their losses. "You say Joe didn't send a
call for help, but it certainly came over the wire. And I
don't see yet how you knew while-we were over at Baileys'
that there were burglars in our house."
'•Don't you I" There was a lot of sarcasm in Mr. Dailey's
tone. " I should think the inventor of a private burglar
alarm might see through a little thing like that. One of
the burglars knew how to send a message ; now do you
see ?"
" I don't quite understand it even then, sir," Tom an-
swered.
"Oh, it's plain enough," Mr. Dailey explained. "They
knew all about your wretched burglar alarm, aud the par-
agraph in the paper told them your signal calls. They
robbed Bailey's house tirst, then disconnected Joe's bell,
and sent out the call for help. Of course they knew that
we would hurry over, leaving our own houses unprotected.
As soon as the call was sent they stepped out aud came
over and robbed our houses at their leisure, knowing that
we had gone to Baileys'. I suppose they're sitting some-
where now laughing at us."
Mr. Dailey was quite right about that. The two bur-
glars were at that moment dividing their plunder in an
empty barn, and laughing over their work.
"Give me a private telegraph line when you want to do
a job up slick," said the older man, handing out a cut-glass
pitcher, " specially when there's a newspaper to tell you
the office calls. We don't have such luck as that often."
The Westbridge boys have learned from experience that
it is hardly safe to ask Tom or Joe or Harry how he likes
telegraphing; aud the private burglar alarm has gone out
of business.
CORPORAL FRED.
A Story of the Riots.
BY CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U.S.A.
CHAPTER III.
TI1HE situation along the line of the Great Western at
J_ four o'clock this sultry afternoon was indeed alarming.
" No violence," said the leaders of the strike, " will be coun-
tenanced, though of course we cannot guarantee that it
won't occur. Our men are bitter at the refusal to comply
with their just demands, aud they have thousands of friends
and sympathizers whom we can't control." Whether friends
790
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
of the striking switchmen and trainmen or not, there could
be no question about the number of so-called sympathizers.
They swarmed to the yards from every slum in the city, a
host of tramps and thugs, vagabonds and jail-birds, re-en-
forced by bevies of noisy, devil-may-care street boys, and
scores of shrill - voiced, slatternly women. The men who
ventured to handle switches under instructions of the yard
foremen were stoned and driven off. • Loyal train hands
who had refused to strike and came ont with the mail and
express trains were hooted, jeered, and assaulted, despite
the deputy marshals and the widely scattered police. Some
strange apathy chained the city authorities and its battal-
ions of uniformed and disciplined meu who were held in
reserve at the police stations, while the pitiably small force,
distributed by twos and threes along ten miles of obstructed
track, made only shallow pretence of resistance to the ef-
forts of the mob or of protection to the objects of its wrath.
Mail trains and some few passenger trains, heavily guarded,
had managed to crawl through the howling throng, and
this partial success of the management served to fan the
flame of fury, and every window was smashed by volleys
of stones and coupling-pins iu the last train to be pulled
through. The track behind it was suddenly and speedily
blocked by the overturning, one after another, of dozens of
freight-cars. The rioters, guided by graduates of the yard,
now worked in most effective and systematic fashion. There
was no need of assaulting switchmen when they could so
readily block the tracks. The last train got iu at noon.
At 2 P.M. no trains, even the mails, could get either in or
out.
Then the authorities had to take a hand. The law of the
United States prohibited any interference with the carriage
of its mails. The railway officials represented their tracks
blocked by mobs and obstructed by overturned cars, spiked
switches, and nnspiked rails. A wrecking train, under
guard of both police and deputy marshals, was pushed out
to clear the way. The rioters jeered the deputies and
cheered their friends among the police. The work was at-
tempted, but was not doue. Fifty deputies couldn't cover
four miles of mob, and five hundred police winked at per-
sonal acquaintances in the shouting, seething throng, and
contented themselves with occasional hustling of some
manifestly friendless tramp or the vigorous arrest of some
vagrant boy.
Prominent business meu in a body went to the Mayor
and demanded action. Others had already wired the Gov-
ernor. The Colonels of the city regiments who had, of their
own accord, warned their men to be in readiness, got their
orders for service at 3.50 iu the afternoon, and at 4.45 Cor-
poral Fred came bounding iu across the threshold of his
home to kiss his mother aud sisters good -by and hasten
into town where, ready packed, was his knapsack with his
blanket, uniform, arms, and ammunition, at the regimental
armory.
The roar of the multitude at the yards only a block away
rose hoarse and vibrant on the sultry air. The dust was
sifting down in smothering clouds. Drawn thither by
curiosity numbers of women and children had gathered at
the upper end of the street, aud were thronging the porches,
-windows, aud even the roofs of the frame houses that cov-
ered the neighborhood. " What ever you do, mother,'' said
Fred, " keep away from the crowd, and keep the girls at
home. Has Jim been iu ?"
"No, he hasn't come back," was the almost tearful an-
swer. " Your father said he would try to find him when he
went to the shops after dinner. I wish he had kept away
from those meetings. No good can ever come of such riot-
ing."
" I haven't a moment to lose, mother," said Fred, kissing
away the tears now brimming iu her eyes, " but I must go
across the tracks to get to the cable-cars, aud he may bo
there. If so, I'll try to make him promise to come home."
It was a tearful group the gallant young fellow left be-
hind him on the narrow porch, as he strode swift!
the street. Some fifty yards away he turned and waved
his hat to them, then disappeared among the groups of
women excitedly, nervously watching the proceedings
The throng grew denser as he neared the while cod gates
that were lowered to close the crossing with every sign of
coming train or switch engine. Ordinarily they were ris-
ing and falling and their warning gongs trilling e\ ei\ CPi |,er
minute, bat not once this long June day had their while
fingers ceased to point straight to the /. -nith. At the cross-
ing a solitary and perspiring policeman was swinging
loosely his club and occasionally drawling ''Conic, get
back out of this," and laying benevolent hand on the near-
est spectator; but where one fell back a do/en surged fur-
ward, and the entire crossing was in the possession of a
throng of strike sympathizers, among whom Fred failed
to recognize more than three or four real railway men.
Prominent among the more active and determined at the
very front, however, he caught sight of a man named Far-
ley, a brakernan, who was often one of Jim's own crew.
He was shouting and gesticulating to friends in the second-
story windows of a saloon across the tracks, a rendezvous
of men who, at ordinary times, rarely drank a drop of liquor.
The ground-floor was invisible to the throng. " Col nit
here, you fellers," he was saying. "I tell you they're go-
ing to try to clear these side-tracks, aud we'll need every
man of you."
Farley was right in his prophecy. The managers real-
ized that it would take much longer to right the over-
turned freight-cars than to draw away the long trains of
empty or half-loaded cars at the sides, and so clear a track
or two for the mails and passengers. At the crossing of
Allen Street there were ten parallel tracks, those in the
middle — numbers five aud six — being the through tracks.
Freight-cars by the dozen on tracks four and seven had
been toppled over so as to completely block all four, and,
as Farley spoke, down the long vista towards thecity and
over the heads of the throng the smoke of locomotives
could be seen puffing steadily towards them. With car-
loads of such guards as they could command — deputy mar-
shals picked up and sworn in anyhow — the railway officials
were coming to make the. attempt. Fred had reached the
spot at the most exciting hour of the day. He should,
perhaps, have pushed on through the crowd and hastened
on to the cable road, but it occurred to him that an ac-
count of the situation up to the last moment might be of
use to his officers, or that he might find a quicker way of
getting to town on a switch engine. Then, too, he longed
to speak with Jim and get him to go home. He deter-
mined, therefore, on a few minutes' delay. Ducking, dodg-
ing, and squeezing, ho made his way through the crowd to
Farley's side.
" Jerry," said he, " I hate to see one of Jim's meu in this.
Surely he aud you ought to keep ont of the yards. Where
is he?"
" He has kept out of the yards so far," answered Farley,
with an angry oath and glaring eyes. "But the time's
come for them that are men to show it, and them that
don't step ont and fight for their rights now are skulkers
and sneaks — skulkers and sneaks," he shouted, and
the crowd roared approval. Out through the densely
packed, mass of humanity across the tracks something came
shoving aud surging, and presently, welcomed by a cheer,
a dozen burly men burst into view ami came striding out
upon the rig'ht of way, .lim Wallace' among them. Pale
with excitement aud apprehension Fred sprang towards
him.
"Jim — brother — think what you're doing! For Heaven s
sake take no part iu this rioting! Go to mother and the
girls. They're all alone."
"Go yourself, Fred," answered the elder, thickly. To
Fred's dismay he saw that his big brother, his pride
and protector for many a boyish year, had been drinking,
and was flushed and unbalanced as a result. "Go your-
self and keep out of harm's way. I'm in this to >ia\ now.
I'm not the man to see my brothers wronged and abused
and robbed of their rights. Von go to them. Fled. Why
are you not at the office?" he added, with sodden suspicion
in his glittering eye.
"I'm here to find you," said Fred, evasively. "Mi !'•
is crying because of her anxiety about you. Falh.
be, M searching. Do come out of this, .lim, and home with
791
"JIM, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE TAKE NO PART IN THIS RIOTING!"
But a yell of wrath aud defiance drowued the boy's
words, and as though with cue simultaneous impulse the
mob heaved aud surged aud broke into a ruu. The en-
giues had switched to the side tracks a block away, and,
protected by armed guards ou the tender, the pilot, and
footboard, were coupling ou to the standing trains. Fred
felt himself swept along, tugging at his brother's arm.
Halt' a dozen agile men edged out of the crowd and dove
under the cars to which the foremost engiue was now at-
tached. Shriek went the whistle, claug the bell, back
leaped the guards, some of them swarming up the freight-
car ladders. The engine jetted smoke aud steam and
backed promptly away, but a roar of triumph and derision
went up from the mob. Only one car followed it. The
strikers had drawn the coupling-pins of the rest.
Two of the deputies, Winchesters in hand, had clam-
bered to the roofs of the second aud third cars, aud uow as
their comrades were trundled away there they stood irres-
olute, lustantly those cars were the centre of a jeering,
howling mob. Instantly stones, coupling-plus, and mud
begau to fly. Throwing themselves flat upon their faces,
the luckless fellows sought to escape the storm. Missiles
hurled by the mob on one side came raining down into
the faces of their fellows ou the other, aud even as Fred
was imploring his brother to come away now and at once,
a rock, hurtling over the nearest car, struck the roof and
bounded into the throng below, cutting a gash ou the
younger brother's white forehead, and striking him sense-
less to the earth, just as some untaught, undisciplined fool
among the deputies pulled trigger and fired. Whistling
overhead the bullet went hissing away up the tracks the
signal for a mad rush of men aud boys. Au instant more
aud only three forms occupied the ground where a huudred
were struggling but the moment before — Jim Wallace aud
a fellow - trainsman beudiug over the senseless, bleeding
form of brother Fred.
"They've shot him! They've killed him!" howled the
retreating crowd. "Down with the deputies! Kill 'em!
hang 'em !" were the furious yells. Three or four police-
men came running up to assist the fallen. Au old gray-
haired man dropped the lever of the switch engine, calling
to his assistant to watch it, and ran forward along the
tracks, wild anxiety in his eyes, and in another moment,
brushing aside the bluecoats, old Wallace threw himself
upon his knees and raised the blood-staiued face of his boy
to his heaving breast. " In God's name," he cried, his lips
piteously quivering, "how came he here? Why is he not
at the office ?"
There was a moment of silence. Covering his face in his
hands, big burly Jiui turned almost sobbing away. A
young man leaping across the tracks caught the last ques-
tion as he joiued them, aud it was his voice that was heard
in answer. " Because they've discharged him, Mr. Wallace,
as they have me, for obeying orders to join our regiment at
once."
And as though recalled to his seuses by a comrade's
words. Corporal Fred faiutly opened his eyes and looked
up and saw his father's face. "Don't let mother know."
he murmured. "It might frighten her for nothing. Help
me over to the cable road, Charley ; we've got to hurry to
the armory."
Aud the.n the crowd came swarming back even as a little
boy, escaped for the moment from watchful eyes at home
and drawn by eager curiosity to the gates, now ran sob-
bing back to tell the dreadful news he had heard among
the women in the crowd — that brother Fred was shot aud.
killed.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
792
OAKLEIGH.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS D E L A N D.
CHAPTER VII.
NEAL dropped into the hammock that was hung across
the corner of the porch, and waited for Edith to come.
This was where she was apt to sit in the moruing, with her
work or a book.
Bob lay on the grass near, panting with the heat. He
had just had an exciting chase after a bird that would
perch occasionally on a low bush, then flap its wings tri-
umphantly, and fly away just as naughty Bob drew near.
He thought it a most mistaken arrangement of affairs that
birds were able to fly. Now, disgusted, he had apparently
given up the game, but lay with one eye open, awaiting
further developments. Presently Edith came out, followed
by the children with their toys. She had her work-basket,
for she continued to take care of their clothes, notwith-
standing Mrs. Franklin's remonstrances.
She was not particularly pleased to see Neal in her fa-
vorite corner. She said to herself that she would like to
have one day at least free from the Gordons. Edith felt
cross with herself and every one else this morning.
Neal rolled out of the hammock when he saw her, and
sprang to draw up her -chair with extreme politeness and
courtesy.
"And you would like this little table for your basket,
wouldn't you ?" he said, lifting it across the porch.
"Thank you," said Edith, mollified in spite of herself.
Then she stiffened again.
" Where are Ben and Chester f ' she asked, with a severe
glance at Bob.
" I saw them around at the side door."
" It does seem a shame that they should be banished
from the front of the house. For years they have had the
use of this piazza;
and now, just be-
cause .Bob chooses
to monopolize the
place, they feel that
they must go."
"Very foolish
feelings," said Neal,
who had returned
to his hammock. "If
they only had a lit-
tle spirit they would
soon show Bob his
proper place. Why
•don't they give him
u good shaking
when he nips their
Jegs ?"
" Because they
are larger than he,
.and because they
are too polite to do
it in their own
home."
Neal laughed. He
had a hearty, conta-
gious langh, and
Edith could not re-
frain from joining
in it.
" They set you a
•very good example,"
he said. " Come,
iEdith, confess that
you hate the Gor-
dons, from Bob up."
Edith colorrd.
•" How silly you
are !" she said, with
supreme dignity.
•" Why should I
trouble myself to
dislike you ?"
" Why, indeed? There's no accounting fur tastes. Tlicn,
'love me, love my dog.' But I say, Edith, it rather pa\s
to make you mad. You gi-ow two im-h.'s visibly, while- I
shrink in proportion. It is just as if you bad sonic of that
cake in your pocket that Alice came across in Wonderland,
don't you know ?"
" Oh, Neal, tell us about it !'' rrird .Janet, dropping her
dolls and flinging herself on the end of the hammock. " I
just love your stories."
" It is more than can be said of your big sister, Janet, my
child. Bob and I are in disgrace."
" Bob's no good," said Willy ; '' he won't play.''
"His coat is too thick," remarked Xral. "Bob wishes
it were the fashion to wear short hair in summer. I say,
Edith, where are you going ?" for she had put up her
work.
" I think I shall take the buggy and go down to see Ger-
trude Morgan. I'm tired of it here."
"Thank you," said Neal, meekly.
" Children, you can stay here," she continued. " I sha'n't
be gone more than an hour or two."
The children did not object. They counted upon having
Neal for a companion, and he was all-sufficient.
But when the old buggy rounded the corner, and, instead
of coming up to the house, rattled down the drive on the
farther side of the " heater-piece," Neal sprang out of the
hammock with a bounce and ran across the grass. Bob
wanted to follow, but he ordered him back. He reached
the fork iu the avenue before Edith did.
"You're pretty cool, to go ott' this way when I'm going with
you."
" And you are very cool, to come when you are not iu-
THEN THEY STARTED HOME, CARRYING THE CUSHIONS BETWEEN THEM.
793
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
vited," said Edith, wrathfully, as Neal climbed into the car-
riage without waiting for her to stop.
"I know. It's pleasant to be cool on such a hot day as
this."
"Where is your hat?"
"I'm under the impression it is on thehall lable ; but no,
it may be in my room. On second thoughts, it is probably
in the cellar. In fact —
" Oh, hush !" said Edith, laughing involuntarily. " Where
are yon going in this plight ?"
"To see Miss Gertrude Morgan."
"Indeed you are not. I have no intention of driving to
Brentou with a hatless boy."
" ' Then we'll go to the woods,' says this pig " ; and seiz-
ing the reins, he turned abruptly, as they reached the gate
of Oakleigh, into a rocky, hilly lane that led up through
the woods.
"Now, isn't this jolly ?" said he, leaning back in his cor-
ner of the buggy. "Just the place for a hot day."
" Oh, I must go back !" exclaimed Edith, suddenly. " It
lias just occurred to me you have left the children."
"They're all right. They've got Bob, and we sha'n't be
gone long. Great Scott! what a road this is! I don't be-
lieve these wheels will stay on long. Why don't you use
the s'irrey ?"
"Because the surrey is not mine, and this is."
"So that's your line of march, is it? I suspected as
much. But I thiuk you are pretty hard on Hessie. She
means well, and she's not a bad sort, though I say it. as
shouldn't."
Edith made no answer.
"Why don't yon try and make the best of things? I al-
ways do. It doesn't really pay to do anything else."
" Very good philosophy. But if you have come out mere-
ly to lecture me on my duties as a step-daughter, I think we
may as well turn round and go home again."
" Oh, come off, Edith ! You're a nice, girl in the main, and
I think it's a howling shame for you to make yourself so
mighty offish and disagreeable to Hessie. Why, if any one
ought to mind it — her marrying, I mean — I'm the one. It
makes a big difference to me."
" Will you let me get out and walk home, if yon have
not the, grace to drive me there ? You have no manner of
right to talk to me this way."
" I know I haven't, and I'm awfully sorry if I've offended
you. I'm afraid I have. You'll forgive me, Edith, please!
Don't go home. I've put my foot in it, like the great awk-
ward fellow I am. But I hate to see things all at sixes
and sevens the way they are, and I thought perhaps if I
told you what Hessie really is you would feel differently.
If you only knew what a good sister she's been to me! You
know our father and mother died when I was a little duf-
fer, and Hessie's been an Al sister ever since. Our grand-
mother didn't take much stock in me because I was a boy,
but Hessie always stood up for me. It's natural I should
take her side. I hate to see any one dislike her. But I see
it's no use. and I'm sorry I spoke. But, say, you will excuse
me, Edith. You don't like it, and I ought not to have said
anything, and I apologize."
This was Neal in a new light. Edith was astonished.
She had supposed that he was only a rollicking boy, too
lazy to amount to anything, and too fond of a joke to think
of the more serious side of life.
She hesitated. She was very angry with him. Of course
he had no business to speak to her on this subject, but he
•was evidently sorry. His brown eyes looked very re-
pentant, and there was not a shadow of a smile in them.
"Come now, Edith," he urged, " do it up handsomely,
and forgive and forget. Give me your hand on it."
And Edith did so, and -with difficulty repressed a shriek
at the hearty squeeze that was given it. And just as they
had reached this point in their conversation there was a
sudden crash. Off went the wheel, and down went buggy,
Edith, and Neal in a heap.
Fortunately the horse stood still. They were in the
depths of the wood, two miles from any house. A few star-
tled birds fluttered among the trees, and a gray squirrel
paused in his day's work to view the scene.
Neal and Edith crawled out from the debris.
"Here's a pretty how-d'y' do," said Neal, surveying the
wreck. "Edith, I greatly fear you'll never drive in that
buggy again."
He unhitched the horse, and then removed the remnants
of the vehicle to the side of what road there was, and par-
tially hid them in the bushes.
" On that rock we split," said he, solemnly, pointing to a
big stone that rose high above a rut. " If I hadn't been
so busy apologizing, Edith, we wouldn't have gone to pieces.
However, perhaps now you will use the surrey."
It was a dangerous speech, but Edith tried not to mind
it, and she helped Neal to clear away the stuff'. Then they
started for home, Ned leading Robin, the old horse, while
together they carried the cushions and a lap-robe that had
been under the seat.
Neal, his spirits raised by the accident, was in his gayest
humor, and the quiet air rang with his laughter as they
trudged home in the heat. Edith quite forgot her previous
displeasure, and was so like her old self that Neal in his
turn was surprised, and thought she was almost as nice
as Cynthia. He had never seen her in this mood before.
When Neal abruptly deserted the children in his pursuit
of Edith they were at h'rst too much amazed to do anything
but stand perfectly still and watch him. Then, as the back
of the buggy disappeared behind the trees, their wrath
found words.
"Mean old things!" exclaimed Janet. "They've gone
off and left us, an' I tickerlarly wanted Neal to tell us a
story."
Bob joined the group, his tail disconsolately lowered.
His master had been very harsh and unfeeling to leave him
at home, he thought. The trio stood in a row on the top
step of the piazza. Then, with a feeble, and melancholy
wag of the tail, Bob again stretched himself on the grass
and prepared to make the best of a bad bargain.
The others were not so easily appeased.
" We've got uuffin' to do," grumbled Willy. " I wish we
could play wif de chickens."
" We can't do that," said Janet, decidedly. '• We can't
touch those chickens if we don't want a terrible spanking.
You know what papa said."
The chickens presented a powerful fascination for Willy.
He was revolving in his mind the question as to whether it
would or would not pay to be spanked for the sake of hav-
ing some fun with the chicks.
" No, no," said Janet, who had no fancy for a whipping.
"We've got to do somethiu' else." She paused. Slowly
a gleam of mischief came into her eyes, and a smile broke
over her round and rosy face. "Willy, we'll play barber."
" How do we do it ?"
" I speak to be barber. Don't you remember when papa
took you to have your hair cut? Well, you be papa an'
you bring Bub, an' we'll cut his hair. Neal said it wastur-
rible hot for him. Neal '11 be glad when he comes home
an' finds it all nicely cut."
"Course he will. Only I'd like to Tie barber, Janet,"
"No, I will. It is my game, so I can be barber. Get
the hat and be papa."
Willy obeyed, and presently returned in a large straw
hat that had once been his father's farm hat, and was now
relegated to a back closet for use in the children's games.
Janet, meanwhile, had found a large pair of scissors in
Edith's basket, unfortunately left on the porch, with which
she was viciously snipping the air.
'• We'll have some fun even if they did go off an' leave
us," said she. " Bring along Bob. Here's the chair."
But Bob refused to be brought. He lay stretched on his
side, now and then weakly wagging his tail in response to
their commands, but otherwise not stirring. It was too
hot to move for any one but his master.
"We'll have to do it there. We'll pretend he's a sick
person that has to have his hair cut off. They do some-
times, you know," said Janet, with an air of superior knowl-
edge. "You can he my 'sistant. Here's a scissor for you"
— extracting another pair from the too convenient basket.
In a moment they were both hard at work. Suippity,
T94
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
snip, clip, clip, went the two pairs of scissors. Bob's beau-
tiful long black liair. the pride of Iris master's heart and the
means of securing a prize at the last dog-show, lay in a
heap on the grass.
"That's nice," said Janet, surveying the result with sat-
isfaction. "He must feel lovely and cool. Now let's do
the other side."
But that was not so easy. Bob still refused to stir. They
pulled and punched and pushed, but he would not turn over.
" Well, we'll just have to leave it an' do it 'nether time,"
said Janet at last, with a parting clip at ear and tail. "Let's
go down an' play iu the brook."
And flinging the scissors on the grass, these two young
persons deserted the sceue of their labors, and were soon
building a fine dam across the brook in the pasture. Tilde
they remained until the sound of the bell on the carriage
house, rung to summon to dinner the men at work in the
distant fields, warned them that it was twelve o'clock and
almost time to go iu themselves.
Edith and Neal plodded slowly homeward. It- was very
warm, for though it was not suurjy iu the woods, the trees
shut off the air. They turned in from the lane and walked
.up the avenue, Robin's hoofs falling regularly on the gravel
•with a hot, thumping sound.
" Jiminy, this is a scorcher!" said Neal, wiping his fore-
head. " Here comes Bob. He doesn't seem to mind the
•weather. No, it isn't Bob, either. What dog is it? Great
Scott, Edith, it is Bob! What has happened to him?"
He dropped the reins, and Robin trudged off alone to his
stall.
•' Why, Neal, I never saw such a sight !" cried Edith.
Bob, bounding merrily over the grass, overjoyed at see-
ing his master return, was quite unconscious of the effect
he produced. On one side he was the same beautiful, glossy-
coated creature he had ever been ; on the other, through
stray, uneven bunches of hair gleamed touches of whitish
skin. His ears, which had measured a proud eighteen
iuches from tip to tip, flapped on either side in ungraceful
scantuess ; and his tail, from which so short a time before
had waved a beautiful raveu pluuie, uow wagged iu uncom-
promising stubby ness.
" Bob, Bob, what has happened to you ? You look as if
you had been iu a fire .'"
Edith, with an awful foreboding iu her heart, hurried
towards the house. Yes, her fears were realized! Two
pairs of scissors aud a mass of black hair told the tale. She
sank down on the steps aud covered her face.
"The children have done it," she murmured. "Oh, Neal,
•we ought never to have left them !"
Neal stood there perfectly silent. He had grown very
white, and bis eves looked dangerously dark.
" Oh, those children !" he said at last, between (irmly set
teeth. "You had better keep them out of my way for a
time, Edith. I'd just like to murder them, the way I feel
uow."
"Oh, Neal, I am so sorry! I can't tell you how dread-
fully I feel. But we oughn't to have both gone. You see,
I didn't know yon were coming too."
"And I didn't know I was expected to act as child's
nurse," said Neal, angrily. "The dog is done for, as far as
shows are concerned. His coat will never be the same
again; it ruins it to cut it." He stopped abruptly. "I
guess I had better get out of the way," he said, pres-
eutly. "I can't answer for my temper. Come, Bob."
And he walked down across the grass and went oil' into
the woods.
Edith, left alone, began to cry. She would not have had
this happen for the world. Again she said to herself, why
had the Gordons ever come there to disturb their peace of
mind in so many ways? And where were the children ?
They should be severely punished.
She looked for them all over the house, but of course
they were not to be found. After a long time she saw
them coming slowly homeward. They were wet and be-
draggled, for the stones had been as obdurate as Bob and
refused to move. Willy had tumbled into the brook, aud
Janet had followed, in a vain attempt to help him out.
And now they were met by an irate sister, who, seizing
them roughly, dragged them upstairs.
" Yon shall go straight to bed and stay there ! Yon have
ruined Neal's dog, aud he'll never get over it. You are bad,
naughty children !"
"I think you're silly, Edith!" sereaiued Janet. "We
didn't hurt him, and we only cooled him off. You're m. an
to make us go to bed in the middle of the day, an' you'd
orternot drag us this way. Mamma wouldn't."
"Idou'tcare what your mamma would do; it's what I
do."
Edith did not realize that a few words spoken calmly
but sternly to Janet and Willy would have more lasting
effect than this summary mode of punishment The truth
was she was too angiy to trust her tongue at all. and this
reference to Mrs. Franklin annoyed her. Everything seemed
against her, aud the hot weather made things worse.
She ate her dinner in solitude, and then, when the after-
noon had worn on for an hour or two, she at last saw Neal
coming across the fields.
Edith went to meet him.
"You want something to eat, "she said. " Conie in and
I'll find you something. Neal, I am so sorry."
"Oh, don't say anything. What's done can't be undone.
Lend me your shears after dinner and I'll finish things up
with a flourish. I can get him into better shape than he
is. He looks like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. H\de jn>t now. I'm
as hungry as a hunter, so I don't mind accepting your offer
of a bi te."
Edith went off to find something, and as she prepared a
dainty meal for the boy, she thought to herself that he set
her a good example. She knew what pride he had taken
in Bob's appearance, aud she knew how angry he had been
at first. It must have been a hard battle for him.
And it was. Edith was far from realizing what a tem-
per Neal had. He had felt that morning that his only
safety lay in flight, and he had tramped many miles through
the woods in the endeavor to overcome his auger.
After luncheon he took the scissors aud set to work upon
Bob's other side. He could not repress a groan of dismay
once or twice.
" If they had only done it decently !" he said. •• In some
places it looks as if it had been torn out by the roots, they've
cropped it so close, and here again are these long pieces.
Well, well, Bobby, my boy, I fancy we were too vain of
our appearance. Here goes !"
In a short time Bob had the appearance of a closely
shaven French poodle.
Edith watched the process for a few minutes, but pres-
ently went to her room.
" I shall be held accountable, for this too, I suppose," she
said to herself. " Oh, icliy did those Guidons ever come ?"
[TO lilt OONTINUKD.J
BUILDING OF MODERN WONDERS.
THE BOOK.
BY KIRK MUNROE.
A LTHOUGH we are apt to speak of the " writing " or
A\- the "making" of a book, rather than of its "build-
ing," each of these is a distinct operation; and when, a
book, first written, then made, is finally ready for the reader,
it has been built as truly as a house or a ship is built. It
has demanded an equal amount of careful planning, skilled
labor, and close attention to the thousand details that go
to the making of a completed whole. In reading an inter-
esting book how very little we think of this, or reali/e the
amount of time and hard work expended in thus ghing us
a lew hours of pleasure. Most people consider writing to
be a very easy method of making a living, and nothing is
more common iu an author's experience than to have his
friends express surprise when lie .speaks nf going to his
work.
•• Work '." they exclaim. " Surely \ on do not call ii
to occupy a pleasant immi at Imnie.and wrih
hours each day? That's mure like play than worU. !
795
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
want to know what real work is, come with us and see what
we have to do."
So every one, except those who know, imagines book-
writing to be so easy that most of those who desire to earn
a livelihood without very hard work try their hands at it.
The girl of brains and education thrown upon her own re-
sources decides to become an author ; and, after a desperate
struggle, fails because she lias no real experiences to draw
from. The sea-captain who is too old to follow his chosen
profession, but nnist still make a living, aud is brimful of
experience and adventures, decides to become an author.
When he too meets with failure he blames everybody and
everything except himself, aud rarely discovers that the
reason he cannot become a successful author at his time of
life is because he has not been trained to the business, and
does not know how to write.
Authorship, or book - writing, is a trade that must be
learned the same as any other, and I believe that any boy
or girl of average intelligence may be trained to successful
authorship if only he or she is willing to work hard enough
and long enough at the trade. Even imagination can be cul-
tivated. Of course the literary apprentice must know how
to apply the rules of grammar, must practise clearness and
conciseness of style, must know how to use books of refer
ence, must have what is known as a liberal education, and,
above all, must be possessed of agenuine liking forhis chosen
calling. After leaving his school or college he should spend
at least two years — and four would be better — as a re-
porter, a private secretary, an amanuensis to some skilled
writer, or as assistant editor of some, first-class publication
that insists upon the use of grammatical English in its col-
umns. During this apprenticeship he may try his hand at
sketches, essays, or short stories, and must learn to accept
calmly a dozen disappointments with each success.
When the author is ready to write a book his most dif-
ficult, task is to select a subject that shall be interesting,
timely, and not already overdone. It must be one that he
can write about from his own experience, or from the ex-
perience of others. The latter may be gained from books
or from the verbal accounts of those who have been through
with what he desires to describe ; but a book compiled
from other books is apt, to be dull and lifeless, while one
dealing with a personal experience is almost certain to be
interesting. "Mark Twain's" best books are those based
upon his own life on the Mississippi, in Western mining
camps, or while travelling abroad. The great charm of
Miss Alcott's stories lay in the fact that she wrote of her
STJTCIJING THE SHEETS.
SETTING UP THE BOOK.
every-day surroundings. The absorbing interest of Cap-
tain King's Cadet Days is due to the author's absolute
knowledge, from personal experience, of the joys and sor-
rows, the trials and triumphs, of West Point life. Thus to
be a successful writer of books one must have something
to say, and must know how to say it. To these qualifica-
tions must be added tireless industry, boundless patience,
aud a determination to succeed in spite of all obstacles.
Let us suppose that our author decides to write a book
for boys, and to make it a mining-story. But he has never
been down in a mine, nor even seen one. He knows no-
thing about mines from personal experience. Under
these circumstances it
is clearly his duty to
visit the nearest min-
ing region, and remain
there long enough to
become familiar with
its life, its scenery, and
its incidents, before he
attempts to describe
them. From such a
trip he returns to his
workshop with a thor-
ough knowledge of
what he desires to
write about. Before
beginning the actual
work of •writing he
must plan his book,
decide how many chap-
ters it is to contain,
and what shall be their
length ; lay out, either
on paper or in his
mind, the general
scheme of his story ; se-
lect a name for his
hero, aud, if possible,
decide upon a title;
fur it is better to fit a
story to a title thau to
fit a title to a story.
796
HAKPEK'S HOUND TABLE
In these preliminaries the
author has invested a
month or more of time, and
lias expended a certain
amount of money. In oth-
er wordB,]he has paid for the
stock of goods upon which
he hopes to realize a profit.
Now he is ready to enter
upon the building of his
book.
As writing is among the
most tiresome and exhaust-
ing forms of labor, it should
never be allowed to occupy
more than eight hours of
each day, and the best re-
sults are reached in four or
five hours, followed by a
change of employment, re-
creation, out-of-door exer-
cise, or complete rest for
the remainder of the day.
Every book should be writ-
ten twice, the first draft be-
ing made on soft unglazed
paper with a No. 2 pencil,
while the second is a re-
vised and punctuated copy, written in ink or type-written
on sheets of a medium size. The neatness of a manu-
script has much to do with its favorable, reception at the
hands of an editor or a publisher's reader. Some authors
do not write at all, but dictate to a stenographer or an
amanuensis; but this requires extra practice, and is gener-
ally so expensive a method that it can only be adopted by
those who have an assured market for their work, or are
uot obliged to earn a livelihood.
At length our book is written ; a fair copy of the original
rough draft has been made, and provided with chapter
headings, title page, and table of contents. The precious
manuscript is put into a box the exact size of its sheets,
sent off to a publisher, and, with his occupation gone, the
anxious author waits days, weeks, and sometimes mouths,
for news of his venture.
Very few publishers have either the time or inclination
for a personal reading of books in manuscript, and for this
work they employ skilled readers upon whose judgment
they can rely. Some houses thus retain as many as six
Biich readers, and very often a manuscript book must pass
through the hands of all these, taking its turn with scores
of others, before a decision is reached concerning it. Each
reader hands in a written opinion as to its merits and de-
IN THE BINDERY.
PRESS-ROOM.
merits, its chances of success or failure. Sometimes, if these
opinions are conflicting, the publisher hands them all, to-
gether with the book in question, to a seventh reader — a
sort of a court of final appeal — and requests him to write?
an opinion on the opinions. Even if all the opinions are
favorable, the publisher may still refuse to bring out the
work in question. There are a hundred good reasons for
declining to publish a book, and the manuscript must
run the gauntlet of them all. It may be too long or too
short, or too similar to something else already in hand.
Its principal characters may he too young or too old. It
may not be in a certain publisher's peculiar line, or it may
contain sentiments of which he does not approve. He m:iv
already have, accepted as many hooks as he cares to issue
in that year. This one may he interesting but badly writ-
ten, or it may be beautifully expressed and as dull as dish-
water. Thus an endless list of "mays," " ifs,'' and "lints"
present themselves, by any one of which the fate of the
hook may he influenced. The one question to which they
all lead is: "Will it pay? If so, we will publish it; if not,
we won't."
Of course publishers and publishers' readers some) inn"-
make mistakes concerning the value of a book, and de-
cline one that, in the hands of another publisher, or brought
out at the. author's expense, achieves a tremendous success.
lu fact, there is hardly a popular book about which some
tale of this kind is not told.
Our book having escaped the many perils that beset it,
and been accepted, the publisher makes the author one of
three offers for it. He will buy it outright, publish it siib-
ject to royalty, or on shares. If lie buys it and its copy-
right outright, he gives an unknown author for his tirst
book from §1(MI to $400, rarely more ; while oilers to well-
known and successful authors often run up into tin- thou-
sands of dollars.
If the agreement is to publish on the royalty plan, the
offer to an unknown author will lie that of a tcn-pcr-eent.
royaltvon the retail price of his book after nne llnnisainl
enpies shall have, been sold. Il ensls from .-.Inn to >."."ii to
publish one thousand copies of I In- ordinal -\ one - dollar
book. One hundred or more of these are given to editors
or critics for the sake of the adv ert ising emitaiiu'd in such
notices as they may \v rite a lion t the hook. The remainder
are sold In the trade .-it a -lil-per-cent. discount from tin- re
tail price. The disposal in this manner "!' IMIHI ,-,,],i,
] k not only pays the cost of its publication, but generally
yields a small protit to the publisher.
By getting a onc-cloil.-ir 1 k I'm- sixtv cents, or "forty
off,"aa tln-x saj in the trade, the dry -goods -I MI vs. vv ho now
sell a great many books, and the regular retail book.-.
797
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
are able to offer it at 65 or 70 or 75 ceuts, and still make a
profit ou it; while at the same time the publisher is obliged,
by his agreement with the trade, to charge the full list
price for every copy of a book that he sells at retail. For
this reason it is generally cheaper to buy a book from a
dealer than from the publisher.
If a hook is successful enough to run into a second edi-
tion or reach its second thousand, which very few first
books ever do, then the author begins to receive ten cents
for every copy sold, it', however, it fails to pass its first
thousand, he receives nothing for his labor, except tbe ad-
vertising of his name gained by the publication of a book.
A well-known and popular author whose work is certain
to sell, bringing out a book ou the royalty plan, receives
from 10 to 15 per cent, on every copy sold from the very
first.
The copyright life of a. book, or the time during which it
will pay its author a royalty, is fourteen years, and may be
•extended, by application, fourteen years longer.
If the publisher and author agree to bring out a book
"ou shares," it means that they shall share equally all ex-
penses and profits. In any case a long and formidable
contract is drawn up, which both parties must sign before
the book can be "put in hand," or enter upon the second
stage of its building.
After a publisher has arranged to bring out a book, the
questions for him to decide concerning it are: At what
time of year shall it appear? Whether or not it shall be
illustrated? What shall be its size, its style of type, the
•weight of its paper, and the form of its binding? How
many copies shall be printed? How much money shall be
•expended in advertising it. f etc., etc. Occasionally the
-author is consulted einieerniug some of these questions,
especially in regard to illustrations, tor which he is some-
•tiines requested to furnish photographs; hut more often he
is not. The publisher, who bears the expense of illustrat-
iug the book, generally reserves the right to select the
-artist for this work as well as to decide upon the number,
•the style, and the size of the pictures.
There is so much art in the making of a book that, by the
aid of large typo, wide, spaces between lines, heavy paper,
and broad margins a small manuscript may suffice for a
large volume; while by the use of small type set "solid,"
thin paper, and narrow margius an immense amount of
matter may be compressed into very small compass. As a
rule the large or medium-sized volumes, especially among
those known to the trade as " Juveniles," sell best, for there
are many people who in the purchase of books follow the
plan of the Chinaman in buying shoes, and select the
largest size to be had for the money.
After forming the subject of innumerable consultations
'between those interested in its success, our manuscript
book is finally " put in hand," or sent to the foreman of
the composing-room, who scatters its pages here and there
among his printers. As soon as half a dozen or teu or
twenty sheets have been "set up" or turned into type, a
galley-proof is " pulled " and handed to the proof-reader for
correction. The galley is a long, narrow, brass-lined frame,
in which a column of type is placed. The face of this type
is inked with a baud-roller, a long strip of white paper is
laid over it, and the whole goes into a hand-press. The
printing thus done is not very iine, but it is plenty good
enough to enable the keen-eyed proof-reader to detect any
errors that have been made. He marks these on the mar-
gius of the proof, and hands it back to the compositors, each
of whom corrects the mistakes appearing in the portion he
has set. There is no more interesting sight in a composing-
room than that of a. skilled compositor making these correc-
tions, picking out and replacing the little black types, trans-
ferring whole lines or paragraphs from one place to another,
spacing, leading, punctuating, without dropping a type or
making a mistake. The untrained eye can make nothing
at all out of the type column, which has the same effect
as the mirror reflection of an ordinary page.
After all corrections are thus made, another galley-proof,
called a " revise,'' is pulled. Several copies of this are made,
two of which are sent to the author of the book. There is
110 prouder iior happier moment in the life of an author
than when he receives the first proofs of his first hook.
Never again will they appear so beautiful or so precious,
though every author who is interested in his work always
enjoys reading the proofs of each new book, no matter how
mauy he may write. His ideas present such a different
appearance in type from what they did in manuscript that
lie hardly recognizes them. His characters have attained
such a dignity and reality that he almost needs au intro-
duction to them.
On this galley-proof the author makes such changes and
corrections as he pleases, though of course the fewer the
better, and then sends one copy back to the composing-
room, where all the alterations he has suggested are made
in type. The galley columns are now broken into pages
of the size previously agreed upon, and a set of page-proofs
is pulled and sent to the author for his final revision. He
must read this proof very carefully, for this is his last
chance to make changes, and whatever passes this time
must go into the finished book. When this page-proof re-
turns to the composing-room, and the final corrections are
made in the types, they are sent to the foundry. Here
stereotypes are made from them in the manner described
under the title "The Making of a Great Newspaper" in Vol.
XV. of HAKPEK'S YOUNG PEOPLE. For book-printing these
type-metal stereotypes are converted into electrotypes by
being hung in an acid bath, where, ill a very short time,
by the action of electricity, they are coated with a thin
film of copper.
The finished plates are sent down to the basement of the
great building, where are the book-presses that will turn
out printed sheets of from four to thiity-two pages each,
almost as fast as the huge cylinder presses of a newspaper
office can turn out newspapers.
On the press the printed pages of our book meet and
make the acquaintance of the illustrated or picture pages
with which they are henceforth to be so intimately asso-
ciated. In the building of a book the artist's part must by
no means be overlooked, for a well-illustrated book, espe-
cially if intended for youthful readers, like the one we are
considering, is doubled iu value by its pictures. For ordi-
nary books very little engraving or wood-cutting is now
done, since by the aid of photography and electricity so
mauy cheap processes for reproducing drawings have been
discovered that the slower methods of the engraver are
only employed for the very best and finest work. If
the picture is to be engraved it is either drawn directly on
the wood or transferred to it by photography; while if it is
to he reproduced by one of the cheaper processes, it is pho-
tographed on a prepared plate of metal, from which the
light, spaces are eaten out by acids, while the shadows re-
main untouched. The thin plate is given a substantial
wood-hacking to preserve its form, and is then ready for
use.
From the press-room the printed sheets are sent to the
bindery, where they are folded, once into quartos (4tos),
twice into octavos (8vos), three times into sextodecimos
(16mos), or into any other size that shall have been agreed
upon. Then the sheets are stitched together, pressed, their
edges are cut by powerful machine knives, and the whole,
fiually glued into its cover, is set aside under pressure to
dry. '
The making of covers is a distinct branch of book-build-
ing that gives employment to a great many skilled work-
men and workwomen. The most conspicuous of these is
the artist who draws the cover design, and suggests its
scheme of color — for the sale of a book depends very large-
ly upon whether or not its cover is attractive. Covers are
made of paper, cloth, or leather. Most hooks are bound in
'• cloth." as it is called, which means pasteboard, covered
with muslin stiffened with siziug, and colored a uniform
tint before the design is stamped or printed ou it. A book
bound in "boards" is enclosed between covers of paste-
board, and one bound in calf or morocco has its heavy
pasteboard covers hidden beneath very thin sheets of lea-
ther. The inside of covers is often made of "marbled"
paper, and one of the most interesting corners of the bind-
ery is that devoted to marbling. Here a bath of gum-traga-
cauth, looking like a mass of smooth black glue newly
798
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
melted, lias wet colors sprinkled over it from paint-brushes.
These are drawn iuto lines or figures \vitli coarse wooden
combs. A dampened sheet of paper is spread over tlie col-
ored surface, quickly withdrawn thoroughly "marbled, "and
bung on a line to dry.
In another corner of the room busy girls are applying
gilding to covers from packets of gold leaf; while else-
where dozens of others are doing different and equally in-
teresting things, all belonging to the great trade of book-
binding.
At length our book, having passed through all these
stages and processes, is pronounced complete, and a date is
set for its " publication " or presentation to the public. On
the day that it appears half a dozen copies are sent to the
author with compliments of the publisher. If the author
wishes any more copies of his book to present to his admir-
ing friends, he must buy them and pay for them like any
one else.
Thus the building of the book is finished, and it is
launched on the stormy sea of literature, to sink or swim
according to whether or not it has been constructed of
poor material by incapable workmen, or has been well and
wisely built.
CLOTH OF GOLD.
CLOTH of ermine covered
The earth awhile ago,
A royal robe oil every hill;
In every valley low
The sparkle as of diamonds,
The sheen of dancing light,
And the world a fairy palace
By dawn and noon and night.
Cloth of gold is woven
To wrap the earth to-day,
With stars of many twinkling rays,
Broadcast upon the way.
The dandelions laughing,
The daisies coming soon,
And the world's a fairy palace
By morn and night and noon. M. E. S.
ON BOARD THE ARK.*
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTER f.
T took a long time for Tommy Tod-
dles to recover from the exquisite
sensation of surprise and wonder
which clung to him after his
strange adventures with the
Sheep and the ex -Pirate. He
used to talk to his Uncle Dick con-
tinually of what he had seen and
done during that famous after-
noon, and many and many a time
the two went out into the woods
together and searched through the bushes and the trees
for the haunt of the Loon, and for the lake by the side of
which had stood the Poor-house. But they never found
anything; and Tommy was consequently forced to sit at
home and content himself with recollections and reminis-
cences—" which are decidedly unsatisfactory substitutes,"
thought he.
So it frequently happened that the little boy sat all alone
in the big room at the top of the house, and went over and
over again in his mind those peculiar incidents in which
so many strange creatures had figured, and in which so
many odd things had been said and done. But one raiin
day he seemed to be more aftected by those reminiscences
* " On Board the Ark " is a sequel to " The Strange Adventures
of Tommy ToJdles," which began in No. 790.
than he had ever been before, and so he settled back on
the window-seat, and gave himself up entirely to thoughts
of the ex-Pirate, the SI p, the. Reformed Burglar, and to
all the, quaint creatures of his acquaintance. He was smil-
ing quietly to himself at some of the funny things Thing-
Mini, ob had said on the beach, when all of a siiddi-n lie
thought he heard somebody knocking on the door. Nobody
ever knocked before coming into Tommy's play-room, and
so the little boy looked up in a curious \\ a\ , wondering
who it could be, and wishing that no one would come in
to disturb his reverie. The door was ajar, bnl be could see
that there was some person standing out in the hall. Pre-
sently there was another knock. Tummy straightened up
on the window-seat, and called out,
" Come in !"
The door swung slowly in ward, and who should be stand-
ing there looking straight at Tommy but his old friend the
ex-Pirate ! It was the same old ex-Pirate of days and da\ 9
ago, with his fierce mustaches and long hair, and his big
pistols sticking out of his sash. He looked at Tommy for
a moment, just as if he wanted to make sure that he was
calling on the right little boy, and then a pleasant smile
spread all over his face, and he walked rapidly across the
room. Tommy jumped from the window-seat and hastened
to meet him.
"Why, I'm awfully glad to see you!" he exclaimed.
"How do you do, Mr. ex-Pirate ? And how did von get up
here?"
The ex-Pirate laughed, and shook hands with Tommy,
and then he said : "Oh, I just came. Things come and go.
you know; and I just came. Wasn't it nice?"
"Awfully nice," said Tommy, enthusiastically. "I've
1 n thinking a lot about yon. I was beginning to think
you were not real."
" Oh yes, I'm real," asserted the ex-Pirate. "Just as real
as you are."
"Perhaps I'm not real." suggested Tommy; and then,
becoming alarmed at the thought, he felt in his pockets,
and pulled at his hair to see if he was all there. Reas-
sured on that point he added, " Where is the Sheep ?"
"I guess he's running yet," answered the ex -Pirate,
laughing. "Poor fellow; I left him 'way behind. But I
never saw anybody run like you in all my life. Yon ran
faster than Time, and Time runs pretty fast now, I tell you !
He can go pretty near as fast as Money — and you know
how fast Money goes."
Tommy did not know how fast money went, because he
had never seen very much of it, but he thought that, from
the nature of his past business, the ex-Pirate must have
had wide experience in those matters. So he said, "I sup-
pose so."
"That's right," continued the ex-Pirate. "That's per-
fectly right. But I ran as fast as I could, and I've only
just arrived."
" You must be tired," remarked the little b,.\ .
" Not at all. I never get tired. I'm ready to keep right
on, if you want to."
" Keep right on ?" queried Tommy.
"Yes."
"On what?"
"Why, looking for the animals," replied the ex-Pirate.
" But I found them." said Tommy.
" You did?" exclaimed the ex-Pirate, in surprise.
" Certainly. They were right here."
"Where?"
" Right in this room."
'• Well, where arc they now ?"
Tommy Toddles would have given bis word, fifteen min-
utes before the ex-Pirate asked bun this question, that his
Noah's Ark with the animals in it was on the lloor near the
table; but when he went to look for it to show it Lo bis
friend he could not find it anywhere.
" It's gone," he said finally, alter several minutes of vain
seaiehing under tables and sofas. " It 's gone, and all the
animals too."
"They've gone .'" repeated the ex-Pirate.
"Yes." said Tomm\. dejectedly, "they've gone away
again. Not only the animals, but the AiL.'
799
HARPEE'S EOUND TABLE
THROUGH THK HALLS OF TIME.
"The Ark!" exclaimed the ex-Pirate.
" Certaiuly," said Tommy. " My animals belonged in the
Ark. There were two of each."
" In Noah's Ark ?" said the ex-Pirate.
"Yes; did yon never see one?"
"Why, what nonsense!" laughed the ex-Pirate. "That
was hundreds and hundreds of years ago."
"I know it was," said Tommy, with dignity. "But my
animals were imitations."
The ex-Pirate was gazing absent-mindedly out of the
window over toward the ocean. "Your animals had invi-
tations?" he said presently, recovering himself. "Of
course. They all did. The Ark was no promiscuous affair.
There was admission by card only. All those that had in-
vitations got in; the others got drowned."
Tommy saw that the ex-Pirate did not quite understand
what he had said to him, so he thought it would be wiser
to branch out on some other topic, but before he could do
so his visitor remarked,
"They had lots of fun in the Ark," and he chuckled to
himself.
• " How do you know ?" asked the little boy.
"The Sheep told me. He was one of the Few Hundred.
I should like to have been on board too."
"So should I," assented Tommy, eagerly, "especially if
they were all as nice as the animals we met the other day."
"It would have been fun to take that trip," continued
the ex-Pirate, musingly. "I don't know bnt that we can,
•even now, fix it to go on board."
"On board the Ark ?" cried Tommy.
"Exactly. We would have to go a long way back
through the Ages; but perhaps we can fix that up with
old Father Time. He might take us back and let us go
aboard."
Tommy stared vacantly at his peculiar companion, and
wondered silently if he had gone mad. Pretty soon the ex-
Pirate said,
" Let's go."
" Where ?"
" On board the Ark."
"How shall we do it?" asked Tommy, who felt that it
•could do no harm to humor his caller.
"We will find Father
Time, and see if he will go
backwards for us. Where
is the clock?"
" In the hall down stairs,"
answered the little boy.
The two went out into
the corridor and down the
stairs to where the old
Dutch clock stood under
the staircase, ticking loud-
ly through the silent house.
It was much taller than
either Tommy or the ex-
Pirate, and as they ap-
proached the little boy was
amazed to see the clock's
face brighten up and smile,
and wave its hands in greet-
ing to the ex-Pirate. The
latter returned the courte-
ous salute, and knocked ou
the door below. The door
immediately opened, and
old Father Time, with his
scythe and his hour-glass,
stepped out into the hall-
way, and nodded cheerfully
to the ex-Pirate.
" How do you do ?" said
he.
"Sixty seconds to the
minute as usual," answered
Father Time, genially.
" What can I do for
you ?"
"Can you go back a little?" asked the ex-Pirate, in-
quiringly.
" What for ?" asked Father Time.
And then the ex-Pirate started in to explain what lie
wanted. His argument was most involved, and Tommy
Toddles could not follow it at all ; but the latter kept on
talking as fast and as impressively as he could, and occa-
sionally he pulled out his pistols and shook them vigor-
ously in the air over his head. Father Time listened atten-
tively, and shook his head negatively for a long time, but
finally he appeared to yield to the ex- Pirate's persuasive
arguments, and when he spoke he said he would do what
was wanted.
"Will you go?" said the ex-Pirate, turning quickly to
Tommy. The little boy hesitated a moment, because he
did not know exactly where the ex-Pirate wanted him to
go, or how long he would be gone if he went; he hesitated,
but it was only for a moment, because he soon noticed that
Father Time was growing impatient,- and the ex- Pirate
looked slightly displeased at the delay.
"Oh yes, I'll go," he said, impulsively.
He had hardly spoken these words when Father Time si ling
his scythe and his hour-glass over his shoulders, grabbed
the ex-Pirate with one hand and seized Tommy with the
other. Then the old Dutch clock began burring and whiz-
zing, as if all the wheels were revolving as fast as they
could turn ; and they must have been, for when Tommy
glanced at the face of the clock to see what the hour was
the hands were racing around so fast that he could hardly
see them — and they were turning in the opposite direction
from the way clock hands usually travel. There was no
time to notice this slight peculiarity, however, for the little
boy felt himself rudely jerked off his feet, held firmly by
the tight grasp of Father Time, and before he could exclaim
or object or expostulate, he saw himself flying through
space at what seemed to be the rate of many hundreds of
miles a minute. Father Time was vigorously working his
wings, and was speeding backwards, his long gray beard
flowing in the wind between Tommy and the ex-Pirate,
who were sticking out straight behind, and neither of
whom had breath enough left to he able to say anything.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
800
SlNTERSCHOEASTICe!
A LTHOUGH IT MAY HAVE BEEN a surprise to many to see
_ii- Whitman play bis way through to the finals at the
Longwood Tournament last week, his success was hardly un-
expected by those who have been watch-
ing his work siuce his defeat by Ware on
Jarvis Field in May. Ware earned the
championship of the Boston schools on
that occasion, and he had to play hard
to do it, defeating Whitman 6-4, 6-3, 7-5,
but since that time his game seetns to
have fallen off slightly, whereas Whit-
man's has vastly improved. He let the
champion take the first set of their
match, 6-3, but in the three that follow-
ed, Ware only pulled out five games.
counter such a change in his rival's methods. Whitman
certainly showed greater confidence in himself than he did
on Jarvis Field, and was much more at home at the net.
Field. Cbapman.
(Captaio.) Parkhurat.
Cady.
IT CANNOT BE SAID, HOWEVER, that
Ware played poor teuuis, for that was
by 110 means the case. He played well —
he certainly had to play well to reach
the semi-finals— but Whitman played bet-
ter. Again and again, especially during
the first part of the match, Ware passed
his opponent at the net, which is Whit-
man's strong position. That kind of play
won him the first set; but Whitman
braced after that, and closed up, and
although Ware got the balls over the
net. he could not pass him. Ware lacked
head-work in placing. He seemed to lose
much of his coolness as soon as Whit-
man came up to him, and instead of lob-
bing, as he ought to have done, or of
going up to the net himself, he placed
the balls frequently to his opponent's
advantage and to his own discomfiture. I had expected to
see Ware put up a strong offensive game, but his play was
mostly defensive. He had evidently not expected to eu-
HARTFORD HIGH-SCHOOL TRACK -ATHLETIC TEAM.
Champions o£ the Connecticut High-School Athletic Association.
IT MAY BE THAT SOME of Ware's weakness was due to his
lack of practice, as he injured his wrist in June and did
not touch a racquet for four weeks; hut I doubt if he could
L. E. Ware, umpiring.
Hovey.
FINAL MATCH OF THE LONGWOOD TENNIS TOURNAMENT.
801
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
have defeated Whitman at Longwood, even if he had been
in the form that made him champion at the Interscholas-
tics. He will have to do some hard work between now
and the date of the Newport Tournament if he wishes to
hold his own there. He must pull himself together and
keep from falling into that listless style of play which
proved so disastrous to him in the last two sets against
Whitman. The latter now stands a good chance of carry-
ing oft' the honors of the year, if present form may be de-
pended upon to be prophetic. He has beaten at Longwood
ineu who were considered his superiors, and he only met
defeat at the hands of a man who is rated as the fourth
player in the United States.
THE HovEY-Wm T.MAN MATCH was one of the most in-
teresting of the week, in spite of the fact that it was evi-
dent from the start that the school player was outclassed.
This fact might not have been so patent if Whitman had
kept his nerve better, but he seemed to be afraid of his an-
tagonist from the very outset, and did not put up anywhere
near so good a game as he did against Ware. Hovey ap-
parently realized this weakness, and kept close up to the
net. Whitman made his greatest mistake in falling back,
for Hovey's net game is hard to beat. This also gave
the champion an opportunity to do some sharp volleying
with a stitf wrist and forearm — strokes that the younger
player was unable to return. Occasionally Whitman made
some brilliant plays, but he was overshadowed by the vet-
eran.
HOVET TOOK THE FIRST FOUR GAMES Lllgely On his op-
pouent's nervousness, but in the fifth he drove out of court
twice, and Whitman got in a first -rate side-line place.
Thus with the score 40-15 in his favor he ought to have
taken the game, but he let Hovey pull it up to deuce, and
then he drove out, giving Hovey vantage, which was fol-
lowed by a hot rally, ending in a sharp stroke that Whit-
man was unable to reach. In this set Whitman made but
ten points to Hovey's twenty-six, and not until the third
game of the second set did the Interseholastic player se-
cure a game. Even this was somewhat of a gift, for Hovey
started in with a double fault and then drove into the net.
The fifth game showed some pretty rocky playing on both
sides, but Whitman finally secured his vantage on a clever
side-line place, and made game on Hovey's wild drive out
of court. The sixth game of this set was also deuce — for
Whitman was doing his best work at this juncture — but it
went to Hovey, who, having coaxed his opponent into back
court, dropped a teaser just over the net. The set score was
38—28, the closest of the match.
IN THE LAST SET Whitman began to lose some of the timid-
ity which had characterized his play up to this point, and
in the third game, when Hovey had him 40-0, he worked it
up to deuce, but unfortunately eventually lost on drives
out of court. He kept his nerve, nevertheless, and earned the
fourth game with steady, and at times, brilliant work. Hovey
could not connect on the young man's serve and drove out.
Whitman then ran up to the net and scored a beautiful
side place, making it 40-0. I cannot help feeling that if
he had done more of this work he would have kept Hovey
playing an hour longer for his win. The score then went
from 40-0 to 40-30, but Hovey followed with a drive out,
and it was Whitman's game. This was the end of the
latter's good work. Hovey took a brace and had it all his
own way until the end, giving Whitman only two points
in the next three games, closing the set with the score 27-
13. Whitman is only seventeen years old, and goes to Har-
vard in the fall. His school in Boston was Hopkinson's,
although for five years previous to this last he attended
the Roxbury Latin School. Ware is a Roxbury Latin
player, and also enters Harvard with the class of'J'J.
BESJDKS WHITMAN AND WARE another scholastic player
at Lung wood « as W. M. Scudder, of St. Paul's. He has the
making of a good player, but only got as far as the first
round, when he met Paret, and was defeated, 1-6. 6-2, 5-7,
6—4,6—3. Scudder played a good game in this match, in
spite of his ill-success, volleying and smashing with a de-
gree of proficiency that would have done credit to many
an older player. Paret won by better head-work, but I a,m
ciuilideiit Scudder will be heard from later on.
THE REFERENCE TO NEW ENGLAND football made in these
columns two weeks ago has aroused the interest of a num-
ber of readers in that section, and several questions have
been asked about the origin of the present association.
The subject is of enough general interest to receive a little
more space than it was possible to devote to it last time.
It is of enough general interest, because this football
league, with the possible exception of the New York Inter-
scholastic track-athletic organization, was the first inter-
scholastic association formed in this country. It came
about in a very natural way in the full of 1888. Harvard
football men had for several years been deploring the ne-
cessity of devoting two or three weeks at the beginning of
each fall term to the weeding out and selection of new
football material, and the idea finally suggested itself that
if the schools could be used for this purpose the university
would gain much by such an arrangement. It then be-
came clear that the way to use the schools would be to get
up some sort of a football league that would train players
who would eventually enter Harvard, and furnish material
for the university eleven.
THIS IDEA OF ORGANIZING an iuterscholastic league ema-
nated from the fertile brain of R. Seaver Hale, tlien in col-
lege. He consulted with Captain Sears, of the 'Varsity
football team, with F. C. Woodman, C. A. Porter, and A. P.
Butler, members of the eleven, and with Fred i'isk, who
took a living interest in the athletic welfare of the. college.
These six men discussed Hale's idea, and then decided to
put in $25 apiece and to oft'er a cup which should be con-
tested for by football teams from the Boston schools.
WHEN THE QUESTION WAS SUBMITTED to the school foot-
ball players it was looked upon favorably at once by
them, and the interseholastic association was formed. The
schools to come in were the Cambridge High and Latin,
the Roxbury Latin, the Boston Latin, I'lnmncy Hall, Hop-
kinson's, Nobles, and Hale's, Nichol's, and Stone's combined.
The six Harvard men then got together again, and drew up
rules and regulations which should govern the playing for
the cup. Hale was the Thomas Jefferson of the crowd,
and turned out a code of laws that suited the schools per-
fectly.
THE FORMATION OF THE LEAGUE created a great boom
in football in the schools. Up to that time playing had
been of a desultory nature, and games had been arranged
from week to week as the captains chose. There had
never been any training or system. Now all this changed.
Schedules were prepared and adhered to, and the players
all made it a point to keep in as good training as possible.
Each school had its eye on the cup. The Harvard men
were much pleased at the success of their scheme, and the
'Varsity Captain looked hopefully toward the development
of good material for the next year. The donors of the cup
acted as a sort of advisory committee, and kept a general
supervision over the league.
THINGS PROGRESSED FAIRLY on this line for a while, until
the sport was so generally taken up all over the country
that the college players no longer felt the necessity for
taking that parental interest in the schools which had
prompted the offering of a cup. Succeeding 'Varsity Cap-
tains, who had not gone through the labors of Sears and his
predecessors to get good material, did not quite see the ne-
cessity for devoting their time to overseeing scholastic
matches, and so the schools gradually took the manage-
ment of their league into their own hands. The teams be-
longing to the association increased so in number, that the
association had to be divided into two parts, known re-
spectively as the Senior League aud the Junior League,
the Seniors playing each year for the cup, the Juniors play-
ing for a pennant. The winner of the Junior League eu-
802
HAKPEK'S ROUND TABLE
tered the Senior League the following year.
The latter was kept under the management
of the donors of the cup, but the Juniors
more or less ran themselves.
THIS METHOD HAS XOW AGAIN beeu
changed, as described in the ROUND TABLE
two weeks ago. There is henceforth to he
only one League playing in two divisions.
In the first are six Seniors playing for the
cup ; in the second, all the rest playing for
a pennant. At the end of the season, or at
the beginning of the next season, the last
team of the first section will play the first
team in the second to see whether they
change places. This arrangement will serve
to keep the first division always made up
of six teams.
THE MANAGEMENT OF BOTH divisions rests
in one committee composed of three mem-
bers of the schools, the Captain of the Har-
vard eleven two Harvard meu, who replace
the original cup donors, and one graduate
of the schools, who may be a Harvard man,
but who at present is a Tufts College man,
a graduate of the En<«lish High -School.
This makes seven in all. It is well that one
of the committee should not be a Harvard
man, and so the presence of the Tufts man
makes the arrangement as just as it should
be. Harvard having offered the cup, should,
of course, always retain a controlling voice
in the councils of the association.
THE HIGH-SCHOOL OF STOCKTON, Califor-
nia, will apply fur membership in the Aca-
demic Athletic League of the Pacific coast
at the opening of the next school term, and
as there is no reason to suppose admission
will be refused we shall doubtless see some
Stocktonians in the front ranks at the next
semiannual field-day. Stockton H.-S. has a
good record in athletics, and in addition to
the regulation sports of the school list they
indulge in rowing. The Stockton Athletic
Club has for some time allowed the High-
School oarsmen to use their barges, and the
interest in aquatics has become so lively
that a race may soon be arranged with the
Oakland High-School. O. H.-S. has not
rowed any yet, but there is a movement on
foot to get the use of the University of Cali-
fornia boats that are kept on Oakland Creek,
not far from the school, and as this courtesy
will doubtless be granted to the boys by the
U.C. Navy, a water contest may not be far
distant.
OF THE ELEVEN MEN who carried oft" the
championship of the Connecticut High -
School A.A. for the Hartford High-School,
Lawrence, Field, Ingraham, and Parkhnrst
have graduated, and Cady will go to Au-
dover for a year before entering Yale. These
departures will greatly weaken the H.H.-fc
team, and the Captain must now look to the
development of new material, or else those
ponies from Lakeville will come down again
next spring and this time take the cham-
pionship back with them to the Hotchkiss
School.
HARTFOKD'S LOSS is ANDOVER'S GAIN. At
the New England Intel-scholastics last June,
Audover took both the high and the low
hurdles with Hine; and in the dual games
against Worcester, Audover got the high
hurdles with Holt, losing the low race to
Worcester through Barker. Both Hine and
Holt graduated this year, however, and
Audover would have been left without a
hurdler if Cady had not ileeiilrd to spend a
year in Massachusetts. Cady did not make
a very strong showing at the Connecticut
H.-S. A.A. games this year because of a dis-
located shoulder. He ran second to Field
in the high, and third in the low hurdles.
But I feel confident that he has good speed,
which careful and systematic training is sure
to bring out. He will make a valuable ac-
quisition to Andover's athletic team. Some
day he will he as good a man as his brother.
THE GRADUATE.
Any questions in regard to photograph matters will be willingly
iswered by the editor of this column, and we should be glad to hear
from any of our club who can make helpful suggestions.
PAPERS FOR BEGINNERS, NO. 10.
PRINTING PROCESSES: TUE BLUE PRINT.
THE number of processes used for photog-
raphy are many. The very simplest is
the blue-print paper. This quality is not
the only one which recommends it alike to
the beginner and the advanced amateur.
It is nearly equal to the best silver prints
in detail and clearness, and, unlike them, is
absolutely permanent. It does not require
any manipulation after printing except
washing in clear water. It is only half the
price of silvered paper, and if prepared at
home is still less expensive. Then blue
paper is specially adapted to water pictures
and to landscapes where there are plenty
of clouds in the sky, and to those which
have a long perspective with hills or moun-
tains in the distance.
The ready -prepared paper costs twenty
cents for a 4x5 package containing two
dozen sheets. That prepared at home will
cost about five cents for the same quantity.
The process of printing with blue paper
is as follows: Place the negative in the
printing-frame, glass side out, lay a sheet of
blue paper ou the film side, fasten in the
frame and expose to bright sunlight. Blue
prints may be made on a cloudy day, but
the quicker they are printed the clearer and
sharper will be the picture. Print until
the shadows are slightly bronzed — that is,
have a sort of metallic or shiny look, and
are a bluish-greeu in color.
Take the print from the frame and place
it i'aee up iii a tray <if clear water, ami In it
Maud in the xnn for a minute, or two. am!
then wash I'm- liftei-n or t \\eiil.v minute* in
running water. If one has mil running
water, wash ihe print in a lew change-, ol
water till the water ceases to he I.
with tin; blue, color of the print. 11 the line
detail.-, ol' the pietmv uash out, the picture
has not beeu printed long enough. It' the
higher white lights in the picture are tinned
with blue, then the picture has been printed
too long.
After the print is washed siifliciently. lay
it between two clean pieces of white blot-
ting-paper to absorb (lie moisture, then pin
it up by the corner to dry.
It is very easy to sensitize the bine paper.
Any unglazed paper will answer, but the
Rives paper is the best. The following
formula was sent a few days ago by Sir
Knight Willis H. Kerr, University of Omaha,
Bellevue, Wisconsin :
No. 1.
Citrate of iron and ammonia 1 oz.
Water 4 "
No. 2.
Red prussiate of potash 1 "
Water 4 "
Keep the bottles in a dark place or
wrapped in black paper. Mix equal pints
of No. 1 and No. 2, and having first dampened
the paper with a brush or sponge put on
enough of the solution to tint the paper
evenly and apply lightly to avoid streaks.
As soon as the paper is dry it is ready for
use. The operation of sensitizing the paper
must be done by gas or lamp light.
SIB KNIGHT FRANK S. WHITNEY asks liow to mount
prints made on Omega paper without removing tin-
gloss, and also wishes a good formula for paste, and to
know just how mounting of prints is done. Trim the
prints ready for mounting before they are toned. Tone
them, and squeegee them to the ferrotype plate.
When they are thoroughly dry apply paste to the back
of the print before removing it from the ferrotype.
This will moisten the print just euough to let it t..- re-
moved from the plate without tearing or stiekiiiL',
loosening the corner first with the point of a pen-
knife. Have the card-mount ready, and lay the pic-
ture carefully on it just where it is to be pasted. The
prints treated in this way lose little of the gloss made
by the ferrotype plate. When first beginning to mount
pictures it is best to mark the place on the card w l,ei ,-
the picture is to be pasted. Lay a piece of tissur-j.a-
per over the face of the print, and rul> the -
over it lightly. Take off the paper, and if any paste has
oozed out from the edges of the print, wipe it oft rare-
fullyi Then lay a fresh piece of paper over I
and rub down smoothly. If one has no 90,11.
smooth silass bottle answers well for small prints.
For a formula for good paste see No.7S4.
ADVERTISEMENTS.
Highest of all in Leavening Power.— Latest U. S. Gov't Report
y Baking
_, Powder
ABSOLUTELY
HARPER'S NEW CATALO
Thoroughly revised, classified, an.l
by mail to any address on receipt of ten cents.
803
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
BICYCLING
This Department ia conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will be pleased to
answer any question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain nm< -h valuaMe data kindly
supplied from the official maps and road-books of the League of American Wheelmen. Recog-
nizing the value of the work being done by the L. A. W., the Editor wilt be pleased to furnish
subscribers with membership blanks and information so far as possible.
ONE of the prettiest and perhaps the best trip for an
afternoon ride in the vicinity of Philadelphia is to
run up through Fairmouut Park, following the Wissahiekou,
which is a branch of the Schuylkill, and return to Phila-
]Bicyc/e route
•Railway station.
L*^Hi]l orpoor road
Hoi el
Copyright, 1895, by Harper A Brothers.
delphia by Bryn-Mawr. The distance altogether is about
thirty-three or thirty-four miles, and the road is not only a
fine one from a bicyclist's point of view, but is most pic-
turesque, cool, and pleasant. Leaving the public buildings
at Broad and Market streets, proceed as described last
week, up Broad Street to Spring Garden Street ; turning
left into this follow it to the bridge, but instead of crossing,
this turn to the right through East Park, leaving the res-
ervoir on the right, and then keeping to the Schuylkill un-
til Street Lane is crossed. Here the Wissahiekou drive-
begins, and the grade from this point to the end of the
drive, while it is not the most level, is not by any means
too hilly for pleasant bicycle riding. At the end of the
Wissahickon drive turn left into
the new road, which has been re-
cently opened, thence turn riglit
up the Ridge Eoad, and continue
on to Barren Hill. Here you
should turn sharp to the left
again, and run down a hill, keep-
ing to the right at its foot. This
road carries you on to Spring
Mill, and from here the road again,
running along by the Schuylkill,
will bring you into Conshohock-
en,a distance of seventeen miles,
and a half from the public build-
ings in Philadelphia. The road
along the route is gravel, but it is
good bicycling over almost every
foot of it. There is no very good
stopping-place in Coushohockeu,
but tbe wheelman will tiud a road-
house which will serve the pur-
pose of a noonday meal very well.
LEAVING CONSHOHOCKEN, cross-
the river, going south west ward,
then continuing southward, fol-
low the route marked on the map
to Bryu-Mawr, the road from Cou-
shohockeu until Lancaster Ave-
nue is reached being easily fol-
lowed with the exception of a
sharp turn to the right soon after
crossing the river, and another
turn to the left a few moments
later. From Bryn-Mawr through
Arduiore, Overbrook, into Market
Street at the ferry, is a straight
rim along Lancaster Avenue,
which is paved with Belgian
block pavement from the point
where it is joined by Fifty-fourth
Street to Forty-third Street, but
is otherwise a capital bicycle
route. A somewhat pleasanter
way to return from Coushohockeu
is to follow the western bank of
the Sehuylrull until you strike
Belmont Avenue. This is in cap-
ital condition, and will carry
you through Fail-mount Park. On
reaching Elm Avenue, turn left,
and again turn left into Girard
Avenue, and from this pointeither
continue, crossing the river and
running down Grand Avenue to
Grand Street, or turn to the right
just before crossing and follow
the western bank of the river ;is
far as Spring Garden Street, wlinv
another crossing may be made, and
the return to the public build-
ings followed as already de-
scribed.
As WAS SAID LAST WEEK, Phila-
delphia is most admirably suited
80 i
HAEPER'S KOUND TABLE
for bicycling, but it would be difficult to
iind a more picturesque mid than that
which rims up through Fairmoniit Park or
Jiast Park and out towards the source of the
\VissaIiickou, aud this run is one of the best
that can be found not only iu the vicinity
of Philadelphia, but anywhere in the United
States.
NOTE.— Map of New York city asphalted streets in
No. 809. Map of route from New York to Tarrytown
in No. S10. New York to Stamford, Connecticut, in
No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New
Jersey from Hobokeu to Pine Brook in No. 813.
Brooklyn in No. 814. Brooklyn to Babylon in No.
S15. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816. Tarrytown
to Ponghkeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsie to Hud-
son in No. 818. Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Tot-
tenville to Trenton in 820. Treuton to Philadelphia in
821. Philadelphia in No. 221.
IJHPUDDING;
This Department is conducted in the interest of Girla and Young
Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on
•the subject 80 far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.
THIS Pudding Stick will be a very prac-
tical aft'air. Iu these summer days,
Tvheu families are separated, or young peo-
ple are payiug visits to their friends, a great
many letters must be written, aud it is well
to know what sort of stationery to use, what
sort of ink is best, and, in brief, to under-
stand the small details which make a letter
or note graceful and elegant. The reverse
•of elegance is caused by lack of attention
to what seem to be mere trifles, yet, in a
•way, nothing is trifling.
Thick white note-paper without lines is
4he approved style for young ladies, the
;sheet of note-paper folded once iu the mid-
•dle to fit an envelope which comes with the
paper. Little girls may use the pretty
Brownie paper, or other note-paper with a
dainty device in the corner; but girls over
twelve years of age should confine them-
selves to the clear smooth white paper. If
you cannot write without lines to keep
your words from a zigzag course, slip in be-
tween the folds of your paper a heavily
Tuled sheet, which will be a guide until
practice enables you to control your hand
so that you can keep your writing straight
.and even without au outside help.
USH black ink and a good pen, steel or
:gold, as you prefer. Keep your pen iu per-
fect order.
Ax the top of your paper, a little to the
Bright hand, write very plainly your post-
office address. If your house has a special
name, as, for instance, " Sunnyside," " The
Owlery," "The Wren's Nest," "Riverbank,"
that will be first mentioned, but must be
followed by the names of your town, or
village, county, aud State. It is important
to give each of these in full. If you reside
in a city, your stivet and number must In-
plaiuly written at the top of your letter.
Should your letters be sent to a post-oftii/e
box, instead of to your bouse, give the num-
ber of the box. Never omit these details.
You cannot be sure that the most intimate
friend will not be glad to save herself the
trouble of looking up your address, aud the
proper thing is to be methodical aud begin
•a letter with care.
OF course, in corresponding with your
^parents, sisters, aud brothers, or dear school-
mates, you may be very affectionate in yonr
expressions. "Dearest Mother." " D.-iHinn-
Papa," " My Own Dear Mollie," are all ap-
propriate if your heart prompts you to
write iu this way to your home people. It
is well to be less demonstrative with others,
and " Dear Susie," or " My Dear John," are
in better taste when writing to your cousins
at a distance. "Dear" is considered less
formal than " My Dear." Should you have
occasion to write a letter of business, make
clear to your correspondent what you wish
to say. Business letters should be straight-
forward and to the point, and as short as
is consistent with telling all that ought to
be told. Home letters, and letters of affec-
tion, as also letters written when on a jour-
ney may be as long as you choose, anil as
far as possible, should be written as you
would talk, a letter beiug a talk on paper
to a friend out of sight.
No part of a letter is of more consequence
than the signature. I sometimes receive
letters from strangers, aud am wholly un-
able to ascertain the names of the writers,
their signature being so hurriedly written
that it is what we call blind. Do you not
think it worth while to write your name
plainly when you remember that the name
stands for you wherever you go, that it rep-
resents your character, that its lack makes
a legal document worthless, and adds worth
to whatever it is affixed? Always write
your name in full at the end of every letter,
preceding it by " Yours sincerely," or "Faith-
fully yours," or "Your loving daughter," or
any other appropriate form or phrase.
LAUGHING BABIES
are loved by everybody. Those raised on the Gail
Borden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk are compar-
atively free from sickness. Infant Health is a valu-
able pamphlet for mothers. Send your address for n
copy to New York Condensed Milk Co., N. Y.— [Adi:]
Co
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Fine Swiss, Nainsook, and
Cambric
EMBROIDERIES
33 1 % Under Regular Prices.
The Cranks
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in 1895.
Columbia
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differ from all
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bea'rings.easy
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No nuts or
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trousers.
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GET THE NEAREST AGENT
TO EXPLAIN.
POPE MANUFACTURING CO.
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all different, China, etc., 10c.; 5 Saxony, 10c.:
40 Spain, 40c.; 6 Tunis, 14c.; 10 IT. S. Rev-
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CRITTENDEN & BORG MAN CO., Detroit, Mich.
BAKER
ills recitations ami
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CATALOGUES FREE.
PLAYS
Good
Music
Franklin
Square
Song
Collection.
GOOD MUSIC arouses a spirit of good-will,
creates a harmonious atmosphere, and where
harmony and good-will prevail, the disobedient,
turbulent, unruly spirit finds no resting-place.
Herbert Spencer puts his final test of any plan of
culture in the form of a question. " Does it create
a pleasurable excitement in the pupils ?" Judged
by this criterion, Music deserves the first rank,
for no work done in the school room is so surely
creative of pleasure as singing. Do we not all
agree, then, that Vocal Music has power to bene-
fit every side of the child nature ? And in these
days, when we seek to make our schools the
arenas where children may grow into symmetri-
cal, substantial, noble characters, can we afford
to neglect so powerful an aid as Music ? Let us as
rather encourage it in every way possible.
.',/ AT Home or School
a bcfi<-> i ••'/</ Hymns than
in the Fi\tnklin St/it,;*,- Song Collection.
Sold Everywhere. Price, 50 cents ; Cloth
Full contents of the Several Numbers, with
nieii Pa^es of favorite Songs and Hymns, sent by
Harper & Brothers, New York, to any address.
HAEPEE'S EOUND TABLE
A Treat for the Husk Rack.
At the close of my former " Anecdotes of Von
Bulow," I wrote against the German conservato-
ries in general, and against Stuttgart in particular.
Here lire a few sentences on the same subject
taken from an article by John C. Filmore which
appeared in the December issue of llusic :
"Touch in general is of two kinds, that based
upon the blow principle and that based upon the
principle of pressure. The former was the kind of
touch universally prevalent. It is exemplified in
extreme degree in Plaidy's Technical Studies, and
in Lebhert and Stark. Unmodified by other ideals,
it produces a bard, rigid, unelastic touch, and a cor-
responding dryness and monotony of tone quality
such as makes really expressive and artistic piano-
playing impossible. This is the reason why the
Stuttgart Conservatory, with its hundreds of pupils,
yearly turns out no real artists. The pressure
principle has found place in the playing of many
European pedagogues without being adequately
analyzed or explained. Julius Knorr and his pu-
pils employed this kind of touch with beautiful ef-
fect; hut if any of them even so much as mentioned
the distinction between blow and pressure, I have
never been able to hear of it.
"The two most valuable .means of producing
that condition of the nervous and muscular appa-
ratus on which a sympathetic touch, based on the
pressure principle, depends, are, so far as I am
aware, the two-finger exercise of Dr. William Ma-
son, and the up-arin touch. This latter is very
lightly touched upon in the first volume of Mason's
Touch and Tedtidc ; but it is of enormous value, as
I have had occasion to know in the experience of
the last years, and vastly more can be done with it
than most players and teachers are aware."
I also stated in my last that Von Bulow was not
a great pianist. But that he was a popular pianist
there can be no doubt, though why he was popular
it is hard to understand ; for, according to Finck,
Von Bulow was a pianist in whom the intellectual
greatly overbalanced the technical and emotional ;
and so his playing, while it might be interesting in
a certain sense, was really dry from its lack of the
emotional quality. Perhaps it' Von Uiilov,' had been
born half a century later he might have been a
greater pianist, for at present the advantages for
piano students are much greater than formerly.
I suppose that when Von IJulow was young
Stuttgart and similar schools were in the lead, and
from those his technic touch and emotional ten-
dencies could not be as fully developed as at the
present day— not in Germany, but rather in Paris,
1,1 i-vi-n in the great musical centres of our own
country. But the great advantage that the " Home
of Music " has over us is in her concerts and opera ;
not so much quality as quantity, and at cheaper
rates. We have good concerts, but so few, com-
paratively, and too high-priced for the average
person to attend many. How can a violin or a
piano student in this country hear many violinists
or pianists? It is in this respect that Germany is
far ahead of us ; while it is in her system of piano
teaching and playing that she is pedantic and be-
hind the age ; and the sooner she awakens to a
realization of the unfortunate truth, the better it
will be for our nevertheless ever dear beloved Ger-
many.
N«w YORK CITY. MARIE THEKESE BEKGE.
1bauD.
We are glad to announce that the sum for the
Willie A. Grant memorial stone has been secured,
the contributors being :
A Friend, Maine .......................... $1
Grant Knauff ............................. 1
Sallie F. Hodges .......................... 25
Grace Pearl Richards ..................... 25
.1 .inn -s F. Rodgers ........................ 25
Kr.-,| W. Baxter ........................... 1
Thomas W. Smyt.be ...................... 60
Helen Hunt Ernie n I rout .................. 50
Fanny C. Mrll value ....................... 25
James W. Gerard, India .................. 1
The amount neeileil ...................... $6
These sums are f^iven to place a <oi-,iur memorial
stone in the School Building, Sir William having
contributed to the Fund 83 50. He was a Brooklyn
member, and died last year.
The following contributions have reached us
since last report :
Robert I. Wilson 10
W. S. M. Silber 1
Hubert and James Mitchell, Truman and
John Pierce, Samuel Caufield, and Allen
Russell 520
Miss J. F. Gillespie 1 75
George Pierce 2
Kirk Muuroe Chapter, of Kingmau, Ariz. 1
Iswa Finchon, South Africa 3 55
Henry S. Can by 1
G. W. Hinckley 1
Lancelot Chapter, of Newtonville, Mass. 3
Edison Chapter, of Bangor, Me 2
Virgilia M. Porter 50
Edith Cartledge 5
S. A.Rulon.Juu 10
Ruth S. Earle 10
Belvidere Chapter, of Daretown, N. J. . . . 5
Cornelius Newman 10
Cornelius S. Lombard! 1
PaulE.Good 1
Leonard, Florence, and Helen Whittier . . 1
Lois S. Miller 1
Esther R. Custer 1
3640
The Order is to raise $3000, if possible, and still
needs about $1000. Any sum from anybody is wel-
come. The Fund is to build an Industrial School-
house for the boys at Good Will Farm. These
boys are orphans and known to be deserving.
(.00 1> « 11,1, ID i i i
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL FUND
amount, $.
Contributor.
This money is contributed, not because it ie asked for, but becauat
I want to give it.
If you ose this Good Will Mite, simply pin it to vour letter,
in order tbat it may be detached for filing. If the' amount is
i.-i\ rn liv mure than one contributor, add blanks for their names,
hut :m:uh tbe added sheet firmly to the Mite, that it may not
f P detached and lost. Include a given name in each case,
mid \vrite plainly, to avoid errors on the Honor Roll.
s> Ik iii I? s. $
No. 92.— BEHEADINGS.
The beheaded letters, if rightly guessed, will spell
the name of a famous English revolutionist.
1. Behead cowardly, and leave a large black bird.
3. Behead a skating pavilion, and leave a writing-
fluid.
3. Behead a fruit, and leave to exist.
4. Behead a red pigment, and leave a serpent.
5. Behead to blow gently, and leave abaft.
6. Behead an occurrence, and leave an opening.
7. Behead to bind, and leave a unit.
8. Behead a den, and leave atmosphere.
No. 93. — COIN OF THE REALM.
Men will fight for sterling silver,
And hoard the shining gold ;
For the dollar is almighty,
With uses manifold.
There are various other moneys
Not taken in account,
That have their special values
And uses paramount.
1. There's one that's hard and brittle,
Grayish or silvery white;
'Tis used in bells and mirrors
To make them clean and bright.
2. One oft purchases an office.
Whii-h never should be sold.
3. One's the heritage of children,
In goods or lauds or gold.
806
4. This one ushers in another,
5. A union of two lives—
Oft a curious kind of lottery
For husbands or for wives.
6. This is paid as compensation
To many an injured wife;
7. And this is used as medicine-
Mayhap 'twill save a life.
8. This one curses every miser,
9. And this will bitter be ;
10. This is useful confirmation,
11. And this makes all agree.
No. 94.— FIVE WORDS SQUARES.
* * * * ****
**** * * * *
Upper left-hand square.— 1. To exist. 2. A metal.
3. Not good. 4. Extremities.
Upper right-hand square.— 1. To make a sound.
2. What heathens worship. 3. A knot. 4. A dale.
Central square.— 1. To utter with musical sounds.
2. A stone image. 3. Part of the head. 4. Joy.
Lower left-hand square.— 1. To bluster. 2. A no-
tion. 3. Tidy. 4. Outer door.
Lower right-hand square.— 1. Snakelike fishes.
2. To publish. 3. An acid fruit. 4. Apace.
Answers to Kinks.
No. 90.— Ben Bolt.
Odo. Mat. Shadrack. Fish. Ord. Count.
Sam. Mesheck. Bert. Hook. Key. Banks.
Lear. Abe. Abednego. Pasha. Eve. Herod.
Olive. Hi-man-. Ham. Ibsen. Kit. Wayne.
Church. Atlas. Will Low. King. Bird. Sar-
gent.
N
E
S
T
No. 91.
A M E
I S
L O
E R
(SJuesttons anfc answers.
Howard Notman, Keene Valley, N. Y., is inter-
ested in beetles, and wants to get specimens from
Florida, Mexico, Central and South America. In
return he will send good American specimens.
Barbara A: The new badges are delayed by the
decision about design. We shall, if possible, se-
cure the new gold badges for fifty cents each.
Margaret Slosson, Pittsford, Vt., says: "I wotdd
like to exchange fresh specimens — that is, ones not
pressed — of ferns described in Gray's Manual of
the botany of the northern United States. Will
those wishing ferns please send list of ferns want-
ed, and list of ones for exchange ?"
In the new form of the ROUND TABLE, the adver-
tisements are to be bound into the complete vol-
ume. Not a few people think the advertisements
far too interesting to throw away. Florence E-
Cowan, who belongs to a Chapter that has been
most active in helping the School Fund, suggests
that the Order gives to Good Will a library. We
like the suggestion, but think the best plan is to
first finish the Fund. Rebekah Philips Dix 1513
Jackson Street, San Francisco. Cal.,want.s to hear
from anybody interested in college yells and colors,
and especially asks "M. T," who started the dis-
cussion about yells, to write her.
The Lafayette Chapter, Norman Hart. Easton,
Pa., is to begin pul'lieatiou of L>>*«/' I!"'' *. irnl
wants original contributions that are short, say 300
words. The Lafayette is an active Chapter, and it j
paper ought to be a good one.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
A Good Trick in Dominoes.
Here is a trick played with dominoes which may
be new : Spread out a set of dominoes upon the
table, being careful to extract one for your own
use. Inform the company that if they will match
the dominoes you have laid down, using every
domino, you will, after leaving the room, deter-
mine the numbers at either end of the match. You
then leave the room, and read the numbers on your
stolen domino. This will almost infallibly prove
to be the end numbers of the match. When the
match has been formed and concealed by a hand-
kerchief, you enter the room and announce the
end numbers. VINCENT V. M. BEEDE.
'his Department is corxlm ti-<l in tl.,- inteu'st of stump Find coin
collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on
these subjects 80 far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor
Stamp Department.
HAVE you noticed that U. S. stamps are
now printed on water-marked p;i]irr?
The water-mark can be seen quite plainly
in the blank margin, but is very indistinct
in the stamps themselves. It consists of
the letters U S P S iu double line capitals
16 mm. high repeated, and the probable in-
tention was to have one of the letters on
each stamp. But if so the work has been
carelessly done by the paper- makers, as
there are only ninety letters to the one hun-
dred stamps, together with the two blank
margins on the two sides of each, sheet.
The arrangement is as
PSUSPSUSP
SUSPSUSPS
USPSUSPSU
SPSUSPSUS
PSUSPSUSP
SUSPSUSPS
USPSUSPSU
SPSUSPSUS
PSUSPSUSP
SUSPSUSPS
Only nine letters horizontally, to each of
the ten lines. It is to be hoped that the
Postmaster- General will have the paper
made iu such a way that each and everj
stamp will have the same water- mark.
Why not use the letters U. S. on each stamp ?
They could be made 4 or 5 mm. high, and be
plainly seen. The New South Wales stamps,
for instance, are marked " N. S. W.," with a
crown above. So far as I have seen, the
present water-mark appears on the following
stamps: Ic. blue; Sc. rod, on all three types
of the triangle ; 8c. purple, and lOc. dark
green.
A. Cor.T.— The dealers sell quarters of 1819 at 75c.,
dimes of 188S-39 at 20c. each. Age has nothing to do
•with the value of a coiu. You can buy gome coins
2000 years oltl and over at 25c. each at the dealers.
AT.IOK CALHOUN. — Impossible to answer your ques-
tion as value depends on what the stamps are. You
can buy a packet of 1000 varieties of stamps from deal-
ers for $15.
II. C. W.— Sold by dealers at 8c.
A. BALL.— The initials D. G. on coins mean "Deo
Gratia, "that is " By the grace of God." Almost all
moitoes and inscriptions on coins are iu Latin, and
usii:il]y with many abbreviations.
H. B. CAKING, Rochester, N.Y.— I have a letter for
you which has been returned from Rochester.
PHILATUS
IVORY 5 GAP
IT FLOATS
At all grocery stores east of the Rocky Mountains two sizes of Ivory Soap
are sold ; one that costs five cents a cake, and a larger size. The larger cake is the
more convenient and economical for laundry and general household use. If your
Grocer is out of it, insist on his getting it for you.
THE PROCTER & GAMBLE Co CIN'TI.
EARN A TRICYCLEI
We wish to introduce our
Teas, Spices, and Baking
Powder. Sell 30 IDS. and
we will give you a Fairy
Tricycle; sell 25 Ibs.for
aSolId Silver Watch and
rhain ; 50 Ibs. fora Gold
Watch and Chain; 76 Ibs.
fur a Bicycle ; 10 Ibs.
for a Beautiful Gold
Ring. Express prepaid
li <-;i^u is sent for goods.
Write for catalog and
order sheet.
w. G. BAKER,
SPRINGFIELD, MASS.
NESS & HEAD NOISES CURED
niy INVISIBLE Tubular Cushions. Havo helped
re to cnoa U C A R ' " than all other de-
vices combined, whispers iBbMllii. Help ears aa classes
dueyes. F. lit si-ox, 858 B'dway,N.Y. BookofproofB FREE
WONDER CABINET FREE. Miiiinc Link
;ile, Devil's Bottle. Pocket Camera, Ln*«r
•e Puttie, Spook Photos, Boole of gleipbtof
id. Total Value GOo. Sentfr*e with immcnf"«
iloeue of KMK) Bargains f or inc for postage,
1ERSOLL & BRO., C5 Cortlandt Street H. T.
Books Worth Having.
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.
By W. J. HENDERSON, Author of "Sea Yarns for Boys," etc. Illustrated.
Post Svo, Cloth, Ornamental, $i 25.
THE BOY TRAVELLERS IN THE LEVANT.
Adventures of Two Youths in a Journey through Morocco, Algeria, Tunis,
Greece, and Turkey, with Visits to the Islands of Rhodes and Cyprus, and
the Site of Ancient Troy. By THOMAS \Y. Kxox. Profusely Illustrated.
Square Svo, Cloth, Ornamental, $3 oo.
By KIRK MU.VROE. Illustrated. Post
By Captain KING. Illustrated. Post Svo. Cloth,
THE FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH.
A Story of Alaskan Adventure.
Svo, Cloth, Ornamental, $i 25.
CADET DAYS,
A Story of West Point.
Ornamental, $i 25.
OTHER BOOKS BY CAPTA1X KING:
CAMPAIGNING WITH CROOK, AND STORIES OF ARMY LIFE. Illus-
trated. Post Svo, Cloth, $i 25.
A WAR-TiriE WOOING. Illustrated by R. F. Zouii.u'M. Post S
BETWEEN THE LINES. A Story of the War. Illustrated by GILBERT <
Post Svo, Cloth, Si 25.
TWILIGHT LAND.
Written and Illustrated by HOWARD PYLE. Svo, Half Leather, Orna-
mental, $2 50.
OTHER BOOKS BY HOWARD PYLE:
MEN OF IRON. Svo, Cloth, $2 oo.
A HODERN ALADDIN. Post Svo, Cloth, |i 25.
THE WONDER CLOCK. Large Svo, Cloth, $3 oo.
PEPPER AND SALT. 410, -Cloth, $2 oo.
THE ROSE OF PARADISE. Post Svo. Cloth. |
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York
The above works are for sale by all A
prepaid, on
807
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
OLl.IE'S OPINION.
IF the two"z's" iu buzzard
Are because it buzzes, then
I think that iu " mosquito "
There should be eight or teu.
MAMMA. " Bobby, which rule
school do you titid the hardrM .'"
BOBBY. "The teacher's."
LITTLE Ella, hearing her father
speak of putting something aside for
a rainy day, broke out with the re-
mark,
"Oh, papa! I've got an umbrella laid
aside for that."
DOCTOR. "WHAT HAVE Ton BEEN FATING LATELY?"
PATIENT. "Wm,L, YESTERDAY I ATE ABOUT TUBER DOZEN NAILS, TWO TIN PLATES,
THBEK OHAIR RUNGS, ONK-UAI.F A KAW POTATO — "
DOCTOR. "THAT'S IT; YOUR STOMACH is TOO SENSITIVE TO STAND UNCOOKED
VEGKTAULKS. "
JACK. " I think my brother is an aw-
ful cross fellow."
MOTHER. "Don't you think you're
a little to blame at times, Jack ?"
JACK. " No ; because he can't help
it — it's the W iu his name makes the
ill mil."
THE LITTLE GARDENER.
" WHY, Wilbur, what are you doing?" asked Wilbur's fa-
ther, as he saw the boy burying his little engine in the
ground.
"I's plantin' this engine," said Wilbur. "I warit a lot
more of 'em, and I's plantiu'zis one so's we'll have an en-
gine-tree."
«
A WISE CHOICE.
"I'D rather be a policeman than a burglar," said Jack.
" Burglars have to work nights."
" So do policemen," said Bob.
"Maybe," said Jack; " but they lave uniforms and brass
buttons, and burglars haven't."
JIMMY'S FUTURE.!
JIMMY. "When I grow up I'm go-
ing to be a school-teacher."
PAPA. "Why do you want to be a school-teacher?"
JIMMY. '"Cos you don't have to know the lessons your-
self— you just have to hear them out of a book."
AN EXCUSE.
" TOMMIE, your spelling report is very bad," said Mr.
Hicks to his boy.
" That's all right, papa," said Toinmie. " When I grow up
I'm going to dictate all my letters, like you do. It's th«
type-writer that'll have to know spelling, not me."
'HA! ha!" laughed the fish, as it glanced at the bait
That hung so temptingly by ;
'By your silence I see you're intended to be
Rather too pointed to try."
THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CIDER PIGGIN.
A HOPPERGRASS, one sunny day,
Turning hand-springs amid the hay,
O'erleaped himself, and fell into
A piggiu of good apple brew.
" Shame on you, thirsty little one,"
Cried the haymakers iu the sun ;
WHENEVER he felt two stitches iu his side
The little old philosopher cried:
"I'm lucky, I think; don't you?
If one in time saves nine, as they say,
I'd have had eighteen of 'em some day
If it wasn't for these two!"
A BAD COMBINATION.
" FAR as I can see," observed Jack, after his bicycle acci-
dent, " a bicycle's just as skittish as a horse."
"It's worse," said Willie. "My bike not only threw me
like a horse, but turned back and gored me with the bar-
iiandles like a bull."
A LITTLE TOMMIE QUESTION.
"SAY, mamma." said little Tomrnie, lookiug up from his
tin soldiers, "do angels put their heads under their wings
like turkeys when they go to sleep?"
HIS MEMORY.
JOHNNY. "I can't remember the name of that little girl
I met at Newport."
PAPA. "You must improve your memory. That little
girl had a very common uauie. Now guess — what happens
before meat ?"
JOHNNY". "The sharpening of the knife."
The hopper took one draught, and then,
Ere he flew oft', addressed the men:
"Good sirs," quoth he, "although one swallow
Does not make summer, it would follow
That several swallows were at fault
If you had made that summersault."
si i-
HARPERS
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, by HAEPKB & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 824.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, AUGUST 13, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A TEAR.
THE STORY OF NOEL DUVAL.
BY FKANC1S STERNE PALMER.
T
HE summer of 1814 was a troubled one for the people
living iu northern New York. English troops were
concentrating at points just across the Canadian border,
and there were rumors that tliey would soon invade the
territory of the States. The farmers were being hastily
drilled into militia companies — train-bands, as they \ ere
called; the women were anxious and frightened; the 1 >ys
shared the general excitement, and were busy drillin .
Early one warm July evening four persons were sit ing
in tlie little lattice-covered pnrtirool'a cottage in tin- ut-
skirts of one of the larger villages near the Canadian hoi ler.
The most noticeable of the little group was Madam Mar-
stou,au old lady, tall and straight, one of the type that
furnished the New England pioneers with «i\es as hardy
and brave as themselves, (.in tin- bench on the other side
of t lie portico sat her daughter, the Widow Duval. a slender,
gentle woman, but with tin' same look of detenuinai ion ill
her fine gray eyes. Close, to her side \\as Noel Ihnal.a
boy of about fifteen, whose dark skin and keen :n|iiiliiu:
features came from his French Canadian father, but who
hail his mother's eyes. The sharpness of the box's features
was emphasized by the thinness of his face, which "as
pinched, as if by suffering. While a, child he had im-i
an accident that had brought on a long il!nc-s. and left one
arm withered and almost lielpU-ss. Hi- sister, little Ni-
nette, nestled close to her stately ^i and I her.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"Mother," the boy was saying, "Abrani Dodds made me
very angry to-day. He said I was Dot au American, be-
cause my father was not, and because I have always lived
in Canada."
"I wouldn't mind what the boys say. When they know
you better I'm sure they'll stop trying to tease you." She
laid her hand on his shoulder as if to check his impatience.
"Nay, daughter," interposed the older woman, her eyes
flashing, " let him stand up for himself — if he can. Because
you chose, against my wishes, to marry a Canadian is no
reason why the boy should be sneered at. Was not his
grandfather, Caleb Marston, as good a soldier- as fought in
the Revolution, and a captain, too? Let the boy stand up
for himself, say I !"
His mother only stroked the boy's hair soothingly.
"Bide your time, Noel, "'she whispered; "your chance will
come, and in the mean time keep guard over that quick
temper of yours. Remember you must be strong to take
care of us all — Ninette, and your grandmother, and me —
and a quick unruly temper ever means weakness."
" I'll not forget," said Noel. " But still, it angers me to
be told I'm not au American. If my arm would only get
strongi'v, I could be a soldier like grandfather, and prove
that I'm an American. I am, really, am I not? for I was
born in this country before my father took yon back to his
home in Canada."
Noel got up and walked off down the road toward the
field where the boys held their drills. ID spite of his weak
arm lie thought he could manage well enough in the drill-
ing, and he was anxious to be asked to join a military com-
pany the boys had organized. This evening there had
come together about twenty boys, all of whom lived on the
neighboring farms. Their drill-ground was a level piece
of pasture-land, bordered on one side by the forest, which
in those times stretched far away to the north, even to the
banks of the St. Lawrence River.
When they saw Noel coming toward them the boys had
just iinished one of their evolutions and were resting, lean-
ing on the wooden staff's which served them instead of real
muskets. Jacobus Boouter, who was captain, had a real
sword — one that his grandfather, Ensign Dirk Boouter, had
carried in the war of the Revolution. The boys had much
respect for the old sword, especially when Jacobus pointed
out some spots on it that looked as if they might be blood-
stains.
"Captain," said one of the boys, "there comes Noel Du-
val. Yon know, he came here with his mother from Can-
ada only two mouths ago, and they live with old Widow
Marstou on her little farm. He only has one good arm, but
to-day he wanted to tight Abram Dodds for saying he was
not an American. Shall we let him join the company ? I
know he wants to."
Broad-faced Jacobus shook his head gravely.
"No, I think we'd better not. He's so lately from Can-
ada that he maybe an English spy. You can't be too care-
ful. They say he talks French. Besides, he's only one
good arm. No, I think we'd best not have him. I don't
trust him, and a one-armed soldier wouldn't he good for
anything, anyway."
" Well, I'd trust him," said the first speaker, " and I
know him better than the rest of you do. It's true he's
lived in Canada, and wheu he was there he learned lots
of clever things about the woods, too; but he feels that
this is his country, and he's just as good an American as
any of us,"
However, the opinions of Captain Jacobus prevailed, and
wheu Noel came up he was treated in so cool a way by
most of the boys that at first he felt very angry ; but he re-
membered to check his temper. He remained and watched
the drill, in spite of their evident intention to treat him as
an outsider.
Soon it got so dark that the boys had to stop drilling.
They were lying about on the ground near the edge of the
woods, resting a little before they parted, when of a sudden
thirty or forty men, each leading a pony, loomed out of the
dusk. They were walking rapidly, anil keeping close to
the forest. The startled boys remained quiet, and the men
did not see them till they were close upon them.
"Hello! What's this?" exclaimed the one who seemed
the leader. "Here, you little rascals, don't you stir! Not
a word — not a move!"
The boys were frightened into complete submission, and
lay huddled on the grouud staring at the new-comers.
These, with the exception of the leader, who wore the nui-
form of an English officer, were all dressed in deer-skin
suits, with fur caps and moccasins. The boys saw that
they had been captured by a band of the dreaded Canadian
scouts — about whose Indianlike ferocity many tales were
told — and must of the young warriors trembled with
fright. Jacobus tried to say something, but his voice
broke, and the a-ttempt ended in au ignominious mixture
of gulp and sob.
"You won't be hurt if you keep quiet," said the officer,
trying not to smile when he saw Jacobus and his big sword.
His voice grew stern as he went on : "Pierre and Antoine,
yon stay and guard these boys. If one moves you are to
shoot him. Remember that order, boys ; remember also
that my scouts always obey. Be careful, Pierre, to let.
none of them escape to give the alarm. Join us when you
hear firing. Come on, the rest of you."
In a moment the stealthy company of scouts, leading
their ponies, that stepped care fully, as if they too understood
the need of quiet, were gone. The boys would have thought
it all an apparition if the two stalwart Canadians, Pierre
and Antoine, had not been there to prove they had not been
dreaming. The two scouts talked together for a short
time in Canadian French ; then, while the one called Pierre
stood guard with his rifle, Autoine picketed- their two
ponies, and next began to picket the boys — that is, lie tied
together the wrists and ankles of each one, using some long
thongs of deer-skin which he and Pierre carried wound
round their waists. When all were securely tied the two
scouts stretched themselves out on the grass, and, paying
little further attention to their trembling prisoners, began
talking — none of the boys save Noel could understand
French.
"How long must we wait here with these wretched
youngsters ?" said Pierre.
"It will take an hour or more for them to eucircle the
village ; and that must be done before the attack is
made."
"And we must lose it all! It's a shame. Well, they
ought to give us a better chance when— " Here he dropped
his voice so low that Noel could hear no more.
While Noel's ears had been busy, his fingers had not been
idle. With the deftness and patience born of his forest
training in Canada he had worked at the knots that bound
him, and had at last succeeded, with the help of the dark-
ness, in untying them. He lay just at the forest's edge,
and it required only one sudden spring to carry him into
the underbrush.
The leap had been a quick one, but Pierre's sharp eyes
had seen the boy's first movement ; and as Noel crashed
into the bushes, the scout's knife — which he wore at his
belt, and which he could throw as an Indian throws the
tomahawk — glanced through the air, severing a twig close
to the boy's cheek. Noel made two or three long leaps,
then crouched down, and, feeling along the earth, found a
heavy stick, aud fluug it crashing into the bushes at one
side.
Pierre, leaving Antoine to guard the others, had sprung
after Noel; he carried his rifle, which had lain by his side,
wrapped in his jacket to protect it from the dew. It
was very dark under the thick evergreens ; and as Pierre,
misled by the sound of the stick, went a few yards to one
side. Noel rose aud moved away, his moccasins making as
little noise as do the furry feet of a Canada lynx creeping
up to a moose. But even a lynx sometimes stirs a twig
that rustles a dead leaf, and now this happened to Noel.
Pierre's ears caught a slight sound; instantly he made out
the crouching figure, and, throwing his rifle to his shoul-
der, fired. Thanks to the darkness, the bullet missed, but
whizzed so close to the boy's head that the concussion al-
most stunned him. Yet he felt like shouting for joy, for
the scout, his muzzle-loading rifle empty aud his knife
gone, was practically unarmed.
810
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
" Have you got liini ?" cried Antoine, from tlie open.
"Not yet," shouted back Pierre. "But I'll have him,
alive or dead. He sha'u't get away!"
Noel, knowing that there was now neither knife nor bullet
to follow him, had leaped forward, running like a deer. The
scout sprang after him not twenty yards behind. The
little forest creatures that run about at night — weasels
and sables and hares — scrambled out of their way, aud
crouched down, wondering at them as they came dash-
ing by.
The two were not unequally matched ; for while the
scout had the advantage in strength, Noel was the more
agile. His small size was also of great advantage, as any-
one who has tried to run through tlie woods will under-
stand. The low-growing branches of trees did not trouble
the boy as they did the tall Pierre, who several times
measured his length upon the ground.
They went oil for what seemed a long time to the man
and boy plunging through the underbrush of the woods,
but which was probably not more than half an hour. By
that time Noel felt that his strength was fast going. He
was breathing painfully, and had been forced to slacken
his pace, wh,;n he came upon what at first seemed a thick
grn\\ th of bushes; as he broke through he found that it
was a brush fence which some farmer had built through
the woods to enlarge his pasture. The boy, agile and light,
had little trouble; but Pierre fared worse, and before he
could struggle through the brush and the tops of fallen
trees that composed the fence, Noel had doubled the dis-
tance between them.
As Noel hurried on as fast as he was able he was startled
by some large animal, which he stumbled upon just as it
was getting to its feet; it too was frightened, and ran on
ahead. Noel saw that il was one of the farmer's heifers.
Here was an opportunity to mislead his pursuer, and the
boy dropped to the ground by the side of a log and la}'
perfectly quiet. Pierre, out of breath, aud struggling to
make up the ground he had lost, kept on after the heifer,
thinking it was Noel. As he leaped over the log, he was so
near the prostrate figure that his foot actually touched the
boy's jacket.
As soon as the Canadian was out of hearing, Noel jumped
up and started toward the. clearing, which he knew was
near by. There was no time to lose, for Pierre must soon
find out his mistake and return. In a few minutes Noel
readied the edge of the wood, and far off across the fields
saw a black shaft in the starlight, the .spire of the village
church. It was fully three miles away; for he had been
running from the village, rather than toward it. The at-
tack, he knew, would be made, within an hour.
There was a stretch of nearly a mile across the fields be-
fore a road could be reached. Noel, tired from his dash
through the woods, started forward across the uueveu pas-
ture-land. In spite of his anxiety, he laughed to himself
at the thought of Pierre's feelings when he should discover
that he was chasing only a frightened cow.
As he hurried on as fast as his tired legs would carry
him, it seemed to his strained senses that an unnatural
aud forbidding hush pervaded the warm night. Even the
notes of whippoorwills that came from the bushes near the
forest sounded less loud than usual, and seemed to foretell
a calamity. The hares aud other animals that come out in
the darkness had hidden themselves.
Finally he came to the road that led on to the village,
still two miles away. There was little danger of being
overtaken by Pierre ; but there was a chance of his being
seen by the sentinels that the raiders might station on the
roads leading to the village. He could not go faster than
a slow trot now, and he was panting painfully. His moc-
casin-clad feet ploughed through the dust, striking against
the stones in the rough road. He thought, a little bitterly,
that the other boys wn. right if they believed that he was
not really able-bodied; the accident that had hurt his arm
had weakened him in every way. However, he plodded on
steadily, resolved that determination should take the place,
as far as possible, of bodily strength.
He had gone perhaps half the way when there was the
sound of a horse's hoofs coming from the direction of the
village. He crouched down in the shallow of some bushes,
and w aitcd. In a i cut the horse and its rider came in
sight, and by the dim light Xoel recognized Ihc village
doctor, old Mr. Hedding, astride his white pon\ . .Void
stepped into the road in front of the pony.
" It's only I, doctor ; \<>cl I hi \ a I. grandson lo I he Widow
Marston," he said, iii a whisper. "Iion'i make an} noise!
Was every th ing qniet at tin- village w lieu you left .'"
"Quiet as usual, and that's quiet enough, for certain.
But what's the matter, lad ? Why are yon slopping people
in the high-road in this way 1 And why are yon Ircmbling
and panting so? That's not like a highwayman."
"They're going to attack the village — raiders from
Canada! There's no time to explain! lint yon must let
me have the pony! I'm all tired out — and I must get to
the village!"
For a moment the doctor scrutinized the boy's face. Then
he got down from the pony. " I was going t o I .1 nn.'i Ton-
well's, who's down with bis rheumatism again, but he shall
wait. I wouldn't do this a t every boy's word, bill you look
as if you know what you're about, and I will take the.
chance."
Already Noel had sprung to the saddle and turned the
pony back toward the village.
" Look out for my saddle-bags," said the doctor. " There's
enough costly drugs in them to kill all the English in Can-
ada. I'll follow on slowly, anil 'twill go hard with you if
you've been trifling with me."
Biit the boy was out of hearing. It seemed as if Provi-
dence had come to the aid of his weak body, and Noel, with
renewed hope of reaching the village in time to give the
alarm, urged on the sturdy white pony.
They had almost reached the outskirts of the little town
when a man on horseback rode into the middle of the road,
aud confronting Noel, ordered him to stop. Noel thought
he recognized the dress of the Canadian scouts. He bent
low on the saddle aud struck the pony sharply. An in-
stant later a rifle blazed in his face. Then he realized
that in some way the white pony had got by the other
horse and was galloping down the road, terrified by the
rifle's flash. The scout's pony was close behind.
The white pony was running as it had not done since it
was a colt in lower Canada, and had carried its habitant
master in many a race, and won them, too. Noel w as con-
scious of a feeling of exultation ; for he saw that the scout
was losing ground. He cried out to his pursuer in French,
and started to wave his hand in a derisive farewell. The
effort caused a sharp pain to shoot through his arm, and lie
found that his hand and wrist were covered with blood.
The scout's bullet had toru its way through the flesh of his
forearm.
He grew very faint, and had to clutch the saddle tightly
with his knees to keep from falling. His weak arm had
served to hold the reins, but it was good for little else.
lie was so dizzy that he could hardly see, and he only dim-
ly realized that he was close to the streams of light coming
from the windows of the village tavern. The sound of a
galloping horse brought several men to the tavern
door.
"Raiders from Canada are coming! They're dose b\ !" h,-
gasped, then his head swam round and he tell from the
saddle. After that there was much shouting and hurry-
ing to and fro, and finally the beating of a drum and the,
quick clang of the bell in the village church. But Nod,
stretched out on a table in the tavern, was undisturbed by
all the turmoil.
Even Congress heard of what had occurred that warm
.July night by the Canadian border, and when the war was
ended. Nod Ihival was remembered in such a substantial
wax that he was able to provide a good home for his mo
(her and the old Widow Marston and for little Ninette, and
to keep poverty from ever again pinching tin m,
OIK- day in the ant num. Nod, w ho was now quite well
of his wound, was asked i m< to the drill-ground.
Jac i- I'.oontcr met him. and led him to
r:m> of boys wi re drawn up in liie il," ho
said. " we ask yon if \uti will pli II captain f"
811
RASPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE LAZY HOUR.
SO bright are the branches,
The shadows so cool,
So dark is the water,
So deep is the pool,
So hard is the lesson,
So hot is the school —
If I were the son of a merman
I never should hear of a rule!
Light as the arrow
Springs from the bow,
Off the big ledges
Down I should go
Into the hollow
Whose secret I know,
I"|p I should come like a bubble,
Shake off the water and blow !
Now for a breast stroke
Under the tide —
Arm o'er arm sweeping
I float on my side;
Deep in green crystal
Slowly I slide.
There goes the class up in Caesar !
I wish I'd a corner to hide!
HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD.
ARTIFICIAL ICE.
SIGN-BOARDS bearing the legend " Boston ice " over the
doors of cellars and other places where ice was kept for
sale have long been a familiar sight in the South. During
the last twelve years,
however, nearly every
Southern town of impor-
tance has established its
own factory for making
ice, and the process has
become so perfect and
cheap that the artificial
ice competes with the
natural article shipped
from the New England
States.
The cost of transpor-
tation, handling, and en-
ormous waste by melting
serves to make " Boston
ice "a costly luxury to
tliij Southern consumer.
This has stimulated the
invention of improved
methods of making artifi-
cial ice.
On his first visit to an
ice factory, one who is
not familiar with ire-
making machinery will
be surprised to see large
steam-engines and boil-
ers, with great piles of
coal, and will wonder
how the use of fire and
steam can assist in pro-
ducing cold; but a little
understanding of the
chemistry of the process
will enable him to per-
ceive the need of such
machinery.
All objects contain a
certain amount of heat. AN ICE "CAN.'
The capacity for retain-
ing this heat varies in different substances. Liquids retain
more than solids, and gases more than liquids. If gases be
compressed, their heat-retaining capacity will be reduced
hi proportion. Nearly all of the known gases may be com-
pressed until they assume the liquid form. Gas made from
ammonia when subjected to a pressure of about oue hun-
dred anil fifty pounds to the square inch, becomes a liquid.
Should the pressure be now removed, the liquid ammonia
will instantly rush into gas again, and in doing so tries to
absorb the heat which has been squeezed out of it.
If this expansion into gas be allowed to take place in
pipes sunk in brine.it will draw all the heat out of the
brine, and cause the brine to become cold enough to freeze
fresh water in cans suspended in it, and convert the fresh
water in the cans into solid ice.
In the factories which freeze the water in cans there is
provided a very large brine-chamber or vat, so deep that
the cans may be immersed in it nearly to their tops. The
cans are about four feet deep, and are made of galvanized
iron. They are filled with pure water, aud let down into
the brine through openings in the top of the vat. Between
the rows of water-cans are tiers of iron pipes running back
and forth through the brine, aud throughout these pipes
the expansion of gas takes place, cooling the brine to ten
degrees below zero. Ice soon begins to form on the inside
aud bottom of the cans under the influence of this intense
cold. It becomes thicker aud thicker, until it is finally a
solid mass of clear crystal ice, usually with a small core of
opaque or snowy ice, exactly through the centre.
As fast as their contents are frozen the cans are removed
by a special lifting apparatus, aud dipped for a minute into
hot water to loosen the block from the can. Then it slides
out easily, aud is stored away for use.
There are other factories conducted on a somewhat- dif-
ferent plan from the foregoing, in which the ice is made to
form on iron plates, in cakes weighing several tons each.
In such factories the brine - chamber is in the shape of
double partition walls of
iron plates, about four
inches apart. The parti-
tion divides a deep wood-
en water-tank into two
equal rooms, aud in the
narrow space between
the iron plates the brine
and pipes for the ammo-
nia gas are placed. The
rooms are filled with
pure water, which is iii
contact with the brine-
i-hamber on one side. Ice
soon begins to form on
the iron side plates, pre-
cisely in the same way
as on a pond or river, ex-
cept that the sheet of ice
is vertical instead of ho-
rizontal. Only about
half of the water in the
rooms is allowed to
freeze.
When the cakes of ice
are considered In be of
sufficient thickness, the
cold brine is pumped out
of its compartment into
another tank, aud its
place is filled with wa-
ter of ordinary tempera-
ture. This soon thaws
the ice cakes loose from
the plates, and allows the
mass of ice to be lifted
out by hoisting machin-
ery. The ice is then
passed on to the sawing-
machiue, which divides
it into blocks weighing
about two hundred pounds each. The only essential dif-
ference in the two systems described lies in the fact
that in the can method all the water is frozen, and if
812
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
there be any impurity in tbe water the
ice will contain it. Ill the plate method
tbe ice is formed entirely from one side
of the cake, and only about one-half of the
water is allowed to congeal into solid ice.
Since water, in freezing, tends to purify it-
self in the way in which the natural ice
of ponds and rivers purifies itself, the plate
method more nearly resembles the natural
way, and tbe ice shows its characteristic
structure.
After having performed its work in
cooling the brine, the expanded gas is
drawn from the pipes by means of power-
ful steam -pumps, and it is then com-
pressed into a coil of iron pipes kept im-
mersed iu a tank of cold running water.
This compression of the expanded gas re-
quires very heavy machinery, and the op-
eration develops much heat, which is ab-
sorbed by the running water. In other
words, tbe expanding gas having absorb-
ed much heat from the brine, and having
been made cold by this means, must be
deprived of the heat thus gained by com-
pression again into a coil surrounded by
running water, which takes away tbe heat
as soon as it is developed by compres-
sion.
Being now restored to the liquid form,
the gas is ready to go on another round,
and may be used again and again. The
only loss of gas sustained is from leaky
joints in tbe pipes.
It is a curious sight to see these pipes and pumps, even
in tbe hottest weather, all coated with a thick layer of
snow-white frost, so thick that it may bo scraped off with
the hands and squeezed into a snowball. The brine-pumps
soon lose their characteristic shape, and are scarcely recog-
A BLOCK THAT STOOD SOME TIME IN THE SUN.
uizalile, looking more like a fantastic snow-drift than a piece
of iron machinery.
Sometimes we see fine fruit or a bouquet of hnndsome
flowers which had been so placed iu the water as to become
frozen iu tbe centre of a large block of crystal ice. Such
objects form beautiful ornaments while they last.
Many people believe that coal is really at the fonmla-
tiou of cheap ice, and that it will presently be cheaper to
use coal to make ice than to use it iu transporting ice to
the place where it is wanted. Artificial ice is already pro-
duced iu considerable quantities in districts where natural
ice is also cut for the market.
A BLOCK OF MANUFACTURED ICE.
GRANDFATHER'S ADVENTURES.
AS A PIRATE.
RALPH," said Grandfather Sterling, one winter's even-
ing, as they sat together before a fire of crackling
logs, and listened with a dreamy sense of suuguess and
comfort to the bowlings of the storm without, " did I ever
tell you about the time that I was a phate .'"
"Grandpop !" exclaimed the startled boy, "yon don't
mean to .say that you were once a real pirate, the kind that
rob people and cut their throats and all that. just like the
story of Captain Kidd in my school Reader?"
Grandfather Sterling nodded his head iu assent.
"Yes, Ralph, your grandfather once sailed under the
black-flag having a white skull and cross-bones painted on
it, and, what is more, he was a member of the crew of the
pirate schooner .Dragon,' commanded by Captain Kraml, the
most notorious pirate that ever cruised among the West
India Islands."
An amused smile crept over the old sea-captain's face,
and his eyes twinkled mischievously as be detected bis
nephew's horrified, pained, and reproachful look.
" Well, Ralph,'' said his grandfather, with an aliccied air
of shame and remorse, " I'll tell you how it happened :
"You see, it was in\ see I \oyageas I my on board of the
brig Saucy, commanded by Captain Abraham Smiili, lie
longini; down Salem wa\ in Massachusetts, and tnnlini: be-
tween that port and the \\ < s1 In. lies. We left harbor one
summer morning, loaded with all Kin. I of bardj I
which we expected lo exchange in Cuba for siiunr.
813
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
n fortnight at sea we sighted San Salvador Island, belong-
ing to the Bahama group, which island, by-the-\vay, was
the first land that Columbus discovered ou his great voy-
age. That afternoon we were sailing along past Crooked
Island, which lies jnst to the southward of San Salvador,
when a trim-looking schooner with very tall masts, on
which were spread enormous fore-and-aft sails, stood out
from under the lee of the laud, and came down rapidly
upon us. Knowing that we could not escape from her. the
stranger openly showed his colors — the pirate's black-flag.
We crowded every stitch of canvas on the poor little
Haitcy, but in less than an hour the pirate was so close that
his shot commenced to carry away our spars and rigging.
" ' Men,' said our Captain, ' there's no good in trying to
escape, so let us heave to. Perhaps when he finds out that
our cargo is of 110 value he will let us go our way.'
" Well, we shortened sail at once, and put our wheel
<lowu, waiting for the enemy to board us. Seeing that we
had given up the race, the pirate kept getting iu his light
.sails as he swept down on us, and after he had forged ahead
a little he tacked ship, leaving his jib to windward, and so
laid hove to. Immediately one of his boats pulled out from
under the lee of the schooner, and a minute later was along-
side of us.
"Preceded by a fair, handsome, lightly built man, who
proved to be none other than Captain Brand, a dozen
swarthy, evil-looking pirates, armed to the teeth, tumbled
over the rail. Captain Smith stepped forward to address
the chief, but was immediately cut down with a cutlass
wielded by the latter, who haughtily remarked,
" ' Excuse me, I've no time for conversation.'
"The pirate's action was a signal to his men, and before
our crew could offer the slightest resistance they shared
the master's fate. A wicked-looking scoundrel with an
ugly scar across his cheek made a savage swiug at me with
his sword, but before the blow could fall the pirate's cut-
lass was aeut flying from his grasp, and he uttered a shriek
of pain and seized his arm where Brand's blow had fallen.
" ' I don't make war on children,' was all that the Cap-
tain said.
"Fifteen minutes later the *«»<•</ had been ransacked
and set ou fire, aud sick at heart I was ou board the
schooner, having been given to understand that my name
had been entered as a pirate's apprentice, aud that I was
a regular member of the crew aud must obey orders.
" At once the word was passed to get the vessel under
way, and I found myself trailing on to the fore-topsail hal-
yards alongside of a sad-looking lad of about my own age,
who was addressed by the men as Dick, and who, I took
it rightly, had been forced to join the Dragon under similar
coudit ions to my own.
"That night we two found ourselves in the same watch,
aud, after answering to roll-call, we stowed ourselves away
between two of the guns and exchanged confidences. Later
ou we talked over various plans to gain our freedom. Dick
informed me that the schooner was ou her way to the pi-
rates' stronghold, where he had been once before, on the
island of Tortugas, there to divide the spoils of the voyage,
and to gamble aud carouse for several days before starting
on another expedition.
" Two days later we reached the island in a small secure-
ly locked bay ou the western side. After lowering aud
furling the sails, a chest about two feet square was brought
out on deck, aud its contents, consisting of gold aud silver,
money aud jewels, were divided among the men by Captain
Braud. After that a barrel of rum was lowered into the
long boat, aud the crew entered her and rowed away, leav-
ing I he Captain aud we two boys the only ones ou board.
"Late in the evening Captain Brand ordered Dick to row
liim ashore, aud I was left alone. About an hour later Dick
,si nlled the boat quietly alongside out of the darkness,
climbed ou board, and addressed me in an excited whisper:
" ' Now's our time, Sterling ; the Captain has gone up to
his shore house and thinks I'm waiting for him on (lie
beach ; we will cut the cable, aud the wind will set us out
of the bay ; they can't follow us, for I've sent their boat
adrift, with the plug pulled out so that it will sink !'
•• While Dick ran to the wheel I jumped forward aud
sawed my knife through the anchor hawser, aud immediate-
ly saw the schooner's head falling oft" against the stars un-
der the influence of the easterly wind. In a quarter of au
hour we were outside the month of the harbor and drifting
to the westward. We knew that we never could hoist the,
sails and handle the vessel to sail anywhere, ami thai if a
galr sprang up we would probably founder ; but these dan-
gers could not rob us of great happiuess, for we realized
that we were free from the pirates' clutches.
"During the night we took turns at steering the schooner
so as to keep her before the wind, but just before daybreak
it fell a flat calm. When the suu rose Dick was the first to
see a large man-of-war about a mile away on our beam,
also lying becalmed. They made us out at the same time,
and evidently disliking our looks they fitted out three
large launches with guns in their bows, aud pulled toward
us. When they got within hailing distance we told our
story. One of the boats then came alongside and took
possession of the pirate craft. Dick aud I were then sent
off to the cruiser to tell our story to her Captain.
" Well, Ralph, to make a long story short, the commauder
of the man-of-war determined to take the jiirat.es by sur-
prise, if possible, so he stood off to the northeast all day to
get the island under his lee, and when night fell he crowded
on sail and ran for the place that we had escaped from
twenty-four hours before. We made the entrance to the
harbor about midnight, aud while the man-of-war remained
hove to, all the boats were fitted out aud sent in to the bay.
"About an hour later we heard the sound of distant fir-
ing, aud toward morning the boats returned with all the
officers aud men safe and sound, who stated that they had
found the pirates stupefied with drink, and had made short
work of the gang. Captain Braud, however, hail not beeu
seen, and it was supposed that he had escaped to the in-
terior of the island.
" Now, Ralph, you have the history of your grandfather
at the time he was a pirate and sailed under the black-flag
•with Captaiu Braud, the notorious robber chief."
CORPORAL FRED.*
A Story of the Riots.
BY CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U.S.A.
CHAPTER IV.
T7OUR miles away, in the heart of the great city, a
m throng of men aud women and children surrounded
the massive stone walls, and peered up at the narrow win-
dows of a formidable -looking building, from whose lofty
flag-staff the Stars aud Stripes were fluttering in the fresh
lake breeze — a crowd even denser than that we saw iu the
distant dusty yards. Here, too, among them were faces
grave with anxiety. Here, too, among the women were
eyes red with tears; but here all was sileuce and order.
Suddenly from within the huge brown walls there rose the
shrill summons of the bugle, souudiug iu quick, spirited
call the well-known "assembly," and in company rooms,
crowded to suffocation by wives, mothers, sisters, sweet-
hearts, aud friends of the guardsmen, the men of the — th
regiment fell iu for roll-call. Almost at the same moment,
iu other sections of the city, the same sigual called two
other commands to their rauks. The State was waking up
at last, but waking up iu earnest.
Down iu the paved court below the chargers of the field
aud staff officers were awaiting their riders, every swish
of their tails slashing the faces of boys aud men wedged iu
au almost solid mass about them. Orders had beeu given
that only members of the regiment and people having im-
portaut business with its officers should be allowed within
the walls; but the summons for duty had reached over
eight hundred of its men while still at their places of bnsi-
uess downtown. There was no time to go home, and the
Colonel could uot resist the pleas that came from without.
First by threes aud fours, then by dozens, scores, aud finally
iu one uninterrupted stream, relatives aud friends, followed
•Begun iu HARPER'S ROUND TABLE No. 821
814
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
V>y mere cnriosity-seekera, swept past tlie guarded gates,
until tlir great interior was packed, and there was no room
for more. Before it was possible to form tin- command in
the big drill-hall the guards had to clear the court, then
drive all men and buys into the space thus redeemed, and
post a solid section across the sally-port to hold it against
further ingress. It was 3.50 when the Colonel was handed
his orders, and touched the button that Hashed the sum-
mons to each company commander. It was just 5.45 when
he reported his command in readiness, and just, 6.30 when,
amidst a storm of cheers, tears, and God-speeds, through a
flashing sea of \\hite handkerchiefs he guided his stall led.
spirited horse, and followed by his staff ami a solid column
of fours, eight hundred strong, turned into the broad avenue
and led the way. No exultant strain of martial music, no
gayly decked bandsmen at the head of the regiment ; only
the hoarse throb of the drums. No nodding plumes ami
snowy helmets, cross-belts, trousers. This was war's array,
magnificently stern, but as magnificently simple. Officers
and men alike wore the drab slouch hat of the regu-
lars in the Held, and the sombre blouses of dark blue, the
broad drab ammunition belt, crammed with copper car-
tridges, the browu equipments, haversacks, leggings, etc.,
all without an atom of show or tinsel. Kven the popular
idea of glittering bayonet and gleaming nmsUet seemed re-
buked, for the sloping Spiingtields were brown and busi-
nesslike as the belts and leggings. Out they strode with
steady swinging step, and the heart of the great city
seemed to leap to its throat, the spray of the eastward bil-
lows to its blinking eyes, for riot, insurrection, defiance to
law and order, peace and security, had again burst forth,
and were raging every instant nearer and nearer its very
vitals. Police and sheriff had grappled or cajoled in vain,
and here at last was its right arm — the hope and stivimih
and pride of house and home, the pet regiment of the
Western metropolis was being sent to check the torrent
where it raged its maddest, through that mile-long reach
of the Great Western yards. "Eight hundred strong with
more a-comiug," as the papers put it, the — th went swing-
ing down the applauding avenue to face far more than ten
times its weight in foes. No wonder women wept and
waved their hands, and strong men prayed as they said
God-speed and good -by.
Ont to the rioters flashed the news of the muster. Train-
men, switchmen, one and all, knew the coining force. Many
a time had they carried them to the summer encampments
ill the interior of the State. More than once within the
year had they hurried them away to the scene of some mad
outbreak among the mines and iron-works. The masses of
the mob might hoot and jeer and cry derision and boast of
the reception they would give the "dudes," the ''tin sol-
diers" ; but these railway men, schooled themselves in les-
sons of order and discipline, knew the stern stuff of which
the regiment was really made. Already the thinking men
among them had begun to edge away, leaving only an occa-
sional crack-brained enthusiast like Farley in the crowd.
Long since had the promoters of the row, such restless agi-
tators as Steinman and Frenzal, slipped off to shelter,
where neither bullet nor bayonet could reach them, but
where they could dictate further violence and plan madder
schemes. Over about the deserted shops, away from the
mad tumult of the yards, numbers of the strikers stood in
gloomy contemplation of the wreck, but taking no further
part in the proceedings. Work had been suspended during
the day, for such was the need of old and trusted hands in
the passenger stations and on the abandoned switch-en-
gines that other foremen besides stern old Wallace had
been called away, and these were stalwarts to whom the
strikers had appealed in vain. Struck between the eyes
by a coupling-pin while handling the lever of a switch-en-
gine an hour before, Mr. Aiuslie, the master-mechanic of
the Air Line, had just been borne by in an ambulance : and
Wallace, looking even older, sadder, sterner, than he did at
dawn, bore down upon the uintt'ering shamefaced group ai
In- returned for his coat, hanging there on its accustomed
pen in the darkening shops. Something of the smoulder-
ing lire in his eyes seemed to overawe them, for they gave
way in sullen silence, many of them turning to avoid the
glower of the old Scotchman's ga/.e, and lei him h\ without
a word. There were those among them who earlier in tin-
day could have cried him shame for his blunt refusal to
either strike or sympathize. Sloltz, who called upon him
with fiery words and tierce gest iculal ion at ten «', 'lock, had
been told to go and stay. At one, when mm wen- n, , .1. ,1
to man the engines, he had sent, word to .lim to come and
take his place in a cab and handle the lever like a man, or
keep out of his si ght till he could behave like one : ,-ind as no
Jim came, the father himself manned the throttle of the lirst
engine to force a way to the \ards.just in time to see his
beloved sou shot down, apparently by the senseless folly
of a deputy trained neither to aim nor to endure. His heart
was hot against the leaders who had brought this madness
on the men he had known and almost swayed for years,
and he could not refrain from harsh invective now. Halt-
ing short, he turned upon the sullen group.
"Are yon satisfied with your v\ork now, \ on blind, mis-
guided fools? Have you gained one point ? You've struck
down — killed, perhaps — the best man that ever handled a
wrench in these shops. You've stoned my tlesh and blood.
Why don't you mob me? I would have run that engine
back until every track was clear hail I had my way. Why
don't yon mob me? I begged Mr. Williams to let me go
and fetch away those trains, car by car, if need be. Why
don't yon mob me, I say? Your advisers are frauds, and
you are fools or worse. Look there at your doinn!" he
cried, pointing to the heaping wreck up the long lines of
rail.
They would not answer him. Some already realized the
extent of their blunder ; others, sullen and disheartened,
knew not how. All seemed to start and turn as though at
sound of a familiar voice, when a man stepped from the
open office door and began to speak, calmly at first, then
with growing resonance and elli-et . as I hough he were again
upon the rostrum preaching to the oppressed.
"No one would willingly harm you, Mr. Wallace; no one
would knowingly have injured Mr. Ainslie. Our people,
even when wronged and down-trodden, respect gray hairs,
but the time has come when even patience has its limit.
We are not the wreckers yonder, though we well might be.
All that is the work of a great sympathetic people, long
protesting agaiust the tyranny to which we have bowed in
the past. We would have spared the road and its officials
as we have spared you, but let inf.- say to you now the blow
that downed your son was a blessing in disguise, for had
he joined those coming minions of the government — those
fancy soldiers of the aristocratic wards — I would not be
answerable for what might happen, not only to him, but to
yon and yours."
Wallace let the speaker finish before he strode a loug
step nearer.
"You made those threats last night." he thundered,
shaking his bony forefinger under the other's rubicund nose.
" I know your voice, and I want to know your name. Who
are you, I say, who have come here sowing seeds of riot
among honest Men ? You dare not give, your name, and
these men will not. My own son said he could not tell me.
No man afraid or ashamed of his name was ever in honest
work. I answer you that if he hasn't gone already, ju-i so
soon as he can stir my boy shall take his place, musket in
hand, and you and yours may do your cow a nil \ worst."
" You've had fair warning, Mr. Wai lace," said t he stranger,
backing uneasily away from the menacing hand ol the old
mechanic. "You've done enough already to merit mob-
bing, as you call it, and it was our mercy and our for-
bearance that spared yon in the cab this day. IJnt as for
those who live in this suburb ami have gone to join the
gang of organized murder, and, under the t;uise ot militia-
men, to shoot down their suffering brothers, may l[c-a\<-n
help them if they once again show their faces '
And even as the speaker finished, over in the yards, be-
yond the long line of brown freight ears, went up a yell of
wrath, a savage MU-I of cheer that seemed to carry a shud-
der with it, a sound as of the rush of a thousand fed. and
presently men came darting urn: nhlim; upon tin-
cars, and gazing eagerly through or over the high
that separated them from the shop enclosure. '
815
'YOU MADE THOSE THREATS LAST NIGHT?" HE THUNDERED.
ing sight of the gathering at the main entrance, and recog-
nizing some familiar form, many among them began to ges-
ticulate, and cries were heard of "There he is!" "Traitor!"
" Scab !" " Scoundrel !" And lists were clinched, and clubs
were brandished, and mure men clambered to the car roofs,
and buys beat upon tlie fence with stones, and shouted
shrill taunt and insult.
" Yon hear f " said the stranger. " They're talking about
you now, and the traitor work you've done this day. Will
you go to your home and stay there, and see to it that Fred
makes no attempt to join his regiment ? Will yon promise
— promise to pull no throttle, handle no tool, uutil this
trouble's ended ?"
" Will I deal or dicker with such as you, do you dare to
think?" burst in old Wallace, mad with indignation. "Out
of my way, or I'll handle a tool to some purpose. Stand
aside and let me go where I belong," he ordered, for the
man stood at the doorway as though to oppose his passage,
but the fire and fury in the Scotchman's eye appalled him,
and instinctively he drew aside. Then with something like
the snort of a Highland stag, in sheer contempt the foreman
strode by and into the gloomy, uulighted shops, just as
Jim, with alarm and misery in his face, came panting to
the spot.
" For goodness sake, don't let them touch the old man, fel-
lows! Think how he's worked for the road for years before
we were horn. It's like home to him. You'd feel as he
does if you'd worked for it so long. Stoltz has been mak-
ing a speech inciting them to mob him. They're coming
noV. Speak to them, Mr. Steiuman," he implored the
.vtran.ner. " Speak to them, and stand them off."
"It's his owu folly," said Steinmau, waving Jim aside,
and starting to get out of the road. "I've pleaded with him
— warned him to 110 purpose. He insulted me — threatened
to split my skull. Ask these men here," he continued, and
the nodding heads and murmured words of the by -slanders-
gave i]iiiek assent. "I promised him protection if he'd
simply agree to go home and stay there, and keep that fool
nl ;i brother of yours from joining his regiment."
" He couldn't promise that," protested Jim, all breathless
with anxiety and grief. Already a crowd of rioters were
surging through the gate a hundred yards away, and
coming threateningly towards them. "The moment Fred
could get his head dressed he left. He's gone two hours
ago."
"Gone!" cried Steiuman ; "to join men who'd shoot us
down like dogs! Then let the old man swallow his pill,"
and turning to the coming throng the furious leader shouted,
" Conic on !"
To Jim Wallace's side came running now, trembling,
weeping with excitement and fear, a little boy of nine.
With one grab the burly freight conductor seized and fairly
slung him through the doorway into the dark interior,
sprang after him, turned and barred the heavy oaken door,
tln'ii seizing again the little fellow's hand, rushed him
through a long lane of half- completed cars, through dim
and gloomy aisles, and a maze of work-benches, until they
reached the north end of the shops, a long block away.
" Now, Billy boy," he cried, straining his little brother
one instant in his arms, "be a man for daddy's sake. Run
like the wind for the avenue. Fred's regiment can't be six
blorks away. Tell the Colouel they're killing father at the
shops. Away with yon. laddie !"
And like an arrow from the bow the little fellow sped,
even as the sound of battering beams thundered through
the resounding arches of the dark deserted shops, and Jim
went groping back to find his gray-haired father.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
816
OAKLEIGH.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS D E L A N D.
CHAPTEU VIII.
MISS BETSEY TRINKETT had risen Ijetimes this Fri-
day morning. She had planned to do some work in
her garden, and, besides, Miss Betsey was an early riser.
Ebenezer, the " hired man," when lie came back from
driving the cows to pasture, found her hard at work, in her
huge snn-bonnet and garden gloves, pruning the box that
formed the border of the old-fashioned garden.
Here bloomed together in delicious profusion roses —
white, red, and pink — sweet-william, dahlias, peonies,
mignonette, and heart's-ease, while the labyrinth which
wound in and out among them was the pride of Miss Bet-
sey's heart.
After a time she straightened herself and stood gazing
at the view, her quaint little figure, in its old-time gay-
colored gown, looking not unlike the flowers among which
it stood.
" Well, I want to know !"
she said, aloud, her hand
raised to shield her eyes.
"Any one who says his
view is better than mine
must be just about daft.
Landsakes! I'd just about
die if I didn't get that
sweep of the Merrimac
and those mountings be-
yond!" And then, satisfied,
she returned to her weed-
ing.
Miss Betsey's house —
in which she had been
born, and her father also —
stood on the side of a hill.
Behind was a steep pas-
ture, full of rocks and
stubby bushes. In front,
on the other side of tin-
road, the ground sloped
abruptly to the village.
Even, the old white meet-
ing-house, built on a hill
though it was, stood lo« er
than the Trinkett farm.
Beyond the village flowed
the beautiful Merrimac.
A broad stretch of mea-
dow-land and cultivated
fields rested the eye with
their peaceful greens, and
far away was the dim out-
line of the hills.
"Silas don't get a touch
of the river," continued
Miss Betsey; "and as for
the ruedders, they're no-
where to be seen. He
thinks because lie can see
the Common and the Sol-
diers' Monument his view's
better than mine ! Heex-
pects me to give up the
Merrimac for the Soldiers'
Monument ! Sakes alive!"
She worked steadily for
some time, until the click
of the gate attracted her
attention.
'•I want to know!" she
exclaimed, laying down
her tools and drawing off
her old gloves; "if here
ain't Nephew John and
Jackie and that naughty Cynthy. Well, well! And this
must be the bride." And she hurried down the path I..
meet them.
Cynthia came shyly forward after the introduction of
her step-mother and the greetings were over. All the way
in the train she had been meditating what she sljuiihl say.
With Jack's help she had composed a little speech. His
help had consisted in acting as audience, for Cynthia was
seldom at a loss for words. But when the time came the
speech deserted her, and all she could think of doing was
to put her arms around Aunt Betsey's neck, and, looking
into the depths of the big sun-bonnet, say, softly:
"Aunt Betsey, I'm so sorry! Will yon forgive me ?"
"Forgive you, child !" exclaimed the old lady, her resent-
ment melting at sight of her favorite niece. "I want to
know! Did you suppose I'd remembered to be angry all
this time ? La, Cynthy, when you're as old as I am you'll
•I WANT TO KNOW!" SHE EXCLAIMED, DRAWING OFF HEK OLD GLOVES.
817
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
have learned to take a little joke. And don't yon suppose
I'm real pleased to have you look so much like me ? If
Mrs. Parker couldn't 1611 us apart there must be some re-
gemblance."
•' Nor Jack, either," put in Cynthia, eagerly, with a light-
ened heart.
'•I think yon are too good to her, Annt Betsey." said Mr.
Franklin, as they walked towards the house. " I brought
her up here to-day for the sole purpose of apologizing."
" Do tell! And I nearly disrcniembered it entirely ! But
I'm reul glad to see you and my new niece. Come right
into the best parlor."
She opened the door, and with reverent step ushered
them into the carefully kept ''best parlor." An immacu-
late carpet, ever shielded from the light of day, covered the
floor, and a horse-hair sofa and a few chairs of the same
inhospitable material stood at regular intervals from one
another.
A pair of tall vases and some sea-shells decked the man-
tel-piece. During their childhood it had beeu a rare treat
to Jack and Cynthia to hold these shells to their ears and
listen to the "roar of the ocean" within. On a table be-
tween the windows were some wax flowers under a glass,
and on the marble-topped centre table were a few books
placed together in neat little piles.
Mrs. Franklin was given the place of honor, the large
arm-chair. The chair being a high one, and she being a
rather small woman, her feet barely touched the floor, and
she sat in constant terror lest she should slide ignomiui-
ously to the ground.
It was so dark when they entered the room that Mr.
Franklin stumbled over a worsted-work footstool which
stood in a prominent place, but Miss Trinkett opened the
blinds a crack, and two bars of blazing July sunshine fell
across the carpet. Then she sat down to entertain her
guests, but her mind wandered. The Franklins all talked,
but Miss Betsey was unusually silent. '• I want to know!"
and "Do tell!" came at random. Finally she said, with a
hasty glance at the sunlight:
"I wonder now if you'd mind coming into my sitting-
room ? I'd be real pleased to have you, and maybe we'd
find it cooler."
They all jumped to their feet with alacrity. Miss Betsey
closed her blinds again with a sigli of relief, and in the
freer atmosphere of the sitting-room, secure in the know-
ledge that her best-parlor carpet was uo longer fading, she
found her tongue.
"I was coming to see yon, niece, just as soon as I could
see my way to it. Marthy, my hired girl, has been off for
a spell, and that's kept me busy. I'd have written, but I'm
a poor hand at writing. Silas he says he wonders the let-
ters I write ever get there, but then he's one of the doubt-
ing kind, Silas is. I've great faith in government. I think
as long as they undertake to carry letters about at all,
they've got sense enough to carry 'em safe, even if I do
disremember part of the direction sometimes. And it's
wonderful, as I've said many a time before, what you can
send through the mails nowadays. But now tell me about
those poor little orphans in the poultry-yard."
The success of the last hatch was described to her; in
fact, all the uews of Brentou was asked for and received,
and in turn bits of Wayborough gossip were 'told to the
attentive Mrs. Franklin, while Silas's latest sayings were
repeated and commented upon.
When Jack and Cynthia had gone out-doors, Miss Betsey
drew her chair a little closer to that of Mrs. Franklin.
"My dear — Hester, I think your name is, and Hester it
will be my pleasure to call yon — my dear Hester, I want
to tell yon first and foremost that I'm real pleased yon
should come and be a mother to those children of Nephew
John's. They needed you ; they needed you badly. And
now I'm going to treat you as one of the family, and talk
over a little matter with you and John. You've probably
heard of Silas Green. He's been courting me these forty
years, and now he's got it into his head that he can't be
climbing this hill any more of a Sunday night. He wants
me to fix the day ! I declare, it kind of takes the stiffening
right out of me to think of fixing the day after all these
years, and I still hold out, as I can't give up my view of tho
river."
•• What are yon going to do about it, Aunt Betsey ?"
•' That's just it, John. Well. I'm going to hold out a lit-
tle longer, and I think — in fact, I'm pretty sure — that Silas
is weakening. You see, it's kind of lonesome for him down
there, now his sister's dead that kept house for him, and it
is depressing to have nothing much to look at but the
Common and the Soldiers' Monument. Yes, I think he's
weakening, and I shouldn't wonder if you were to lind him
here next time you come. But I'll let you know in time to
come to the wedding, you may be sure of that. But there's
something else I want to speak about."
Here Miss Betsey paused. She folded her hands anew
in her lap, and, rocking briskly, waited for some one to
speak. The clock on the chimney-shelf ticked comforta-
bly, and Miss Trinkett's canary chirped and hopped about
in its cage at the window. Mrs. Franklin looked at her
husband.
" And what is that, Aunt Betsey ?" said he. " Somehow
you have so taken uiy breath away by hinting that yon are
going to make Mr. Silas Green happy, after all these years,
that I can't take in anything else."
" Ah, now, my dear boy, don't jump too quickly at a con-
clusion. Things may not be any nearer a settling now
than they were forty years ago. It's all a question of view,
and men are terribly set in their ways. However, to con-
tinue : I want to make each of the children a present. I
feel that I'm getting on in life — though I'm not so very old
either, but still no cue knows what may happen — and I'd
rather do things up before I die than have it all a-going on
after I'm laid away. I never did think much of wills, any-
how. So I'm going to send 'em each a present from time to
time as I feel inclined."
" Nonsense, Aunt Betsey !" said Mr. Franklin. " You are
not going to die for many a year yet, and you give the chil-
dren enough. Keep your money."
"Now yon needn't say a word, John. My mind's made
up, and it takes a deal to make me change it — it's in the
Triukett blood. And then I like to get the letters the
children write to thank me. I must say I'm powerful fond
of their letters, 'specially Cynthy's. She does write a beau-
tiful letter. I'll send 'em each in turn, beginning with Edith
and ending up with Willy. Of course they can do what
they like with the money, but it would be uiy advice to put
it in the savings-bank. It's wonderful how money does roll
up in an institution of that kind.'1
Miss Betsey could not be turned from her purpose, so her
nephew was forced to content himself with begging her, if
she sent money through the mails, to address it carefully.
"One would think, nephew, from the way you talk that
I didn't know how to write, "said the old lady, with some
asperity.
Jack and Cynthia in the mean time were exploring the
farm. It was a never-failing source of pleasure to them,
accustomed to farm life though they were.
" This is a really true farm," said Cynthia ; " not a make-
believe, like ours, with a hired farmer to do it all. And
Aunt Betsey's garden is a thousand times nicer than ours,
and her hens are all so big and strong-looking."
"That's only because you've beeu looking so much at the
' little orphans.' By-the-way, I wonder how they're getting
on. I do wish I hadn't had to leave home to-day. I won-
der if Neal will attend to things? Queer kind of a duf-
fer, isn't he, Cyuth?"
" Yes ; but I like him. He's awfully lazy and all that, but
I think I'd trust him."
"Oh, I'd trust him far enough, except where hard work's
concerned. In that line I think I'd rather trust myself.
But I wish it was time to go home."
" So do I," said Cynthia, thoughtfully. " I have a feeling
that something is going on there and we are missing it.
Aunt Betsey's isn't as much fun as usual, though she was
awfully good to forgive me so easily. And you have been
frightening me about it all the way. Jack."
At last the day wore on, and amid cordial good-byes from
Miss Betsey, her relatives took leave.
"I'll send you something for those little orphans at
818
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Christmas- time, Jackie/' she called after them, "though
this being only July, I hope to see you before then."
When tbe party reached home they found Bob shaven
and shorn, Neal in his most careless and teasing frame of
mind, Edith depressed and silent, and the children in dis-
grace.
"Iknew something was happening while we were away."
whispered Cynthia to Jack.
"If only we hadn't missed it !" returned he. " Smashing
the buggy and shaving Bob, all in one day! It's a regular
shame that we weren't on hand.''
"It seems to me that yon were neglecting things some-
what to-day, Edith," said her father, when In- heard the
story.
There! it had come. Of course she was to he censured,
as she had expected.
" I didn't know I was to be tied hand and foot and look
after the children every minute of the day, "she answered,
crossly ; " and it was not my fault that we weut to the woods
and broke tbe buggy."
"I don't care iu the least about the buggy, but about
Neal's dog."
This was too much. Edith felt badly herself about the
dog, but surely she was not responsible. She bad not been
tbe means of bringing him to Oakleigb, she said to herself.
She was about to reply, when Mrs. Franklin interposed and
diverted her husband's mind from the subject. This still
further annoyed Edith.
Why should Mrs. Franklin feel called upon to interfere
between her and her father ? And she encouraged herself
to dislike more than ever the" intruders "at Oakleigh.
The summer went by. More chickens were hatched, un-
til they numbered four hundred, and then "Franklin &
Gordon " concluded that they would not fill the machine
again this season. The stock must be carefully tended
during the winter, and Jack would have his hands full,
though one of the men would help him if necessary.
Jack was to go to Boston to school this winter. Neal
was going back to boarding-school ; it was his last year,
and next autumn he hoped to begin college life.
One fine day towards the end of the summer Cynthia and
Neal walked out over the pasture to the " far meadow,"
and sat down iu the shade of a huge hay-stack. The air
was full of the hum of fall insects, and grasshoppers alighted
here, there, and every where about them. Neal tried in vain
to catch one with his hat. Then he tossed it to one side,
and clasping his hands behind his head, leaned back against
the hay with a heavy sigh.
"What is the matter ?" asked Cynthia. "I should think
you had the weight of the world on your shoulders."
"And so I have. I've a good mind to trot out tbe
whole story to you, Cynth. I wonder if it would do any
good ?"
" Of course it would," replied Cynthia, promptly. " There
is nothing like talking a thing over, and, besides, I've
wanted dreadfully to know what has been the matter with
you."
"How did you know anything was?"
" I have seen you growing glummer and glummer. You
haven't been nearly as jolly lately. And when you got that
letter this morning you looked as if you would like to punch
somebody."
" You do take in a lot ! I never supposed anybody would
notice. I wonder if Hessie did ?"
" I saw her looking at you."
"I wish she'd look to some purpose, aud hand out what
I want. She's so taken up with you Franklins nowa-
days."
•• What do you want ?"
" Money, of course."
" Why, Neal, mamma gave you a lot the other day !'
" Oh, "that was a mere drop in the bucket. Yes, I really
think I'll have to tell you what atix I'm in. Perhaps you'll
see some way out of it."
"Do," said Cynthia, sympathetically; "I am sure
will."
•• Well, it's just this: I owe a lot of money to a felh
that goes to St. Asaph's, aud I had a letter from him this
morning asking me to fork out at once, or he would write
to my guardians or speak to the trustees :it I he school. It's
a nasty thing to do, anyhow. 1 don'i think the fellow is
a gentleman."
"Then why did you ever have anything to do with him .'"
"That's just like a girl ! I'm son \ Itnldyou."
"Oh, don't say that! Indeed.it only just struck me that
people who are not gentlemen are so horrid. 1'lease ni> on.
Neal, and tell me the rest."
"There's nothing to tell except that I owe him a hun-
dred dollars."
"One hundred dollars! Neal !" To Cynthia this seemed
a fortune. "Why, how did yon ever spend it all?"
"Spend it! Easily enough. Suppers once in a while,
ginger-pop, candy, cigarettes "
"I didn't know you smoked."
"Neither I do. I just do it occasionally to show I'm up
to it. But it's no go if you're training, and I'm training
most of the time. But you have to keep cigarettes on hand
for the fellows."
"But, Neal, you told me once how large your allowance
is, and I don't see how you ever in the world managed to
spend so much more."
"Easily enough, as I said before. You see, I have the
name of being a rich fellow, and I have to live up to it,
which makes it hard. I have to live up to it, when, after
all, I'm practically dependent on Hessie. I haven't a cent
of my own until I'm twenty-live. This fellow Bronsou
offered to lend me a liver one day. ami I not into the habit
of asking him. I didn't mean to let it run on so long.
He's a queer lot — awfully smooth on the outside, and inside,
hard as nails. We were good friends at first ; then he did
something I didn't like, and I cut him : but he didn't seem
to mind it, and afterwards when he ottered me the fiver I
thought I might as well take it. What a mean will that
was anyhow of grandmother's!"
Neal moodily tugged at a wisp of straw which he held
in his teeth, and looked across the meadow. A herd of
cows came down on the opposite side of the river for a
drink, aud Bob barked at them loudly, running as near to
them as he dared.
For a time Cynthia did not speak. Then she said.
"Aren't you going to a-.k mamma .'"
"I suppose I'll have to. I wouldn't mind a bit if she
were not married, but I suppose your father will have to
know about it."
"I suppose," said Cynthia, sagely, " mamma would have
just given it to you without saying anything, while papa
will ask questions."
"That's just about the size of it. And he will not only
ask the questions, but he won't like the answers. I think
I won't tackle them for a hundred all at once. I'll put it
at fifty, and try to get Bronsou to wait for the rest. I
suppose I'll get some tips at Christmas-time."
"I think it would be ever so much better, Neal, to tell
the whole truth. It will save ever so much trouble iu the
end."
"But it won't save trouble now, aixl I hate a fuss. The
fifty business will be bad enough. I like to take things
quietly."
"That's just it, Neal. Do take my advice, and tell
mamma the whole thiug."
••That's the worst of telling a girl anything. They al-
ways want to give advice. I wonder why it is that a wo-
man from her earliest years loves to advi.-e .''
"Much you know about it." said Cynthia; "and you
needn't have told me about your si-rape if you didn't want
me to say anything."
"Well, I've told you now, and you must gi\e me your
word of honor that you will never yi\e me away. Now
promise, Cynthia."
"Of course I'll promise, Neal. I wouldn't tell it for
the world if you don't want me to. Hut. oh. I » ish you
would tell the whole thing yourself!"
But Neal was obdurate : and when he found how
brother-in-law received his demand for fifty doll.ii> be
thought he had acted wisely.
"Of course it is not really my affair." said Mr. 1'rankliu,
619
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"except that I am your sister's hnsbaucl, and have a right
to advise her. The mouey is hers, to do with it what she
likes, aud she cau speud it all on you if she wishes. But I
think fifty dollars is a good deal for a school-boy, with the
allowance that you have, to owe. If you were my boy I
should look into the matter pretty carefully, you may be
sure. However, I am neither your father uor your guardi-
an. But it is a bad precedent. If you spend money in this
way at school, what will yon do in college f"
Hester expostulated with her brother, but wrote a check
and gave it to him. Neal was almost sorry then that he
had not placed the sum at one hundred.
He sent the check to Branson, assuring him that ho
would pay him the balance before long. This done, Neal
became as gay and debonair as ever. Cynthia, knowing
the facts, wondered that he could so completely forget the
burden of debt that was still resting upon him. She
thought that he must have discovered some other way of
settling the matter.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE UNITED STATES NAVY AT THE
BALTIC CANAL.
BY A JUNIOR OFFICER.
" /~1 EXERAL Sigual 6421 from flag-ship!" cried the sig-
VjT nal boy to signal officer of the U. S. S. San Francisco,
as our fleet approached the entrance to Kiel Fiord.
"Keport to the Captain that we are ordered by the llag-
ship to take position at head of column," replied the sig-
nal officer, referring to signal-book.
Simultaneously the U. S. flag-ship -Yew Toi-k stopped her
engines, allowing the U. S. S. San Francisco aud U. S. S. Co-
lumbia to steam ahead, leading the column into the harbor
of Kiel, Germany, in order that they might be in proper
sequence for picking up the buoys assigned them during
the festivities attending the opening of the large-ami im-
portant canal connecting the Baltic with the North Sea.
Ahead, beyond the light guarding the entrance to Kiel
Fiord, which is nothing more 'than a long laud -locked
harbor five miles long by one and a half broad, we could
see ships and boats by the score.
We are entering the harbor. Ding! aud the engines are
stopped, lines are thrown to the small lauuch coming
alongside, and a German officer is helped aboard, who vol-
unteers to show us to our assigned buoyage. The first of
the unbroken series of hospitalities shown us by the Ger-
mans during our entire stay has been performed. Chan-
ging course to port, ahead we could see the spires and build-
iugs of Kiel several miles distant ; abeam, the little town of
Friedrichsort close aboard ; on our bow, distant about four
miles, lay the little town of Holteuau, really little else than
a suburb of Kiel, and here was pointed out by the pilot the'
canal, the opening of which we had come to celebrate. On
our port hand the shore extended evenly from Kiel to our
port beam, clothed in verdure, sprinkled by occasional vil-
las, and marked particularly by a small hill just opposite
the entrance to the canal, which had been surmounted liy
an immense stand for the reception of spectators to the
yacht races following the opening week. In this harbor
lay the German fleet, consisting of twenty-eight VCSM-IS,
aside from torpedo-boats, and the Austrian fleet of four,
many yachts, tugs, aud steamers chartered for the functions.
While gazing at the array before us we are aroused by the.
21-guii salute of the flag-ship, fired in honor of the port.
We now approach the Gerrnau training-ships. The men
a rejn the rigging. Three cheers ring out from the mass
in the rigging. "Stand by to cheer ship!" yells the First
Lieutenant. "Lay aloft!" and our rigging is a mass of
human beings. "Stand by to cheer — hip, hip!" aud the
three long, hearty cheers of the Germans are returned.
Again and again is this repeated as we slowly steam up
by the line of ships riding to their moorings, the cheers
ringing out even above the gnus of the AVtr York, which, it
must be remembered, are all of this time eugaged in a nm-
stant fusillade iu extending aud returning salutes to the
Admirals of the various fleets.
Arriving at our buoy, we find that the boat which wo
had manned, ready for lowering, is unnecessary, as a
German boat was waiting to carry out our hawser to the
buoy. We are moored. Our position is not the best, but,
being near the town, it counterbalances the disadvantage
of being some distance from the canal eutrauce.
The two days now elapsing before the opening of the
festivities, the grand ball at Hamburg, are days of prepa-
TUE AMERICAN SQTJADRON AT THE KIEL NAVAL REVIEW.
820
THE WAR-SHIPS PASSING THROUGH THE CANAL.
ratiou. The last touches are put on onr white lustrous
sides; the smallest particles of dirt or stain are carefully
removed; morning and evening' the various ships' boats
are seen practising for the coining' races. Entertainments
have already begun. The officers of each Germau ship
diligently apply themselves to the entertainment of the
officers of the ship or ships assigned them, while the crews
of our vessels accept similar hospitalities from the crews
of theirs. These days also witness the arrival of the other
numerous fleets — Denmark with two cruisers and four
torpedo-boats; England with six battle-ships, two large
cruisers, and two torpedo-boats, and two yachts; France
with the Hoi'he, Dupuij lie Lome, and Snrconf ; the Italians
with nine vessels of all classes; Holland with two
cruisers; Norway with two; Portugal with one; Roumania
with two; Russia with three; Sweden
three ; Spain three ; and others, mak-
ing a total iu harbor on the morning
of June 19th of eighty-six war-vessels,
aside from torpedo-boats. Besides this,
the numerous yachts, liners, and tugs
made the harbor fairly covered with
floating habitations.
On this date the Admiral of our fleet,
accompanied by nis staff, went to Ham-
burg, where he had previously ordered
tht^ MnrliU-hi'H(1,m\r smallest vessel, to
await him. Here, after the ball, which
opened the festivities, he went aboard
that vessel and steamed down to Bruns-
biittel, the mouth of the canal, where a
column of sixteen vessels, headed by
H. M. steam-yacht Hohen:ulh'rn, began
at 4 A.M. the passage through the canal.
This canal connects the Elbe (at Brnus-
biittel) to the Baltic at Kiel by a rather
tortuous passage of 65 miles in length.
It is from 27 to 30 feet deep,70 feet broad
at the bottom, and 120 feet at the top.
Tin- total cost was 15(5,000,000 marks—
$39,000,000.
At H A.M., June 20th, the holiday as-
pect suddenly came over the fleets.
The few flags and banners that the smaller boats
had flown proudly the past few days were put to
shame when at one instant, on the stroke of eight bells
(A.M.), every ship hoisted her rainbow of every flag,
extending from water-line forward over masts to water-
line aft. Then the celebration began at Kiel. At noon
the exit of the Emperor's yacht with the imperial party
aboard was celebrated by the firing of thirty-three guns by
each ship in the harbor, with rails manned, and officers iu
full dress.
At 8 P.M. the grand ball was given at Kiel. Four
thousand people were present, representing all nations.
The Emperor and royal party were there, and officers not
having already met him were there presented.
The following day the ships were full dressed at 8 A.M.
THE EMPEROR'S YACHT OPENING THE CANAL
821
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
At 1 P.M. -were the inaugural ceremonies at the month
of the canal. Uniform full dress. Rails were maimed,
ami ships passing by the Emperor gave three cheers. Dur-
ing the afternoon the Hohenzolleru steamed through the
fleet, anil was sainted and cheered as before.
This was the uight of the grand illumination. The com-
manders of the visiting countries had their ships outlined
by electric lights, taking in funnels, masts, rails, etc. Those
of the United States had besides this their name iu three-
foot letters, and a large shield showing stars and stripes.
Iu the midst of this display lights were suddenly cut oil1,
and for an hour the flag-ship AV'ir York sent forth a display
of fireworks not equalled in any other fleet. The most
notable features were fire-likenesses of President Cleveland
and Emperor William II. and the American and German
conts of anus, all in immense frames, 16 by 20 feet.
As the festivities approach an end, so do I near the point
where I shall leave you to till in the omissions iu your
imaginations.
On the 22d the ships did not again hoist the rainbow, but
instead floated a flag from each mast-head. A German
manoeuvring fleet went out in the early morning for llert
manoeuvres, sham -battle, and review by Empress. At
noou they returned, and the festival-time of Kiel was over.
The officers were still entertained, courtesies extended
as before. Boat-racing received an impetus as the time ap-
proached. Visitors were received aboard ship, hut the
difference could be felt; the throng on the water diminished ;
the town, hitherto so gayly decorated, became more sober.
Everything pointed that the festival was over, the canal
was open, the entire celebration was a grand success.
America's fleet of snow-white cruisers, her display, her
representation, when so far distant, have won unanimous
praise and applause, and may be reckoned by all Americans
as the grandest success of all.
fHg
CAMERA
This Department is conducted in the interest of Amateur Photographers, ami the Editor will
be pleased to answer any question cm the subject eo far as possible Correspondents should
address Editor Camera Club Department.
PAPERS FOR BEGINNERS, No. 11.
INTENSIFICATION OR REDEVELOPMENT.
A NEGATIVE which lias been overexposed and devel-
oped iu a normal .developer, while perfect in detail,
will he thin and without contrast. This is because it is un-
derdeveloped, the chemicals acting too quickly to allow it
to gain density. A satisfactory print cannot he made from
such a negative, as the film, being so transparent, allows the
light to reach all parts of the paper almost at once, and the
print when toned is a dull slaty gray.
An overexposed and underdeveloped plate may be re-
developed, and this process is usually called strengthening
or intensifying. Solutions come ready prepared for use,
but the amateur who wishes can prepare his own.
The bichloride-of-mereury formula is one of the most
satisfactory for the young amateur. This is in three solu-
tions, made up and kept in separate bottles, labelled respec-
tively No. 1, No. 2, No. 3. No. 1 is composed of bichloride of
mercury, 120 grains; chloride of ammonium, 120 grains;
distilled water, 10 ounces. No. 2 is composed of chloride of
ammonium, 1->0 grains ; water, 10 ounces. No. 3 is sulphite
of sodium crystals, 1 ounce; water, 9 ounces.
Wash the plate for a few minutes, and then place it for
ten minutes in a flve-per-cent. solution of alum, and wash for
half an hour. Place the negative in a glass tray, and flow
enough of the solution marked No. 1 to cover it. Tin- neg-
ative will turn white, and as soon as it is white, or nearly
so, turn off the solution, and flow with No. 2 for one minute.
li'inse the plate again, and cover with the solution marked
No. :i. and let it remain till the negative has changed to a
dark brown or black. Wash for an hour and dry. No. 3
can be returned to the bottle, but the others had better be
thrown away after using once.
Another method is to bleach or whiten the plate with a
solution of bichloride of mercury, and then treat the plate
with a hydrochiuon developer. Dissolve a quarter-ounce
of bichloride of mercury iu 12 ounces of water. Soak tho
plate for a few minutes in clear water, till the film is thor-
oughly wet. Place it face up in a. glass tray, and turn the
mercuric solution over it, till the image first disappears and
again becomes visible. Take the plate from the tray and
wash away every trace of the mercury. Place it in a de-
veloping tray, and cover the plate with a fresh solution of
hydrochinon developer. (Any formula will answer.) In a
few minutes the negative will come out almost as strong as
if it had been properly exposed and developed. Wash thor-
oughly and dry. If the plate does not need much intensi-
fying, leave it in the mercuric solution just long enough lor
the surface to whiteu.
Another formula for intensifying is one which can be
used as soon as the plates have been developed and fixed,
and gives the required strength to quite thin negatives.
This is prepared in three solutions, and used in the same
way as the first formula given. No. 1, bichloride of mer-
cury, 2 parts ; water, 100 parts. No. 2, iodide of potassium,
3 parts ; water, 33 parts. No. 3, sodic acetate, 4 parts ; wa-
ter, 33 parts.
Caution : Mark all bottles containing intensifying solu-
tions "Poison," be very careful in handling, and keep them
locked up when not in use. Bichloride of mercury (cor-
rosive sublimate) is .a violent poison, and a grain or two of
it taken internally may prove fatal. An antidote is the
whites of eggs beaten up with water and given promptly,
repeatedly, and abundantly. The albumen of the egg ren-
ders the salts of mercury insoluble, and enables the stom-
ach to throw ofl'the poison instead of absorbing it into the
system.
MM.E. C. HE GRAMONT, Paris, France, asks " If an amateur can make
a non-halation plate, and how, and what is ttie best method of sensitiz-
ing the salted paper described in No. 796?" Plates already sensitized can
be covered, rendered almost free from halation by painting the back or
glass side with a mixture of collodion and rouge. In place of the rouge
uny dark red or brown pigment may be used. The mixture dries quickly,
and is easily wiped off the plate before developing. Another 'mixture
may be mide of y, oz. gum-arabic, 1 drachm of glycerine, y, oz. burnt
sienna,:and 5 oz. water. Heal enough of the water to dissolve the gum-
arabic, and when cold mix all the ingredients together. Apply with a
brush. After exposure and before developing it should be wiped off the
plate with a cloth wet with benzine. In No. SOS will be found further di-
rections for preparing plain salted paper. The easiest way to sensitize
the paper is to cut it into 8 by 10 sheets, lay a piece on a pane of glass,
holding it from curling by two or three letter-clips; or, if preferred, a
smooth board can be used and the paper fastened to the board with small
thumb tacks. Appl3' lightly and evenly, first one way and then the other
at right angles. Be sure that all the paper is covered. Dry iu a dark
room, pinning the paper to the wall or some smooth surface. After two
or three times trying one can apply the solution evenly. The prints are
very beautiful, and if well washed do not fade.
ANSWERS TO BICVKRAL CORRESPONDENTS. — We have had many queries as
to how one may become a member of the Camera Club. Any member of
the Hound Table may become a member of the club by sending hie or
her name to the Round Table. We hope all of our readers who own
cameras will join the club, as we expect to give some new and original
plans for work during the year.
SIR KNIOUT B. P. ATKINSON, Tiltou, New Hampshire, asks, 1. What is
Eikonogen made from, and what is the chemical name. 2. What is the
difference between chrome alum and alum crystals. 3. When we expect
to have another photographic contest. 4. Is Watkin'8 exposure meter a
reliable machine. 5. How can films be kept from curling.
1. Eikonogen is the sodium salt compounded from three different
chemicals, and comes in whitish-gray crystals. It is the name of a de-
veloping agent patented by Dr. Andreson about six years ago. It is not
poisonous, does not stain the fingers, and gives a clear negative with
plenty of detail. 2. The difference between chrome alum and alum crys-
tals is principally that chrome alum has twice the strength of alum crys-
tals, being a double salt, instead of the commercial aium usually sold.
Both chrome alum and alum crystals are used for the same purpose in
photography, for clearing and hardening the film of the negative. 3.
The date has not yet been fixed for our next photographic contest, but
we intend to have another soon. 4. It is out of our province to pass judg-
ment on any kind of photographic apparatus ft. Films may be kept
from curling by soaking them after they have been developed and hefore
they have been dried, in a solution of glycerine, i oz., distilled waler, U
oz , for five minutes, and then drying as usual.
822
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
some hours in advance of the letter you write at the first
opportunity after reaching your friend's house.
No LETTEU should ever be marred by excuses and apolo-
gies.
TMi Department is conducted in the intere§t of Girls and Young Wnmen. and the Editor will
)i~ i.l^i^e.i t<> ui-wer any question on the subject &o fur as possible. Correspoodents should
nddress Editor.
ONE of my girls inquires bow to ask for nil autograph
of a person whom she admires, aud which she thinks
would add to the interest of her collection. Such a letter
might be written in this way:
DAISY MEAD, BKOOKVILLE, NEW YOIIK.
.\fra.Snrilli Mill-in I 'lifnti i- :
DEAR MADAM, — I nm making a collection of autographs,
and would feel much honored if you would kindly allow
me to add yours to the number I have already received. I
enclose a slip of paper and a stamped and addressed en-
velope, and thanking yon in advance for granting the fa-
vor I ask, I am, Very sincerely yours,
ELEANOR ALICE AMK.S.
Or perhaps yon may like better this simpler form :
No. 189 ASIITAIIFLA STUEKT, ROME, ILLINOIS.
DEAR Mus. LADYLOVE. — I am a little girl twelve years
old, living a great many miles from you, but I have read
your poems and stories, and like them very much. It will
make me very happy to receive your autograph. Please
use the slip of paper which I enclose in the stamped and
addressed envelope, which I add to save you trouble.
Admiringly yours, EMILY ANNE JINKS.
The form of address, you observe, is not arbitrary. But
you must be polite. You are soliciting a favor. And you
must certainly send the envelope addressed to yourself,
and stamped. Always enclose return postage in a letter
which asks a friend to do you a kindness, to send you infor-
mation, or in any way to oblige you. One little two-cent
stamp is not very much to either your correspondent or
yourself, but postage-stamps soon count up when oue has a
great many letters to write and answer.
ANOTHER girlie says, " Please tell me how soon I ought
to answer my friend's letter — the same day, or the next, or
in a week, or what ?" Bless your dear heart, my child, an-
swer as soou as you please, and if you are writing to some-
body you love, who loves you, the sooner tbe better. A
lady who has a large correspondence tells me that she al-
ways replies to her friends while their letters are fresh in
her mind, before the glow and tenderness have faded. It is,
as a rule much easier to answer a letter when you have re-
cently read it than when it lias been put aside for days and
weeks. Still, much depends mi the style of the correspond-
ence, and on the tie which binds you to your friend.
I HAVE lately been reading some very remarkable letters.
They are published in a book called Letters from the New
Hebrides, and are by Maggie Whitecross Paton, the wife of
the great missionary Dr. John G. Paton. I think these let-
ters are very nearly perfect, so bright, so chatty, so full of
simple goodness. Mrs. Patou has the gift of seeing things,
and then telling about them so that we see with her eyes.
I WISH I might impress on you the importance of an-
swering questions which may have been asked by your
correspondent. Before closing a letter which is by way of
reply, why not read over the one which calls it forth, and
make siiri' that you have not omitted anything concern-
ing which you have been asked to give information.
POSTAL CARDS should be used exclusively for purposes
of business, the exception being that wheu on a journey
it is a good plan to carry a postal card, addressed before
you leave home, pencil ou it the news of your safe ar-
rival, and mail it in the station before going to your jour-
ney's end. This often gives the home people news of you
f
TRAVELLING STONES IN NEVADA.
THE curious "travelling stones" of Australia arc paral-
leled in Nevada. They are described as being perfect-
ly round, about as large as a walnut, and of an ivory nature.
When distributed about on the floor, table, or any smooth
surface within two or three feet of each other, they imme-
diately commence travelling toward each oilier, and meet
at a common centre, and there lie huddled in a bunch like
eggs in a nest. A single stone removed to a distance of
four feet, upon being released, returns to the heap, but if
taken away as much as five feet remains motionless. It is
needless to say that they are largely composed of magnetic
ON BOARD THE ARK.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTER II.
AS soon as Tommy recovered his self-possession — or as
much of it as he could under these trying circum-
stances— he opened his eyes and looked about him. He could
not see much, for they were apparently racing down a dark,
narrow corridor, " like a telegram in a pneumatic tube," he
thought. But his eyes gradually grew accustomed to the
darkness, and he could see that tliere were pictures ou the
walls — battle pictures, and scenes representing all sorts of
historical events. He caught a glimpse of Washington
crossing the Delaware, and of the battle of Bunker Hill ;
he saw the taking of the Bastille, and the great London
fire. Soon he saw the Spanish Armada and the Crusades,
and, later, the burning of Rome, Julius C;esar crossing the
Rubicon, the siege of Carthage, the building of the Parthe-
non, the destruction of Troy, the fall of Babylon, and af-
terwards many other things that he could not recognize.
They all seemed to whiz past him in a sort of confused
blur. He screwed up courage enough finally to call out to
the ex-Pirate :
" Wh-wh-wh-at is th-this pl-pla-ce, and how 1-long are
we g-goitig to go 1-like th-this .'"
" Th-th-these are the halls of Time," the ex-Pirate shout-
ed in reply. " We are going hack through them as far as
the Deluge."
This explanation was not very satisfactory to Tommy,
and although up to the present moment he had not had a
chance to think of getting scared, he now began to feel
slightly alarmed at what had happened. lie was about to
question the ex-Pirate again, wheu suddenly ihcre was a
great burst of light, and they seemed to shoot out ot'tbe
tunnel they had been travelling through. Tommy felt the
grasp of Father Time's hand loosen, aud the next thing he
knew he was rolling head over heels ou top of a liig hay-
stack in the middle of a broad sunny licld. He pulled him-
self together as soon as he could, aud found the ex -Pirate
sitting in the hay beside him with a somewhat bewildered
expression on his face.
"I don't think I like that sort of thing very much." re-
marked Tommy.
"I can't quite say that I do either," said the ex-Pirate,
feeling to see if his pistols were still in his sash.
" Where is Father Time .'" continued the liltlr boy.
"I don't know. Perhaps he is going ahead HOB ai his
regular rate of sixty seconds to the minute."
Tommy scratched his head meditativch and looked about
him. The field in which the hay-stack stood was surround-
ed by hills aud forests, and here and there could b,
\aiious kinds of animals travelling in pairs. Over the,
823
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"WHY, THAT ARK IS JUST LIKE MINE!" EXCLAIMED TOMMY
crests of tbe trees, directly in front of them, the little buy
espied something that looked like the roof of an immense
barn. He called the ex-Pirate's attention to it.
"That must be the Ark," said the latter, rising. "Let's
go and rind out."
Tliey clambered down the hay-stack into the field, and
started off in the direction of the woods. There was not
any path for them to follow, and occasionally they had to
wade through tall grass that reached almost up to their
waists. lu one of these clumps of herbage they heard
voices.
"Oh dear! oh dear!" said one voice, "I am sure we
shall be late. We are always late. Oh dear! oh dear! I
wonder what time it is!"
Tommy and the ex-Pirate, stopped and looked about
them ; but they could not see any one, and were about to
proceed on their way, when they heard the same plaint
again. They parted the tall grasses and followed the direc-
tion whence the sounds appeared to come, until they found
two Turtles plodding along as fast as they could over the
rough ground. It was the larger of the two Turtles that
was wailing over the probability of their being late in ar-
riving wherever they were going.
'• What's the matter?" asked the ex-Pirate.
The Turtles paused and looked up.
'• The matter ?" exclaimed the larger Turtle. "Look at
this," and he pulled a newspaper clipping out from under
his shell. " I am sure we shall be late."
The ex-Pirate took the piece of paper aud looked at it.
It was au advertisement :
DKJ.CGK LINI::
THE AUK
Will sail at NOON precisely.
"I am sure we shall miss the boat," continued the Tur-
tle, nervously. " What time is it, please f"
Tommy and the ex-Pirate looked at each other. Neither
one had a watch.
"I can't tell you what time it is," answered the
little boy. " I'm not big
enough to have a watch ;
and the last, time I saw the
clock it was going so fast
I could not tell what time
it was."
" Well," said the Turtle,
"you are more polite than
the Cuckoos, anyway. But
I am sure we shall be late."
" I guess not," said the
ex - Pirate, reassuringly.
"Don't get nervous about
it. There is always a de-
lay. The Ark won't sail
on time. Aud besides, they
•will have to -wait for the
mails."
" Oh no," persisted the
Turtle. ''They won't have
to wait for the males, be-
cause we are going aboard
iu pairs."
" Can't we carry tlie
poor things ?" suggested
Tommy. " It would be too
bad if they got left."
The Turtle looked up at
the little boy with an ex-
pression of overwhelming
gratitude. This was all
that was needed to per-
suade the ex-Pirate, and
so he and Tommy leaned
over aud each picked up a Turtle and tucked it under his
arm.
"This reminds me of a conversation I overheard once,"
said the ex-Pirate, as they started off again. "I made a clas-
sic out of it ; and as the Sheep is not here to object uow, I
will recite it to you :
" ' It is much to be regretted,'
Said the Turtle to the Snail,
That as rapid - transit creatures
\Ve so signally must fail.
"'But yet we should be thankful
That Nature still allows us
To carry on our weary 'backs
The wherewithal to house us.' "
"Correct!" blurted out the Turtle from under the ex-
Pirate's arm. "Is there any danger of these pistols going
off?"
" No," replied the ex-Pirate ; " they are loaded."
" That's all right, then," he said, with a sigh of relief; " I
was afraid they were not loaded."
Tommy and the ex-Pirate, with the Turtles under their
arms, picked their way through the trees toward the Ark.
As they advanced they could hear sounds as of a vast con-
gregation of creatures, aud at last, when they came to the
edge of the woods, they looked out upon a broad plain, iu the
centre of which rested the huge house-boat that Noah had
constructed. Around it were gathered hundreds and hun-
dreds of animals, aud iu the air above were flying count-
less birds.
"Why, that Ark is just like mine!" exclaimed Tummy,
"only a million times larger." The ex -Pirate looked at
him iu a half-surprised way. but made no reply
•• I guess you can drop us here," then said Tommy's Tur-
tle ; '• and we are ever so much obliged." As soon as the
two creatures had been put down upon the ground again
they scampered off in the direction of the Ark as fast as
their legs would carry them.
•'Now what shall we do?" said Tommy.
"I guess we had better hold a council of war. When
you don't know what to do, always hold a council of war,"
answered the ex-Pirate, aud the two sat down in the shade
of a big oak to consult.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
INTERSCHOEASTIC
WARE HAS TURNED THE TABI.KS ON WHITMAN*. They
met in tlie finals at Newcastle, but it was 6-4, 7-5,
4-6, and 5-7 before the interscholastic cbanipion could
make it 8-6 in the fifth set, and call the tournament liis.
There was good playing that day, and the schools can take
pride in the fact that they are sending new material, and
better, into the tennis ranks this season than has en-
tered for many a year. These new-comers are putting
up a careful, steady game too. The principal failing of
yonug and promising players in former years has been
their inclination to play more for the benefit of the spec-
tators than for the points of the game. But to sacrifice
points for applause is a very evident absurdity, and so I
was glad to see at the Wentworth that most of the men
aimed to put up a steady game.
WARE AND WHITMAN are so nearly even in their play
that it is difficult to determine which is the better man.
Ware no doubt has the greater powers of endurance,
and I should count on him to win more tournaments
in the long-run, but Whitman is certainly strong in
emergencies and steady at critical moments. Ware's best
strokes are his cross-court plays, which I have no doubt
lie will eventually develop to a standard of proficiency
superior to that of any player in the country. He volleys
well, too, and when in back court often puts in some good
smashes. Whitman is clever at a drive, and puts speed
into his strokes, but he has riot the physical development
to stand along match. His game would no doubt be great-
ly improved if be should devote himself during the winter
to general athletic exercise. He smashes well, and is ex-
cellent on volleying. The performance of Beals Wright
at the Weutworth tournament was a surprise to many.
For a fifteen-year-old lad he certainly can play tennis.
Scudder was also on hand, and repeated some of his clever
work at Longwood. He put up even a better game at
Newcastle, defeating Budloug in the second round, but he
succumbed to Ware in the semi-finals.
LEONARD E. WARE.
liibition of particularly fine play. The score seesawed,
until Whitman took the fifth and sixth games, and then
Ware got the next four and the set. But in the second
set there was pretty ten-
nis. Whitman did some _^__^^______^_
clever placing, and
Ware's drives called forth
considerable applause. In
the eighth game there
was an amusing lobbing
contest, which finally
turned to Ware's favor,
and he followed up the
advantage with some
clean passes across that
added the ninth to his
score.
POOR PLAY character-
ized the opening of the
third set, not a point be-
ing earned iu the first
game. Whitman took it,
and Wrare got the second
on his opponent's suc-
cessive outs. Then Ware
came up to the net aud
put in some good strokes ;
but Whitman was steady-
ing down by this time,
aud with some clever
passes aud good volley- s- A SYME.
ing he got his first set.
He took the next one, too,
made lively by sharp work on both sides with many deuce
games and plenty of fierce volleying. Then came the
rubber. Ware was warmed up, and kept driving the ball
at his opponent. Whitman set his hopes on placing, aud
played a careful steady game. AVare took the first two
games, and Whitman got the following three, aud then it
was a seesaw until the twelfth. Deuce was called five
times iu the eleventh game before Whitman could win it.
He was leading, then, 6-5. But AArare quickly brought the
score to games all, and by beaut il'ul placing earned the two
following, the set and the match.
IT IS TO BE REGRETTED that all the interscholastic
cracks will not meet at Newport. Sheldon of Hotchkiss
Academy, wjuner of the Yale iuterscholastic tourney, can-
not be present because he is out West, where In- must stand
again to defend the championship of Ohio, which he won
last year. For a similar reason McMahou, the Brooklyn iu-
terscholastic champion, will be absent. He lias won the
Lelaud House tournament at Schroou Lake for the past
two years, aud if he wins again this summer the Eelaud
House cup is his. That tournament occurs about the same
period as the Newport Intel-scholastic But the schools
will be well represented, nevertheless, and we may look for-
ward to seeing even better tennis this year than at any-
previous iuterscholastic tournament.
ALTHOUGH IT is NOW S.IMI:WIIAI I.ATI. IN mi >i \s.'N
to recur to the spring championship series of baseliall.it
-.•nils advisable to insert tin- result of tin- New England
Intel-scholastic League contest, if oul\ for tin- sake of the
record which it. will serve 'The outcome ofiln- series was
WHITM \N WAS APPARENTLY not in the best of condition not wholly satisfactory, because the Cambridge High and
when he stepped into court for the final match, but he Latin School nine tied llopkinson's for Brs1
warmed up to his work as the games piled up, and showed deciding game was arranged. Had ii been i
good form iu the last three sets. The first offered no ex- meu would doubtless ha\c won
835
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
and in the Held gave excellent support to Stearns, who
VMS one of the best pitchers in the association. The Hop-
kiiisou players were likewise strong at the bat, but prone
to get rattled. The surprise of the season was English
I linh's defeat of the Cambridge team — in a most exciting
contest — after having lost to almost every other nine iu
the league. The scores follow :
April 26.— Hop., 13 ; Som. H., 11.
J/ai/ ].— Hop. ,6; B.L.S.,5 (12 innings).
" 9.— B.L.S., 5; Som. H., 4.
" 10.— Hop., 15; E.H.-S., 14.
" 11.— C.H. and L., 24; R.L.S., 12.
" 16.— E.H.-S., 14; Som. H., 1.
" 17.— C.H. andL., 8; Hop., 5.
" 21.— B.L.S.,8; R.L.S.,6.
" 22.— C.H. and L., 7 ; Som. H., 0.
" 24.— Hop., 19; R.L.S.,13.
" 2r,._ C.H. and L., 17; B.L.S.,0.
" 28.— R.L.S.,5; Som. H., 4.
" 31.— B.L.S., 10; E.H.-S., 5.
June 4.— R.L.S., 15; E.H.-S., 10.
" 7.— E.H.-S..4; C.H. and L.,3.
CANOEING is ABOUT AS GOOD an out-door sport as any
for the month of August, but it is a pastime largely re-
stricted to inland waters. You cau paddle and sail a
canoe along the sea-shore, of course ; but this is dangerous
business for any but the most experienced canoeist, and
thoroughly unadvisable. Canoes were not intended for
rough water. But there is nothing more delightful than
to paddle youiself along a winding stream through the
quiet woods, or sail in your light craft across some, beau-
tiful lake in the mountains. To those who have never
tasted thi.s pleasure it cau truly be recommended. Oue of
the objections to indulging in it, many will say, is the ex-
pense involved in the purchase of a canoe. But this may
be very easily overcome by any one gifted with even the
slightest constructive ingenuity. If you can saw to a line
and plane an edge, and drive a nail, you cau build a canoe
for yourself at very small cost.
THE SIMPLEST KIND OF CANOE is made of canvas, and for
the purpose of a novice in the graceful art of paddling
it is just as serviceable as a more expensive boat. Very
little material is required to construct one, and the cost,
including everything, will not exceed $12. First procure
two strips of pine board 12J feet by 2 inches by J of an
inch; a bunch of oak strips li by i inch, and about 4 feet
long; a bunch of pine strips 13 feet long by l\ by i inch ;
and a piece of spruci; 12 feet long by 2 inches by 1| inch.
Tliis last piece is to be used for the keel, to the ends of
which are fastened the stem and stem posts. These are
both alike, and should be sawed out of a pine plank in
the curved shape displayed in Fig. A. Lay out your curve
on the plank in pencil first, then saw to the line, and level
the edge, so that the prow will slip through the water
easily. Next, saw into both ends of your keel piece, insert
the stem and stern pieces ; then plane the keel piece so that
it will come to a point both forward and aft. Fasten these
uprights to the keel with copper nails or rivets. They
are better than any other kind because they do not rust.
NEXT, LAY OUT A CROSS SECTION of your canoe on
a plank, and saw this out. Your section should be 2 ft. 6
in. across the top, which is the breadth of beam of your
canoe; it should be 24 inches high, which is the depth of
the craft ; and the side lines of the section, which will de-
termine the lines of your canoe, should be gracefully
rounded, so that the boat when finished will appear as iu
Fig. B. Now, then, fasten your section upright on the keel,
and with the bow, the stern, and the breadth of beam thus
M tiled, all you have to do is to nail your two pine strips
(12J ft. by 2 in. by | in.) to the bow and the stern. They
will get. their spread from the mid-section. The skeleton
of the canoe is now complete, and the inside ribs may be
beut on.
IN oKDKit TO MAKE THE OAK sTKirs pliable, boil them in
water until you can twist them into any shape you choose.
Then nail them to the keel at their middle point and to
the gunwale boards above, sawing off the protruding ends.
These strips form the ribs, and when they dry out they
will keep the form they assumed when nailed on. All the
nails should be of copper, and clinched when driven in ;
this is done by holding a flat iron against the points as
they come through. There should be six inches of .spare
between each rib. Next take your thin pine strips, which
are of about the same length as your sheer planks, and
plane them on one side only. These are now fastened to
the ribs lengthwise, the unplaned side out, parallel to the
gunwales, about two inches apart. This brings all the
planking on the outside of the ribs. Be sure to have the
protruding lines (after the canvas is put on) run fore and
aft, and do not forget that the planking is brought down
to a tine point at the stem and stern, and is securely
clinched.
THE CANOE is NOW READT to be decked. Fig. C shows
about where the deck pieces should be fixed to form the
cock -pit. They ought to be inserted about a quarter
length of the boat from each end. The deck beams should
Fio. A.
FIB. B.
FIG. 0.
be of one-inch square spruce, and as soon as they are
clinched in you can saw out your mid-section, which is
now of no further use except as lumber. As such it will
come iu handy for braces, etc. On top of your deck beams
lay the cock-pit combing of 2 in. by } iu. pine, putting iu
braces of triangular-shaped pine underneath as a support
to and from the ribs. After all the ribs are thus securely
fastened, turn your boat bottom upward and lay on the
canvas.
Tins is BY NO MEANS an easy matter, as you will soon
find out, but patience and care will do much toward mak-
ing the undertaking less difficult. Medium-weight sail
duck is a good kind of canvas to get, and second-hand ma-
terial will do, provided it is firm; in fact, weather-beaten
canvas is preferable, as it has a smoother and more pliable
surface. To insure its setting firmly and smoothly make
four gores along the upper edge on each side and sew them
h'rmly. Sponge the canvas off on both sides with water,
and while damp tack it along the gunwale, allowing the
stem and stern-posts to protrude half an inch. Use gal-
vanized iron or copper tacks, and do not be afraid of putting
them too near together. If yon don't use plenty of tacks
there will be danger of a leak. Now turn your boat right
side up again, and as the canvas dries it will tighten and.
set with a firm surface. Have the canoe dry iu the sun if
possible.
BEFORE TACKING ON THE DECK CANVAS, give the inside
aud outside of the hull a liberal coat of a mixture composed
of three-quarters boiled oil to one-quarter raw oil, with
some patent drier. This acts as a filler for the canvas, aud
makes it water-tight. When this has become perfectly
dry, apply two coats of brown ready-mixed paint for the
inside, and two of dark green for the outside. These are
serviceable colors. But before applying the last coat of
paint, put on a gunwale - waring strip of 1-iu. spruce,
and a spruce keel of 1 in. by I iu. As the keel and
waring strips are put on after the canvas has been
painted, they ought to receive two coats of filler and one
of spar varnish. This adds greatly to the appearance of
the canoe. It is not advisable for the novice to attempt to
manufacture his own paddle. It is cheaper iu the end to
buy one, aud a good paddle is to be had for §3.
820
I-IARPEE'S EOUND TABLE
THE TWO SCHOLASTIC KKrr.I'.SEXTATIVES
at tbe Metropolitan championships of the
A. A. II. held in Syracuse \\riv Syme of Bar-
nard Scliool anil lialtazzi of Harvard School.
Syme entered as a member of the New Jer-
sey Athletic Chili, while Baltazzi wore the
winded foot. The latter ilitl not jump to
his usual mark, dropping out at 5 ft. 9 in.
Some excuse fur this may lie that he \\ renched
his ankle at that period of the contest, and
could not do hetter afterwards. But Syme
was iu better fortune. He contested the
low hurdles with Sheldon and Chase, and
won. To he sure, Sheldon fell oil the eighth
obstacle, but Syme breasted the tape never-
theless in 28J sees. It is encouraging for
all lovers of sport to see how the school
athletes — the real representatives of the
younger generation — are getting iu every-
where, aud getting iu with credit to them-
selves. THE GRADUATE.
This Deviurtui^iit i- , ,,n.lu. t.<,l ::, lln- u,K-i~t nf stamp ftnd coi
collector!, and the Edilor »ill b« pleased to answer mij- que.ii™ o
. i-i'U ao far as possible. Curresimudcnta should address EJito
Stamp Department.
Tl^HE rise in value of many scarce stamps
I during the past two years has been
phenomenal. For instance, the £1 brown,
1878 issue, with anchor water-mark, in un-
used condition. Two years ago this stamp
could be bought for §15, whereas the last
copy sold of which I have any record
brought $250. The one shilling 1862, with
white line across the corners of it, un-
used, was catalogued at 650, a little more
than a year ago, but to-day would probably
bring sunn at auction. The eurious thing
about this stamp is that hitherto not a
single copy has beeu found in used condi-
tion. Without the white line this stamp
used is worth fifteen cents, and hundreds
of thousands were sent to this country every
month for three years (1802-65).
THK FINEST AND .MUST complete catalogue
of U.S. stamps from \-^'i'.\ to 1870 has just
beeu published iu England at ten shillings.
The work is illustrated by numerous plates
aud fac-similes, and it takes note of the
most minute varieties. It was written by
Gilbert Harrison, who possessed at the time
of his death the finest collection of U.S.
envelopes ever made.
ACTIVE STEPS HAVE BEEN taken to form
alist of those philatelic pests, "speculative"
issues which threaten to bring stamp-col-
lecting into disrepute. Quite properly the
initial steps have been taken iu London, as
some of the earliest as well as latest offenders
in this respect have been some of the colo-
nies of Great Britain. All the so-called
Chinese local stamps, the San Marino Jubi-
lee, St. Anthony Jubilee of Portugal, as well
as mauy of the surcharged colonial stamps,
should be avoided by every collector. The
money spent o» them is simply thrown
away.
C. A. S.— The 1834 dime is catalogued at 40c., in fine
coudition; 20c., in fair.
M. S. S.— Fifty cents a thousand-
H. F. Coorcit. — Tim Paris and London prinN an-
much HINT I h, i M the lielunuu anil Athens print?. The
same plates being used in both places.
W. T. BLAOKWKI.I. — " Ke->'iiLfraved " stamps mean
tlntM' Mamps of which the original die having been
somewhat worn by llie many transfers, has its lines
deepened. Tlie n-ult i- always a commoner-looking
stamp than the uni_riiial, and it the same ink N ii^'il,
the re-engraved looks much darker and heavier. An
article on the diUt-renl kinds ot pain-i will pi-ohahly
be printed soon.
J. II MUSG.— Probably no j: I'.S. coin was iss I in
1504. The die was prepared but not used. About
fifty years ago the die disappeared from the Mint, but
\\as leturned after an interval of some months. Ever
since that time, at long intervals, one of the coins
comes upon the market. The first one brought $101111,
the last one ahont $500.
A. B. KKTCIIAM.— Always send a 2c. stamp if you
wish an answer, or, still better, a self - addressed
stamped envelope.
PHILATUS.
BOUGHT HIS OWN PUENITUKE.
AN amusing story is told of a gentleman
living in London. As the anecdote
goes, it seems that he had a passion for the
purchase of second-hand furniture at auc-
tions, and that in making "good bargains"
he had filled his house with antiquated and
almoM useless articles. Upon one occasion
his wife took the responsibility, without
consulting her husband, to have a portion
of the least useful of the pieces removed to
an auction-room to be sold. Great was her
dismay when, on the eveuing of the day of
the sale, the majority of the articles came
baek to the house. The husband had stum-
bled into the auction-room, and, not know-
ing his own furniture, had purchased it at a
better bargain than at first.
INDIA-KUBBER BAIT.
ACCORDING to a Troy fisherman, the
latest triumph of Yankee inventive
genius is an India-rubber fish-worm. It is
said to be a remarkably good imitation of
the common earthworm, is indestructible,
aud iu actual use proves as alluring to the
fishes as the genuine article. The old fisher-
man will be quick to see its advantages.
One can equip himself for a day's sport
without digging over a whole garden iu
his search for bait. A handful of India-
rubber worms will last him a whole season,
am! there will be no necessity for pulling
up the lii very ten minutes to see if the
small-fry nibblers have 1,-ft ihe | K hare.
It is possibly hardly necessary to add here
I hal t lie fisherman \\ ho lells of ihis in . n
tion may be like other fishermen, in \\hicli
case the reader need mil be]ie\ e I IH
unless In- wants to.
QTICK WIT.
ACOMl'.nlAX in a French tin-all,
mail-- a ureat hit out of a painful ac-
cident. One day, while indulging in a bit
of horse-play on the staye. he hit his head
violently, entirely an accident, against (I
nf t he pillars of the .scene on the sia;;e. i i] i
hearing the thud everybody uttered a • i
"No great harm d -," said the comedian.
"Just hand me a napkin, a glass of \\ ater.
and a salt cellar." These \\ere brought,
and he sat down, folded ihe napkin in the
form of a bandage, dipped it in the u!a-s,
and emptied the sal I -cellar on the \\ el part.
i I a \ ing thus prepared a compress neeoi <1 1 n^
to prescription, and when everyone ex pee led
he would apply it to his ton-head, he ui ave
ly rose and lied it round the pillar. The
effect of his action was such that everj •
set him down as the readiest and wittiest
man iu his profession.
THE FIEST TELEPHONE.
rpHE .Sheffield Ti /..//•«/,// gives the follow-
.L. ing interesting account of the first tele-
phone of which there is record :
The first telephone that was ever used
was not electrical, nor was it a scientific in-
strument in any sense of the term. A little
more than fifty years ago the employees of
a large manufactory beguiled their leisure
hours by kite living. Kites large and small
went up daily, aud the strife was to see who
could get the largest. The twine that held
them was the thread spun and twisted by
the ladies of the village.
One day to the tail of the largest kiti
attached a kitten, sewed iu a canvas hag.
with a netting over the mouth to give, it
air. When the kite was at its greatest
height, some two hundred feet or more, the
mewing of the Kitten could be distinctly
heard by those holding the string. To the
clearness of tin- atmosphere was attributed
the hearing of the kitten's voice. This is
the first account we remember of speaking
along a line.
.A-DVHJPtXISRIVlKNXS.
Highest of all in Leavening Power. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Powder
ABSOLUTELY PURE
HARPER'S NEW CATALOlil I .
Jily revised, d.issitkd, ami i
by mail to any address on receipt at ten cents.
827
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Bicycle route.
Fair bicycle road
-~+~Railway station.
/*" 'Hill or poor road.
Hotel.
BICYCLING
This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, atni the Editor will be pleased to
answer any question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly
supplied from the official maps and road-books of the League of American Wheelmen. Recog-
nizing the value of the work being done by the L. A. W., the Editor will be pleased to furrish
subscribers with membership blanks and information go far as possible.
IN No. 822, on the map of the city of Philadelphia, the
reader of this Department will notice Woodland Avenue,
running out from Market Street, across the Schnylkill
River, southwest. This is the beginning of the route to
West Chester, a run of about twenty-seven miles. The run
itself may be made both ways, in which case the rider will
have covered fifty-three or fifty-four miles, or it may be
only covered in one direction, and the train from there
taken back to Philadelphia. Starting from the public
buildings, and running westward on Market Street across
the ferry, and thence by a turn to the left down Woodland
Avenue, the rider will find asphalt pavement until he
roaches Baltimore Avenue. Woodland Avenue from here
for a short distance down towards Darby is paved with
Belgian pavement, but it is very rideable, and for the six
and a half miles to Darby is as good a road as it is possible
to find. Running out of Darby, passing the car stables,
the route, a mile and a half, is direct to Lausdowne, -where
the rider crosses the railroad, and makes direct for Haver-
ford. The roads are here macadamized, in the best of con-
dition, and moderately level. On reaching Haverford, the
rider should turn to the left into the West Chester turnpike.
There is a sign here-designating that it is four miles to
Darby. Passing through Manoa, hardly a mile further on,
you continue always on the West Chester turnpike through
Broouiall, two miles; Newtowu Square, two miles and
a half; Edgemont, Willistown, and Milltown, to West
Chester, eleven miles. The road from Manoa to West
Chester is macadamized as far as Newtowu Square. From
this point on to West Chester it is more sandy and more
hilly, and the road is in a much poorer condition ; but by
making a judicious selection of side paths, excepting when
passing through the villages, you will find the road very
rideable. From Newtown Square to West Chester there are
a number of capital coasting hills. The road is straight,
you see the foot of the hill before starting to coast, and the
grade in most cases is long and gradual. In fact, this West
Chester route is famous for its good coasting. On the whole
distance there is but, one doubtful turn, and that is about a
mile out of Newtowu Square going towards West Chester,
when' the rider should take the left fork in the road. The
right fork, as will be noticed on the map, also runs into
West Chester, but the road is much more hilly, and not in
such good condition.
IN GIVING THESE DIFFERENT Tiups in the vicinity of
Philadelphia, or of any other city, it must not be understood
that they are not by any means the only ones, or that the
route really ends at the point designated on the map. The
road beyond West Chester is quite as good riding as between
West Chester and Newtowu Square, but this particular ride
is a very pleasant one, through a pleasant country, and
ends up in an attractive village, where the rider may put
up without discomfort at a good road house — the Green
Tree. This same trip, for example, can be extended from
West Chester to Wilmington. Delaware, which is about
twenty miles further on. The stop is arbitrarily made at
West Chester because that makes a pleasant day's run for
the average rider. Nest week we shall give the first half
of a two-day's run, and theii, before treating of more trips
in the -vicinity of Philadelphia, we shall move from New
York towards Boston, and give a series of trips in the vi-
cinity of Boston itself.
NOTE — Mftp of New YorU city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of
route from New York to Tarry town in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
.
No 818 Hudson to Albany in No. S1S>. Tottenville to Trenton in 820.
Trenton lo Philadelphia in 821. Philadelphia in No. 821. Philadelphia
— Wissahickou Route in No. 822.
Copyright, 1895, by Harper & Brothers.
HAEPEE'S ROUND TABLE
THE DEPTH OF THE SEA.
MALL boys often ask their parents," How
O deep is the sea ?" The answer depends
entirely upon the sea. The following tal'li1.
compiled by one who has investigated, may
help one to the solution of one of the small
boy's problems. Average depth in yards:
Pacific, 4252; Atlantic, 4026 ; Indian, 3658 ;
Antarctic, 3000; Arctic, 1690; Mediterrane-
an, 1476; Irish, 240; English Channel, 110;
Adriatic, 45 ; Baltic, 43.
A SUBMARINE DINNER PARTY.
SOME time ago the labor of deepening the
harbor of Ciotat was completed. To
celebrate the completion of his labor, and to
make the occasion memorable, the contrac-
tor gave to the members of his staff and the
representatives of the press a banquet un-
precedented for its originality. The table
•was set eight metres below the level of the
sea, at the very bottom of the harbor, inside
the " caisson " in which the excavators had
been at work, and only the narrow walls of
this caisson separated the guests from the
enormous mass of water around and above
their heads. The new-fashioned bani|in-t-
iug-hall was splendidly decorated and light-
ed, and hilt for a certain buzzing in the ears,
caused by the pressure of air kept up in the
chamber in order to prevent the inrush of
water, nobody would have suspected that
the slightest interruption in the working
of the air-pump would have sufficed to as-
phyxiate the whole party. After the ban-
quet an improvised concert prolonged the
festivity for several hours, after which the
guests reasceuded into the open air.
A Visit to a Famous Furnace.
Some time ago when I was staying at Lebanon,
Pa., I bad the pleasure of visiting the Colebrook
furnace. This is wbat is called a " blast furnace,"
because the draught for the fires is made artificial-
ly by the forcing iu of a strong current of air. Much
iron is smelted in that region, the ore coming from
the famous Cornwall ore hills near by. The Cole-
brook produces about 175 tons of iron daily.
It was on a hazy June morning that our party
took a new trolley-car that bad been running only
a few days, and after riding a short distance into
the country, alighted quite near the furnace, which
seemed to be composed of a few gray stone build-
ings, and several high red stacks. After passing
over some waste land and a little bnmk we came
to the office, where we inquired whether we had
better have a guide to show us around, or go by
ourselves. A young gentleman who belonged to
the establishment offered to go with us. He was
very kind, explaining everything, and was never
tired of answering questions.
Th«y cast twice a diiy ; there are two furnaces,
one used for the casting in the morning, and the
other iu the afternoon. We began our tour of in-
spection by visiting one of the furnaces. Of course
we found it quite warm near it. When they wished
to see whether the fire was burning all right, they
used to have to open large doors, but now there
are pipes with holes and some kind of glass iu
them that they can look into and see the fire. The
gas that is thrown off by the burning of the coke
and ore is returned to the furnace and used as
fuel, hence there is a great saving of coke.
Next we went to see the "roasters." The ore
has to be roasted before it is put Into the furnace,
to get as much sulphur out of it as possible. After
it comes out of a " roaster," instead of it being of
a gray color, most of it has a reddish tint. After
being roasted and before being put into the fur.
nace limestone is added. There are over twenty
roasters. The next place we visited was callei
"tunnel head"— in plain language, the top of fur-
nace number two. We went up in an open eleva-
tor that quite took one's breath away. At the top
of the furnace is the " bell and hopper," which is a
circular opening with a bell-shaped cover which
keeps iu the gas. In the opening the ore and coke
are put in, then the bell is let down, and the fuel
and ore is dropped into the furnace.
After we came down from the tunnel heml it
was suggested that we should visit the "drawing-
room." I wondered whether a furnace's drawing-
room was like one in a private house, but when we
arrived there I found that it was quite different.
Instead of tables and chairs it contained four en-
gines, each having two fly-wheels about twenty-
two feet in diameter. These engines made the
draught to "draw" the fires, so the place they
were in was called the drawing-room.
To see the "casting" we had some time to wait
after we had completed our tour, baving been al-
most everywhere, except on top of the roasters.
A railroad comes right to the furnace, and while
we were waiting a train of eight cars containing
coke passed by.
At last it was almost ten o'clock, so we drew
near the build>ing where they were to cast. We
could hear and see them opening the furnace-door
to let out the ore and cinders. A locomotive and
several " cinder-tubs," the tubs looking like large
iron pots, were on a track beside the building, the
front tub being under a trough where the cinders
came out. When one tub was full, a man would
hold the cinders back, and the engine would go
forward until another tub was under the trough
Afterward the contents of the tubs were dumped
ou the bank of the stream near the furnace. The
iron and the cinders can easily be separated, as the
iron is heavier and goes to the bottom.
The moulds for the iron are made ou the floor of
the building with sand. The pig-iron is made in
small troughs. In order to keep the metal flowing
in the large troughs, men have to loosen it con-
stantly with long poles. The iron as it comes from
the furnace looks like melted gold.
FLU-SHIM. GRANT KNiUFF.
* * *
Questions anO answers.
Frank Dubois: The ROUND TABLE is to publish,
about August 15th, a handy book which will con-
tain just the information you ask for. Besides
memorandum pages.it will contain lists of words
often misspelled, cost of college courses, values of
the rare stamps, a calendar, and about 1000 other
facts worth knowing. It will be sent free to all
who ask for it. Indeed, copies will be sent for all
members of a Chapter, a class, a school. The book
is yyt by 4 inches, and has thirty-six pages.
Elizabeth A. Hyde, 1458 Euclid Place, N. W. Wash-
ington, D. C., desires to hear from Washington
[Members. Will you send her your name and ad-
dress? Her purpose is to arrange an entertain-
ment iu aid of the School Fund.
THE SECOND SUMMER,
iniiny mothers believe, is the most precarious in a
child's life ; generally it maybe true, but you will find
that mothers and physicians familiar with the value of
the Gail Bordeu Eagle Brand Condensed Milk do not
so regard it. — [Adv.]
ADVERTISEMENTS.
Walter Baker i Go. Limited,
The Largest Manufacturer, of
PURE, HIGH GRADE
COCOAS ^ CHOCOLATES
On thil Continent, have receiv.d
HIGHEST AWARDS
from the great
Industrial and Food
EXPOSITIONS
IN EUROPTANDJMERICA.
-Caution : n?anyieTrniuftiunt
of the labels and wrapper! on our
ithat our place of manufacture,
namely. Dorehenter, 3L :»»•.
it printed on each package.
SOLD BY GROCERS EVERYWHERE.
WALTER BAKER & GO. LTD. DORCHESTER, MASS.
C\J Co
Ladies' Fine Cheviot
and Chambray
SHIRT WAISTS
$1.00 and $1.50 each;
Reduced from $2.75.
u
J
91 &
NEW YORK.
Stamps,
UNEQUALLED
COLUMBIA
BICYCLE
100 all dif. Venezuela, Costa Rica, etc., only
IQc, ; 200 all dif. Hay ti, Hawaii, etc., on lySOc,
Ag'LSwautedatMpercf com. I,i-i KKKE!
C.A.Stegniui u,2722 EadsAv.,St.Loais,Mo.
I ROO line mixed Victoria, Cape of G.
1 ! K.,Iiidta. Japan, etc., with fine Stamp
"ly JO*-. N <-•><•• Bo-p, riiLC.li>-! !>,•«•-
._ .janlfd &t f.O% commission. STANDARD
f STAMP Co.. 4 XL IH.K..II Place. St. Louis, Mo. Old
U. S. and Confederate Stamps bouyht.
m?m pERioDicE
Her Vear:
HARPER'S MAOAZINK I'oMaiit Fi .'. , 1 1 00
HARPER'S WEElvLY
HARPER'S HA/.AH
HARPER'S ROl'ND TABLE
r,, PoatTiuUtera tlAliaftl r *i<^rri;>-
pttonn *'»' <<ir,',-t f" ft> '
, "f llrnft.
BAUl'EK & BROTHERS. Franklin Squarr. X. V,
829
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Mr. Kirk Munroe to the Round Table Order.
My Dear Fetlew-membera of the Round Table:
1 have just returued from a visit that I wish every
one of yon might have mnde with me. It was to the
G.IOI. Wu.i, FAUM away down in the State of Maine.
Tliere I spent two happy days, and from there I have
come nway tilled with enthusiasm for the most
splendid charity of which I have any knowledge. If
you could only see what I have seen, and hear what I
have heard, that manual training-school that we are
proposing to build for the Good Will boys some time
would long since have been built and iu active oper-
ation. As you can't see it, and probably know just
as little about it as I did before going there, which
was practically nothing at all, I am going to try and
give you a slight idea of what the GOOD WILL FARM
is, and what it is doing.
The man who conceived the idea of GOOD WILL
FARM, and has made it his life-work, is the Rev. G.
W. Hinckley, a splendid, manly, whole-souled Chris-
tian, who when he was a boy had as a playmate
the son of a very poor widow. This woman went
a\v;iy from home every day to work after giving her
boy his breakfast. Then she locked the house, and
left the boy to shift for himself outside until she came
home at night and prepared the second and only oth-
er meal of the day. Between those two meals the
boy used to get awfully hungry, and one day he was
caught with his hand in a workman's dinner pail.
For this he was sent to a State reform school, from
which he emerged three years later a thorough-going
young criminal, ruined tor life iu body and mind.
Distressed at the sad fate of his young playmate, Mr.
Hinckiey then and there declared his intention of de-
voting all the energies of his life to the saving of des-
titute boys from reform schools. By years of hard
work he laid np $2000, with which, less than six years
ago, he purchased a farm of 240 acres on the upper
Kennebec River in Maine, about midway between the
cities of Waterville and Skowhegau. Here, in an
old farm-house, -he began his work with three boys.
He had no source of income, and the work is carried
on entirely by voluntary subscriptions. These come
from everywhere, and generally from straugers, of
whom Mr. Hinckley has had no previous knowledge.
To-day Goon WILL FARM owns, besides the original
farm-house, which lias been wholly rebuilt, five hand-
some cottages, each in charge of a matron, and in
each of which fifteen boys between eight and sixteen
years of age find a comfortable, happy home. There
are now seventy -six boys, most of them orphans,
many without a relative in the world, and nearly all
of them of American parentage, living, working, and
growing up to a useful manhood amid the splendid in-
fluences of this farm. Each of the cottages in, which
these boys live has cost $3000, and has been present-
ed as a free gift to the farm either by individuals or
by societies, such as the Christian Endeavor Society
of Maine, who presented the one that is named after
it, and iu which I was lodged.
Beside these cottages there is a splendid brick
school building that cost S20,000, which was present-
ed by two Maiue ladies as a memorial to their brother.
The farm needs more cottages, many more of them,
for Mr. Hinckley has been obliged to refuse nearly
700 applications for admission to GOOD WILL this
year for lack of accommodations. It also needs a
manual training-school, and needs it very much in-
deed. We, the Kuights and Ladies of the Round Ta-
ble, promised, more than two years ago, to build that
school for them; but we haven't done it yet, and
when visitors to the farm ask to be shown the Round
Table building they are led to a most beautiful site,
on which rest two great piles of stone, hauled there
for the foundations. They are told that here is where
the school will stand whenever the young Knights
and Ladies get ready to build it ; and Mr. Hinckley
always adds, "They are certain to do it, for they have
promised, and I have never yet been disappointed iu
any promise mnde iu connection with this work."
It made me feel awfully ashamed to think that we
made that promise two years ago and had not fulfilled
it yet. How do you feel aboui it ?
All the work of the farm is done by the boys them-
selves. They chop wood, and fetch water, and plough,
and make liny, and bake all the. bread, and wait on
table, and sweep, and do a thousand other things, be-
sides having regular study hours aud drills. In addi-
tion to all this they somehow Mud time to attend to
their own little private gardens — the produce of which,
is bought by the Farm at the regular market price-
to pl.iy ball, go in swimming, build "Cubbies" or
cubby houses down by the river out of hits of refuse
lumber, aud do almost everything else that hearty,
happy boys rind to do iu the country.
The most striking features of the farm are the utter
absence of profanity or even vulgar language, for I
did not hear a word while there that could not have
been uttered with perfect propriety in a Sunday-
school ; the prompt obedience to orders; the happy,
homelike air pervading the whole farm, and Mr.
Hinckley's infinite patience in dealing with the boys.
He is always ready to listen to them, always ready to
advise them, and is always interested in their most
trivial affairs. As he says, "If I encourage them to
come to me freely with their little perplexities, they
will come to me for advice concerning their greater
affairs later on."
One boy is kept at the farm by an Odd Fellows
Association, of which his father was a member, and
who have pledged $100 per year for his support until
he is fitted to care for himself. The head waiter of
the dining-room, a merry-faced, curly-headed, sixteen-
year-old chap, is to be sent through Bowdoin by this
year's graduating class of that college; while this
year's class of Colby has promised to send another
Good Will boy through that university.
Many of the boys don't want to go to college, but are
very anxious to learn trades. The present facilities
for teaching them are two carpenter benches and a
few tools, all huddled iuto one little room in the <ild
farm-house. Now dou't you think this is a splendid
charity, and that those boys need that manual train-
ing-school, aud that it is a fine thing for us to work
for? I do; though I must confess that I wasn't very
greatly interested before I went there. But that was
because I didn't know about it, and the reason the
school building that we promised isu't occupying the
lovely site set apart for it is because yon haven't
really known about it. But now you know about, it,
for I have been there and have told you something of
what I saw ; and I feel certain that you will believe
that all I have said is true. So now we will go to
work and build that school, won't we ? Do you know
that even five cents apiece from each Knight and Lady
of the Round Table would do it ? Who will follow me
if I head a— let me say, ten-cent subscription list for
the GOOD WILL FARM INDUSTRIAL SOIIOOL? I am sure
every member of all the " K. M." chapters will, and I
am almost certain that every member of our splendid
order of modern chivalry will. At any rate, I am going
to try it, aud shall enclose a dime iu this very letter
to Messrs. Harper »fc Bros. Next summer I want to
go agaiu to GOOD WILL FARM ; but I shall not unless
that school building is ready for dedication. In the
mean time, I lemaiu to all the Kuights and Ladies of
the Round Table, their loving friend aud fellow-mem-
ber,
Kutii MUNKOB.
The "Do- Without" Society.
.Should one ask which has been the most heroic
age of the world we believe that the right an-
swer would be " the nineteenth century." In past
centuries a few were imbued with the spirit of
self-sacrifice. To-day this spirit is manifest in
nearly every life. Everybody seems to be trying
to help somebody else — to lift those just below
them to a higher plane of living aud of thinking.
It is said that the oldest book in existence is one
devoted to a harangue on the evils of the time,
and a longing for the good old times. Doubtless
the last book that will ever be written will be in
the same vein. But for all that the world is grow-
ing better.
During the last dozen years there have been
many efforts made to urge people to indulge in
certain little self-sacrifices of their own choosing
in order to save money for charity. Special soci-
eties have been formed with this end in view.
Large societies have inaugurated annual self-de-
nial weeks, and have sent out envelopes in which
the self-denial money was placed. The returns
from the small collections have massed enormous
sums.
A story issued iu the interest of this feature of
charity tells how a little girl, because of her pov-
erty, had nothing to give up for the sake of another,
830
so she decided to sell her pet dog, that she might
have an offering. The ways in which " do-without
money "is obtained are many. Some go without
certain articles of food. Others walk instead of
ride in the street cars. Entertainments and ex-
cursions are given up and their cost duly noted.
* * *
A Suggestion and a Promise.
P. E. Hawkins writing from Taunton, Mass., tells
how to cure skins— information we have printed
from other sources, but we had not done so when
he wrote— and adds:
" A pretty mat for a lamp or ash-receiver can be
made by cutting the skin its entire length on the
lower side of the animal. Then cut felt or cloth
after the shape of the skin but larger, and sew the
skiu to it. The mat will be prettier if the felt or
cloth be scalloped or 'pinked.' Any bright color
will do. May write again describing the method
of catching herring iu the Taunton River, and the
way the fish get above the East Taunton darn."
Let us have the herring morsel. Thanks.
The Fun of the Amateur Editor.
In answer to your request in your issue of June
llth, I write to tell you that I do not hire my paper
printed as the other correspondent does. The
name of my paper is Our Young People, and the
printing on each of its four pages measures five by
six. slightly larger than the Amateur Collector. Our
Young People is eleven by eight when open. As we
print it ourselves it does not cost much actual
nionry. but it does cost quite a good deal of work.
Our press has a five by eight chase— that is, it
can print about five by seven. Our outfit cost six-
ty dollars in the first place ; but this once bought,
it does not cost much money to keep the paper
running. At first it may be harder work to print
one's own paper than to hire it printed, but in the
course of a few months one gets used to the work,
and it is easy to get out an edition. You save the
money you would have had to pay the printer if
you hired it done. But of course there are many
difficulties where one prints his own paper.
I find that I am much hampered for type. Al-
though there is plenty of body type, I do not have
.-in. ugh varieties to print advertisements, small
Land-bills, etc., very well. Many a time I have
spilled, or " pied " the printers say, something after
I have had it all set up. But nowadays this does
not happen as often as it used to. These are sam-
ples of our difficulties, but I have said nothing
about the pleasures aud fun which far outnumber
the difficulties. So I am not sorry for having tried
to become an editor in a small way. I would be
glad to exchange Our Young People with other ama-
teur papers, and to send a sample copy to any one
who wants it. CLEMENT F. ROBINSON,
BEUNSWICK, Ms. Editor of Our Young People.
Sir Clement wants to belong to the New England
Amateur Press Association. Will the secretary of
that association kindly send him particulars?
Childish Wisdom.
A boy of three was in the garden. Going up to
a rose-bush he exclaimed, "Oh, grandma, iliese
flowers have teeth !" L. L V.
NEW HAVIN.
<.<><*!» WILL, »llll
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL FUND
Amount, $.
•ntributfd, net because it is asked fur, Irut titcuti
I want to give it.
If you use this Good Will Mite, simply pin it to your letter,
in order that it may be detached for tilinir. If the" amount is
L'tven hy more than one contributor. .iiM M ml.- l<.r lljeir names,
but attach tbe added sbeet firmly to tlie Mite, that it iniiy not
become detached and lost. Include a given name ill each 'case,
and write plainly, to avoid errors on the Honor Roll.
HARPER'S ROUND TAJ5LE
More About Von Biilow.
Von Bfllow had a continual headache, and that
was sufficient excuse for liis irritability. After his
death, in accordance with his wishes, an autopsy
was made, and it was found that, a displaced bone
pressed against his brain, and this was the cause
nf his trouble. But Von Bulow as a conductor
u:lx supremely great. His stronghold was as a
Beethoven conductor, and he considered Ilfi'thci-
ven the greatest composer. He said that the Nint h
Symphony could not be appreciated in one hear-
ing, so he played it twice at a certain concert.
Needless to say the hall was almost empty during
the repetition.
He did a similar thing once at another time with
a composition of Brahms. His great mentality
made him an ardent admirer of Brahms; and on
this occasion the people were not all enthusiastic,
upon which Von Bulow turned to the audience and
said, sharply, " Whatl you do not like it? I shall
make you like it I" And he immediately had the
whole piece repeated, to the dismay of the audi-
ence. After that lesson the people applauded
loudly whenever a Brahms piece was played. I
winder if Dr. Holmes would not have classed Von
Bulow among the men who have "squinting
brains, "as he calls them?
Von Biilow could not endure having any one
pivi-ent at his rehearsals, though it is said that peo-
pli- \\.mld be willing to risk a good deal for that
enjoyment. A very good story is told on this sub-
ject about a few ladies who once gained access to
the hall just before the rehearsal was to begin.
Vou Biilow saw them, of course— for he wanted to
see everything that was to be seen. and also wh:it.
was not to be seen— and he determined to get them
away without speaking to them. So he sad I to
the orchestra, " We will commence to-day by prac-
tising the bassoons." Thirty-two burs rest to be-
gin with, during which Von Bulow beat time un-
flinchingly— then a snort here, and a snort there,
for a little while — then sixty-four bars rest — then a
repeat — but the would-be auditors of the rehearsal
had made their exit. 1
At a certain concert the audience was very en-
thusiastic over a Meyerbeer March, I think it was,
which his orchestra had just played, and which
Von liaison, director for the opera, had also re-
cently played. Seeing the immense excitement,
he turned and said. "No wonder you like it after
hearing it at the circus which Von Halson runs."
Some time after came the memorial concert for
Vou Halson. The conductor, fearing that there
might be some trouble, said he would not have
Von Biilow in the house. So he gave all the ushers
portraits of Von Bulow, and told them to turn him
out of the hall. It was done; but Von Biilow
knew well his own favoritism, and the next day
took a clever revenge, which rather turned the
tables. He was to play the piano at a concert, and
f.»r i ine of his selections he chose a popular air of
Mozart, the words of which happened to fit the oc-
casion, and played variations to it. The house of
course saw the joke, and there was an immense
round of laughter and applause.
Von Biilow was once playing an accompaniment
for a certain singer. She had sung but a few
phrases, when Von Bulow's admiration and emo-
tion were excited to their fullest extent ; and he
was then prompted to do a strange thing. Rising
from his seat, he pushed the stool aside, and kneel-
ing down before the instrument, he finished the ac-
companiment in that position, saying that, he could
not accompany such a voice except on his knees.
Do we not love Vou Biilow the better for this?
MABIE THEUESE BERQE.
NEW YORK CITY.
Did You Find that Verse ?
Did you find the verse by Alice Cary in that travel
story by Miss Denton? Here it is;
"True worth is in being, not seeming,
In doing each day that goes by
Some little good, not in dreaming
Of great things to do by-and-by."
The capitals in the story, arranged in regular
order, spell it.
IVORY 5 CAP
PURE
Keep the refrigerator clean. Use hot water, a cake of Ivory Soap
(it leaves no odor) and a clean scrubbing brush; scrub the sides,
corners, racks, outlet pipe and drip cup; rinse with cold water and
wipe dry.
THE PROCTER & GAMBLE Co.. OIN'TI.
OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT ofth° JwaTd
CILLOTT'S PENS tit the CHICAGO EXPOSITION.
*AtVAKI>: "For excellence of steel used in their
manufacture, it being fine grained and elastic ; super-
ior workmanship, especially shown by the careful
grinding whlcb leaves the pens free from defects. The
tempering is excellent anil the action of thf finished
pens perfect." (Signed) FRANZ VOGT,
iH. I. KIMBALL, IndividualJudae,
approved:-^ Pres't Departmental Committee.
(JOHN BOYD THACHER,
Chairman Exec, Com. on Atcards.
SEND for Catalogue of
ill" Musical Iiistru-
nifiit V"ii think of buying.
Violins r«-i»air«'<l l'\ tin-
t'l-i'iMoiKi Systt-m. <•. STiHiY.
2G < Vntnil St.. Huston. Mass.
EARN A TRICYCLE!
Wewiah to introduce onr
'l'.'a-. S|.|r, -.. ui. i |-..lkllltf
Pmvilri. St.- II ;aj lljs.and
we will give you a Fairy
Tricycle ; sell -j5 II.-. for
aSoildSil
Chain ; f-Hh- t
Watchauilt bain;751bs.
for a Bicycle ; m !!>--
for u Beautiful •
Ring. Express pr.-it:nii
It i';tsh i^ ^fn t lor KOI «ls.
Write tni caUi
r >heet.
w. G. BAKER,
SPRINGFIELD, MASS.
WONT)ER CABI!fET FREE. »""imt UDk
P>»«l?, I>«U'« B..IU*. I'oScl C»mcr». UU.I
W[r.- I'unlc, Spook Photos. Book Of Sleictitof
Hand, Total Value GOc. Scot free with imcj*r.">
cftUloeuouf KKM.I B»rp"n«fof I'T fi.rro-Ucc.
[NG] RS01 L&BRO r > Y
Harper's Young People Series
Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25 each:
The Mystery of Abel Forefinger. By
WILLIAM DKYSDALE.
Raftmates. — Canoemates. — Campmates.
By KIRK MUNROE.
Young Lucretia, and Other Stories. By
MARY E. WII.KINS.
A Boy's Town. By W. D. HOWELLS.
Diego Piiizou. By J. R. CORYELL.
The Moon Prince, and Other Nabobs.
By R. K, Mr.NKrniui K.
The Midnight Warning, and Other Sto-
ries. By E. II. II< 'i i .
Phil and the Baby, and False Witness.
By I.i-i'Y C. LlLLIE.
Flying Hill Farm. — The Mate of the
"Mary Anne." By SMTHIE S\\i i i.
Illustrated. Square 16mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 00 each:
Wakulla. — The Flamingo Feather. -
Derrick Sterling. — Chrystal, Jack &
Co., and Delta Bixby. — Dorymates.
By KIRK MUNKOE.
The Talking Leaves.— Two Arrows.—
The Red Mustang. By \V. O. STODDARD.
Prince Lazybones, and Other Stories.
By Mrs. W. J. HAYS.
The Ice Queen. By ERNEST INGERSOLI..
Uncle Peter's Trust. By GEOROF. B.
PERRY.
The Adventures of Jimmy Brown.— The
Cruise of the Canoe Club.— The Cruise
of the "Ghost."— The Moral Pirates.
The New Robiusou Crusoe. By \V. L.
ALDEN.
Toby Tyler. — Mr. Stubbs's Brother. Tim
and Tip.— Left Behind. — Raising the
"Pearl. "—Silent Pete. By J \MI - OTIS.
The Four Macm'cols. l!>
The Lost City. — Into Unknown Seas.
|:\ 1 1 u'ln KEK.
The Story of Music and Musicians. — Jo's
Opportunity. — Rolf House. — Mildred's
Bargain, and Other Stories. — Nan. —
The Colonel's Money. —The Household
of Glen Holly. I'y lr< \ C. I.II.L.IE.
Who Was Paul Grayson ? !'•>
II \l.l . RTON.
Captain Polly. I'.y Snrim SWETT.
Strange Stories from History. I
>
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York
The above works are for sa
fn-j\ •
831
I
IV
v
A SWIMMING LESSON.
WISE CHILD.
"PAPA, I know why Napoleon needed to sleep only four
hours every night."
"Why, my soiif"
" Because he took a Xap everywhere he went."
A DISTRICT school teacher in New Hampshire has had
great difficulty in explaining adverbs to a class of children.
After toiling faithfully with them, he said : " Bring in a list
of adverbs to-nn>rro\v. Remember that a great many ad-
verbs ends in ly."
The next day one boy's list began : Slowly, fastly, lily,
emily !
MAMMA labelled her jars of sweets,
"Put up by Mrs. Kay";
Later it read upon those meats,
"Put down by Tommy Jay."
A PUZZLER.
Mits. TEECHUM. "That small engine pounding away in
the corner, Toby, is called a donkey-engine."
TOBY. " And yet the engineer says it works with a four-
horse-power. That's funny, isn't it?"
AT THE ZOO.
BERTIE. " You say that is the bird of freedom, mamma f "
MAMMA. " Yes, Bertie."
BEKTIE. " Then why is it in a cage ?"
" MAMMA, where do eggs come from ?"
" Chickens, my dear."
" Well, that's funny. Papa says that chickens come from
eggs."
CHARLES MATHKWS, the celebrated English comedian,
was probably one of the best mimics the world ever pro-
duced. Born June 28, 1776, after a successful career he
died 011 the same date, 1835, fifty-nine years later.
One of his favorite amusements was that of mimicking
children. One day in Suffolk, England, he walked up to a
group of boys all about eight years of age, who were playing
marbles, and adopting their actions and tone of voice, he
asked permission to join in the game. They were, of course,
rather startled at this big lad, and stared at him in silence.
However, everything he did was so like themselves that a
little 'fellow in the party cried out, " I say, fellows, what's
the harm; let him play;" and then turning to Mathews
asked him, " Have you got auy marbles?"
" No," said Mathews, " but I've got a penny."
" Well, then, you can buy some of ours," which he did,
and then knuckled down and proceeded to play.
The boys by this time had ceased to regard him as other
than one of themselves, never entertaining the slightest sus-
picion that it was the celebrated comedian they had among
them.
In a short time he squabbled with the hoys, and the talk
was something like the following:
" You, Bill Atkins ! I say you've no right to that."
" I have," said Bill.
"I say you haven't!"
" I say I have."
"Ah! you cheat! I won't play with you uo more."
This shortly led to a quarrel, and taking off his coat
Mathews offered to fight any of the boys. One of the little
fellows immediately threw his coat and hat on the ground,
and squaring up to the big fellow, urged him to come on.
Mathews got out of the row by giving his adversary the
marbles he had won, thus restoring good humor, aud he left
the scene, delighted with the amusement he had received
from it, although retaining his mimicry to the end by call-
iug out as he quitted them, '• I ninst go to my ma."
832
=^ '=^^=— ; r^^L
HARPE __
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, by HABPRB 4 BEOTBIES. All Rlgbla Reserve.!.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 825.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY. AUGUST 20, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YB4R.
BRADDY'S BROTHER.
BY JULIANA CONOVER.
T was the ending of the ninth inn-
ing; the score stood H to 7 in
Princeton's favor, lint Harvard had
only one man out, and the ININC^
were full.
Was it any wonder that the
Freshmen couldn't keep their
seats, and that the very air seemed
to hold its lu-ealli while liradtield,
'98, twisted the Imll .'
lu the centre of the grand stand.
where the orauge and black was thickest, but Hie enthu-
siasm more controlled, stood .a boy, his whole body quiver-
lug with nervous excitement, liis eyes glued — as were all
others — to the pitcher's box.
"Come in, now! look out! lead off!" the Harvard roach
\\as sa\ iny. as the, umpire's •• one strike, two balls, two
strikes, three halls," raised and da>hetl ;ii4:nii ilu :
of Princeton. Then came a moment of horrible nerve-
destroying suspense, and then the umpire's ealm and .judi-
cial— "striker out."
Above the el rs. which literally tore the air. the shrill
discordant noii- of the bo\ 's \oiee eoiihl In' ueard, yelling
like mad for Princeton anil '!K
"\Vhoisthat little fellow f" said a girl jusl behind him
to her companion. Tin1 boy turned like a llasli.
"I'm Hradily's brother." he said, his chest still hc:i\iiig,
and his cheek gluwin^. " I le's si ruck out seven men !"
The girl smiled, and an upper classman. « ho \\ as next to
him, patted him on the back.
HARPER'S 'ROUND TABLE
" ll's ;i proud day for Bradely's breithe-r," he said, "and
(m';H and Princeton, that is, if Harvard doesn't — " For a
m on i< -lit ii hioked as if Harvard would, for the regular thud
e.l'the- ball against the catcher's glove was interrupted by
I he ominous crack of the bat, and the men on liases ran
for their lives on the bare chance of a hit, or possibly an
error.
But, '9rt was not going to let a hard-earned victory slip
between her lingers like that ; the short-stop fielded the
swift grounder beautifully, and the rim nor was out at
first.
There was a short cheer, then a long wordless, formless
burst, of triumph swelling out from a hundred throats.
The crowd swarmed on the diamond, the Freshman nine
was picked up and carried off the field, " B ruddy " riding ou
the crest of a dangerous-looking wave which was formed
by a seething, howling mob.
" Well," said the Senior, turning to his small neighbor,
'•bow does 'Braddy's brother' feel now?"
But " Braddy's brother's " feelings were too deep for ut-
terance ; besides, he was trying to remember just how many
times the Princeton Freshmen had won from Harvard in
the last six years.
"Hullo, Dave! Dave Hunter!" called Bradfield, as a
small boy passed near the group ou the front campus.
" Dou't you want to take my brother off for a little while,
and show him the town ?"
Dave came up blushing with pleasure at having the man
who bad just pitched a winning game single him out.
"This is Dave Hunter, a special friend of mine, Bing,"
I '.raddy continued, turning to the little chap who was lying
stretched out on the grass beside him, and who felt by this
time as if he owned the whole campus and all the college
buildings, for hadn't he been in the athletic club-house, the-
cage, and tin' 'gym.' .' and wasn't lie actually going to eat
at a Freshman club, and sleep up in a college room? It
was the greatest day of his life, his lirst taste of inde-
pendence': and the glory of being "Braddy's brother"
seemed lo him beyond compare.
••I'on't keep him too long, Dave." said Bradfield, as the
two boys stalled off; "we'll have to get through dinner
early if we. want to hear the Seniors sing."
Young Bingham Bradlield nodded and blushed and smiled
all the way down to the gate, as men in the different groups
which they passed called out:
"There goes 'Braddy's brother,' " or, "Hullo. little-
Brad," or, " What's the matter with 'lh- ?" and one who knew
him at home sang out, " B-I-N-G-O — B'nujo '." It was awful-
ly e\eiiing.
"They're going to have a fire to-night," Dave said, as
ih.\ walked ii]i Nassau Street. "I heard some of the
Freshmen sa\ thai they would begin and collect the wood
as soon as it was dark.''
•• Where do ihcy get. it?'' asked Biiighani.
" Oil,, j nst take it," Dave answered, carelessly. "They lake
fences and gates, and boards and barrels, and, oh, anything
they can find. That would be a elamK one," pointing to a
half-broken-down rail fence which divided an orchard from
a newly opened road.
"It wouldn't let any cows or horses out, you see. They
stole our barn gate once, and the horses got loose on the
front lawn and tore up all the grass. We didn't mind,
though," with true college spirit, "for we'd beaten Yale."
"Yale Freshmen .'"eagerly.
" No," with great ..scorn ; •• the 'Varsity. Nobody's much
stuck on Freshmen in Princeton," he continued, "except,
of course, your brother. lie's great ; he'll make the 'Varsity
next year, sure.'1
Bingo's feelings were southed. Hi thought all the Fresh-
men " great," bin was satisfied if others only appreciated
Braddy.
They grew very chummy, the two boys, and Braddy's
brother had learned a great deal about college life by the
time he was brought back to the campus.
It was in the middle of >. nim- singing, when the shadows
from the tall old elms were being .•swallowed up in the
gathering darkness, and the groups in white duck trousers
scattered about the grass were beginning to be indistiu-
gm>hablc.t hat slim figures were seen hurrying mysteriously
to and fro, and the peace of the- evening was rudely broken
into by the preparations for a "Freshman tire."
The victory had already beeu celebrated on Old North
steps, for had not Bingo himself heard the Seniors sing, as
an encore to a favorite scdo. these never-to-be-forgotten
lines, composed for the occasion :
"The Freshmen nine came from Harvard for to show
How they played the game of ball;
Bui found when Bradfield got in his finest curves
They couldn't hit the ball at all.
The game stood in our favor 8 to 7
When they came to the bat once more.
Their Captain said, ' 'Tis the ending of the flth,
We've got to tie the score.'
C/iorus. — Then when he saw the bases full
His sides with laughter shook.
But when lie heard the umpire shout
'Two strikes' — then 'striker out!'
He wore a worried look —
He wore a worried look."
That brought even a finer glow to the boy's cheek than
when the familiar "Bingo! Bingo! Bingo! — 'way down on
the Bingo farm!" had drawn the attention of his brother's
friends to him, and made him feel for a moment as though
he were a college hero.
The singing had ceased with "Old Nassau," and the
campus was alive now with hnrr\ ing groups. The usual
night cries filled the air: " Hullo, Billy Apjdetou !" " Hullo,
Benny Butler!" " Come over here!" "See you later,"
etc., and the Freshmen were shouting and rushing wildly
about. "Where's Porter?" " Where's Tommy ?'•' "Where's
Dad.'" was heard on all sides. "'93 this way, '9^ this
way!"
•- Mick to me, Bing," said Braddy, as he started over to
his room in Witherspoon; "stick close to me, or you'll
surely get lost."
"We haven't half enough wood, Park," said a '9* man.
coming up to tin' class president, who was standing near
Bradfield: "it won't make any sort of a fire."
"Can't yon get morel' We must have a good one," an-
swered Porter. "(Jet a fence, or a house — any old thing
will do. l'\e got to find li'nnt and Bunny now, and see
about a wagon for Hie nine. Will meet you later."
"Come on. Bingo, ".said Braddy.
He'. Bradeh . ought not to stay round and hear all the
arrangements for a celebration which was to be in his
honor. The nine' was supposed to keep modestly out of
the way. and know nothing whatever about it.
" ( 'oine on, Bing !"
But Bingo didn't "come ou," be has business of his own
to transact. The- Freshman fire, his first fire, must be a
success, and he knew when' a good fence was. Quick as
thought he dropped behind his brother, and was soon lost
in the crowd, then he made a break for the street. At the
corner he met Dave Hunter.
" Hullo ! where you going ?"
It was a secret, but he told, and Dave, like "Ducky
Daddies," " Cocky-locky," etc., in the old Grimm fairy-tale
of Hcnny-Pcniiy, said, "Then I'll go too."
It was a full hour later, and the Freshmen were crowding
about the old cannon, round which a pile of boards, fence
rails, barrels, etc., were stacked, all ready to light. The
resources of the town had beeu about exhausted, and the
raiders were returned "bringing their sheaves with them."
Homan candles and fire-crackers still went off at intei \al-
in different parts of the campus, but they were only a side-
issue, the fire was the real business of the evening. The
college was there almost to a man, and the cheering for
and by '98 was "frequent and painful and free," or would
be to one whose nerves wen- be-low par; to a health\ en-
thusiast it was soul-stirring and exhilarating.
Even the upper classmen added their thundeT from well-
trained iron lungs when the old wagon containing the vic-
torious nine came up, dragged by a lot of wild, reckless,
834
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
muscular Freshmen. Only true heroes could so calmly have
imperilled their lives, for these bold young spirits were
actually standing up and singing, as i In- « au.ui lurched and
pitched and wobbled over curbstones, and down into MJH-
ters, and up agaiu. But fortune favors t he brave, and t hey
reached the tire without a siugle accident, and were halted
at the cannon's mouth in the front row. Everything was
ready, yet there seemed to be some hitch. The crowd
began to get impatient.
"What's the matter?" they cried. "Why don't you
light her ii|> .'"
" We're wailing for Braddy," came back the answer.
"Where is he?''
"Give it up."
"He's hunting his brother." said one. "He's down ou
the Bingo farm," cried another.
This was rather "fresh," but there was a general laugh,
which turned into a cheer as Braddy, wearing a worried
look, pushed his way through the crowd.
" I can't Hud the kid," he said, anxiously.
"Oh, he will turn up all right,'1 said the others; "he's
sure to come to the tire. Brace up and light her, Jen-
nings."
Just t lien I here was a shout from behind, and the closely
packed mass opened up to let a fence come in, which
two small Unshed and panting boys were dragging after
them.
" Great Scott, it's Braddy's brother!" said the Senior who
had sat next to him at the game. "Where, in the world
did you get all that fence, and how did you manage to drag
it here .'"
Bingo was far too breathless to answer, but Dave spoke
up.
"A lot of fellows helped us," he said. "We brought it
round a back way, but Brad and I brought it through the
campus alone."
" Give them a cheer, fellows," cried the Senior, " and start
the tire."
" Here's to Braddy's brother," sang the Freshmen, as they
threw the lighted matches into the pile, "drink her down!
Here's to Braddy's brother, and— -
" Dave Hunter!" shouted Bingo, who had found his voice.
" — and Dave Hunter lie's the other; drink; her down,
drink her down, drink her down, down, down!" etc., ending
up with a rousing B-I-N-G-O — J-liiii/n.'
Then the fire began to crackle and si/zle and blaze up
and roar, and the Freshmen cheered and sang and shouted,
and the bright light revealed groups of girls with brothers
and friends who had come to see the celebration, and myri-
ads of small boys who had come to see the fun.
It was a beautiful sight. The wood had been piled up
in pyramid form, and the flames rose red aud yellow almost
to the tops of the tall elms, those still sentries of the
campus. How it spluttered aud hissed and crashed and
roared ! and not eveu the Freshmen could drown the mighty
voice, which spoke in so many different tongues, though
they did their best; and as Braddy's brother, standing near
the wagon which held the nine, watched the shooting,
dancing, devouring flames his heart thumped so that it al-
most broke out of bounds, aud he drew long, very long
breaths.
The tire had died down .somewhat, the cheering was more
spasmodic aud subdued, the time for speeches had come.
Every one crowded closer, aud the wagon, not the burning
pile, became the centre of attention.
••Speech! speech!" cried ''J8. •• A speech, Braddy."
Bradlicld was not only the pitcher, but the Captain of
the Freshman nine. So they forced him upon the high seat,
and yelled for quiet. Braddy looked down upon the densely
packed mass, hushed for the moment into something like
si illness, and his nerve completely deserted him. There he
stood, fair and boyish, a target for all eyes, hut he could not
SM\ a word, lie opened his n th, he even gestured, bul
no sound came. It was a ease of pure stage-fright, and the
awkwardness increase. 1 \\ilh every second. " Fellows," ho
managed to si a miner out — " fellow s —
But there he stopped. Suddenly the painful pause iva
broken hy a high excited voice. "Tell 'cm Princeton's
the biggest college in the world, Tom, and lhai '96 can heal
an\ Freshman nine in ilie country !"
It broke the spell. Long and loud were the. cheers that
followed this outburst, and •• liraddv's hrol her." covered
with confusion, was hoisted by a do/en hands inl» the
wagon beside I he nine. I'.y Ihc time Ihat quiet had onci
more been restored Tom Bradlicld had recovered his
"nerve," and his speech on that memorable occasion will
go down to posterity as one of the best on record. All the
speeches were good, »/il< inliil. Bingo thought, for he heard,
and understood, and thrilled with e\ery word. When the
final sentence had been delivered, and '!H had once mom
chained thenine in triumph round the now visible cannon,
and cheered them hoarsely for the last time, and when the
crowd had begun to disperse, leaving the smouldering em-
ber-, ami shouting a ml singing as they wen I, Braddy turned
to his brother with a smile and said,
" Well, Biug, ready for bed t"
And Bingo answered with a sigh, " I suppose a fellow
has to go to bed even after a Freshman fire."
"THE OLD-FASHIONED LAWYER."
LAURA'S cousins were coming to stay overnight, so
she asked mamma if she might not invite sonic of her
school friends, and .some of brother Will's, to spend the
evening. And as these friends were pretty sure to conic-,
mother and daughter held a conference as how best to en-
tertain them.
" Why not have games .'"
" The very thing! What would I do without your help,
mother dear,1' was the impulsive answer.
"And the best game I know to start with would be The
Old-fashioned Lawyer. That will rub away all shyness,
and all will feel as though they were friends for a year."
I, aura was delighted, and contentedly ran off to tell her
brother. But Will did not know the game, and Laura had
to explain.
"We'll need an odd number of players. But that can
be arranged by you or I dropping out.
"The odd one must be Judge, to settle disputed point's.
"The players must sit opposite- each other in two rows,
and the Lawyer is to stand in the centre between the rows.
The Judge can sit in Ihc- big given chair, lie-cause- it is
high ; for he must keep all the- players in full vie-w.
"The game begins by the Lawyer putting a question to
the^ person at cither end of one of the rows. But the- 01^
to answer is not the one addressed. And there, Will, is
when1 the fun comes in."
"Who is to answer?"
"The person at the extreme end of the- opposite row.
Aud should he not correctly answer be-fore- the- Lawyer
counts five, he must e-hange places with Ihe- Lawyer. And
the Lawyer begins to count slowly out loud as soon as he-
asks the question."
" What if the person addressed ivplic a "
"Then he must pay a forfeit.
"After the first i|iie'stion is answered. Ihe- l.aw\er may
address whomever he pleases, but the parly addiv.s.-cd mnsi
remain silent; it is the opposite one who must answe-r.
The Lawyer must of course ask questions that are possible
to answer. If he should take- advantage-. I In re 's the- J
to keep him in order."
"What kind ofqneslious irnnlil \on ask .'"
" Why, ordinary onc-s. \Vhc.(hcr or not a person paints
from nature .' Who is your lavorile- mii.Mcian .' \Vhn-h do
you prefer, rowing or sailing, tennis m noli'.' All Kinds of
questions like that. 1 don't believe oiie of us couhl ti-;i
the- date- of i he- tirst crusade, or who invented ink and
when.
"And another I hing. never look at the- individual you in-
tend lie-\l I" i|lle-sl ion. I'.ir both he' and his opposite- Uejgll-
bor would t.heu he- prepared. Yon must plaj \ cry rapidly
or it's no fun. Ami if anj question or di>eiisMon occur.-,
Ihe' .1 udi;e- III ilsl dc<
"That will be right jolly, Laura. Hu \ou think th-
will all comet"
835
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
CORPORAL FRED.*
A Story of the Riots.
BY CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U.S.A.
CHAPTER V .
FOR a mile after leaving its armory the regiment bad
marched through the beautiful residence portion of the
city, cheered and applauded to the, skies. Turning " column
right," it had then threaded a narrow street, shop-lined and
less sympathetic, had tramped in cool disregard through
half a mile of railway property where, iu groups of tweuty
or thirty, strikers and sympathizers recoiled, but scowled
and cursed them, yet prudently refrained from further vio-
li-nce. Once in a while some street arab let drive a stone,
then dove under the nearest car, and scurried away into
hiding. Then came the lumber district, the swaying
bridges when' they broke their cadenced stride, and crossed
at route step. Then in the gathering darkness the head of
the column reached the outlying wards. Square upon square,
section on section of frame two-story houses, the homes of
citizens of only moderate means, and here, too, people
clustered on door-steps or ran to gather at street corners
and murmur God-speed and blessing, for less than a mile
;iw:iy now the western sky was lighting up with the glare
of conflagration, and the direful word was going round t hat
tin- mob was tiring the freight-cars, and that, despite the
efforts of fearless and devoted firemen, the flames were
spreading to warehouses and factories along the line. Only
ii few minutes after sundown the first summons had bauged
on the gongs of the engine and truck houses of the west
side. Then every fire-box for four miles along the lines of
the (Jreat Western seemed to have been "pulled," and in a
wild confusion of alarms assistant chiefs were driving their
clanging buggies, followed by rushing hose- wagons and
steamers, all over the outlying wards, unreeling their hose
only to have it slashed and ruined by swarming rioters, and
they themselves, the tire-fighters of the people, men whose
lives were devoted to duty, humanity, and mercy, brutally
clubbed and stoned by overpowering gangs of " toughs "
bent on mad riot and destruction. For hours from every
direction the vicious, the desperate, the unemployed of the
great city had been swarming to the scene, and the police
force that, properly led and handled at the outset, could
easily have quelled the incipient tumult, was now as power-
less as the firemen. Oh, what if a prairie gale should rise
and fan these flames, as once, long years before, it swept be-
fore it an ocean of fire that left only a ruined city iu its
wake !
Marching at route step now, but still in stern silence,
the column seemed to quicken its pace and push eagerly
ahead. Open spaces between the houses or one-storied
cottages became more frequent. Fiercer aud wilder the
flames seemed shooting on high. Over the low hoarse
murmur of the distant throng could now be heard occa-
sional crackle of pistol shots, followed by tierce yells. Out
at the front, a hundred yards in advance of the staff, an
alert young officer, with a dozen picked men, scoured the
streets, the front yards, the crossings, sweeping the way for
the main column ; and now as they came within six blocks
of the scene, the roar of the riot mingling with that of the
mounting flames drowned all other sounds about them.
Women at squalid saloons and corner groceries were laugh-
ing aud jeering. Women at quiet homes were weeping
aud wringing their hands. Somewhere up at the front,
Leyoud the black bulk of a row of warehouses, a sudden flash
and glare lit up the westward front of every house, aud
shone on scores of pallid faces. A volume of flame, a
burst of beams, sparks, and billowing smoke flung high iu
air, aud an instant later a dull roar and rumble shook the
windows close at hand, letting some loose sashes dowu with
startling clash and jangle. From the sidewalks arose
stifled shrieks and louder wailing. From the head of the
column, where some horses shied iu sudden fright, came the
firm, low-toned orders of the Colonel: "Forward the first
* Beguu iu HABPEK'S ROUND TABLE No. 821.
company! Clear that street ahead!" For, as if hurled back
by the explosion, a dense mass of rioters came flooding into
the' broad thoroughfare, blocking it from curb to curb.
Promptly at double time the foremost company went dancing
by, forming front into line as it cleared the group of mounted
officers, and then the Colonel turned in his saddle, and look-
ed back beyond his staff to a second rauk of orderlies and
buglers, to where a pale young fellow, hatless, and with
heavily bandaged head, rode side by side with the signal
sergeant, his dark eyes fixed on the soldierly form of his
commander.
" Corporal Wallace !" called the Colonel, and our wounded
Fred urged his horse to the commander's side. " Yon know
all these buildings hereabouts. Can you judge what they're
blowing up ?"
" That's uear the shops, sir. They may have fired them."
" Which is Alleu Street ? The police officials are to meet
us there."
" Second street ahead, sir ; jnst this side of the crowd."
" What's that big plant off there to the northward ?"
asked the Colonel, indicating a group of factorylike build-
ings whose walls and windows were illumined by the glare
of the flames iu the freight-yards.
'•The Amity Wagon-Works, sir, where Sercombe and I
wen- discharged this afternoon."
"Yes. I heard about that. Similar cases occurred in
town. Never you mind, my lad, there'll be employers
enough for both of you when this trouble's over, and
troubles enough for the employers who discharged you.
Now ride close by me ; we'll need guides here, aud that's
\\ by you're mounted. What an infernal row they're mak-
ing yonder," he added, as though to himself, as yeils of rage
aud triumph mingling rose madly over the hiss of the
flames.
Already the advance company was neariug the crossing
of the second street. At the hydrant on cue side stood a
fire-engine blowing off its useless steam. In a buggy, sur-
rounded by a dozen heluieted police on foot, sat an inspec-
tor of the department, alternately eying the flames and the
surging mob on one side, aud on the other the dim column
swinging up the dusty street. Already dozeus of excited
men were rushing, ducking, and darting along the side-
walks, speeding to their fellows in the mob to say the sol-
diers were close at hand. The little squad iu advance had
reached the crossing, when the official in the buggy raised
his hand, signalled halt, and, obedient to the time-honored
republican principle of the subordination of the military
to the civil power, the Lieutenant respected the order.
The leading company marched straight to the crossing,
then, too, in its turn, as one man, halted short at the com-
mand of its stalwart captain, and dowu came the musket
butts on the woodeu pavement. The Colouel spurred for-
ward, his Adjutant and Corporal Fred following iu his
tracks. There was little of gratification iu the soldier's
face as he recognized the official in the buggy; but, the
laws of his State, which he had sworn to obey, as well as
the orders of the Governor and the officers appointed over
him, prevailed. The Governor's orders placed the troops at
the disposal of the Mayor. The Mayor ordered the Colonel
to report to the Inspector of Police. It was something un-
heard of in military tradition, but this was no time to ex-
postulate or object. The gentleman and soldier touched
his hat to the ex-ward politiciau. " Mr. Morrissey, I report
with my regiment for your instructions." And the long
column behind him, battalion by battalion, came to the
halt.
I p the side street among some piles of lumber arose
ahov.- the tumult, or rather pierced its low, deep-throated
roar, the shrill cries of a child iu mad excitement and dis-
tress. " Oh, let me go !" it wailed. " I must see the Colo-
nel! I want my brother ! They're killing my father! Oh,
don't stop me! Fred! Fred!" it screamed, and in the
grasp of a burly policeman at the outskirts of a crowd of
womeu and children a little hatless boy could he seen
madly struggling.
"Ah, go home to your mother wid yer fairy stories," was
the cajoling answer, as the officer "strove 'to thrust the
youngster back among the by-stauders ; but all in an iu-
836
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
staut a lithe young fellow in the uniform of a corporal had
spring from his saddle and rushed to the scene. ID an-
other moment be had raised the boy in his arms, and with
s burrleu clinging sobbing at his neck, Fred Wallace came
bounding back down the street.
" Hear him, Colonel, oh, hear him !" he cried. " He has
com,, straight from the shops. Jim, my brother, sent him
to beg for help. They're mobbing father."
'Sure they tired the shops good fifteen minutes ago.
Tliej 're all in a blaze," said an officer of police, iu a tone of
remonstrance. '• There's no use going there."
"Who sent the kid?" asked the Inspector, doubtfully.
"How do yon know this isn't all a fake?"
"li's my brother," cried Fred, nearly mad with inrpa-
"C'an't I?" shouted the Colonel, eagerly grasping the
implied permission. -Out of the \\:ly there, \,,n people!"
he cried to some women and children SI-IIIT\ inn across the
street. "Come up with the rest of that lirst liattalii.n '."
ran;; his voice, clear anil thrilling, over the throng.
"Mount, corporal , you must show us the way. The police
will take care of the little man. Forward. Company I!!
Tumble that crowd into the gutter!"
"Forward, double time!" ordered the Captain. as the In-
spector whipped his Im^v out of the way, and the rilles
bounded up to the right shoulder. "March!" lie added,
an instant later, aud straight up the broad avenue, steady,
solid, unswerving, went the Ion", double ranks, ih, ( lolonel
aud his little party trotting close behind, the senior Major.
IN ANOTHER MOMENT HE HAD RAISED THE BOY IN HIS ARMS.
tience and dread. " Oh, for pity's sake, let us go, Colonel I
Jim sent you himself, didn't he. Billy f"
" Yes, yes," sobbed the little fellow, "and they were
screaming aud bursting in the door."
" Who is he, anyhow ?" went on the official, still bent on
investigation, when the Colonel sharply interposed.
"This is no time for talk. I believe the story. Yon can
see — hear it's true. I demand the right to drive back thai
mob, or the whole country shall ring with the story of your
refusal."
"Mv goodness, Colonel! I'm not to blame. I've got my
orders just as you have. I'm told to use force only as a last
extremity, aud not to fire at all. You can't scatter that
mob without tiring."
with his three companies, follow ing sturdily in their wake
while the Lieutenant-colonel, ordering the bugle aigliala
"attention" and " for ward," prepared to support them with
the rest of the column. Yelling and jeering. Mil seat lering
rinht and left, tin- nearest rioters leaped for the sidewalks.
or turned and tied into tin- thicker mass ahead, less able
from its own solidity to move. " Port arms!" was the next
command, ami down came the brown barrels across ihe
broad blue chest*, "(live 'cm the but I if I hey keep in the
way." grow led the burly Captain. "Steady there in the
centre. Keep ih line," he cautioned, as siilne eai;el tellows
strove to quicken the pace and lead in the anticipated
chaise, and so I ram p. tramp, tramp, tramp, in the quick ca-
dence of the dancing feel, sixty -six M inn;;, the seuiol cuni-
837
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
pain led the ready column straight into the heart of the
mob, straigbt through the gates, where two fool hardy fellows
striving to lower tliem were flattened out by tin- \\ liack of
musket-butts, and weut down like stock-yard catllr under
the blow of the steel. Over the gleaming lines of track*.
in the glare of blazing rows of freight-cars, right, and left,
sweeping the cursing rioters like chaff before them, reck-
less of flying missile or savage oath, through the broad
gates be\ond the yards, with clearer ground ahead, they
kept their steady way, then slowed down to quick time,
their triumphant passage safely forced. Then, once oiit-
side the yards, leayiug to their comrades in the rear the
easy duty of facing and standing off the raging lint impo-
tent throng, the foremost company. led now by the Colonel,
with Corporal Fred in close attendance, broke once more
into column of fours, and plunged into a narrow street
lighted by the flames shooting aloft from the repair shops
of the Great Western road. Ahead of them, separated from
the yards by the high picket- fence, was au open space
wellnigh packed with rioting men, their savage faces ruddy
in the glare. The fence itself was blazing from the neigh-
boring cars, and a broad section almost opposite the shops
had been hurled down by the mob.
" Back with you, Captain !" called the Colonel to his Ad-
jutant. "Turn the second battalion into the yards and
up to that gap. We'll hem them on two sides there!
Close up! Close up!" he shouted to the rearward compa-
nies. "Now, Captain Fulton, form line again the moment
you clear this lane." The Adjutant went clattering back
full gallop. Another minute, and the rush and roar of the
crowd beyond the fence told that the ready second was
sweeping all before it down among the blazing cars.
Presently the long rows of drab felt hats could be seen
dancing along in the fire-light.
"Never fear, corporal, we'll be there in time," said the
Colonel. "See, the flames haveu't reached half their length.
Now, Fulton, right turn and drive them north. Split 'em
up! Give 'em — fits!" he added, with a gulp, for he was a
pious man, and opposed to the use of terms that come " far
more natural" at such a time. And the next thing Fred
knew Captain Fulton's men were again double-timing up
another street, whirling the crowd before them. "G,"
"H," and "L" — Fred's own company — were sweeping the
broad space in front of the shops from one side, and fairly
pitching the mob into the faces of their comrades of the
second battalion as they neared the gap. If there were
broken noses, blackened eyes, battered heads all through
those suburban streets and lanes that grewsome night it
surely wasn't the fault of the Colonel's " boys," but a score
of these fellows, following the lead ofthehatless corporal,
who sprang from his horse opposite the hlaziug entrance,
bending low to avoid the stifling smoke, pushed on across
the little court-yard, past a wrecked and dismantled wing
whose roof was just crackling and bursting into fierce
flames.
Behind them, sure of protection now, adozeu firemen came
dragging their hose. A knot of ragged, raging "toughs,"
issuing from a narrow door, hurst away at sight of them —
not so quick as to escape some resounding thumps of those
hated rifle-butts, and through this smoking portal leaped
Fred, closely followed by his comrades. The, shooting flames
overhead and down the main building lit :i pathway even
through the stifling clouds of smoke, and a moment more
brought the foremost of the party to a little room parti-
tioned off. There on its accustomed peg hung old Wallace's
coat.
Here, there, and everywhere, overturned benches and
chairs and scattered tools, and scraping, struggling font-
prints on the dusty floor told of some recent and des-
perate battle. Something warm and wet was sprinkled
all about the. place, at touch of which Fred grew sick and
faint; but not another sign was there of old Wallace or
of Jim, until from under a blazing, half-finished car some
fifty feet away the firemen dragged a battered, bleeding
form, and the younger brother threw himself by the sense-
less elder's side, madly imploring him to say what had be-
fallen father.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
I1IS SCORCHING WAS NOT IN VAIN.
BY WILLIAM IIKMMIN«WAY.
Al.'THUR CLARK believed himself the victim of gross
injustice-. His bicycle had brought him into dis-
grace. Me Imd come home flushed with victory, ready to
be hailed as the uncrowned king of scorchers, and here
he \\a> virtually a prisoner in his room, whither he had
been sent directly after a wretched supper of oatmeal por-
ridge.
" I wouldn't mind it if I had been ordered not to go into
the road race," he said to himself, for the fiftieth time, as
he rolled impatiently in his bed; "but just because I
promised my father I wouldn't do any riding that would
exhaust me, he has packed rue off to bed as if I were a
mere child. That's pretty rough on a fellow of fourteen.
Anyhow, I beat all the scorchers ill our school, and that's
something."
Arthur could not go to sleep. Re twisted and squirmed
from one side of the bed to the other, listening to the
solemn protests of the katydids and the shrill chirping of
the crickets. That industrious prompter, conscience, be-
gan to annoy him shamelessly. Now that the first flush of
his resentment had died away, he thought that perhaps
his father was right after all. True, he had beaten all the
other fellows easily; but then, what if it had been a hard
struggle ? Wouldn't it have exhausted him ? It occurred
to him that he had broken his word.
Arthur fell asleep very late. He usually slept so fast
and so hard that from bedtime until the rising bell seemed
like one minute. But now he tossed restlessly. His sleep
was light. Suddenly he found himself sitting bolt-up-
right iu bed. He saw a streak of pale whitish light on
the floor and across his bed, and caught a glimpse of the
moon. Oh, yes, it was the moon that had awakened him.
Queer that had never happened before. He would go to
sleep again. Then a rough, rather hoarse voice startled
him. It came from his father's room.
"You're comin' right down ter de bank, dat's wat you're
goiii' ter do," the voice said, " an' if ye don't open de safe
ye'll he learned how — see ?"
"I shall not go one step. You may do your -worst." It
was his father's voice now.
"Hurrah for you, father!" Arthur could hardly keep
from shouting. Then there was silence for a moment. He
heard two sharp clicks that told of the cocking of a re-
volver; then his mother's voice pleading with his father
to remember the children. Now there was the sound of
a struggle. The burglar won, although he feared to use
his revolver least the noise might, summon help. Arthur
understood it all. His father was the cashier of the Traders'
Bank. The burglar probably had au accomplice outside
who would help take his father to the bank and force him
to open the safe.
Help must be got. The bank was iu Plaiufield, three
miles away. If only there were some way of telephoning
to the police, station ! He knew that a sergeant sat there
all night. Men slept upstairs. But there was no tele-
phone. Now a, thought came to him that almost made him
shout for joy. In ten seconds he had jumped into his
sweater and kuickerbockers, and was lacing on his rubber-
soled bicycling shoes. He did not wait for a hat or stock-
ings. He peered anxiously over the edge of the porch roof
into the backyard. No, there was no one watching there.
Noiselessly the boy lowered himself over the edge, and
climbed down one of the pillars, crushing the honeysuckle
vine as he went. He found his bicycle leaning against the
house, where he had left it that afternoon after the race.
He picked up the wheel and walked on tiptoe across the
grass at the rear of the house. He threaded his way be-
tween the rows of corn-stalks in the kitchen-garden. He
made a long circuit, and at last came out in the road.
Then he mounted his bicycle and wheeled away at a pace
that would have astonished bis friends. Going down hill
he was very cautious. He bacU pedalled. There must be
no falling; therefore no coasting. Again on the level road,
he shot forward like a racer. He knew that, if the burg-
lars got his father into the bank they would try to make
Sis
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
him open the safe in which $70,000 had been deposited that
day. His father would resist, he knew. lie remembered
what hail happened to other bank cashiers who resisted.
The thought choked him. He bent over his handle bar,
and the wheels seemed to fly. The pale, sinking moon, the
silent, road that stretched its white length before him, the
tall trees, mysterious in their own dark shadows, the grass
shining with dew, all made a picture that he never forgot.
Above all, a scene stood ont that he could not shut from his
mind, try as he might — his father in the hands of the two
ruffians, resolutely defying them in face of awful danger.
The sergeant nodding in his chair in the police station
at one o'clock in the morning was startled by the vision of
a bareheaded, white-faced boy.
"Hurry!" the boy exclaimed. "The Traders' Bank!
Robbers!" In less than a minute the sergeant and two of
his men were on their way to the bank. Arthur followed
them closely. He hid with them in the dark vestibule of
the hank. It seemed to the boy us il year passed before
hi' at la. I heard footsteps ill the silent street. Then the
minutes were hours long. At last, the two robbers :ind
their victim arrived :it I be outer door. They pushed mm
in and told him to lie ]i\ el y a I H.I it unlock iii", that dour. At
that instant the police] jumped forward ami presented
their pistols at the heads of the burglars. The;, made no
resistance. The\ were too surprised. Arthur ami his fa-
ther walked home side, by side, Arthur pnsliing his bi. \rle
by the handlebar. Fora h.nu time thej bad nothil
say to each other, for each was busy with his llmuvJiK.
"Arthur," said his fat her at length. " I'm "Ja.
scorcher in the family, but I —
" Yes, sir." interrupted the hoy, eagerly ; "but 1 want to
tell yon I'm sorry I went into the road race t" <la\ ."
"Perhaps I was too hasty," said Mr. Clark. " lint the
bicycle has done, one good thing. It has shown me that
my sou is as quick-witted as he is brave."
GREAT MEN'S SONS.
THE SON OF CIIAL! LEMAGNE.
BY ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS.
the summer days of the year
?sl an odd sort of a procession
marched through France.
There were fluttering stand-
ards and melodious trumpets;
there were gallant knights, and
grave men in robes and gowns,
and noble ladies, and a long train
of servants; there were spear-
""'" :I1R1 howinen and horsemen
iu Iuartial array; and the cen-
tral figure of all this parade and
pomp was a very small boy of but three years old.
Strangest of all was this small boy's dress. He was hut
little more than a baby, and yet he rode upon a stately
war-horse housed in purple and gold. He was clad in
complete armor of polished steel; on his head he wore- a
casque of steel and gold, surmounted with a tiny golden
crown; in his small hand he bore a truncheon, and about
his neck was slung a cross-handled sword of steel and gold.
A stalwart knight rode at the little boy's bridle-rein, his
protecting arm holding the small rider firmly in the. sail-
die : the royal banner .fluttered ahead, and at the boy's
right hand rode his governor and guardian, Count William,
called the snub-nosed — well, because it was.
From castle and cottage, from town and hamlet, came
thronging men and women, boys and girls, with smile and
cheer and shout of hearty welcome : " Heaveu bless his
little Grace! God guard our little King! Long live King
Louis!"
For this very small hoy of three was indeed a King en-
tering his dominion. He had been clowned by the Pope
at Rome King of Aquitaine. Then, from his father's splen-
did palace in Aachen, or what is now the German city of
Aix-la-Chapelle, he had started with his glittering escorl
to take possession of his kingdom in southwestern France.
Over the first part of the route he was carried in his cradle ;
but when he left the city of Orleans, and, crossing the
Loire, set foot within his own dominions, this cradle-trav-
elling, so the old chronicle tells us, " beseemed him no
longer." He was a King, and this was his kingdom; there-
fore" like a King he must make bis royal progress. So upon
this little three-year-old was put a suit of shining armor,
made expressly for him. w itli sword and truncheon "equally
proportioned" ; they set him on horseback, and thus royally
attended he entered Aquitaiue. and marched on to his own
royal palace at Toulouse. Ho must have looked " awfully
cunning" — thisthr year-old in armor — but just thinkhow
tired the poor little fellow must ha\e been.
Aquitaine. was that large section of soul h western France
that stretched from the river Loire to the Pyrenees, ami
from the Bay of Biscay eastward to the banks of the
Rhone. It had been brought under subjection by the con
qneriug monarch whose short-lived empire embraced all of
Europe from Rome to Copenhagen, and from the English
Channel to the Iron Gates of the Danube, and who, parcel-
ling out his dominion among his bo\s. hail set over the
principality of Aqnitaine as Kinj; his little three-year-old
Louis, forever famous as the sou of Charlemagne.
Here, in his palace at Toulouse, did Louis rule as King
of Aquitaiue for thirty-two years, subject only to his re-
nowned father, Charles the Emperor, called Carolus Mag-
nus, or Charlemagne. This mighty man, " the greatest of
Germans" — great in stature, in aim, in energy, and iu
authority — looked sharply after the small boy he had made
King of Aqnitaine. He had the lad carefully and thor-
oughly educated, and Louis grew to be an intelligent,
bright-faced, clear-eyed, sturdy, and strong young man ,
but he was sober and sedate, skilled in the >enptuies and
learned in Latin and Greek, unsuited to the rough war
days in which he lived, more a scholar than a soldier, and
more a priest than a prince.
So the years slipped by. Then trouble came to the t;n ,-n
Emperor. One by one the sons of Charlemagne .sickened
and died — those brave and stalwart bo\ s upon whom the
father had relied as the stay and help of his old a^c. Ins
successors in his plan of empire. At. last only Louis the
Clerk was left .
llludwig Froinme he was called by his subjects of Aqui-
tainc — that is. Louis the Kind; and thus, though wrongly
rendered, the name of this good and peace-loving son of
Charlemagne has come down to us as Louis the Pious, or
Louis le Debonair.
Nowadays we are apt to think of debonair as meaning
ua\ . careless, fashionable, and " dudish"; but Louis-, the son
of Charlemagne, was anything but ibis, lie was kind.
courteous, loving, gentle, and true ; In it be was also strict.
dutiful, and just. He was strong of limb and stout of
arm; none could bend bow better nor coiicli lance truer
1 1 KM i be : i in i lie never cared for sport nor the roue h •• horse-
plav " of his da\ ; he seldom laughed aloud : he- w as ^\-\\\ e.
prudent, and wise, •• slow to anger, su ift to pity, liberal in
both ",i\ ing and forgi\ ing."
He won the lo\ alt\ of his subjects of Aqnitaine by lo\e
and not b\ t\r,-imi\ ; he kept at ba\ the pagan Moors of
Spain, and, under wise counsellors, sought t" I-.OM-IU his
kingdom justly and well.
But when his brothers died, and be, the youngest of the
three, was summoned to bis father's .side, he let'i his i
by tie- Garonne, ill pleasant Toulouse, and haslci
Aix-la-Chapelle. bis fat ber's capital.
It was the year 813. An assembly of t : fthc
839
'HEAVEN BLESS HIS LITTLE GRACE."
empire met the great King in his capital, and promised to
recognize King Louis of Aqnitaine as heir to the throne of
Charlemagne. Then in the great church that he hail built
at Aix-la-Chapelle the old monarch, dressed in magnificent
robes (which he never liked and would but rarely put on),
stood before the vast assembly of princes and nobles of
Germany, leaning upon the shoulder of his sturdily built
and kindly looking son.
The sounds of prayer and song that opened the ceremony
were stilled, and then the old Emperor, facing his son, told
him that the lords and barons of the empire bad sanc-
tioned his appointment as associate and heir.
"You will reign in my stead," he said. 'Tear God, my
son, and follow His law. Govern the Church with care, and
defend it from its enemies. Preserve the empire ; show
kindness to your relations; honor the clergy as your fa-
thers, and love the people as your children. Force the
proud and the evil ones to take the paths of virtue; be
the friend of the faithful and the 'helper of the poor.
Choose your ministers wisely; take from no man his prop-
erty unjustly, and keep yourself pure and above reproach
in the eyes of God and man."
Then Charlemagne bade Louis take up the iron crown
of Rome and the empire that lay upon the altar, and place
it upon his head. "Wear it worthily, O King, my son, "the
father said, "as a gift from God, your father, and the na-
tion."
And when the son of Charlemagne had thus crowned him-
self Emperor, turning to the great assembly the old man
said: "Behold, I present to you your sovereign and your
lord. Salute him, all people, as Emperor and Augustus !"
A mighty shout of loyalty and welcome filled the crowd-
ed church, and thus was the sou of Charlemagne crowned
as his great father's associate and successor. And when,
in the year 814, Charlemagne, still a sturdy old man, sud-
denly fell sick of a fever, and died in his palaee at Aix-la-
G'hapelle, at the age of seventy-one, Louis ascended the
throne of what was called the Holy Roman Empire as its
sole and sovereign lord.
He came to his vast power with high hopes and lofty
aims. The solemn words of his father upon his coronation
day lived in his memory, and he determined to rule ia
peace, in justice, in wisdom, and in love. He would abstain
from war; he would lift his people higher; he would make
his court learned, retiued, and pure . ; he would he father
and friend to all his people, and make his realm rejoice.
Louis, called the Pious and the Kind-hearted, should rather
have been called Louis the Well-intentioned.
But alas for good intentions if strength of will be want-
ing! Louis lived in harsh and brutal days, and men could
appreciate neither his gentle manners nor his worthy aims.
He had neither his father's strength of mind nor firmness-
of will, nor had he what is called magnetism — the power
to compel men to do as one elects. His noble aims were
speedily brought to naught; his high purpose was swiftly
overthrown ; his ambitious sons opposed him, quarrelled
with him, defied him, assailed and dethroned him; and af-
ter a stormy reign of twenty-six years, during which he
many times wished to give up his crown and become a
monk. Louis the Well-intentioned died, in the summer of
the year H-10, on one of the little islands in the river Rhine,
a discrowned, defeated, and sorrowing King, conquered by
his sons.
The great empire his father had left him was speedily
broken asunder, and from its remains, after long years of
disorder and of blood, came at last the nations of France
and Germany — the outgrowth of that vast heritage of pow-
er which the son of Charlemange had received from bis-
mighty father, but had neither wit nor will enough to gov-
ern or hold unbroken.
A noble man in many ways was Louis, the son of Charle-
magne. But he lived in advance of his times, for stormy
seas demand a strong hand at the helm, and great matters
require the head to plan and the will to do. In all of these
requirements for royalty was Louis deficient; and while
history accords him praise for honesty of purpose, gentle-
ness of heart, good intentions, and lofty aims, it still writes
him down as an unsuccessful ruler, because a weak-willed
son could not uphold the heritage of a father who indued
was great.
OAKLEIQH.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND
CHAPTER IX.
THE last excitement of the summer before school began
•was a river picnic, given by Gertrude Morgan. A note
was brought to Edith one afternoon which ran thus:
"Mv DEAREST EDITH, — Will you, Cynthia, Jack, and
Neal Gordon join us on the river to-morrow? My cousins,
Tom and Kitty Morgan, are here, and another fellow, aw-
fully nice, that Tom brought with him, and we want to do
something to entertain them. This is such perfect weather
for the river. We will come up from Brentou early, and
reach Oakleigh before noon. You can join us in your
boats, and we will go higher up above the rapids for din-
ner. If you will bring your chafing-dish and your alcohol
lamp for the coffee it is all I ask. On the whole, you need
not bring the lamp. We will build a fire. But the chafing-
dish would be nice. .Do come! Don't f nil. A u . reroir un-
til to-morrow at about twelve. Devotedly,
" GERTRUDE.
" P.S. — I am sure you will lose your heart to Tom's friend.
I have !"
The next day, shortly before noon, the Franklins were
awaiting their friends on the Oakleigh boat -landing.
They had two canoes, one that the family had owned for
a year or two, and another that Mrs. Franklin had given
her brother on his birthday.
Baskets were packed in the boats, containing the chafing-
dish, some sandwiches, and delicious cake that Mrs. Frank-
lin had had made as her contribution to the picnic, and a
large box of candy which Neal had bought.
It was a glorious day. The September sun shone bright-
ly, and a trifle warmly, on the dancing river. The gay
foliage along the banks — for the autumn tints had come
early this year — was reflected in the clear water, and a
gentle wind stirred the white birches. An army of crows
had encamped near by, ami the. woods rang with their
cawing as they carried on an important debate among
themselves.
Presently arou IM I il urve '• <• ihe ;nl\ ance ymmi of
the picnic, a canoe containing Dennis Mori;.-!!! and his
cousin Kitty, while' closely following them was another,
paddled by Tom Morgan, in which sat iJerinide and a
stranger.
They all waved their hats and handkerehM's, and when
they came within speaking distance Gertrude shouted •
"Isn't it fun? Such a perfect day, and more fellows
than girls! You know my cousins, don't you, except
Neal? Kitty and Tom, let me present Mr. Gordon, and
this is Mr. Bronsou. The Misses Kdith and Cynthia Frank-
lin, Mr. Tony Brouson. There, now, did I do it correctly?
Did I mention the ladies' names first, and then the gentle-
men's? I picked up a book on etiquette in a shop the
other day, and it said you must."
Every one laughed, and no one noticed but Cynthia that
Neal's face darkened when he heard Bronsou's name and
saw him for the first time. Of course, she knew at once
who he was.
"There ought to bo a grand change of partners," con-
tinued the lively Gertrude, " but it's too much trouble.
However, Tom, you had better get out and take one of the
Oakleigh canoes, and an Oakleigh girl and Jack can get
in here — unless Mr. Bronson would rather be the one to
change."
This was said with a coquettish glance at Bronson, who
in a low voice hastened to assure her that he was more
than satisfied with his present position.
He was a handsome fellow of about seventeen, tall and
of somewhat slight build, with very regular features. His
eyes were his weak point. They were of a pale greenish-
blue, and were too close together.
His greeting to Neal was most cordial. " Holloa, old
THE START FROM OAKLEIGH.
841
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
fellow!" lie said; "tins is a piece of luck. Miss Morgan
told me you were stopping here, so I was prepared for the
pleasure."
"As if he hadn't known it before," muttered Neal to
Cynthia, as lie helped her iuto the canoe, and they pushed
oil'. •' He sent that letter here and he got mine from here.
He's a hypocritical ass."
"Look out, Neal!" cautioned Cynthia; " you know how
sound carries on the water." And she was quite sure from
the expression on Brnnson's face that he had heard.
There was some discussion as to where their destination
should he.
"Let's go as high as we can," said Gertrude. "Ahove
Charles River village.''
"But there is the ' carry,'" objected her liruther.
"What of that? We've often carried liefnre."
"Not with an average of one fellow to a boat. No; I
say we stop the other side of the small rapids. If any one
wants to explore above there on his own account he can
do so."
It was finally settled thus, and the party set forth. It
Tvas a pretty sight. The cedar canoes, with gay carpets
and cushions, and freight of girls and hoys in white boat-
ing costumes, gave the needed touch of life to the peace-
ful Charles River. So Mrs. Franklin thought when she
came down to see them off.
" I have not been invited," she said, "hut I really think
I must drive up this afternoon and see your encamp-
ment."
"Oh, do, Mrs. Franklin!" cried Gertrude, enthusiasti-
cally. "We would just love to have yon come, and we
ought to have a chaperon, though we are all brothers and
sisters and cousius! She is the most perfect creature.'1
she added to Bronson, as they moved off. "You know
she is the Franklins' step -mother. Isn't she a dear,
Jack?"
Jack, who was paddling, acquiesced. Brouson sat at
ease in the bow. He was always lazy. Neal, though
averse to hard work which was work only, was ready for
anything in (lie way of athletics. He was now an ac-
complished paddler, and had already far outstripped the
others.
Their destination was some two or three miles up the
river. The water was low, and Cynthia kept a sharp look-
out for rocks.
"Keep to the left here, Neal," she directed; "that
Jedge runs all across the river."
"I bet those Brentou fellows will scrape going through
here. Not one in a hundred would take the left. I haven't
scraped once since I had the canoe. The bottom is as
smooth as the day she came, and that is saying a good
deal when the river is as low as it is now."
They skirted a huge oak-tree which had fallen half
across the river, and, passing through some gentle rapids,
reached the cleared shady spot on the bank where they
were to eat their luncheon. The others soon arrive.il, and
preparations were immediately begun for building a fire.
The hoys explored the neighborhood for dry sticks, and a
cheerful little blaze was soon crackling away on the bank.
I'otatoes had been buried beneath to roast in the ashes,
and the coffee-pot, filled with water from a neighboring
spring, was placed above. Dennis Morgan, whose coffee
was far-famed and unrivalled, superintended this part of
the work.
The girls unpacked the baskets, and spreading a table-
cloth, arranged the goodies most temptingly thereon.
"Edith, you must do the oysters on the chafing-dish,"
said Gertrude; "no one does them like you."
"Oysters! Have you really got oysters? How per-
fect!" cried Cyuthia, who, laden with cups and saucers,
was stumbling over some stray boughs at the imminent
risk of herself and the crockery.
"Let me help you, Miss Franklin," said Brouson, com-
ing languidly forward.
"Oh no, thanks!" returned Cynthia, tartly. "I would
not trouble you for the world. You have quite enough to
do."
Dennis Morgan, who heard her, turned away to hide a
laugh. Bronson had been leaning against a tree uiu;l of
the time with his hands in his pockets.
"Come, now, don't be too hard on a fellow, Miss Frank-
lin. I'll do anything you ask. A fellow feels kind of
out of place, don't you know, with so many working."
"Really! Well, if you are truly anxious to make your-
self useful, perhaps you will get some ferns to decorate
the table ?"
" Certainly," said Brouson, looking about him in a help-
less way : " will these do?" and he broke off a large brake.
"No, of course not. The ones I want grow at quite a
distance from here, over in those -woods there," pointing.
" Please get some."
"Oh, Miss Franklin, so far? But you will go with me,
of course."
'"Of course,' did I hear you say?" asked Cynthia,
straightening herself from her arrangement of the table
and standing very erect, with a bottle in one hand and an
olive on the end of a fork in the other. "What can you
be thinking of? Of course not I am busy. But you
have no time to lose if you want to get them here before
lunch is ready. It is a good half-mile there and back."
"When Miss Franklin commands I have but to obey,"
said Bronson, with a bow, though there' was a disagreeable
light in his steely eyes. "Who will take pity on me
and go with me? Miss Morgan, surely you will be so
good ?"
Gertrude was much pleased at being singled out by the
guest of the occasion, and although she knew that the
ferns which were growing in profusion all about them
would adorn the table just as well, she gave no hint of
it, for she was not averse to taking the walk with Brou-
son.
"Tell me about the Franklins," said he, as he took her
red umbrella and opened it. " Are they fond of their
step-mother .'"
" All but Edith, and she can't bear her, and I don't
think she is over-fond of Neal, either. Tell rue something
about him, Mr. Bronson. He is a school-mate of yours,
you say ?"
"Oh, don't ask me! I think it's awfully bad form for
one fellow to give away another, don't yon know. Of
course, some fellows would, but I'm not that kind."
Gertrude admired these sentiments extremely. She
wished that Bronsou would hold the umbrella at an angle
that would shield her a little more. It was entirely over
him, while she herself was in the sun, and it was rather
warm walking. However, it was a pleasure to have her
umbrella carried by such an elegant-looking individual,
even though she derived no benefit from it.
From his words and manner Gertrude gathered the idea
that Brouson, if he chose, could tell something very much
against Neal Gordon, but his high sense of honor held him
back.
"What a lovely fellow he is!" thought Gertrude; then
she said aloud, "Of course I would uot have you for the
world. I have always fancied there might be something,
don't you know?"
Now Gertrude had really never fancied anything of the
kind, and yet she did uot dream of being untruthful. It was
an idea horn of the moment. Her vanity prompted her to
agree with Branson, who was apparently such a very charm-
ing fellow.
"Oh, don't say that, Miss Morgan! I didn't mean to
give you that idea. You're so awfully clever, you have
guessed what I never iuteuded to say. Don't ever tell
what I said, will you? I wouldn't take away the fellow's
character for the world."
Gertrude blushed and promised, pleased to find herself
in the position of having a secret with Brousou. She told
her cousin Kitty, afterwards, that he really talked most
confidentially with her.
When they returned, luncheon was ready. Cyuthia
took the ferns with a cool "Thank you," looked at them
critically and somewhat dubiously, and laid them on the
impromptu table.
"Terribly anty," she said, shaking a spray vigorously in
the air. " Ugh ! look at the ants!"
842
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
" Perhaps those that grow over here would not have had
any ants," said Bronson, - hut I am so much obliged to you
for sending me for these, Miss Franklin. I had such a
•charming walk. It quite repaid me, even though you are
so chary of your thanks."
"I'm so glad," returned Cyuthia, "but not as glad as 1
am famished."
She left BrunsOD, and walking around to the farther side
of the table, sat down. Neal followed her, ami presently
they were all seated and enjoying the dainty meal.
Never was there such clear and fragrant coffee, and the
rich cream that the Franklins had brought mads it "equal
to the nectar of Olympus," said Bronsou; he was addicted
to airy speech.
The oysters were done to a turn and seasoned to a
nicety, and the sandwiches melted in one's mouth. In the
midst of the feast they heard the sound of wheels on tin-
bridge, and looking up, they saw Mrs. Franklin, who was
•driving herself.
"You see I couldn't stay away," she called to them.
" Jack, come tie Bess for me, and then let mo have a bite,
if you have anything to spare."
Edith's face clouded. "Why did she hare to come so
soon ?" she thought, and her expression was not lost on
Brousou.
" So this is the rich sister and step-mother," thought
Brouson ; " and the eldest daughter doesn't like her com-
iug. Now, I don't exactly sec why Gordon can't settle the
balance if she has such a pile. But I'll lie low and work
him easily."
Ilr watched his opportunity, and after luncheon he fol-
lowed Neal to the river-bank, where he was getting a pail
of water for dish-washing purposes.
" I say, Gordon, old fellow, I haven't had a chance before
to thank you for sending me the fifty. You see I was in a
confounded hole myself, and there was no way out of it but
to ask you. I hated to dun you. As for the rest, there's
no hurry about that whatever."
Neal looked at him. His brown eyes could be very
searching when occasion required. Bronsou stooped, and
picking up aflat stone from the little beach on which they
were standing, he tossed it across the river.
" Five skips," said he, lightly, as he turned away.
" Hold on a minute," said Neal. " Your offer is very
kind, but you may be pretty sure that I'll pay you as soon
as I can. I've no wish to be under obligations to you any
longer than is necessary."
•• As you like," returned Bronson, with a shrug. " I only
thought it might ease your mind to know that there's no
.actual hurry. Ah, Miss Franklin," as Cynthia drew near,
" can't I persuade you to go out ou the river with me ?"
" I am afraid not.. I should think that you hadn't pad-
dled a great deal, as I noticed that you took your ease
coming up."
"Miss Franklin, I never should have imagined that you
were timid on the water. How little one can tell !"
" I am not a bit timid, but I don't care to be upset."
'• Upset!" laughed Bronson. " Why, I've been upset, a
dozen times. lu such a shallow ditch as this it wouldn't
make nfiich difference, as long as we're suitably dressed."
Cynthia looked at him slowly, criticisingly, scornfully.
Thru she said :
" I should think bathing clothes were the only things
suitable for upsetting. And the Charles River isn't a
ditch. Of course you didn't know, and we can pardon the
ignorant a good deal."
Bronson turned away and left. them.
"That last was a scorcher," chuckled Neal, who hail been
listening attentively. " If there is one thing Bronson hates
.above another, it is to be thought not to 'know it all,' and
he caught on to wluvt you meant."
Cynthia, however, felt a little remorseful. She was quite
sure that she had been rude. Bronson was a .stranger, and
should have been treated with the politeness due to such.
But then he was Ncal's enemy, and Cynthia could never
be anything but loyal to Neal. Thus she soothed her cou-
acience.
When luncheon had been cleared away and the baskets
packed to go home, Bronson asked Kdith if she would go
out with him mi the river.
"Just for a little paddle, Miss Franklin," he said. " Do
come !"
Cynthia heard him, and she frowned and shook her head
\ iiMiroiisly at her sister, hoping that she would not gi>, but
Edith had 110 intention of declining the invitation. She
said yes, with one of her prettiest, smiles, ami accompa-
nied Brouson to the place where the canoes wen- drawn up
on the bank.
"I suppose it doesn't make any difference which one 1
take," he said, and, either by accident or design, he single.]
out Neal's boat and put it into the water. Kdith steppe,!
in, and then watched Bronsou's movements with somo
trepidation. Ho did not seem to know much about the
management of a canoe, and they rocked alarmingly with
his short, uncertain strokes.
" I'll soon get the hang of it," he said, reassuringly. " I
have never been much ou a river, but it's easy enough."
Cynthia walked along the bank, watehing them.
'• I hope you've got a life-preserver, Edith ! Mr. Bronson
says he is in the habit of upsetting — likes it, in fact — and
I'm dreadfully afraid for you. You know you can't swim,
and Mr. Brousou will never he able to save yon «» inll tin
himself. Do be careful of my sister, Mr. Bronson. The ditch
is rather deep just there. Oh, look at him wiggle!" she
added to Neal, who had followed her.
"And the fellow has taken my canoe!" growled Neal.
"Poor Neal! Yon boasted too soon. You'll never again
be able to say there isn't a scratch on the bottom."
"I only hope I shall ever see the boat again. He'll
probably smash her all to smithereens."
"I suppose it makes no difference if Edith is 'smashed
to smithereens,' only the canoe," remarked Cynthia, de-
murely.
In the mean time Edith was haviug an exciting voyage.
Bronson paddled slowly and unevenly up the river until he
found himself in the rapids, which were much swifter and
more dangerous than those they had passed through on the
way from Oakleigh. The canoe scraped and creaked over
the rocks. The only wonder was that a hole was not stove
at once in the bottom.
They were in the midst now of the rushing water. Sud-
denly the boat lodged for a moment on a rock, and swayed
to and fro. Down to the very water's edge went first one
side and then the other. A half-inch more and they would
have capsized.
Edith sat perfectly silent, scarcely daring to breathe.
Bronsou, never before so quick in his movements, righted
the craft, and with a vigorous push of the paddle got off the
dangerous rock.
"I — I think it would be rather pleasanter to tie up,"
faltered Edith.
"Sodol. Wish you hail said so before. Noi that I mind
exploring, but it's hot work such a day as this "
The}' found a shady bank and drew up under the bnslies.
Edith gave a sigh of relief.
" Do you mind if I smoke '" asked Bronsuu. get I ing out a
silver cigarette-case with a ?i/ii«'air.
••Oh, not at all."
"That's nice. Now we can lie comfortable. I am so
glad you came with me tlii^ afterno for I want to talk
to yon, Miss Franklin. 1 want to talk freely to you about
something."
Edith's faee expressed her astonishment.
"You look surprised," he continued. " hut \ ou will imt
be when I tell you what it is. "i on are the only person
whom 1 can ivl\ on to manage the matter well and to help
me. It is connected with Neal i."i.lou."
[TO UK CHlNTlNtlKI'.]
AN EXPLANATION.
MAMMA. " Why do you • in evi
thing i" eat, Herhei i ."'
lli:i:ni:i:i. " liccausc. mamma. I :im MI small that I cannot
eai enough to last me over an hour."
843
ON THE EARTH AND IN THE SKY.
THE EARTH YESTERDAY, TO-DAY,. TO-MORROW.
BY N. S. SHALER,
PEOFESSOR OF GEOI.OGV AT HARVARD UNIVERSITY.
FROM ancient days men have been seeking to learn
the history of the earth ; how it came to be set in the
orderly array of the heavenly bodies; how it has step by
step come forth from the ancient chaos to the existing per-
fection ; how and to what end it is to go forward in ages
beyond our own. In this century many thousands of able
men have been engaged in these inquiries.
The studies of astronomers have made it evident that in
the olden days, indeed before days began, at a time which
is to be reckoned as many hundred million years ago, the
sun and the other bodies of the solar system, including our
earth, the kindred planets and their satellites, were parts
of a great mass of vapor or star dust, which extended
throughout the spaces in which these spheres now swing
about the sun. As time went on this nebulous mass,
just like many such masses which the telescope reveals
in the distant heavens, drew together, because its par-
ticles were impelled by gravitation towards the central
point, and as it contracted it began to revolve, much as
our earth and the other spheres as well now turn on their
axes. Thus turning, it divided into successively formed
rings, each of which in time broke up, the matter of
the ring gathering into a separate planet. At first this
planet, like the original mass, was gaslike, and when sepa-
rated from the sun it began to gather in on itself, in most
cases forming rings, which in time were to alter into the
lesser spheres — the moons. The earth and all the planets
lying further away from the sun have these little bodies
about them, but in one case, as if to show the stages of crea-
tion, the unbroken ring remains, forming the magnificent
circles which girdle Saturn. When, in the history of these
wonderful processes of growth which have taken place
in our solar system, our earth parted from the shrinking
sun, the separate life of the sphere began. In the course
of ages it set ott' the mass of the moon, and after that pro-
cess was effected by further shrinking, it was reduced from
a body several hundred thousand miles in diameter to a
relatively small sphere. Such are the steps which led to
the birth of nnr planet.
As the earth's matter gathered into a smaller bulk, its
heat was greatly increased, so that for a time it was a hot,
shining star like the sun. Gradually, however, it parted
with so much of its heat that it, as we may say, froze over
or became covered with a solid crust which soon became
cool enough to permit the waters hitherto in the state of
steam to descend upon the surface of the sphere. AVith
this descent of the waters, which led to the formation of
the seas, another stage of great importance in the history
of the earth began. In the earlier ages the heat of the
earth, which came from within its mass, was so great that
the temperature coming from the sun was of no conse-
quence, but when the earth acquired a crust of cold rocks,
a new period began, that in which the solar heat was there-
after to be the source of most of the movements that
occurred in this limited world. Thenceforward to the pres
ent day, and yet on through the ages, the sun and earth,
are linked together in their actions in a marvellously en-
tangled way.
When the sun's heat began effectively to work on the
earth in the manner which we now behold, the winds be-
A RING THROWN FROM THE SUN FORMING A SEPARATE PLANET.
844
THE ICE SHEET WAS DEEP ENOUGH TO FLOW OVER THE TOP OF MOUNT WASHINGTON.
gau to blow, the ocean waters under their influence to cir-
culate currents, and the moisture to rise into the air to be
carried to and fro and to fall as rain. It seems likely that
these movements of air and water, which we know to be
due to the action of the sun's heat, took place at first upon
the surface which was everywhere covered by the ocean,
avast continuous sea through which the lauds had not yet
pierced, and in which living creatures had not begun to
dwell. This universal field of waters could not have long
continued, and this for the reason that certain changes iu
the earth itself brought about the creation of broad folds
on the sea-bottom, which grew upward until dry lands ruse
above the level of the waters. The way iu which this pro-
cess took place can in general be easily understood.
After the earth had cooled to the point where its outer
parts were what we term cold, and the whole of its mass
approximately solid.it remained as it does to-day, exceed-
ingly hot iu its central portions, and therefore kept on
slowly cooling. What we call the outer or crust part, he-
cause it had already become cool, had little heat to lose.
The greater portion of the temperature, which crept away
into the frigid places of the heavens, where the thermom-
eter is always some hundred degrees below the freezing-
point, came from the. interior of the sphere, lieeanse of
this cooling iu the deeper parts of the earth the mass shrunk
in its interior portion, while the outer part, losing less
heal, because it had less to lose, did not contract to any-
thing like the same extent. Thus it ra about that this
crust portion which forms the surface, and that which is
below to the depth of many miles, were forced to wrinkle in
order to tit the diminished centre. The action may be com-
pared, in a way, to what takes place when in an apple or
other similar fruit or vegetable with a distinct skin the
wafer dries out of the interior parts. The skin wrinkles, lie-
cause it has little water to lose. Let us conceive thai the'
heat which keeps the particles of matter apart in our earth
answers to the water which separates the solid portions of
the fruit, and the likeness becomes clear.
When the great wrinkles of the earth's crust were
high enough to bring their surfaces in part above the level
of the oceau, another important stage in the history ot
the sphere was begun. Before that time, the «atn « hid
the sun's heat had lifted into the air, and sent liacK to tin
earth in the form of rain, had fallen into the ocean \vh. n. .
it came without in any way affecting the solid parts of tin
crust. But now a portion of it came down on what we
call the dry laud, making the beginning of the rivers and
the lakes, and iu its course to the sea wearing away the
rocks over which it flowed, conveying the debris to the
oceans, where it served to I mild layers of rocks upon the bol
torn, which with the further upward growth of the conti-
nent might in turn rise above the sea. Thus \\e may
fairly reckon the appearance of the land aho\e the seas as
the third great event in the history of the earth.
After the earth had cooled down so that the \\alers hail
something like their present temperature, and probably
after the lands had appeared, came the fourth and. on
many accounts, the most inieiesting episode in the histon
of the planet. This was the beginning of \\hat we call life,
those little temporary gatherings of the earth's substauce
which rake shape in the form of animals ami plants. As
\et we do not know, we are not likely indeed ever to know .
just wheu or how this change from the earlier stane in
which the earth knew no living creatures to that in which
they were to abound in seas ami on land. All that has
been found out concerning the matter leads us to hdie\e
that the first steps led to the creation of very simple S)M n, -
— jellylike forms having but few of the qualities \\hidi \\e
com nl\ associate with living beings, lint th.- first steps
taken in the i in memorable ages, the others followed iu quick
succession, so that the earliest fossil remains which \\ e
find in rocks formed on the sea-bottom, a hundred million
or more years ago, show that the earth was richly p
with a lowly lite.
Probably at some time alter the lands hail risen
the sea, and hail begun to yield their waste in the form of
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
mud, sand, and pebbles, to provide strata on tlie sea-bot-
toms, volcanoes began to break forth on tlie sea-bottom and
along the margins of the continents. These strange out-
bursts, mainly of steam, but often accompanied by molten
rock, appear to owe their formation to the accumulation of
beds on the bottom of the ocean, which as they are formed
are to a great extent filled with water. Accumulated to
A thickness of many miles, the water in the lower part of
these strata gradually becomes exceedingly heated. In
the end it breaks forth in steam, having a temperature
quite as hot as molten iron, so that it may melt ordinary
rocks.
The beginning of volcanic action on the earth was
in a way important, though the event is less noteworthy
than any of those which have beeu previously remarked,
for tremendous as a volcanic eruption may be (that of
Kratakoa in 1883 shook a large part of the earth's surface,
perturbed all its atmosphere, and sent its dust to every
part of the world), they, after all, are not leading fea-
tures in the earth's history, but rather incidents. It, is
otherwise with the last great physical event in the history
of the earth, which we shall now have to consider.
As the earth became divided, so that there were a num-
ber of continents and oceans, its climate became diversi-
fied. This was in part accomplished by the changes in the
course of the ocean currents, such as our Gulf Stream; in
part, it may have been by slight variation iu the sun's heat.
However brought about, from very ancient days to the
present time large portions of the earth's surface have oc-
casionally had climatal conditions which cause the rainfall
to descend in the form of snow, the snow falling in such
quantities that it did not melt away in the summer season.
This condition now exists about either pole, and to a cer-
tain extent on the high mountains, even those of tropical
lands.
From time to time, owing to the variable adjust-
ments of climate, these periods of excessive snow have en-
duivd for ages, in which the glacial sheet has extended iu
either hemisphere far towards the equator. In our present
day the earth is just escaping from the last of these won-
derful ice epochs. At a time so recent that it may be
called a geological yesterday the greater part of Europe
and of North America was buried beneath accumulations
of snow, or rather of ice formed from it, the. sheets having
iu places the depth of u mile or more, and, according to
their strange nature, moving slowly over the surface, crush-
ing and grinding the rocks as they went, until the ice
either reached the sea, where it would float off as icebergs,
or a place on the land where it was far enough south to be
melted away.
On the surface of North America the ice sheet, the rem-
nant of which still covers Greenland, expelled all life from
the region of Canada and the United States from a line a
little to the east of the Rocky Mountains, and in general
north of the Ohio and the Mississippi rivers to the sea-coast.
It was deep enough to How over the top of Mount Wash-
ington in New Hampshire, and a primitive man (for there
were such in those days) might possibly have journeyed
over all the realm without discerning the least trace of the
earth's cock surface, for even the higher mountains were
buried.
We do not yet know bow many of these glacial periods
t here have been, or whether they occur at the same time in
both the northern and southern hemispheres, but it is clear
that they have been of frequent occurrence. Iu the inter-
vals between the ice epochs warm conditions appear to
have prevailed even up to the pole of the hemisphere,
which was shortly afterwards to experience the dreadful
winter of an ice-time. Thus, at a period which in its geo-
logical sense, was not long before the last glacial epoch, the
Greenland district bore a forest much like that which now
exists in parts of the Southern States of this country. It
seems probable from the history of the past that the next
revolution iu our northern hemisphere will dissipate the
ice about the arctic pole, and make a wide realm now uniii-
liabitahlc to man tit for his use.
The foregoing little sketch of a feiv of the great events
•of the earth's history does not take into account the great-
est of them all, the coining of man. But the conditions
which surround the appearance of this flower of the earth
are as yet so imperfectly known that they cauuot well be
considered.
HINTS TO YOUNG BOTANISTS.
MY CAROLINE A. CREEVY.
ROOTS.
TXT HEN we are about to do a thing thoroughly and sys-
VV tematically we often say we will "begin at the root
of the matter." That is because the root of a plant is sup-
posed to be the first thing in its life. It is indeed the
foundation, the substructure of a plant, but not strictly
the first thing that starts to grow. The little stem feels
the first quiver of life, and the root follows. You can see
the little stem, or eanlifle,\n fat seeds like squash and
melon, beans aud pease. Split a squash seed, aud between
the two fat sides the caulicle lies cozily tucked, like a tiny
tail or handle. Plant a squash seed in the earth. The
caulicle, fed by the two fat sides, pushes its way upward
into the air, making a stem with leaves, and finally a big
vine, while from its lower end the root develops and pushes
itself as fast as possible into the earth.
The roots of some plants are small. I think most weeds
make pretty large and strong roots, which are Lard to pull
up. But when a tree has grown to its full size its roots
are almost as large as its branches. I once saw a fiue old
maple-tree cut down, and its roots dug up to make room
for a cellar. I was surprised to see what a big hole the
roots made. Two men dug for several days before they
had the roots all up.
The work for the roots to do is to drink water. The
upper half of the plant is very thirsty, and calls constantly
for water. The roots push aud dig into the moist soil,
drink in water, and pass it up by a sort of pumping pro-
cess. Only think, drinking and pumping! That is what
roots do. And so if the earth is dry, and the roots can
liuil nothing to drink, the plant will die. But after a
shower see how glad the leaves seem, and how stiff and
straight they stand, because the roots are sucking up great
draughts of water.
To protect roots iu their hard burrowing work a little
cap of hard cells is fitted over their tips. Little hairs
grow all over them, whose purpose is to help absorb mois-
ture.
Some thick and fleshy roots are good to eat. They form
many of our best vegetables. Beets, turnips, parsnips, aud
carrots are such roots. They belong to biennial or two-
year plants. The first year they store up food iu their
roots; the second year draw upon this food, aud produce
flowers aud fruit. They are named from their shapes.
Fusiform, like radishes, when thicker in the middle, taper-
in.n at both cuds. Carrots are cow ical, thicker at the top.
Turnips bulge out in the middle, and are napiform. When
clustered like a dahlia the roots are fawk-lt-J. All are tup-
roots, or main roots. Besides these primary roots there are
ercoudary. You may have noticed secondary roots spring-
ing from the joiuts of a corn - stalk above ground. The
wonderful banyan-tree sends down roots from its branches,
making new trees, until one tree is the mother of a colony.
There are plants which take their nourishment from the
air alone, and not from the soil. They need roots as hold-
fasts, not as drinking-cups. Some lovely orchids grow in
that way. Those leathery patches which you have seen
on old fence-rails and rocks are lichens. They have roots
for attachment only, and such are called aerial root*.
Then there are cl'im bing rootlets. Look at the poison-
ivy, but do not touch it, and you will see it climbing over
tree -trunks and fence- posts by means of rootlets. The
trumpet-creeper will show yon the same thing. These
rootlets are very strong, us you will find if you try to pull,
us I did once, a trumpet-creeper out of a grape-vine.
A large class of plants are beggars and thieves. This is
a hard thing to say of them, but what would yon call them
when they press their roots into the bark of other plants
and suck their sap, which is the same to the plant as life-
840
HARPER'S HOI'M) TABLE
blood? Why can't tliey dig in the soil I'm- themselves?
Some of these plants wear line clothes, and look innocent
enough. There is the beautiful yellow fox-glove. Many
times I have seen it, tall and showy on hill-sides and in
woods. But they were root- parasites, that is, fastened
by their roots on the roots of other plants, sucking juices
dishonestly. The delicate purple gerardia sometimes does
the same thing. So, yon SIT, appearances are deceptive,
arid in plants, as well as people, yon cannot always tell
character from the outside.
"TucraassHBi
PUDDING
STICK
...J^,-.3Cb,.^rfx--^«-^ ^iaK*&-
This Dejmrtmt
be plenserf to tin
address Editor,
.Illiji-i t ;
V..Hi,-\V.i,,u.,i.ni,,l thrEiliti.nvil1
i possible. Correspondents should
IT does not surprise me to find a number of bright girls
asking for directions about the entrance to the difficult
road of authorship. It. is quite common for young people
to think that nothing on earth can be so delightful as to
write songs and stories, and have them published for the
world to read. The fact, dear girls', that many of you
overlook, is that no trade or profession or business is ever
learned without time, study, and effort — what I might call
the serving of an apprenticeship. Very few authors suc-
ceed at the beginning, although there is a contrary impres-
sion. Even those who seem at once to achieve eminence
have really been getting ready for their work all their
lives. Von can see what I meau if you will read Miss Al-
cotl's Lift' uiitl Li tiers, ar- Mrs. Burnett's story of Tin' Our I
Kiiriu I lie lii'xt of -III, or, better than either, a charming little
essay by Roliert Louis Stevenson, in which he describes the
books lie read as a boy, and the pains he took to cultivate
a good and clear style.
IT is perfectly right for any reader of the ROUND TABLE
to wish to become an author. In days to come the youth-
ful Knights and Ladies for whom Kirk Muuroe, Ellen
Douglas Deland. \V. J. Henderson, Captain Charles King,
and your friend of the Pudding Stick are now writing, will
be grown men and women, and some of them will be fur-
nishing the literature of the next generation. I cannot
say too strongly to all my correspondents, who are inter-
ested in this subject, be patient, be fearless, be thorough.
Do not be in haste to send some busy editor the story which
you have just written. Never send anything to an editor
until you have written it four or five times over, and are
satisfied that it is the very best thing that yon can do, and
that it is expressed in the briefest possible compass. A
very good school for aspiring young authors is found in the
beautiful little amateur papers which many young people
publish for circulation among their friends. The several
school and college literary papers arc also excellent fields
for beginners in journalism. Among the rising authors
of the day I know a half-dozeu whoso first laurels were
gained in school and college magazines.
I WOULD like to suggest that some of you who belong
to Round Table Chapters should try the plan of having a
little paper in connection with your Chapter. You could
easily appoint one member of the Chapter the editor, then
different girls and boys could furnish contributions. In
every neighborhood there are a great many interesting
things happening from day to day, so that your local col-
nmu°might be very spicy and entertaining. You could
<nve your paper an attractive name, and should any of the
members possess a typewriter you could have as many
copies made each week as you have subscribers. Perhaps
somebody among your friends has a little hand-press mi
which the little 'paper could be printed. Subscribers
would be willing to pay two or three cents for a number
of the paper, and thus you could have a little fund over
uses for the charities of the Chapter. Wouldn't, that
be charming? I cannot enter into all the litllc details of
such an enterprise, but if any of you shall adopt Ihis sug-
gestion I hope to hear all about il, and to know whether
yon think that il pays. I once knew a family in which a
little home paper was kept up for years, each brut her and
sister in turn acting as editor, and dillerenl members of
the household copying out the matter. They had a serial
story, which ran on in the most exciting \va\ tor a long
lime, and on Saturday evenings father, mother, children,
and friends always assembled to read and listen to the
new number. This paper was called Tlir /,'HM/ /;<•<-.
A I'KW sentences ago I said, let mo know if yon think it
pays. Speaking of payment, do not make tin- mistake of
supposing that I principally mean payment in dollars and
cents. The money one earns by writing is the smallest part
of the pleasure it gives. Several girls inquire of me what
price they ought to put, on their poems and stories, and
what sort of letter they should send with a contribution
•when addressing an editor. All that is really necessar\ in
the case is to write your full name and post-office address
plainly at the top of your opening page, in the right-hand
corner. In brackets at the other side you may, if you choose,
write "ottered at usual rates." Be sure always to write
only on one side of your paper, to send a folded and never
a rolled manuscript, to have it typewritten, if you can ; if
not, to have your writing very legible, and to send an enve-
lope addressed to yourself, and enough stamps to pay return
postage should your manuscript be declined. The stamps
may be loose, or may be attached to the envelope, as yon
prefer. As a rule the first contributions of young people
are worth very little money, and it is not good form to set
a price on what you write unless you are an author of as-
sured reputation. You must remember that, publishers-
pay for work according to its market value, just as we
pay for sugar and soap, and calico and note-paper, chairs-
and tables, or anything else we buy. When you go to a
shop you always try to get good value for the money you
give in return for goods. It is the same with articles and
poems which are ottered to the press. Hundreds and thou-
sands of people are writing, and you must expect to face
difficulties and have a struggle before yon find your place,,
even if you are very well prepared for it.
I WOULD like the Chapters of the ROUND TABLE which
have paid me the honor of naming themselves for me to
write me a letter through their secretaries. I have a reason
far asking this favor. I would also like to receive copies
of amateur papers, published by young people who read I lie
ROUND TABLE.
0
expenses for the charities
ON BOARD THE ARK.
BY ALBERT LEE.
I'll A I'TK i: III.
rriOMMY often wondered afterwards why it \\:is that lie
\_ did not feel frightened when he found himself so i lose
to this great congress of wild animals. But at the time lie
did not feel in the least alarmed, and he ami 1 1 x-Pirate
sat together for some time under the oak planning as to
what they had better do. Perhaps Tommy felt no fear, be-
cause all the animals seemed to lie on such good icrms
with one another, and so gave evidence that they would
not harm any one else. The little bo\ noticed the Lion
and the Lamb lying down together; the Fox was pla\ ing
tag with the Geese ("Ko\ and (iccse, 1 suppose," thought
Tommy); the Red Wolf Has strolling about, aim in arm,
with a bearded Goat and his kids: and hall' a do/en Mice
were having all sorts of fun with an old Tom Cat wh»
wanted to sleep.
"I guess the only thing for us to do," remarked the cs-
Pirate at last, •• is to just walk over and go aboard, Ther. '-
no use sitting here any longer. We have not any iiiu-
847
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
'WHAT AKE YOU DOING UP I1ERE? WHY AREN'T YOU OUTSIDE?1'
brellas, and it is liable to begin to rain at any moment.
Let's try our luck."
"Perhaps it would be best for us to walk around to the
other side," suggested Tommy. " There doesn't seem to be
so many animals there."
His companion approved of this, and they started oft"
together, making a circuit which soon brought them to
the other side of the huge house-boat. There were scarce-
ly any beasts in sight, and so they boldly approached the
great craft which towered high up above their heads.
When they had come quite close, the ex-Pirate's keen eye
caught sight, of a small port-hole near the stern, and after
calling Tommy's attention to it they decided to try to get
in that way. The port-hole was very narrow, and it was
with the greatest difficulty that the two managed to
squeeze through. But they succeeded, nevertheless, and
found themselves in a sort of dark chamber where, there
was a ladder that led to the upper regions of the Ark.
"We're all right now," said the ex-Pirate. "Do yon
think this will be too much for yon ?"
"What?" asked Tommy, who did not quite understand.
"The ladder."
"Not a bit. Why:"'
" It's more than you."
"How do you mean?" asked the little boy, now some-
what puzzled.
"You are a lad, aren't you ?" said the ex-Pirate.
" Yes."
"Well, this is a ladder."
There was not anything that Tommy could very well
answer to any such statement ; but then he had long since
given up any idea of following the peculiar arguments and
reasonings of the ex-Pirate. Yet in order to show him
that, even if the ladder was more than he, he was certainly
equal to climbing it. he seized the rungs and clambered up.
It ended at a trap-door which, when lifted, opened into a
very large room that appeared to occupy the entire length
of the Ark.
"Aha!" exclaimed the ex-Pirate. "This is where they
have the boxing-matches."
"Will they have any?" asked Tommy, eagerly, and his
eyes opened very wide.
"I don't know," returned the ex-Pirate, " but this is the
spar-deck."
"Ho\v did you get here?" suddenly asked a familial-
voice from behind them, which so startled Tommy that he
almost stepped into the
open trap. When lie look-
ed around lie saw, to his
great joy, that it was the
Sheep.
" Oh, we just came," an-
swered the ex -Pirate,
quickly. "Things come
and things go, you
know."
" Yes, I've heard that be-
fore," interrupted the
Sheep. " But if Noah
catches you, he'll put you
ashore.''
" But we don't want to
go ashore,'' said Tommy,
who at seeing his old
friend the Sheep had en-
tirely recovered from his
momentary alarm.
" Well, I'm very busy
now, "continued the latter,
"and the animals will be
coining in pretty soon. If
you want to see them, you
had better go up to the
other end of the Ark and
sit on a rafter over the
entrance. But don't let
the Bull see yon. He's iu a
mighty bad humor. Good-
by," and the Sheep trotted off and disappeared almost as
suddenly as he had come.
" Guess we'd better do that," said the ex-Pirate, medita-
tively. " We don't want to get put out." So they walked
to the other end of the big room, being very careful to
make as little noise as possible, and when they came to
the large arched entrance with the heavy bolted doors the
ex-Pirate helped Tommy climb up a post, and the two slid
out on a rafter, from which they could obtain a first-rate
view of anything that might happen. Just below where
they sat, and directly opposite them, was a wiudow with a
small counter iu front of it and the words "Ticket Office"
painted over it. Below the counter, nearer the floor, was
another window, only smaller — "for the little animals, I
suppose," thought Tommy. When their eyes had become
accustomed to the semi-obscurity of their surroundings
they found that they were not the only occupants of bal-
cony seats. A few feet away from them sat a Gopher. He
wore a pink sun-bonnet, and looked somewhat timidly at
the intruders. As soon as the ex-Pirate saw him, he said:
"What are you doing up here? Why aren't you out-
side .'"
"Lost my ticket," answered the Gopher, timorously.
"Lost your ticket?" repeated the ex-Pirate.
"Yes, sir," continued the little animal, meekly. "Not
exactly lost. it. I put it iu my mouth, and forgot, and
swallowed it. I've got it inside."
"Oh," said the ex-Pirate. "Well, you'll get it back as
soon as we start."
"Please may I stay ?" asked the Gopher.
" Why. certainly," replied the ex-Pirate, affably, waving
his hand in a grandiose way, just as if he had been the
proprietor of the Ark ; whereupon the Gopher looked much
pleased and relieved, and settled down comfortably again
at his end of the rafter.
Just then the shutter of the ticket window was thrown
up with a loud hang that made Tommy jump, and the Bull
stuck his head out and peered up and down the large room.
He was a very fierce-looking Bull, and he wore on his head
a cap with the word "Purser" embroidered on it in gold
letters.
"All aboard!" he bellowed, in a voice that fairly made
the timbers tremble, and scared the Gopher half out of his
wits. And then some one from the outside opened the
heavy doors and the animals began coming in.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
848
ilNTERSCHOIIASTIC
'dSPORTi
THE ANNUAL MEET of the American Canoe Association,
which is now in progress on Lake Champlaiu, is de-
cidedly the most important sporting event of the year to
canoe lovers. For the past week hundreds of enthusiasts
have been paddling and sailing and racing off Bluff Point,
and every known kind of canoe has been seen on the water.
It is only twenty-live years since canoeing as a sport found
favor in this country, but since then it has grown steadily,
and now there are cauoe clubs in every State. Although
the cauoe, both as a paddling and a sailing craft, is dis-
tinctly American in its origin, it is a fact, nevertheless, that
cauoe cruising and the sport of cauoe sailing were intro-
duced from England. About thirty years ago a Scotchman
named John MacGregor built a canoe, which he called the
Soh Soy. It resembled an Esquimau kayak, being low and
narrow and decked all over, except for a narrow space in
the middle. It had a small lateen-sail, but the mode of pro-
pulsion used most by MacGregor was his two-bladed pad-
dle. In this queer little boat he explored many of the
waters of Great Britain, and cruised extensively in Holland,
Germany, Norway, and Sweden, meeting with many adven-
tures, an account of which he afterwards published under
the title of A Thousand titles in the Bob Soy Canoe. He
has also written several other interesting accounts of other
trips. The most delightful account ever writteu of a cauoe
cruise, however, is Stevenson's Inland Journey. Any young
ALTHOUGH MR. VAUX, one of the must experienced of
canoeists, said, "There is no such tiling as a lirst eaiuie,"
he did not mean that there was no such thing as the best
•
BIRCH-BARK CANOES.
SAILING BEFORE THE WIND.
kind of canoe for certain purposes. He was particulariz-
ing. He meant that it was impossible for any man to tell
another what particular make of canoe would suit his
tastes best. It really depends entirely on what you want
to do with your boat. If you wish to cruise in inland
lakes and deep open rivers where there is plenty of wind,
but no very heavy seas, and where you will use sail and
paddle in about equal proportion, get a canoe of the " Nau-
tilus" type. But for narrow streams and running rapids
I should recommend a " Peterborough." The latter are
of different sizes aud varieties, and are built at the Cana-
dian town of Peterborough. They are modelled after the
Indian birch - bark canoe, aud are made of basswood or
cedar. They cost from $:iO to $50, according to finish, aud
are very serviceable. The basswood boats are not so liable
to leak as others.
ANOTHER ADVANTAGE OF THE " Peterborough " is that it
will carry more passengers and duthV than any other style
of cauoe, and can easily be carried over land or around
locks if yon are travelling along a caual. It is easy to
paddle, sails fast before the wind, and is the best craft in
man who has the slightest inclination toward the sail and , ,
the naddle will surely take them up with enthusiasm after the world to shoot rapids. At uight it can be drawn up
reading these books. ou. shore and turned upside down, thus making a dry aud
THE CHOICE OF A CBAFT is always dif-
ficult, especially to one who has had lit-
tle or no experience in couoeing. I told
last week how an inexpensive canoe
might be built of canvas, but for cruis-
ing purposes a boat made of wood is
necessary. It is taken for granted that
auy one who can afford the time for a
cruise can also afford the money to pur-
chase a suitable craft for his journey.
A good cedar canoe nowadays costs
from $80 to $150, but boats made of
less-expensive woods may be had for as
little as $30. The building of these
li-lit canoes has become such a big busi-
ness that there are over fifty varieties
made now where there were only half
a dozen fifteen years ago. But in spite
of all the varieties there are only about
three classes— tbe racing-canoe, the pad-
dling canoe, and the cruising canoe—
•which use both sail aud paddle.
849
HAKPER'S EOUND TABLE
comfortable shelter. Tlie "Nautilus" style of canoe is
from twenty-eight to thirty iuches wide and about fifteen
feet long. It is fitted with a centreboard, and is an excel-
lent cruising craft. It will curry one person comfortably,
and two at a pinch, and the air-tight compartments forward
and aft make it a life-boat, uusiukable. Beneath the decks
and hatches there is plenty of room for dry stowage. At
night the owner of a "Nautilus" canoe can either haul his
craft ashore or anchor in deep water. In the latter case,
he, hoists his canoe tent above his head, unfolds his mat-
tress, and sleeps comfortably in the cockpit. Personally,
however, I prefer to land and pitch camp.
IT is ALWAYS ADVISABLE to select your camping-ground
and be in camp before sunset. Pnll the canoe up out of
water, take, your duffle out, and turn the boat upside down
over it. Then make your fire ; see that there is no danger
of its spreading, and that the breeze is blowing the sparks
away from your camp or your canoe. The fire well started,
take a pail and a glass jar and go to the nearest farm-honse
for milk and eggs. When you get back, you will find that
the tire has made' a nice bed of coals on which you can do
your cookiug. Never attempt to cook over a blaze. It
sometimes happens, however, that the ground is wet, or
CKU1SING CANOE UNDER PADDLE.
that a storm will interfere with your fire. For such emer-
gencies it is well to have an alcohol lamp in your outfit,
for on this you can boil enough water to cook eggs and
make a cup of cofi'ee, and if you are an expert with a (.'hat-
ing dish yon can rival the best of city restaurants. But it
is not probable that yon will have such a luxury as a chaf-
ing dish among your equipments. Yon will probably have
a saucepan instead — in fact it is necessary that you should
have a saucepan. And with a little practice you can cook
almost anything in the latter that you can in a chafing dish.
The other necessary cooking utensil is a coffee-pot. With
that and the saucepan and a small kettle yon can live
very comfortably. There are a number of small books of
convenient pocket size that will tell yon all yon want to
know about camp cookiug. This is a good subject to study
up before starting on a cruise.
THE SUPPLIES THAT A CANOEIST takes with him in his
boat should consist of a. few pounds of sugar, a box of salt,
three or four pounds of ground coffee in a tin box with a
close-fitting screw top, some bacon, a pound of tea, a couple
of jars of marmalade or jam, a tin of deviled ham, and a
pound or two of pilot-bread or hardtack. There will be
lots of place.-, along the course of your cruise where you
will be able to replenish these stores should they run short .
and at the villages yon pass you can secure fresh meal if
you care for it or are skilful enough cook to prepare it.
Always lia\e a line and some fish - hooks with you, for a
canoeist should be a good fisherman.
A MESS-CHEST ISA GOOD THING to have if you are travel-
ling in a " Peterborough." This is a tin box three feet
long, one foot high, and about eighteen inches wide. Its
RACING CANOE.
top should have a,
cover of painted
canvas, wit li Haps
that will come
down over the
edges. In this
box your provis-
ions and a change
of under -clothes
may be kept per-
fectly dry. Car-
ry plenty of
matches and a
good lantern.
Your matches
should be kept in
a. glass jar with a screw top — an old preserve jar is just
the thing. Then they cannot get damp.
As TO THE CHUISE ITSELF, it should be carefully planned
beforehand. Never start off with only a general idea of
where you want to go. It is a bad thing to trust to luck
in canoeing. Plan your trip so that yon will start at the
head of some river, or as near the head as yon can find
good water, and cruise down. Don't, attempt to cover too
great a distance in one day. Twenty-five miles a day is
enough, and is more than you will care to make if most of
it has to be paddled. Further — never hurry. Take plenty
of time to fish, bathe, land, visit the country, and eat
your meals regularly. If you have only a certain number
of days to devote to your cruise, lay out the distance you
must cover each day, and try to stick to your schedule as
closely as camping-grounds will allow. Keep a record of
your adventures in a log-book; this will prove not only
interesting but valuable in the future.
No ONE SHOULD EVER THINK of taking a canoe cruise un-
less he can swim. The canoeist gets too many upsets to
risk venturing into deep water unless he can take care of
himself. It is a good thing to practise upsetting in shal-
low water, so as to learn how to climb back into your boat
again. Having fallen into the stream or the lake, which-
ever it may be, swim back to your canoe and seize the side
nearest to you at the middle with your left, hand. Then
reach across the cockpit to the opposite gunwale with your
rifjit, and extend your body horizontally on the surface of
the water. By a quick motion you cau easily draw your-
self across the cockpit and into the canoe again. It is well
to keep your paddle tied to a thwart with a stout string
long enough not to interfere with your work. Then it can-
not float away when you upset.
THE SAILS MOST COMMONLY used on canoes are the leg-
of-mutton sail and the standing lug. On racing canoes
you usually see the bat sails — but racing canoes are mere
machines that are not good things to have or to imitate,
and tlie better element
among canoeiugsportsmen
to-day are frowning them
down. A leg -of- mutton
sail requires a tall mast,
which some canoeists re-
gard as a serious objec-
tion. The sail, ho\ve\ er,
runs to such a small point
aloft that there is really .
very little surface exposed
to the wind, and very little STANDING LDG.
weight up there. It is the
most simple form of sail, too. and can be easily raised i^ud
lowered, or reefed, and is, I believe, the sates! kind of a sail
for a canoe. It can be used to very good advantage on a
boat of the " Nautilus" type.
FOK A CANOE of the "Peterborough" type the best kiud
of a sail is the standing Ing. It is very nearly square (and
if you want to manufacture one yourself you can make it
square), and very good for ruuuiug before the wind. It is
LEG-OF-MUTTON.
850
easily managed, and serves admirably as a
tent or awning when yon are camping with
your canoe turned up for shelter.
ONE OF THE GUEATEST PLEASURES of C3
noeing is that the impressions yon <'et are
BO vivid and real. All the world seems so
big and strong. Your crafr is so tiny that
everything else appears to be very lar«-e.
A breeze that would be welcome to a yacht
is a gale to a canoe, and what are moderate
waves to a sail -boat of ordinary size are
heavy seas to a "Peterborough." And then,
in a canoe, yon are your own captain and
your own crew. You can go as close in-shore
as you wish, and the panorama that passes
by you is so near that you almost feel you
can touch the fields and hills, or pick up the
cows from the pastures and put them dow ,,
again. And then the expense of eai ing-
is so moderate. You can live ou your voy-
ages at the rate of about fifty cents a, day
You carry your house along with you; youi
only expenses are for provisions. I should
be glad to give more space to the sul.jeet,
but while I believe that a great many of
the readers of these columns are interested
in canoes — or would l,e if they had ever
tried one— I realize, too, that there are oth-
ers who are just-as eager for bicycling and
cat-boat sailing and mountain climbing and
hunting and fishing. And to them I shall
talk later. But if there is anything about
canoes that any reader of the ROUND TABLE
desires to know, I shall be glad to reply to
his questions.
FOOTBALL PKACTICE has begun in Cali-
fornia. The school term opens iu August ou
the Coast, and the football men of the Aca-
demic Athletic League are already ou the
gridiron. The Oakland High-School eleven
promises to be a strong oue again this year
in spite of losses by graduation. Lynch will
probably fill McDonnell's place at tackle,
and Walton will no doubt play half-back.
Euss, the clever half- miler, is trying for
quarter. He is nof particularly apt at the,
game, and is too good a track athlete to risk
his legs in a scrimmage. If the O.H.-S. Cap-
tain can find another man for the position,
it will be best for the general welfare of the
school's sport to keep Russ on the cinder
track. C'hickcring will be on the end again.
and Guppy is pretty sure to hold the other
flank.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
man signs a business letter when writing to
"""•'••"-'I these can be answered in due
mere! !,!•' w'iT C°m6 SiS'"''1 wi"' initi:'''s
addresses. LstTt^esf wrTt'erTe^pectme
t° answer them through the coin inns of the
"••I-"""...!.*. This is not always possible
or advisable. The subjects .spoke!, of in
the letters may not be of sufficient general
interest to deserve space here, yet they maj
be of sufficient importance lo warrant '-, per
sonal reply. I always cn(i(,;mn. t(, .„.,.,„,„
ledge in some way all the letters that , -
to the Department, hut I can not promise to
answer anonymous coinn ications.
'I'm-: (iu.Mii ATI:.
CAPTAIN ANDERSON WILL KEHP his old
position at full-back. He has speed, endur-
ance, and pluck; he runs low, uses good
judgment, and plays hard all the time.
His principal fault is that he runs too far
out in circling the ends. It is better foot-
ball to make for a hole and to depend on
your end rush to hold the opposite end off.
A down inside the end is better than a hard
runaway around with the risk of beiug forced
beyond the line. A two-inch gain is better
than a run across the field. What the team
needs most is a good punter and place kicker,
and the ends ought to learn to get down the
field quicker on punts, and to follow the ball
better than they do now.
A GREAT MANY LKTTF.ks come to this
Department every week asking questions
and- making suggestions. .Most of them arc-
signed by the writers, just as any gentle-
Thi, n. i , , iact,
:ollectors, an,] the Eiliior will be pi
f«*InepaDbe^"™f".a*PO*8lb''i' °m*m*M*a*»M*ta<
high prices for the Great Britain 4d.,
red or blue paper, garter water-mark'
quoted in the ROUND TABLE, No. 821 Ins
stimulated the readers of this Department
to look over their collec-
fions, and several think they
have the rare varieties, lint
are notcertaiu thatthey know
the difference between the,
three garter water- marks.
Therefore, I gi ve fac-similes of
all three — small, medium, and
large garters. There is not
only a difference iu size be-
tween the medium and the large, but also a
slight difference iu the design. There must
be many copies of these stamps, as bhej
were quite common for many years, and
prices did not advance much 'until about
1888. They are frequently found in old col-
lections.
THE newest development in the collection
'•stamps Minn of plate niimhers and
san.psshouingall or part of the imprint.
U""\ I-.i-KlU. Mamps hearths plate ,
berson thestamps themselves Inif tbeU.S
ll;^ Dever followed this example. Collec-
'"'s "'"' have a chi e k ovei
r"""1'" "" ^" "' theii post office, should
'"V "' '"•"•'" stamps they can find
"itl, the anginal imprint and plate nnm-
,'.';' '•:'.'"ll"> ""•"!:» for future exchange
.I'"-- is especially true of all the Stanipf
issued previous to L890. Many of the
smaller offices have stamps of previo,
Biies. Only the other day a collector bonghl
>f a local postmaster complete sheets of
several 1870 issues, and abouf a rear aeo a
sheet of M;«...M,-..«.,,I w aj ( I
SOld immediately for $200.
S.S.S.S. These four initials stand lor the
^Society for the Suppress! f Speculative
fetamps, whirl, hasjusteondcn ,1 the fol-
«-mg issues as not woitln of collection :
Portugal •• San Antonio" Centennial Stamps,
tne4,10,20,30,and40c.8nrcharged on the
'"»• dollar stamp of North Borneo and I -,-
buan, and the various Chinese locals.
THE annual meet of the American Phila-
telic Association is about to hold its con-
vention at Clayton, N.Y. I, 8een,8 prob-
able that Mr. Tiffany, of St. Louis, will re-
tire from the presidency, and Mr. Alvah
Davison be elected in his place. 'J )„. 8O.
ciety now numbers about 1-jliii members
put lately has not occupied the command-
ing position it formerly held.
J. O. P.— No premiums on the coins mentioned.
CONSTANT RKAWII..— It is the St. Anthony Jnliilee
issued by Portugal. It has litll,- value, ,,s Ih.-se slampg
were made for the purpose of ».\\wt, „, collectors
primarily, and for postal i;si- necnndarily I
think Portugal will fiud it very profitable,
are growing shy of philatelic Irash.
A. B. STKKN, Asbury Park.— It is a medal or t,,keil
not :i coin, and it has no money value.
J. V. D. -Priest's Pui.l 1),-N,:,,, I, stamp i* wo.th
from S5 to $20, according to varu-ty a..d i-onditiou
The ISIS half-dollar is raid hy dealers hu-;.v.
F. M. I,, n.-ulc-i-s iju.,1,. n
I.NTKIIKSTtl) liKAPE.-.. -Y.Mir Ollill l> l-ith.-r A.l-h i HI
or Russian, probably the. iu>t. TI,,. value It
N- ''• ''• ! hen are four vaM.-ii.-.s ,,i n,,. i^H- ,111(1
Bve varieties ,,i the I-.M-J i,-. «..i-iii n.,m -jn i,. ;.-„- TI,,.
"Army ami Navy" i> nut a ,
"i token. Th'-i. . , ;i sands •
these luki-ns issued from IsC.I n, ;-,
I'm,
Highest of all in Leavening Power. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Baking
Powder
HARPER'S M \\ CM M ".,1 I
by mail tu any .uJdn
851
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Bicycle route
airbicycleroad
Railway station
f'l t^Hill orpoorroac
BICYCLING
This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, an.l the Editor will be pleased to
.newer uny question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly
nil). lied from the official injifis anil road-books of the League of American Wheelmen. Recog-
lizing the value of the work being done by the L A. W., the Editor will be pleased to furnish
ubscribera with membership blanks and information so far as possible.
fTlHIS week we have divided the trip from Philadelphia
I to Atlantic City into two parts, of thirty -one and
thirty- five miles each. It is perfectly possible for a
good rider to go from Philadelphia to Atlantic City in
cue day, but if he can take two days to it, the ride will
be pleasauter, he will see more of the country, and he car*
then take the train back to Philadelphia instead of riding
the return.
LEAVING Philadelphia by Market Street, go east, across
the ferry to Camden, and thence proceeding by Federal
Street turn into Haddou Avenue. Upon reaching Line
Street, keep to the left until the city line is reached ; then
take the right fork. The rider passes through Collings-
wood, Haddonfield, Greenland, to Kirkwood, a distance of
ten miles or more over a reasonably good road, though not
of the best nor in the best condition. Keep to the left in
going out of Kirkwood, and be careful of the railroad cross-
ing, which is a bad one. After passing over this crossing,
turn to the right at the paint works, passing by Lakeside
Park to Gibbsboro, a distance of two miles. Here the
grade is very good, but the road is in a pretty bad condi-
tion, aud the rider had better keep to the side paths when
outside of the town. From Gibbsboro to Berlin is four
miles over a gravel road not in any too good condition, and
side paths will again be a boon. The road is direct. It is
also direct through Wilton to Blue Anchor, a distance of
eight miles. There will be no difficulty in recognizing the
road, it being very straight, and in most cases showing by
its size, as compared with branch roads, which is the main
road.
RUNNING out of Blue Anchor, the rider takes the middle
road of three forks, and shortly after passing this main fork
he arrives at another, where, keeping to the left, he runs-
two miles into Winslow Junction. Crossing the track, he
will find the road to Rosedale, a distance of a mile and a
half, still gravel and not in the best of condition, but it is.
prrfeftly easy to tell which is the correct road. At Rose-
dale the tracks are crossed again at the station, aud the
run into and through Hammoutou is made, the road bting
pretty good if yon keep to the side paths. This makes in
all about thirty or thirty-one miles, and the rider can stop at
Hammontou for the night, though there are very few good
accommodations, or even passable ones, to be found any-
where on the route from Philadelphia to Atlantic City;
but the lack of good accommodations is really the one ob-
jection to making a two-days-trip of the Atlantic City
route.
A WOHD should lie said here as to riding long distances.
Any oue who practises on a bicycle, i. e., any one who rides
a certain number of miles a day fur a certain number of
days, depending on the particular make-up of the individual,
will get himself into such a condition that he can ride any
reasonable distance ; i. e., up to one hundred miles in a day.
It is not, therefore, a particularly desirable or difficult-to-
be-attained facility to ride long distances in a day. Some
men like to ride long distances fast; others like to ride a
short distance fast, and then stop and walk or make a de-
tour; while still others like to do a certain amount, say
thirty or forty miles, taking a whole day for it, at a slow gait.
MOTH.— Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of
route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
Connecticut, in No. 811. New York lo Staten Island in No. 812. New
Jcrs.'v trom Hobokell to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814.
Brooklyn to Bahylon in No. SIS. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816.
Tarrytown to Poii^hkeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsie to liudeon iu
No 818. Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Totti-iiville lo Trenton in 820.
Trenton to Philadelphia in 821. Philadelphia in No. 822. Philadelphia
- WNsahickon Koute iu No. 823. Philadelphia to West Chester in No.
S24.
Any questions in regard to photoEraph matters will be willingly
answered by the Editor of this column, and we should be gl«d to hear
from any of our club who can make helpful suggestions.
PAPERS FOR BEGINNERS, NO. 12.
PRINTING AND TONING.
THERE are so many brands of sensitive
paper on the market, and they are so
cheap, fresh, evenly sensitized, and easy of
manipulation, that it is a waste of time and
money for the amateur to attempt to pre-
pare his own. Even professional photog-
raphers are taking advantage of the pre-
pared papers, and huy the paper ready
sensitized.
The gelatine papers have almost entirely
taken the place of the .albumen paper, a
paper which was always hard for tin- ama-
teur to handle. The gelatine paper prints
quickly, tones easily, and many different
tones can be obtained in the same bath by
removing pictures at a longer or shorter
time. The combined toning and fixing
bath is very popular, but the real gold tones
can be obtained much better with a toning
and tixing bath prepared separately.
See that the glass side of the negative is
perfectly clean. Place it in the printing-
frame, the glass side out, adjust a piece of
sensitive paper over the film side, fasten in
the printing-frame, and expose to the light
till tile picture is a little darker than re-
quired for a finished print. As soon as it is
dark enough, remove it from the frame, and
put it in a book, aud put the book in a
drawer. Do this with each print till all are
printed. Thin negatives must be printed
in the shade, but a good negative may be
printed in direct sunlight.
For beginners who wish to use the com-
bined toning aud tixing bath, it is better to
buy it already prepared. A bottle of pre-
pared developer, which costs fifty cents, will
tone from one hundred to one hundred aud
fifty prints 4X5.
Place the prints one by one in the tray,
taking care that no air-bubbles form ou the
surface of the print. If not immediately
broken they will leave dark spots ou the
prints. As the prints tone very quickly
they must be kept in motion all the while.
The best way to secure uniform tones is to
slip the bottom print out and place it face
up on top of the others, which should be
face down iu the tray. As soou as the last
print has been turned iu this way, turn the
whole batch face down and repeat the oper-
ation. By handling the prints iu this man-
ner, the toning process is seen at once, and
as soou as a print has received the desired
tone it can be taken from the tray aud
placed in a dish of running water.
The prints should wash half au hour or
more. The color obtained in the bath will
remain. It does nut fade as does the albu-
men print on being removed from the ton-
ing bath.
The gelatine prints should be toued at
once after printing. Even if they are kepi
in a perfectly dark place, the half tones aud
high lights quickly discolor.
The separate toning baths are easily pro
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
pared. What is called the stock solution
is made as follows: 15 grs. chloride gul.l and
sod mm, H oz. of water.
Dissolve and keep in a tightly <r.,rK,-d
bottle, marked "Gold Solution." Chlorid.'
of gold and sodium comes already pivpaml
in 15 grain-quantities, and costs t'hirU cents
a bottle.
The other stock solution is a saturated
solution of bicarbonate of soda. A satu-
rated solution is a solution which contains
a little more of the substance dissolved in
it than it can hold in solution. This is
shown by a deposit ou the bottom of the
bottle.
To make the toning bath, take 3t OB. of
water in the graduating glass and add ; ••/.
of the gold solution. Dip a piece of bin.-
litmus paper into the solution, and it'll ,1,,,-s
not turn the paper red add a little more of
the gold solution until it does. Then add
ruough cif the, bh-arlmiiati- of .soda solution
till it, turns the litmus paper back to bine.
A few drops of the soda solution should 1m
added at a time, stirring the solution \\ iili
a glass rod.
Mix: the bath half an hour before wanted
for use. Place the prints in this bath with-
out previous washing, and tone till the re-
quired color is obtained. Rinse and place
in a fixing hath composed of 1 oz. of hypo-
sulphite of soda and 8 oz. of water. Leave
them in this tixing hath five minutes, then
wash for half an hour in running water.
In preparing stock solutions, label the
bottles and write the formula with direc-
tion for use ou the label. This saves time
and trouble.
In preparing chemical solutions one must
he very exact, as a little more or less of one
ingredient sometimes produces chemical
changes in the solution, rendering it useless
for the purpose for which it was intended.
PAULINB asks how to fume paper. Fuming albu-
men paper makes it easier lo print and tone. Freshly
sensitized paper does not need fuming, but paper that
has been prepared some time should be fumed before
using. To do this pin the paper inside a box, a
wooden soap-box is just the thing, and set it over a
saucer of ammonia water. Cover the box with a
blanket, aiid Jet it remain for fifteen minutes. Use at
once.
STARVED TO DEATH
in niiiist of plenty. Unfortunate, yet we tiear of it.
The Gail Burden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk is un-
doubtedly the safest and best infant food. Infant
Health is a valuable pamphlet for mothers. Send your
address to N. Y. Condensed Milk Co., N. Y.— [Ado.]
Co
Entire Stock of Misses'
and Children's fine
WASH DRESSES
$5, $7, and $9 each-
Sizes from 4 to 14 years.
NEW YORK.
Stamps,
100 all dit Venezuela, Costa Rica, etc., oulj
10c.; 200 all dif.Haytl.Hawaii.etc only MIC.
Ag'te wanted at BO pet ctcora, LintFRREI
I f\f\
I
1 *•"•'
nil different., China, etc..
411 Spain, 4(lr.; 6 Tunis. 14, ; 10 1 s Rev-
enui's, inc. Au't,-. wtd., 5I« com.; '95 list free.
CRITTENDEN & BORG MAN CO.. Detroit, Mich.
0-O-O<XX><X><K>CK>CKKX>CK>O
u
the best things in Prose and Poetry, always includ-
ing' Krood Songs aud Hymns. It is surprising how
little wood work of this kind seems to he done in
the Schools, if one must judge from the small num-
ber of people who can repeat, without mistake or
omission, as many as Three good songs or hymns-
§1 o i "~f\ r *i
bar, pl;ar|i* JLJelimk,
and accurate Memory work is a most excellent
t h i n u . whether in School ur out of it. among all ages
and all classes. Hut let that which is so learned be
worth learning and worth retaining. The 1'ranklin
Square Song Collection presents a large number of
b IJrtu jS
and Hymns, in great variriv and very carefully
selected, comprising Sixteen Hundred in thr Hipht
NmnUrs thus far issued, together with much
choice i
Music and Musicians. In the complete and
of Camlet!
s.
which is sent free oil application to the Pub!i>hcrs.
nc found du/.ens of the lirst thtni:- in the
M. \\lmh arc will worth cummin a
dd they who knmv nuist of MJ..-II .
1 I-HHIV thrill inn-'
• th-' br»l . ,!•
Thev have the U-t rrMilt , I '
Contents, with sample i>
Harper & Brothers, New Tork.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
The OrJer's Badges.
The Founders decided to have new badges and
asked for designs for the same. Old badges are
still official, and those who have llieru need not
feel call HI] upon to buy the new style. Designs
were received from about a score of members, but
almost none of the suggestions were practicable.
An old Founder, who has excellent taste in such
nuii ters, suggests an outline star; a centre the
rose from the top of the King Arthur Table, and
the letters K. L. O. R. T., one on each of the star's
five points. The star is American, and the rose
historic— a relic from the Order from which we
get our name.
There can be two styles of badges, one a silver
.stick-pin t<> cost about ten cents, and the other a
gnld and "enamel pin. same design, with pin and
catch, to cost about $1, and handsome enough to
be worn as a scarf or dress pin, instead of a pin
of any other design. When so considered, it is not
a direct outlay for the Order, since nearly every
person has and wears a pin of some sort. The de-
signs are not yet made, of course, but they will be
if the Table agrees to them. Founders need not
write unless they disapprove of the suggested de-
signs. Badges will be prepared at the earliest pos-
sible momeut, and orders filled.
* * *
A Walk in the West Indies.
The other day I took a walk among the moun-
tains wiih others of our family. We started in
the morning before the sun had time to g;iin his
full heat, and walked along the bank of a river un-
til we leached higher ground From the top of
one of the mountains wTe could see wide stretches
of blue sea, and green sugar-cane fields, and the
whole of Kingston lying in the broad v;illey far
away and beyond us We saw Port Royal and the
old Spanish ship Urgent, lying at anchor in the har-
bor.
All this we looked at as we rested, and it was
the best sort of resting, too. Then we turned
our hacks on it, and walked in the opposite direc-
tion. Higher and higher we climbed, and I found
a wild rose, a white one, growing by the pur h, and
some butterfly- weed further on — a veritable breath
of America. The path is only wide enough for
mules and donkeys, and people single file. We
met some negro women with frnit.s on their heads,
and the ground was covered with mangoes, green
and yellow, some with large bites in them, for all
the negroes eat them. Parts of the river crossed
our path, sometimes witb occasional little water-
falls ; and we drank, partly from thirst and partly
from pure pleasure in drinking water so clear and
sweet and cold.
We passed a coffee-mill with big barbecues, and
men spreading out the coffee on them with shov-
els. There seemed to be a great, deal of it, but
there are only a very few people here who have
succeeded in making their " pile '' by raising coffee.
The big mill-wheel was silent ; it is turned by water
power, and was probably out of order. I never
heard of any thing. Jamaican that wasn't the latter.
It was deliciously cool up there, with a strong wind
bii>\\ ing, and occasional small patches of shade
from thick-leaved mango-trees. There were plenty
of banana- 1 rees, but only a few palms. I'alms
$;i-ow better further down. The mountains were
becoming misty already when we turned to go
back. They generally do in tlie. afternoon.
GWICNUOLEN HAWTHORNE.
JUUDKN TOWN, JAMAICA, B. \V. I.
Hbc Ibclpmo 1ban&.
Another memorial stone, is promised for the
School Buildinu'. It is to bear the name of J. Paul
Ciiarlton. who was a Canadian Knight and a Found-
er of our Order. His uncle sends $10 to the Fund,
and says he will provide the st.one as soon as the
size is given him. The stone will cost $3 to $0.
The Table will be glad to hear from others who
m, iy wish t,o place memorial stones in the building.
It is not. lu-T.-ssarv that the person belonged in life
to the Onl'-r. \Vt- hope iiio»L uf the Chapters will
al>o give itnnif Atones.
Wnat do \ou Miink of Mr Mini roe's ;ippe;il? We
ajrree with him that - r, /•// mt.'iibtr onyht fob- /••/"''-
ou the Honor Hull. Have you forwarded
your dime yet? Let us raise the balance of this
Fund and crown our efforts with success. Ten
cents from you, will do it. We have received since
last report . Josephine Howard, 10 cents. A friend,
$1. Kirk Munroe, 10 cents. \V. A. I'harlton, Juii.,
$10. M- Le Roy Arnold, 25 cents. Harry Harper
Chapter, of Newtown, Conn., $10. A friend (K),
$10. Mary Barnes, g2. Total $33 45.
Note to Washington Members.
It is intended to have an entertainment in Wash-
ington, toward the end of September, in aid of the
School Fund, and all readers there are cordially
invited to attend. Due notice will be given of
place and exact date. Any who are willing to help
at selling tickets are asked to send word to Eliza-
beth W. Hyde, 1418 Euclid Place, N. W. The tickets
will be twenty-five cents, and the entertainment a
most attractive one.
* * *
A Sparrow's Ride.
In this city, and not far from our house, my father
owns a large mill in which is a great deal of ma-
chinery. The other day a workman, busy beside a
iiTillu\r tliiir line -r.<, i.i'. in if- Miifl :i liollotv nolle; for
olnuery. The other day a workman, uusy uesiae
pulley that has spokes in it and a hollow cone, f
a rim, noticed an English sparrow fly rapidly t
bird had gone into the pulley, me nrst wont in a
could not believe it, and so he did not stop the m;
chinery.
was found that the sparrow had made nearly twei
ty thousand revolutions, and was still unharmed.
LA.-ai.NG. JOHN U. KBTCUAM.
Help Wanted.
The Little Women Chapter, of Upper Nyack, N.
Y.,is to hold a fair in aid of the School Fund, and
asks for contributions of fancy-work and money.
It also wants kitchen aprons, fur they always sell.
Send articles, postage prepaid, to Sophie Moeller,
president, Upper Nyack, N. Y., at any lime within
three weeks. We ask the Table to help this Chap-
ter.
s> Ik in I? 5. ®
No. 95. — IN A GARDEN.
Supply blanks by mimes of plants.
A — — stood off apart,
Clad iu ber , sbe cried ;
"How can 1 stanch my —
Siuce my died?"
Often she at
To go to feed her ;
She also watered all tlie ,
And put in their .
She tried to keep a notions shop
For sale of fancy gomls.
Like — — for a ,
too, and — — .
But nothing brought or — ,
Till one an —
Gave advice that gave — .
This was his pleasant plan!
Said he, "Your • shines, and —
Your , sweet as hom'y.
Tbf re's — — , and I think
You'd best try ."
No. 96.— HOLLOW ST. AMIKEW'S Cuoss.
Upper Iff! -hand diamond.— 1. In crystal. •.' A
small fish. '•',. Ventured. 4. The e;ivi:> uf a nmf.
:>. l.xi-iini,'. ti. To ni"]sten. T. In crystal.
Upper Hghl-buid diamond.— 1. In crystal. 2 A
larire wuuilrii vrssel. 3. Pacifies. 4 Thunders.
5. Henealh. 0. To stitch. 7. IllCryslal.
Lower left-hand diamond. —1. lucrysial. ~'. The
854
end of a piece of lace. 3. Modified. 4 Fanatics.
5. Having the qualities of beer. (i. Arid. 7. In
crystal.
Lower right- band diamond.— 1. In cryslal 3.
Unci inked. 3. Committed to memory. 4. Relat-
ing to the arch-fiend. 5. Winds. C. An English
prefix meaning "separated.". 7. In crystal.
VINCKNT V. M. BEEDE.
No. 97.
First is a prinia donna.
Second is a city in Germany.
Third the capital of New Jersey.
Fourth are the celebrated falls of the United
States.
Filth is une of the five great lake ports.
Sixth is the president of the United States.
Seventh is a country in Europe.
Eighth is a well-known temperance lecturer.
Ninth is a celebrated English novelist.
Tenth is an American explorer.
My whole counted down the centre is a cele-
brated American poet. LINDA MOHIIMANN.
Answers to Kinks.
No. 93.
Name, Cromwell. 1. Craven, raven. 2 Ilink,
ink. 3. Olive, live. 4. Madder, adder. 5 Waft,
aft. 6. Event, vent. 7. Lace, ace. 8. Lair, air.
No. 93.
1. Anti -ninny. 2 Si - mony. 3. Patri - nnmy.
4. Cere-mony. 5. Matri - nnmy. 6. Ali-muny.
7. Scam • rnony. 8. Parsi -mony. 9. Acri-mouy.
10. Testi-mouy. 11. Ilar-mouy.
No. 94.
LIVE
IRON
v o i
END
D
DING
IDOL
NODE
S I N G L E N
IDOL
NOSE
DINGLEEELS
IDEA EDIT
NEAT LIME
GATE STEP
Two Facts about Germantown.
It was in GermanUHvu that the mariners' quad-
rant was invented by Thomas Godfrey in 173(1; and
that Christopher Sower, Sr., printed the flr.«t Iliiila
in America, a copy of which, with Sower's imprint.
could have been seen at the Centennial Exhibition
iu Philadelphia in 1876.
PHILADELPHIA. JOHN H. CAMPBELL, JuN.
Questions ano answers.
Charles Bellas, South Auburn, Neb., wants sam-
ples of amateur papers, and George W. Buchanan,
Searcy, Ark., wants to correspond with editors of
such papers. " O. E. S." wants us to offer prizes
for nm-ic settings. We will do so. A " member"
asks all about chicken raising. He will find this
information in a long illustrated article in the
KOUND TABLE. No. 806, which he can order through
any dealer. It is too soon to reprint it. E.stiella
E. Ulrich, age sixteen, is a member who lives at
liuckland's Ifoad, Onehiinga, Auckland, New Zea-
land, and. sends us a puzzle answer "too late, "as
sh« says, " for the competition. but to let you see
that children born and brought up in this out-of-,
the -way corner of the world know something
about authors of England and America " If Lady .
Estrella's excellent answer is a, sample of what ,
Auckland Ladies can do, we will have to admit v
that New Ze;ilam1ers are well informed on liter, M y
matters. Will you jjive the Table a morsel abour
Auckland?
Annie Kidiler: It is impossible to tell, at this'
distance of time, who was the onirirm I of " Lit tie.
Blue Jacket," the picture published hy this [>;ipn
nearly nine yt-ars air<> It was from a photo-jr,,
taken in London, and we doubt if any rtcoul ran
uow be found of it. We uave none.
HARPER'S ROUND TAHLE
CHOCOLATE CREAMS.
THE favorite candies illustrate the use
of fomlaiit both tor the centre of can-
dirs and for the outside or "dipping," as
candy-makers call it. In the first place
get everything in readiness. A fork, some
sheets of oiled paper — paper rubbed with
olive oil — or waxed paper, a large bowl, and
three small saucepans or basius, your flavor-
ing, the chocolate, and your mass of fon-
dant are what you will need. Take a half-
pound of fondant and work into it half a
teaspoouful of vanilla drop by drop. Then
break off small bits and shape them into
balls or pyramids. Stand them on the
papers so they will not touch each other,
and let them harden in a dry cool place —
not the refrigerator — for two or three hours.
When the creams are ready to dip take
half a pound of unsweetened chocolate or
cocoa and put it in the bowl, and place this
in one of the basins or saucepans into which
boiling water bas been poured. You can
add ;i trifle of boiling water to the chocolate
to hasten its melting. When it is melted
add an equal amouut of melted fondant,
and stir constantly till the mixture is like
thick cream. To melt the fondant put it
into a saucepan, and set this into a second
filled with hot water. Never place the basin
with the fondant in it directly on the stove.
It will scorch and burn in a twinkling. In
melting fondant for dipping you must never
forget to stir it, because unless stirred it
will go back into clear syrup. lie very
can-till no water splashes into if. If when
the chocolate and fondant are mixed to-
gether they are too thick for a smooth cov-
ering add a few drops of hot water, drop by
drop, until it is as desired. If you get the
fondant too thin it is useless. When the
mi xi nrc' is rc.-uly bring it to the table, sauce-
pan and all. Drop into it one of the balls,
and take it up on a fork, and, shaking it a
bit, turn it on the oiled paper. This must
be rapidly done, as the hot mixture will
melt the balls if they are in it too long. If
the mixture for dipping gets too still lake
it to the stove and let the water in the
under basin heat again, or replace the cold
water with hot from the kettle, carefully
stirring the fondant every moment. If the
chocolate runs off too much and shows the
white cream underneath, the dipping mix-
ture was too hot. Take it out of its lia.sin
of hot water and stir it, letting it cool a
.ittle before beginning the dipping again.
The method of dipping candies, whatever
lay be their centres or their flavors, is the
same, so that once you can make chocolate
creams, you can make any of the cream can-
dies.
GOOD HEALTH WORK.
OOME conception of the constant dauger
>O to the public health of >'ew York may
je had by reading the last i|imrtcrly report
)f the Board of Health. The sanitary in-
spectors, who are kept more steadily at \\ ink
w than ever before, since the orjjani/.alion
>f the Department of Health, in addition to
their other labor, dest roved Clin.oiill pound*
if vegetables until- for food, "1111,11110 pounds
it' meat. 13,000 pounds of lisli. and ! '
ninds of confectionery, so called — the
poisoned sni;ar stuff sold to children at the
>euiiy shops all over town.
Copyright, 1895, by The Procter 4 Gamble Co.. dull.
r-
Plenty of fresh air, an
abundance of sleep, a. care-
ful diet and the daily use of
a good soap like the Ivory
will purify the complexion
as no cosmetic can.
EARN A TRICYCLE!
We wish to introduce our
TeaB(3plcestand i;;ikiuy
J*o\vd<:r. Sell 30 lus. ana
we will give you a Fairy
Tricycle: sell 25 Ibs.for
aSolidgUver \V;urli:ni<l
Chain; 50 lljs. fora Gold
Watchandi li:mj;T:.ll«.
for a Bicycle ; 10 Ibs.
for a Beautiful Gold
Ring- Express prepaid
11 cash is sent for goods.
Write for catalog and
on lt-r sheet.
w. G. BAKER,
SPRINGFIELD, MASS.
HE ACNESS & HEAD NOISES CURED
IJ F II n by my INVISIBLE Tu(.iil«r Cushions. Have helped
• more to ffootl U C A D ' than all other de-
vices combined. Whispers flkHnd. Help ears as glasses
doeyea. F.Hleeox, 868 B*dway,N.Y. Bootof proofs FREE
mm'! PERIODICALS.
I'er Year:
HAKl'EK'S MAGAZINE /Wa./e fi'»->,)4 cm
IIAKI'EK'S WEEKLY ) OU
HARPER'S HAZAR " t n,
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BuokxftlerH and Pontu«i\i' : s n. orally receive aubucrip-
tions. XvtiKfr//'t,i>ii* M'/I/ direct /•< the publinhers ahoultl
be accompanied by /W-'.//Nr ,1/c/if// Onier or Draft.
HAUPER & BROTHERS, Fraukliu Square, H. V.
Entertaining Books
BY
HOWARD PYLE
TWILIGHT LAND.
Illustrated by the Author. 8vo, Half Leath-
er, Ornamental, §2 50.
MEN OF IRON.
Illustrated by the Author. 8vo, Cloth,
Ornamental, $2 oo.
THE WONDER CLOCK;
Or, Four-and -Twenty Marvellous Tales:
being One for each Hour of the Day. Illus-
trated by the Author. Embellished with
Verses by KATHAKIM<. 1'vi.ii. 410, Cloth,
Ornamental, $3 oo.
PEPPER AND SALT;
Or, Seasoning for Young Folk. Superbly
Illustrated by the Author. 410, Cloth,
Ornamental, $2 oo.
THE ROSE OF PARADISE.
Being a detailed Account of Certain Advtriu-
ures that happened to Captain John Mackra,
in Connection with the famous Pirate, I
ward England, in the Year 1720, off the Isl-
and of Juanna, in the Mozambique Channel,
writ by himself, and now fur the lirst time
published. Illustrated by the Author. IVM
8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1 25 ; Paper, 50
cents.
A MODERN ALADDIN;
Or, the Wonderful Adventures "I Oliver
MimicT. An Extrava ;anza in KOCH \
Illustrated l>v the Author. Post
Ornamental, J<t 25.
CHARLES
CARLETON
COFFIN'S
Fascinating Historical Works
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
THE BOYS OF 76.
THE STORY OF LIBERTY.
OLD TIMES IN THE COL-
ONIES.
BUILDING THE NATION.
A History of the Rebellion
in Four Volumes :
DRUM-BEAT OF THE NATION.
MARCHING TO VICTORY.
REDEEMING THE REPUBLIC.
FREEDOM TRIUMPHANT.
.%/;/< Iti/inins. l'i-iif'iini ft/ IHtc<-
Si/nun- .Sro. Ctiiflt,
HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
MoTHRii. "I really don't see how I'rri going to make both
ends meet."
BOBBY. "Why, mamma, you give me hold of one end,
and you take the other, aud we'll stretch it."
THE MERRY OWLETS.
THERE were three little owls that had slept all day
lu their dowuy nest iu a dead tree's hollow;
Said the first: "It's time to go out aud play,
I hear the good-night of the chimney-swallow!"
"Ohuo,"said the second; "the suu is high,
Who wants to be blind as a bat? — uot I!"
But the third said: "Eats! we have slept euough!
Let's go, anyhow, and play bliudmau's-buff!"
SAMMY. " Who is the father of his country ?"
JIMMIE. "George Washington."
SAMMY. "Correct. Who is his uncle?"
JIMMIIC. " Why. I don't know."
SAMMY. " Uncle Sain."
WILLIAM PENN.
BOBBIN aud Dobbin, William Penn,
He was one of the best of men.
He was a Governor good and great
Of Pennsylvania's early State.
Aud he ruled by love, as a man should do,
For he was a Quaker kind and true.
Bobbin aud Dobbin, William Penn,
He was one of the best of meu.
A BEE is a " busy bee," for it is said that in order to ob-
tain enough honey for a load it has to visit many huudreds
of flowers. It averages twenty trips a day, aud from twenty
to fifty pounds of honey are yearly produced by the hive,
according to its size. Statistics taken from European
countries place the number of beehives aud their output
of honey yearly as follows:
Germany, 1,910,000 hives, with an output of 45,00(1,000
pounds; Spain, 1,61)0,000 hives, with an output of 42,000,000
pounds ; Austria, 1,550,000 hives, with an output of 40,000,-
000 pounds; France has 950,000 hives, producing 23,000,000
pou mis ; Holland, 240,000 hives, producing 6,000,000 pounds ;
Belgium with 200,000 hives produces 5,000,000 pouuds, aud
Russia with 110,000 hives produces 2,000,000 pounds.
Europe is estimated to yield from its beehives 40.000 tons
of honey, valued close on to $11,000,000, and its wax, 15,000
tons, valued at $7,500,000.
This is a large aud rich amount of sweets for the little
busy bee to bring to maukind yearly for uothiug.
MOTHER. "Didn't I tell you to put the miuce pie away
this morning?"
JACK. " Yes, mamma, you did ; but you didu't say where
to put it, so I stored it away iu my stomach."
MOTHER. "Jack, what have you done with the niouey
yon saved up last week?"
JOHNNY. " Papa told me to save for a rainy day; yester-
day was the first one we had, so I spent it."
A STUDY IN NATURAL HISTORY.
"CAN WK CATOU THAT OLD or.ow ?"
•'WjiLi., IF ONK ot- us CAN'T DO IT, WK'LL BKB WUAT TWO CAN DO.'
'HA,UA! WK'LL auow YOU WHAT TOUCAN no!"
856
HARPE
___Z "^Ey x—*1 •r-^M
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, by HARPKB & BROTHKRS. All Rights Reserved.
VOL. svi.— NO. 826. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, AUGUST 27 1895 F1VE CENTS A COPY
! .. TWO DOLLARS A TEAR.
'
OAKLEIGH.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAM)
T
CHAPTER X.
1ONY BRONSON was the son of a man who bad made a
great deal of money in a doubtful lino of business by
rather shady proceedings. In other words, he was not
strictly honest, and had amassed a large fortune in a man-
ner that would not bear investigation.
Of this Tony, of course, was ignorant; but he inherited
from his father a mean spirit and a determination to turn
«very circumstance to his own account. He had been sent
•early to St. Asaph's School that he might associate with
•the sous of gentlemen and become a gentleman himself,
but he had acquired only the outward veneering. His
(manners were most courteous, his language carefully cho-
sen, and be had sufficient wit to enable him to readily
ada.pt himself to his companions, but he had not tin- in-
stincts of a true gentleman. He was mean, he was some-
thing of a coward, and lie was ver\ much of a bully.
Years ago, soon after the two ho\ s lir.st met at St.
Asaph's, Neal detected Tony in a cowardly, dishonorable
action, and had openly accused liim of it. Tony never
forgave him, but lie bided his time. With an unlimited
amount of pockel-i icy of hi- own. he soon di-rovcied
that Xeal was running short. \Vhen a convenient oppor-
tunity came he o tie red to lend him a small sum. Neal,
after a moment's, hesitation, weakly accepted the n
assuring himself that it wa> onl\ t'oi-a>lioi; t i:ne. and that
he could easily repay it. and then have no nioiv i<> >[« with
Hronson. It saved him trouble.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Tbus it had gone on. Tlie time never came when Neal
felt able to pay the debt; on the other hand, lie borrowed
more, and now it had readied alarming proportions. His
monthly allowance, when it arrived, was gone in a Hash,
for Neal had never been in the habit of denying himself.
It would have been hard for him to explain why he did
not go fr.in lily to his sister, tell her the whole story, and
ask for her help, except that he was thoroughly ashamed
of having placed himself in such straits and did not want
to acknowledge it.
Tony Brouson had become intimate with Tom Morgan
at St. Asaph's, Tom not being particular in his choice of
friends. In that way he had come to visit the Morgans
in Brenton. His handsome face and apparently perfect
manner attracted many to him who could not see beneath
the surface, and his languid man-of-the-world air made an
impression.
He cultivated this to the last degree. He was not natu-
rally so lazy, but he thought it effective.
When he said to Edith that he wished to tell her some-
thing about Neal Gordon, she looked at him in still greater
surprise.
"I want to ask your help, Miss Franklin. A girl can
manage these things so much better than a fellow. I like
Gordon immensely, and I want to do all I can to help him
out of a scrape."
"Does he kuow that you are speaking to rue about
him f '
" No, of course not. The fact is —
"Then I think, Mr. Bronsou," interrupted Edith, gently,
but with decision, " that perhaps it would be better for us
not to discuss him."
"But yon quite misunderstand me, Miss Franklin. I
am speaking only for his own good. I can't bear to see
a fellow going straight to the bad, as I really am very
much afraid he is, and not lift a linger to help him. I
tliiinght if I told you that perhaps you might speak to his
sister —
Edith interrupted him again, with heightened color. " I
can do nothing of the sort. Nothing would induce me
to speak to Mrs. Franklin on the subject. I — I couldn't
possibly."
Bronsou looked at her compassionately.
"Ah, it is as I thought! You and Mrs. Franklin are
not congenial. I am so sorry."
Edith said nothing. She knew that he should not make
such a remark to her, a perfect stranger. She felt that he
did not ring true. And yet she could not bring herself to
administer the reproof that Cynthia would have given un-
der like circumstances.
"I am afraid I have offended you," said Brouson, pres-
sently ; "do forgive me! And if you like I will say no
more about the bad scrape Gordon is in. I thought per-
haps I could prevent a letter coming from the faculty, but
I see it's of no use. I'm awfully sorry for the fellow.
You don't really think you could do anything to influence
his sister?"
At last Edith found her voice.
"I don't think I can. And if you don't mind I would
rat her not discuss the Gordons — I mean, Mrs. Franklin and
her brother."
"Certainly not, if you don't wish, and you won't re-
peat what I said, of course. If we can't help him, of
course we had better not let it get out about Gordon any
sooner than necessary. But holloa! What's this? The
carpet seems to be getting damp."
It undoubtedly was, and gave forth a most unpleasantly
moist sound when pressed. Upon investigation they found
that the, bottom of the canoe was filled with water. They
had sprung a leak.
"We had better get back as quickly as possible," said
Edith, rather relieved to have the conversation come to au
cull. "Is there a sponge there ? I can bail if it gets any
worse."
But no sponge, was to be found, and it rapidly grew
worse ; Edith's skirts were damp and draggled. Presently
there was an inch of water above the carpet.
" \\V shall sink if this goes on," she said.
"Oh, I fancy not," returned Bronsou, easily ; "we haven't
very far to go."
But their progress was not rapid, and the pool in the
canoe grew deeper.
"Perhaps you will lend me your cap," said Edith; "I
cau use it as a dipper." He did so, and she bailed vigor-
ously. "It must be a very large leak. I suppose we got
it on that rock in the rapids, and we scraped again just
before we tied up, which made it worse. If it were our
boat I would not care, but I think it is Neal's."
She was so occupied that she did not see Bronson smile.
His smile was not attractive, though his teeth were per-
fect.
Matters would have gone badly with them if they had
not at this moment met Jack and Kitty Morgan in the
Franklins' canoe.
" What's the row ?" called Jack.
"Nothing rnncb,"said Bronsou. "We've sprung a little
leak, that's all."
"A little leak! I should think so. My eye! Why,
man, you must have a regular hole for the water to come
in like that. Where have you been, anyhow? You had
better put in here at this little beach and step over into
my boat."
"What's the matter with stepping over right where we
are ? No need of going to shore."
Jack eyed him with curiosity and contempt. He looked
so much like Cynthia that Bronson felt withered. He did
not care for Cynthia, for he knew that she did not like
him.
Jack did not speak at once, but paddled towards the
bank. Then he said:
"You won't try stepping from one canoe to another in
mid-stream if I have anything to say about it."
The change was safely accomplished, and they proceeded
down the river towing the injured boat, the carpet and
cushions having been transferred with the passengers.
Relieved of the weight it did not fill as rapidly, and they
at last reached the picnic-ground.
Brouson was mortified at coming back in such ignomin-
ious plight, but he made the best of it.
"I am awfully sorry, Gordon, if it is your canoe. It
must have been pretty frail, though, to go to pieces at a
mere scratch."
"She's the finest cedar canoe to be found in the city of
Boston, and it would take more than a mere scratch to do
her up this way. From appearances I should say you had
pounded round on the rocks pretty freely," growled Neal,
who had turned the boat upside down, and was examining
it carefully.
Bronson stooped over him. For the moment they were
alone.
" Of course I would feel worse about it if it were auy
one's but yours. As it is, we'll just call ten off that fifty
still owing. That will go towards repairs. More than
cover them, I should say."
Then he sauntered off, his hands in his pockets.
"What a cad the fellow is!" muttered Neal. "It would
give rue real pleasure to knock him down."
"I heard him," said Cynthia. Her cheeks were red
and her blue eyes had grown very dark. "He is au odi-
ous, hateful creature, and I de-spise him !"
Having delivered herself of this, Cynthia felt better.
They all went home soon afterwards, Edith leaving ear-
lier iu the carriage with Mrs. Franklin, for her shoes and
skirts were too wet for her to wait for the slower move-
ments of the canoes. It was an unfortunate ending to the
day, and Edith was uncomfortable also about her conversa-
tinn with Brouson. She knew that she ought not to have
listened to a word of it.
She wondered if id were really true that Neal was in dif-
ficulty. She thought she must talk it over with Cynthia
that night. Of course Cynthia would stand up for Xeal.
that went without saying, but it was always a relief to
Kdiih to talk things over with her.
It was a rather silent drive home, and Mrs. Franklin
sighed to herself when Edith barely replied to her remarks.
li seemed perfectly hopeless; she and Edith would never
858
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
grow any nearer to each other; but there was nothing to
be done.
That night, when the girls went to their room, Edith was
spared the necessity of opening the subject, for Cynthia
began at once.
"What a perfectly hateful creature that Brouson is! I
don't see how you could go on the river with him, Edith. I
think you got well paid for it."
"I don't see why you dislike him so, C'ynthia. You
taUr such tremendous prejudices. He is awfully hand-
some."
"Handsome! I don't admire that style. That la-da-
(la-it-is-I-just-please-look-at-me kind doesu't go down with
me."
C'ynthia thrust her hands into imaginary pockets, leaned
languidly against the bedpost, and rolled her eyes.
" Er — Miss Franklin — carn't I persuade you to go out on
the rivah ?" she said, with an exaggerated manner and ac-
cent, and a throaty voice.
Edith laughed. Cynthia was a capital mimic.
" I like a broad A, and, of course, I never would use any-
thing else myself, but his is broader than the Mississippi.
It just shows it isn't natural to him. To hear him talk
about ' darmp grarss,' and he'd just come from ' Sonth-
i/;-////iton.' He is a regular xlinrm himself. I dare say he
was brought up to say 'ca'm' and 'pa'ru' and ' hain't ' and
'ain't.'"
"Cynthia, what a goose you are!"
"Well, I can't bear him, and neither can Neal. Jack
doesu't like him either."
"There, that is just it. You are so influenced by Neal
and Jack. Tony Bronsou spoke very nicely of Neal, as if he
were a true friend of his."
"Pooh! Much friend h.-!"
"Well, h<- did. Cynthia, and that is just what I want
to talk over with you. Neal must be iu some terrible
scrape."
"Has that Bronsou been telling you about that?" cried
Cynthia, indignantly.
" Oh, then it is really true ! I thought it must be."
" No, it isn't — at least, not what Brousou told you. I am
just certain that whatever lie told you wasn't true," said
Cynthia, who felt that she had said more than she should.
" I shouldn't think you would have discussed Neal with him.
Neal is one of our family."
"I didn't," said Edith, somewhat curtly, "though I don't
exactly see why you should speak of Neal Gordon as one of
our family. I told Mr. Brouson I preferred not to talk
about him. But he spoke so nicely of Neal, and said he
wanted to help him, and lie was afraid the faculty would
write about him, and he wanted to get him out of the scrape
if he could."
"Oh, the hypocrite! But what is the scrape? Did he
say :'"
"No, I wouldn't let him. But it is absurd to call him a
hypocrite, Cynthia. I shall never believe it unless you tell
me why you think so."
"I can't do that, but I know he is," said Cynthia, stonily.
"Yon have just got to take my word for it, for I can't ex-
plain."
The girls talked far into the night, but Edith was not
convinced. She felt that then; was something at the bot-
tom of it all, for Cynthia could uot deny it. After all, she
was sorry. Edith liked Neal, a, Gordon though he was.
But she ilid not doubt that he was in a difficulty of some
kind.
The summer was over and the glorious autumn leaves
dropped from the trees, leaving the branches bare and ready
for the coining of snow. One could see the course of the
river plainly now from Oakleigh windows. Beautiful Oc-
tober was swallowed up by chill November, aud the wind
grew- biting. One was glad of the long evenings, when the
curtains could be drawn and the lamps lighted early to shut
out the gray skies and dreary landscape.
\eal was back at St. Asaph's, and the winter work had
begun. Cynthia aud Jack weut every day to Boston, and
Edith also went iu three times a week for lessons. She
objected to this on the plea of expense, much as she desired
a thorough education, she greatly leave,! her step-mother
bad lii-ought it about. Bui her father reprimanded her
sharply when she said something of this, and insisted that.
she should do as he desired.
The poultry had already begun to bring in a little mon-
ey, for Jack sold a few "broilers" I,, his mother at mai
ket prices, though she usually added a few cents iv a
pound.
" They are so delicious, Jack," said she ; "better than 1
could get anywhere else, and worth the moncv ."
He kept his accounts most carefully, and it was pleasant
to write down a few tigures on the page for rei-eipis. \\ Inch
thus far had presented an appalling blank.
In due time came a present to Edith from Aunt Betsey :
a package containing au old-fashioned camel's-hair scarf
that had belonged to "Grandmother Trinket!," and, scat-
tered among its folds, five ten-dollar gold pie.es.
Government had proved worthy of the old lady's tnist,
for the money had come safely; but theu she had artuallv
addressed the package clearly and correctly.
Edith, of course, was much pleased, aud notwithstanding
her aunt's suggestion that she should place it in the sav-
ings-bank, she determined to expend the money in a hand-
some winter suit aud hat. She dearly loved nice clothes.
Cynthia looked somewhat scornfully at the new gar-
ments.
"If Aunt Betsey sends me fifty dollars, you won't catch
me spending it on finery," she informed her family. " I have
other things to do with HI.// money.''
She did not know how truly she spoke, nor what would
be the result of her manner of spending Aunt Betsey's pres-
ent.
The fall slipped quickly by, and the Christmas holidays
drew near. Neal was coming to Oakleigh, and many things
were planned for the entertainment of the young people.
Cynthia went about fairly bursting with excitement and
secrets. This was her best-loved time of the whole year.
and she was making the most of it.
The 25th of December fell on a Wednesday this year,
and Neal came- down from St. Asaph's on Monday, to be in
good season for the festivities of Christmas Eve. 1'lentv
of snow had fallen, and all kinds of jolly times were looked
for.
Outside the scene was wintry indeed, aud the white
walls of Oakleigh looked cold aud dreary in the setting of
snow -which lay so thickly over river, meadow, and hill, but
in the house there was plenty of life and cheery warmth.
Great fires burned briskly iu all the chimneys, and the
rooms were bright and cozy with warm-looking eaipets
and curtains and comfortable furniture. There had been a
good deal done to the house, both outside and in, since tin-
coming of Mrs. Franklin. Edith still maintained to herself
that she did not like it, but every one else thought matters
vastly improved.
"Hurray! hurray !" cried Jack, rushing intothe house ou
Tuesday and slamming down his books; "good- by to
school for ten days! It was a mean shame that we had to
have school at all this week. Neal, you \\ereiu luck. St.
Asaph's must be mighty good fun. anyhow. By-lhc-wa\."
continued he, holding his chilled hands to the lite. " 1 saw-
that Bronsoii fellow in town to-day — the one that smashed
your canoe."
" Von did .'" said Neal, glancing up from his book. \\ hile
Cynthia gave •xclamation of disgust .
"Yes. "said Jack, "anil he said the Morgans had asked
him out here for the holidays, so I guess \\ e arc in Tor an-
other dose. It strikes me they must lie prettv hard up for
company to want him."
Neal said nothing. Edith looked up from her work and
watched him sharply. Imt his face told little.
•• Hateful thing !" exclaimed Cynthia. •• 1 would like to
pack my trunk and lake a train .M,I of HIV m, in as he comes
in on a IM it her."
•• 1 can't see « h\ \ ou all dislike him so." ol,ser\ ed Kdlth.
•' Yon detest him, don'l \ on, N<
"Oh, Edith, do hush !" eried C.\ nt hia. " Yes. of coir
does: he's hateful." But Neal still said nothing, and :
got no sa t Utart ion.
859
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Christmas Eve closed iu early. At about four o'clock it
began to snow, and the wind blew great drifts against the
side of the house. Every one said it was going to be an
old-fashioned Christmas.
It was the custom in the Franklin household to look at
the presents that night. As Cynthia said, when arguing
the point with some one who thought it a shocking idea
to see one's gifts before Christmas morning, it made it so
much more exciting to open their own packages, and to
look at their treasures by lamplight. Then in the morning
they had the pleasure of seeing them a second time, and of
investigating their stockings, which, of course, were hung
ready for the coming of Santa Claus.
After supper Jack and Neal carried in the great clothes-
basket which for days had been the receptacle for pack-
ages of all sizes and kinds, those that had come by post and
those which the family themselves had carefully tied up,
until now it looked like Santa Claus's own pack.
Mrs. Franklin presided at the basket and read the names,
and when the colored ribbons were untied and the tempt-
ing-looking white parcels were opened, there were shrieks
and exclamations of delight, for every one declared that
this particular gift was just what he or she most desired.
Each one had a table covered with a white cloth, upon
which to place his treasures, and when all was done the
"long parlor" at Oakleigh looked like a fancy bazar, so
many and varied were the articles displayed.
There was an odd-looking package addressed to Jack
and Cynthia. It was heavy and covered with postage-
stamps iu consequence, and proved to be a large box stuffed
with straw.
"What under the sun is it? Of course it's from Aunt
Betsey, "said Jack, as he rooted down into the hay, scatter-
ing it in all directions. Out came what appeared to be an
egg tied up with old-fashioned plaid ribbon, and an an-
cient-looking beaded purse. The purse was marked "Cyn-
thia," so Jack appropriated the egg, but with an exclama-
tion of chagrin.
" She is sending coals to Newcastle," said he. " Aunt
Betsey must have thought it was Easter. But it is the
queerest-feeling egg I ever came across. It's as heavy as
lead."
He shook it and held it up to the light.
" Ha, ha !" said he ; "a good egg ! I'd like to have the
machine packed with just such eggs."
Inside were ten five -dollar gold pieces, and Cynthia
found the same in her purse.
"I will put mine away for a 'safety' iu the spring," said
Jack, clinking his gold with the air of a miser, and exam-
ining the empty egg-shells. " Isn't Aunt Betsey a daisy
and no mistake? Just see the way she's fixed up this
egg-shell; she cut it in half as neat as a pin. I don't see
how she ever did it."
" I wish I had an Aunt Betsey," remarked Neal ; " those
gold pieces would come in pretty handy just now."
"Aunt Betsey is so fond of giving gold," said Cynthia.
"She always says it is real money, and bills are nothing
but paper. I shall put mine away for the present, until I
think of something I want terribly much, and then I will
go grandly to Boston and buy it like a duchess. Goody
Two-shoes, but I feel rich!"
And she danced gayly up and down the room, waving
her purse iu the air.
Neal had very nice presents, but he was disappointed to
find that there was no money among them. He suspected,
and correctly, that his sister and her husband had thought
it wiser uot to give him any more at present.
"Then I'm in for it," thought he. "I'll have to ask
Hessie, and there'll be no end of a row. Of course she
will give it to me in the end, but it would have been nicer
all round if she had come out handsomely with a Christ-
mas check. Of course these skates are dandy, and so is
the dress-suit case and the nobby umbrella and the sleeve-
buttons; but just at present I would rather have the cash
they all cost."
He said something of this afterwards to Cynthia.
" Brouson is screwing me for all he's worth," said he.
"I'll have to get the money somehow, and fifty dollars is
no joke. Of course, I'm uot going to take off the ten lie
so kindly offered for the canoe; I'd like to see myself!
If Hessie doesn't see matters in the same light I'll have to
do something desperate. But, of course, she will give it
to me."
"Neal," said Cynthia, impulsively, "if mamma doesn't
give you the money you must borrow it of me. There is
that fifty dollars Aunt Betsey has given me. You can
have it just as well as not."
"Cynthia, you're a brick, and no mistake," said Neal,
looking at her affectionately, " but you know I wouldn't
take your money for the world. You must think me a
low-down sort of fellow if you think I would."
" How absurd ! It is a great deal better to owe it to me
instead of to a stranger like Bronson, or any one else. I'm
sure I think of you just as if you were my brother, and
Jack wouldn't mind taking it. You can pay it back when
you get your own money."
"Yes, nine years from now," said Neal. "No, indeed,
Cynth, I'll have to be pretty hard up before I borrow of a
girl." '
"I think you are too bad," said Cynthia, almost crying.
" I don't see the difference between a girl and anybody
else. I don't need the money ; I don't know what to buy
with it. I would just love to have you take it. It would
be lovely to think my money had paid your debts, and
then you could start all fresh. Please, .Neal, say you will
if mamma does uot give it to you."
But Neal would not promise.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
A MILITARY BICYCLE CORPS' OUTING.
THE bicycle corps of a military academy near Chicago
recently made a journey on wheels from that city to
Springfield and back again, camping at night wherever
darkness overtook them, foraging among the neighboring
farm-houses for their subsistence, and conducting them-
selves on the whole as if they were actually in the field on
active service. A guard was posted as soon as camp was
pitched iu the evening, and sentries kept watch throngh-
WATCHING THE EVENING POT BOIL.
SCO
TEE BICYCLE CORPS AT DRESS PAKADE.
out the night, keeping away all intruders, and seeing to it
that none of the cadets ran the lines to visit a uear-liy vil-
lage, or to milk some unprotected cow in a neighboring
farm - yard. The boys did their own cooking, which at
times was marvellous to look upon, and fearful to digest ;
but they all lived through the experience, and got back to
the school in the best of health and condition. A week
was occupied in making the trip, and the experience and
general knowledge of bicycling which the cadets acquired
in that time was such as they doubtless could never have
obtained in any other way. There were seventeen in the
party, including the1 Major commanding, who was one of
the instructors at the academy, and each wheelman carried
about thirty pounds of baggage, consisting of a change of
under-clothing, a blanket, a shelter tent, arms, .and cooking
utensils. The incidents of the journey were many, and the
element of adventure was not lacking.
Of course there were a number of accidents to the ma-
chines, one of the most serious occurring about the fourth
or fifth day out when about eighty miles from Springfield.
It was a creeping tire, and no amount of cement ortire-tape
could be made to stop it. A total of eight valves was torn
off in that one day, which, with the delay caused by punc-
tures from thorn-Ledges, cost a great loss of time. When
within ten miles of Springfield, with a heavy thunder-storm
coming up behind them, the tires of two wheels got badly
punctured, and a halt had to be called. It was thought
that repairs could be quickly effected, but this proved not
to be the case, and the rnaiu body was thereupon ordered
to push on, while the disabled riders were left to complete
their patching, with orders to catch up as soon as possible.
But night and the storm came on rapidly, and under these
unfavorable circumstances the cadets were unable to locate
the punctures. They therefore determined to camp for the
night, and having found shelter behind a hay-stack, they
put up their shelter tents over their wheels and slept com-
fortably in the storm all
night. The next morning
repairs were effected, and
by fast riding the strag-
glers overtook their com-
panions.
The foraging was a
source of about as much
fun to the boys as the
cooking. The first even-
ing of the trip the for-
agers brought back to
camp among other things
a bag of oatmeal. A spe-
cial order was given to the
guard that uigbt to notify
the three-o'clock detail to
put the oatmeal on the
fire to cook slowly at 3.30
A.M. The guard obeyed
lii> instructions as far as
they went, but not being a
cook, and having received
no further orders, he did
not look at the oatmeal
again, with the result that
this particular breakfast
dish was not much of a suc-
cess. But sleeping in
the open air sharpens the appetite, and burnt as it was, the
oatmeal was entirely consumed. On another occasion —
this time it was for luncheon — foragers were, as usual, de-
tailed to supply the commissariat. All who had been sent
out returned to camp within a reasonable time, except two,
and it was soon deemed expedient by the Major to send a
corporal's guard in search of these. The guard remaining
absent very much longer than seemed necessary, the Major
himself mounted his wheel and started to gather in the de-
linquents. He found them, corporal's guard and all, com-
fortably seated behind a hay-stack eating pork and beans
and cold chicken, and drinking fragrant hot coffee from a
geuerous earthen pot. The farmers all along the route
were most geuerous to the bicyclists. In a number of cases
they absolutely refused to accept any pay for provisions
furnished. At a place near Bloomington the country peo-
ple were notably hospitable. One man brought to the
camp seven dozen eggs, another six spring chickens, and
another a pail of milk, while one thoughtful mother sent
all the pies she had in the house. Then the good natives
sat around on the grass and watched the boys cook and
eat.
Wherever it was possible to do so, camp was pitched near
water. One of the prettiest spots found was on the shore
of the Kaukakee River,uear Wilmington, where the corps
brought up late one afternoon after a hot and dusty ride.
Tents were never before so quickly raised, and a minute
later the quiet stream was being churned into foam by the
swimmers. At Lincoln the camp was on State property.
and the boys had the use of the National Guard's swimming
pool. But this was not the only courtesy they received at
the bands of the militia. At this same Camp Lincoln tin-
Adjutant -General's department had provided good-sized
tents for the bicyclists, with extra blankets, and a cooking-
stove, on which hot coffee was steaming when the corps ar-
rived. Further on iu the run the same hospitality was
A QUIET CAMP BY THE \VAV.
861
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
listen
shown. At Streator a good-natured merchant distributed
free soda-water checks to all, and as many as each Wanted.
One lady invited the cadets into her house and gave them
cake and lemonade, and had all the girls of the neighbor-
hood in to serve it. The notes of the ''Assembly Call " w ere1
mighty unwelcome sounds that afternoon.
But besides the fun and the exercise and healthfulness
of the journey, a good deal of useful information was ab-
sorbed. On the run out from Chicago the road follow-
ed the line of the new drainage canal, giving all a good
opportunity to witness the blasting and the working
of the giant mac.liine shovels. At Springfield the corps
visited the Legislature, then in session, and the home of
President Lincoln. They were also received by the Gover-
nor. At Joliet they were taken through the penitentiary,
and. among other souvenirs of the place, each one carried
away a piece of striped cloth from the tailor shops. These
pieces did important duty later in the journey, most of
them returning to Chicago in the form of patches to the
w ell- worn uniforms.
On the whole the trip proved most successful, and there
is not much those boys don't know to-day about the hand-
ling of bicycles.
A PILOT'S STORY.
FOR a number of years I have been a traveller on the
North River ferry-boats running between New York
and Jersey City. One of the pleasures of these short trips
has been in my interest and admiration for the skilful way
in which such large, unwieldy boats are handled by their
pilots. The tides in the river are at times very strong,
and especially so near the ferry slips. To prevent mishaps
it requires the most careful manoeuvring, as a small error
of judgment might send the heavily laden boat crashing
into the bulkheads. Such an accident would endanger
the lives of the people on board.
When the heavy gong sounds, and the rumble of the
paddle-wheels stops, and the boat glides silently over the
water, it is then that the pilot and his engineer are on the
alert — one with his hand on the wheel, moving it this way
and that, and the other with his hand on the lever bar,
ready to back water or go ahead, according to his sig-
nals.
I remember a story that a pilot told me, of which he was
the hero. He did not tell it boastiugly, but in a simple,
quiet way, and not before a great deal of persuasion was
brought to bear upon him. We were standing at the time
on the lower deck of a ferry-boat belonging to the line
upon which he was then employed. Pointing to a grimy
young bootblack who was industriously polishing away,
he said: "At one time I polished boots the same as that
youngster is doing there. I loved the boats and the
crowds, but more especially I loved to watch the pilot and
the engineer at work. To see the latter polishing and oil-
ing his machinery as carefully as a mother would dress a
baby was my chief enjoyment. I dare say I knew every
part of the engine as well as he did, or at least I thought
so, and many a shine I let pass simply to see him work the
boat in and out of the slip. This curiosity, or rather in-
terest, on my part stood me in good stead at one time, as
you will see. We were unusually crowded on the trip
when my stroke of good luck took place, both gangways
running past the engine-room being choked up with horses
and wagons.
"Most of the drivers had gone forward, and I sat in my
usual place on the ledge at the engine-room door alone.
Hang! the first bell sounded to reduce her to half speed,
and Iglanced around to watch the engineer shut off .strain.
He was sitting facing the engine in his arm-chair, his ehin
in his hand, and his arm resting on the side of the chair.
I was surprised to see that he made no move, and, think-
ing be was asleep, I ran in to shake him. By this time
the pilot, evidently thought something was wrong, and the
big bell sounded twice, meaning, as you probably know, to
slop the engine. I could not make the engineer move,
and. \\itliont hesitating, I stepped across to the engine,
and grasping the wheel,! shut off the steam and discon-
nected the eccentrics.
"Of course the engine stopped, and the. pilot, thinking
everything was all right, commenced to send down his
signals. I was a little frightened — more at the idea of my
working the big engine than at making any mistakes, for
I knew exactly what to do. Well, we had some trouble
making the slip, and I had to back her out. I can tell you,
working that lever bar was no easy job. Then came the
sharp tinkle for full speed, and shortly I had her well out
into the river. Then came the hells to stop her, and again
to reverse and go ahead under half speed.
"By that time I was very tired, hut no longer nervous,
and when we again ueared the slip and the welcome bell
to stop the engine sounded, I was very glad. The double-
signal to back water came, and I pushed the lever bar up
and down twice before I got my last signal to stop. When
I heard the rattle of the chains as they tied her in the
slip I was worn out, and it seems to me I must have faint-
ed, for when I came to it was in the presence of the pilot
and some of the officers of the line. They told me the en-
gineer had died of heart-disease ; and in recognition of my
services they placed me at school and gratified my ambi-
tion to become a pilot, as you see." HUBERT EAUL.
CORPORAL FRED.*
A Story of the Riots.
BY CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U.S.A.
CHAPTER VI.
minutes later, while police and firemen, both pro-
tected by the First Battalion, were devoting their en-
ergies to checking the flames that were rapidly sweeping
through the great repair shops, and the other two battalions
of the regiment were clearing the blazing freight-yards of
the last skulkers of the mob, the surgeon had established a
temporary field-hospital in the open enclosure between the
main entrance and the yards. Thither had been driven
the two ambulances, conspicuous by the red cross of Geneva.
Here, feebly moaning, lay poor Jim, kicked and clubbed into
most unrecognizable pulp. Here beside him knelt Fred,
still praying for tidings of his father. Slinking away from
the scene of their recent triumph the rioters fled before the
solid ranks of the troops, only to regather. though in smaller
force, and resume the work of pillage and destruction
farther along the line. And now the Colonel began to ap-
preciate the full effect of orders to serve under police in-
struction. First he had to send Major Flint with his bat-
talion to report to Police Captain Murray a mile away in
one direction. Then Major Allen with the second was
despatched far out to Prairie Grove. Ten minutes more
and a third detachment was de'inamled to assist Police
Sergeant Jaeger, now struggling with the strikers at the
elevators along the canal, and when ten o'clock came the
Colonel with his staff, his hospital, and something like a
dozeu officers and men, whose heads were cut by stones
and coupling-pins, had just one company left in his imme-
diate command. "B''had gone to the Prairie A\enue
crossing, where a mail-train was stalled, and •• I, ." Fred's
own, was posted at the storage warehouse, halt a mile
northward. Fred himself still remained by his brother's
side, while police and firemen, lantern-bearing, were search-
ing through what was left of the long line of repair shops
in vain quest of the old foreman. With Fred, too, by this
time were his mother and sister Jessie. Poor little Billy,
led home by sympathizing women, had told his story, and
the brave wife and mother, leaving to the elder daughter
the. duty of caring for the house, had taken Jess and made
her way through the now scattering crowd, through the
still blazing yards, through the friendly lines of National
Guardsmen, over the well-known pathway to the shops,
there to take her place, by her stricken first-born's side.tear-
* Begun iu HARPER'S KOUND TABLE No. 821.
802
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
fully, prayerfully waiting for tidings of the husband and
father, even while devotedly tending the son. By 10.15 the
flames about the buildings were extinguished, and I lie fire-
men turned their attention to the blazing ruins in the
yards. And now the searching parties were raking through
the burued-out sections of the shops iu the belief that
there, and only there, could old Wallace be found. Time
and again, as some one caine out from the grimy gateway,
the sorrowing woman lifted her white, piteous face in mute
appeal. Jessie, weeping sorely, was clasping Jim's blood-
stained, nerveless hand. Fred had gone to join the search-
ers. Far down the tracks toward Prairie Grove the glare
of new conflagrations reddened the skies. From up the
yards near the warehouses came stories of fresh gatherings
of the mobs. The police thought more soldiers should bo
sent there, and the Colonel said he had but one company
left. Out iu front of the shops an elevated iron foot-bridge
crossed the freight-yards. It had been red hot iu places
uutil the firemen turned their streams and cooled it off.
Then Fred's friend, the signal sergeant, with a couple <.f
men, had mounted it, and sent their night torches swing-
ing. "Hurrah for Colton,'' said the Colonel. "That boy's
worth his weight in gold." for presently a bugler came
running up to report the sergeant had established commu-
nication with Prairie Grove, and soon after with Captain
Wagner's post far up the tracks. The first message from
below told of fresh fires and outbreaks, as was to be ex-
pected. The first from above set the Colonel's eyes
adancing.
" Police report rioters gathering iu force about the Amity
Wagon-Works. Twelve loaded cars on their tracks there.
Think they mean mischief."
"Hullo!" cried the Colonel. "Where's Corporal Wal-
lace T"
And poor, sad- faced Fred, just back from unsuccessful
searching, and now kneeling by bis mother's side, promptly
sprang to his feet and approached his commander.
"What's in those cars at the Amity Works, corporal ?
"New wagons, sir. Loaded yesterday and ought to have
started last uight, but they couldn't get anything out."
" I can't bear to take you away from your mother, my
lad, until we hear of your father ; but I feel sure, somehow,
that he is safe, and the doctors tell me your brother will
recover, though he may be laid up some time. It is more
than likely we'll be called on for more duty presently, and
if we are" — and here he glanced keenly at the young fel-
low from under the brim of his scouting hat.
"I'm read.y, sir," said onr corporal, grimly. "I'd welcome
a chance," he added, as he glanced back at the group about
his brother's battered form, at his mother's white face, and
Jessie's weeping eyes; anil just then Jim feebly rolled his
bandaged head from side to side, and his swollen lips were
seen to be striving to form some words. Eagerly the mo-
ther bent her ear to catch them. All others ceased their
low-toned chat ; all eyes seemed fastened on them — anxious
mother and stricken sou. Only she to whom his earliest.
baby lispiugs were intelligible, inexpressible music could
understand his meaning now.
" Did father — get home safe ?"
Then Jessie's sobs broke forth afresh, and a young rail-
wayman, whose bruises the surgeon had been dressing,
could stand it no longer. He was one of the striking traiu-
uieu, and knew Jim well.
•• Mrs. Wallace," he cried, struggling to his feet and com-
ing towards her, " I'm a Brotherhood man and bound to
them in every way, but I can't stand this. I know w bat's
happened, though I had no hand in it, as God's my judge!
The old man's sale, ma'am — sate and out of harm's way,
though I don't know where. ,lim wrapped him in bis own
coal with our badge on it, ami run him out thi.mgh the
south gate when they burst in here. I saw him. Tbere
were only a. tew fellows down there, and lie- got him out, all
right, and made him promise to keep away. I saw the old
man cross the street into the lumber-yards, aud gave Jim
m\ vrord I wouldn't peach. I'm no traitor to our fellows,
hut I couldn't see the old man hurt." (And here his eyes
wandered to where .lessie crouched beside her brother, i
"I tried to keep 'em oil' from Jim, but he would go back
ami brave them, and then- were m.-n among them n
could influence after once Stoltz said hisi-ay. 1 got M,.
he added, half in sham.-, " battling against • ow o pi
try ing to save him, but. they were fat I lauy for both of
us. They were, madlikc. and most, of them were black
guards we'd not be seen with an \ other time. They dow ned
him, and nearly kicked the I if,, out of him. because he
wouldn't say which way the old man went or where he'd
hid him."
Then, at least, the old foreman was not in the ruins
might, indeed, have escaped from the rioters. V, i Mi,.
Wallace, was not much comforted. Again and again she
implored Jim to say whether he had designated any par-
ticular place as his father's refuge; but Jim had drifted nil
again into the borderland between the oilier wurld ami
this. His ears were deaf to her appeal. If father had been
spared, she said, surely he would have made' his uay home
to reassure them. In vain Fred pointed out that to do so
he must again venture through the mile-long yard of riot
ers, tiring cars, and mad with glut and t rinmph. He would
surely have been recognized, and by that time every strik-
ing sw ili hniau aud trainman knew it was he w ho held the
throttle of the first engine to essay to break the morning's
blockade — more than enough to ruin him. They might.
not themselves use violence, but they or their women would
point him, out to the bloodhounds in the mob men who
were ready for any deed of violence, no matter how brutal
or cowardly, aud the brave old fellow would have met the
martyr's faJte at their hands.
"He never would have gone and left poor Jim to go hack
and face them all alone," cried Mrs. Wallace , breaking dow u
at last; and then Fred had to tell her that Jim was him-
self a leader iu the strike, a personal friend of Steinman.
and completely influenced by him. Neither father nor
Jim believed that they would assault cue of their own
Brotherhood, the man whose contributions had exceeded
those of any other, aud whose heart had been hot for ac-
tion days before. They did not realize that men are turn-
ed to tigers at the touch of blood or riot, aud that for lack
of other material — just as the mob of Paris guillotined their
own leaders when gentler blood was all expended — so would
these mad dogs turn for victims upon their kind.
"Go you and search, "said Inspector Morrissey to two of
his bluecoats. "You know every hiding-place about hen-.
Find him, or trace of him quick as you can."
And the wearied officers turned away. They had had a
wretched time of it for over thirty hours, and not a wink
of sleep. Scattered by twos aud threes they had bceu ex-
pected to preserve the peace even though repeatedly cau-
tioned not. to use force. An important elect inn was close
at hand. The city officials, now seeking re-elect ion, bad for-
feited long' since the respect of the educated classes of the
community, and their only hopes lay now wiih the nival
mass of the populace in which the strikers were I
represented, and from which their supporters and sympa-
thizers were without exception drawn. li would not do
to club or intimidate, and thereby uli'eiid these thousands
of voters, ami the police, brave and determined individu-
ally, and long schooled iu handling the ••tough" element,
now found themselves absolutely crippled and hampered.
lirst by a feeling of personal friendship for many of tin-
railway men themselves, Second by absence "I ' n ,. r .sup-
port or approval when it came (o handling t he i ioters. Not
until the mob bad burst all hounds, and the safety oi' the
grea< city was at, stake did the oflieials ieali/e the force of
the torrent they had turned loose. and then gave reluctant.
half-hearted orders to suppress the riot e\cn though Bome-
bo,l\ had to be hurt. When at last the oitj tn»ins were
marched to the several scenes, the wearied police took heart
again, and many of them went to work with then old-time
vim.
Just before eleven o'clock Jim was tenderly lifted into
one of the regimental ambulances, and witb his mother and
Jess carefully driven overborne, where sympathi
bors gathered and ministered to i and all. Haifa
of Jim's associates, strikers t helll.selves, but appalle.
disgusted now at the contemplation of the resull Ol
established thclnseh uard at till
863
'DID FATHER— GET
SAFE?"
while others eagerly, fearfully joined in the search for the
honored old Scotchman who, with too good reason, many
feared, had fallen a victim to the fury of the rioters. Far-
ley, Jim's brakeman, had not been seen for hours, and this
was significant. Fred, leaving his brother safely stowed
away in bed, with all possible comfort secured for the night,
kissed his mother's tear-stained face and told her he must
go. She clung to him shuddering a moment, yet could not
say no. He was a man now, just twenty-one, and knew his
duty. Had not the Colonel said there was further work
ahead ?
It came, quickly enough. A man in a buggy with a
prancing, frightened horse, was eagerly importuning the
imperturbable gray-mustached Colonel, as Corporal Fred
returned to his post, aud the conversation \vas more than
interesting.
" I /in IT appealed to the police. They say they're power-
less. They've got all they can do now. There's two com-
panies of your regiment right there near them within four
squares. Colonel, if you will only order them to go with
me we can disperse that mob, and save the plant, cars, and
all."
"How many rioters are there, Mr. — Mr. Manners ?"
"There must be five hundred ; five hundred at least, aud
they've set tire to the cars twice, aud driven off the firemen
and police."
"But, Mr. Manners, two companies of /i« soldiers can't
drive away five hundred strong men; and I understand
you spoke of uiy men to-day as such."
"Don't kick a mau when he's down, Colonel. I may have
said something foolish — any man's liable to make mistakes ;
but four hundred thousand dollars' worth of property is
burning up there, and my watchmen are being stoned and
killed. We discharged some bad characters last week, and
they're heading the mob now."
"Yes, this does seem to give your discharged men a
chance. Now there were two or three given their walking
papers to-day," continued the Colonel, with provoking cool-
ness, his lips twitching under his handsome gray mus-
tache.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Colonel, don't rub it in! I'll
make it all right with those men. Just think what's hap-
pened to the Amity Works all the time you've been keep-
ing me waiting aud begging."
"I know what's been happening, Mr. Manners," said the
veteran officer, calmly, " and you don't know what wouldn't
have happened but for the prompt action of the very regi-
ment you saw fit to ridicule, and the very men you kicked
out of their clerkships because they obeyed the order to
turn out, as it turned out, to save you and your works. I
ordered two companies tin-re twenty minutes ago. The
mob scattered at their coming, and not a dollar's worth have
you lost. I only kept you here out of danger for a while,
and now, if you please, Corporal Wallace of my head-
quarters party — with whom possibly you're acquainted —
will conduct you safely back. Jump into the gentleman's
buggy, corporal. Your uniform will pass him through
our lines without detention. Good -night, Mr. Manners.
Next time we send a summons to the works, it '11 probably
be for Sergeant Wallace, and I hope to hear of no further
objection on your part."
And despite sorrow for Jim and anxiety about his father,
Corporal Fred couldn't help feeling, as he drove with his
abashed employer swiftly through the dim yet familiar
streets, that life had some compensation after all.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
864
FIGHTING THE ELEMENTS.
BY W. .1. HENDERSON.
•' T TELL you rlie steamship is a wonderful machine."
JL That was the exclamation of Mr. Powers as he sat
on the deck of the .V. /Y/r/-.s7<«)v/. Away above him tow-
ered the three funnels from which the brown smoke went
swirling away to leeward. Away below him throbbed the
giant quadruple-expansion engines, turning the twin screws
over nearly ninety times a minute, and hurling the massive
fabric forward through the sea of sapphire and silver twen-
ty-one knots an hour. Little Harry Powers, who sat beside
his grandfather, thought the steamer a fine thing too, but
he was not rjuite so much impressed with it as was the old
man. because he had not lived in the days when there were
no steamers.
"No buffeting head winds and head seas for months at
a time now," exclaimed Mr. Powers. "Steam is invin-
cible."
" Urn — yes, generally," said Captain Ferris, who was go-
ing over as a passenger to bring out from Gourock a new
yacht.
" Why not always ?" asked Mr. Powers.
"Well, in order to answer that question," replied the
Captain, thoughtfully, "I must tell you that some steam-
ers are not as large and powerful as others."
" Of course I know that," said Mr. Powers, rather impa-
tiently, " but they all manage to get across in defiance of
the winds."
"Perhaps I'd better tell you of an instance I have in
mind," said the Captain.
" Do so by all means," answered Mr. Powers ; and Harry
leaned forward attentively, because he perceived that a
yarn of the sea was forth-coming. Captain Ferris settled
himself comfortably in his chair, cast a look around the
horizon, and then launched into his story.
"Three years ago," lie said, " 1 was in Hamburg in com-
mand of tlie steamship llrixluir. She is ,-i vessel of alionl
1200 tons, and is in the carrying trade, though she occasion-
ally takes half a do/en passengers al' low rates. I was
ready to get under way for \Y.w Vm-li when u man, ae, ,,,
pa i lied by a boy about (lie age- ol'y.mr grandson there, came
aboard and applied for passage, lie said thai lie Uid conn-
to Europe on business, and bad received word thai his wife
was very sick in New York. He was anxious to get home,
and my ship was the tirst that was going. I advised hini
to wait three days and take the Hamburg-American liner,
which would arrive fully five days before us ; Imt he said
he bad riot money enough to go that way except in the
steerage, and he could not think of doing that because his
boy's health was none too good. So, of course, I agreed to
take the two. The boy looked up at me and said,
" ' Thank yon, sir ; and please make the ship hurry, be-
cause mamma is waiting for us.'
" I promised him I'd do my best, and, indeed, I did make
up my mind to push the ship as she'd never been pushed
before. We sailed at three o'clock on June 28th — I remem-
ber that date well enough. It was a lowering- damp after-
noon, with a brisk southwesterly wind, and as soon as we
got fairly out into the North Sea the ship began to butt
into a nasty chop that sent the spray flying over her bo\\s.
But I was able to escape the worst of it by hugging the
Holland coast, and so got down into the English Channel
in some comfort. But now it was no longer possible to
hug the coast, for that would have carried me too far out
of my course. However, the Bristow made good progress
till we passed Fastuet Rock and got well out into the At-
lantic. And there our troubles began. The morning of
our third day out dawned with a hard low sky, a dead
FOB TWO WEEKS, INCH BY INCH, THE "BKISTOW" FOUGHT AGAINST A SERIES OF Wlis TICKLV GALE
865
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
calm, ami a deep, long, oily swell uuderrunning the ship.
She rolled pitiably indeed. The barometer began to fall,
and the wind rose and became very unsettled. I think
that before noon it blew from every point of the compass,
and some of the gusts were regular white squalls. The
swell was running from the south, but the wind was chief-
ly from the west, southwest, and northwest. Toward even-
in s: the wind settled down, and by dark it was dead calm.
But the terriffic swells that swept up from the south, the
gradual fall of the barometer, and the lurid state of the sky
told me that there was a lot of trouble ahead of us yet.
We were about 400 miles west of Fastnet at ten o'clock,
and I lay down, giving my first officer instructions to call
me in case the wind rose. Just before midnight I was
aroused, and went on deck to liud the wind coming in short
angry blasts from the uor'west. At midnight it came out
with the full force of a hurricane right in our teeth. In a
short time a- terrible confused sea was running. It was a
frightful night. At three o'clock in the morning a thun-
der-storm swept over with the gale. Fierce lightning and
a deluge of rain combined to make an appalling scene.
Daylight found the ship reeliug and staggering over huge
jagged walls of water that loomed up ahead of her as if
they would swallow her. Just after four o'clock a fearful
sea fell bodily over the starboard quarter and stove in one
side of the cabin, iilling it with water. I saw that it was
madness to try to drive the ship against such weather, and
I hove her to. When I went to my breakfast, Mr. Howard,
my passenger, and his son were there, very quiet and with,
white faces.
" ' Will the ship sink, Captain ?' asked the boy.
" ' Oh no,' I answered ; ' she's all right.'
" ' But we sha'n't get home to mamma so soon,' murmured
the boy, mournfully.
"I had hove the ship to so as to bring the damaged side
of the deck-house to leeward, and I set the carpenter at
work repairing it. We were hove to for twenty-eight
hours, and then, the weather moderating somewhat, I start-
ed the Sristoii' ahead at half speed. We had drifted back
fully seventy-live miles, and as we did not make more than
three knots an hour ahead, it took us fully a day to recover
the lost ground. Although the force of the \viud had abated,
it was still blowing a gale, and the sea was sufficiently heavy
to impede our progress very much. In all my experience
at sea I have never met with such heart-breaking weather.
If the wind had only shifted to our beam I would have been
profoundly grateful, while a hurricane on our quarter, dis-
turbing at any other time, would have filled me with joy.
That boy's pale anxious face and the thought of the sick
mother at home haunted me as I walked the reeling bridge
or clung to its rail, and held my breath when some green
wall crashed down upon our forecastle deck. But the
westward sky seemed to be made of chilled steel, and out
of its pitiless lips blew one gale after another, and all full
of a biting cold that made the name of summer a foolish
jest. For two Weeks, inch by inch, the Hristoic, running
her engine at its full power, fought her way against a series
of westerly gales. The decks were white with crusted salt,
and the iron-work became browned with rust, until the ship
began to look old and haggard from her struggle with the
elements. But the worst had not come yet. Ou the sev-
enteenth day out, while I was at my dinner, the palr-faeed
boy and his fa! her sitting opposite to me and gazing at me
in mournful silence, the chief engineer came to me with a
grave eniintciianee. and asked me to step aside that he might
speak with me.
'" Captain, 'said he, 'I am sorry to tell you that the coal
in our bunkers is getting very low, and that unless we
make better headway it will run out before we make
port.'
'"Cut up all the spare wood in the hold,' I said, 'and
feed that to the furnaces.'
"The engineer went away shaking his head, and then
the boy came up to me and said,
" ' Captain, are we erer going to get home f
"'Oh yes.' I said, with an effort to appear ehcerfnl; 'of
course \\ e are. We're doing very well now.'
•• The hoy looked at me reproachfully and walked away.
His father hadn't said a word to me for two days. But I
declare it wasn't my fault. Well, you may think we had
had our share of trouble, but we were not through yet.
On the afternoon of July 20th several large ice-floes were
.sighted, and that night the ship ran into a dense field of
ice. By this time most of our spare wood had been burned,
and we were depending largely on our sails to carry us
along, while the wind, which was still blowing half a gale,
was almost dead ahead. And here we were in an ice-field
that hemmed us in as far as the eye could see. The tem-
perature of the air was bitterly cold, and it seemed as if
we had been plunged into the midst of arctic regions. The
ice-floes crashed and groaned, gulls whirled phantomlike
and screaming above our stained spars, and all the time
the wind blew aguinst us as if some supernatural force
were bent on driving ns back. On the evening of the 21st
the ship's carpenter came to nie and said,
" ' Captain, there are six inches of water in the hold.1
" For a minute, I think, I could not speak, for this new
misfortune quite stunned me.
" ' Have you found the leakf I asked at length.
" ' Not yet, sir,' he answered. ' It is somewhere forward,
though.'
"•Make a close search for it, and let me know at ouce,'
I said.
" He went below, and in about half an hour reported that
one of the plates in our starboard bow had been cracked
by the ice. The break was below the water-line, but I
succeeded in stopping it up by melting some tar, which I
fortunately had aboard, and pouring it into the crack. Our
engine was stopped altogether now, because the ice w as so
thick that it was dangerous to push the vessel ahead.
There was a good deal of sea nnderruuuiug the ice, and it
required the greatest skill and watchfulness to prevent
disaster. To avoid injury altogether was quite impossible.
At four bells in the> morning watch on July 23d, while we
were still in the ice-field, there was ajar and a crash. I
sprang from my bunk, in which I had been lying dressed,
and jumped on deck.
" ' What in the world lias happened now ?' I cried.
" ' Carried away our rudder, sir,' called the second mate,
who was leaning over the tatt'rail.
"The pale-faced boy came up to me, and looking into
my face with his great solemn eyes, said,
" ' What shall we do now ?'
" ' Rig another,' I answered as bravely as I could.
"I'm not going1 to describe to you the rigging of a jury-
rudder, because it's one of the commonest feats of sea-en-
gineering ; but I will tell you that it cost us a day's hard
work, and required the use of some spare stuff which I
would have been very glad to put into the furnaces, for
the coal supply was becoming smaller and smaller, and we
were seven hundred miles from the nearest port. Well.
we were twelve long, heart-breaking days in the ice. For-
tunately it rained heavily during two of those days, and by
using everything we had on board, including the boats, to
catch the lain, I succeeded in fairly replenishing the sup-
ply of water in our tanks. We were fortunate in having
an unusually large supply of food, and this alone saved ns
from falling into the straits of hunger. We had plenty of
everything except beef and pork. These articles were ex-
hausted, and we had to depend upon canned food, bread,
crackers, tea, and coffee. But we had enough of those to
last us three months, so that I did not deem it necessary
to shorten the allowances. On August 2d we got clear of
the ice, and began to make progress at the rate of four
knots an hour under sail and a little steam, but three
points off our course. In all this time we had sighted no-
thing save one distant sail; but on August 3d, to our in-
tense joy. a steamer rose over the horizon ahead of us. I
set signals of distress, and they were seen. The steamer
proved to be the Argonaut, from Halifax for Liverpool, and
her Captain agreed to towr us into Halifax. It was a long,
long way, and we kue\v it would be a slow task, but the
thought of it lightened every heart. My men jumped
eagerly to the task of passing the great hawser, and at
four o'clock in the afternoon it was stretched, and the
Argonaut began to drug us westward at six knots an hour.
-HC,
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Our ship's comi>iiiiy gathered ill tlie bow and gave a cheer,
and the boy smiled and said,
' 'At last we shall get home to fnamma.'
"I turned iu after that and slept the .sleep of exhaus-
tion. The Argininiit towed us gallantly for a&O miles ; and
then, on the uigut of August 5th, we ran into another gale
from the nor'west. It was uot as bad as those we had pre-
viously encountered, but it checked our advance, and be-
fore morning had raised a heavy sea. At eight o'clock the
tow-line parted with a report like that of a gun. To think
of stretching it again iu such a sea was hopeless, but the
.li-i/iiHKiit lay by us all day. Several times in the course of
the following night we saw her lights, but before morning
tin- wind shifted to the southeast, a fog came up, and we
never saw the Argonaut again. Sadly we set sail on the
/>Yi*/»ir,aml began to move slowly through the still troubled
waters. But at nine o'clock the fog cleared off, the wind
hauled to the eastward, and the sea became moderate. I
was now able to set every stitch of canvas on the vessel
with a fair wind, and I laid rny course for St. John's, New-
foundland. We forged ahead at four knots an hour, and
hope revived iu every breast. But before night the wind
fell light, and our progress became nothing better than a
drift of two knots hourly. Still we were going ahead, and
we diil not despair. Calm weather and light winds con-
tinued till August 10th, and then the wind came in ahead.
We were now about two hundred miles from Cape Race.
Two schooners passed us in the course of the day, and I
signalled to them our condition, asking them to report us,
and they promised to do so. I now determined to use the
last fuel I could tiud aboard the ship. Our coal had been
exhausted, and I did not dare to strip the spars from the
masts lest I should still need them to make sail. All the
bulkheads in the ship were iron, hut I had every available
bit of wood-work cut away, including the doors, and so
made enough steam to start the engine again. We went
ahead very slowly all that day, but the following morning,
when 38 miles southeast of Cape Race, we came to a stand-
still. Our fuel was all gone, and the boilers were cold.
' ' What shall we do now ?' asked the pale-faced boy.
' ' Send a boat to Cape Race for help,' said I.
"My first officer, Hiram Baker, and four seamen volun-
teered to make the voyage, and at nine o'clock, with a well-
provisioned and unsinkable life-boat, they pushed off from
the ship. We watched them out of sight with aching
hearts and throbbing eyes. There was a light breeze from
tin- westward, and the life-boat was able to work to wind-
ward, so she could come pretty near laying her course. The
weather seemed settled, and I felt, that unless some unfore-
seen accident occurred she would reach her destination be-
fore the next day. And so, indeed, she did. Two power-
ful sea-going tugs were despatched from St. John's, and on
the afternoon of August 12th they hove in sight. Two
hours later they had us in tow, and that night we arrived
in St. John's, six weeks and three days out. The boy and
his father hurried off to the telegraph office and sent a
message to New York. In the morning a messenger came
aboard with an answer. I can never forget with what
eager hands Mr. Howard toro open the envelope. Then he
threw his arms around his buy and said,
" ' She is much better!'
'"Then we shall be at home in time, after all.'
"And he came up to me and gave me a kiss, which re-
warded me for all my struggles.''
IN the thirteenth century the Chinese government issued
some paper currency. To-day there are probably hut two
notes ol that issue extant. One is in the British Museum,
and the other in the possession of the Oriental Society of
St. Petersburg. These notes were issued in the reign of
Hung Woo, the founder of the Ning Dynasty, who died in
1393. The face value of the notes is about a dollar, .-mil
that issue of paper currency was the only one ever guaran-
teed by the Chinese government. To-day these notes are
probably the rarest and most valuable of currency issues.
Nearly all note collectors and Chinese bankers are fully
aware of their existence and their value.
STKWED QUAKKi;.
BY MAHIiAKKT L. SANGSTER.
T DON'T like to be very ill — just ill enough to make
L her,
(My grandmamma) say softly, "Child, I'll lix Vou sm.ic
stewed Quaker."
It's sweet and thick and very nice, ami has molasses .11
it,
And lots of vinegar and spice; yon want it every min-
ute.
And being medicine, of course you sip and say it's dandy.
Just only think! it's medicine, and tastes like 'tally candy!
Now castor-oil and squills, and stuff that wrinkles up
your forehead,
And puckers up your mouth, and gags and burns, are
simply horrid.
/ don't mind being ill at all, if darling grandma '11 make
her
Nice dose she used to make for pa when he was young
stewed Quaker.
HIS WHEEL SAVED HIS LIFE.
flMlE bicycle has proved useful as a life-saving machine
. in many instances, but it remained for John O'Hara,
of Broome Street, in New York, to discover how good a bi-
cycle is as a means of escape from a mad dog. John is a
well-grown lad, and is so fond of bicycle-riding thai he
goes on wheeling trips through the streets of the Kast Side.
All of these streets are crowded, but probably no one of them
is so jammed full of pedestrians and push-carts and ped-
dlers' wagons as Forsyth Street. Experts say that mi oili-
er part of the world is so thickly populated as this neigh-
borhood, so you can easily imagine how difficult it must ho
to go wheeling a bicycle through it.
John O'Hara was enjoying a pleasant spin on the smooth
asphalt pavement of Forsyth Street, near Broome, at noon
the other day, when he noticed the crowd .seattering right
and left, and diving into open hallways and down cellar
stairs. Presently he heard a cry of "Mad dog!" |[,
wheeled around and turned to flee to the southward. As
he hurried away he looked back over his shoulder, and saw
a big white dog galloping after him, its red tongue lulling
out. and yellow foam dripping from its open jaws. As the
dog ran it turned and snapped viciously right and left.
The cries of the crowds on the sidewalk warned everybody
on the pavement, so that there was a clear Held ahead of
O'Hara for several blocks. He- pushed hard on the pedals,
and sprinted away as hard as he could. If he could only
be sure of plenty of headway he knew he would l,e sale.
The dog was not running very fast. I'm- his gait was ill
tain, and he wavered from side to side.
If O'Hara had turned out into any of the side streets he
would have been safe, but in the excitement of the moment
he did not think of this. His one idea was to run ahead as
fast as possible. Now and then the carls and wagons in
the street were slow in turning out, and U'Hara had to
slow up. In this way he ran live blocks, n<>\v gaining on
the dog, and now almost oxei-taUi-n. At Canal stn.t tin-re
was such a jam of vehicles that the bicycle rider al si
had to stop. The d->L: LVilh'ped ahead ol' him. snappi
the n heel as it went past. O'llara might ha\e e\.n Ihen
turned northward for safety, hut he was too excited, as
plohahly must of us would ha\e 1 n ill his place II,-
kcpt straight ahead, and as the dog fell in I'mnt u|' him,
the wheels of the bicycle pass, ,1 ,,\,-i- its neck and stunned
it. Away went < )'IIara at full speed, and a policemai
Innately near al hand, shot and killed the dog before it
could recover. I'rohahh this is the first time that a
cle was ever used as a weapon as well as a means of flight
from danger.
867
HAKPER'S ROUND TABLE
TWO BRAVE MEN.
IT has frequently been asserted that no
fortifications of masonry could resist
modern ordnance, and this is doubtless
true so far as heavy siege guns are con-
cerned. But iu the recent war against
China the Japanese troops found on sev-
eral occasions that with their light bat-
teries of field and mountain artillery they
•were unable to make any impression
upon the heavy stone defences of some
of the walled Chinese towns. The gates,
especially, seemed able to resist any
amount of bombarding, for the masonry
was much thicker and higher at these
points, and frequently there were three
and four heavy iron-bound oaken doors
to be broken open before an entrance
could be effected. The attacks on these
walled towns furnished occasions for a
number of brave deeds on the part of the
Japanese soldiers, who proved themsch <•>
to be reckless in the display of courage,
and absolutely fearless in thr t'.-ic-c- of the
greatest dangers. One of the first occa-
sions of the kind was at Kin-chow, a good-
sized town surrounded by a verv high stone
wall with only a few gates. The Japanese
artillery had been firing at the principal gate for an hour
or so without effect, and the infantry had made assault
after assault against the perpendicular walls without being
able to dislodge the euemy, who were well screened behind
battlements and embrasures. At. last the commander of
the attacking force decided that the only way to get into
the town would be to blow open the gate with dynamite
or uitro-glycerine. It was all very well to decide upon
this, after looking at the heavy doors from a distance
through field-glasses, but it was an entirely different mat-
ter to put the explosive iu place anil set it off.
Nevertheless, as soon as it was announced that it had
been determined by the commander to blow open the gates,
Onoguchi Tokuyi, a private soldier of the corps of engineers,
volunteered to take the cartridge and place it under the
doors. He rushed from among his companions and ran
straight for the wall, from the top of which the Chinese
poured a perfect hail of bullets at him. But the Chinese
soldiery never aim, and usually fire with their eyes closed,
so that Tokuyi reached the gate unharmed. He placed the
bomb under one of the hinges, lit the fuse, and only had
time to retreat a few steps when with a roar and a crash,
the great oaken doors were torn to pieces and fell inward.
The soldier was knocked down by the force of the explo-
MIMURA CLIMBING THE WALLS OF PING-YANG.
868
TOKUYI BLOWING UP THE GATES OF KIN-CHOW.
siou, but he quickly picked himself up, and, leaping through
the dust and smoke, placed a second cartridge under the
inner gate and blew that open iu the same way. By this
time a perfect avalanche of Japanese infantry was pouring
through the opened doorway, and in a very few minutes
the Chinese were in full rout. Tokuyi was found uncon-
scious after the fight, lying near the second door. He had
been hit iu the shoulder by a bullet as he entered the outer
gate. He was treated by the army surgeons, and sent home
to Japan to get well, and then he was decorated for his
bravery by the Mikado.
A similar exhibition of courage was given by an infan-
tryman at the storming of the Genimuu Gate at Ping-Yang.
There, too, the thick stone walls proved impervious to Jap-
anese shot and shell, and after two fruitless assaults it was
derided to try some other method. Lieutenant Minmra
volunteered to open the gate single-handed, but Private
Harada stepped out and said he would follow along and
help. Both men then ran for a corner of the gateway,
while their comrades diverted the attention of the Chinese
defenders by keeping up a hot fusillade. Jlimura and
Harada clambered quickly up the face of the wall by pla-
cing their hands and feet in the chinks between the stones.
They succeeded in reaching the top without being seen by
the Chinese, who were busy blazing away
at the maiu body of the euemy, and then
jumped down and rushed for the inside of
the gate. They had to cut their way
through a. horde of Chinamen as soon as
they had gotten inside the town; but they
finally beat them off, aud threw the bolts
of the heavy gates, that were at once
shoved in by the attacking force outside.
Both Lieutenant Mimura and Private
Harada were promoted the next day.
Two neiiilrnien had a rather lively dis-
pute, which finally wound up in a an agree-
ment to tight it out in a duel. One of the
gentlemen was extremely thin aud the
other stout. The stont gentleman com-
plained that it would be useless for him to
fire at such a shadow, for one might as
well expect to hit the edge of a razor as to
hit the man. Whereupon the lean man
made the proposal to chalk a line down
the fat man, and if his shot failed to take
effect within the narrow side of the line it
wouldn't count.
GREAT MEN'S SONS.
THE SOX OF LUTHER.
BY ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS.
, -
/" i.V*.
on a Saxon hill-side over-
looking the pleasant val-
ley of the, Itz, and in the
shadow of the loftier
Fraukenwalds, stands an
old castle now gray with
age and rich in memories.
In one of its many guest
rooms, near an open win-
dow, about which crows
and jackdaws liniig with
swirl aud clamor, there
sat, many years ago, a
stockily - built, firm - fea-
tured, fearless-eyed man writing a letter.
Armed men (ill the castle; upon its walls aud on its
highest turrets watchmen stand on guard; above it floats
the standard of the Elector of Saxony ; and the great gate
opens only to the summons of those who come with creden-
tials or password.
The time is one of anxiety aud excitement, for the Prot-
estant Princes of northern Germany have taken a hold
^and against their lord the Emperor. Messengers ride
daily to and from the castle, aud letters are sent now this
way aud uow that, freighted with important measures or
hot with words of protest, counsel, aud appeal, strength-
ening those who waver, restraining those who are over-
hold!
As by his open "window in the ancient castle of Cohnrg,
where his presence is honored and his word is law, the
strong man sits at work. What is the letter that he writes .'
Who is the Prince or preacher for whom his words of wisdom
are penned ? Is he a soldier issuing commands, or a coun-
cillor sending advice to Elector, Duke, or King .'
We draw near the writer, and as we ]n.,k c>\ IT his slinul-
der, following the queer old (iermaii script his qniek <|iiill
traces on the paper, this is what we read:
"Grace and peace in Christ. My lie.-ir little son, I am glad in
hear that thou learnest well and pnivest 'lili^-'iitU •. [in tins, mv
son, and continue it; when I return home I will bring ihee a tine
fairing.
"I know a beautiful cheerful garden, in which many children
walk about. They have golden coats on, and gather beautiful ap-
ples under the trees, and pears and cherries and plums ; they sii:;_',
and jump about, and are merry ; they have' alsn tine little horses
with golden bridles and silver saddles. And I asked the man,
' Whose children are they?' He replied, 'Tin'-*1 ;nf th<' i-hiMi-'u
who like to pray and learn and are pious.1 Tin -n I said, ' \h good
man, I have a son j his name is John Luther, niav he IIMI also
come to this garden to eat such nice apples and pears, and ride
such fine little horses and play with these children?' And tin
man said, ' If he likes to pray and learn and is pious, he shall
come to this garden with Philip and James; and when tl .•
come together they shall have pipes and cymbals, lutes and c.thi-r
musical instruments, and dance, and shoot with little em — how-.
"And he showed me a fine meadow in the garden prepared for
dancing, there being nothing but golden pipes, cymbals, and
beautiful silver cross-bows. But it was yet early and tlir rliilihvn
had not dined. Therefore I could not wait fur the dancing, and
said to the man, 'My good master, I will go quickly and write all
this to my dear little son John, that he may pray diligently, learn
well, and be pious, that lie also may be admitted into this garden ;
but he hath an Aunt Lena whom he must bring with him.' The
man answered, 'So be it; go and write this to him.'
"Therefore, my dear little son John, learn and pray with all
confidence; and tell this to Philip and James, that they also may
learn and pray; and ye will all meet in this beautiful g.i
Herewith I commend thee to Almighty God. (iive greeiim:- to
Aunt Lena, and also a kiss from me. Thy father who loves thee.
" 19th June, 1530. MARTIN LUTHKR."
JOHN WAS THE COMPANION OF HIS FATHER IN MANY EXPEDITIONS
869
HARPER'S EOUND TABLE
A cheery, bright, helpful, storylike letter to a boy, is it
not ? And written from that old German castle in a time of
danger a nd of controversy. And the writer is neither soldier,
jirince, uor priest, but greater than soldier, prince, or priest,
flic one man who gave the death-blow to the ignorance of
the Dark Ages, and changed the history of the world. For
the writer was Martin Luther, the apostle of the Reforma-
1 ion, the " renegade monk " who dared, in spite of Pope and
Orders, to tell the world that alike the Word of God and
the conscience of man were free, and who, in the year 1521,
commanded by Pope and Emperor to take back his bold
words, heroicly said, in the midst of enemies, and in the face
of almost certain death: "I may not, I cannot retract;
for it is neither safe nor right to act against conscience.
Here stand I. I cannot do otherwise. God help me."
And the little four-year-old boy to whom this storylike
letter was written was Luther's first-born, the dearly loved
"sou John." He was named for his grandfather Hans (or
John) Luther, the Saxon1 miner, and he was born in June,
1526, iu the cloister-home in Wittenberg, where, his father,
Martiu Luther, had first lived as monk, and afterwards as
master. For when that monk made his heroic stand, and
the nieu of North Germany followed him as a leader, the
Prince of his homeland, the Elector of Saxony, gave him as
his home the Angnstinian convent at Wittenberg, deserted
by the monks, who would not follow him whom they called
" the renegade."
Here in the cloisters of the old convent, close to the city
wall, and almost overhanging the river Elbe, Martin Lu-
ther and his wife Catherine made their home; here they
received into their household students, professors, travel-
lers, and guests — men anxious to hear the glad tidings
of religions freedom that this great leader proclaimed to
Germany and the world, and here, as I have told you, iu
June, 1526, little '• Hanschen," or "Johnny" Luther was
born .
Luther was a man who loved home and family ties, and
from babyhood little John was most dear to him. The Re-
former's letters to his friends are full of references to the
small stranger who had come into the Wittenberg home;
and neither hot religious disputes, knotty theological prob-
lems, nor grave political happenings could crowd Johnny
out of the father's heart.
We get these glimpses of " our John" frequently.
•'Through the grace of God there has come to us," he
writes to oue of his friends, "a little Hans [John] Luther,
a hale and hearty first-born " ; and a few days later he says
that, with wife and son, he envies neither Pope nor Em-
peror. Of the year-old boy he writes, iu May, 1527, "My
little Johnny is lively and robust, and eats and drinks like
a hero."
That yenrof 1527 some terribly contagious disease, called,
as all such "catching" illnesses then were, " the plague,"
visited Wittenberg and converted the Luther household
"into a hospital." "Thy little favorite, John" — thus he
closes a letter to a friend — "does not salute thee, for he is
too ill to speak, but through me he solicits your prayers.
For the last twelve days he has not eaten a morsel. 'Tis
wonderful to see how the poor child keeps up his spirits;
he would manifestly be as gay and joyous as ever, were it
not for the excess of his physical weakness." It was in the
midst of the poverty and worry that the plague and the
other crosses he endured brought about that Luther wrote
his great hymn, "Eiu feste Burg ist unser Gott," one of the
grand and triumphant "Hymns of the Ages," and we can
imagine that, with his powerful voice, he rang the hymn
out gladly when, iu December, 1527, he could write thank-
fully, "Our John is well and strong again."
Luther was a great letter-writer, and in the midst of
pressing duties and important deeds, away from his loved
ones, he could always tiud time to write home. Many of
I hcse " letters home " remain on record, beginning " To the
gracious dame Catherine Luther, my dear spouse, who is
tormenting herself quite unnecessarily"; or, " To my sweet
wife Catherine Luther von Bora. Grace and peace iu the
Lord. Dear Catherine, we hope to be with you again this
week, if it please God." But one of the most famous of the
Luther letters is that one which, when " our John " was
just four years old, his father wrote from the old castle of
Coburg, in the shadow of the Saxon mountains, and in the
midst of stirring times, sitting at the window, as we have
seen, while outside the crows were cawing and the jack-
daws were chattering, and armed men guarded the great
letter- writer as the most precious of Germany's posses-
sions.
Five boys and girls blessed that cloister-home at Witten-
berg. The Luthers were never " well-to-do"; sometimes
they were so short of money — for Luther was overgenerous
iu his charities — as to feel the pinch of poverty. But Lu-
ther had friends in high places who would not let him
want, and he was therefore able to give his boys tutors at
home and good instruction later on in life.
"Sou John " could scarcely be called a brilliant scholar.
Indeed, he was a bit dull, and inclined to take things easy.
In this his mother seems to have been just a trifle paitial
to her first-born, and inclined to help him thus take things
easy. So, when he was sixteen, " son John " was sent
away to school.
From the letter which he bore from his father to Mark
Crodel, the teacher of the Latin school in the Saxon town
of Torgau, young John seems to have entered the school as
a sort of "pupil-teacher," for thus the letter runs:
"According to our arrangement, my dear Mark, 1 send
thee my son John, that thon niayst employ him iu teaching
the children grammar and music, and at the same time
superintend and improve his moral conduct. If thou suc-
ceedest iu improving him. I will send thee two other sous
of mine. For, though I desire my children to be good
divines, yet I would have them sound grammarians and ac-
complished musicians."
Young Joint would seem to have been sent to Torgau as
one needing correction ; and, indeed, I am afraid he was
not always a good or a dutiful son ; otherwise it is hard to
explain the words of Luther when one of his friends spoke
of the boy's frequent attacks of illness. "Ay," said Dr.
Luther, " 'tis the punishment due to his disobedience. He
almost killed me once, and ever since I have but little
strength of body. Thanks to him I now thoroughly under-
stand that passage where St. Paul speaks of children who
kill their parents uot by the sword, but by disobedi-
ence."
Just, how the sou " near]}* killed" his father we cannot
say. It. may have been the great man's strong way of put-
ting things, but evidently "son John" also needed refor-
mation.
However that may be, we catch more glimpses of John's
good side than of his bad. He was the companion of his
father in many of his expeditions about Germany, and he
was with him on that fatal trip to Eislebeu iu January,
1546, to reconcile the quarrelsome Counts of Mansfeld.
With his boy he forded the icy rivers Mulde and Saale,
where they nearly lost their lives, and where the Reformer
doubtless " caught his death." Escorted by horsemen and
spearmen, Luther and his son entered Eislebeu ; the Counts
of Mausfeld were reconciled, but Luther fell sick, aud that
very night, the 18th of February, he died.
All Germany mourued the great man's death ; all Ger-
many hoped that his sous might follow iu the father's steps.
lint the three boys seem only to have turned out respecta-
ble men, without any of the elements of greatness or lead-
ership.
Johu Luther made a fairly good lawyer. He married the
daughter of oue of his professors at Konigsberg University ;
served as a soldier iu the German army ; settled down, aud
died at Kiiuigsberg, in the year 1576, at the age of fifty.
His uame is chiefly remembered as the "dear Johnuy " and
" sou John " of his great father's letters, and of the happy
home circle in the cloister-house at Wittenberg. He left
neither name nor deed to make his memory a word in the
mouths of men ; yet we cannot but feel that, as the sou of
Luther, he must have been proud of the great father whom
he remembered only with love and reverence, and, let us
hope, rejoiced to see the regard the world paid to the
masterful ways of the great Reformer and leader, whose
gifts the son did not inherit, aud whose name lie but feebly
upheld.
870
HARPER'S BOUND TABLE
THE
PUDDING
STICK
This Department isconducted in the interest ot' Girls and \'m\nz Women, mid the Editnr will
be pleased to answer any question on the subject BO far as possible. Correspondents should
address Editor.
THE last Pudding Stick was especially designed for
young people who wish to write for the papers. This
one is also to be about writing, but in rather :i different
line. I hope none of you will be offended if I urge upon
yon the importance of learning to spell. It always gives
me a little quiver of pain — something like thr sudden start
of a nerve in a tooth which is sensitive — when I read a
letter from one of my girls, and tind that she uses two"l's"
where she should use one, or one "t" where two are re-
quired. I think it is easier for some than for others to spell
correctly. Spelling is largely a matter dependent on at-
tention. You may not know it, but your eyes are always
teaching you how to spell, and, unconsciously, as you read
interesting books or the daily paper, you see how words
are spelled, and learn to spell correctly yourself. There is
no excuse for any girl who has both sight and hearing to
blunder in her spelling, when Helen Keller, who can neither
srr iiur hear, spells without ever making a mistake. Helen
writes a beautiful legible hand, and uses a type-writer to
perfection, and yet she has never had the advantages
which most of us possess, having been blind and deaf ever
since her babyhood. The thing is to pay close attention
if you desire to be a good speller. »
VERY much more than we fancy we are dependent for
our style of speech in writing and conversation on the au-
thors we read. Here, too, we need to be attentive. No
bright American girl can afford not to read a few pages of
some good author every day of her life. Mere story-books
are not sufficient. Keep on hand a book which is a, serious
undertaking, and plod straight through it. I have made
this a rule all my life, and I advise you to do the same.
THOSE who have had the good fortune to be early taught
another language besides your own, and who understand
French or German, should keep on hand a book in one of
those languages, and read a chapter or two every day. If
I could I would like to persuade you of the importance of
doing something along the line of a study or an accomplish-
ment every single day. Even a few minutes regularly de-
voted will tell in time to advantage. The president of one
of our great New England colleges used to say to the
students, "Nothing can stand before the day's works."
People who set apart a little while every morning or every
afternoon for a definite purpose, and then never allow
themselves to lose that time, making it up if they are in-
terrupted by extra effort on the next day, soon surpass the
brilliant people who are capable of great exertions now
and then, but never do anything patiently day by day. I
wish, too, that I could say to you as strongly as I feel, " love
your work." "The labor we delight in physics pain." It
seems to me a dreadful thing to go to one's work with the
spirit of a slave. We should always put into our work our
best thoughts, our best hope, and the motive of true love.
No matter what the work, the way we go about it gives it
worth and dignity, or makes it petty and mean.
ANOTHER CAUTION is, do not talk very much about what
you arc- doing. Nothing is so weak as vanity. Somewhere
iu the world there is always someliody doing such work as
ours quite as well as we can do it, and we have no right to
inllict upon our friends the- story of onr personal endeavors
or failures. It is well to omit from our daily conversation
as much as possible references to ourselves and In what we
are engaged upon. I want my girls to become interesting
women, and the woman who is really interesting thinks
and talks of others more than of herself.
IT IS A GOOD PLAX, in order to fix on your mind what yon
read and wish to remember, to keep a commonplace bonk.
Here you may copy poems which please you, dates of strik-
ing events, bits of description, and entertaining anecdotes
One girl friend of mine succeeded thus in making a \ ei \
beautiful compilation, which was afterwards published.
and which ga\e great pleasure In her friends.
£.
ON BOARD THE ARK.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTER I V.
animals poured into the Ark like the tide through
a sluice. They pushed and shoved and crowded, and
many tried to get to the Purser's window ahead of their
turns. The big ones brushed the little ones aside with a
total disregard of gentleness or consideration. But the
Bull soon put a stop to this sort of thing. He stuck his
head out of the window and said all sorts of horrible
things, and vowed he would have the doors closed if tin-
beasts did not preserve better order. Things went along
better after that.
The larger animals came in first: Lions, Tigers, Ele-
phants, Hippopotami, Rhinoceroses, Camels, Giraffes, Drom-
edaries, Buffaloes, Polar Bears, Grizzly Bears, and evcr\
other kind of Bear. Tommy thought he had never seen sn
many different animals in all his life. It beat a circus all
hollow, and it reminded him of the college song his Uncle
Dick used to sing about :
"The animals came in two by two,
Hurrah ! Hurrah !
The animals came in two by two,
Hurrah ! Hurrah !
The animals came in two by two,
The Elephant and the Kangaroo,
And they all got into the Ark before it began to rain !"
After the large animals followed a long procession of deer
— Elk, Antelopes, Gazelles, Chamois, Moose, and Caribou.
Behind these came dogs of every kind — big dogs, bull-
dogs, thin dogs, fat dogs, ga\ ilngs. sad dogs, shaggy dugs.
sleek dogs, and all colored dogs; Greyhounds. Mastitis.
Pugs. St. Bernards, Fox Terrier.-., Setter.-. Pointers, Poodle-.
Great Danes, Skyes, Black-and-Tans. and follies. Toward
the end of the procession came a long-bodied brown dog
w-ith big ears and long straight legs. Toicmy had uevei
seen that kind before.
"What is he?" he said, point ing downward.
The ex-Pirate shook his head, lint the Gopher answered,
"That's a Dachshund."
"A Dachshund f" repeated Tommy; " I gnevsnot. I'aeh
shunds are not built like' that. Look at his
legs."
"Well, that i.s a Dachshund, in-i-ted the Gopher; and
then lie pulled his siinlmniiel o\er hi.- head ai il closed his
eyes for a nap.
The French Poodle was the onl\ one thai li nl RUJ trim
hie with the Hull, because the i'.illl could not speak I'l. n. h
and refused to understand what the Poodle said, 'rummy
plainly heard the dog muttering to himself as lie 1. I
w indow :
-• K.-pece dc John Bull ! II cst ton joins commi
Knl the little hoy could not understand w ha! the Poodle
meant any mine than the liull could, because li.
gotten along any further in hi- French e\eivi-e-book than
"Have \on srr n the g ..... 1 General's red slippers under tl
green table of the \\ine-merrlianr- beautiful i-:"iher-ii
871
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
'WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY SENDING ME A MINIATURE TICKET LIKE THIS?"
law?" And be did not recognize any of the words in the
Poodle's plaint.
Tbe Bull had been losing his temper pretty rapidly ever
since the doors opened, and he seemed to he waiting for a
chance to do or say something ugly. Pretty soon a couple
of harmless and sleepy-looking Oxen came plodding up the
gang-plank and strolled through the doorway.
"Look here!" the Bull shouted at them, "you've got
to leave your chewing-gum outside! No gum-chewing al-
lowed on the Ark!"
One of the Oxen protested, but the Bull asserted that if
the Ox made any trouble he would come outside and settle
the matter himself; and so both Oxen regretfully stuck
their chewing-gum under the gang-plank and passed in. A
little while later a Lizard came along and handed in his
ticket through the small window near the floor. The Bull
looked at it and frowned, and then stuck his head out over
the counter and glared at the little Lizard, who positively
turned green with fright.
"What do you mean by presenting this ticket?" asked
the. Bull, savagely. '
" Please, sir, I want to come iuto the Ark," replied the
Lizard, meekly.
"Well, yon can't get in on this ticket — see?"
"Please, sir, it's the only one I have," continued the
Lizard, trembling.
" Well, look here, young fellow," snorted the Bull, getting
angrier as he spoke; "this ticket is your shape, but it, is
not your size. Yon bought it from a speculator outside!"
" Oh no, sir!" exclaimed the Lizard.
"I don't care what you say. This is the Crocodile's
ticket, and it ain't your size, and yon can't get in on it !"
"Please, sir, I did not know," mildly protested the Lizard.
" I can't read, sir."
" Well, don't you know that the pauper, the insane, and
the illiterate are not allowed on this Ark ?" rnared the
Bull, apparently deriving much pleasure out of the fact
that he was scaring the Lizard half to death. The little
fellow ili.l not in the leaM understand the meaning of these
big words, but he was so frightened by the Bull's ferocious
manner that he turned away and .scurried frantically
down the gang-plank, and hid under a big stone in the1 sand.
" How awfully mean for the Bull to talk like that to such
a little animal!" whisper-
ed Tommy to the ex - Pi-
rate.
" That's what he always
does. Never takes a fel-
low his size," answered the
ex-Pirate. " He bullies the
little ones; that's why he's
called a Bull."
Presently a Crocodile
came stamping up the gang-
plank. He had a business-
like expression in his eye,
and a cold sarcastic smile
displayed his glistening
rows of sharp teeth. He
stepped right up to the tick-
et-window, and thrust his
long snout in so suddenly
that he almost knocked the
Bull off his stool.
'• What do you mean by
sending me a miniature
ticket like this ?" he shouted,
fiercely.
The" Bull stuttered, "I
beg your pardon, sir; but
won't you allow me to look
at the ticket ?"
The Crocodile passed the
paper in.
"Oh, it's all a mistake,"
began the Bull, apologetic-
ally. " I assure you it is all
a mistake —
"I should say it was," interrupted the Crocodile, who
appeared to be in an exceedingly unpleasant frame of
mind. "Do you think for a moment that I am going to
take any such accommodations as that ? Do yon think I can
sleep in any berth that was built for a Lizard '.'"
"It's a mistake," repeated the Bull, affably. "Your
quarters are on the main-deck, starboard side, No. 417," and
he passed out the ticket he had taken away from the Liz-
ard.
The Crocodile did not appear satisfied. He stuck his nose
through the window again and shouted:
" Well, I want satisfaction ! I want satisfaction, and I'm
going to have it — :
But the crowd of animals in line behind the Crocodile,
tired nf waiting, gave a push that sent the latter past the
window and out into the main hall, still mumbling some-
thing about "satisfaction." The Bull looked out of his of-
fice, much relieved, and shouted down the line,
"Somebody tell that Lizard lie cau come in."
It did not take so long as Tommy thought it would for
all the animals to get on board. When the last one had
passed in, preparations were made to haul up the gang-
plank, for the wind had freshened, the skies had darkened,
and the general appearance of the heavens betokened the
approaching storm. Just as the big plank was about to be
taken aboard, faint voices were heard from the ground out-
side:
" Wait a moment! wait a moment !" they cried. " Wait
for us ; we're almost there !"
It was the Turtles. By so close a margin did they get
into the Ark. The Bull scolded them as they passed, and
then slammed down the window, and the Gopher, on the
rafter next to Tommy, heaved a sigh of relief.
Soon afterwards it began to rain. The big drops fell
noisily upon the shingled roof of the Ark, and pattered on
the window-panes.
" What is that noise?" asked a little Armadillo.
" That's the rain, dear," replied its parent.
"Oh no," said the little one; "the reindeer are sleeping
down-stairs."
And then there was a great jolt, and the Ark floated off
on the flood.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
872
INTERSCHOEASTIC
THE INTERSCHOLASTIC MATCHES AT NEWPORT promise to
be more interesting this year than ever before. The
game put up by the various players who are to represent
the schools in the national tournament has been of so much
highrr an order than that of any previous season, that it
has attracted more than the usual amount of attention
from sportsmen not directly interested in the schools.
There is better material blossoming this August than has
come forward for many years, and most of it is coming out
of the schools. The new players who are making them-
selves prominent are all young men — not men who have
been playing many years and have finally developed skill.
Thus it is very evident that the formation of the Interscbo-
lastic Tennis Association has been a good thing, and if
properly supported — as I have no doubt it will be — it is
bound to aid materially the progress and refinement of the
game. It means the early development of good players
and a higher standard in inter-collegiate tennis. Already
iuterscholastic tennis, in its first champion, has given us a
national representative who last year saved our trophy
from foreign hands.
THE HISTORY OF THE MOVEMENT may be summed up in
few words. It was initiated by the Harvard University
Lawn -Tennis Club at the suggestion of its secretary,
William D. Orcutt, in 1891, when the first tournament was
held upon the college grounds, Saturday, May 2d, ten
schools having replied to the circulars and letters by send-
ing representatives — twenty-five in all. The tournament,
played off in two days without a default, was won by R.
D. Wreuu, of the Cambridge Latin School, and created no
small amount of interest both in college and schools as the
large audience at the courts testified. From this beginning
grew the idea of an Interscholastic Association, with an
annual tournament as a national fixture. In 1892, there-
fore, Harvard sent out further circulars inviting prepara-
tory schools to send representatives to a second tournament,
to be held under the auspices of the United States National
Lawn-Tennis Association, by the Harvard Club, with the
intention of forming a permanent association of the schools
at a meeting to be called on the day of the tournament. In
response sixty-six entries were received, representing at
least twenty-four schools. The tournament, held May 7th,
was won by M. G. Chace, another who has since distin-
guished himself among onr ranked players, and afterwards,
as had been proposed, the association was formed.
THE FORMATION OF THE HARVARD Interscholastic Associ-
ation was an incentive to other colleges to attempt similar
organizations, and in 1893, Yale, Princeton, and Columbia
started such associations, and held tournaments. The four
winners of these events met that year in Newport, at the
time of the national tournament, to determine the Inter-
scholastic champion, and again in 1894, after similar pre-
paratory tournaments.
The following table shows the Interscholastic champions
up to date :
Ye,,
Played »t
Singles.
School.
1891 ....
1892 . . .
1893 . . .
1S94 ....
Cambridge
Cumbridjje
Newport,
Newport
R. D. Wrenii
M. G. Cl'ace
C. R Endlong
W. G. Parker
Cambridge Latin.
Univ. Grammar, Prov.
High, Providence.
Tutor, New York.
THESE IXTEKSCHOLASTIC LISTS have already introduced
several fine tennis players. E. D. Wrenii is the present
national champion. M. G. Chace ranked fourth in the ten
of 1893, and by the new method is in '94 ranked in Class 2.
C. R. Endlong entered the first ten the year of his inter-
scholastic championship, and now, with W. G. Parker, is
placed in Class 4, (i 15). It is natural that the older play-
ers should watch the ranks of the interscholastics with .sonic
interest, for it is here that the coming players are most apt
to show themselves first.
THIS YEAR THE CONTESTANTS at Newport will be L. E.
Ware, Roxbury Latin School, of the Harvard I.S.L.-T.A. ;
M. W. Beaman, Lawrenceville, of the Princeton I.S.L.-T.A. ;
and Waltz, Leal's School, of the Columbia I.S.L.-T.A. J. P.
Sheldon, Jun., of Hotchkiss Academy, Lakeville, won the
Yale Intel-scholastic tournament, but may not be able to be
present at Newport this week. Of these four players the
chances seem in favor of Ware, who has already some prac-
tical tournament experience to back his good play. Last
year he won the Harvard Interscholastic, but was defeated
at Newport by W. G. Parker, winner of the championship.
At Longwood, last year, he showed excellent form in his
match against Lamed, from whom he won the first two
sets, and at Saratoga he was "runner-up" in the tourna-
ment for the New York State Championship. This season
he has also appeared in several tournaments. At Long-
wood, having reached the serai-final round, he lost to M. D.
Whitman, whom he had before defeated in the Harvard
Iuterscholastic. In the double contests at Elniira, Ware
and W. M. Scudder played a close match in the finals against
Fisher and Paret. In his game, Ware's strong ground
stroke, quick judgment, and self- possession give good
promise of a future player.
THE NAMES OF THE OTHER»THREE contestants do not
figure so conspicuously in large tournaments. Sheldon
has played in Western State championships, winning in
Ohio, but he has not had the experience of Ware against
onr best Eastern players. He easily won the Yale Inter-
scholastic, not losing a set even to the winner of that
event last year. He is good both back and at the net,
placing with some accuracy, and certainly in these prelim-
inary contests he showed a very good understanding of the
game. If he keeps his steadiness and coolness under the
excitement of closely contested matches he should prove a
formidable adversary for Ware. Concerning Beaman and
Waltz it is more difficult to pass judgment, these, as \et,
having given little public exhibition of their games. Waltz
ranks as a third-rate local player, having been easily beaten
in local matches by the Miles and by Holcouibe Ward at
Orange.
IT IS TO BE REGRETTED that Whitman is ineligible for
the Newport event, for he is a strong man. and has shown
wonderful improvement since Ware defeated him on I Inline*
Field in May. He is sure to become a prominent pla\er in
the early future. Some of the other good men that the
schools have produced, and who will doubtless lie at New-
port, are Beals, Wright, Henderson, and Jloerau of South-
ampton, and Palmer of Hohokns
IT CANNOT HE Iioriiiin that larger co-operation In tin-
different colleges in this tield of iuterscholastic tennis
would be of the greatest benefit to the game in this cmm-
try. It would oiler early incenthe to youim pi
throughout the land, ami CSTrj a step further the general
system of sectional tournaments already instituted In i In-
central assoeiaiinn to spur our players to greater and more
scientific effort. The contests last year at flov pOl
again this spring at tin- Neighborhood Club. West Newton.
Massachusetts, where onr men came in contact \\ith lor-
e in n ers. brought out both onr weakness and our stn
it showed clearly that our worst fault is the unsteadiness
873
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
of Ainericau players. That this early tournament playing,
accustoming young meu to watch their strokes and play
carefully, must aid in remedying this evil among the rising
players hardly needs to be pointed out, while the new op-
portunity of meeting equal or better players must also
promote skill and brilliancy in play. Add to this the closer
ron tact of school and college, and there seems strong argu-
ment for the more vigorous support of such a cause.
IN LESS THAN A MONTH football will be taking np most
of the time and attention that school athletes can devote
to sport. The coming season should be a notable one in
the history of the game too, for it will show whether or
not the schools are going to allow themselves to be influ-
enced by the better or the worse element that is identified
with the game. The better element is the one which has
been trying for years to arrange a code of rules that would
purge the sport as much as possible of opportunities for
the practice of rough and unsportsmanlike methods. The
other element is the one which has been trying for just as
many years to evade the rules laid down. If the school
players will frown upon all unfair methods, and refuse to
countenance sharp practice in the game, if they will in-
sist upon adhering to the spirit as well as to the letter of
the law, they will soon swell the ranks of the better ele-
ment of football men to such proportions that the other
class will find itself entirely overruled.
IT IS UNFORTUNATE that we should be forced to admit
that sharp practice occurs in football to a greater extent,
probably, than in any other sport. But, nevertheless, I think
this is true. More acts of meanness are performed in the
course of one football game almost than in a whole season
of baseball or tennis or track athletics. Meu will punch
and kick one another when the referee is not looking, and
they will resort to all sorts of small tricks that they would
blush to acknowledge afterwards. But, remember, this is
not the fault of the game, it is the fault of the man. And
the endeavor of every true sportsman should be to get this
sort of man out of the way. We don't want him. He does
more harm than good, even if he is the best player on the
eleven.
IT is CONSIDERED CLEVER by many to do as many small
and mean acts as possible in a match game of football.
To resort to petty practices is looked upon by them as
good pla.yiug. But there is no good playing, except fair
and honest playing. These same men who will kick their
opponents in the shins when the umpire is not looking are
those who encourage players to attend school during the
football season, not caring whether they remain afterwards
or not. It is surprising how much of this is done, and I
have actually heard meu say (instead of refusing to play
with a team composed of such men) that they, too, have
hired or obtained players to meet their rivals' crooked tac-
tics. What an argument! Where would the ethics of
sport end up if such logic were to be accepted? Why caii-
not we all become thoroughly imbued with the idea of
sport for sport's sake only? We do not play to ir'm. We
play for the sake of playing — for the sake of the sport,
the exercise, the fellowship, and good blood that is to re-
sult.
LAST YEAR AND THE YEAl: BEFORE there was more than
one school in the Connecticut High-School Lea.gue that re-
sorted to practices not entirely consistent with true sports-
manship. I speak of these now because my attention has
I.e. ii directly called to them, and because I believe from
personal investigation that they were guilty certainly of a
portion of the misdeeds that rumor credited them with. In
the other scholastic football associations I have known of
irregularities, but of none quite so flagrant as those of Con-
necticut. There several football players have suddenly
been seized with a desire to attend school just as the sea-
son opened, and have lost all inclination to study imme-
diately after Thanksgiving.
IT is, OF COURSE, IMPOSSIBLE TO SAY outright that these
men are improperly induced to enter school, for such a
thing is very hard to prove. But it is perfectly just to say
that no Captain of an amateur eleven or of a school e!e\en
should allow any man to play on his team whom he does
not believe to be a bona fidf scholar who means to remain
in school until the end of the year — a scholar who has
come to learn what is taught in the class-room, not what
is practised on the football field.
IT is RIDICULOUS for any Captain to assert that he does
not know what the meu on his team intend doing a month
hence. It is his business as Captain to know this. He
should know where his players come from, how long they
are to be in school, and all about their football experience.
If he does not know all this he is a mighty poor Captain.
and ought to be replaced. And the Captain who allows a
man to play on his eleven whom he suspects of having in-
tentions of leaving school before the year closes is not a fit
leader for an honest school's football team, and should like-
wise be replaced. The best Captain in the end is the most
honest Captain, and the most honest Captain is the best
sportsman.
WHILE SPEAKING OF SPORTSMEN and sportsmanship I
should like to call the attention of all the readers of this
Department to a definition of "sportsman," published in
the "Amateur Sport" columns of //«rynr's ll'i </,/// of August
17th : " A sportsman engages in sport for sport's sake only,
and docs by others as lie would be done by. A 'sporting
man' or 'sport' enters sport for mercenary motives, and
prefers to 'do' others." This is only one sentence from a
very good sermon. I recommend the entire article to every
one interested in the welfare of sport.
THE ACADEMIC ATHLETIC LEAGUE of California has track-
athletic sports as well as football in the autumn term.
Their next semi-annual field-day is to be held September
28th, and from present reports the new material in the
schools is going to make a showing. As the meet is to be
held on the University of California track, which has the
fastest 100-yard course ou the Coast, the A.A.L. sprinting
records, which are at present lOf and 25-1 sees., ought to be
reduced. Parker, Hanilin, and Chick are the most promis-
ing meu to do the work, Chick being a new man and a
brother of the University of California sprinter. Lynch
of the B.H.-S. has gone to Oakland to live, and will wear
the O.H.-S. colors at the next field-day. He has improved
greatly in his hammer throwing. The O.H.-S. team, by-the-
way, stands a good chance of retaining the interscholastic
championship of the Coast, and if the teams are increased
from seven to ten men, as is now proposed, the other schools
will have to work hard to defeat them.
THE CALIFORNIA SCHOOL ATHLETES certainly go ahead
of their Eastern brethren in enthusiasm and true love of
sport. This Department has for some time been urging
the formation of a general Interscholastic Association ; but
as yet nothing has been done toward any such organiza-
tion, although I understand that active steps in this di-
rection are to be taken here as soon as the schools open
next month. It may be due to the long summer vacation
that nothing has been done yet. But in California inter-
est in sport seems to be so lively that there is no vacation
interference. In a recent letter from Oakland, one of the
prominent meu of the A.A.L. says: "In regard to your
proposition for a general American Interscholastic League,
I can say that it meets with the approval of the boys here,
and we would be glad to join it if it is formed. The only
difficulty to our participating in such a field-day would be
the expense for travelling to and fro. If \ve joined such a
league we would try to raise the necessary sixteen hun-
dred dollars. For it would take t hat much, at least, which
is quite a good deal for High-School boys to raise. Will
you kindly let me know of any advances in this direct!
ami also give me an outline of what is intended f"
WITH SUCH A SPIRIT as is displayed in this letter the
sportsmanship of the Pacific coast is bound to thrive.
874
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
These lads are not only willing to join the
Interscholastic Association at once, but they
l>elie\e they can collect enough money to
I iay c.\ | ii 'uses to come East and lie present at
the first meet. I hope they will have the
chance, aud from the letters I ha\e received
front sportsmen along the Atlantic >ca lu»;i 1 i 1,
I helieve that in a very lew months the
inneh-needed association of the schools of
the country will be in runniii", order. Per-
haps one reason why the Califoriiians are
so anxious to come here and try their skill
is that they believe they can win. Their
records are not up to those of the Eastern
leagues, but another writer from Hie A.A.L.
says: "One of the University of California
team told me the Eastern schoolboys are
clever, but that an Oakland High -School
team could pull a field-day away from the
best school of 'em. That makes me wish
w c hail a l!20 straight-away herje, to see how
Dawson and \Vnolsey would appear along-
side of Syme." Dawson holds the local
luuh hurdles record at 19J- sec., aud WooUey
holds the low-hurdles record at 31 sec. The
si ieUs are 3 ft. 6 in. and -2 ft. 6 in. high, re-
spectively.
IN OTHER MATTERS OF SPOUT the Califor-
nians are just as progressive as they are in
their desire to come East. They have recog-
nized the justness of the ROUND TABLE'S
advocacy of uniformity in Held and track
programmes, and are trying to adjust the
A.A.L. list to the university schedule. They
have already adopted a 440-yard run, which
they did not have before, and at an early
meeting of the executive committee on ath-
letics a motion will be made to use a lli-lb.
hammer instead of a 12-lb. weight at the
coming games. The shot is already a six-
teeu-pouuder. TUB GRADUATE.
STAMPS
This Deprtrtin^nt ia hi li-'l m tin' int.'ie,! .,1 glum] I com
collectors, anil [lie Eiliior will IP* |.]c"i-ol !< nnawei
thesi.- snlijeuts so fur as p..sMl>le. Ci.rreiimmi.jnts slioul.l ».Mr«5s Eiliti.r
Stamp Department.
ONE of the greatest "finds" in the his-
tory of stamp collecting has just been
made in Kansas (Jity. The letters of an old
firm were about to be de-
stroyed when the atten
tion of a stamp-collector
was called to them. He
immediately bought the
entire lot of letters for a
small sum. Among the
lot were about oue hun-
dred letters each bearing
oue or more of the rare St. Louis stamp*
issued in 1843, and remaining in use until
1-17. The 5c. stamp has hitherto brought
fromSl">n tos-.Min :,t auction; the lOc. about
$7">, and the only copy of tin- -He. in the mar-
ket was soid in 1S94 by the veteran dealer
J. \V. Scott, usually called "the father of
philately," to a collector in liangor, Maine,
for !jir>0lt. Tliis gentleman, it is said, re-
fused ail otter of *•>;><« I for llle stain]..
In this new lot are a number of pairs of
all tine, • varieties and several strips ot three.
The immediate result will prohabh he lower
prices on :ill three St. Loui.s stamps, Inn i he
demand will probably fully equal the sup
ply.
FIIED.— No premium on tire English shilling', 1MT.
J. HALL.— Very few gold dollar* were evet coined,
aud many Imve found their way lo the melting IIMI,
or have been practically destroyed ti.v rum<-»i<>ii into
hjuiL'li'S. Hence the dealers ask from $1 50 upward
for all U.S. dollars in gold.
H. STEVENS. — It is impossible to give nnylliiii^
more Iban a rough estimate as to the muni
stamp- collectors and dealers, or the value of tbe
stamps now in existence in albums, or the amount "1
annual business done in st:unp>. I hope to give some
statistics on all these points in u future isaue.
M. C. W — It would be very difficult to explain the
dillrivnces in the Brazils and Guateinalas without il-
1 us 1 1 at inns, or within the narrow limits of this column.
I congratulate you on your " find " of \Vurtembergs.
R B. HADDOCK.— The 1S64 and 1S6S 2c. coppers are
quoted by dealers at lOc. eacli for " good," and 50c.
each for "flue."
I'IIII.A us.
AN ASTUTE SEA-LION.
IT has always been a question in the minds
of naturalists whether or not animals have
any means of conversing or of communica-
ting to oue another more thau the most ele-
mentary ideas of danger, hunger, and afl'ec-
tioii. It would seem from what lately hap-
pened at Lake Merced that seals, at least,
must certainly have the powers of descrip-
tion aud persuasion well developed. Lake
Merced was at oue time a favorite resort of
fishermen from San Fraucisco. The trout
that were pulled out of its quiet waters were
said to be the best, but so much annhii",
was done that the l l linally disappear d.
and on I \ carp (Vere to be caught. 'I hen I he
iisll col issioners decided lii slock the lake
with in nska I hinge, iii t lie hope lhal the latter
would destroj i In \ m jeions earp, and even-
tually at'bird g I catches them.M-hes.
l.aKe Merced is nut very far inland from
Seal li'iieK, and in sonic manner an old sea-
lion found his way from the ocean to the
i|llielcr waters bevolld. lie lasted of the
carp and enjo\ed his meal, and h. in- a
genial sort of a sea-lion, he returned to the
rock, where he must have told his friend*
nf his adventure. He nnisl have told them.
and lie must have organized a picnic party,
because the next night a number id seals
Mopped their way into Merced, i:\ei\thing
was just as the old lion had represented, a ml
the band decided to remain.
Scion afterwards some cniplines of the
commissioners drew a net across tin lake
to see how the innskallonge were getting
on. The seals, now permanent resident.* of
the lake, laughed loudly, after the fashion
of their race, and wa\cd their tlappei* at
the net-men as if to eneonia^e them to keep
on and find out how many musk allonge w en-
left. For the mnskallonge had got to the
last dozen or so of carp, and the sea-lions
had gobbled the muskallonge, and only a
few cat-fish were found in the lake.
The seals are still in Merced, but then is
a firm conviction iu the minds of those \\ ho
live near by that unless the lake is stocked
again the greedy fellows will return n> the
rock in the sea.
Highest of all in Leavening Strength. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
J Baking
Powder
JSLY PURE
Go
Camel's = Hair
Chudda Shawls,
75C to $3-5° each-
Worth from $2.00 to $10.00.
t-G 1t£<$L
J
NEW YORK.
875
OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT «'"»;«*
CILLOTT'S PENS at tht.- mi. A..U LjcrosmoH.
• A IV Alt!): "Forexi-ell.il used in their
manufacture, it bem^ MI,- L/I ;uin->i ;uui *• last if ; super-
ior workmanship, espvcinlly .shown by the careful
KTindintf \\ hii-li l.-av.-s tin- pens free fnnii dffffts. The
tempering is i-xi'ellciit ;ind the action >•!' Ilir tinished
pens perfect." d) FKAN7 \
, H. I. K IMP. u.l. . TndtvidvalJvdge.
Approved :-,
(JOHN UnYl" I 11 U
( 'ItnirjiHiti /-Ir.-.-. Com. on Awards.
:
I'i'r \ ear.
HAKI'KliS MAI.A/.IM':.
HAHl'KICS WEKK1.Y ..........
I, VEPBR'S IJAZAR
HAKfi:i; s lan M> rutLE...
.•,!
/Jn.lA N
II Utl'KI! X liUOl IIKKS. >i'i\ ^oik. N.Y.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Bicycle route,
bicycle ro
Railway station
Hill or poor road.
BICYCLING
Copyright, ISEtS, by Harper & Brothers.
/CONTINUING the trip from Philadelphia to Atlantic
V_^ City, the first stage of which was given in the ROUND
TABLE for last week, we start from Hainmouton. The run
from here to Atlantic City is somewhat roundabout, owing
to the nature of the country through which you must pass,
and the run is about forty miles in all. Leaving Hammon-
ton proceed through New Columbia, five miles away, to
Butsto. The condition of the road is not of the best ; but
there are almost no hills, and the side path will, in many
places, save you a good deal of hard riding. There is no-
difficulty iu finding the road, except about three miles and
a half out of New Columbia you should keep to the left at
a fork in the roads. From Batsto to Greenbauk is five
miles over a gravel road in capital condition, and from this
point on to Wading River and New Gretna there will be
little or no difficulty iu finding the way. The road becomes
poorer as you approach Wading River, and the side paths
should be resorted to wherever possible.
THERE ARE SEVERAL bridges to be crossed during this
part of the ride, from Greeubank to Chestnut Neck, and
indeed there are a number of bridges over the entire route.
It may not be out of place to say a word, therefore, about
bicycle-riding over bridges. Most bridges iu the country
are composed of horizontal supports, running lengthwise
witli the bridge, along the tops of wooden posts. Across
tin--:' at right angles to the direction of the bridge are laid
logs, sometimes nailed down to the supports underneath,
sometimes not fastened at all. If they are nailed the wood
wears away quickly, and the heads of the nails stick up
perhaps half an inch, and offer one of the most admirable
opportunities for puncture that could be found. Never
ride over a bridge of this sort at speed, therefore, and al-
ways keep a line between the rows of nails, so that you
may not run the chance of thrusting one of the nail-beads
through your pneumatic tube. If yon are riding at night,
and want to be on the safe side, it is wise to dismount, and
either carry or push the bicycle across the bridge.
FROM GREENBANK TO CHESTNUT NECK, through New
Gretua, is twelve miles. From Chestnut Neck you should
then proceed, following the main road, to Port Republic,
Smithville, Oceanville, Absecom, a distance altogether of
ten miles. Shortly after passing out of Chestnut Neck the
rider must keep to the right at the fork, and run into Port
Republic. On running out of Port Republic he should
bear always to the left, going down through Smithville as
described. There is a road direct to Absecom, as the map
will show, but it is by no means as good a road, and passes
over several hills, that can be avoided by following the
maiu road, which runs along the valley. From Absecom to
Pleasautville, a distance of three miles, the road is clear
enough. At Pleasautville a sharp turn to the left should
be made, and the road thence to Atlantic City is very easily
followed. It follows the track until after crossing the
bridge, then crosses the track and follows it to Atlantic
City on the other side. This part of the road is in moder-
ately good condition, considering that it is so near the
water, and that the sand and gravel do not readily admit
of good hard road bed.
NOTE. — Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of
route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
Connecticut, in No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New
Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814.
Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Nortbport in No. 816.
Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in
No. 818. Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Tottenville to Trenton in 820.
Trenton to Philadelphia in 821. Philadelphia in No. 822. Philadelphia
— Wisenhickon Route in No. 823. Philadelphia to West Chester in No.
824. Philadelphia to Atlantic City— First Stage in No. S25.
876
HAEPER'S EOUND TABLE
Any questions in regard 'to photogmph matters will be willingly
answered by the Editor of this column, and we should he glnd to hear
from any of our club who can make helpful suggestions.
PAPERS FOR BEGINNERS, NO. 13.
DARK-ROOM HINTS.
IN guides to photography, directions are
always given fur varnishing the uega-
tive, but with ordinary care a negative need
not be varnished except for the purpose
of retouching. Retouching means covering
the spots in the h'lm with some non-actinic
substance. Small spots are covered by
touching them lightly with a rather soft
lead-pencil. Sometimes water-color is used
applied with a delicate brush, and some-
times crayons are used.
It is not necessary to varnish a negative
in order to retouch it; for a fluid can be
bought for this purpose, called "retouching
fluid," which is applied locally with a piece
of surgeon's cotton. To "apply locally"
means to put the fluid on the part of the
plate which needs retouching, instead of
covering the whole plate. A bottle of re-
touching fluid costs twenty-five cents, and
will last a long time. Full directions for
use come with each bottle.
Fine retouching is an art, but the ama-
teur can easily learn to cover the spots in
his negative which would disfigure or spoil
his prints.
The small clear spots on negatives are
usually caused by dust on the plate. They
make what are called pin-holes, and wher-
ever these occur in the negative a black
spot will show on the print. Amateurs are
often advised to dust their plates with a
brush before placing them iu the holders.
It requires a very soft brush and a careful
hand to dust a sensitive plate without
scratching the film, and if the plate-holders
and camera-bellows are wiped frequently
•with a damp cloth there will be little dan-
ger of pin-holes from dust spots iu the sen-
sitive plate.
Transparent spots iu the negative are
caused by air-bubbles forming on the plate
when the developer is turned over it, and
the bubbles not being broken, the developer
does not have a chance to act on the
film.
Larger spots on the plate or near the
«dge, which seem less intense than the rest
of the negative, are caused by the plate not
being covered all at once with the devel-
oper. The undeveloped plate should be
placed in the tray and the developing solu-
tion turned over it quickly with a sort of
sweeping motion, and the tray rocked in all
directions till the plate is completely cov-
ered.
Never place a negative in sunshine or
uear a stove to dry. The heat causes the
gelatine to melt and run off the plate. If
for any reason one wishes to dry a negative
quickly, wash it, after removing it from the
hypo, for about half an hour, wipe off the
water with a piece of damp surgeon's rot-
ton, lay the negative iu the tray, ami n.v.-r
it with alcohol. Let it remain iu the ah-o-
hol for a minute or two, then take it out
and set it up to dry. It will dry in from
five to ten minutes, ready for printing.
Sometimes in warm weather I lie edges of
the sensitive plate will come loose from the
glass. This is called "frilling," and occurs
when the. developer is too warm. If the.
plate begins to frill, remove it to a dish of
cold water, and lower the temperature of
the developer by setting it for a few min-
utes iu a dish of ice-water. The tempera-
ture of solutions should not rise above 85°,
or sink below 65° if good results are desired.
In a later paper full directions will be
given for retouching negatives, improving
the high-lights, blocking out backgrounds,
etc. But these belong to the finer part of
the mechanical work of photography.
Siu KNIGHT GLOVKKBKABDBLEY, Auburn, New York,
asks: 1, it one cau use a ruby light safely when put-
ling a plate in the holder; 2, if a plate should be left
in the water after being taken from the hypo, or if it
can be washed off and put to dry at once ; 3, in the
formula for making blue prints, where it says add one
and one-half ounce of citrate of iron and ammonium,
if it means three-quarters ounce each, and does it mean
the ammonium In a liquid or solid form. 1. One may
use a ruby light with safety in filling plate-holdera. It
is wise not to bold the plate too near the light. 2. Neg-
atives should be washed at least half an hour iu run-
ning water, and one hour if one has not running water,
changing the water four or five times. 3. "Citrate of
iron and ammonium" is a double salt formed of ferric
citrate and citrate of ammonium, and comes in brown
shining leaflets. Ask for "citrate of iron and ammo-
nium" when buying the ingredients for the formula.
SIR KMOIIT A. SMITU, Trenton, New Jersey, asks for
a good developing solution, how to polish, ferrotype
plates, and how to keep films from curling when dry-
ing. Makers of dry plates always put in each box of
dry plates formulas for developing, with full directions
for preparation and use. These will always be found
reliable. In No. 786 will be found a simple developer
for instantaneous pictures, and we shall shortly pub-
lish a set of formulas with full directious for use. In
Nos. 797 and 805 will be found directions for prepar-
ing a ferrotype plate so that prints will not stick. If
the prints are trimmed before toning, they can be
pasted before removing from the ferrotype, and thus
most of the gloss made by the plate will be retained.
Films may be kept from curling by soaking the film,
after fixing and washing, in a solution of one-quarter
ounce of glycerine and 16 ounces of water. Pin them
at the corners to a flat board, removing all drops of
water with a soft cloth. Set the board in an upright
position till the films are dry. Do not use any more
glycerine than the proportions given, as it will make
the negatives sticky.
RECALLED STORMY TIMES.
" WEI.I., that looks natural," snid the old soldier,
looking at a can of condensed milk on the breakfast-
table In place of ordinary milk that failed on account
of the storm. " It's the Gail Borden Eagle Brand we
used during the war." — [Adv.]
Walter Baker 4 Go. Limited,
The L»rgtlt liinuftcturtrl of
PURE, HIGH GRADE
COCOAS and CHOCOLATES
)n thi« Continent, htvc received
HIGHEST AWARDS
from the great
Industrial and Food
, \ EXPOSITIONS
\ ;,\ IN EUROPE AND AMERICA.
IflCaution: JL"M?'T«Hlf,,XS
' 'of the laheli and wr«|»p«ri on our
(TfH»i«, eonnnneri ihould mikefure
that our jilnce of manufacture,
namely. Df»rrbe*ter, »!«»•.
IB printed on each package.
SOLD BY GROCERS EVERYWHERE.
WALTER BAKER & CO. LTD. DORCHESTER, MASS.
'""iiiiiHimiiijiiHjiiiiiiijiiiuiiiiniiiHuiimiiiiiiiy
a
lot-.
Noah's Ark
with animals, will be sent postpaid to I
any address on receipt of three 2-cent
stamps. Theanimals are on cardboard
— two and three inches high, naturally
colored, and will stand alone. They
can be arranged iu line or groups,
making an interesting object lesson
in natural history. This offer is
made solely for the purpose of ac-
quainting mothers with the merits of
WILLIMANTIC
Star -A- Thread.
Sendforasetforeachofthechlldren. AtMreas |
WILLIMANTIC THREAD CO.,
\VIHlmuutlc, Conn.
iiittHiiMlnltllllllllllllllllllllllinilllllllllllllllllllllltttiiinttitJB
IV A UTCn Short stories mid articles fm the B.>ys',
nHPIlLU. <iirK, and Laities' Depart mean
Weekly Magazine ; also cuntnljiiiicni* on all impor-
tant subjects, all to be written
P. F. COLLIER, Publisher. .VJI IV. I .".Hi St., >. T.
|)ostngc Stamps,
I ! Ir..
.-t^-fiKf r. .»<(<.> ;il ftUt ' ;
Mo. Uld
U. S. and Conrederate Stamps bought.
100 all dif. Venezuela. ( v>u !{:< :i. <-tc., only
•
•
. k.t>tegnunii,272i Emii'.u ,S
|>IT 10(1 paid f"r cant'
-I'unp-. K.ir partirn! -
•i i.;amp- fir,-. A|.| i
H. P. H ALB RAN, 10] TIIM"-. STRUT, i
877
HARPEK'S ROUND TABLE
Notice to all Hembers.
It is desired to correct the Order's records, es-
pecially all changes in addresses. The new Patent
is now ready, and all will want it. It is far hand-
somer tbau the old certificate. We make a special
request, therefore, to all Founders and memln rs
to send us at once their names and permanent ad-
dresses. Use English capital letters, which you
can easily make with your pen, and spell out in
full at least one Christian or given name.
A " given " name is the name given you by your
parents, as distinguished from your last name,
which you have from your father. Use a postal
card, not a letter, and put no other matter upon it.
Address the card Messrs. Harper & Brothers, Pub-
lishers, New York, and put in the lower left-band
corner the words "Round Table." On the back of
the card write the letter "A, "and follow it with
name, as directed, and address in full— street and
number if any, town or city, and State. If you are
a Founder, write that word in full anywhere on
the card. Your new Patent will then bear that
word. If you were not a Founder, do not use the
word.
Remember that if a certificate was ever issued
to you, you are still a member, no matter if you
have now passed your eighteenth birthday. Chap-
ter officers are asked to send, on postal cards, mimes
and addresses of their Chapter members. They
are also asked to send names of any grown-up
friends of the Chapter whom they may wish to
honor by making them Patrons of the Round Table
Order.
All who have not passed their eighteenth birth-
day, even if not formerly members, are urged to
send postal cards as directed. So, too, are grown
folks interested in the Order. If you have passed
your eighteenth birthday, and have not previously
held a certificate of membership, send your name
and address and use the letter " D." Members are
urged to send names and addresses of their friends,
that we may give Patents to them. Your teacher
may be made a Patron.
To all who comply with these suggestions we will
send Patents in the Order, inuring their names, cre-
ating them Founders, Knights, ladies, or Patrons.
The advantages of belonging to the Order will be
attached — and there are many. We will also send
our prize offers for 1895-6. in which money incen-
tives are to be offered for pen-drawing, story-writ-
ing, i>oems, nonsense verses, entertainment pro-
grammes, photography, and music settings, and
for distributing some advertising matter about
Harper's Round Table.
This matter consists of announcements and a
Handy Book. The latter is a neat memorandum-
book, which, besides blank pages, contains lists of
words often misspelled, interscholastic sport rec-
ords, a calendar, list of books to read, hints about
amateur newspapers, how to get into West Point,
values of rare stamps and coins, and a great num-
ber of other useful facts.
Of course no member or Patron is required or
even asked to undertake this work any more than
they are asked to compete for prizes. Many mem-
bers wish to earn the rewards offered by the Table,
and to all such we desire to offer the first chance.
These rewards consist of Order badges in silver and
gold, rubber stamps bearing your name and ad-
dress, fifty visiting cards with the copper plate,
and a very limited number, because we have only
a few copies, of bound volumes of HARPER'S YOUNG
PEOPLE for 1893 or 1894. These rewards are offered,
not for subscriptions, but for giving printed matter
to your friends. The offer is limited, since we can
allow only one member or Patron to accept it in
each town or neighborhood.
We repeat that the Order has no "have to's. "
But it has many literary and prize advantages.
We want the names and permanent addresses
again in order to correct our records. To all who
M'ii.1 us such we forward the Order's new Patent
and our prize offers. Use a postal card— and write
as soon as convenient.
Who can give Us a Morsel on This ?
An experience I once had with a garter-snake
leads me to believe that the family to which it be-
longs consists of more than one variety. One warm
d;jy in May. while scouring the woods in search of
something of interest, I came upon a small pool at
the edge of the woods, seemingly a drinking-place
for cattle. Yet the water was black with a myriad
of tadpoles, presided over by a monster frog — the
largest I have ever seen. 1 was interested in the
queer little wigglers, and did not notice the ap-
proach of a large snake, making its way to the
pool, till it had taken its fill of water, as I then
supposed. I quickly picked up a stone and killed
the snake, at first thinking it to be a water-adder.
A second glance showed it to be an unusually
large garter-snake, less brilliantly striped than any
I had before seen.
I was about to leave the pool when I saw that
the reptile's paunch was considerably swollen, and
that in it some live creature was imprisoned. This
aroused my curiosity, and in another moment I
had opened the paunch. To my astonishment
seven squirming tadpoles wriggled out upon the
ground. I placed them in the pool, and all swam
off as briskly as before they had. Jonah-like, been
swallowed by a hungry monster.
Since this experience I have questioned in vain
whether or not there is a separate variety of the
garter-snake which lives in or near the water; or
whether the snake was of the common variety,
and simply forced by hunger to make a meal of
tadpoles. Can some one enlighten me?
VINCENT V. M. BEEDE, R.T.F.
EAST OUANGII, N. J.
One Way to Learn.
One of the best ways to broaden one's mental
horizon, to make one think of more than the fa-
miliar things about him, is to enter into corre-
spondence with persons who live in distant States
and countries. You can find such correspondents
in a variety of ways. Look in your geography and
see the name of a town in a far distant part of the
country. Perhaps it is a small village. It has a
principal of a public school. Write him a letter,
briefly stating your purpose, and ask him for the
name of a pupil who wishes to correspond with
you.
Are you interested in stamps, bugs, butterflies,
minerals, rocks, plants, autographs, cameras, ama-
teur papers— anything? Enclose in your letter a
good specimen. It will interest somebody and
hardly fail to bring you a response. You can also
find addresses through Sunday-school teachers,
Round Table Cuapters, etc. Or you can, upon
meeting a 1'riend, ask him or her for names of rela-
tives who might like to correspond, trade speci-
mens; etc.
Use your ingenuity to find persons with the
same hobby as your own. When you find them,
write them a really good letter ; that is, treat them
well, not ill. Do not ask any one to excu--^ blots
in letters. Busy business men even do not dv that.
They write the letter over again, and their time is
more valuable than yours. Never say, " That isn't
the best I could do, but it is good enough." Only
the best is good enough. Treat your correspond-
ents well, and you will derive much of both know-
ledge and pleasure from them.
A Fire by the Esquimaux Method.
I read about the Esquimaux method of lighting
fires iu Snow-shoes and Sleclffes. I had read about
the method before, but had always been somewhat
sceptical on the subject. But as the directions
were plainer than any I had previously seen, I
thought I would try it myself. I procured a piece
of soft pine and worked a hole in it with my knife.
The pencil I made of oak, and the piece that went
on top of the pencil I made of whitewood.
I then took an old bow, and taking the string off,
put on a larger one about an eighth of an inch in
diameter. I took a turn of this around the oak
pencil, and drew the bow back and forth. At first
I could perceive no fire, but before long, to my sur-
prise, the wood began to smoke, and when I took
the pencil out I found it was somewhat charred.
I have tried it several times since with more or
less success. I would like to know whether any
one else has tried this experiment, and how they
have succeeded.
I would like some correspondents.
BANPIBLD, MICH. CiSSIUS MORFORD.
878
Questions anJ) answers.
Avis K. Smith, Box 84. San Luis Obispo, Cal.,
wants to hear from a Chapter that admits corre-
sponding members. GSrasime Duhois, 21 Chaussie
du Vouldy, Troyes, Champagne, France, is a French
Knight of the Order, and wants to correspond in
French, German, or English, to improve his own
and his correspondents' language construction. He
will write in any or all of the languages. O. Prus-
sack, R. T. K., 84 Norfolk Street, New York, wants
to join a literary Chapter.
Elizabeth A. Hyde, 1458 Euclid Place, N. W., Wash-
ington, D. C., wants to hear from other Washing-
ton members willing to help her get up au enter-
tainment in that city iu aid of the School Fund.
S. L Barksdale, a Mississippi Knight, says he has a
good many correspondents. It is their custom, be-
sides describing places each may have visit ed.to
propound questions. They differ about answers
sometimes, and so they send us five questions,
agreeing to abide by our decisions. What is the
Flower City and what the Flour City? Springfield,
111. and Rochester, N. Y. respectively. How does a
spider get his web from one tree to another? How
does he spin a round web 5 How does he keep
lines the same distance apart? And what keeps
him from falling?
The spider possesses no special ability to get
from one tree to another. He depends upon the
wind generally. He spins a single thread long
enough to reach across and then trusts to the
wind. If the end attaches itself at what he deems
the wrong place, he goes over it where it is, or
around by way of the ground and adjusts it. He
makes the web regular, both in size and distances
apart, because he possesses mathematical and me-
chanical instinct, just as does the bee, only in less
degree. He keeps from falling by clinging to his
web. He possesses no peculiar power in this re-
spect over other insects. We cannot express an
opinion whether a certain firm is reliable or not.
The price of Abbott's Life of Najmleon is $5 iu
cloth.
The rules of knucks up, with marbles, vary great-
ly. Here is one way to play it t Dig three holes in
the ground three inches in diameter and four feet
or more apart. The first player starting at the
first hole tries to get his marble into the second
hole. I The succeeds he takes a span with his hand
and proceeds to the third ; if he fails, the next play-
er follows. Should he manage to get into the hole,
he plays again, ami can either try for the third hole
or try to knock his opponent further away from
the hole. He also has the privilege of a span. If
he should hit his opponent's marble, the hit counts
another hole for him, but he must put his marble
into the hole he was playing for before he can shoot
at his opponent's marble. There is a point to be
gaiued in carrying your opponent's marble from
hole to hole. You can finish the game in this
way.
The players continue iu this way until one or the
other has gone up and down three times. The
player who has lost the game places his clinched
fist on one side of any of the holes, with his marble
iu front of his fist. The winner gets on the oppo-
site side. He then takes aim, closes his eyes, and
shoots. He does this three times, his eyes closed,
and every time he misses, or hits his opponent's
marble, he has to put his knuckles up on his side of
the hole while the loser shoots at them. These are
called the "blind" shots. Then lie shoots three
times at the loser's knuckles with his eyes open.
These shots he very seldom misses. It is best not
to have too many players, because there is likely
to be confusion in the marbles and the holes. You
can also play partners in the same way.
The largest city in the United States is New York,
and its population, recently enumerated, is only a
little below 2,000,000. The following States fought
for the Southern cause of 1861. passing secession
ordinances on dates in the order named : South
Carolina, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia,
Louisiana. Texas, Virginia, Arkansas, North Caro-
lina, and Tennessee. The States of Missouri, Ken-
tucky. Maryland, and Delaware refused to secede,
lint passed ordinances declaring themselves to be
neutral.
HAEPEE'S Eor.ND TABLE
A VILLAGE OF CHESS-
PLAYERS.
WE learn from a foreign jonrnnl that
the village of Stroebeck is known
throughout the whole of Germany as the
"chess -play ing village." For centuries
every native of that village, from the pros-
perous freeholder down to the poor shep-
herd, has been an enthusiastic and a more
or less efficient chess-player.
From time immemorial the knowledge
and love of the game have been handed down
from one generation to a-uother, and parents
a,r6 still in the habit of teaching it to their
children as soon almost as they are able to
walk. It is one of the regular subjects
taught at the. village school.
Once a year, at Easter, the children's
knowledge of the game is tested by a kind
of examination conducted by an examining
committee of peasants, of which the clergy-
man is the president and the school-master
the vice-president. Forty -eight of the
scholars are selected by lot, and matched
against each other by a similar method.
The twenty-four winners in the series of
single combats then enter upon a second
struggle among themselves, and the remain-
ing twelve on the third. The six winners
in the threefold contest are declared the
champion players of the school. They each
receive a prize, consisting of a chess-hoard
and chessmen, ami are escorted home by
their parents and friends after the manner
of the Olympian victors among the ancient
Greeks. Afterwards a feast is given in their
honor to which all the friends and relations
are invited.
MARSHMALLOW PASTE AND
CANDIES.
DISSOLVE five ounces of l>est white
gum-arabic iu twenty table-spoonfuls
of water, and strain it. Put, it with a
pound of powdered sugar into a. basin, and
place tins basin iu another containing water.
A farina or double boiler is especially good
to use for this cookiug. Stir constantly till
the mass is very stiff and very w.hite. Di-
vide the paste while still hot into parts,
flavoring' one with vanilla, another with
rose ami a frw drops of pink coloring mat-
ter, and another with orange-flower water,
if strong and fresh. Then pour the paste
into tin dishes dusted with corn-starch.
When cool divide into squares -with a sliaip
kuifu, using it with a quick stroke. A va-
riety of candy can be made with this paste
by (lipping the squares when perfectly cold
iii fondant. The fondant should be melted
in small quantities, and each portion difl'er-
rntiv colored and flavored. From marsh-
mallow paste is made another attractive
candy, called Neapolitan nougat. Make the
marshmallow paste as before, but when
i thick and white add the well-beaten white
lot' an em;. When well blended remove the
jniass from tin: fire, flavor with vanilla, and
•idd a pound of blanched, chopped almonds,
and an onncr of pistache nuts, also blanched
and chopped. When well mixed press into
,i box, and when cold cut into bars and wrap
( earh bar in douMe \va\i-d paper. A- tins
landj will not keep long put it into an air-
isrht box.
IVORY 5 GAP
PURE
Elisabeth R. Scovil in her book, " The Care of Children," recom-
mends the use of Ivory Soap for bathing infants, and says: " There is
rfo particular virtue in Castile Soap, which has long been consecrated
to this purpose."
THE PROCTER & GAMBLE Co.. CIN'TI.
EARN A TRICYCLE!
We wish to introduce our
Teas, Spices, and IJuking
Powder. Sell so Ibs. and
nd
Chain; 50 \\>s. fora Gold
Watch and Chain;751bs.
for it Bicycle ; 10 Ibs.
for :i Beautiful i.nid
Ring. Express prepaid
If cash is sent for goods.
Write for catalog and
order sheet.
w. G. BAKER,
SPRINGFIELD, MASS.
H
ARPER'S CATALOGU
thoroughly revi-^ecl, cla^itir ',
indexed, will be sent by mail
address on receipt of ten cents.
E
WOMJEK CABINET FREE. Mitting Link
Puxtle, Devil'i Bottle, Pocket C»ro*r», Utti I
Wir.- I'm, • i '
Until, T"< i • t'.-r w,lh imBii-r.j-«
• oMOOOBargiliurorlOc r.TirostK*.
IN'iERSOLLi «KO.,G5 Cortlan.lt Str- I .\. V.
BY KIRK MUNROE
Snow=Shoes and Sledges.
A Sequel to "The Fur-Seal's Tooth." Illustrated. Post 8vo,
Cloth, Ornamental. (Nearly Ready.)
Mr. Munroe long ago established himself as one of our ablest juvenile writ-
ers, and this latest work from his pen is perhaps the best that he has published.
The story continues the adventures of two boys — Phil Ryder, a New-Kn^lander,
and Serge Belcofsky, an Alaskan — from St. Michaels, in the northern part of
Alaska, through a aooo-mile trip with dog-sleds and snow-shoes up the Yukon
River and across the mountains to Sitka.
The Fur=Seal's Tooth.
A Story of Alaskan Adventure. Illustrated. Post Svo, Cloth,
Ornamental, $i 25.
A fresh and well-told narrative. . . . One \\mild not willingly lose a page
of this charming story. — Philadelphia LcJ^ir.
PREVIOUS y GLUMES BY MR. M UN ROE:
Raftmates. — Canoemates. — Campmates.— Dorymates. IVst Svo. Cloth.
Ornamental, Si 2^ each. The Four Volumes in a Box. Su oo.
Wakulla.— Flamingo Feather.— Derrick Sterling.— Chrystal, Jack &
Co., and Delta Bixby. Illustrated. Square idmo, Cloi!
mental. Si oo each.
HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York
879
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Ml'XVILLK IB AN INGKN1OU8 LAD. WlTH HIS OLD HOBBY-HORSE AND SOME PARTS OF AN OLD
UIOYOI.E UE I1A6 A 6TEKD TUAT GOMES MEABF.ll A KKAL ANIMAL THAN ANYTHING YET 8KEN.
STOEIES BY GRANDMA.
REMARKABLE HARVEST OF WILD ANIMALS.
" /"I RANDMA," said Ralph, " what did Uncle James go
\JT to Borneo for?"
" Well, I declare," answered Grandma ; " who ever said
that anybody ever went anywhere?"
" You did, Grandma, you know you did ; you're trying
now to get out of telling me a story."
" But telling you what he went to Borneo for isn't astory."
"No; but it's a good start for one," insisted Ralph.
"Well, then, he went there for his health, I believe,"
answered Grandma.
" What was the trouble with his health ?"
"The doctor said he had indigestion."
" So he went to Borneo, did he ?"
" Yes."
"But you are no tantalizing, Grandma. Why is Borneo
good for indigestion ?"
"Well, the doctor advised him to exercise by riding
horseback. He told yonr uncle that the shaking up which
it would give him would be good for him. But he didn't
like to ride, so he went to Borneo instead."
"Well, I don't understand it at all," and Ralph drew a
long breath and looked deeply perplexed.
" Why, yon see the earthquakes there come so often that
they keep a person bouncing up and down just as if he
were riding horseback all the time — so yonr uncle said.
He would often tell, too, of what a good place it was to
sleep, because there are three or four earthquakes every
night which toss yon up and turn you over and save you
the trouble."
"I don't hardly flunk I'd like it," said Ralph.
"Perhaps not," returned Grandma. "It makes some
-people nervous. He said himself that it was the most
fidgety and excitable island that he was ever on. It would
be a good place to play jackstones — don't you think so? —
the earthquake would toss 'em for you, and all you'd have
to do would be to hold out your hand and look on."
Ralph smiled a little, then he said," JVbir tell me the story
about Uncle James and Borneo."
"Oh, dear; I thought perhaps you'd forgotten that.
Well, you know Borneo is full of wild animals — lions and
tigers and leopards and hyenas and jackals and ant-eaters
and chimpanzees and —
"What are jimpausies?"
asked Ralph.
" Chimpanzees are a big
kind of monkey — you've seen
pictures of them. Your un-
cle James noticed that dur-
ing every earthquake the ani-
mals were shaken all over
the country. They would go
rattling and rolling around
on the ground everywhere,
like pop -corn in a popper.
He looked at the wikl-animal-
inarket reports in the news-
papers and saw that they
brought good prices to sell to
circuses and park museums,
so he made up his mind to
catch a few ship-loads and
send them back to this coun-
try.
"The first thing he did was
to hire a hundred Chinamen.
He set them at work digging
a big hole in the ground. He
made it two hundred feet
long, a hundred feet wide,
and twenty - five feet deep;
and when it was all done he
went home to his bamboo
house and waited for a big
earthquake. In a day or two
one came. It shook the ani-
mals out of the woods till the ground was all covered
with them, rolling about everywhere. There was every
kind of animal, from wild dogs and porcupines to elephants
and hippopotami. They soon began to roll into the hole,
and as the earthquake kept on it gradually tilled up.
Pretty soon it was full, and ferocious and bloodthirsty
beasts were boiling up out of it just like foam out of a
glass of soda-water — so I remember your uncle said. Then
just as the earthquake stopped he went out with the
Chinamen and put a big net over the hole, and staked it
down all around; and there he had a hundred thousand
bushels of fresh wild animals.
" As soon as he could, your uncle began to take out the
animals and load them into freight cars to ship to the
coast. He didn't get them out any too soon, either, be-
cause the earthquake had rattled all of the little ones to
the bottom and the big ones to the top, aud the little fel-
lows were pretty nearly smothered. One chimpanzee was
so cross over being squeezed that he hit an orang-outang
on the nose, and if the men hadn't separated them there
would have been a serious fight. There were a few natives
mixed with the animals, so your uncle said; but he sorted
them out very carefully, because he didn't want the folks
he sold them to to say that he was trying to adulterate
his animals with natives."
"That's a very •intfrcHtiiif/ story," said Ralph, "but it
seems to me that it is a pretty hard story to believe."
" It seems that way to me, too," replied Grandma. " But
I suppose that is because we never travelled in distant
lauds. Perhaps when you grow up you can go to Borneo
aud see if you can find the hole in which your uncle caught
the animals." H. C.
AT a recent School Board examination in India, where
the task was an essay to be written ou boys, the following
was handed in by a girl of twelve years:
"The boy is not an animal, yet they can be heard to a
considerable distance. When a boy hollers he opens his
big mouth like frogs ; but girls hold their tongue till they
are spoke too, aud theu they answer respectable and tell
just how it was. A boy thinks himself clever because he
cau wade where it is deep ; but God made the dry land for
every living thing, and rested on the seventh day. When
the boy grows up he is called a husband, and then he stops
wading, but the grew-np girl is a widow aud keeps house."
880
HARPE
psgspisisi?
-di^lVv — -
ROUND TABLE
•-i>iu
, 1895, by H.HPUH A BBOTHSHB. A!] RIBl,t, Re,erv,
VOL. XVI.— NO. 827.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY. SEPTEMBER 3, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOI.LA KS A ', KAIt
A FIGHT IN THE FOG.
BY YATES STIIiLING, JUN., ENSIGN U.S.N.
" A LL liniuls to muster!" rang out from the harsh throats
-£\- of the boatswain's mates of the U.S.S. Keurmiriji',
and the iTe\v came tumbling aft tn the quarter- deck.
Tliey were as tine-looking a set of bluejackets as one
would care to see, the cream of the navy and the uaval
reserve.
The new /ii-ui-min/i' was cruising off the coast of (ireat
Britain for the purpose of intercepting one of the enemy's
finest cruisers, which was known to have recently left Eng-
land, and was on the way to join her sister ships in her
•own country.
Every one aboard the American ship was wild to meet
the enemy, and the Kearsargefs crew had not a fear that
the fight would result differently from the one fought by
•her namesake forty-live years before.
The lookout had .just reported smoke to ihe eastward,
from which direction the enemy was expected. When all
hands weie "up and aft." the Captain addressed his men
aipon the impending conflict.
"Men," he said. " we are here to fight the must formida-
ble of our enemy's cruisers. She is equal in every iv-pect
to the mighty ship upon which we stand. There are no
chances in our favor. The battle will depend upon your
coolness and courage.
"Men of the main battery, upon you depends the result
of the action. Your target is t lie at red .sides and turrets.
"Men of the secondary batter\. \oiir nei \ e and endur-
ance are to be, put to the crucial test. Your guns inii-i In-
directed at the unar red gun parts and torpedo tubes.
"Remember, all of you, a lucky shot may turn the tide
of battle.
"Officers and men, upon you depends whether the new
l\inr»nr</>' shall win a name as lasting and illustrious a-,
did the noble ship IV which that na was inherited.
"The eyes of the world are upon you."
A few minutes later the Captain and the cxeenti\e
cers are upon the forward bridge. di-en--iii'.; the miie
tails of the plan of action, and casting apprehensi'
at the low line ..I" 1,1 ark .-moke on t he eastern i •
The former i- a line-looking \ g "Mi i-r, who ha-
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
rapidly advanced to commanding rank through Ins zeal
and untiring labors to perfect the navy of his country.
Many an article from his pen on how a ship should lie
fought has been published in the scientific papers of Amer-
ica : but uo\v he must put his theories to the test — to learn
by experience, bitter or sweet, whether he merited the com-
mendation which his numerous articles on naval science
have won for him.
The Eeanarge, which was launched in 1900, is an armored
cruiser of 9000 tons displacement, 4^0 feet in length, and
64 feet in breadth. The main battery consists of four 10-
inch breech-loading lilies, tiring projectiles weighing 500
pounds; two mounted in a Ill-inch armored turret forward
on midship line, and two in a similarly placed turret aft,
and four sMiich breech - loading rifles, firing projectiles
weighing y.">0 pounds, mounted two each in a 6-inch ar-
mored turret on either beam.
The secondary battery consists of twelve 5-inch rapid-
fire gnus and eight 6-ponnder.s mounted in armored spon-
sous on a covered gnu-deck. On her superstructure rail,
about l."i feel aho\r the spar-deck, she carries twelve :»7-
millimeter revolver cannon and four long 1-ponnders.
With this tremendous battery she can hurl two tons of
steel from one broadside of her main battery every minute,
and 362 pounds of steel from her secondary broadside every
li \ e seconds. The velocity of this metal on striking within
battle-range would be about twenty-five miles a. minute.
The heavy shells, if striking within the biting angle, can
penetrate the armor of any war-vessel afloat.
On her berth-deck she carries five torpedo-tubes with
two automobile Wliiteliead torpedoes for each tube. The
charge used is sufficient to sink any cruiser afloat if ex-
ploded within ten yards of her bottom plating. The armor
on her sides is 5 indies of steel, and her protective-deck is
3 inches in thickness.
Among the inventions which her Captain has given to
his navy is a sound-detector, by means of which a sound
can be magnified to a very great degree, and its direction
accurately ascertained.
The AYdr.Miri/r had been fitted with one of these detectors
before leaving the United States, for the Captain knew that
many dense fogs would be met with oft' the English coast.
She has been cruising abont in wait for her prey for over
a week. The crew have been given incessant drill and
sub-calibre target practice. The plan of attack has been
discussed so often that it is known by all the officers.
The ship is "cleared for action." Every stanchion and
boat-davit has been lashed to the1 deck. Every movable
object on the deck below has been sent to the protective-
deck to avoid, as far as possible, the danger from flying
splinters.
The smoke on the horizon has approached, until now it
is seen from the top to come from two smoke-pipes framed
l>\ something that looks suspiciously like two military
fighting-masts.
The crew are gathered on the forecastle. The enemy is
now in sight, and the Captain's glass is upon her. A care-
ful scrutiny shows her to be a war-vessel similar 'in ap-
pearance to his own. At a sign from him the drummer
beats to " quarters." This sound calls every man to some
station. The Captain goes to the running-tower, a small
hea\ ily armored turret beneath the bridge. An aid enters
with him to steer the ship by his direction from the wheel
within. A small opening near the top gives the occupants
a view around the horizon, and numerous speaking-tubes
and telephones put them in communication with all the
vital parts of the ship. Crews of twelve men each enter
the turrets in charge of an officer. Steam is turned on the
turret-engines. The gnus ou the deck below are divided
between two divisions of men. each division in charge of a
lieutenant, who has an ensign and midshipman as assist-
ants.
The men are stripped to the waist, and their gnus are
ready for battle; division tubs are filled with water, and
the decks are covered with sand. On the berth - deck
hatches and scuttles are opened, tackles are hooked, and
the cooks are Hoisting powder and shell for the battery.
The torpedo crews are charging their deadly weapons
with compressed air. Below the protective-deck are half-
nakeil men in the magazines and shell rooms, handling the
missiles that are soon to speed towards the approaching
enemy.
Down in the depths of the steel hull the firemen feed the
mighty furnaces to a white heat. It is all the same to
them now as when the monsters are engaged in a death-
struggle. The sounds of the discharges, of the explosion
of shells, and the cries of the wounded will be too distant
and miimVd to give them an idea of what is going on in the
world above them. The first news will come when the
terrible torpedo explodes against their ship's side, doom-
ing them to a watery grave, or the merciless ram sinks into
its very bowels, or when a heavy shell penetrates one of
the huge boilers, dooming all hands in the terrific explo-
sion that will follow.
The stranger has altered her course and is steaming in
the direction of the Kenrsarije. There are her two military
masts, but no flag as yet to show her nationality. Sud-
denly something flutters from her mast-head. It is the
flag of England! There is no time now to consider what
must be done. The ships are but five miles apart, steam-
ing for each other at twenty -knots speed. One minute
more and the cruisers will be within battle-range.
The Captain is a man of quick judgment, and his mind is
made up in an instant.
From his point of vantage on the bridge he takes a care-
ful look at the stranger and then at the drawing he has of
her, furnished by the Navy Department. It is the same
vessel ; yet why would she be cleared for action if a Brit-
ish crui-i i '
Starboard !
The mighty ship swings around in answer to her helm,
and is heading perpendicularly to the course of the stran-
ger.
Two midshipmen stationed at the range-finders iu the
tops are pointing the delicate instruments towards the ap-
proaching ship. Dials at each gun automatically show
that the distance is rapidly diminishing. The marines
have taken their rifles to the superstructure-deck, and are
crouching behind a breastwork constructed of closely lash-
ed hammocks. The doctors have removed their medicines
and instruments to the ward-room, and the long mess-tables
are in readiness to receive the dead and wounded. The
chief quartermaster stands ready aft with a spare ensign to
hoist over the ship should his country's flag be shot away.
When the range-finder registers three and a half miles
the Captain orders the forward turret to fire at the stranger.
The air is rent immediately by the blast of the discharge.
The crew wait breathlessly while the shells reach the
height of their trajectories. One strikes the sea short,
while the other strikes the stranger and explodes.
The irrevocable step is taken. England's flag has been
fired upon.
All hands wait to see what the stranger will do. Three
miles told the range-finder.
A brown mist shoots from the stranger's forward turret ;
at the same time the British flag is hauled down, and the
flag of the enemy floats defiance iu its stead. Two 10-
inch shells fall but a few yards short of the Kearsarye. and
a moment later the sound of the discharge reaches the ears
of her crew.
Two miles and a half registers the range-finder, and all
the officers are directed to open fire. Shot after shot
belches forth from the Krttrxitr<i<'>i broadside and speeds
towards the enemy, exploding against her armor and top-
sides.
As yet the Kmrxnrye has not been hit, but now the va-
por from the enemy's smokeless powder shoots from the
muzzles of a score of guns not two thousand yards away.
and two tons of steel are launched on their deadly flight.
The havoc aboard the Ecurxnryr will never be forgotten.
The armor is pierced, the topsides are riddled. The carnage
among the unprotected men on the gun-deck and super-
structure is awful. But worst of all, many men not wound-
ed by shot and shell are laid insensible by some unseen
power.
Sknlonite is the word that passes from lip to lip. The
882
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
poisonous gas is the aftermath of the explosion of shells
loaded w,th this deadly compound
Tl ''" ar? ™™ed *''•""> the compartments filled with
the vapor and the air-nght doors are closed to prevent
the spreading of the noxious fumes to tie
engine-rooms.
li" magazines and
Ihe cruisers are now but fifteen hundred vards apart
steaming in opposite directions. As they circle abont one
another l,ke m.ghty birds of prey they are fast approach!
ing within range at winch a new weapon will I,,, launched
against the other's steel hull, the silent but relentless tor-
Ihen the ram will soon crash through one of the
crmsers. Which will it be?
Tin- AV«rw ,•,/,.'» fire is becoming more desultory as the
crew of one guu after another succumbs to the 'terrible
influence of the skulonite.
Suddenly a steel tishlike weapon is seen shootiuo- from
the enemy's side. The Captain of the Eearsarqc watches
wtth breathless anxiety the line of bubbles on the water's
surface, as the torpedo approaches his ship at a terrific
speed. It suddenly swerves, and goes but a few yards
clear of her stern.
The Kearsarge's breast torpedo is launched at the enemy
'ttith a splash it leaps from her side and speeds on its
errand ,,t destrucl The bubbles in its wake show the
aim is good. It must strike. But no, it has gone under
the enemy's ram.
What is that hazy line to windward, but half a mile dis-
tant ? It is a most welcome sight to the brave man in the
conning-tower, and he heads his crippled ship for the on-
coming mist. Soon she is swallowed up in the dense fog-
bank, and shut out from her euemy's view.
The enemy gives chase, as the American commander had
expected. He turns the trumpet of his sound-detector in
the direction of the pursuing vessel, and from its dial ascer-
tains her course.
The enemy is still tiring, but the guns of the _AY<i/-.wn/r
have ceased to roar, and " silence fore and aft "is com-
manded of the crew. The fleeing ship goes on until her
Captain is sine that his foe has entered the fog, then the
helm is [int hard over, and the ship swings around until
the instrument indicates that the other is dead ahead.
Again the Captain is hopeful of success, as he realizes
that the enshrouding mist and the instrument before him
place rhe advantage in his favor. His eye is fixed on the
pointer of the dial, ever responsive to the electric current
set up by the sound waves beating upon the sensitive
diaphragm in the trumpet. The ship leaps forward until
he hears through the ear-piece the throb of the euemy's
engines. His heart beats fast, but he knows that he must
be self-controlled.
The ships are coming together bows on. The American
commander causes his ship to swing to starboard a little
so as to point her bow away from the approaching enemy.
The instant for action has come. He starboards his
helm in order to lay his ship across the course of the enemy.
"Prepare to ram" is telephoned by the aid at his side.
The ship swings around. The pointer swerves from the
direction of her starboard bow to dead ahead. Has he
been too late? Will he pass across her wake, or will he
cross her path in time to receive her ram prow in his owu
broadside f The needle points ahead when the huge side
of the enemy looms up through the fog.
In a moment, with a terrific shock, the ram bow of the
victorious AY«/'.wc</< enters the side of the enemy, cleaving
armor and deck-plating as though it were wood.
Slowly the victor backs off from her sinking enemy.
The rammed ship commences to deliver death-dealing
shots ; but she is fast sinking.
She can no longer elevate her gnus enough to strike the
Kearsarge. She has heeled too far. The firing ceases.
Al! the Kearsarge's boats that are not disabled are
manned and ready to render assistance to the vanquished.
Not a moment too soon. The ill-fated ship 1 Is to star-
board, her stern rising high in the air, her sere" s thrashing
the fog in their upward flight, the flag under which her
brave defenders had so well fought still waving at her
trucks, and slowly sinks beneath the waves, sending up
THE SAD STORY OP THE MOUSE.
BY KATHARINE PYLE.
ONE winter, when mamma was ill,
And scarce could move at all,
There used to come a little mouse
From out the l.edroom wall.
Mamma would scatter crumhs for it;
'Twas company, she said ;
She liked to see it run about
While she was there in bed.
And when mamma was well again,
The mouse would still come out,'
And nose around in search of food,
And scamper all about.
At last one day— oh dear! oh dear!
A naughty hoy was I;
I set a trap to catch that mouse ;
I'm sure I don't know why.
I'd hardly closed the cupboard door
Before, the thing went, Snap !
I was afraid to go and look
At what was in the trap.
At last I looked; the mouse was there!
I carried it away;
I never told a soul of it ;
I could not play all day.
And after that mamma would sav,
"Why, where's our little mouse?
It must have found some other place
I think, about the house."
But, oh, I'd give my bat and ball,
My kite and jackknife too,
To see that mouse run round again
The way it used to do.
SHOOTING THE CHUTE.
BY WALTER CLARK NICHOLS.
MORE swiftly than the lightest-feathered swallow wings
her llight southward in the fall, more rapidly than any
railroad train in tin- world .sweeps along its iron road, you
speed down a long slide at an angle of about tliirt\
degrees. Your heart leaps into your throat as the boat you
are in strikes the water and skims unevenly over the sur-
face of a small pond, and then your heart comes back to its
right plaee as you find you are unhurt. Then you give a
gasp of pleasure, and are ivady to try it all over again.
For you have "shot tlie chute."
"Shooting the chute" is tlie invention of that intrepid
swimmer and bold paddler Captain 1'aul Boy ton. Captain
Boyton, who is as brave as he is modest, is the man who
has paddled over twent \ ti\ e t IHUISJIH! miles on the princi-
pal rivers of the world in a peculiarly constructed rnlihcr
suit, over great falls, anil through dark canons, in Kiiiope,
Africa, and America; who lias I'onght sharks and seals, ami
has had all sorts of strange ad\ ciitmvs. The idea of the,
"chute" first came to him. he sa\s. while shooting down
the raging Tagns in Spain. In his hooK In sa\s:
"The thought struck me as I was going into some sub-
terranean passage, the ] perpendicular walls seem !•
in and swallow up the entire river. 1 was
the mighty current, and was bcginn: -ure that I
883
YOU SEE THE BOAT LEAP FORTY FEET AT A JUMP.
was being carried into some underground rapids, when I
was suddenly dumped into a deep pool, where the course
of the river was running smooth and placidly along."
The first chute in America was built in Chicago, and
opened for business on July 4, 1894. It is nothing more nor
less tli nn an inclined roadway of wood or iron, starting at
a height of from 60 to 75 feet, which, with a run of about
250 feet, descends to the surface of the water. On this
roadway there are tracks upon which boats, each holding
eight passengers, glide rapidly down. When the boat
strikes the water, the impetus acquired in the descent
causes it to "skim" over the water in a series of bounds,
like a stone thrown by a boy in "ducks and drakes," some
300 feet to a landing-stage, where the passengers are dis-
embarked.
But such a brief description doesn't even suggest the fun
and the excitement of" shooting the chute." It is a sport
where old and young can meet on common ground. In
fact one poet has recently told how
"Little Jimmy was a scholar,
And liis aptitude was such
That his parents and his teacher
Were afraid he'd know too much.
So his grandmamma said, 'Bless him,
I will take him into town,
And we'll go to Captain Boytou's,
Where they'll water-shoot us down.' "
Suppose you were to go down to the chute — for there
are four chutes in different parts of the country now. in
Chicago, Atlanta, Baltimore, and at Coney Island — you
would see something like this: There is a big enclosure,
with a high board fence around it, from which a huge in-
cline stretches up. It looks like a toboggan slide, only far
bigger than most. The man at the stile-gate says, " Tick-
ets, please." So you pay twenty cents for each ticket,
admitting you to the grounds and one ride each on the
chute. Just as you go in you hear a roaring, rattling
sound, and a boat comes rushing down the slide into the
lake in front of yon. You see the boat leap forty feet at a
jump over the surface of the water, like some ocean demon,
until it finally quiets down and allows itself to lie paddled
easily up to the bank. As the people in the boat are helped
out by several of the fifty attendants dressed in sailor suits,
you expect them to cry out some expression of disapproval,
for you certainly heard them shouting out in a frightened
manner as they rode down the chute. But no.
" Wasn't it perfectly splendid?" says one woman.
" It beats tobogganing !" exclaims another.
" Let's do it again !" says a small boy.
A little reassured, you move around with the crowd tow-
ards the entrance to the'slide, and, after giving your tick-
ets to the gateman, you all get into little cars — similar to
those in use at Niagara Falls running down to the whirl-
pool rapids — attached to endless chains, which drag you
up to the top of ttie chute as slowly as the boats in the
other part go rapidly. As yon get a little more than half-
way up, a boatload of people rattles by within ten feet of
you, and you wonder again whether you will have the
courage to make the first trial.
Once up, you follow the others around to the other side
of the chute, where boats are sent down every fifteen
seconds. You glance down the slide. It. looks very long,
and the water, which the steersman says is only three feet
deep, seems very far away and very deep. At last, with a
sudden gulp of courage, you jump in, holding tight to the
railings as the guard bids you. You see little, streams of
water bubbling up and trickling down every few inches or
so along the slide, and 'way below the big pool of water
looks yawuingly upward. The boat-despatcher has his
hand on the lever which holds the boat back. And now
that is turned.
884
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
" Hold fast, ladies and gentlemen. Hats under (lie seal !
Now, then, you're off!"
Quickly the boat rattles into the incline. A fraction of
a second, and you are rushing along so fast that you almost
scream. A second or two more, and yon are going at the rate
of seventy-four miles an hour. You have lost your breath,
but the fresh air that rushes into your lungs gives you a
delicious sensation. You feel as if you were flying through
the air.
Boom! Splash! The boat strikes the water, almost
jolting you off your seat, and whirling the spray high into
the air. The people on the banks of the little pond whiz
by, for the speed is still terrific, and the boat jumps for-
ward in crazy leaps. After two or three of these spas-
modic efforts the boat glides to the landing, thanks to the
assistance of the man in the stern. Your breath comes
back. Yon find yon weren't hurt a bit, or even wet. You
feel as if yon jumped from the top of the barn into the
lowest but softest hay-mow. You give an ecstatic gasp,
this time of extreme delight, and plead with papa or Uncle
Tom to "try it again."
Yon " try it again," and this time you are not. scared a
bit, just simply delighted. As you are being paddled over
to the shore after the last violent plunge of the ride, you
take a look at the boat, and notice that it is very strongly
built — of hickory and oak, the boatman says, and costing
over a hundred dollars. It has a long slope upward in the
prow, less sharp than a yacht's bow, and thus the danger
of getting wet is almost entirely done away with. Each
boat has four seats, seating eight people altogether, be-
sides the man who steers.
Perhaps yon go down the chute a few times more. If
you do, you will have acquired the " chute craze," and then
it is only a question of how much money you can have
spent for you. Abroad, several of the royal families ac-
(|uircd the "chute craze," and some of (hem have had
amusing times on it. When the. present Kmperor of Kus-
sia, then the Czarovitch, was visiting England in July,
1893, he, the Prince of Vales, and the King of Denmark,
went to Captain Boyl.on's water-show to " shoot t lie chute."
An eye-witness, who wrote about it to a Chicago paper,
said :
"They climbed to the top of the high incline', anil Hi •
Czarovitch, with a twinkle in his eye, invited the Kin;; "t
Denmark to take the front seat in the boat in which they
\\rii to make the swift descent. His Majesty took Hie
place, and his nephew quietly stepped in behind and put
his silk liat under the seat. The Indian guide pushed off,
and in a moment the boat was flying like mad down the
steep incline. The King, who thought the boat would
certainly plunge under the waters of the lake when it
struck, crouched down and held on like grim death. The
Czarovitch stood up and yelled with excited glee. The
llat-liottomed boat dashed into the water with a tremen-
dous splash, leaped four or live feet into the air, and a
drenching shower of spray covered his Majesty on the front
seat. As the boat approached the opposite shore the
Czarovitch turned to the Indian who was steering, grinned,
and put out his hand; the Indian grinned wickedly, and
something slipped into his fingers. There had been a
similar bit of pantomime before the boat started, and as
skilful guides can take their boats through the exciting
trips without wetting their passengers, it is supposed that
the young Czarovitch played a little joke on his royal
uncle. The Prince of Wales came down in another boat,
and they all liked it so much that they all went back and
tried it again."
So popular has the pastime been at the chute near New
York that over 30,000 persons have frequently " shot the
chute " in a day.
TI1E "CHUTE."
THE FIRST JUMP.
THE SECOND JUMP.
•TKYIXU IT AGAIN."
885
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
OAKLEIGH.*
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND.
C H A P T K K X I.
/""1HRISTMAS morning dawned cloudy and very cold, bnt
\J it bad stopped snowing, and after a while the sun
came out and turned the country into a radiant, dazzling
spectacle.
The Franklins were to have a party during the holidays,
and it had been planned for the following Tuesday — New-
Year's eve.
" If we had only arranged to have it earlier we might
have escaped that horrid Brouson," said Cynthia, regret-
fully, the day after Christmas. " Now, of course, he will
come with the Morgans, and, worse still, we shall have to
l>e polite to him in our own house."
" I should1 hope so," said Edi Hi. " You were rude enough
to him at the picnic, and I do think good manners are so
attractive. I am going to cultivate them as much as pos-
sible. No one will ever like you unless you are polite,
Cynthia."
"I seem to have plenty of friends.' ivtnrned her sister,
composedly, "aud I don't really can' to have Brouson like
mi.1. In fact, I would rather prefer that he shouldn't. I
wouldn't consider it much of a compliment to be liked by
a — a — creature like that!"
It would be impossible to convey an idea of the cou-
tempt in Cynthia's voice as she said this.
" And if you are going to have such lovely manners, I
should think it would lie just as well to begin at home,"
.she added.
" What do yon mean ?"
"Well, I don't suppose you will like it, but really, Edith,
sometimes it does seem as if you just tried to hurt mamma's
feelings. I know I ought not to say this, perhaps, for you
think I am only a younger sister, I suppose, and haven't
any right to lecture yon; but when I remember how nice
you really are, I can't bear to have you act so. If you
only would try to like her, instead of trying not to like
her! There, don't cry, dear; I didn't mean to hurt your
feelings."
Aud Cynthia threw her arms around her sister and
kissed ber.
"You have hurt them," said Edith, with a sob, "but I
deserve it. I don't know what has gotten into me since
the Gordons came. I can't like her being here. Oh, Cyn-
thia, you don't know how I fed sometimes! I wish I didn't
have such bad, wicked thoughts."
" Do you really try to get over it, Edith ?"
"No-o, not very hard," she faltered. " I can't forgive her
for coming and taking my place, aud — and — I don't want
to forgive her. There, I know you will think I am bad and
horrible and everything else, but I can't help it."
And, rising abruptly, she left the room.
"Poor old Edith !" sighed Cyuthia, compassionately.
"She will come round some time; she can't help it."
On New-Year's eve was to be the Franklins' party.
"Edith, we must have it very original aud unique, some-
thing quite different from anything we have ever had in
our lives," said Cynthia, a few days before.
" How can we ? There's nothing new."
"Yes, there is, right in my head. I have an idea."
"What in the world is it?"
" Well, I'll tell you," aud she proceeded to unfold it.
It proved to be a good one, and with Mrs. Franklin's help
it was carried into effect. The suggestion was to have a
" character" party, but to enact the parts without dressing
especially for them. A list was made of persons well known
in history or fiction, and from this list Mrs. Franklin chose
those she considered the best, and wrote against each name
i ii.i ni1 -"i i H • MJfi or boy in Brenton. This she did without
telling her daughters how she had apportioned the parts,
I hat they might be as ignorant as their guests about one
another's characters.
* Begun in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE No. 81T.
" It is a truly Bostonese party," said Mrs. Franklin, laugh-
ing, when they talked it over. "There is au intellectual
flavor to it that you wouldn't find far away from 'the
Hub,' but it is a capital idea, nevertheless, Cynthia."
When the list was duly made Mrs. Franklin drove about
Brenton to the various girls aud boys -who were expected,
aud invited them for Tuesday evening, explaining to them
at I he same time what they were to do.
It was an old-fashioned tea-party, and the guests began
to arrive at six o'clock. There were twenty in all. and they
came hurrying in out of the cold, aud up-stairs to remove
their heavy wraps, the girls tripping down again in their
dainty evening dresses, while the boys stood about the
doorways in rather an aimless fashion, wondering what
they were expected to do at such a very peculiar tea-party
as this seemed to he.
It added to the mystery that each was given a card with
bis or her name prettily printed upon it, and a little pen-
cil attached.
"I never heard of anything like it, don't you know,"
drawled Brousou. "I'll be hanged if I know what to talk
about."
After supper, which was very jolly and effectually broke
the ice, Mr. Franklin made a little speech.
"Yon are all supposed to be somebody, and no one but
my wife knows which is which," he said. ''The object is
for each one to guess as many characters as possible from
their conversation, and when you have made up your mind
who some one is, you will write the name on your card,
with the name of the person yon are guessing about.
When your card is tilled with twenty-four names, which
HUMUS that you have given a. guess about every one here,
you will hand it in. Then the prizes will be bestowed."
"Prizes!" was murmured by the girls; "how lovely!"
while the boys looked relieved as the matter became
clearer.
C\ uthia turned to her neighbor and began to talk.
"Good-evening!" she said ; "did you see anything of my
broom ? I forgot to bring it along. Dear me, there's a lot
to be done up there," gazing towards the ceiling; "why
didn't I bring it along .'"
The neighbor chanced to be Dennis Morgan.
"I haven't seen your broom," he replied, "but I'm going
to find out why you want it. The trouble is, I've come
too soon, I think, and I can't find my way; but I can't tell
you where I want to go, or you would guess me on the
spot."
"Ho!" laughed Cynthia; "I know where yon want to
go. I think you would like a glass of water, wouldn't you?
For I am sure you have burned your mouth," she added.
Then she wrote on her card : "Dennis Morgan — Man in
the Moon."
"Pshaw! How did you gness me so soon t Aud I haven't
the ghost of an idea who you are. Let me see, you want
your broom. I can't imagine why you need a broom."
"Cobwebs, cobwebs everywhere," murmured Cynthia,
as she turned away and listened to the conversation that
was being carried on between Neal and Gertrude Morgan.
"I'm a wonderful man," said Neal. "In fact I don't
know but what I'm about as great a person as yon ever
heard of. You can't mention my name without alluding
fo it."
" I don't believe you are, half as great as I am," retorted
Gertrude, "only I don't talk as much about it. Why, I
am a queen."
"And I am a king. What kind of a queen are you?"
"I rule over a very important kingdom, and not only
do I reign bnt I can cook, too. I am one of those very
convenient people to have about that can turn their hand
to almost anything, but I am chiefly celebrated for rny
cookery. I made something nice one hot summer day —
"TaUe care, Gertrude!" cried Cynthia; "I know you."
And she wrote on her card : " Gertrude Morgan — Queen
of Hearts."
"Oh, come, Cyuth, that's too bad!" exclaimed Neal. "I
can't guess her at all, but it's because I am so taken up
reading a wonderful book when I am very young, and
making colored candles, aud all that sort of thing."
886
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"I thought you said you were a king?" said Gertrude.
' bo I am ; a terribly good sort, too."
At last Gertrude guessed him, and wrote "Alfred the
Great" with his name on her card.
Neal, however, could not discover who she was, not be-
ing as well posted in "Mother Goose" as was Cynthia.
The one who was most mysterious was Edith. For a
long time no one could imagine who she was.
"I have had a great many adventures," she said, as
they gathered about her. "I have travelled to places that
the rest of you have never been to. I have played games
with a duchess, and I have taken care of a duchess's baby.
A great many of my friends talk poetry. I have long light
hair, and sometimes I'm tall and sometimes I'm short."
"Never short, Edith, I'm sure," said Neal. Everyone
laughed, for they teased Edith about, her stately height.
"I know you! I know yon!" c-ried Cynthia, dancing
with glee. " You told too much that time," and she has-
tily scribbled "Alice in Wonderland " on her card.
She herself, as the "Old woman who swept the cobwebs
from the sky," was easily guessed, much to her own cha-
grin.
At last each one had written twenty-four names on his
or her card, and they were given to Mrs. Franklin for in-
spection. Some funny mistakes were made, and as they
were read out they created much merriment.
Somebody thought Yankee Doodle must be Paul Re-
vere, because he had been spoken of as a rider; Julius
Cii'sar and Columbus were hopelessly mixed, both having
mentioned themselves as crossing the water, and it beiner
impossible, from the description given, to distinguish be-
tween the Rubicon and the Atlantic Ocean; the Lady of
the Lake and Pocahontas were confused, as they each
saved a life; and every one mistook the Old Woman that
lived in a Shoe for Puss in Boots, because of her persistent
talk about foot-wear.
Cynthia had made a greater number of correct guesses
than any one, but as she was one of the hostesses she
could not, of course, claim a prize, so it fell to Tony Bron-
son, who was next on the list. Cynthia turned away to
hide the grimace which she could not repress when the
dear little clock in a red-leather ease was given to him as
first prize.
Kitty Morgan, Gertrude's cousin, was awarded the
"booby" prize, for having made the poorest guesses — a
dainty little pin, which, she said, quite lepaid her for her
stupidity; while one of the Brenton girls, whose list was
next best to Bronson's, received a pretty silver- framed
calendar as " Consolation.''
It made a merry evening, and after the game was over
they danced and played other games until it was Him- to
go home. It waS eleven o'clock w lieu the last sleigh drove
away.
"Only an hour to midnight," said Cynthia; "can't we
sit up and see the old year out? Do, papa, let us! We
never have, and it must be such fun. We couldn't go to
sleep, anyhow, after such an exciting evening."
Mr. Franklin consented, and they sat about the fire dis-
cussing the success of the game and the girls and boys
who had been there, one or two of whom remained for
the night at Oakleigh.
Neal and Cynthia were alone for a few moments. They
had goue out into the hall to see the hour by the tall
clock, and they found the hands pointing to ten minutes
of twelve.
"Let us wait here for it to strike," said Cynthia, going
to the window.
The lamp had gone out in the hall, and it was but dimly
lighted from the room where the family vv e-re sit ling, (.hit-
side, the moon was .sinning on the white, fields and fruzen
river. The old year was el} ing in a flood of glory.
" I always feel BO full of good resolutions on New -Year's
F.ve-," saiel Cynthia, in alow voice; "I wish I could keep
them all."
•• s.i do I," returned Neal. " I am always turning over
a new leaf. I must have turned over three \ olumes of new-
leaves by this tune. But they don't amount In mu.-h."
"It is discouraging, isn't it? I have never said any-
thing about it, to any one before. It seems io me I am al-
ways breaking my g I resolutions."
" I don't see how. First of all, if. doesn't, seem as il • .mi
did anything that is wrong— a girl doesn't have mil. h
chance to."
"Oil yes, she does. You don't know. And I have- s.i
many faults. There are my bureau drawers I can'l ke-,-p
them neat, and my clothes would be all in tal ters if it were
not for Edith and mamma. And, worst of all, tin-re is my
tongue."
" Your tongue t"
" Yes. It is such fun to make fun of people and say
sharp things when I don't like them— the kind of tiling I
am always saying to that Bronson."
Xeal laughed, and then he sighed.
"You are putting me into a bad corner. If you think
your faults are so tremendnus. what must you think of
mine .' I'm a thief and a coward."
"Neal!"
" Yes, I am. I am a thief because I don't pay that
money. I had no business to borrow it in the first place.
and I could save it out of my allowance if I would lake
the trouble, but I am too lazy : and I am such a coward I
won't ask Bessie for it. because I am ashamed to have your
father know il. It's all a nasty business, anyway."
• He looked moodily out on the snow , drumming his lingers
on I lie window-pane.
"Neal," said Cynthia, softly touching his arm with her
hand as she spoke, "let's turn over one more new leaf. I
will look out for my tongue and my bureau drawers, and
you will tell mamma everything and start fivsh. Will v on,
Neal? Promise!''
Before he answered the clock began to strike.
"Happy 'New-Year! Happy New-Year!" was heard from
the parlor. "Neal and Cynthia, where are yon ? Come in
here, that we may all be together when the clock stops
striking."
So the old year died, and Neal had not given the required
promise."
One day, shortly before he returned to St. Asaph's, he said
to his sister,
"Hessie, if I had been of age I think 1 would have tried
to break the will of grandmother's."
"Oh, Neal dear, don't say that! What do you mean .'"
" Well, it isn't that, I mind your having the money; yon
have always been a brick about keeping me supplied : but
the trouble is,I need more than yon give me."
"Neal, I am afraid von are spending too much." .said
Mrs. Franklin, looking at him anxiously. •• Are yon in
debt again? You know I would love to give you all I
have, but your guardians and tin- trustees of t lie estate and
John all think that you have a very large' allowance for a
school-boy, and it would not be a good plan to let you have
any more."
"Bother them all!" exclaimed Neal. s.-i/ing the poke-l-
and giving the lire an angry thrust. A showe-r e.f sparks
tlew out, but he let one burn a heile in the rug withemt
noticing. "I'm tin-el of he-ing tieel to voni apron-siring.
I've a good mind to cut leiose alteige-ther."
"Don't say that I" e-rie-el Mrs. Franklin, in distress, going
te> him and putting her arm threuigh his. He was taller
than she, and she- had to look up at him.
"If it were only you.it would be elill'eie-nt," e-eintinin-el
her brother; "but vein se-e- .ve.n're- married ii"W, ami every-
thing is dimmed."
" But Jedin is t'eniel of vein. Xeal : 1 kneiw he is. But he
knows all about boys, and his advie-e- is gooel. Would —
vveinhl live dollars he-lp ve.n
"You're' a neeeid lltlle- send. Ilessic," saiel Xral. leieik ing
eleiwn at h.-r alicc ate-ly, his monie-nl ary ill-hn i pass-
ing. " anil I suppose' it is not \ emr fault if yon e-an't give
any me. re. No. lhank von: I ivon'l lake llie- fiver.
1 lein'l weirry al I me. lleic comes .laek m the- e-uile-r;
w .-'re geiing le. i he v il]a".e>." And in a menui-nl he w as oil.
The next day he' wi-ni back te> St. Asaph's.
The- winter passe-el quiekly al'ie-r Christmas had •
ami geine>. ami all had sctll.il ehiwn again tei the- ivgtilar
ioiiiiue of work. Mrs. Franklin could not he-lp lee-ling
f - r
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE GIRLS CAME TRIPPING DOWN IN THEIR DAINTY EVENING DRESSES.
anxious about Neal. She, confided her fears to her hus-
liand, but he made light of them.
"The boy only wanted more spending-inouey, Hester.
Ke is very extravagant, and you will be doing very wrong-
ly if you supply him with more money. His allowance is
too large, at any rate, for a boy of his age. Jack gets
along perfectly well with just one-fifth the amount."
" But Jack is different."
"Very different, and Neal ought to be different, too.
You paid his debts in the fall, which were enormous for a
school-boy, and then he was free to start afresh. You will
never cure him of extravagance if you keep him supplied
with a.ll the money he wants.''
Mrs. Franklin was forced to acknowledge the truth of
her husband's remarks. She said no more, though she was
none the less worried.
C.Mithia noticed that her step-mother was nut as light-
hearted as formerly. They were going in to Boston one
Saturday morning to do some shopping together. Cynthia
had decided to buy a watch with Aunt Betsey's money,
and she had brought the gold pieces with her.
"I am so afraid of losing
them I don't know what to
do," she said. "Fifty dollars
is so enormous, isn't it ? Please
take it in your bag, mamma; I
know I shall lose it."
Mrs. Franklin smiled absent-
ly, and when she had put away
the money she looked out of the
window again.
" Mamma," said Cynthia, lean-
ing towards her, "you are wor-
ried about something, aren't
you? Tell me, is it Neal?"
Mrs. Franklin looked startled.
" I did not know I had such
a tell-tale face," she said. " Yes,
yon have guessed it, Cynthia. I
cannot help feeling worried
about him. I have* not heard
from him for some time, and
that makes me uneasy. But it
is just fancy, and will pass off.
Probably there will be a letter
from him to-night."
Cynthia also had remarked
on Neal's silence, and this con-
tinued her fears. She did not
say anything more to Mrs. Frank-
lin, however, for Neal had again
made her promise to repeat no-
thing he had told her.
" I'll never confide in yon
again if you tell," he had said ;
so, of course, Cynthia had prom-
ised.
Her mind was busy during-
the remainder of the trip to
Boston, and when the train glid-
ed into the station she had de-
termined to put her thoughts
into action.
"We will go to Shreve's and
then to Bigelow's to look at
watches," said Mrs. Franklin, as
they walked across the Com-
mon. " We had better look at
both places before you decide."
"I have changed my mind,
mamma. I don't think I will
buy a watch."
"Why, Cynthia!" exclaimed
Mrs. Franklin, almost stopping
short in her surprise; "you
want one so much !"
"No, I don't think I do — at
least not just now. Let us
just go buy the clothes, and I'll keep Aunt Betsey's money
a little longer."
She would give no further explanation, and her mother
could not induce her even to glance at the watches in
Shreve's window. No; she had decided that she did not
need one.
When they reached home she took the money and went
to her own room. She was standing by the window, care-
fully packing the coins in a little box with cotton, and
about to do it up for the mail — for she knew no better
way of sending the money — when she heard the sound of
\\ heels on the drive.
Looking out, she saw one of the depot carriages ap-
proaching, and in the vehicle was Neal himself.
Full of apprehension, dreading she knew not what,
Cynthia dropped the box of money and flew down
stairs.
It was not vacation, it was the middle of the school-
term.
Why had Neal come home ?
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
888
CORPORAL FRED,
A Story of the Riots.
BY CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U.S.A.
CHAPTER VII.
EVEN that drive of a dozen Mocks was full of excite-
ment. As the bnggy whirled away from the post of
the outermost sentry, after a brief impatient interview,
the sergeant of the guard sang out to the only occupant
whom he knew or in whom he felt personal interest, "Look
out for 'toughs' down the street, Fred. A gang of 'em's
just been scattered over at the Amity Works."
'•That's where we're hound," was the answer shouted
back over the lowered buggy top, and then our corporal
tinned to his whilom " boss," but now silent and embar-
rassed convoy. "Now, Mr. Manners, whether they recog-
nize you or not they'll see my uniform, and while they're
meek enough in front of a company, they're bold as a lion
against a single militiaman. Hoist the buggy top. That'll
fend off rocks from the back and sides, anyhow, and if any-
body tries to stop us before we get to the works, whip up
and drive for all you're worth."
It was good counsel. Turning out of the avenue with
its electric lamps, the buggy was spinning through a dimly
lighted, unpaved cross street. Knots of people were still
hovering about the corners — even women and children.
Loud, harsh voices were wrangling in a saloon, but for
three or four blocks northward the buggy whirled unmo-
lested, theu ahead could be seen groups of uncouth-looking
men arguing under the lamp-posts or skulking about the
street corners, and presently, as Manner's swil'i roadster
came springing up the st reel, ihe gas-light fell one instant
on the buttons and white chevrons of t lie corporal's blon>c.
A burst of yells and taunts was the result as they drove
h\ the first group. This drew the attention of the others,
and redoubled yells and a crash of stones followed from
the next, and presently the si reel ahead was alive with
straggling rioters running out to head off this lone vehicle,
freighted with they knew not what, but quickly divined I"
be of the hated "capitalistic class." Manners reached for
his whip and lashed his spirited mare over the haunches.
She seemed to leap into air, amazed and indignant, and
two rough fellows who sprang at her head were handed
aside as easily as an ironclad would burst through a shad
net. But up the street the crowd was thicker. Only live
blocks away now, around the second turn to the right,
were the Amity Works and Fred's comrades of Company
L, but between them lurked some hundreds of the foiled
and furious mob, balked in their scheme of wrecking and
burning the laden ears and the magnificently inflammable
plant of the wealthy corporation, and eager to revenge
themselves either on the owners or on those who had be-
come its guardians and protectors. Some one recognized
"STAND BACK!" HE SHOUTED, "OR I'LL FIRE!"
b89
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
ami shouted liis name. "Head 'em off!'' "Stop 'em!"
"Shout 'em!" "Kill the hlood\ hound-!" were the only
intelligible yells, and the gangs of "toughs" and tramps
along the street and among the lumber piles yelled mad
.'cho to ihe cry. Stones and other missiles came whirling
through the night, some striking the mare and redoubling
lier wild speed, some clattering upon the buggy top, some
few. better aimed, and from the front, whiz/ing into the
buggy itself. One of these stung Manners on the cheek,
just as Fred, bending low to dodge another, shouted to his
companion, "Turn her to the right — next street — it's our
only chance."
Not a seeoud too soon. Galloping now, the game little
mare was hard to guide, but Manners stood np and fairly
dragged her around the corner, the dust whirling in clouds
from the llashing wheels, the buggy nearly capsizing by
the sudden turn. Here they came face M fare anil easily
burst through a little knot of rioters running to join the,
crowd on the street they had just left, a yell of baffled
rage following them as they went dashing away up the
dim, dusty lane. ••Courage! Only three blocks more and
•we're safe," said Fred, as the manager, his grim mouth set,
gripped hard at the reins and strove to regain control.
But the mare was mad with fear and excitement now, and
at the very next cross street swerved to the left, the short-
est line to her stable. The buggy careened, whirled against
I he wooden curb, and in another instant, shooting its oc-
cupants across the sidewalk, went bounding and dashing
up the street, shedding spokes, tires, cushions, and springs
with every jump, and landing, a moment later, only a dan-
gling wreck at the heels of the reeking mare in the hands
of Company L, still ranked in front of the shops.
" It's Manners's buggy," cried Sercombe, " and he's spilled
out somewhere np the street. The mob have got him.
Save him if it's a possible thing."
So, too, said the Captain, and forty men of the ''Back-
woods Boys, "as L was facetiously termed by the city com-
panies, went doubling down the dusty street, peering eager-
ly ahead through the darkness.
Not a moment too soon, either. Stunned, bruised, and
blinded, Mr. Manners lay like a log upon the wooden walk ;
but Fred, light and athletic, had bounded to his feet, de-
spite the shock, and in an instant had picked up his ritlc
and run to the succour of his companion. With a yell of
triumph the nearest rioters came rushing down upon them
around the corner. Two blocks further away the gas-light
showed other parties of excited, wolflike men hastening in
pursuit. The nearest were some sixty yards away, but at
least a dozen of them, with exultant howls and renewed
cries' of " Kill 'em !" '• Slash 'em!'' " Lynch 'em !" bore clown
on the luckless manager and his sole defender. Instantly
Fred slipped one of the long copper cartridges in the breech
and slammed the block. "Stand back!" he shouted, "or
I'll tire!" Then as they still rushed on lie quickly raised
the long brown Springfield to his shoulder and sighted
square at the foremost man. ''Halt, or I'll drop you in
your tracks!" and the coward knew he meant it, and
crouched and dodged, Availing for others to reach him.
Then again, encouraged by the yells of those behind, on
they came, but slower, skulking close to the fence, bending
low, ducking and dancing to disconcert his aim. And then
the words of his Colonel at the armory came ringing in his
ears, " Not a shot, men — not a finger ou the trigger except
at the order fire!" — and there was none to order here. Yet
dauntless and determined there he stood, aud that one gal-
lant Yankee boy, in whose veins the fighting blood of the
Highland clans was boiling, in the simple service dress of
the National Guard, was just enough to hold ten city
"toughs" at bay one vital and all - important moment, for
when, re-enforced by the coming of their fellows from the
rear, I hey finally rushed ou to work their cowardly hate on
t he one prostrate man with his sole defender, they were met
face to face by the charge of Company L, and got the
hammering they so richly deserved.
And so morning dawned at last, on smoking yards, on
half-burned shops, ou slowly but surely moving mail and
passenger trains, on the glistening walls and windows of
the unharmed Auiity Works, all stoutly guarded by busi-
nesslike detachments of the city's crack regiment, and the
great mobs of the previous day and night were scattered
far anV! wide. All night police and patrol wagons had
been busily at work, and drunken or still riotous characti-i -
were being gathered in and trundled to the station-houses,
or pitched neck and crop into some freight-car temporarily
turned guard-house. The Steinmans. Fivnzels. and other
instigators had disappeared. Just as they had kept well
behind the fighting line when the struggle was hottest, so
now were they nowhere to be found when by their deluded
followers as well as by the police they most were wanted.
Stoltz, too, had been spirited away, aud was in hiding some-
where among the outlying wards, but with a crack in his
skull, said the doctor who gave first aid to Ihe wounded,
that would neutralize " the wheels in his head " for months
to come. This at least was comfort to many, and the Wal-
laces were in sore n 1 of comfort, for np to eight o'clock
on this second morning of the strike not one word had been
heard of the loved husband and father. At six the Colonel
himself had ridden over to the Amity Works with a little
escort, finding the neighborhood deserted, aud only a few
scowling, skulking rioters left. Taking Fred with him, he
had patrolled the streets, and then given his anxious guide
a chance to visit his home. "Stay as long as necessary,
corporal ; but — I've heard about last night, and shall want
\on later to-day after you've found your father."
But when and how were they to find father was the ques-
t ion. Jim, under the influence of opiates, still slept heavily.
The policemen told oft' to search came back crestfallen to
say they could hear nothing of the old man. No one had
seen him since he left the shops the previous day. Anx-
iety deepened with every minute, and at nine o'clock pool-
Mrs. Wallace had practically abandoned hope. "They've
murdered him," she sobbed; "I know they have. They
hated him for standing by his duty."
And even as she spoke there was a stir and excitement
on the' street without. " 1'olice patrol coming!" said some
one, ami come it did at rapid trot, but without clang of bell
or warning cry. It reined up abruptly in front of the little
cottage, and then there went up a shout of delight, and
Mrs. Wallace, rushing from the house, sobbing anew in re-
lief from dread and sorrow, seized and clasped her husband
in her arms as with calm dignity lie stepped from the wagon.
The police seemed desirous of creating a pleasant impres-
sion. They were assiduous in their care of Mr. Wallace.
They begged Mrs. Wallace lo understand that he had had
the best breakfast money could buy. There was evident
cause' of embarrassment and something to be explained and
extenuated, yet everybody crowded around Wallace, ami
nobody seemed to care to listen to them. They hung about
as though they wanted to shake hands with him, but the
old foreman only very formally touched his hat as he said
good-by.
"Where have I been? How did I escape?" ho finally
said in answer to appeals of friends and neighbors. "I'\e
been spending the night in jail — with other desperate char-
acters. I escaped by being arrested — in Jim's coat — as a
leader of the riot. Where's Jim ?"
This was actually the case. Too few in number to effect
anything in face of such a mob. some police officers, scout-
ing about their heels, had caught sudden sight of old
Wallace issuing with defiant air from the side door of the
threatened shops. These officers were new to that section
and had never seen him before', but his demeanor, his dress,
his badge all stamped him as a man prominent in the out-
break, and despite his protestations they bundled him with
a load of other prisoners into a patrol wagon, and sent him
to the main station two miles away,
ing could he secure recognition and
man was exceeding wroth, but his
"He'd have been killed," said she,
jailed."
But despite his indignation, old Wallace was on hand a
few hours later when a pleasing little ceremony was enacted
at the Amity Works. There the "backwoods boys" \\ere
drawn up in line to listen to some remarks of their Colonel.
A man of few words was that veteran when on duty, but
everybody seemed to know what was coming as he halted
Not until this morn-
a hearing. The old
wife \\ as thankful.
• if he hadn't been
890
HARPER'S ROUND TA1U.K
in front of them, ;incl Corporal Fred brought bis rifle- to the
tarry, stepped a tew paces forward, and stood there a little
white, a little tremulous with emotion.
"Men of Company L." the Colonel said. '• you've done
soldierly service — valuable- service, one and all, and sonic
day 1 hope you'll get the recognition you deserve; but
tin-re's one of your number who even inure than the resl
deserves a word. "Within twelve hours of the call I'm- duty
Corporal Fred Wallace has had the conspicuous honors of
being discharged from his clerkship for obeying the sum-
mons, being knocked senseless while doing it, being the
guide of his regiment into the thick of the riot, and filially
of saving tlie life, at the risk of his own, of the very man
who discharged him.
"It has been your province during the night to convert
some few lioters. but il has been his to convert what is
termed 'a soulless corporal ion,' and I know you'll all be
glad to hear him promoted sergeant on the spot. 80 much
for our side. Now we'll hear Mr. Manager Manners."
And amidst shouts of laughter and applause Mr. Man-
ners limped forward from a group of stockholders, while
tlie Colonel heartily shook his \ming guide by the hand.
And behind Manners there loomed up in the doorway of the
simps a goodly stack of luscious fruit and boxes of cigars,
and it was evident the company meant to royally enter-
tain its defenders.
And Mr. Manners was understood to express himself sub-
stantially as follows:
"Gentleman of Company L. If these, works had been
destroyed last night half a million dollars would have gone
up in smoke. We couldn't get insurance for more than
quarter of its "value. You saved it. Never until last
night did I know, or my associates, these- genl lemen, what
it meant to have a National Guard. We thought it was
the same thing as the militia we used to join and have fun
with forty years ago when we were young, and so had de-
termined to have no more of it in our business. We've
learned we didn't know the first tiling about it. We're
clean converted. We lind that young men nowadays are
doing better by themselves, their State, and their country
than we did. Now I've got a boy at home — a good boy, if
I do say it — who wanted to join you three mouths ago. and
I wouldn't let him, and I'm going home this day to beg his
pardon, as I beg yours, and tell him I'll be a proud father if
he can wear the uniform in the same company with you
and Wallaee and Sercombe. You've made Wallace a ser-
geant. Well, the Amity Works will stand by what they've
done, too. They discharged Mr. Wallace from what we'll
call a second-class clerkship yesterday afternoon, and they
now till the vacancy by the promotion thereto of his friend
Sei combe from the shops. They have established another
first-class clerkship, and to fill that original vacancy tliey
name Sergeant Fred Wallace, of Company L, and we'll
drink his health in the best and coolest lemonade to be had
in the whole State."
" Well." said old Wallace, as he sat later iu the day with
tin- mother's hand in his, "I didn't take much stock in that
soldier Inisine.-s either. But where would we all have been
this day but for Fred — Fred and his regiment !"
THE END.
HINTS ON A RACING CAT-BOAT AND ITS
CARE.
rillUC popular idea that a racing cat-boat is an expensive
-L luxury has doubtless arisen from the cost entailed upon
those who keep a racing boat, anil either cannot or will not
themselves attend to the labor connected with keeping such
a craft in the best of condition. Many boat-owners after
entering for a race put their boats in the hands of boat
builders to be gotten into condition so abundant around riv-
ers and bays where boat-racing is popular. To these men
are usually intrusted, besides getting the boai into condi-
tion, the procuring and training of the crew, and if the race
is important, the command of that too. Most likely tin-
crew will be composed of mermen, amply compensated for
their services, and an amateur or two, one of which perhaps
is the owner, of course all this costs, the builder having
to be paid for his labor of getting (In- boat ready, and if he
wins the race he naturally expects sc -I hing extra.
There are some owners, however, who attend to all the-,
matters personally, and then expenses an rednee-d to a v ei \
low figure.
If a boy has become the happy possessor of a Loal
is desirous of In-coming a good sailor. Ilieiv is no reason
why he shouldn't have the pleasure of racing his I, .,.-,: .
IN WINTER QUARTERS.
if his supply of pocket money is limited, provided he per-
sonally attends to all the work connected with his boat.
Besides saving much expense, it will serve to thoroughly
acquaint him with every part of his craft, a perfect idea of
her construction and rigging. If he makes a point of rin-
ging her in the spring and dismantling her in the fall, he
will know what to do if some part of his ligginj gives
way when he is sailing: and not lie obliged to do as the
owner of a line boat on the Shrewsbury b'iver did last vear
when the lashings of a throat-halyard block gave wav.
lower sail and wait for a friend to tow him in.
We will suppose it to be spring and the boat to be in
winter quarters on shore. Naturally it is to be supposed
that after being out of water for some months her scam,
will have opened considerably. Do not attempt to calk
her in this condition, for if you should. you would run a good
risk upon the boards swelling of badly warping the plank-
ing. First of all. put the boat in the water and allow hei to
till, letting her remain in this condition until the plank::i .
has swollen to the utmost ; then pull the boat up on land
and let her diy for a day or so, so that the paint will take.
If the bottom is dirty, take a scrubbing -In -us], and water
and thoroughly clean it. After the boat is dry. examine
all the seams carefully, and where the openings appear too
large to be stopped with paint till them with calking cotton
soaked in white lead, (io over all the oilier seams with
white lead, and allow the whole 'to dry. Give the bot-
tom a good coat of either copper or arsenic paint, ami
paint the above water body. After these coats have dried.
go over the hull earefnllv with sandpaper, and remove all
inequalities. (iive the bottom ami upper body at.-
coat, laying it smoothly so as to give that tine gloss so
pleasing to the eye and so essential to the raeing boat.
Take up the flooring and give the inside of your hoai
couide of good coats of paint, devoting particular atleinion
to the centreboard trunk where it .joins ih< keelson.
Examine the deck, particularly the joint with the coai g.
Where there are any large openings, it the deck is painted,
calk them with cotton, if varnished, till them w ith putty.
If the deck is a varnished one. remove all the remai.
last year's varnish with sandpaper, ami give the dee k
several coats of marine varnish. The deck should be var-
nished at le-ast once a month during tlie si ason to keep it
in good condition. At this time it would be well to 1-iing
v o n r sail out and lay il on the ground in 1 be sun so as to
allow it to bleach, and give the centreboard a a
ing and varnishing or painting, as the case mav be. Tin
boat is now ready to be put in the water. Itring 01
and spars, scrape w ith glass and sandpaper, and var-
nish them. Now slep the masi. It the boat is a small
one it mav Lie lifted iii by hand, but if it is a 1.1
pair of .sheai - IB See sketch.) Tlu- shears
consist ol two poles, about ball' tlie length of th-
bet t er il" longer), two ex I re mi ties of which are las'
gether, and the others planted lirmly in the g
891
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
METHOD OF SCRAPING BOTTOM.
whole being sup-
ported at an angle
of about 45° by a
guy-rope. At the
junction of the
two poles lash one
of the blocks of
the throat - hal-
yards, allowing
the other to swing
free. Attaching
the mast or any
other very heavy
weight to this
block it may be lifted in with ease. Put the gaff and boom
in place, and lace the sail on. It will be quite a time before
the sail will stretch to its fullest extent, ami it will be
necessary to stretch it along the gaff and boom after every
onting for some time to come or it will not set properly.
A few words here about the care of the sail may not be
out of place. Novel' roll a sail np when wet. Nothing
will rot and mildew it more quickly. If yon are compelled
to [int the boat up for the night when the sail is damp, tic
a few stops around it at intervals, and allow it to hang
loosely between them, just, using a sufficient number to
prevent the sail from thrashing about in case of a strong
wind during the night. As soon as possible after a rain
hoist the sail and let it dry. The quickest way to dry a
sail is to hoist it to the full extent along the mast and drop
the peak, and raise the boom quite high with the toppen
lift. This will cause the sail to bag greatly, and the wind
shaking it- will soon dry the moisture out.
Your boat has been in the water for some time, and you
have entered it for a race. The first thing to do in this
case is to examine its bottom. This may be effected by
selecting a shelving beach, and running your boat as far
np as possible at high water, having previously removed
all extra weights. Secure two guy -ropes to the mast-
head, ami drive stakes on each side of the boat about twenty
feet off. Fasten the ropes to these stakes, so when the tide
goes out they will hold the boat on an even keel, and on
the receding of the tide it will be an easy matter to ex-
amine the under body of the boat.
If the bottom is so foul as to require repainting, construct
ways and haul out, scraping and painting as in the begin-
niug of the season. If the bottom should need only a
slight cleaning and polishing slacken one of the guy-ropes
so that the boat, will rest on its side, and scrub clean with
water and a stiff brush, polishing with cloths. After this
side is finished pull the boat up to an even keel and slack
away the other rope so it will rest on the other side, thus
permitting you to get at the rest of the tinder-water body.
If yon are so fortunate as to possess a racing-sail and spars,
unship the old ones and ship the racing-spars and sail.
If you have not,
your boat is
about ready. Re-
move all extra
weights (except-
ing ballast), and
if movable bal-
last is permitted
STEPPING MAST WITH SHEAKS.
A FLYING START.
take it aboard.
Examine all your
rigging careful-
ly, and do not
omit to go over
it again just be-
fore starting in
the race. All
this should be
finished the day before the race.
Ranking almost equal in importance to the condition of
the boat is the training of the crew. The length of time
required before the race to get the crew in condition will,
of course, depend upon the knowledge of the individuals.
If the members have a fair idea of their business a few
hours before the race will be sufficient, but if they do not,
the, sooner the training commences the better. For a racing
crew to be handy, every man in it must know his especial
part in all the manoeuvres, and when a manoeuvre is or-
dered must do it quickly and with the least confusion pos-
sible, and not try in an excess of zeal to attempt to do
more than his part, unless so ordered. Above all, every
man must obey implicitly and without question any order
of the Captain, for no boat can be handled properly by its
crew when anybody but the Captain is permitted to give
orders. As to the number of the crew, the average cat-boat
of. let us say, eighteen or twenty feet will require a helms-
man.usually Captain, sheet-tender, centreboard-temler,and
a man to look after the hal-
yards. If your boat is so
small as not to have so
many men allotted to it, the
centreboard and halyards
may tie tended by one man.
If, on the contrary, more
men than the requisite num-
ber are allowed, take the ex-
tra men, if the day is windy,
as ballast only, or if movable
ballast is permitted, as shift-
ers.
Do not divide the work
ii]i into small parcels and
give each one a little to
do, it creates too much mov-
ing about when under \\ ay,
a thing not in the least de-
sirable. Yon might, how-
ever, have an understanding
\\ith them as to what they
are to do in an ciiieigi-ncy,
such astakingin or shaking
out a reef. Here a slight di-
gression on taking in a reef
when under way may be
pardoned. When under way
diop the sail so that the de-
sired reef-points are about
in a line with the boom,
and when they are in the
right position let the boat
892
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
come up into the wind so that tin- boom
will be inboard. Then order the crew to
spread along the boom, and when the bow-
man has fastened the desired cringle at
the jaws of the boom, have them catch
hold of the sail, stretch it along the boom,
the sheet-tender making fast the cringle
on the leach (outer edge) to the boom. As
soon as this is accomplished tie the reef in.
When all the reef-points are tied, let the
boat's head fall off and continue on course,
as the peak and throat may be properly
hoisted, especially when you are strongly
manned, nearly as well tinder way as when
in the wind. This operation, so long on
paper, may, with a well- trained crew, be
accomplished almost in the time it takes
to read this. Shaking out a reef is a very
easy matter, and will need no mention.
The whole aim in the training of a racing
crew may be summed up as follows: Ev-
ery man to know his part and do it when
required. The lirst thing after explaining
clt'arly to each man his particular station
is to get the crew accustomed to the boat.
A good way to do this is to take a spin at
every opportunity with them over the
course, making a careful note yourself of
tin1 bearings of the different marks by ob-
jects on shore, so that yon will nut lose
valuable time in the race in finding them.
Do not allow any lagging in these spins,
for it is liable to lead to a blunder in the
rare, luil maintain the same discipline as
you would at. that time.
The hour of the race is at hand. Your crew is aboard,
and after a careful examination of the running- rigging,
blocks, mast-hoops, sail and its lacings, you set out for the
starting-point. Arriving there, procure your racing num-
ber, and after fastening it upon the sail, take your boat
out and cruise around in the vicinity of the starling-line,
using this opportunity to practise yum cn-w in tacking,
gybing, and other evolutions likely to be encountered dur-
ing a race. Upon hearing the preparatory gun, it is best
tu yet near the line. If you feel confident that you have
your boat well in hand, yon might mana'nvre for a Hying
start, but if you are a little uncertain, it is best to secure a
good position, and let your sail flap in the wind close as
the boat lies stationary close to the line.
If the first leg is close hauled or a thrash to windward,
it is advantageous to get away as near the front as
possible, as the boats slower in starting usually get oil' in
a hunch and cut up each other's wind. If the start is off
the wind this is not so important. A Hying start is \er\
desirable, but it requires careful calculation and handling
to bring your boat to the line at the right moment; and
if by some mistake you should cross a few seconds before
RIGHTING A CAPSIZED BOAT.
FINISHING BEFORE THE WIND.
the gun, yon would lose lots of valuable time in recrossiug
again. In a one-gun start the importance, of getting off
quickly is greater than iu a two-gnu. Hang! goes the
starting gun. You are over the line, close -hauled must
likely, on the starboard tack (on account of having right
of way). Do not make the common mistake of hauling
\oiir boom in nearly amidships and jamming your boat up
into the wind; it will not. pay. It increases the drift, and
\oiir boat will not "foot" it as fast as one that is allowed
a little more leeway. Again, do not let your boat sag off
too far or a heavy gust may cause a " knockdown." with
the consequent loss of much ground. Always be ready to
luff and take advantage of any little gnsi of wind, and it
is astonishing the amount of windward gain a clever sailor
makes iu this way. This does not mean to luff so much at
every putt as to dump the wind out of your sail, or attempt
to sail so close to the wind as not to yet its full power.
The amount of sail carried should be proportionate to the
wind ; it is a great mistake to oversail a boat so that it
w allows through the seas, necessitating luffing or dumping
out the wind in the squalls and lowering of the peak when
running before the wind. The angle of heel ai \\hich
your boat sails best can only be determined by experi-
ment, and it is a great blunder lo carry sail so as to heel
her to a greater one. When sailing clo.se hauled or to
windward, all obstructions that may catch the w hid should
be placed below deck if possible, or if it should he
sary to have the crew up to windward, let them la\
to the deck. (See sketch of start. 1
As to the distribution of weight, aim to h:ne \niir boat
sail on the, proper water-line at all limes: do not allow
your crew, when bcaliuy to windward, to pile all. so as in
escape spray, and so lifl the how out, al t be same timi
not get \ourbow too deeply in. When ica.h to go aboiil
(go on other tack), gi\ <• t he order " hard a lee," and '•
the' tiller, the unbalanced action of the wind on the sail
will bring the boat up into the wind \\iih a sweeping
curve, and then use the rudder to put her on the other tack.
hi this way you will go about ca-il\. and will not log-
head wa% . as is I lie case w hen t he t iller is jammed OVi
the beginning. Immediate!) on heariny the uruer •• hard
a lee," the crew should stand reaih to shift the' ballast,
and as the buat rounds up should chanye it rapidly,
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
to have it to windward when tin- sail fills on the other
tack. A manoeuvre of the same character should be ex-
ecntcd when luffing around a mark.
Always be sure before going about that you have plenty
of board down. We will suppose that you have lutt'ed
around the lirst mark, and tin- next leg is a run with the
wind at'l of abeam. This will not l>c particularly exact-
in;;, the only points to keep in mind being to have your
u ater-line on pro]>rr trim, a full sail, and a straight course.
The second mark will have to be gybed around. This
is a manienvie your crew cannot be too well drilled in.
(.Jive yourself plenty of room, and do not attempt to shave
too closely. I witnessed last summer the capsizing of a
boat resulting from this desire.
The mark was a buoy placed near a heavy stake, and the
helmsman of the boat wishing to make a close shave steered
too near it, and in passing fouled Ins sheet-rope oil the stake
bcfoK gybing; the lesulf was the boat became unmanage-
able, and its momentum carrying it around gybed the sail
over, causing an upset. As yon near the mark have the
man forward stand by the peak-halyard, ready to let go if
anything happens wrong. As you arc about to turn, have
the hoard raised and conic around with an easy sweep; but
not so rapidly that the sheet-tender cannot haul all the
sheet-rope in. The sheet should lie brought in with a
steady pull, and allowed to run out evenly. If any amount
of slack is given as the sail goes over, the wind on catching
on the other side, if it does not capsize the boat or carry
away something, will bring her head up into the wind with
such force that it will be some seconds before you can over-
come it with the rudder.
The remaining leg of our course we will suppose to lie
nearly free. When running this way the board should be
kept up, ami all the weight in the boat aft, as a boat under
the great pressure exerted 1>\ the wind when running this
way has a tendency to dig its nose under. It is not neces-
sary for your crew to lay down now, and you may allow
them to stand and stretch themselves, as whatever wind
they will catch will help the boat instead of retarding, as
in the other cases. (See sketch of finish.) The ouly thing
to be looked out for when running fiee, or nearly so, is a
"goose-wing." This ha ppens when the wind is so strong
as to cause the boom to jump up parallel to the mast, and
the sail wrap around it. If when running before the wind
you find your boom is jumping too much, lowering the peak
a little will lessen the pressure on the sail, and stop it.
It is impossible to prophesy the result of the race, but I
can say that it depends equally on your boat and \om
management, with the training of the crew a close sec-
ond.
A few hints on how to right a capsized boat may not he
out of place here. If you should happen to be near some
boat that has capsized you w ill, doubtless, feel it your
duty to assist the
unfortunate. It is
not a difficult mat-
ter to right a boat
when yon go about
n in the proper
way. Kun your
boat alongside of
the capsized one's
mast and strip ils
sail oft', unfastening
the throat and peak
blocks, nnrecN mi;
the sheet-rope, and
cuttiugtuelashings
of the sail to the
mast - hoops. (15e
careful that the sail
does no sink.) Put your boat iu a position alongside the
bottom of the upturned boat, and unfasten your throat-hal-
yard block from the gatl'. Fasten this to the mast of the
capsi/ed boat, as shown In sketch. It will then be an easj
mattei' to pull the boat up to an even keel, when she may be
pumped out.
\Ye will suppose the autumn to have arrived, and you
PEAK LOWERED TO AVOID
'•GOOSK-WI.M.; "
are ready to put your boat in winter quarters. After re-
moving ballast, mast, sail, spars, etc., construct ways as
shown in the sketch of w inter quarters. They consist
principally of two skids, ou which the boat is run and hauled
out, but if you care for the condition of the boat's bottom,
a cradle .had better be made following the idea shown in
sketch. Pull the boat out to the end of the skids, and if it
is desirable to get it farther away from the water, lay
beams in front of the skids and pull the boat on them.
When free of the skids take them up and lay them in front
of the beams, repeating this operation until the boat is at
the distance desired. After removing everything, cover the
deck and cockpit w ith canvas. The sail should be sprinkled
with salt and a little lime, not too much or it will cause
rotting, the lime being used to bleach the sail only. This
should be rolled up and [lacked away iu a dry place, and
the mast and spars should also be under shekel, but not
where there is too great heat.
We have lollowed the fortunes of our boat from the be-
ginning of the season until the end. Unfortunately the
limited space ot this article compels the mere mention of
some points on which whole volumes could be written.
Il is only the purpose of this paper to treat this subject
in the broadest fashion, and to give only general hints
for the use of the beginner in one of the most manly of
sports. prni.EY D. F. PAHKEK.
PUDDING
STICK
Tills Department iscondncted in tile interest of Girls and Yonn? Women, tinrl tni. K.m..r»ill
!».• |>[. M-.'. I t'i miiwfi a iv ijiiesu'iu on Hie suliji-i't so fur its possible. Correspondents snouM
li.Mir:.. I-Mil-r.
IHEAKD a girl spoken of the other day by one of her
friends as a perfect candy fiend. It made me laugh,
because I knew the girl in question, and I had never ob-
served anything fiendish or malevolent about her. How-
ever, it is so much the fashion for girls to use sweeping
expressions, that I am never a bit surprised when I hear
••awful,'' "dreadful," "horrible," "terrible." and other
strong words of that kind used without much reference to
their exact meaning. I suppose the young girl described
so alarmingly is very fond of candy, for which nobody can
blame her; not I, certainly, especially if it be home-made.
Hut I will imagine that each of my girls has an allowance,
so much given her a week to spend as she/ pleases. What
proportion of this should she devote merely to gratifying
her taste for sweet things? Do yon not think it rather
foolish to spend so much on bonbons, caramels, and creams,
that a girl has nothing left when she wishes to help clothe
a poor family whose house has been burned over their
heads, to buy a pretty framed photograph for her room,
or to make a Christmas present for her mother or dear
friend ?
IT is quite time, by-the-w ay, for us to begin the consider-
ation of our Christmas presents in these bright days of late
summer. By giving a little thought and time to the mat-
ter, paying attention to small wishes and wants which ale
spoken of in the family, we can often give our friends and
ourselves much more pleasure than can be done when e\ er\ -
thing is left to the hurry of the last few weeks of the \ ear.
I heard a lady say the other evening, "I have at least six
•;irl friends who knit beautifully, and I do wish one of them
would make me a fascinator.'' "And pray what may a
fascinator be .'"said I. Ami I learned that it was simply a
beautiful tleecy thing to wear upon the head in the evening.
II used to be called a " cloud'' when I was a girl ; and in my
girlish days I always kept one on hand to use up odd
moments. It is pretty, dainty work. Bedroom slippers.
crocheted and made up over lamb's-wool soles, are welcome
gifts to receive, and not hard to make. Jlay I add that a
present is much more likely to give satisfaction to the re-
HARPER'S ROUND TAIJLE
fastened on the cover ..fit one dewy, long-stemmed rose.
broke into joyous brays. Afterward the\ ran aioumi.
\ 11 ii ., '" J'-V "l • ' I <l \ .-», Jlll»lUill'lllH\I,(ll;tl
A caudle and candle-stick is a graceful and useful present. jumped, kicked, and rolled on the grass as if mad.
11)11 K 1H ) \Y I M M I. (111O <^ll f til I I 'lln-.n-c. ]> n i-r. „ I,,,.! ... 11_ 1 1 • I . ,- n
You know
ni
The
that one should always have a bedroom caudle delight of freedom, the sun, and the pure air were more to
It is a comfort to have it standing on a little them than the food tliey refused to eaf when it was put
table near the bed with a supply of matches. One never before them.
need then be in the dark a moment if a, light happen to be
necessary. I saw- a very quaint and charming caudle-stick
the other day. It was in the shape of a monk with a cowl
and robe, and he was patiently holding up a long crimson
candle. Candles may lie had in many colors, some of them
very ornamental, and candle-sticks come in china, silver,
and bronze, and sometimes very pretty ones in tin, though
I do not recommend \ou to give a fin candle-stick as a
present if you can afford one in another material.
ON BOARD THE AKK.
I! V A Li; KKT I, EE.
<• II A I-T i: i: v.
OMMY and the ex-Pirate and the Gopher remained
quietly perched on the rafter for some minutes afler
the big Ark hail begun to move; but when they found that
none of the animals nut iced them, -i nee all seemed so husv
PRESENTS of one's own work are always very much ap- attending to their own affairs, they slid
predated, and there are many beautiful things in linen,
such as doilies, centre-pieces, and the like, which are wel-
come additions to your mother's table, so that yon cannot
go wrong in choosing something in linen to embroider for
her. A set of towels with a monogram in the corner makes
a very tasteful gift, and I can imagine nothing lovelier
than for a family of girls, or a class, to embroider a bed-
spread for a mother or teacher. This, of course, would be a
large undertaking, and should be begun many months be-
fore the time it is wanted, and you would have great fun
in keeping the affair a secret. I saw a very beautiful bed-
spread some weeks ago at a house where I was a guest.
The lady who is making it has been engaged on it for years,
and il is very elaborate — cream-colored linen of the finest
texture, covered all over with beautiful vines and flowers.
She has worked always from the flowers themselves, copy-
ing them faithfully in shape and tint.
WIIKX you are writing to me it would be very pleasant
to have you tell me of beautiful Christmas gifts yon intend
to make. A girl in Maine might have a suggestion which
would be acted upon by a girl in Nebraska. I will be ex-
tremely pleased to be the medium through which girls
both North and South may give each other happy thoughts
and charming suggestions about presents which are to be
made for the next Christmas holidays. May I quote a bit
from your letter, dear Tillie T.? It may give some of the
girls an idea on which they may like to act. Tillie says:
"With the help of two of my friends I am making a hospi-
tal box. Can you tell me some children's hospital to send
it to? And is it a very childish thing to do? For we
really enjoy making the things, as well as thinking of the
pleasure they will "jve the children later. We have made
cambric scrap - leaves, paper dolls with dresses of tissue-
paper, a menagerie and circus of paper animals, and over
Sixty colored paper dolls- -the sort which have dresses to
come off."
PERHAPS somebody can suggest an addition to Tillie's
already generous list. St. Mary's Free Hospital for Chil-
dren. West Thirty-fourth Street. New York city, will be
very glad to receive any gifts which our readers would like
to send to it.
Tin; poor patient mules that drag the tram-cars far down
in the mines rarely enjoy the light of day. Sometimes
intervals of years pass before they are brought to the sur-
face, and far below in the dense darkness of the mines they
toil from mouth to mouth, seeing no light other than that
of the miners' flickering lamps.
Recently some mules that had for a number of years
hauled the trams in the lower tunnel of a coal-mine were
brought to the surface. The strong li^ht of the sun dazzled
ig I he beam
until they could look out into the main room and see what.
was going on. That is. Tommy and the ex-Pirate slid
along, but the Gopher remained where he was, apparently
sound asleep.
"What do you suppose they will do next ?" asked the
little boy.
"Fight or eat, I guess," answered the ex-Pirate. "All
animals fight or eat."
"I don't think I should like to see them fight," continued
Tommy. And then he added. "Don't you think it is getting
dark in here ?"
"Very much so," said the ex-Pirate, looking about. " I
suppose they will light up pretty soon. It's alwa.\s dark
on a rainy day, you know."
"What kind of lights do you suppose they will have .'"
"Ark -lights, of course," said the ex -Pirate. "What
other kind would you expect on a boat of this kind '! Did
you suppose the two Tapirs would be bright enough ? If
you had ever had any dealings with a Tapir you would
know what a stupid beast he is. Don't you remember my
classic about him :
"Said the Monkey to [lie Tapir,
One Sunday afternoon,
'Won't you ler me have some paper, etc., etc. ...
The Tapir sold writing-paper, you see. But he was too
stupid to get along in the business. That's why it is called
a stationary business."
Tommy was about to answer — he hardly knew what —
when a bump and a squeal interrupted the conversation.
The sleeping Gopher had fallen off' the rafter. This acci-
dent might have caused a good deal of trouble if a i;n at
hubbub had not started at the other end of the room at tin-
same moment. There were squeals and howls ami yelps,
as if one was being killed. In the rush and confusion the
liopher mixed with the crowd, and Tommy could only oc-
casionally catch a glimpse of his pink sun-bonnet bobbin^
up now and then in the swarui that was struggling in the
distance.
"I wonder what has happened .'" said the little boy.
leaning as far forward as he dared.
"First light, I guess," muttered the ex-Pirate " lint I
think we had better stay up here and wait till it's all
over."
"I guess we had," assented Tommy. But they did not
have to wait very long, for the Gopher so ame scurry-
ing back and climbed quickly up beside them.
" Goodness! Goodness me '." he cried.
•• What's the matter '" asked I he ex- Pi rate, eagerly.
"The Dachshund was phnin". lag with a Chinese Pim.
and he fell through the trap-door."
"Oh, my !" exclaimed Tommy.
" You ought to see him," pursued I he Gopher. " He fell
all the way dowu to the hold, and his legs are jammed
away up into his body and twisted all out of shape, flux 're
only about three inches long now. and even the Klephant
could not pull them out straight. lie is disli-nicd for all
time."
895
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
•LET'S ORGANIZE! .
WHAT IS LIFE WITHOUT ORGANIZATION?
"Can't any one help liini '!" asked the ex-Pirate.
"He won't let any one. The Duck, who was educated
in divers practices, offered his services as doctor, but the
Dachshund would not have him. Said he was a quack."
There was a brief silence ; then the Gopher added: "They
are trying to find out who opened the trap-door, and so I
ran away. I came in that way; but I'm sure I shut the
trap after me."
"We came in that way too," said the ex-Pirate.
" Yes, and I came np tirst," put in T my. " Yon were
last up. Did you shut the door?"
"I guess I did not," admitted the ex-Pirate. "But it
was the Sheep's fault ; he put it out of my mind."
By this time the excitement had abated, and the animals
were scattered in groups again. The Dachshund went
waddling about the floor on his short crooked legs, to the
great amusement of the Storks and Cranes, who still had
long straight legs, and Tommy said,
" Well, I never knew before how it happened that those
dogs had such funny legs." But the Gopher said nothing,
and still trembled for fear some one would find out he had
come in through the trap.
The wind was blowing fiercely outside, and as it howled
around the corners and under the eaves of the Ark it
sounded notes like those of an ^Eolian harp.
" Music, isn't it?" remarked Tommy. "It sounds like a
fiddle."
The ex-Pirate almost jumped oft" the rafter.
" Fiddle!" he exclaimed. " Who said fiddle? Is there a
fiddle on board ? If there is, I'm going to jump !"
'• 1 did not say there was a fiddle on board," remonstrated
Tommy. "I said it sounded like a fiddle."
"Oh!"
" What are you so afraid of a fiddler for?"
"If I tell you yon will easily understand," answered the
ex-1'iratc, with a deep sigh.
•• \Vell, tell us. Is it interesting?"
"Yes, and I can give it to you in rhyme. Will you
have it in four verses or in six ?"
"I gness four will do," answered the little boy, and lie
leaned over and pulled the Gopher up closer. " Come and
hear the poetry," he said.
The ex-Pirate turned toward his audience on the rafter,
and recited:
"There once was a fiddler
whose name was
MePhee,
And he fiddled, he fiddled,
did lie.
He fiddled so loud and lie
fiddled so long
That the neighbors all
thought there must be
something wrong
With this fearful old fel-
low, this fiddler Me-
Phee,
For he fiddled, he fiddled,
did he.
"So one day the neighbors
all went up to see
What the cause of this un-
ceasing fiddling could
be.
They appointed committees
to go in and speak
In behalf of them all to
this fiddling freak,
Who had fiddled all day and
all night for a week ;
But their efforts all failed
with this frightful
McPliee,
Who fi Idled for fun, he
fiddled, did he.
" The first man to face the
tiddler MePhee
Was a fat little fellow, who
said, ' Sir,' said he,
' You fiddle all night and you fiddle all day,
You fiddle and fiddle your whole time away;
Won't you tell us the reason why all this should be?'
But the fiddler still fiddled, he fiddled, did he.
"But finally, while fiddling, he said, 'Sir,' said he,
'You will greatly oblige me by letting me be;
All your fussing and fretting and fuming,' said he,
'Is nothing at all — it's fiddledidee !'
So he kept on a fiddling, this fellow MePhee,
And he fiddled, and fiddled, and fiddled, did he.
"And I was one of the neighbors," added the ex-Pirate.
"And did not Mr. Mcl'hec stop .'" a.sked Tommy.
"No. We all had to move. He had a ninety-nine years'
lease."
" I don't blame yon," said the Gopher.
The ex-Pirate was about to propose reciting four more
verses when there occurred another commotion, and the
Hippopotamus stood up on bis awkward hind legs and
shouted :
" Let's organize! We ought to organize ! What is life
without organization ? I move we elect a president —
But before he could express his views any further the
Lion walked up to him and buffeted him with his paw,
and growled:
" Sit down ! If there is any organizing to be done, / will
do it. I want yon to understand that I am the King of
Beasts, and we won't have any presidents this trip."
Whereupon the poor old Hippopotamus rubbed his sore
jowls, and waddled slowly off to another part of the room.
Then the Lion got up on a big chair, with the Lioness
at his side, and made a speech. Tommy and the ex-Pirate
could not hear what he said, because they were so far
away : but the animals all seemed very attentive and much
pleased, for they continually nodded their heads, and at the
close of the oration the Gopher, who in some manner had
managed to catch every word, waved his sun-bonnet in the
air and cried :
•' Hooray ! We're going to eat !"
"I told you so," whispered the ex-Pirate; and then he
suggested to Tommy that they go down to the floor and
mingle with the animals, and try to find the Sheep, so as
to have a chance at the meal, if that were possible.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
896
u
JKINTERSCHOI£\STIG
T^HE LAWN-TENNIS TOURNAMENT for the Interscholastic
championship of the United States was finished at New-
port last week, first honors being carried off by Leonard E.
Ware, of the Roxlinry Latin School, Boston, Mass. Ware is,
beyond doubt, the best man of the four players who came
to represent the schools, and he proved, both by his play in
the two iuterscholastic matches and by the work he has done
on various courts this summer, that he has unquestionably
the .strongest claim to the title of interscholastic champion.
He defeated both Beaman and Sheldon without any trou-
ble, the latter being the stronger rival, and standing for the
full five sets. In the first match Beatnan took the first
set from Ware, but after that the latter warmed up and had
everything his own way. Sheldon's contest with Waltz
was a walk-over for the Hotchkiss School player, as the
score will show. The summaries follow:
L. E. Ware,
M. G. Beaman,
Ware, 3-6, 6-2, 6-4, 6-3.
J. P. Sheldon, Jan., I HHoi,i,,,, 01 a o « 1
C F Wultz t" oneluou, b-1, o-2, o-l.
Ware, 6-4, 2-6, 7-5, 6-8, 6-1.
THE BEST PLAYING WARE DID during the entire period
of the tournament at Newport was in his match with Foote
of Yale, whom he met in the third round. Foote won —
4-6, 6-4, 6-0, 8-10, 8-6 — but it was a hard-earned victory,
and gave the spectators some of the best tennis to
watch that the tournament afforded. WTare will undoubt-
edly rank as one of the leading players of the country next
year, and I count on him to hold the national champion-
ship before he gets out of college. His strongest quality
seems to be steadiness, and in addition to this he possesses
determination and sand.
WAI:K WON ins FIRST SET against Foote by good lobbing
and clever side-line strokes. His back-hand strokes along
the side-lines were especially fine. In the first game of the
second set deuce was called three times before Foote got
the score, and several times afterwards there were equally
exciting moments. The third set was a love, one for the
Yale man. He defeated Ware by playing a lobbing game
whenever he could. The latter was especially weak in
placing his smashes, most of them being returned within
Foote's easy reach. This is, no doubt, Ware's weak point,
for it was mainly by this that he lost the set.
THE FOURTH SET was the most sensational of (he live.
and it was here that the scholast ic. player showed the pluck
that was in him. In the first game he placed prettily,
winning at fifteen, and he scored again in tin- second by
the same tactics, and in the third by wonderful side-line
work. Exciting rallies were the features of the next two
games, in the latter Ware bringing the score from love forty
up to deuce; but after deuce was called four times Foote
scored, mainly through his persistent lobbing. Perhaps
the best tennis of all was shown in the tenth game, when
applause by the spectators was almost continuous. Ware
won it, although Foote had him 40-lf>, and was within one
point of the match. Losing that point gave him another
set to play. Eighteen games were required to decide this
set, which was the longest and, beyond a doubt, one of the
most exciting of the tournament.
TUB FIFTH SET consumed one solid hour of play, and
went to Foote — 8-6. As in the former sets, Ware gave a
great exhibition of pluck, and with the score 2-4 against
. him, tied the figures. It was then nip and tuck until each
man had secured five games. At a critical point, however,
and one which probably would have altered the result con-
siderably, Ware was unfortunate in getting an obviously
poor decision from one of the linesmen. The whole set
was largely a question of endurance rather than of profi-
ciency, and in this the older and stronger player natural-
ly excelled.
THIS DEPARTMENT HAS BEEN QUESTIONED a number ..t'
times as to how the racing length of a yacht is determined.
As the International Cup races are interesting every sports-
man just now, and as the ROUND TABLE this week gives mi
another page an article descriptive of cat-boat-racing, this
seems a particularly apt time to devote a few paragraphs
to this very complicated feature of yachting. We all know,
of course, that upon the difference between the r;i< nm
lengths of two yachts depends the time allowance whirh
THE NEWPORT TENNIS COURTS.
897
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
one boat must allow the other in a contest of speed. This
length is obtained by adding the square root of the sail
area to the length of the load water-line, and dividing the
result by two. The quotient is the racing length.
THE LOAD WATER-LINE, which is the distance between
the points of the bow and stern, exclusive of the rudder-
]>o-i.is ascertained as follows: Strip the yacht of every-
thing except what she will carry in the race, and assemble
amidships the crew which is to man her. Then drop a
plumb-line from her bow to the water, and measure accu-
rately the distance between the point where the line
strikes the water and the intersection of the forefoot with
the water. Repeat the same operation at the stern. Then
mark oft' these distances on the deck, the first being mea-
sured back from the bow, and the second forward from the
stern. The distance between these two points is the length
of the load water-line of the yacht. It is measured oil the
deck, because the rounding of the hull, of course, makes it
impossible to get a straight line from bow to stern on the
water.
To GET THE CORRECT SAIL AREA requires more labor. It
is determined by the dimensions of the spars and those of
the jib-topsail stay. If it were not for the length of the
gaft' a triangle would be formed by the base-line, the stay
and the leach of the topsail and mainsail. Then the area
could be easily calculated. But the projection of tin/ gait
spoils the triangle, and so the first thing to do is to measure
the distance from the end of the boom to the forward side
of the mast. From that point measure to a point on the
bowsprit half-way between the jib-stay and the jib-topsail
stay. These, added together, give the actual base-line.
Then take the height of the mast and the height of the
topmast. "The length of the gaft' is next ascertained, and
from this is subtracted eight-tenths of the height of the
topmast. The difference between these is added to the
actual base-line, the result giving the corrected base-line.
EXPERIENCE SHOWS that this addition offsets very ac-
curately the number of square feet of sail lying between a
straight line drawn from the end of the boom to the sheave
of the topsail halyards, and — considering that line as a base
— the two legs of the triangle extending from the end of
the boom to the peak of the gaff, and from the peak of the
gaft' to the topmast. Then the length of the corrected base-
line is multiplied by the height of the mast, taken from
the deck to the sheave on the topmast, and the result is di-
vided by two. After obtaining these measurements, pro-
ceed as stated above — that is, add the square root of the
sail area to the length of the load water-line, and divide by
two. Then you have the yacht's racing length. There is
no doubt that it is a complicated problem.
BUT THIS METHOD is for sloop measurement. To get the
area of a cat-boat sail there is a simpler way, although
it is not so absolutely exact. Draw a line from the throat
to the leach parallel to the foot of the sail, and let fall from
the point of intersection of this line with the leach another
line parallel to the luff. The sail is then divided into a
rectangle formed by these two lines, the luff, and part of
the foot, and two triangles, one of which is bounded by the
head of the sail, a part of the leach, and your first line; the
second, by a part of the leach, a part of the foot, and your
second line. To compute the areas of these two triangles
and the rectangle, and to add them, is a matter of simple
mathematics. And then you have the area of your sail.
BETWEEN NOW AND THE TIME of the opening of the foot-
ball season I want to say something each week about the
game, more especially about tho cany training for it, and
the elementary principles of play which so many enthusi-
asts overlook at first, and consequently go in and fail. No-
body was ever born a football player. To become proficient
in the game you must devote many months to praet iee. and
several years to actual study of the game. Football is a
science, just as chess is a science — and there arc very IV w
gieat chess-players. There are very few great football
players. My advice to the young man who wants to excel
on the gridiron is first to find out, if he can, what position
he is best suited for (not what position he likes best), and
then to study and play that position steadily and fcrr all he
is worth. Go to as many big games as possible, and watch
the ineu who play your chosen position. See wherein they
excel, and note your own short-comings. In addition,
read everything you can get hold of about the science and
strategy of the game. There are a number of books on the
subject. And after yon have read pretty thoroughly,
think. No man can be a good football player unless he can
think out football problems for himself.
BUT MORE OF THAT LATER. The important question now
is that of preliminary training, and by far the most impor-
tant thing about preliminary training is to do not too
much at first. It is .not only unwise to work hard at
first, but it is dangerous. Most of the men have been
away on long vacations, and very few, if any, of them have
been taking any regular or systematic exercise. Conse-
quently their muscles are not prepared to endure the sud-
den strains and wrenches to which they are being .subject-
ed. It is a matter of record that more sprains and bruises
occur during the first few weeks of practice than at any
other time of the season.
FOR THE FIRST WEEK OR so the careful Captain will see
that his men perform only very light work. He will put
them through easy exercises, he will have them pass and
kick the ball and practise falling on it. Then he will have
his men take short runs across country, and do such general
light work for wind and muscle as will enable them to take
up hard practice without danger. Every mau should have
a heavy sweater or an overcoat at hand to put on as soon
as play is stopped, for every precaution should be taken to
avoid catching cold. Every football team should, if pos-
sible, have hot and cold water shower-baths convenient to
their dressing-rooms — for cleanliness is as important a
matter to the welfare of the players as fresh air. Long
hot baths are weakening and should be avoided, except
when a cold has settled in the muscles, and then hot water
is of value.
FOOTBALL PLAYERS should be regular in their daily hab-
its. They should rise, take their meals, and retire to bed
at the same hours every day ; and it is likewise a good thing
to have the practice at the same hour each afternoon, and,
if possible, at that hour of the day when matches will most
probably be played later in the season. The men should
have plenty of sleep, say from ten at night until seven
in the morning, and on rising they should, if possible, take
a short walk before breakfast. And now that the word
breakfast has fallen into the discussion let us look at the
commissariat side of" the football question.
THERE WAS A TIME when a fooball player was supposed
to make a martyr of himself, as far as the good things of
the kitchen were concerned. His bill of fare was made up
chiefly of raw beef, and he was permitted to drink only so
many glasses of water a day. This barbarous custom.
however, has now been done away with, and from personal
experience I can vouch for the delicious fare of the train-
ing-table of the present day. A football player's diet
must be restricted, of course, but there is an ample list left
that he may choose from. Roast beef, beefsteak, lamb
chops, roast lamb, broiled chicken, oatmeal, rice, mush, and
all kinds of cereal food, potatoes cooked in any style except
fried, vegetables, eggs, apple sauce, baked apples (never any
raw apples), prunes, oranges, grapes, tigs, dates, and all fruit
in season ; rice and bread pudding, stale bread, and dry
toast — all these can go on the bill of fare. The forbidden
dishes are pie, cake, salad, pork, veal, rich dressings, any-
thing fried, ice-cream, candy, soda-water, and any kinds of
drinks, alcoholic, malt, or soft. No tea, no coffee, no choco-
late, and — but this should go without saying — no tobacco.
ANOTHER IMPORTANT THING for the Captain of a football
team to give his closest attention to is the condition of his
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
men. He should watch them continually,
and note the slightest tendency toward
overtraining, i'i>r overtraining is much easier
to prevent than to remedy. As soon as a
player gets into this condition he should
take absolute rest for several days, and
thereafter he should only play for a short
time each day. A change of diet is a good
thing, too. Remove all restrictions from
the diet of the overtrained man, and let him
eat what he chooses for a few days. Over-
training shows itself in various ways, but
the most common is for a player to feel
worn and tired and disinclined to work
hard on the Held. This is simply an evi-
dence that his muscles have heeu worked
too hard, and have become so fatigued that
they cannot recuperate their full vitality
between one day's practice and the nest.
WHILE SPEAKING OF DIET I omitted say-
ing that ice-water should he shunned al-
most as if it were an alcoholic beverage.
Never have ice water on the training-table.
Drink cold water, but do not have it iced.
Ir is a bad thing, too, to allow players to
drink anything during practice or until an
lioiir after practice lias been stopped. This
will prove a hardship at lirst, as the mouth
gets dry and parched. Have a pail of water
near the field and a tin cup, and let the men
rinse their mouths, but do not pen. lit, tin-in
to drink. After a week or so they will be-
come accustomed to the abstinence, and
their saliva glands will act more freely.
Gum-chewing is a bad practice, too. Con-
stant mastication stimulates the glands; but
it is injurious in the end. just as all arti-
ficial methods are in whatever sphere they
may be practised.
THE FOOTBALL TEAM should work on the
field every day, rain or shine. Practice on
,a wet and muddy ground is necessary, be-
cause it frequently happens that the most
important game of the year (usually played
at the end of the season) has to be con-
tested on a rainy day. Thus practising in
the rain will accustom the players to run-
ning and dodging in the mud, and to hold-
ing a wet and slippery ball. If the storm
is such, however, that work in the open air
is out of the question, the team should
practise in - doors. Rehearsing signals is
ooo. I occupation for such occasions, and
practice in passing the ball and in tackling
can also be had. But unless in-door work
is unavoidable it should never be indulged
in during the active season. The work on
the field demands all the energy of the
players. THE GRADUATE.
STAMPS
This Department 19 conducted in the interest of stnmp and coin
collectors, and the Editor will be ple.isrd !<> m^wer sny question on
tbese subjects so far as possible. Correspondents sli.iul.l in Id res* Editor
Stamp Department.
THE American Philatelic Association has
just been holding its annual convention
tit Clayton, New York. Two sessions were
held each day August 13th, 14th, loth, and
Ib'th. This should be a very powerful so-
ciety, but is not on account of poor manage-
ment. For 1S95-96 the following officers
were elected: J. K. Titt'any, president ; Al-
vah Davison, vice-president; N.W. Chan-
dler, treasurer; C. W. Kissinger, secretary.
The next annual meeting will probably be
held in Wisconsin or Minnesota.
THE YEAI: 1888 the Belgium government
withdrew the 5 -franc stamp from use.
During its life about 45,000 were used, most
of which were probably saved by collectors.
A short time ago 2400 of these stamps, un-
used, were found in the Brussels post-office,
and these have just been .sold by auction to
one man, who paid 36,000 francs for the lot,
more than three times their face value.
THE MAKING OF NEW ISSUES of postage-
stamps primarily to sell to collectors has
not been stopped. Peru intends to issue
one commemorative stamp on September
10, 1895. Uruguay will issue three stamps
in commemoration of Joaquin .Suarez on
October 8, 1895. The pious Belgium post-
master proposes to make two series of local
stamps for use in Liege and Brussels in
commemoration of St. Lambert, the first
bishop of Belgium. France has surcharged
her own 15, •_'.">. HO, 50 centimes, and 1 franc
stamps D. S. for use in the colony of Diego
Suarez. I advise collectors to leave all
the above out of their collections. Any
money spent for them is simply thrown
away.
THE NEW 3, 5, 30, and 50 cent postage-due
stamps have been reported as issued; but uo
copies have yet reached the New York post-
office.
IT IS RUMORED in stamp circles that the
U. S. government is going to use paper wa-
ter-marked with an eagle for use in print-
ing stamps. I hope the postal authorities
will see that the water-mark will be made
sufficiently clear to be seen distinctly on
every stamp. The present system is simply
laughable. In 99 instances out of every 100
the present water-mark can be seen only
on the margins of the sheets, and one stamp
may contain the water-mark of a portion of
one letter only, while others have parts of
two letters. Other governments seem to
have no difficulty in making clear and ar-
tistic designs for use as water-marks. See,
for instance, the numerous Great Britaiu
water-marks illustrated in HAKPER'S ROUND
TABLE No. 821.
STILL THERE'S MORE to follow. Another
batch of the St. Louis stamps has turned up,
and philatelists are wondering how many
there were in that Louisville find (not Kan-
sas City as stated in last week's issue). Per-
haps some one has the plate. About a. \ ea i
ago a New York dealer was approached Ipy
a man who claimed to have the plate in his
possession and offered to print a lot, but the
dealer was shy, and declined to make any
bargain until after a sample sheet had been
shown to lam for examination. As this was
not done, negotiations ceased.
R. T K —The token inscribed on the reverse, "Not
one cent (or tribute, millions fur defence," issued
1841, is very interest hi<_'. Ir is one of the " hard-
money tokens'" issued between 1837 and 1842, and
are very common. They have no money value. The
1871 U. S. dollar is worth face only.
E. PATTISON. — The coins mentioned are quite com-
mon, and are worth face only
W. GOFF. — There is no way of cleaning c:in'''-llr(l
postage-stamps, hence the high value of nmst UIHI^T!
compared with used specimens. For inMain •<•. Mu-
ll. S. 3C.-1S57, with outer line, used sells for 25c.,bnt
unused commands S15.
E. F. KDT.TZ.— The K die U. S. envelope 1S53 iseue
on buff can be bought for $3 and less, whether the
stamp shows cancellation mark or not. If the entire
envelope is unused and clean it is worth $10 and up-
ward. On white paper the prices are much higher.
C. C.B.— The dealers pay $1 15 each Inr the I s.
gold dollars dated 1850 to 1S55, and sell them fin out
$1 50. These are the common dates. The valuable
gold dollars are tjiose of which a few copies only were
coined within the past twenty years.
B. MAGKI.SKN. — There are not two varieties of any
Columbian stamp, but almost every denomination <-:ni
be found in two or more distinct shades. Purple is a
very difficult ink to compound, so are certain reds.
For instance, there are over 100 different shades < it llie
current 2c. -stamp, all printed within the past year, and
all nominally the same color.
J. SMYTHK. — There are not many collectors of U. S.
envelopes bearing express names,such as Wells, Fargo,
& Co., etc. Hence the envelopes are rarely worth
more than the regular issues.
SAN ANTONIO.— The San Antonio of Padua jubilee
issue now current in Portugal and the Azores, al-
though good for postage in those countries, is frowned
upon by collectors, as their postal use is a mere side
issue, the chief reason why they were made being for
sale to collectors. There are fifteen varieties
1%, 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 50, 75, SO, 100, 150, 200, 300, 51)0, and
1UOO reis, also one 10-reis postal-card. The ^i
stamps are surcharged Acores for use in that colony.
A. LKWKAWSKY.— There are no reprints of U. S.
stamps issued after 1S70. If yon can buy the $1 and
$2 Columbian issue do so by all meaus. They are
going up in value rapidly. The present $1 stamp it is
said will be printed in some other color. If so. Hie
chances are that the black ones will advance in price
materially.
PHILATUS.
A.TD VKK.TISK.IVI K'.NXS.
Highest of all in Leavening Strength. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Baking
Powder
ABSOLUTELY PURE
HARPER'S NEW CATALOGUE,
Thoroughly revised, classified, and hide:
by mail to any address on receipt uf ten cents.
899
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
Bicycle route.
Fair bicycle road.
••*•» Ran I nay station.
ir~Hill or poor road.
«f. Hotel
BICYCLING
This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will be pleased to
answer any question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly
supplied from the official maps and road-books of the League of American Wheelmen Recog-
nizing the value of the work being done by the L A. W.. the Editor will be pleased t» tun isb
subscribers with membership blanks and information so far as possible.
ANOTHER pleasant ride out of Philadelphia into New-
Jersey is to the town of Vineland by way of Salem.
The entire distance is sixty-two miles, aud the run can, of
course, be made in one day, with a stop at Salem for dinner.
It is pleasanter, however, to make a two-days trip out of
it. If the weather is good and you still want to ride, a run
can be made from Vineland to Philadelphia direct on the
third day, though the roads are not in either good condition
or well made originally over the direct route. The first
stage will carry us to Salem, thirty-two miles from Phila-
delphia. Leaving the city at Market Street, cross to Caui-
deu and run down to Gloucester, or cross at the South Street
Ferry, if you choose, direct to Gloucester. Thence turning
to the right at the end of the Ferry Street, follow a direct
road to Westville, which you enter just after crossing the
track. The road is macadamized, is very level, aud in
pretty fair condition. From this point to Woodbury is
direct by the same macadamized road, the track being again
crossed a little over half-way to the latter place. The dis-
tance from Gloucester to Woodbury is about four miles.
ON LEAVING WoonBUJiY, take the right fork at the break
in the roads just outside of the village and run direct to
Berkley, which is to the westward of yon, passing through
Clarksboro, where the end of the macadam is readied and
a gravel road begins. The road is not uncertain anywhere
along the route, but from C'larksboro to Swedesboro it is as
nearly straight as a road could well be. The railroad runs
along on the western side half a mile or more away, passing
through Mickletown and Wolferts. Just after crossing the
road which runs into Wolferts station you will come to a
hill which is somewhat difficult, owing partly to the condi-
tion of the roadbed and partly to the steepness of the hill
itself. It is best to keep on the main road, even if you dis-
mount and walk over the hill itself.
AT SWEDESBORO A STOP can be made for dinner or
lunch at Ford's Hotel. You have now ridden fifteen miles
and covered about half the distance. Leaving Ford's
after a rest keep to the left instead of crossing the track,
and run along close by the rails seven miles to Woodstown.
A number of roads come together as you enter, aud to.
reach the centre of the village itself yon should keep to the
left fork and run along into the central square. If yon do
not mean to stop, keep to the right fork after crossing the
railroad, and run direct to Salem, ten miles away. A rider
can keep always to the left forks if he chooses on leaving
Woodstown until he has gone about two miles out, when
he should turn to the right at a fork and meet the main
bicycle road five or six miles from Woodstown. On the
whole, it is better to keep to the straight turnpike. The
whole route to Salem is remarkably level as country roads
go, and while the bed is gravel beyond Clarksboro, it is
nevertheless in reasonably good condition all the way. At
Salnu the Xelson House is a good place to stop for the
night.
NOTE.— Map of New York city asphalted stieets in No. 809. Map of
route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
Connecticut, in No. 811 New York to Staten Island iu No. 812. New
Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn iu No. S14.
Brooklyn to Babylon in No. S15. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816.
Tan-ytown to Poughkeepsie in No. 817. Ponghkeepsie to Hudson in
No. SIS. Hudson to Albany ill No. 819. Tottenville to Trenton in 820.
Trenton to Philadelphia in 821. Philadelphia in No. 822. Philadelphia
— Wissahickon Route in No. 823. Philadelphia to West Chester in No.
824. Philadelphia to Atlantic City— Firat Stage in No.. 825; Second
Stage iu No. 826.
Copyright, 1695, by Harper i Brothers.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Any questions in regard to photograph matters will be willingly-
answered by the Editor of this column, and we should be glad to hear
from any of our club who can make helpful suggestions.
WATERSCAPES.
TITHE amateur who lives inland, ami lias
J. made a success of landscapes, is usually
quite disappointed with his pictures of wa-
terscapes when he takes his summer outing
at the sea or lake shore. The photographs
are for the most part thin and flat, .-md,
while detail is not lacking, there is no
contrast between light and shadow.
The reason is that one is not prepared for
the intense light with which the whole
scene is flooded, and consequently the plate
is exposed too long. The reflection from
the water almost doubles the intensity of
the light. This may be noticed when fo-
cussing the image. Every part of the scene
reflected on the ground -glass is so well
illuminated that there are none of those
dark masses of shadows which appear on
inland pictures. This the amateur at first
thinks is an advantage. In one respect it
is, for it enables one to get a sharp focus
much more easily. This seeming advantage
is really a great disadvantage. The strong
light on every object renders the developed
negative flat and without contrast.
One way to bring out the contrast is to
use a small diaphragm. Focus with a larger
diaphragm and then put in a small one.
The change iu the image on the ground-
glass will be at once noticed. Instead of
being evenly lighted, the shadows are soft-
ened, and if a quick exposure is made, and
the negative carefully developed, a picture
will be obtained with as artistic gradations
between the lights and shadows as iu those
•of a landscape.
In developing instantaneous pictures
taken at the sea-shore a great deal of judg-
ment must be exercised. In the first place,
as the light to which the plate has been ex-
posed is very strong, the picture must be
put in the developer iu a very dim light,
uot allowing any of the direct rays from the
a'ed light to strike the plate. As soon as
the plate is covered with the developer put
a cover over the tray, and do not expose to
the light till time for the picture to begin
to appear. If it comes up too quickly, take
it at once from the tray and put it in a dish
of clear water. Mix a fresh weak developer,
or dilute the same developer and add a few
•drops of bromide of potassium.
A weak solution of developer should be
•used to start the development. Let the'
picture come up rather slowly. and after ile-
tail is well out take the plate from the de-
veloper, rinse in clear water, and put it in a
stronger solution of developer till it has at-
tained the right density. Examine by hold-
ing to the light, and do not depend on the
image on the back of the plate as a guide
to density. If the picture lacks iu detail,
•add a few drops of bicarbonate of soda to
the developer; if lacking in density, a few
drops of solution of bromide of potassium
should be used.
Fog, which one would natnrallysuppo.se
would obscure or deaden the light, has in-
stead great illuminating power. Instan-
taneous pictures taken on a foggy day are
often the most beautiful of waterscapes.
A good rule when taking pictures at the
sea-shore is to use a small stop, and tlie,
quickest exposure of the shutter provided
with the hand camera.
Remember that the light, is more than
double the strength on the sea than on the
laud, and that the water reflects the light
instead of absorbing it.
SIR KNIGHT RAY.MONI> J. SrooNEH would like to
know how to mount prints on paper so that they will
lie smooth. He inteuds to use drawing-paper 8x10
for 4X5 prints and then have them bound. Make a
rather thin paste of laundry starch. Soak the prims
in water for a few minutes, and then lay them one by
one face down on Borne hard smooth surface, like a
pane of glass or the bottom of a porcelain toning-tray.
Blot each one as it is taken out o£ the water, remov-
ing all the superfluous moisture. Bave the sheet of
drawing-paper ready, and moisten the place where the
print is to be placed very slightly with a damp sponge.
Paste the back of the print, using only enough paste
to cover it, lift the corner with the point of a knife,
and lay it pasted side down on the mount. Lay a
piece of tissue-paper over the face of the mouut and
roll the print smooth with a squeegee. A smooth
glass bottle can be used if one has no squeegee, or a
new wooden rolling-pin answers every purpose. Lay
the print when mounted between two pieces of clean
blotting-paper and put a weight on it; as the prints
are mounted they can be laid one on top of the other
with blotting-paper between. Be very careful that no
paste is on the face of the print. The object iu moist-
ening the mount is that the print may not make it
shrink; drawing-paper, being lighter weight than a
card-mount, is apt to do this unless it is first moistened
as directed.
ANSWERS TO QDKRIKS.— Sin KNIGUT A. SMITU wishes
to know what will keep fllms from curling when in
the developer The films should he soaked in water
till they become limp before they are placed in the
developer. To keep them from curling after develop-
ment they should be placed before drying in a solution
of glycerine and water, composed of glycerine % oz.,
water S oz.
FALSE ECONOMY
is practised by people who buy inferior articles of
food. The Gail Borden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk
is the best infant food. Infant Health is the title of a
valuable pamphlet for mothers. Sent free by New
York Condensed Milk Co., New York.— [Atla.]
ADVERTISEMENTS.
Cortffeifcf
Co
"Autumn Styles"
Ladies' Golf Capes
In Great Variety.
Foreign and Domestic Makes.
(J
NEW YORK.
901
You See Them
Everywhere
Satisfaction and
Speed in
Columbia
Bicycles
The famous Hartford Single-Tube
Tires with which Columbia Bicycles
are equipped add much to the pleas-
ure Columbia riders have in bicy-
cling. Even the dreaded puncture
loses its terrors with Hartford
Single-Tube;;. Repaired in a min-
ute. Anyone can do it. Dunlop
tires, best of double tubes, if you
prefer.
POPE MFG. CO.
Stamps,
i nnn Mixed Foreign Postage Stamps, including
I UUU Fiji Islands, Samoa, Hawaii, HongKoug, for
34c. iu stamps ; 10 varieties D. S. Columbian si amps,
25c.; entire unused 5c. and lOc. Columbian Enve-
lopes, 25c. the pair. Only a limited number were is-
sued by U. S. Government. E. F. GAMES, Box 2G31,
San Francisco, Cal. Established, 1872.
100 all dif. Venezuela, Costa Rica, etc , only
10c.;200alldif.Hayti,IIawaii,etc.,<>nlyMic.
A g'l swantedat50perct.com. ListFREEI
I'.A.Stegman n,2722 EadsAv.,St.Louis, Mo.
100
all different, China, etc., 10c.; 5 Saxony, 10c.;
4ll Spain, 40c.; 6 Tunis, 14c.: 10 f. S. Rev-
enues, luc. Agts. wtd., 50£ com.; '95 list free.
CRITTENDEN & BORG MAN CO.. Detroit, Mich.
Good
Music
Franklin
Square
Song
Collection.
GOOD MUSIC arouses a spirit of good-will,
creates a harmonious atmosphere, and where
harmony and good-will prevail, the disobedient,
turbulent, unruly spirit finds no resting-place.
Herbert Spencer puts his final test of any plan of
culture in the form of a question, " Does it create
a pleasurable excitement in the pupils?11 Judged
by this criterion, Music deserves the first rank,
for no work done in the school room is so surely
creative of pleasure as singing. Do we not all
agree, then, that Vocal Music has power to bene-
fit every side of the child nature ? And in these
days, when we seek to make our schools the
arenas where children may grow into symmetri-
cal, substantial, noble characters, cm we afford
to neglect so powerful an aid as .Music ? Let us as
rather encourage it in every way possible.
Nowh • 'can von find for Home or S
a betU'r Srlt'cfion of S\>ngs ami Hymns than
in the Franklin Square Song Collection.
Sold Everywhere* Price, 50 cents; Clot1.
Full contents of the Several Numbers, witb
men Pa^es of favorite Soni^ it nil \\\ m
Harper ^& Brothers, New York, to any add: L
HARPEE'S BOUND TABLE
Mangoes and Bilberries in Jamaica.
All tbe mangoes are ripe now, and we get plenty
of them. There are about six kinds : the Number
Eleven, the Black, tbe Yam, the Kidney, and tbe
Ea-.t Indian. I like the Black best, though tbe Num-
ber Eleven is considered the choicest. The Black
mangoes are gray with black spots ou them ; the
Number Eleven are a bright orauge color; and tbe
Yarn mangoes are yellow and red, and might be
taken by strangers for huge peaches as they lie ou
the ground. The East Indian variety is big aiid
green, with black spots.
We also have bilberries. They are about the
color, shape, and size of our huckleberries, and
they taste about the same. We have them in the
morning fur breakfast. We also have coeoamus
on our place. When they are young the milk is
good to drink, aiid is very refreshing. Our cook
often makes soup of them, which is very rich in
flavor. At one time I saw our cook with her din-
ner on her bead. It consisted of baked plantain
and yam, and was smoking hot. She was walking
around the yard, taking off a bit of her dinner now
and then to eat it.
Coffee does not seem to grow well in this place,
judging from that which is here. It grows better
in higher regions. There is to be a " Sky Meeting "
at Up- Park-Camp on the 20th of July, given by the
EriL'IKh officers, it includes horse -racing, etc.
This place iu which we are now living is called
*' Garden House." The first mangoes in the island
were planted here, and all the others came from
them. There are sixteen acres of coffee. The peo-
ple prune their coffee after it has begun bearing.
I would like a few correspondents.
FRED HAWTHORNE.
GABDHN HoUBK, KINGSTON, JAMAICA.
Gold and Silver from Ores.
I visited a huge smeltery not long ago, and saw
how gold and silver were separated from their ores.
The lead ore, or galena, which contains also gold,
silver, and copper, is brought, from Utah. The av-
erage yield of silver of the ore used here is about
one hundred ounces to the ton. Tbe amount of
gold and silver in the ore is determined in the as-
saying-room in this manner:
A piece of the silver- bearing lead is carefully
weighed in a very delicate balance, and is then
placed in a little cup of bone ash, called a cupel.
Then the cupel is put into a very hot furnace so
arranged that a current of air passes over it. The
air oxidizes the melted base metals, but the gold
and silver are not affected. Tbe cupel has the re-
markable power of absorbing the oxides of metal,
and so in an hour or so there is nothing left in it
save a little bead of silver and gold. This bead is
then weighed, and in this way it is known what
proportion of gold and silver there is in the ore.
To extract the metals, the ore is mixed with
limestone and coal, and is thrown into a blast-fur-
nace, which resembles an inverted cone. A fire is
started in tbe bottom and a blast of air is forced
through tbe pipes into the furnace. When the
metal has been melted from the ore the furnace is
tapped at tbe bottom, and the metal, consisting of
gold, silver, copper, and lead, runs out into large
pots. It is then run into moulds. This metal is
called " bullion."
The next process is to separate the lead from the
other metals. The bullion is melted in a large deep
basin and molten zinc is added. The zinc forms
an alloy with the gold, silver, and copper, which is
lighter than the lead, and therefore floats on the
surface. Then this alloy is skimmed off and taken
to another part of the works, where it is placed in
furnace's and the zinc burned out. After all the
zinc has been gotten rid of the metal is taken to a
large room which contains a row of small furnaces.
Inside of these furnaces are shallow cupels over
whirh a current of air passes. After tbe metal has
been melted in these cupels it is run out into
moulds, which shape the metal into plates about
twenty inches long and ten in width.
The metal of these plates consists of gold and
silver, which still have to be separated. The plates
are hung iu gauze bags and pfct in strong nitric
acid. This acid dissolves the silver, but does not
affect the gold, which drops down into tbe bags
and is caught there. About three inches distant
from the sack containing the gold and silver plate
is a very thin plate of silver. This plate and the
one in tbe sack are connected to a dynamo. The
current of electricity causes the dissolved silver to
deposit itself on the plate. After all the silver has
been collected it is cast into blocks weighing one
thousand ounces each. The gold is likewise cast
into blocks.
I saw about $100,000 worth of silver in tbe vaults
and in the works. There are other methods of
separating these metals, but I think this is the
most common way. Some ores are more easily
worked than others.
PITTBBUBO, PA. HOMER L. STEWART, R.T.F.
The Lyre-Bird.
The lyre-bird is a very beautiful bird, and is to be
found iu the eastern part of Australia. The form
and structure of the tail resemble an ancient
Grecian lyre, hence its name. The size of this bird
is about that of the common hen, the eyes are dark
hazel, large, mild iu expression, and very beautiful.
The wings are short aud hollow, rendering great
assistance when running, but of little use in flying.
The bird's running powers are extraordinary,
and it is not easily overtaken. The legs are rather
long, the color of the body is reddish-brown, aud
ii- gi'iieral appearance is very graceful. It is of a
gentle disposition and altogether harmless. The
lyre-bird will soon be lost to us forever. The tail
feathers were formerly sold iu Sydney at a low
price, but now that the beautiful creatures are
nearly exterminated the price has risen exceeding-
ly. CARRIE WELLENBROCK, R.T.L.
* » *
Prizes for Poems.
Three prizes of $5, $4. $3 each are offered by
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE for the best short poems.
Any subject allowed. Limited to five stanzas; the
best to be printed in the ROUND TABLE. Competi-
tion open to all members of the Order. Forward
not later than December 1, 1895.
A Special Offer.
Teachers, students, superintendents of Sunday-
schools, ladies, members of the Round Table, and
others willing to distribute ten to seventy - five
Prospectuses and personally commend HARPER'S
ROUND TABLE, will receive, according to number
of Prospectuses distributed, bound volumes of
HARPER'S YOUNO PEOPLE for 1893, gold badges of
the Round Table Order, packet of fifty engraved
visiting-cards, bearing their name, with copper
plate for future use, rubber stamp bearing their
name and address, nickel pencil resembling a com-
mon nail, or silver badge of the Round Table Order.
This offer is restricted to one person in a town or
neighborhood. In applying, state how many cir-
culars you can place in the hands of those sure to
be interested in them, what are your facilities for
distributing them, and what prize you seek.
In Aid of the Fund.
At " Pine Top," on tbe afternoon and evening of
September 21st, there is to be a lawn festival and
sale in aid of the Good Will School Fund. Pine
Top is at 162d Street and Edgecombe Road, in the
upper part of New York city, and the festival is
under tbe auspices of the Misses Scbrenkeisen,
Dey, and Hubert. Tbe admission is ten and five
cents, and all are invited.
Saving on Age.
Thrift is an admirable trait. Tbe way to acquire
it is to cultivate it. The way to cultivate it is to
deny yourself, and faithfully lay by the money you
were tempted to spend. Of course you do not lay
the money by for the sake of having it to spend
later on. People save money for the money, it is
true. This is right because it is provident. One
might fall ill, and if he had no money saved up he
might become a burden upon those illy able to sup-
port him.
But tbe best thing about the habit of saving is
the habit itself. Having the habit well fixed iu
902
one's character renders one self-controllable— in
other words, thrifty. Thrift applies to more things
than money-saving, for the man who saves money
begins to save other things. Waste is wrong— a
sin.
Did you ever know one to save on his age — that
is, to lay by as many dimes or dollars each year as
he is years old? Suppose you are fourteen. Dur-
ing that year you save $14, and with it buy a cer-
tificate of deposit, a share of stock, or something
that is complete iu itself— a bond that represents
your age that year. Next year you are fifteen, and
you buy a $15 bond. Or, if you cannot save as
many dollars as you are years old, try saving as
many half-dollars or dimes. Keep your money in
your own name, not in the name of somebody else
who happens to have a bank-book when you do
not, and draw it out only when you are very sure
you need it. Get your age bond first, and your
luxury afterward.
If you begin at fourteen, a dollar for each year,
you will have at twenty-one seven bonds, repre-
senting $119. You will also have some interest
money. But you will have much more, namely,
the hatil of saving— systematic economy, which is
an education of itself, and one which, if necessary
to gain, you could well afford to throw away the
$119 that you saved.
"Cbe
Some kind friends in St Louis put a lemonade
stand on Delaware Boulevard the other day, and
as a result sent $1 50 to us for the School Fund.
Two readers living in West Grotou, Mass., took up
a ten-cent collection among their acquaintances,
and remitted $1. The William D. Moffat Chapter,
of Oakland, Md., exhibited some rare manuscripts
which a friend loaned them, and sent us $10.
The letter of Mr. Muuroe was cordially received
by the Order, and everybody praised the idea that
each member be represented, so that the building
would stand as a monument to the chivalry of the
whole Order. Since the last report the following
sums have reached us: Roderick and William J.
Beebe, $2. William D. Moffat Chapter, Oakland,
Md., $10. Lucy L. Verrill, $1. H. E. Banning, 40
cents. Rosaline and Edith dine, SO cents. E. J.
and F. G., 20 cents. Carrie Wellenbrock, $1. Otto
Prussack, 5 cents. Dorothy and Piueo, 5 cents.
M. C. Haldeman, 25 cents. Myra F. Chapiu. 10
cents. Carroll D. Murphy, 10 cents. Harold W.
Bynnrr, 10 cents. Gerard Stafford King, 10 cents.
Two devoted readers, $1. Anna E. Sibley, 26 cents.
Carolyn G. Thome, 50 cents. Ernestine Pattisou,
$2 50 Amy, D. A., and W. H. Bowman, Maud Hin-
gen, Marie and Morris Sadler. Jun., $1 50. Kather-
ine A. Waller, 25 cents.
These sums come from every part of the country,
showing a wide interest. The Little Women Chap-
ter, of Upper Nyack, N. Y., Sophie Moeller, presi-
dent, is to hold a fair, and wants contributions;
tbe members of the Order residing in Washington,
D. C., and in Cincinnati. O.. respectively are to have
entertainments; and Mr. Kirk Munroe is to give
in New York city, in November, a reading from his
own books. Washington members may send word
to Elizabeth W. Hyde, 1418 Euclid Place, N. W.. and
Cincinnati members to tbe Robert Louis Stevt-nsnii
Chapter, J H. Bates, Juu., 503 East Third Stivei.
«.(MI|> \1 ll.l M I b I
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL F f N II
il"' . ' '
1 Jim
Contributor
r, t'/i! '"f.i^s
If you use this Good Will Mite, Biin]ily pin il to your letter,
in ..nl,.r Hint il may be detached for tiling. If the amount is
Sh'en by more than one contributor, add blanks for then names.
but attach the aiided sheet lirnih t.. tlf Mitr, that il HK,\ m.t
become detached and lost. Include a iriven name in each case,
and write plainly, to avoid errors on tile Honor Roll.
HARPEE'S ROUND TABLE
s> Ikinfes. ©
No. 98.— ENIGMA.
38, 21, 44, 20, 7, 35, IS.-To justify.
29, 41, 5, 14, 33.— To err.
27, 31, 43, 15, 36.— A judgment.
«. 19, 47, SB, 34, 40, 11, 30.— A mechanical bold.
32. 6, 46. 26. 34.— A kind of flax
36, 18, 28, 45, 23.— Suspense.
17, 1, 22, 24, 10, 8.— A near relative.
9, 39, 35, 2, 25, 36.— Accustomed.
3, 46, 37, 24, 13, 4, 33.— Course of life.
The whole a verse of Scripture in the Old Testa-
ment. ALBEHT.
No. 99.— RIDDLES.
Animal, nor vegetable.
Nor mineral am I ;
A natural product, I exist
From two to six feet high.
I am not she, I am not lie,
But just, between the two;
You'll often see me take my place,
And sometimes hear me too.
I have no breadth, I have n<i length,
I'm neither thin nor thick,
I'm used to show a faithful love,
And mark a traitor's trick.
I'm mentioned oft in Ilnly Writ,
Both in the Old and New,
And strongly recommended there
liy holy men and true.
No. 100
Born in the fields as free as air.
Then early torn from home,
And in the mansions of the (treat,
A slave I'm forced to roam.
From room to room I wander there,
But never go alone,
I'm always taken by the hand.
Until my task is done.
Although the badge of royal race,
I'm found with mean and poor.
And oft, \viih them, I hide my face
Behind the kitchen door.
No. 101.
I'm insignificant and small.
But still my power is great;
Before a barrier stout and strong
Both force and strength may tarry long,
Until I come at call.
When with ;i gentle touch I do
What all their might could not get through.
Answers to Kinks.
No. 95.
1. Mourning-bride. 2. Weeds. 3. Bleeding-heart.
4. Sweet- \Villiiim. 5. Rose. 6. Four-o'clock. 7.
Phlox. 8. Stuck. 9. Corn. 10. Box. 11. Lmlv's-
slippers. 12. Hop. 13. Fox-gloves. 14. Monk-
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18. Old-mini. 19 Sage. 20. Sweet-pease. 21 Ky«-
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25. Matrimony.
No. 96.
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No. 97.
Longfellow .— 1. Melha. 2 Hanover. 3. Trenton.
4. Niagara. 5 Buffalo. 6. Cleveland. 7. Holland.
8. Willard. 9. Scott. 10. Lewis.
One cau be genteel and neat,
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IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL SCHEME, BUT THE OLD LADY WAS ONTO THEIK GAME.
POOR Jimmie lisped, and his teacher entirely misunder-
stood his meaning when he said, in answer to her command
to conjugate the verb sink, " think, thank, thinking, thnuk.''
BOBBY. " I don't like a bicycle built for two."
JACK. "You don't! why?"'
BOBBY. " Because it encourages back talk."
THE OBLIGING BEAK.
A lIoxKY-LOVixG grizzly-bear,
In a great bee-tree made his lair ;
"There is a law," he told the bees,
"That honey sha'n't be kept in trees.
" I'll take it out for you," said he.
"Nay, nay, sir," cries the old queen bee,
"Take yourself off!" and then and there
The stinging bees fell on the bear.
HE WANTS TO KNOW.
TOMMY TRADDLES. " Papa, you call that little bit of a
tiny wee engine a donkey-engine, don't you?"
MR. TRADDLES. " Yes, my boy."
TOMMY. "Well, papa, won't that donkey-engine have to
grow a great deal bigger before it can have any horse-
power f"
•
"PAPA, I've got some mending for you to do. My roller-
skates are broken."
" Well, put them away till morning. It's too late to mend
anything now."
"Why! you said this morning that it was never too late
to mend."
BECKY WOOD.
BAREFOOT, pit-a-pat, pious, poor, and good,
Walking to the Meeting-House was little Becky Wood.
Up rode great William Penu : "Little girl," quoth In-.
"Jump upon my palfrey here and ride along with me."
Trot, trot, canter, canter, all along the street,
William Peuu took Becky Wood with her bare brown feet,
Trot, trot, canter, canter, to the very door.
Never was a barefoot girl quite so proud before.
A BLUNDER AND NO MISTAKE.
JABEZ (slapping Ichabod OH the back). " Hello Tony !"
ICHABOD (u-liiciiig). "But I'm not Tony."
JABKZ (discovering liis error). "Oh, I beg pardon. I
thought you were another fellow."
ICHABOD. "And so I am."
IT SEEMS SO.
"PAPA, "said Harry, " when a boy keeps on doing some-
thing wrong of his own accord he's wilful, isn't he f"
" Yes," said Mr. Rigid.
"Thfii if he doesn't do nothing of nobody else's accord,
he's woutful, isn't he f '
THK following extracts are from examination papers
recently handed in :it a public school in Connecticut :
1. From what animals do we get milk f From the camel
and the milkman.
2. The hen is covered with feathers. With what is the
cat covered? The cat is covered with fleas.
3. Name an animal that has four legs and a long tail.
A mosquito.
4. Name two kinds of nuts. Peanuts and for-get-me-
rjuts.
904
HARPERS
UNO TABLE
n
Copyright, 1895, by HARPBB & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEKKLY.
VOL- XVI- — NO. 828,
NEW YORK, TUESDAY. SEPTEMBER 10, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A TEAR.
HOW REDDY GAINED HIS COMMISSION.
BY CAPTAIN CHARLES A. CURTIS, U.S.A.
Part fi.
GUARD-MOUNTING was over. The commanding officer
in the Adjutant's office was occupied with tlie daily
routine business of a frontier post. At tables near him sat
the Post- Adjutant, the acting Sergeant-Major, and a soldier
clerk, writing and making up the semi- weekly mail for the
post-office beyond the neighboring river.
Upon a bench outside the door, serving his tour as office
orderly, lounged a boy musician. He leaned listlessly
against the wall of the building, apparently oblivious to
the grandeur of the views around him. To the south,
across an undulating plain, seventy miles away, were the
twin Spanish Peaks. To the west, the Cuerno Vnde range
let itself down to the plain by a succession of lesser elevs
tions, terminating in rounded foot-hills, forty miles distant.
Eighty miles to the northwest the forest and granite clad
form of Pikes Peak towered in majesty.
The fort was occupied by a troop of cavalry and a com
pany of infantry, the Captain of the infantry being in com-
mand. This officer was now attaching bis signature t
various military documents. When the last paper
signed the young orderly entered, and, standing at "att<
tiou " before the Captain, said,
" Sir, my mother would like to speak to the comman
"Very well, Maloney ; take these papers to the quarter-
master and the surgeon, and tell your mother to come in."
The orderly departed, anil soon aftrr a ruddy-faced and
substantial-featured daughter of Erin entered, ber >lrr\ rs
rolled above her elbows, and her vigorous hand.-. sh.. «inn
the soft, moist, and wrinkled appraranre that indicates
recent and long-continued contact with the contents of the
wash-tub. Dropping a courtesy, sin- said,
•• < 'an the commanding officer spare me a fe\\ minutes of
his toime .'"
- With pleasure. Sergeant-Ma.]. .1. plan- a chair for Mrs.
Maloney," said Captain Bartlett.
" Oi want to spake a wiu-md about me b'y '[V.I.I
"What is it about your son .' I'ors he need disciplin-
ing ?v
Seating li.-i-.rir upon the edge of the proffered chair, the
Irish woman clasped her moist hands in her hip. and said,
•• Small doubt but he nades dis.'i/diniug. Captain : but it
is of the great danger to his loife in .•arryin' tli' mail oi
want t' spake."
"A mother's nervous fear, perhaps. 11. cellent
horseman. Von are not afraid he will be thro
"Oh, not at ahl. at alii. sor. He sfhick* to the mm
[oike a bur-r-r. I bi inckiu' bast.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
It's that roarin' river oi'm afeared of. The min at the hny-
camp, whose business it is to row the mail acrass the strame,
let Teddy and Eeddy do it, do ye know, sor, and oi fear in
the prisint stage of the wathcr. ami the dispisition of the
h'\s to be larkin' in the boat, they'll overset it, and be
dhrowned."
" Arc you quite sure the hoys use the boat ?" asked the
Captain.
•• I \ 'ry mail-day for the last two wakes, sor."
"And you really think them iu danger, Mrs. Maloney ?
I am sure they both swim."
"That's jist it, sor! They're not contint to ro\v quiately
over loike min, but they must thry all sorts of antics with
th' boat. 'Rowin' aich other round' is one of 'em. Whin
oi spake about it they says they can swim. Small chance
aven a good swimmer would have in that roariu' river, with
its ijuicksands, its snags, and its bars."
" Well, I will order the hay-camp detail to do the boat-
ing hereafter, Mrs. Maloney ; so you need have no further
anxiety ."
"Thank you, sor. It's no liss than oi expicted from a
koindly and considerate gintlenian loike th' Captain. Oi
hope you'll overlook a mother's anxiety and worrimint
over her only b'y. It's not mesilf would be interfarin' with
the commanding officer's duties, but oi kuowed that you
niver mint for Beddy and Teddy to be rowin' that bit of a
skift, whin it belonged to the miu at the hay-camp to do
the same. Good-day, sor, and many thanks for your kind-
ness, Captain." And with much ceremonious leave-taking
the laundress backed out of the office and hurried back to
her tubs.
"Mr. Dayton," said the commanding officer, "write Cor-
poral Dutfey to hereafter allow no person not .'c member of
his party to row the mail-boat across the river, unless he
brings authority from this office."
" 'i is, sir."
The letter had been written and sealed when Teddy re-
turned, having changed the full-dress coat and helmet of
guard-mounting for a blouse, forage-cap, and leather leg-
gings. Nearly an hour before his drum had rattled an
exhilarating accompaniment to the fife, as the guard of
twelve privates' and three non - commissioned officers
marched in review and turned oil to the guard-bouse. Now
he stood at the door with spurred heels and gauntleted
hands, ready to receive the mail-pouch and ride his little
zebra-marked mule to the crossing, two miles from the fort.
The Sergeant-Major handed him the pouch and the letter
addressed to the corporal, with this injunction:
"Von are to deliver this letter to Corporal Dnffey at
the hay-camp, and he will give you some instructions which
you are to carefully obey."
Slinging the pouch over his shoulder, and tucking the
letter under his waist-belt, the boy went to his mnle behind
the office, mounted, and rode away. Passing the quarter-
master's corral, another boy, similarly attired, and mounted
on a piebald mustang, dashed out with a whoop, and the
two went cantering down the slope to the meadow be-
low.
Arriving side by side at a soapweed which marked the
southern limit of the river-bottom, the boys put their beasts
to the height of their speed, and rode for a dead cotton-
wood which raised its bleached and barkless branches be-
side the road three hundred yards beyond.
This stretch was raced over every mail-day, with varying
victory for horse and mule. To-day the mule reached the
tree half a length ahead, and Teddy was consequently iu
high glee.
"Ah, Eeddy, my boy!" he shouted. " Eight times to your
six! Better swap that pony for a inule, if you want to
stand any chance with Puss!"
"Pshaw! You were nearly a length ahead when we
readied the soapweed, and I almost made it up. Brouc can
beat Puss any time when they start even."
"I should say so!" with great disdain. "How about
I hat day when you got oft' a length and a half ahead, and I
led yon half a neck at the cottonwool .'"
•• Vou mean the day Bronc got a stone iu his shoe ? Of
course he couldn't run then."
The two young soldiers rode on at an easy canter, warmly
disputing, for the hundredth time, over the merits of their
well -matched animals.
Redmond Carter was the fifer, as Edward Maloney was
the drummer, of the infantry company. The latter, the son
of a laundress, was a graceful and soldierly hoy, dark-com-
plexioned, with black eyes and hair, who bestrode his mule
with easy confidence, riding like a Cossack. The other
boy, a blond-haired, blue-eyed lad of the same age, quite as
tall, but more delicately built, showed less reckless activity
in the saddle, but he was a fine and graceful equestrian
nevertheless. He had enlisted a year before, in Philadel-
phia, naming that city as his residence; but certain pe-
culiarities of speech led Captain Bartlett to believe him a
New-Englauder. He used better language than his fellows,
and it seemed he had received good school advantages be-
fore entering the army.
For instance, one day when it was Carter's turn to be
office orderly, while sitting at the door he overheard Cap-
tain Bartlett, who was writing a private letter, ask the
Adjutant, " How does that Latin quotation run, Dayton —
' Timeo Ilitnit/is ct dona ferentes,' or ' Dunaos iimeo ft cluiia
ferenies?'"
"Blest if I know We don't waste time on dead lan-
guages at the Point, as you college men do. I can give you
the equation of a parabola if you want it."
Captain Bartlett did not ask for the equation, or explain,
his reason for wanting the proper order of the Latin sen-
tence, but, the morning's office work concluded, and the
orderly having departed, as he and the Adjutant were
passing out of the doorway the latter noticed a leaf of a
memorandum-pad lodged against the leg of the bench just
vacated. A drawing on its surface attracting his atten-
tion, lie picked it np. It was a very creditable sketch of a
huge wooden horse standing within the wall of an ancient
city, and a party of Grecian soldiers in the act of descend-
ing by a ladder from an opening in its side. Beneath tin-
drawing \\ as written " tjitirqiiid id cut, time/) Utiiiiiox rt ilniiii
fi'rciites.—JEaehl, II., 4'J."
" Here, Captain," said Mr. Dayton, handing the paper to
the post commander; "here's the answer to your ques-
tion."
"What — that boy Carter? How does a boy like that
come to be a musician in the army?"
"Can't tell. Probably for the same reason that an occa-
sional graduate of a foreign university turns up in the
ranks — hard times and want in civil life, and plenty of
clothing and food in military life."
"He is indeed a bright boy, and I have noticed a certain
refinement of manner and precision of speech not common
to men in the ranks. 1 must inquire about him."
The two "music boys," Teddy and Eeddy, were fast
friends and constant companions. They made common
cause in all quarrels and disputes, and to ill-treat one was
to ill-treat both. Teddy was frequently in trouble, and his
friend often pleaded for him at headquarters. Indeed, the
Adjutant frequently declared that "but for that rampage-
ous young Celt, Carter would never be in trouble." He
was quiet by nature, and punctilious iu the observance of
the most exacting requirements of discipline j while Teddy,
through carelessness, was now and then subjected to pun-
ishment. Mrs. Malouey, while bestowing a tender mother's
love upon her darling son, entertained a kindly regard miu-
gled with great respect for his friend, and looked after
Reddy's clothing and belongings quite as carefully as after
Teddy's.
Eeddy divided the duty of mail-carrier and office orderly
with his fellow-musician, yet it rarely happened that one
rode without the other's company. An indulgent corral-
master had obtained the consent of the quartermaster to
allow two '-surplus animals" to be used exclusively by the
boys, provided they would take care of them.
On reaching the river the boys drew up before two
tents pitched in a small grove of cottonwoods upon the
Brassy hank, and occupied by a corporal and three privates,
whose duty it was to keep the cattle of the neighboring
ranchmen from trespassing upon the meadows of the mil-
itary reservation.
906
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
The lads dismounted, Teddy going to the corporal's tent
to deliver the Adjutant's letter. But the corporal was not
in, having gone with two of his men to drive some cattle
olll of (lie bottom.
" I will take the letter to Corporal Duffcy, Ted," said Ucd-
moml, " while you row over with the mail-bag. Row well
up .-i ream before you attempt to cross, so as not to get
sucked into the rapids."
" All right," replied the orderly ; " and when I come back
we'll sec which can row the other round."
"That's already settled. I rowed you round the last
two times," said Reddy.
'• Yes; one day when my wrist was lame, and the other
when I had cut my thumb."
" Anything ail you to-day ?"
" I believe not."
''Then we will try it again ; and be sure if I row yon
round, yon are not to lay your defeat to sprains, cuts, or
rheumatism."
Redmond remounted his pony and started into the
meadow, while Teddy, having picketed his mule, stepped
into a neat wherry tied to the bank. He was not. uncon-
scious that he was disobeying orders, for his mot her had
told him the result of her interview with the commanding
ofiieer: but the order was not officially published, and he
wanted to have one last pull on the river.
It was in July, the season of freshets in streams having
their sources in the Rocky Mountains, when tlie wanner
the weather the faster the snows melt and the deeper ami
more rapid the stream. The silt -laden current swept
swiftly down the middle stream, swelling into rolling
waves, which caught the soldier hoy's oars as the boat rose
on their crests and sank in their troughs.
li'eaching the other side, he carried the mail -punch to
the overland stage station, and returned to the boat. Re-
peating the precaution of rowing up stream before ventur-
ing to cross, he arrived at the tents just as Reddy returned
from an unsuccessful search for the corporal.
The Adjutant's letter was left in the tent, Bronc picketed.
and the boy.-, drew lots for the oars. Teddy won the
choice, ami selected the bow. The contest was to maintain
an even-time stroke, and see which could turn the boat
toward his opponent — " pnll him round," as the phrase
is.
Bare loo ted, barelegged, bareheaded, and coatless, the boys
stepped into the boat. Confident in their united strength,
they did not row up the eddy, but pulled directly from the
shore, beginning the struggle from the start. The wherry
leaped ahead, refusing to turn to the right or left. The
boys were evidently as well matched as their mounts, Puss
and Brouc.
The boat rose and fell in the current waves, and the oars
tripped and splashed in the roily crests, until there sud-
denly came a sharp snap, and Teddy fell backward, hold-
ing aloft the bladeless half of an oar. Reddy ceased row-
ing; the skiff lost headway and floated down the river.
In the confusion of the accident neither boy saw a threat-
ening danger. In the middle of the river was the trunk of
a dead cotton wood, standing at an angle of forty-live de-
grees, its roots firmly anchored to the bottom. The boat
il.iateil against the snag, striking amidships. Its starboard
side rose, its port side lowered, the water poured over the
gunwale, and in an instant Teddy was clinging to the trunk,
and Reddy swimming in the boiling current. The boat
hung for a moment, as if uudecided whether to drop to the
right or left of the snag, twisting and struggling in the
Berce tide, and at last slid off astern and floated away
down-stream.
A foot above the water was a large knot and a swell in
the trunk of the tree. Teddy climbed above this, and sat
astride of il, clasping the trunk in his arms. He was at
Brsl in, dined to treat the accident with bravado, and he
waved a hand above bis head and shouted; but the sight
of l.vddy lloaling towards the rapids froze his utterance
anil pnralvzcd his arm.
It was plainly impossible for his comrade to swim to the
shore— he was too near the dangerous fall— but he hoped
he might reach the jam in the middle of it.-, crest
AT THE SKA-SIDE.
a Suggestion for n Summer Entertainment.
BY CAROLINE A. rREEVEY AND M \ l;<;.\ I;KT K. SANOSTER.
I'llARACTERS:
CHARLOTTE HmVAl-.i.. loner K\KRTIIN.
Vu:T"i:[A MAM.N HKI.KN SA^KKS.
Il>,\ MOC.KK. Mr-v S..vi MI 1:1 IRI.II.
OLIVE BRANDON. i
MADOK FULLER CAPTAIN JAKE.
SCENE. — A miniiiu/r-liodse n» the l><n<l>, in I'm,,/ ,,/ II,, .!/„//,..
wan Hotel.
OCCASION. — A relii-tirxiil for it n i n I, rlnni m-'iit I,, I,, i/in-n in
the hotel parlors for Hit- him Hi <;/' iln- N<«-.MI/, Home.
PHESENT.— Charlotte, Victoria, Ida, Olive, Gi:n .-.
I'iiinriit. What a perfectly glorious afternoon, girls!
The sunshine is dazzling. The surf is music itself; tin-
sails out yonder are so white; and the- air! I canno
breathe it into my lungs deep enough. There's no place
like the sea-side after all.
Chnrlnttf. Mamma is begging papa to take her to the
mountains.
Ida. Oh, what a shame! Just as we are getting so well
acquainted, and can plan so many nice things to do. It
would be wicked for you to leave us.
Victoria. Have you met that new arrival, Miss I>ais\
James? She's English, you know. She talks about her
boxes, not trunks.
Olive. She has luggage, not baggage.
Iiln. Yes, I was talking to her. She's funny. She says
there isn't any Gulf Stream. Says the Captain of her steamer
has sailed for thirty years, and has never seen it. So, if
you please, the Gulf Stream "is a myth."
Grace She's the most disdainful thing, and uses such
queer words! She says raw clams are "nasty." and she
called bananas "those beans.''
OUre. Perhaps she will improve on acquaintance. We
mustn't be too hard on her.
I'li/n-Iotte. Where are all the girls? We ought to begin
our rehearsal.
I'ietoria. There's Madge Fuller now. She has that sweet-
looking young lady who played so beautifully with her.
Enter Madge Fuller and Miss Sommerrield.
JI/OT/</f. Halloa, girls! Am I late? I was reading, and I
almost forgot our rehearsal. But I have brought :i n
recruit. Miss Sommerfield, girls. Miss Howard, Miss M;
son, Miss Moore, Miss Brandon, and Miss Everton.
Grace. Otherwise Charlotte, Victoria or Vic, Ida, Olive,
and myself, Grace. No airs. Madge.
Olire. We are so glad you asked Miss Sommerfield to
help us, Madge dear.
Mi** XuiiiiiH'rJii'lil. I will help, but don't let me intrude
What are your ideas of an entertainment .'
llnirr. Ideas are just what we are after. The only set-
tled thing is that the tickets are to be fifty cents.
c/iiirliitlf. We thought we would each recite or read
something. Original preferred. The object is the Sea-side
Home.
Miss Sommerficld. It is a lovely object. I went all over
the one on Seney Island.
Virtoria. Oh. then yon can tell us about it.
Mixx Siiinnnrtii'lil. They take sick children and babj.
two weeks. The house is large and clean, and quite near
the water. Verandas go around three sides on evcr\
All the bedrooms open on to these verandas, and there, in
the open air, the babies are \\ heeled, or rocked, or swung in
hammocks. So they breathe that invigorating air day and
niii'lit. The older children, as soon as they are aide, die n
the sand, sheltered by tents. They ha\e plenty of •_: I
milk to drink, bread and hi si1 nit. oatmeal and unit I on broth.
The mothers have, in addition, meat, potatoes, tea. and
coffee. The babies pick up surprisingly. They L" av, ,.\
rosy and hearty. Many a life is saved
nlii-i'. What a pity they must go aua\.
Charlotte. Well, a fortniulit is better than nothing. Isn't
it the sweetest of charities ' 1 am sure everybody in the,
hotel will f e h. our entertainment.
M]XH SoHinii-rtiflii. 1 heard one of the nurses sinj
laby while rocking some darling twin bahic* to sleep.
907
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
thought it so pretty I have remembered it. Would you like
to hear it ?
All. Please do. Yes, indeed.
[Miss Sommerfielil repeats lullaliy.
By-by, babies, hushaby,
Night and sleep are drawing nigh,
Little birdies seek the nest,
Tired lambkins drop to rest,
By-by, babies, hushaby,
Stars are lighting up the sky,
Angels come to watch your beds ;
Slumber, little curly-heads.
Enter Heleu Sayres and Daisy James.
Helen. Good-afternoon, girls. I am awfully late, but I
met Miss James and got talking to her, and didn't realize
how time was passing. Miss James, young ladies.
[All nod rattier stiffly. Miss Sommerfield extends her
hand, and Miss James touches it with the tijis of her
fingers.
Miss James. So happy, I am sure. I was quite by me-
self, do you know, and Miss Sayres kindly spoke to me.
Do you not find it rather lonely here ?
Olire. Oh, not at all.
Victoria. It's simply perfect. We all know each other,
and how could we be lonely?
Miss James. You all know each other? Just fancy! A
party of girls travelling together. How very odd !
Olire. No, Miss James, we have made each other's ac-
quaintance since we came here. But American girls get
acquainted easily.
Miss James. Only fancy that, now! It is truly a demo-
cratic country. In England, you know, at the watering-
places, I stay with mamma a whole season, and we never
speak to strangers. Mamma is very particular.
Madge. Well, Miss James, to make you feel easier about
us, we will give you references.
Miss James. I dare say you :ire all right. But in Eng-
land it is so different, so much more established, you know.
This is the land of the people.
Grace. Have you been to Chicago ?
Miss James. No ; but we are going there, of course.
Grace. Chicago is tine, when you get there; but it's dan-
gerous travelling. Great herds of buffalo wander on the
plains, and bands of Indians lie in ambush for the trains.
Miss James. Only fancy ! How do the trains ever pass ?
Grace. It all depends on your engineer. If he under-
stands his business, he shoots at lightning speed through
Indians and buffaloes. But you can't feel quite safe till
you get there.
Miss James. I must tell mamma of this. I am sure she
will not go.
Miss Sommerfield. We should go on with our prepara-
tions, girls. Has anybody a suggestion to make?
Helen. I have an idea. We have among the hotel guests
a fine pianist. Perhaps he would play for us.
Grace. You mean that gloomy-looking man with such a
name?
Olire. With a long mustache, and eyes with white in
them?
Helen. Speak of him respectfully. He plays like an.
angel.
Victoria. What's his name ?
Helen. Stradelerewsky.
Charlotte. Oh, horrors! Say it again slowly.
Helen. Strad-e- (think of the Stradivarius fiddle) le-rewsky
(think of PaderewiTcy). Now, say it altogether.
All. Strad-e-le-rew-sky.
Charlotte. That name alone on the programme would be
worth the price of admission.
Victoria. Well, who's going to bell the cat?
.)/;»* -.lames. Beg your pardon ? What cat ?
Grace. She means who is going to ask that scowling
ever-with-a-cigar-in-his-mouth musician to play for us.
.l/;*s James. I prefer not to. I have uot been introduced,
and mamma —
Grace. Will you, Miss Sommerfield?
Miss Sommerfield. Oh yes, I have been introduced.
Grace. Is he French?
Victoria. No ; unmistakably Italian.
Hi li ii. Or Polish, or Russian, or some sort of a Slav.
Miss Sommerfield. Russian, I think. He speaks English
and French.
Ida. Did you talk French with him?
Miss Sommerfield. Yes.
Ida. I wish I could speak French. I can't even conjugate
avoir.
Miss James. It is easy:/«i, tit es, il —
Ida. Oh, please, Miss Sommerfield, go now, there's a dear,
and speak English, so that you can report what he says.
Miss Sommerfield. All right. I go. There's no time
like the present. [Exit.
Grace. Madge, she's a darling.
Madge. I knew you would like her.
Charlotte. Girls, let's go on with our rehearsal. Has any
one found a poem, or written one, for this occasion ?
Olire.. I have found a dainty thing on sea-weeds. Will
you hear it ?
Madije. Please, dear.
Olire (reads) :
The violet gems the forest,
The daisy stars the field,
And every wayside bank and brook
Their fragrant treasures yield.
Oh, sweet the air of summer,
With thoughts of God in flowers!
For bloom and beauty hand in hand
Walk down the passing hours.
But naught, dear child, is fairer,
Nor lovelier tinting shows,
Than those fair things which cradled are
Where oft the storm-wind blows.
The sea-weed's hues are rarer
Than painter's art can trace;
And only fairy looms can weave
The sea-weed's floating lace.
. Helen. Why, Olive, that's just sweet. Where did you find
it?
Olire. In my mother's day-book. Mother writes a poem
now and then, and locks it up in her drawer. She says it
isn't good enough to publish.
Victoria. It is good enough. The magazines print a lot
of things not so good as that.
Olire. Thank you.
Victoria. Girls, do you want anything funny? My bro-
ther Charlie dashed off some rollicking lines for me last
night.
Charlotte. Oh yes. Let's have something funny.
Victoria. It's arrant nonsense.
Mad <ie :
"A little nonsense now and then,"
Said good old Dr. Lee,
"Is relished by the best of men.
That's just the case with me."
The doctor was jumping a rope when he said that.
Victoria, (readx) :
ODE TO A CLAM.
Oh ! clam at high-water,
Here's somebody's daughter
A sighing and crying your measure to take ;
She cares for you only,
Poor bivalve so lonely,
Because you are good in a Yankee clambake.
Perhaps she'll shout louder
To see you in chowder.
Poor clam, for your sake
I've a dreadful heart-ache.
Charlotte. Capital. We wouldn't miss that for anything.
Who else is ready ?
Ida. I have a little poem about a shell. [Itcud*.
What is the song you are singing forever,
8;ul as the sound of a knell,
Deep as the tone of a bell,
Oh ! sorrowful, murmuring shell,
Singing and singing forever?
(Iraee. Mine is about sweet charity.
[Beads.
908
"WAAL. ONE NIGHT I WAR ON DECK ALONE."
Of all things touched with heavenly clarity,
There's nothing can compare with sweet, sweet charitv!
Charlotte. Girls, we ought to have some singing. Do you
know that old tune, " Home Again " f Why not sing that? It
will please the older ones, and seem a compliment to them.
It might do for the last thing on the programme.
Ida. That's beautiful.
Mm/, /i. .Sing the tune, Charlotte, aud let me catch the
rhythm. [Charlotte and the others sing.
Home again, home again,
From a foreign shore ;
And, oh ! it fills my soul with jov
To see my friends once more.
Enter Miss Soiumerlield.
All. Oh, Miss Sommerh'eld! Did you see him f Will he?
What did he say ? Did he hypnotize you ?
Mian Siiuniierfti'ln. One at a time, youug ladies. Let me
tell my story, please. I found this wonderful mau just
where I hail left him. I said, "Professor." He started,
kicked over a chair, threw away his cigarette, stared at me,
and said, " Pardon, niees, I was so rude." "Not at all, Pro-
fessor," I said ; " I am sorry to interrupt your reading." " I
am most happy to be interrupted by a so charmaut a young
lady." IIB said, gallantly.
G-race. That was uice in him.
Minx Xuiiiinerjield. So then I told him about you and your
request, and implored him to play for you. He listened,
stroked his mustache, and toyed with his big diamond
ring. "It is for the poor sick little children." "Ah!" he
said, "America is von grand country for poor leetle chil-
dren. They are efer doing something. Very well; why
should I not play for these young ladies, aud the poor sick
little children?" "Then yon will?" I said. "With plea-
sure." he said. "I do not play to eferybody. See ? I do
not become comniou. But this is different." "Oh, Pro-
fessor," I said, "how cau I thank you enough? Dare I ask
what you will select ?" And he said, '• A thing from Chopin
aud one of my own compositions."
Miss Sommcrfeld. But hear the rest, aud see,you naughty
girls, what a position you have got me into. He said, ' Do
yon not perform the piano, mademoiselle ?" "A little, a
very little,"! said. "We shall then give a four-hand pi. . .
Yes? Charmant! I have a uice thing, superb. We shall
close the parlor doors, and practise together."
J/orfc/c (Imaging her). The dear. See her blush. It will
be simply an elegant affair.
Miss Somiiierjield. But I am afraid to play with such a
l)ig musician. My heart will be in my mouth.
Charlotte. On no account, my dear. The practice will do
you good. And the honor will be overwhelming.
Grace. Indeed, you are a beautiful player, and think how
your name coupled with that of Skewsky will look. Every-
body will turn green with envy.
Miss Xtimiiii I'lii lil. If I don't spoil everything.
Ida. Girls, I see Uncle Jake. He's an old sailor wh<. is
hired to keep the grounds in order. He *pins the mu.-i <!.-
licious yarns. I'm going after him. and lei's see if u, can
set him a-going. [l.'j-ii.
I'ietoria. What fun !
' 'hiirlotte. But we ought to let nothing interfere with our
rehearsal.
Helen. Oh, bother the rehearsal! I have read lh.i>. < n,\
Sailor's yarns in HARPER'S Korxo TABU-:, haven't
But I never heard a real sailor talk.
.1/i.v.x .limns. I would better be going. If there's to be a
man in the party, mamma might not like —
.1/i.s.v Siiiiiini i-Jii lil. You will not olfend your mamma. I am
sure. This old sailor is a harmless, good-natured fellow.
Grace. Mow doe^ Ida eome t" know I'nele ,I;il,i '
t'ictoi'in. Her brother follows the sea. and iiatmalh *1»
makes up to sailors.
Olire. Ida is a darling.
I-' nli / Ida mill I 'nele .lake.
Ida. I have fetched him, girls; but be sa\s lie\ in a hur-
ry,aud can only say how-de. (.Ixiile In the <//'iV.O I1
him talking. His storie.- are genuine Bailors yarns.
How-de-do, I'm le .lak. .'
909
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
i' hiniiilli: We :in> right glad to see you. Do sit and rest
n v, bile on this bench.
.I/;** *,n,iiitrr /!rlil. We hope you are well, Uncle Jake?
r,n/, ./,(/,(. Tol'able. ma'am, tol'able. My knees are stiff
around the j'ints.
It/n. Uncle Jake, we are getting up an entertainment to
In- given in the hotel for the benefit ol'thr Sea-side Home.
I iii'lc Juke. Now that's a good tiling, Calc'hite to fetch
up there myself one of these days.
}'irtfiriii (laui/hiiii/ '. I!iit. Uncle Jake, this is not a home
for old sailors. It's for sick and poor babies. Yon see,
they would die in their overcrowded hot tenements; but
they com" to the home and get well.
/ iic/i Juke. < >h. land sakes ! That must be what the old
gentleman referred to. Sick babies. Yes, that's it.
< 'liiirlritti: What old gentleman ?
1'iiclt Juke. The one I met in the Saragossa Sea.
1/ln. Elegant. Girls, he's going to spill a yarn. Uncle
Jake, do please tell us about that. Was it an adventure ?
fiic-Je Jake. Quite so, miss. But 1 interrupt your pro-
ceedings.
>'i rrrnl at Once. Oh, go on. Do. Never mind the pro-
ceedings.
{'tide Jake. Well, that there was a tight scrape, and no
mistake. I was second mate of the Slue Turquoise. It
was a first-class voyage till we hove right inter the Sara-
gossa Sea, and there we war becalmed and stuck as fast as
a tly in mucilage. That Saragossa Sea is a ciirns place.
Sea-weeds grow a mile long, with blossoms big as sun-
flowers. Monsters swim around, and squat on the branches
and squint at the ships a-Iyiu' becalmed. It made me
kinder shiver to see them cretnrs' hungry looks. They
knew a ship would rot to pieces, only give her time. Our
< 'apt ing war powerful mad when he see he'd got inter the
Saragossa Sea. But gettin' mad arter a thing is done
don't do uo good. Waal, it war a red and fiery ball of a
sun. How I wished I could a set oucet more under a tree.
Truly I'd ha' given my bottom dollar to be a settin' under
thai old oak that we had to hum, an' a breeze a-stirrin' the
branches. Somethiu' to dry up the perspiration. Willie
war cabin-boy, and homesick and down in the mouth, poor
youngster. The Capting's face warn't reassuring. He was
plumb beat out.
J/('ss Siiiiuntrfu-lil. Girls, do you recall Coleridge's "Ancient
Mariner"?
uliri'. Yes.
" As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean."
Go on, Uncle Jake.
1'nc/i Juke. Waal, one night I war on deck alone. Willie
he was thar too. The Captiug he come up. "Ain't no
change, mate ?" says he. "No, sir," says I. "Bad business,"
says he. " Better soon, I hope," says I. " We're in the
oideutical spot we was in two weeks ago, "says he. " Mate,
the perwisions is givin' out, "says he, in a hoarse voice. "I
know it, sir," says I. It was the wnst feature of the case.
Thar war Willie standin' by, monrnfnl-like. I tried to
hearten up the Captiug a bit, but 'twarn't no use. "I'd
rutlier be in a whirlpool," says he, "than here. I'm goin'
below. If there's a change call me," says he. So he went
below, and pretty soon I heerd him and the rest of the crew
snoriu'. There warn't a solitary blessed thing for the men
to do, and they war all turned in. Willie and me we staid
lip and watched the heavens of brass. It might ha' been
midnight when I sighted a speck a long ways oft'. There
warn't no wind, yet it came on wonderful fast. "D'ye see
that, Willie, my boy?" says I. " It are a curus craft." But
Willie warn't asleep. He seen it too. Come near, there
Avar a 'normons shell with a fine hearty old gentlemau
sittin' in it, and by his side the harndsomest young lady
(ban-in' present company) that I ever seed. She war a
beautiful cretnr, with black eyes shinin' like stars, and long
golden hair, which she war a-combiu'out the snarls. The
shell was drawed by two white sea-horses. Their backs
•was like great fishes, ami their tails lay on top the water
like fishes' tails. Their forrnd part war like1 horses, and
their manes was like tossiu' waves. Bless my soul, but
they made a putty pictur'. When, they was hove close to
us the old gentleman hauled up his horses, and " Helloh !"
says he to me. " Helloh!" says I. " What's the name of
this ere wessel ?'' says he. The "Blue Turquoise," sa\ s 1.
" Jes so." says he. "Becalmed, ain't ye ?" "You're right
there, sir," says I. "What may I call you, sir ?" says I.
"Oh, I'm Father Neptune. "says he.
Mix* Julius. Oh. now. Uncle Jake. That's impossible.
Iila. Nothing is impossible. Don't interrupt.
I'lH-le Juki: I' nly telliu' ye what he said. He had a
pitchfork in his hand 'stead of a whip.
.I//™ James. That wasn't a pitchfork. It was a trident,
which had three prongs, and was a symbol of Neptune.
Mamma —
t'irluria. Miss James, you must be a realist. Now, please
let the story go on. Pitchfork it is, Uncle Jake.
Uncle Jake. Yes, ma'am, it war. "Well," says I, "that
harudsome gal is Miss Neptune, I suppose." With that the
young lady laughed fit to kill. " Not by a long shot." says
she. "I am Miss Lorelei." Then she giv me one of them
piercin' glances of hern, and I shivered. Willie he felt
oueasy too. "I beg your pardon, nia'am," says I. "Be
you the pusson what sits on a rock and draws sailors to
their own destruction?" "The very same," says she. ami
she kep' ou laughin' and laughin'. " If you please, ma'am,"
says I, " I'd ruther not be drawed. Though 'twould be a
change on staying here." "You're safe," says she. "I
ain't in the drawiu' business now," says she. "Father
Neptune and me 's takin' a trip round the world." Father
Neptune he spoke up, and says he, " Ever been to America ?
They say it's a fine country. We're goin' there. I want
to see their big ships that cross the ocean in five days, seven
hours, and fifty-nine minutes. That beats me. And then
their life - savin' stations, and light- houses, and sea-side
homes for poor sick babies. I want to see them all. Sea-
air is good for babies, eh f Good enough for me. I've lived
on it several hundred years. "You're lookiu' hale and
hearty, sir. I'm sure," says I.
" Well, good- by, and good luck to ye, "says he, pulliu' at
the reins.
"Hold on, your Honor," says I, for an idee had taken
possession of me. "Can't ye give us a pull out er this?"
He talked low with Miss Lorelei, and she didn't seeui to
object. "All right, throw us your hawser," says he. I
was all of atremble, but Willie and me got that there rope
loose in a hurry, and threw one end to Father Neptune, and
m.-ide fast the other. "Ain't you afraid?" says Willie.
" No, my boy," says I. " The end justifies the means." Miss
Lorelei took hold of the hawser, and Father Neptune give
his horses a poke with his pitchfork, and my eyes! the old
thing groaned and started. The Blue Turquoise was actu-
ally under way, and them horses foamiu' and prancin' for
all they was wnrth, 'twaru't long before we was flyin' and
churniu' the waves behind. Miss Lorelei looked back with
them wicked, beautiful eyes of hern, and tossed her golding
hair, aud, "You see I am back again in the drawin' busi-
ness," says she, with a laugh like the rattle of silver.
Up come the Captiug. " Got a wind, eh ?" says he.
" Why, no, not a breath. What in thunder makes her go?"
Theu he spied the hawser drawn tight over the bow, and
he turned pale, his knees knocked together, his teeth chat-
tered. You might have pushed him down with a straw.
It war, no mistake, a curus position, aud I never blamed
the Captiug for feeliu' queer. " It's all right, sir," sa\ s I ;
" \\e're bein' tugged."
" Who's a-doin1 the tuggiu' f" says he. Father Neptune
war nothiu' more'n a speck on the water by this time, aud
Capting couldn't make him out. I told the facts to the
(.'aptiug, and Willie, he, j'ined in, aud said it war blessed
Gospel truth. But the Capting's wind was clean out of his
sails. I set him a steamer-chair, and Willie fauued him
with a newspaper before he fairly come to. "Lord," says
I, "Capting, what's the odds how you git out of this, s'long
's you only git out ?" which I hold to be a pretty good
p'int.
We were pulled clear out of the Saragossa Sea, aud the
wind sprang up, aud we made port iu a week arter.
/ irloriii. Did Father Neptune let go the hawser?
I 'mil Ji/Li. No. miss. Ye see, I had forgot to tell him
910
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
•we was bound south, and nachelly In- licin' headed for the
Seaside Home, was a-goin' north. We cut the hawser.
But I'll never forgit the good turn lie ,li,l us.
Ida. My brother's name is Willie. He is a sailor.
Uncle Jal-f. What's his last name?
I,l«. Willie Moore.
Uncle Juki: Bless my soul, if that warn't the identical
chap.
• Ida. But my brother's first voyage was on the /'fir/wi.vr.
She sailed to the West Indies.
Uncle .fnki: It tear the Porpoise. Beats all, how my
memory fails. The Blue Turquoise war the next ship I
sailed in.
Ida. Willie never spoke of that adventure at home, Cap-
tain Jake.
Captain Jala: Ask him, ask him. 'Mind him of the Sar-
agossa Sea, and how the Blue — I mean the Porpoise — war
tugged. He'll recollect. Mention Miss Lorelei with her
goldiug hair. But good-day, young ladies. Pleased to
meet ye again.
All. Good-day, Captain Jake.
Miss Homiutrfielil. And many thanks for your pretty tale.
[Exit Captain Jake.
Miss James. I fear that old man does not always speak
the truth. Neptune is a pure myth.
Helen. Like the Gulf Stream.
Miss Jamcfi. And I seriously doubt, Miss Moore, if that
was your brother Willie.
Ida. Don't you worry.
Cliarlotte. I see Madge has found the old lyric mamma
loves. Read it, Madge, two lines at a time, and we will
sing it to the time of " What fairylike music steals over
the sea." *
" What fairjlike music steals over the sea,
Entrancing the senses with charm'd melody?
'Tis the voice of the mermaid, that floats o'er the main,
As she mingles her song with the gondolier's strain.
'Tis the voice of the mermaid, that floats o'er the main,
As she mingles her song with the gondolier's strain."
[Madge reads, and tin- />lln is MH<;.
When we have the entertainment, we'll let this be the last
thing on the programme.
GREAT MEN'S SONS.
BY ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS.
THE SON OF NAPOLEON.
•" I^TINETEEN — twenty — twenty-one," the people in the
i.1 Garden of the Tnileries counted. Then, with open
ears, they listened breathlessly. " Twenty-two ! Hurrah !
hurrah!" they shouted. "A boy ; it is a boy!" they cried.
'• Long live the Emperor! Long live the King of Rome!''
It was the 20th of March, 1811. A baby had been born
in the palace of the Tnileries. The booming cannon an-
nounced the great event, and the people knew that for a
girl twenty-one guns would be fired; for a boy, one hun-
dred. So wheu the twenty-second gun boomed out there
was no need for further counting. All the people knew
that an heir to the throne of France had been born, and
with loud acclamations they shouted "welcome" and
"long life" to the sou of Napoleon.
He was a bright, pretty little fellow, and his father loved
him from the start. At his very first cry Napoleon caught
him up, and hurrying to the great chamber in which the
foremost men of the empire were waiting, presented to
them " his Majesty the King of Rome !"
It was at the height of Napoleon's power. All Europe
lay at his feet. Thrones and principalities were his to nive
away; but for his son he reserved the title that would re-
vive the greatness aud glory of the ancient days and recall
the widespread sway of Charlemagne; the little Napoleon
was to be King of Rome, and heir to the Empire of France.
But a King must have a royal guard. So one day in
September, It'll, a brigade <>f bo\ s. none of them over twelve
years old, marched into the Coin- du Carrousel, where the
* Page 112, Vol. I., Franklin Square Library.
Emperor was reviewing his army, aud drew up in line «if
battle opposite the famous Old Guard of ihc. KIII|M mi. ,\n>l
Napoleon .said : " Soldiers of my guard, there are your chil-
dren. I confide to them the guard of my son, us I hav. < on
fided myself to you." And to the boys he said : -JI\ chil-
dren, upon you I impose a difficult duty, lint I rely upon
you. You are pupils of the guard, and your service is ihe
protection of the King of Rome."
There were days of splendor and ceremonial, of fAto aud
display, in the early life of the little King of I,' e. His
father was, literally, Kings of Kings ; he mad.- and unmade
so\ ereigns. he carved up nations, and cut out sta
Suddenly came the collapse. All Europe arrayed itself
against this crowned adventurer— this man who, through
a hundred years, lias remained at once the marvel and the
puzzle of history. There came days of preparation and
leave-taking, of war and battle, of defeat and disi:
When the days of war aud struggle came, the old-
time lire and dash and courage of the conqueror seemed
to have left him; his hopes were with his boy and that
boy's future rather than in the rush and grapple of armies.
So Napoleou's star set fast. With all Europe arrayed
against him for his overthrow, the great Corsican suddenly
became little, and everything went wrong.
On the 25th of January, 1814, the father saw his son for
the last time. Holding by the hand the boy, then nearly
three years old, the Emperor presented himself before the
eight hundred officers of the National Guard of Paris, as-
sembled in the gorgeous Hall of the Marshals. "Officers
of the National Guard," he said, " I go to take my place at
the head of the army. To your protection I confide my
wife aud my son, upon whom rest so many hopes. In your
care I leave what is next to France — the dearest thing I
have in the world."
But disaster overwhelmed both the Emperor aud the na-
tion. The guards were powerless to guard. The armies
of Napoleon were defeated ; he himself was banished to
Elba; aud the little Napoleon with his mother escaped to
the court of his grandfather, the Emperor of Austria.
With a final burst of courage Napoleon escaped from
Elba aud roused France once again to war. It was in vain.
His power and his luck were gone. Waterloo gave him his
death-blow, and the lonely island of St. Helena became his
prison and his grave.
Four days after Waterloo, on the 22d of June, 1815, Na-
poleon issued his last proclamation. "I niici m\>elf in
sacrifice to the hatred of the enemies of France," he an-
nounced. "My political life is ended, and I proclaim my
son, under the title of Napoleon II., Emperor of the French.
.... Let all unite for the public safety, and iu order to re-
main an independent nation. NAPOLEON."
But the nation was paralyzed by disaster. Union was
impossible. The boy thus proclaimed Emperor was far
from France, held by the enemy, lie was never to see his
native land again, never to see his father. never to reign
Emperor of the French.
For seventeen years the boy lived at the Austrian court,
practically a prisoner. His mother cared little for him, and
for years did not see him ; his name of Napoleon was denied
him ; his titles of Emperor and King were taken from him,
and ho was known simply as the Duke of Reiclistadi.
His grandfather, the Emperor of Austria, was kind to
him, and tried to make an Austrian of him, but he grew
from a bright, handsome little fellow into a lonely, low-
spirited, and brooding boy, who remembered his former
grandeur aud the high position to which he hail been
and fretted over the knowledge that he, the sou of Napo-
leon, could inherit no portion of his father's glory, and was
denied even the empty honor of his name.
At five he was a beautiful boy, who rebelled when his
tutors tried to teach him German, and delighted to play
jokes on his royal grandfather; it has even been solemnly
averted that he tied the imperial coat taiU to a chair, and
filled the imperial boots with ^ra\el. At se\en lie put on
the uniform of a private in the Austrian lioyal Guard, and
displayed a liUing for military life, lli^ 2
change to reticence and a [i litude as lie grew old
enough to appreciate his position. One of the Austrian
911
'HIS MAJESTY THE KING OF ROME."
Generals was discoursing to the boy one day ou the three
greatest warriors of the world.
"I know a fourth," said the young Napoleon.
" And who is that?" the commandant asked.
"My father," replied the boy, proudly, and walked away
from tin- lecturer.
He was ten years old when his great father died in his
exile at St. Helena (on the 5th of May, 1821). The boy
wept bitterly when he was told the. news, and shut himself
up for several days. He put on mourning, but the Austrians
compelled him to put it off, and permitted him to show no
grief for his dead father.
After this he grew still more quiet and secretive ; he took
to his books, became quite a student, and wrote an able
treatise upon Caesar's Commentaries. When he was fifteen
he was permitted to read books about his father and the
history of France, and at, sixteen he was instructed in the
forms of Austrian government, and the false theory known
as " the divine right of Kings."
When he was twenty he "came out" into society, and
was made Lieutenant-Colonel of infantry in the Austrian
army, but he never " smelled powder" nor saw war. Brood-
ing and solitude weakened his constitution; ill health
resulted; his lungs were touched with disease ; and ou the
22d of July, in the year 1832, having reached tin- age of
twenty-one, the son of Napoleon died in the palace of Selii'>n-
briinu, of consumption.
It seems hard, but death was the only solution of what
might have been a problem. Without the will, the energy,
the genius, or the sel6shness of bis remarkable father, the
son of Napoleon had yet ambition, persistence, and a rev-
erence for his father's memory that amounted almost, to a
pa»ion. Without any special love for France, he cherished
that dream of empire that his father had made come true.
Had he lived and joined ability to strength, his name might
have raised up armies, and again drenched Europe in
blood — the tool of factions or the prey of his own ambitious.
He died a lonely invalid, and Europe was spared the horror
of a possible "might have been."
Ou the plain bronze tomb that marks this boy's place of
burial in the Carthusian Monastery at Vienna — near to
that of another unwise and unfortunate Prince, the Aus-
trian usurper Maximilian of Mexico — the visitor may read
this inscription, placed there by the Emperor, his grand-
father: To the eternal memory of Joseph Charles Francis.
Duke of Reichstadt, sou of Napoleon, Emperor of the
French, and Marie Louise, Archduchess of Austria. Born
at Paris. March 211, 1811. when in his cradle he was hailed
by the title of King of Rome ; he was endowed with every
faculty, both of body and mind; his stature was tall; his
countenance adorned with the charms of youth, and his
conversation full of affability; he displayed an astonish-
ing capacity for study, and the exercise of the military art :
attacked by a pulmonary disease, he died at Schoubrnnn.
near Vienna, July 22, 1832.
The epitaph tells but one side of this boy's story; the
other side is sad enough. A young life he-gun in glory
went out in gloom ; the Prince of the Tuileries became the
prisoner of Vienna ; the dream of empire was speedily dis-
pelled, and death itself mercifully removed one who might
have been a menace and a curse to Europe.
What he might have been had his father remained con-
ijneror and Emperor none may say. But the star of Na-
poleon, that had blazed like a meteor in Europe's startled
sky, flickered, fell, and went out in disgrace. Thencefor-
ward the shadow of the father's downfall clung to the boy.
and the son of Napoleon had neither the opportunity, the
energy, nor the will to display any trace of that genius for
conquest, that made the name of Napoleon great in his day.
and greater since his downfall and his death.
912
OAKLEIQH.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELANO.
CHAPTER XII.
' "\TTHY has be come IK .'"
w
This was the question ou the lips of each oue of
the family when they heard of Neal's arrival.
It was soon answered. He had been suspended.
He would give little explanation; he merely asserted
that he was innocent of that of which he was accused.
Some of the boys, the most unmanageable at St. Asaph's,
had plotted to do some mischief. Neal, being more or less
intimate witli the set, was asked to join in the plot, but re-
fused. He was with the boys, however, up to the moment
of their putting it into execution. Afterwards circum-
stances pointed to his having been concerned in it, and his
known intimacy with these very boys condemned him.
There was but one person who could prove absolutely
that he had not been with the culprits that night, and that
person held his peace.
Of course Cynthia rightly suspected that it was Bronsou.
A letter came from the head master of the school, stating
the facts as they appeared to him, and announcing with
regret that he had been obliged to suspend Neal Gordon for
the remainder of the term.
It was au unfortunate aft'air altogether. Neal was moody
and low-spirited, and he
•was deeply offended that
his story was not general-
ly believed, for the house-
hold was divided iu regard
to it.
Jack and Cynthia stoutly
maintained his innocence,
Mr. Franklin and Edith
looked at the worst side
of it, while Mrs. Franklin
was undecided in her opin-
ion.
She wanted to believe her
brother's word, she did be-
lieve it, and yet all the
proved facts were so hope-
lessly against him. The
other boys that had been
suspended were his friends.
Neal bad been reproved be-
fore for mischief that he
had been in with them. It
was oue of those sad cases
•when a man's past record
counts against him. no
matter how innocent he
may be of the present of-
fence. But Hester could not
believe that her brother
would lie to her.
One morning Edith drove
her father to the train. Not
a vestige of snow was left
near the road ; only a patch
or two ou the hills, and
even that was rapidly dis-
appearing iu the spring
sunshine which every day
grew warmer.
" Have you heard much
about St. Asaph's from any
one but Neal ?" asked Mr.
Franklin, quite abruptly.
" Doesn't that cousin of the
Morgans go there?"
"Do you mean Tom,
papa? Yes, he does, and
Tony Bronson, too, who
stays at the Morgans' oc-
casiouallv." POOR
" I think I remember. Hid yon ever hear either of them
speak of Neal. or discuss him iu any way?"
Kdith hesitated.
"Tom Morgan never did," she said at last.
"And the other fellow?"
"Yes, he said something. Really, papa, I wish you
wouldn't ask me."
•• What nonsense! Of course it is your duty to tell
Edith. It is right that I should know how Neal stands
with his class. What did the boy say?"
" He spoke as if Neal were in some scrape, and he wished
that he could help him out."
" He is a friend of NeaPs, then ?"
"I don't know. He spoke very nicely of him, and really
seemed to want to help him; but Cynthia didn't believe
that when I told her. She seemed to think he was an ene-
my of Neal's. But then Cynthia can't bear him, you know.
She took one of her tremendous prejudices against Tony
Bronsou, the way she often does, and she wouldn't believe
that there was a bit of good in him."
"lint you liked him?"
"Yes, very much. I think he is conceited, but then so
many boys are that. As far as I could see he is a very
*
BOB ! HIS JOV HAD BEEN' QUICKLY TURNED TO MO1
913
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
nice fellow, and the Morgans like him ever so much. The
only people that I know of who don't like him are Jack
and Cynthia and Neal."
" I don't believe there is much doubt that Neal has been
very wild all the time he has been at St. Asaph's," observed
Mr.* Franklin. " This only goes to prove it. Brousou was
not in that set, evidently, as he was not one of those win.
were suspended, and I have no doubt he is a very good sort
of fellow. It is a pity Neal doesn't see more of him."
They drew up at the post-office, and Mr. Franklin went
in to get the letters. He came out with quite a budget,
and stood at the carriage looking hastily over them.
"All of these are to go home," he said, giving a number
to Edith. " Here is one for me with the St. Asaph's post-
mark. I will see what it is."
He tore it open, and glanced at the signature. Then he
looked up quickly.
" What was that Bronson fellow's name, Edith?"
" Tony."
"Then this is from him. Odd we should just have been
talking about him. Humph!"
Mr. Franklin's face grew grave, then angry, as he read
the letter.
" That boy will come to no good end," he muttered. '• I
don't know what we are going to do with him."
Edith watched him curiously. She wished that her fa-
ther would give her the letter to read, but he did not.
People were hurrying by to the station, which was but a
few steps from the post-office.
"You will miss your train, Franklin," said some one, tap-
ping him on the shoulder.
Mr. Franklin glanced at the clock iu the station tower,
found that he had but half a minute, and with a hasty
good-by to Edith, and strict injunctions not to mention
Bronson's letter at home, he ran for his train, thrusting the
mysterious note into his pocket as he weut.
Edith did the errands and drove home again, after a
brief call upon Gertrude Morgan, who was full of curiosity
about Neal's return.
"I always knew he was pretty gay," she said. "Of
course Tom and Tony Brousqu wouldn't say much — boys
never do, you know; but I gathered from certain things
that Neal was — well, rather sporty, to say the least."
Edith drove homeward rather slowly. She was very
sorry about it all: sorry for Neal himself, whom she liked,
despite the fact that he was a Gordon ; sorry for her step-
mother, whom she told herself she disliked ; and yet Mrs.
Franklin's unvarying kindness and sweet temper had not
been without good results. Edith had softened greatly
towards her, more than she herself was aware of. She
still continued to assure herself that it was an unfortunate
day for them when the Gordons came, and she worked her-
self into a temper when she thought of the added worri-
nient it gave her father to have Neal behave as he had
done.
"Papa looked so anxious this uioruiug when he read
that letter," she said to herself. " It is too bad. I do
wonder what was iu it, and from Tony Brousou, too ! What
would Gertrude have said if I had told her?"
In the mean time Mr. Franklin was reading his letter
again.
"MY DEAR MR. FRANKLIN [it ran], — It is with great re-
gret that I am obliged to call a little matter to your atten-
tion. I had hoped that it would not be necessary. Your
brother- in- law. Xeal Gordon, owes me a small amount,
fifty dollars, in fact, aud I am at present really in need of
the money. I have waited for it a good while, nearly a
year, and there are one or two bills that I am expected to
pay out of my allowance, which I am unable to do until
Gordon pays uie.
" Of course I dislike very much to dun him for it when
he is in disgrace, but really I see no other way out of the
difficulty than to ask you if you will kindly forward a
check to my order. Very truly yours,
"ANTHONY BRONSON.
"St. Asaph's, April 2d."
This letter had cost the writer much thought. He had
written several copies before he was altogether satisfied,
but at last the result pleased him.
"I call it rather neat," lie said, as he folded it carefully
and addressed the envelope with an extra flourish. "This
will bring the roof down on our tine high-and-mighty Mr.
Gordon, if nothing else does. I fancy that brother-in-law
of his has a nice little temper of his own, and it will be-
so pleasant for Gordie to be nagged by a brother-in-
law !"
When Editli got back to Oakleigh the morning that
Brouson's note was received she found wild excitement
raging, which, for a time, made her forget the letter.
Some of the Leghorn pullets, which, unfortunately, could
fly high, had escaped from the yard, notwithstanding the
wire netting which enclosed them, aud had been having a
fine time scratching and pecking iu entirely new hunting-
grounds, when Bob happened along.
Here was his chance. For many mouths he had been
waiting for this very moment. What was the use of being
a sporting dog, if he could not now and then indulge his
hunting proclivities? His master had gone ou the river
and left him at home— his master did not treat him well,
nowadays. Bob felt neglected. He would have oue good
time.
He waited his opportunity, and when it camo he made
the most of it. A fine fat hen, peacefully picking a worm,
found the tables suddenly turned. Instead of the worm
being in her mouth, she found herself iu the mouth of the
horrible black object which she had often seen peering
greedily at her through the fence. Oh, that she had never
flown over that fence! She gave one despairing "cluck"
as she was borne madly through the air, aud then was
silent forever.
Janet and Willy, playing near, heard the noise and fol-
lowed iu pursuit, calling Cynthia as they did so, who, see-
ing what was the matter, flew from the house, dogwhip in
hand. The boys were both ou the river.
For a time the chase was hopeless. Bob had not waited
all these mouths for nothing; he had no intention of
dropping the prize at the first command. Round aud
round he tore, leading his pursuers a pretty dance through
orchard and field, over the lawn, and through the currant-
bushes. Cynthia fell at this particular point, with Janet
and Willy ou top of her, but they picked themselves up aud
started again.
At last Mrs. Franklin, coming out, headed Bob oft', aud
Cyuthia grasped his collar.
"Bad dog!" she cried. "Neal told me I was to punish
you, and I mean to do it."
She cut him with the short whip, but it was of no avail.
Bob had dropped the chicken, and, wild with excitement,
sprang from her hand. She only succeeded in lashing her-
self with the whip.
"It's no use," she said at last. " I've got to punish him
some other way. The boys won't he home for ever so long,
and it won't do to wait."
"I have always heard the only way of curing a dog of
killing hens was to tie oue around his neck," said Mrs.
Franklin, doubtfully. "Perhaps it had better be done.
We will call oue of the men."
" No, I will do it all," said Cynthia ; " it's not a very nice
piece of work, but I'll do it."
Cord was brought, aud she finally succeeded in attaching
the defunct hen to Bob's collar. Poor Bob! His joy had
been quickly turned to mourning. And now this «tern
Cyuthia — she who had hitherto been apparently so affably
disposed towards him — fastened him to the bitch ing-post,
and came with a horrid horsewhip to chastise him! Bob
never forgot that morning. He always thought of Cyuthia
with more respect after that.
When Neal came home he highly approved of all the pro-
ceedings except the horsewhip.
" Couldn't you do it with his own whip ?" he asked. " It
places a dog at a meau disadvantage to tie him up and
then whip him. It is so lowering to his dignity."
"One of us had to be at a disadvantage," said Cynthia,
indignantly, "and I should thiuk it was better for Bob to
914
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
be at it than for me. And as for his diguity, I think it
ought to be lowered."
To which wise remark Neal was forced to agree
Jack was much disgusted at losins one of his best hens.
Vt hat with the fox last winter, and a neighbor's do- that
had killed seveu, aud a peculiar disease which had'takeu
<>ft nfty,lnck seemed to he against the poultry business
But, uudiscouraged, Jack had refilled the machine and « as
awaiting results. Some of last year's hens had be^un to
lay, aud he was sending eggs to the Boston markets
There were actually a few more figures on the page for re-
ceipts.
Bob's misdemeanor temporarily diverted the minds of
the family from the trouble about Neal, but Mr. Franklin'*
return that night brought up the subject again to some of
them.
He told his wife that he wished to speak with her, and
together they went into the library and shut the door. He
laid two letters before her on the table — the one he had re-
ceived that morning from Brouson, and a second one from
the same source, which had come by the evening mail. The
latter was very brief:
" MY DEAR MR. FRANKLIN,— The very day that I sent my
letter to you I received a money-order from Gordon for the
amouut lie owed me.
"Regretting very much that I should have troubled yon,
I have the honor to be
" Very truly yours,
" ANTHONY BRONSON."
•• What does it mean !" asked Mr. Franklin, when his wife
had finished reading the letters.
" I cannot imagine," said she, looking up, completely
mystified.
"Did you lend him the money f
"No, certainly not. I should have told you, John, if I
had," she added, reproachfully.
" I know," he said, as he walked up and down the room,
'•but I could not account for it in any other way. It is ex-
traordinary."
" Suppose we send for Neal and ask him about it."
When Neal came he was given the two letters to read.
He did so, and laid them down without a word.
" Well, what have you got to say for yourself?'' asked hi.s
brother-in-law, impatiently.
"Nothing."
" Neal dear, you must explain," said Hester.
" Why should I explain f I paid the debt. It doesn't
make any difference to either of you how I did it."
" It makes a great deal of difference," exclaimed Mr.
Franklin, who was rapidly growing angry. •' In the first
place, how did you come to be owing fifty dollars so soon
after the other debt was paid ? What did yon do with the
first fifty your sister gave you in the fall ?'•'
"Spent it."
" Neal !" cried Hester. " Didu't you pay your debts then ?
Why didn't you f '
He said nothing.
"It is an abominable affair altogether," said Mr. Frank-
lin. "You were in debt, which you had no business to be.
You obtained money from Hester to pay the debt, and then,
according to your own words, you spent it otherwise. You
get into a bad scrape and are suspended. Aud now you
obtain money in some peculiar way, and refuse to explain
how."
" Hold on a minute, Mr. Franklin," said Neal, who was in
a towering rage by this time. •' You go a little too far. I
don't consider that it is at all necessary for me to explain
to you, but I am willing to do it on Hessie's account. I
did not say that I spent her money otherwise. I merely
said that I spent it, which was perfectly true. I spent it
paying half my debt. I owed a hundred dollars at that
time, instead of fifty as I told you. I paid half then, and
the rest I paid a few days ago, and it doesn't make any
difference to you or any one else how I got the money.
As for the scrape. I was not in it. You can believe my
wurd or not, as you like. I've said all I am going ti> saj
and if you don't mind I'll leave you. I've had , non-1, of
this."
He stalked out of the library, and went up to his own
'""in No one saw him again that evening.
" You are too hard ou him, John," said Mrs. Franklin.
'Hard on him! It would have beeu b.-tter forth,- boy
if some one had begun earlier to be hard on him It is ih'..
most extraordinary thing where In- IM.I thai mOni
Nothing was said to the others about it all. They Knew
that Neal was in fresh disgrace, but Mr. and Mr.-. Franklin
withheld the details at present. Neal himself was dumb.
Not even to his only confidante, Cynthia, did he unburden
himself. He was too angry with her father to (rust himseH
to speak to her ou the subject, and his silence mad, Cyu
thia miserable.
' Neal did not acknowledge for a moment flint the stand
taken by Mr. Franklin -was perfectly justifiable and natural,
and he allowed his resentment to burn furiously, making
no effort to overcome it.
His mistake from the beginning had been concealment,
but this he had yet to realize. He fancied that it AMU, 1,1
be lowering to his pride to make any explanation what-
ever.
Let them think what they liked, he did not care, he said
to himself again and again.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE RIGHT AND THE WRONG OF IT.
rilHERE is perhaps a question as to what is the proper
-L position for the best aud healthiest bicycle riding.
Some good riders sit in one position, have one length of
pedal stride, and use one kind of ankle motion, and others
— just as good riders — believe in something entirely differ-
ent, aud prove it by riding long distances or at i;r,-at speed
without either injury or discomfort to themselves. The
suggestions given below must stand, therefore, only as sug-
gestions, which can only he proved by you yourself to he
correct after you have followed them for some time, and
found them of benefit to yourself. They are followed by
many good road riders aud racers, and that is some recom-
mendation, aud for the practical pleasure of wheelman thej
are probably the best that can be had.
In the first place.it is taken for granted that you are lid-
ing a bicycle for pleasure, not as a business; that you ride
of an afternoon say thirty miles or so, not much more, that
occasionally yon make a day's trip to some place and do
fifty miles, and that perhaps you take a fortnight's trip of
five or six or seven hundred miles. In other word.-, ihe
readers of the EOVND TABLE, both boys and girls, are the
subject of this article. They do not ride five hundred
miles in twenty-four hours on a track on thousand-dollar
wagers, and they refrain from trying to do a mile in a min-
ute and fifty seconds. They do not "train " lor then tups.
but they treat their wheels as they would cat-boats .1,
horses or tennis, or any other healthy out-door sport.
For such people bicycle riding is not by any means the
healthiest exercise that could be found. In the hist place.
it is an extraordinary stimulus to the heart. If yon dis-
mount after working up a bad hill you may very po-.-ihl\
find your pulse at 1;">0 — something unusual in al
any running name. Then again, while riding exercises
certain muscles of the legs admirably, the shoulders and
back muscles are not only not getting much training, but
in certain too common positions they are actualU being
distorted. Still again there is a constant tcndenex to overdo
the thing, to ride too much, and especially in tin- rase ,,t'
girls to tire yourself out, and bring a strain on the system
that may result in something more or less permanent in the
shape of injury.
All this is not set down at the beginning to scare any
one away from bicycling. Imperfect exerei.se is better than
none, and many people ride a wheel religiously who \Mnil, 1
not be persuaded to take any other regular exercise. The
hours in the open air on a wheel are far better than noth-
iug, therefore, and then, too, a good many other exercises
915
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
which are far more general,
are for oue reason or an-
other beyond the reach of
some of us. Horseback
riding, for example, is a
much more general and
temperate exercise, but we
cauuot all support a sta-
ble. Walking is no doubt
better than bicycling ; but
few of us will walk regu-
larly day after day teu
miles in the proper form
and costume, while just
now we are all willing to
do twice that amount on
a wheel and in correct cos-
tume. So that bicycling,
iu spite of its drawbacks,
is distinctly to be encour-
aged. There is, however,
a right way and many
wrong ones, and though
people may disagree on
some of the details, they do
not fail to agree on general
principles.
Bicycling for boys is dif-
ferent in most details from
bicycling for girls, and we
TOO LONG A HEAi II must speak separately of
these, as indeed the two
should be enjoyed separately generally. A boy always
has more endurance, and can tire out a girl in four
miles. He should therefore either ride only in com-
pany of his own sex, or he should, when riding with a girl,
keep to her standard rather than try to bring her up to
his. This is hard work for the boy, and needs his constant
attention during the ride, so much so, indeed, that he will
do better not to ride with girls at all.
To begin with, then, let us take the ordinary upright po-
sition, such a position as will correspond to the upright po-
sition assumed by any oue who is walking, by a good
horseman in the saddle, by a cross-country runner in his
run. There are rules for all these, and they are relatively
the same. You want to give yourself plenty of room tn
breathe in. The chest ought to be well out, therefore, the
shoulders thrown back, and the head up, so that you will
not be crowding all the veins that send blood into your
head by letting your neck sink into your shoulders. This
is the same iu horseback riding, running, walking, and
rowing. You can assume this position while sitting and
reading this article by following this simple rule: Sit
scjuarely cm the chair. Then tix your mind on an imagi-
nary spot in your chest bone or " sternum," just half-way
between your pectorals and on a line with them. Tin -n
try to "lift" this point up as high as you can. Your abdo-
men will naturally be contracted, or will "go in," as you
say. The small of your back will curve iu, and the back of
your neck at the base of the brain will press backwards,
while your chin is brought in close to your neck in front,
at the same time the shoulders are pressed back. When
this position is exaggerated, it looks somewhat pompous
and idiolic, but it is the correct position for the trunk of
the body, and when it becomes natural it looks natural.
This is the position you should assume when you are in
the saddle of a bicycle. Of course no one, man or lin\.can
keep up in this position all the time, but you should keep
as near it as you comfortably can. Comfort is really the
basis of all such positions, and while, to a certain extent,
comfort is the result of habit, still a more upright position
is more natural to one than to another rider.
This upright seat is dependent on itself. That is to say,
you should get in the habit of taking it so easily that,
supposing you could ride with handles, you would sit thus
nevertheless. In other words, you should not depend on
your hands and the grip they have on the handles for sup-
port at all. The hands and arms are not needed as you sit
in a chair, nor as you walk, nor as you ride a horse, except
as guides in one ease to guide the horse, iu the other to keep
your balance while walking, and finally on the bicycle to
guide the wheel and keep yourself balanced on it. If you
will examine the two cuts accompanying this article, en-
titled, respectively, "correct road position "and "incorrect
road position, "you will at once see the difference. The incor-
rect position shows a rider " leaning " on his hands and arms.
The seat is a very common one, unfortunately, and if you
examine the next twenty riders you meet, especially those
who have ridden fifteen or twenty miles, you are likely to
find most of them in this condition. The arms are rigid,
the body is leaning on them. This thrusts the shoulders
back uutil the shoulder-blades touch each other behind the
shoulders. The lungs and neck are pushed forward, and
every single muscle and nerve in the upper part of the
trunk and neck is out of place. The result is that neither
heart nor lungs get good opportunity for action, and the
shape of your upper body is slowly but surely being deform-
ed. In the other position, the correct one, the rider could at
any moment take his hands from the handle-bar and not
alter his position in any way. The two contrasted speak
for themselves.
It may, of course, be said that when a rider becomes tired
CORRECT ROAD POSITION.
INCORRECT ROAD POSITION.
916
HARPER'S ROUXD TABLE
CORRECT SCORCHING.
INCORRECT SCORCHING.
•with riding, the incorrect position is a great rest. lu the
first place, tins is uot true if he has raithfiilly learned to
riile in the upright scat. Then the other becomes nneom-
fortalilr. In the correct position the wheelman bas his
arms a trifle bent at the elbow, so that when he goes over
any uneveiiuess in the road his arms give, and he avoids
the shaking of his whole body by the jounce, to say no-
thing of the certainty of giving his wheel an unpleasant
shaking np.
In the most modern wheels the position of the rider is
almost that of a pedestrian — that, is, the pedals are almost
under the saddle, so that be treads directly up and down.
This helps him in keeping his seat without the aid of hands
and anus, and it makes all the muscles of the legs and thighs
work in their proper places, and the whole action of his
body thus becomes natural. All this can be seeu iu the
" correct position," anil there can hardly be a question that
this is the natural position for a man to take when be
mounts his wheel for a run of a few miles. It naturally
brings part of the weight of the body on the pedals,
relieves the very uncomfortable weight on the saddle, and
helps a rider to balance himself without the use of han-
dle - bars, thus avoiding the "wriggling" of the wheel,
which is so tiresome and so deadening to a steady road
gait.
The position of a man who is racing is, of course, quite
different, and it has a parallel iu horse-racing. A jockey
when he is riding a racing horse iu a big race rises in bis
stirrups, leans far forward, and crouches on the horse's neck;
but because a jockey does this iu a ran- — and advisedly so
— is no reason for a gentleman to do the same when he is
out for a janut on his cob of au afternoon. The two seats
are both correct, but each belongs to its sphere. So it is
with the bicycle. The racing or " scorching " position is a
difficult one to represent in a photographic reproduction,
because each man has his own particular ideas, and as most
men who race make a study of the subject, the result is that
there are many different ideas. The general principle is,
however, to get a strong purchase on the handles in order
to give yourself greater power in thrusting down on the
pedals, and at the same time to curl up the body in order
to give as little resistance to the air as possible. Any one
who has ridden against the wind will realize what au
enormous difference the air makes on bis speed, and this
is, of course, multiplied when the rider is going at a record-
breaking speed.
But there are correct and incorrect racing positions, and
the two illustrations on the subject will give you a sugges-
tion of these. A" scorching" position cannot be taken on
a bicycle where the saddle and handle-bars have been ar-
ranged for the upright road position. This can be easily
seen by referring to the illustrations again. In the convet
scorching position the handles are very low down, and the
seat is raised and tipped forward, so that the rider, while
pulling up strongly on the handles, is practically only lean-
ing against the saddle, and putting all his weight on the
pedals. The back is curved rather than straight, because a
much greater purchase can be obtained in this way : and
indeed the curved back makes a much more vigorous and
symmetrical attitude.
The important point to remember is, however, that you
cannot assume the scorching position and the upright mail
position on the same bicycle without putting on different
handle-bars. Hence, when you see a man tr\ing this po>i-
tiou with high handles you know he is wrong. On I In-
other hand, to start- out for a pleasant afternoon run
through the. country for twenty-five miles in a scorching
position is just as absurd as it would be if a man riding a
horse 'in the Park for pleasure should assume the jockey
seat. There is neither rhyme nor reason iu it. Finally, a
half-way position — one between the upright and the scorch-
ing positions — is worst of all.
Another important point iu road-riding is the height of
the saddle above the lowest point iu the arc described by
CORRECT LENGTH OF REACH.
917
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
tin- pedals. Experience has shown that when the pedal is
nt its lowest and you are sitting squarely on the saddle,
your heel should he on a level with the toe of the hoot
and your knee a trifle bent. Or, to put it differently, it should
be possible for yon to plaee the ball of your foot on the
pedal and follow it around in its circle without absolutely
straighteuiug your leg to its utmost. Or, still again, as
other people describe it, you should be ahle to put the toe
of your shoe under the pedal and keep it there all the way
round, the leg being straightened at the longest stretch.
The illustration-representing this shows the correct length
of stride, and by referring to another cut you will see what
results when the rider has raised his seat so high that he
is obliged to let his toes point down with a straight leg in
order to follow the pedal around. This illustration, repre-
senting too long a stride, shows by the wriukles in the
rider's trousers and shirt that he is compelled to lower not
only his hips but his whole side and shoulder, and, of
course, the same is repeated alternately on the other side.
As these photographs were taken by an instantaneous
>lidr, and the riders were in motion, they are all actual po-
sitions during riding, and as such illustrate exactly what
happens in each case.
In this case of too long a stride there is real danger to
health in the long-run. The wheelman makes many thou-
sand revolutions in a week, and rides throughout a good
part of the year, anil any one can see in a moment that this
constant working of all the vital parts of the body must be
anything but healthy. Furthermore, aside from the ques-
tion of health altogether, a wheelman becomes quickly tired
out with this continual shifting. He may not kuow what
is the cause of his weariness, but it is sure to be parth due
to it if he rides in that way. There is no reason why a
rider should want to have a long stride. It does not make
any greater speed, and it actually detracts from the power
of his stroke.
Now a word as to the ankle movement. Of course the
force applied through the foot to the pedal at the moment
when the latter is one-quarter way round the circle from
the top, or, in other words, half- way "down," is the most
valuable and powerful. Just as in rowing, the strength put
into the oar wheu it is exactly at right angles with the
boat is the most valuable. And, furthermore, the earlier
or later the strength is applied to the pedals the less and
less powerful it becomes so far as sending the wheel ahead
goes. If you press down hard when the pedal is nearly or
fully down to its lowest point you are scarcely seudiug the
wheel ahead at all, and all your exertion goes for nothing
therefore. Practically speaking, in order to get the best
of your strength in at the quarter-circle point you should
begin to push, aud push vigorously, the moment the pedal
has passed by its highest point. The push should be quick
and short, and should stop as soon as possible after the
quarter-circle point has been passed. There is an instant
of rest there, and then the heel should be raised a little and
a sharp upward and backward pull made on this same
pedal at the same instant that the downward push is being
made on the other pedal with the other foot. As a result,
the rider is pulling up with one foot while he is push-
ing down with the other, and there are therefore two dis-
tinct motions with each leg during a. single revolution of
the pedal. Many riders only push downward, and. allow
the pedals to rise of their own accord, so to speak, but they
waste a part of the force of each revolution by this — not a
half, but fully one-third of what they might easily put
into it.
As a result of this the heel takes a different position rel-
ative to the toe at different parts of one revolution At
the top and bottom the two are on the same level, but the
heel goes down quicker than the toe and comes up quicker.
This is very tiresome for the beginner, aud he soon finds
the calves of his legs aching sharply, but in time he will
become accustomed to it, and the added amount of speed
which he gets out of his machine is surprising even to
himself.
There, is not space enough left to say anything of girls'
riding, but some time in the future this should have a short
article by itself.
MAY BE SO.
BY RUTH JIcENERY STUART.
SEPTEMBER butterflies flew thick
O'er flower-bed and clover-rick,
When little Miss Penelope.
Who watched them from grandfather's knee.
Said, "(iraudpa. what's a butterfly.'"
And, "Where do flowers go when they die?"
For questions hard as hard can be
I recommend Penelope.
But grandpa had a playful way
Of dodging things too hard to say,
By giving fantasies instead
Of serious answers, so he said,
" Whene'er a tired old flower must die,
Its soul mounts in a butterfly;
Just now a dozen snow- wings sped
From out that white petunia bed ;
"And if you'll search, you'll find, I'm sure,
A dozen shrivelled cups or more;
Each pansy folds her purple cloth,
And soars aloft in velvet moth.
"So when tired sunflower doffs her cap
Of yellow frills to take a nap,
'Tis but that this surrender brings
Her soul's release on golden wings."
"But is this so? It ought to be,"
.Said little Miss Penelope,
"Because I'm sure, dear grandpa, you
Would only tell the thing that's true.
"Are all the butterflies that fly
Eeal angels of the flowers that die ?"
Grandfather's eyes looked far away
As if he scarce knew what to say.
"Dear little Blossom," stroking now
The golden hair upon her brow,
" I — can't — exactly — say — I — know — it,
I only heard it from a poet.
" And poets' eyes see wondrous things,
Great mysteries of flowers and wings,
And marvels of the earth and sea
And sky, they tell us constantly.
" But we can never prove them right,
Because we lack their finer sight ;
And they, lest we should think them wrong,
Weave their strange stories into song
''So beautiful, BO xicmini/ true,
So confidently stated too,
That we, not kuowiug yes or no,
Can only hupe they may In 10."
" But, grandpapa, no tale should close
With i/8 or but* or iinty-Iie-*<»-.
So let us play we're poets, too,
Aud then we'll AHOIC that this is true."
NEW THINGS THAT ARE OLD.
IN spite of the protests of inventors, aud of those who
believe they have investigated everything since the
deluge, that there is nothing new under the sun, the Psalm-
ist was right wheu he put that thought into the colloquial
language. On the Assyrian slabs, and on more than one
old European fresco, is seen the paddle-wheel for boats,
although the propeller is not in evidence. The bicycle
seems to have been known iu China more than two hun-
dred years ago, and the velocipede was seen iu Europe even
before that. On a pane of the ancient painted glass iu
the old church at Stoke Pogis, England, may be seen the
representation of a young fellow astride of one of these
machines. He is working his way along with the air of
a rider who has introduced a novelty, and is the object of
the unbounded admiration of a multitude of witnesses.
918
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
HE
PUDDING
I".' ]>l.':l*i'.i tO II
iddreis Editor.
subject si
. if,,- K,lil.,rMil]
]..-rtilfiiU $h<>uld
VACATION is almost over. Indeed, for some of yon
school has already begun again, and I like to tain \ \o"
as taking up your studies with renewed zest and ardor.
"The rich air is sweet with the breath of September,
The sumach is .staining the hedges with red;
Soft rests on the hill-slopes the light, we remember,
The glory of days which so long ago fled,
When, brown-cheeked and ruddy,
Blithe-hearted and free,
The summons to study
We answered with glee.
Listen ! oh, listen ! once more to the swell
Of the masterful, merry Academy bell."
This stanza describes the feelings of grown people, mothers
and aunties, and grandmothers, who used to go to school,
anil have now arrived at the stage on the road where the
mile-stones are inscribed ''Remember." Yon have not yet
roinc ill sight of these mile-stones. Yours are still marked
with "Hope," "Onward," "Courage," and similar cheery
words.
IF I were a girl again, and could go to school, I would be
careful, at least I think I would be careful, not to lose any
time. Yours is foundation-work, ami it is very important
that this should be, because the habits of care and dili-
gence you are forming iu yonr class-rooms will help you
through your whole lives. It is really less what you study
than the way you study it which is the main thing to be
considered now.
A GIRL at school cannot, of course, always be provided
with every appliance for her work, but, as a rule, she ought
to have her own books, her own pads, pencils, ink-eraser,
crnyons, drawing-paper, penknife, and whatever else she
needs in order to do her work, so that she is under no ne-
cessity to borrow from her friends. What would you think
of a carpenter who came to your house without tools,
and had to ask the loan of some ? or a doctor who forgot
his prescription-hook or his medicines, and had to lose time
and pains until he could send around to an acquaintance
and procure others, while his patient. was waiting to lie re-
lieved? Have your tools, girls, and keep thrm in ordrr,
and, if you must sometimes lend, exact a speedy return,
politely and gently, but firmly, for we must sometimes insist
on our rights, and then just as firmly resolve not to borrow
unless the circumstances are exceptional. Have your own
tools.
SCHOOL-BOOKS should be laid aside as you leave them
for other and more advanced books, neither given away
nor parted with out of the family, though you may allow a
younger sister or brother to use them, if you choose. By-
and-by you may he glad to have your school-books to refer
to, and you will find that they are as useful as much larger
volumes, and easier to keep at hand; they have been pre-
pared by learned and thoughtful experts, and have the
advantage of being carefully condensed. After your school-
life is over you will very much enjoy the possession of a
shelf full of text-books, once your daily companions.
YOUR teachers will tell you of histories, books of travel,
poems, and novels which they would like yon to read out-
side of your regular work. Time spent in this svaj is rerj
pleasant, so do not- shirk your supplementary reading.
Do not, in fact, shirk anything. School days are such
happy days thnt they ought to he free from any omissh.n-
of which conscience will have a right to complain.
YOUR dearest friend, and the next and next dearest, an-
at school with > on, ami what pleasures yon share, what
ambitious, what confidences ! Do not let any stupid person
laugh at you for bring enthusiastic about your friend -.
you have a beautiful time with her, and she has with you
and if any one makes fun of it, she shows that she has
r..rv,<.tten how girls feel. Mothers nc\er eonsider then-
da lighter's friendships as mailers of small importance, and
usually they love Maivia's an. I K. lull's friends almost as
dearly as the girls themselves do. Re sure to ha\e friends
whom you are proud to introduce to the dear mother. \\ ho
is a girl's very truest friend, \\hen all is said.
MAY I SI-KAK to you now about something else .' All this
summer I have been travelling twice a day on a suburban
train. Early in the morning I have left the beautiful
mountains, and, whirling through pleasant villages and
thriving towns, finally skirting lo\e]y meadows and nroad
marsh-lands, I have come to this busy, bustling city ol'N'ew
York. In the afternoon I have gone back over the same
way, leavingthe city behind me. and returning to the beau-
tiful country in the hills in time to see the lingering sun-
set. From day to day, through the car windows, I have.
had glimpses of the most beautiful (lowers. This morning
the meadows and swamps were gorgeous with the bloom
of the marshmallow — a vivid, blushing pink. I have never
seen so many wild roses hi my life as this summer, nor such
acres of daisies in the day of them, and now the whole
country is gay and glowing with our beautiful American
flower, the golden-rod. My views through the ear win-
dows have been charming, but inside the car I have some-
times observed what was very much less pleasant to see.
For example, on a warm afternoon a young girl will calmly
take a whole seat, when she is entitled only to half of it,
piling her bags and bundles on the other half, on the shady
side of the car too j then, becoming absorbed in a hook, she
will pay no heed to the needs of other people, who have to
seat themselves in the sun. The other day a girl persisted
in keeping a window open, though this was evidently to
the great discomfort of an elderly gentleman, unmistakably
an invalid, who was sitting quite near. Do not let us fail
in small courtesies on the road of life. We shall be much
happier at the end of the day if we have always been polite
and kind to every one whotu we have met.
ON
BOARD THE ARK.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTER VI.
NONE of the animals paid the slightest attention to
Tommy and the ex-Pirate when they came dow n from
their uncomfortable perch on the rafter, and strolled about
the big room. The Gopher, probably emboldened by his
neighbors' action, descended too, a ml mingled with the other
beasts. But, for some reason, he managed to remain within
sight of Tommy and the ex-Pirate, so that if anything had
happened to him he could have run to them for protection
or assistance. Occasionally he joined them and coin, rsi •!
for a few moments, and then he would wander off again by
himself.
"I guess they take us for a pair of animals." obsi m .1
Tommy, as he glanced about at the peaceful beast.-.
"Some new kind," he added.
"That must he it," said the ex-Pirate, absent-mindedly :
" but I wish we could find the Sheep."
" In this crowd ?" exclaimed the Gopher, who came up at
that moment. " Why, that's like looking for a beetle in a
smoke-stack."
The three walked along for some time iu silence, and
they saw all sorts of queer things as they went. In a re-
tired corner the Hippopotamus was shaving himself with
a razor-backed Hog, much to the displeasure of the II..",.
who kept up a perpetual snorting and grunt inu. N.
an old mother Pig was putting her little Pigs' tails up in
curl-papers for the night. Further along the Armadill
the Turtles, the Hedgehog, and the Porcupine squatted c
919
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
'THEY WON'T LET HIM PLAY BECAUSE HE'S A CHEETAH.'
the floor together, •were playing dominoes. A Leopardlike
creature sat near by watching the game, looking very much
disappointed aud mournful.
"They won't let him play," volunteered the Gopher,
"because he's a Cheetah."
All this time there was much bustle and preparation
going on in the middle of the hall. The Monkey tribe, of
which there must have been a hundred, were bringing up
tables and stools and benches from down below some-
where, aud were stretching these out the entire length of
the big room. Tbey made a banqueting board much
longer than Tommy had ever seeu before, aud then they
laid plates and mugs along the edges, enough to accommo-
date all. The Monkeys made first-rate waiters, and the
big Gorillas bossed them around, and kept them working
"just like real waiters in a restaurant," thought Tommy.
"There's tbe Sheep!" shouted the ex-Pirate, suddenly,
and he pointed out their old friend sitting on a bench about
a third of the way down from the head of the long table.
They hastened toward him, followed by the Gopher, who
was doubtless afraid of being crowded out, for the animals
were taking seats rapidly.
The Sheep was overjoyed when the ex-Pirate sat down
beside him, and he moved up closer to his neighbor on the
other side so as to make room for Tommy aud the Gopher.
The little boy sat on the bench with the ex-Pirate on his
left, and the Gopher on a high stool at his right. The Lion
aud Lioness occupied the head of the table, some distance
away, and the Bull sat at the foot.
" I have been looking all over for yon," began the Sheep,
"but you were so well concealed I could not find you.
When- did yon pick up that Gopher ?"
" Oh, lie's all right," answered the ex-Pirate. " He's got
his ticket in.-idr."
The Gopher almost fell oft" his stool. He whispered to
Tommy, "Tell him not to talk about my ticket."
But before Tommy could deliver the message, the Monk-
eys began bringing the soup in on trays, and placed a plate
full in front of each one at table. The Gopher seized his
plate and lifted it greedily to his face and swallowed all at
one gulp. Then he threw the plate under the table, and
began snapping his fingers londly,just as if he had not
been served at all.
" You must uot do that," remonstrated Tommy.
"Oh yes, I must," said the Gopher. Aud then he held
up both hands and
snapped all fingers.
"What dreadful table
manners the Gopher has,"
said the little boy to the
ex-Pirate. "Did you see
what he did ?"
" Yes." answered the
latter. " It was very rep-
reheusible. Worse than
anything I ever saw.
Worst- than the liishop
of Shinnikoree."
" The Arch - Bishop,"
put in the Sheep.
" Arch - Bishop no-
thing," retorted the ex-
Pirate. "He was only a
Bishop."
" But ho is an Arch-
Bishop »!««'," persisted
the Sheep.
"He's dead now," retort-
ed the ex-Pirate.
" Yes ; and they carved
him in stone, and put him
up over the entrance of
the Cathedral, and so be
is an Arch-Bishop, aiu't
he?"
" Well, I suppose so.
Anyhow, he was mighty
queer at table."
"You never told -me about the Bishop before," said
Tommy.
"I know it," answered the ex-Pirate. "But if I had
the third volume of my collected poems here, I could read
to you about him. He was dreadful. Worse than the
Gopher."
"Can't you remember about him?" pleaded the little
boy.
" Part, I guess. Let me see," aud the ex-Pirate reflected
in silence for a moment. Then he began :
u There once was a Bishop
Whu tossed every dish up
The moment lie sat down to table;
At juggling with plates
Full of apples and dates
He was really exceedingly able.
" He would stand on his head
When he buttered his bread,
And his neighbors he gayly would banter,
While he gave a wild whoop
At the sight of pea soup
Which was served in a cut-glass decanter.
" With fish-balls and prunes,
And fresh macaroons,
The Bishop was likewise quite clever;
To pile them up high,
And swallow them dry,
Was his constant consistent endeavor.
" He could drink salad oil
By the pint, and not spoil
The perfect success of digestion ;
And having well dined,
And copiously wined,
He could turn a handspring without question."
" Goodness," commented Tommy. " Where did you say
he bishoped?"
"At Shiuuikoree," answered the ex-Pirate.
"I did uot hear that last verse," broke in the Gopher,
swallowing his sixth plate of soup. "Can't you recite it
again ?"
•• No, I cannot," replied the ex-Pirate, severely. " If you
don't look out I'll write a piece about you."
This seemed to frighten the Gopher, for he snapped his
fingers again and took another plate of soup.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
920
*INTERSCHOEASTIC&
LAST WEEK THIS DEPARTMENT DISCUSSED the preparatory
•work and training of football-players ; in this issue I want
to speak briefly of team-play. The American game has
now become such that team-work is its most important
feature. Brilliant individual players are valuable, and ev-
ery captain should bo glad to have as many as he can get ;
but I should much prefer to captain an eleven made up
of inferior players who worked well together, than a team
of brilliant individuals who played each for himself.
Walter Camp says that " team-work is the road to victory,"
and he ought to know. It is plain that if yon have eleven
men working as one, and directing all their force against a
single point, you have a much more formidable engine than
if the individuals making up the team are doing their best
according to their own conceptions of the requirements of
the situation.
THERE is A GREATER OPPORTUNITY for team-work in de-
fensive than in aggressive play. The former aft'ords an
excellent, chance for the placing of the men so that they
can concentrate their efforts to the best advantage in the
resistance of the opponents' play. The captain decides be-
forehand who shall go through to tackle behind the line,
who shall wait to see where the ball is coming through,
and then block the runner, who shall wait back of the line
as a reserve force, only to act if the ball is carried into
his territory. There is also always plenty of opportunity
for team-play in the working together of several rush-line
men in the defense, as, for instance, when two or three
block off the attack's interference while another tackles
the man with the ball.
THE BEST TEAM-WOHK in the rush-line, however, is to be
obtained by the playing together of the centre and his two
guards. It is absolutely necessary that these men should
act like a machine, with precision and celerity, for they are
the keystone of the whole team. They should
not only have a perfect understanding among one
another, but with the men behind them. They
must watch the opposing backs, and try to let their
own rear men through upon them wherever a cer-
tain defense for certain plays may seem best.
The ends and tackles form another division of the
rush-lini- which acts as a unit. It is the business
of these men to stop the runs around the ends, of
course, but now that the development of the game
has brought in so many rushes through the line,
between tackle and end, or tackle and guard, tin-
four end men must play into one another's hands
in the tackling of opponents and in the blocking
of holes that the men opposite are trying to make.
THE MEN HACK OF THE LINE must also have a
perfect understanding among themselves as to
what each one will do in certain emergencies. As
in chess, they must have one or more "defenses"
for known attacks, and they must know which one
of these defenses it is best to use under given
conditions. The backs supplement the work of
the for wards in defensive play against rush-line
work, but the conditions are reversed in resisting
a kick. Against a kick the backs are the main de-
fense— that is, the team as a whole depends upon
one of the four men back of the line to make the
next play, and each man of the four must know
as soon as the kick is made which one is to get
the ball. In the defense against a kick, therefore,
the rushers supplement the work of the backs.
WHEN I SAY THAT THE IJUSH-UNE supplements the work
of tin1 backs, I do not mean that their efforts are to be
considered in any way secondary. At the beginning of a
kick play it has been their work to hold the opposing line
as long as possible in order to keep the attacking forwards
off their own men, who are engaged in receiving and hand-
ling the kick. Frequently the ends take an important
part in the defense against a kick by coming back with
their opponents, bothering them as much as possible, and
being always ready to block or interfere for their own back
should he see a good opportunity open for a run.
Now THAT THE RULES have been amended so as to re-
quire actual kicks, it is interesting to note some of the new
plays that have been adopted to give the rushers the op-
portunity to get possession of the ball again as quickly as
possible. Last year the big college teams tried all sorts
of expedients to achieve this end. One method put to the
test was to kick the ball against the opponents with suffi-
cient force to insure its bounding back out of the immedi-
ate reach of the man whom it struck. This method, al-
though it sometimes worked, is hardly a satisfactory one,
ami will probably be used only as an occasional trick in
unimportant games this year. Another experiment was a
rolling kick between the rushers, but in a diagonal direc-
tion so extreme as to give an eud or a tackle a chance of
securing it.
IN THE SAME MANNER a diagonal kick, short, over tin-
heads of the first men of the opponents, was exploited by
some of the adventurous captains. But toward the end of
the season the problem narrowed itself down to a question
of the relative value of a/kick, short enough, and in a suf-
ficiently high slanting direction, to enable the rushers to
get fairly well down to its falling-point, and a long kick
driving the opponents back, admitting, it is true, of a run
THE \VE1H.; K FORMATION.
921
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
in because the rushers cannot reach the dropping-point iu
time to down the mail receiving the ball. Both methods
found strong advocates, and were used iu about equal pro-
portions.
AND THEN AS TO THE RETURNING of the kick. Until the
rules were changed " returning a kick " meant catching the
punt -of an opponent, and, without stopping for a down,
pnntiug it back again before the opponents could prevent.
Naturally this was. among the big teams, much more talk
than practice, for it was a rare exception when such an
opportunity offered. With the new kick-off, however, there
is certainly an excellent chance for a return kick. A man
can make the most of his run in, and just before the op-
ponents meet him he can get iu his kick, if that is his play.
ANOTHER INTERESTING MATTER is the distribution of the
men on the line-up for the kick-off, and it gives ample room
for the ingenuity of coaches and captains. One effective
placing of the men is this :
o C
LG O
O RG
LT O
O RT
OQB
i, i:
o
HB
F B
O
H B
ORE
As the ball comes sailing over, the forwards swing into its
direction, and become most effective running interference
for whichever back catches aud runs with the ball. This
play, if frequently practised, can be made very effective.
IN DEFENSIVE TEAM-WORK one of the most important
things — uext to watching the ball, of course — is for every
man to try to discover what play the opposing eleven is
going to make next. Having found what it will probably
be, their endeavor must be to throw their wbole force
against it. It is frequently possible to determine not only
what the enemy's probable move will be, but exactly what
it will be. This can most frequently be done by noting
how the half-backs stand, or how the quarter-back is stand-
ing or looking. Men will unconsciously glance in the di-
rection tbey are about to run. If a rusher is to take the
ball, it is easier to uote that fact than when the leather is
going to a half-back, because the rusher is bound to a»nnic
a somewhat different position from that he would take if
he were only going to block, or make a hole, or break
through.
As SOON AS THE CAPTAIN or any other player discovers,
or feels reasonably confident that he has discovered, what
the next play of the opposing team is going to be, he should
impart the information to the rest of the team. He should
try to do this as secretly as possible, however, or else the
opponents will have time to change their signal and make
an entirely different advance. It is in a case like this that
quick work counts, for if yon line up aud give your signal
quickly the opposing players can scarcely have time to no-
tice the many little points that give away the next move,
and so it is harder for them to meet it.
QUICK PLAY is ESSENTIAL to successful aud effective
team-work. After a scrimmage aud a tlown, play should
begin at ouce, i.e., just as soon as the centre can secure the
lull. Every man in the rush-line aud all the backs should
be in their positions without the slightest loss of time after
they are sure the man who was running is down, and all
should be alert for the signal for the next play, which is
given during the line-up. Nothing should ever be allowed
to interfere with this rapid resumption of positions except
a serious injury, and then the injured player should call to
his captain for time. Any delay,even by one man, might
spoil the next play, aud thus injure the chances of the
whole team.
AND NOW FOR A FEW WORU.S about aggressive play. Iu
this, team-work is fully as important as in the defense, and
in some cases more so. With the majority of football elev-
ens team-work iu aggression is much better doue and more
fully developed than in defensive play, but it is the team
that can offer the best organized defense — all other things
being equal — that will stand the better chance of success.
The chief aggressive move now in use, aud the one thai has
been most widely adopted by football-players in the past
five years, is the- interference wedge. This play reached
such a stage of development iu Harvard's Hying wedge,
three years ago, that it was the main cause for the latr.st
revision of the rules of the game. But the old interference
wedge is a perfectly legitimate football formation, aud can
be made effective without being dangerous.
Tun FORMATION OF THE MEN for this play, as every one
knows, is that of a V, with the point directed toward the
opposing line. The man who is to run with the ball stands
inside the two walls of humanity formed by his mates, and
it should be his endeavor to keep on running even after
the original wedge formation has been destroyed by the
resistauco of the opponents. The latter, of course, never
know what the runner's intention may be, whether tu rush
out at the apex, or through one of the sides, or to dodge
out backwards aud attempt a long run around the end.
Consequently they cannot devote their entire force toward
one point, and the possibilities of gaiuiug ground are thus
increased iu the favor of the ruuuer.
IT is NOT WELL, HOWEVER, for the ruuuer to use his
own discretion as to the manner in which he shall escape
from the wedge after it has come against the opposing
line. Team-work is invariably injured and weakened when
one player holds discretionary power in a mass play. It
is best to decide beforehand where the runner will break
through, aud have it understood by two of the rushers that
they are responsible for a hole. Of course, the ruuuer should
not always pass out between the same pair. There should
be variations in the play, and the Captain should decide
when the line-up is made just which hole to use, judging
of this from the appearance of the opposite line-up, and
selecting the point of egress where he thinks there will be
the weakest resistance. As a rule, it is best to use the
wedge only when the opponents are restrained from ad-
vancing, as iu the kick-off, the kick-out, and after a fair
catch, but some of the larger college teams have of late
beeu adopting the trick after ordinary downs. In the
Harvard-Yale game of 1891, Yale, with the score 12 to 0
against her. worked a wedge from the middle of the field
to the goal-line and scored. Every play was a wedge that
pouuded the Harvard centre, and won a few feet each time,
and at the ten - yard line the quarter- back, instead of
pounding, as he had beeu for twenty minutes, ran back and
went around the end for a touch-down. But such continual
wedging as that should be adopted only in the most des-
perate, case, and could never be successful except when
played by a thoroughly disciplined team in the best of
physical condition. Even so, it was a severe strain on the
players' staying powers.
A WELL-FORMED WEDGE is bound to make some gain for
the side using it, but there are many ways of meeting the
play. The most simple, and the one which is probably
used more than any other, is that of lying down before it.
There is nothing very scientific about this kind of defense,
but it has the compensating advantage of effectiveness iu
most cases. It prevents any further advance of the mass,
for the men at the peak are forced to fall over their pros-
trate opponents. The danger of using too many men for
this sort of blocking, however, is that should the runner
escape through a hole in the side, or at the opening iu the
rear, there are few players left to tackle him.
THERE ARE THE BACKS, of course, upon whom this duty
of tackling the runner should devolve, but rapid aud judi-
cious interference at the proper moment may overcome
their ettorts, and give to the eueuiy a clear field. Perhaps
the safest way to meet an on-coming wedge is to try to
force the peak — that is, to so concentrate your resistance as
922
HAKPER'S BOUND TABLE
to change the course of the aggressors and
drive them across the field. They are thus
exerting just as much of their strength as
if they were advancing, and yet are gaining
little or no ground. Some of the other
methods 1 have seen used are breaking iuto
the peak by main strength (and this is the
method usually adopted against a weaker
team); and sending a man over the heads
of the loaders, a kind play of which Heffel-
n'uger of Yale was the best exponent.
THE BEST TEAM-PLAY to defeat the object
of a kick is still a matter of dispute. There
are so many possibilities in the case and so
many different directions for the ball to
take that, after all, no method can be deter-
mined iipnn beforehand as the best defense.
But every team should be provided with
several moves for snch occasions, and as
usual it devolves upon the captain to decide
which play to put in operation.
A VERY GOOD WAY is to send one or two
extra men up into the forward line (the
quarter-back and a half-back, preferably),
and then to attack the kicking side at any
point along which the ball travels in its
course. In other words, put as many men
forward as you cau with the object of secur-
ing the ball as soon after it is put into play '
as possible — while it is being snapped bark
to the quarter, while it is on its way to the
half, while the half is catching it, while he
is preparing to kick, while lie is kicking,
and just as it leaves his foot.
IF THE KICK is SAFELY MADE, every en-
deavor should go toward neutralizing its
effect. This cau be done by good and rapid
team-play only, for, after all, the longest kick
is of no great avail to your opponent unless
he can keep the ball in the territory he has
sent it into. The tirst thing to do, there-
fore, to neutralize his attack is to stop the
opposing ends who are following the ball,
and the next- important thing is to give full
and perfect protection to your own man,
who is receiving the ball. It depends upon
the style of the kick, however, as to which
of these two moves is of the greatest im-
portance, for if the kick is a high one little
can lie done against the on-coming ends, and
every effort should be made to protect the,
catcher. Ou the other hand, if the kick is
a long aud low one, the catcher will need
less protection, and more men cau be spared
to head off the advance, of the opposing
rush-line.
THE FINAL POINT of the play is the re-
turn of the ball, ami on the quickuess and
coolness of the back depends its success.
As a rule it is better for him to run with the
ball, for the field is scattered with players,
and comparatively clear, and by running
the side retains possession of the ball and
the chance to make one or more attacking
moves that may end iu a full recovery of
the ground covered by the opponents'
kick.
THE
This D,,|> irtm.-rit is i ..n. hi, I, !
collectors, and the E,m,,r »-ill In- ,,l,...|-.,l
these subjects so I'm , '' Trespunilelits should «,Mn
Stamp Department.
"You ought to be ashamed to ride that
wheel/'
•• Why ? That's what it's made for."
"Can't yon see that it's 'tired'?"
states that only 73* U.S.
silver dollars were coined in 1894, and that
it bids fair to rival its hundred-year older
brother (1794) in rarity and value.
The National Bank-Note Company print-
ed all the U. S. stamps from 1870 to 1872.
In 1873 they turned over all the plates to
the Continental Bank-Note Company which
printed the U.S. stamps until the formation
of the American Bank -Note Company in
1879. To distinguish the stamps printed
by them, the Continental Company placed
secret marks on probably every plate, al-
though there is still some doubt as to the
secret marks on the 15c. and 30c. stamps.
The distinguishing marks are as follows:
1 CENT. — A minute dash with ends up-
turned placed in the
pearl at the left of
the numeral of value.
Proof specimens show
.•i faint trace on the
ball to the right of the numeral. The halls
iu the original are all white.
2 CENTS. — The white line which encloses
the words " U. S. Pos-
tage" turns up in a,
ball on each side ; the
ball above the " U " in-
terrupts four shading
lines of the frame, the "mark" closes up
the iuuer space aud leaves it solid, while iu
the original it is opeu.
3 CENTS. — The ribbou inscribed jvith the
value has the border
where it is turned
under at the left side
made dark: in the
original it has a white
edge surrounding it.
6 CENTS. — The ribbon inscribed with
the value has four
dark lines of shading
where it turns under
at the left side; in
the original these
lines are much shorter and thiner.
7 CENTS. — The angles of the ball in the
right low er eoi n. i of
frame, arc' capped by
a. minute senile
of colcii- ; in i lie ori-
ginal IPO! h lo\\ c i col
in rs are 1 he same-.
Ill t'r.XTs. -The label containing the- in-
scription "II. S. Pos-
tage " is bordered
\\ilh a white' line
which turns up in a
ball at each end.
That at 1 lie right encloses a minute semi-
circular marls : on the original the- hall is
white on each side.
la CENTS. — The
ligmv y at the tin n
encloses a colored
clot ab,,\e and be-
low; the 01 ii:
d t show color.
24 CENTS.— The last of the half -circle of
thirteen stais ha».
the- .shading of the
four lower points
deepened; in the
original the shading
is equal throughout, and the same as on the
other stars.
90 CENTS. — The shading of the four low-
er IMlilltsof the 1 iullt-
hand star has been
ih e|,eiied ; iu the
original both stars
an1 shaded the same'.
15 CENTS. — The secret mark on this value
has not yet been satisfactorily identified.
Some think that the mark lies in the outer
lines of the triangle at the lower left cor-
ner, as some of the Continental printed
stamps show a much hea\ ier shading on the
enclosing lines than is to be found in the
National printed stamps.
30 CENTS. — Also doubtful. Some- claim
that there is a little dot to the' left of the
oval frame, but this is probably only a i
fer guide.
One dealer in New York supplies four
varieties of the lc., two of the- -.V.. tin., of
the 3c., three of the 6c.. t AC, of the 7. . three
ol lhc> 10c., and two of the r.'e.. nineteen
varieties in all. including the ie engra ed
stamps for S3 25.
M. C. H.— The best way to detach stamps from en-
velopes is to wet them thoroughly, when they can
readily be taken off.
J. T. DKLANO, JUN.— The coins are worih f:u-e value
only.
Tun Air-.
Highest of all in Leavening Strength. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Baking
Powder
ABSOLUTELY PURE
HARI'RR'S M:W CAP VI Hi J I
Thoroughly revised, classified,. iml indexc
by mailt,oany address on receipt of ten cents.
HAEPEE'S EOUND TABLE
Bjcyc/e foufc.
Fair bicycle
Rai/way sfafion.
Hilt or poor road
Hotel.
BICYCLING
This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will be pleased to
answer any question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly
supplied from the official maps and ruad-books of the League of American Wheelmen. Recog-
nizing thy value of the work beinp done by the L. A. W., the Editor will be pleased to furoiflh
subscribers with membership blanks and informatioa so far aa possible.
/"CONTINUING the two-days trip out of Philadelphia into
\^J New Jersey to Vineland, we start from Salem, where
we stopped last week, and where the bicyclist stops for the
Tiight. From Salem the best route is the shortest. Moving
southward out of the village from the Nelson House, you
keep generally to the left, and run out over a straight road,
over a gravel road in very good condition, to Qiiinton.
Thence crossing the track, keep always on the main road,
turning neither to the left nor right, though the direction
is generally to the right immediately after crossing the
track. From Qninton it is smooth sailing along a straight
road past Bordens Hill into Shiloh. As shown on the map,
you come into a road running into Shiloh from the north
just by the town, and should turn right into this, being
careful to keep to the left again at the meeting of several
roads in the village. From this point the road is again
direct to Bridgeton. The distance from Salem to Bridge-
ton is seventeen miles, and the road is all the way as good
as a gravel road can well be. It is kept in good condition
also, and if you do not have a strong wind against you,
you are pretty sure to have a capital run.
IF DESIRED, A STOP can be made at the Cumberland
House in Bridgetou for lunch and a short rest, though the
whole run to Vineland is riot a long one to take at one
stretch. On leaving Bridgeton, take the turnpike direct to
Millville, a distance of eleven miles. It is a good road-bed,
but not a particularly interesting road so far as scenery
goes. Still, it is the shortest and best road to Millville,
though hardly the shortest way to go to Vineland. The
admirable condition of the road is enough to persuade many
to go that way. From Millville to Viueland is a distance
of six miles, also along a capital road, side paths being, of
course, taken where possible.
THE SHORTER ROUTE runs out of Bridgeton on the road
to Finlr.v. but the rider should turn oft' to the right shortly
after crossing the railway about three miles out from
Bridgeton, and keeping on into Pleasant Grove. Thence
he continues to Eosenhayn and Bradway. Keeping to the
left of Bradway, the best road-bed is found by keeping on
towards the northeast, as shown on the map, until a fork —
a meeting of roads — is reached just out of Mill Road. Here
a very sharp turn is made to the right, and in less than a
mile yon come to the main road into Mill Road, whence the
direction is straight into Viueland. The Baker House is a
good stopping-place at Vinelaud, and the second night can
be comfortably spent there. On the following day a run
can be made into Philadelphia direct, or the wbeelmnn can
take a train back if ho docs not want to risk the chance of
poorer roads. This whole run, as has been said, can be made
in one day, since it is only sixty-two miles by the, shortest
and sixty -six miles by the Millville routes from Phila-
delphia. It is a pretty run through picturesque country,
and makes one of the best trips out of Philadelphia. There
an- many other attractive trips out of Philadelphia, but it
will lie necessary for us now to move on towards Boston, and
give some runs in and around that city. We shall begin
next week, therefore, by starting from Stamford, Connecti-
cut, anil moving on towards Boston in easy stages.
NOTK —Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of
route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
Connecticut, in No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New
Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. S13. Brooklyn in No. 814.
Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816.
Tarrvtown to Ponglikeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in
No 818 Hudson to Albany in No. 819. Tottenville to Trenton in S2p.
Trenton lo Philadelphia in 821. Philadelphia in No. S22. Philadelphia
— Wiswihickon Rojite in No. 823. Philadelphia to West Chester in No.
824 "Philadelphia to Atlantic City— First Stage in No. 828 ; Second
Stage in No. 826. Philadelphia to Salem in No. 827
Copyright, 1S95, by Harper & Brothers.
924
HAEPEE'S ROUND TABLE
Any questions in reRurd t
answered by the Editor of this
from any of our club who can
photograph matters will be willingly
column, and we should be glad to hear
make helpful suggestions.
SOME SUMMER USES FOR BLUE PAPER.
BLUE paper is so easily made, and the
materials are so cheap, that one can use
a great deal of it and still not go to much
expense.
Nothing is better for a photographic out-
ing than the blue paper. The materials
•can be carried dry and made up as needed,
all that is necessary being to mix them with
clear water. Any good unglazed paper can
be used for the solution, though, of course,
the photographic papers are the best.
Blue prints do not curl or exhibit any of
the disagreeable traits of other sensitive
papers, and therefore are specially fine to
.illustrate letters or journals, and being so
cheap can be used profusely.
Letter-paper may be sensitized, and a pic-
ture printed at the top, making a very at-
tractive and original letter-head. Use im-
glazed writing-paper, ami sensitize a strip
at the top a little larger than the picture to
be printed on it. As all the sensitizing so-
lution not exposed to the light washes off
when placed in water, cover all parts of t hr
paper to which it has been applied while
printing. After printing put the whole
sheet in the water and wash till clear.
After it is washed, blot off the superfluous
•moisture, and place the prints between cli-an
sheets of white paper, and put them under
a press till dry. A letter-press is the best.
though it must not be screwed down too
tight. Several heavy books, a box half full
of stones, or a smooth board with several
stones laid on top make good presses.
Impressions of wood treasures may be
taken on bine-print paper. The printiug-
fraine must have a clear glass which just tits
it. On this clear glass lay whatever flower,
leaf, spray of which yon desire to make the
outline. Put a sheet of blue paper over it,
aud expose to the sun till the paper is slight-
ly bronzed. Wash in several changes of
water and dry.
When dry take a fine brush and a cake
of French bine water-color and trace the
veins of the leaf or flower in the outline.
Moths and butterflies can be photographed
in this way. Lace patterns can be printed
on bine paper. Designs for fancy or needle
work can be made with leaves aud flowers
oil blue paper, and are much prettier than
those bought in shops, besides being true to
Nature. If one has not the gift or ace .....
plishmeut of drawing, this is an excellent
way to make patterns, and they are sure to
be correct.
Two formulas have been given in these
columns for bine prints. We add one more :
No. 1.
Citrate of iron aud ammouiii ........ 178 oz.
Water .............................. 8 "
No. 2.
Red prassiate of potash ... . . 1 7-S oz.
Water ............................... S
The iron mixture may be made up. and
will keep for a long time. The potash mix-
ture will not keep over live or six days.
Place the paper on a flat board and dampen
it with a sponge. Turn equal parts of each
mixture into a saucer, mix thoroughly, and
apply to the paper with a flat brush. A
letter -copying brush is the best kind of
brush, as it is broad aud soft. Put on just
enough to cover the paper evenly without
streaking it. As soon as the solution has
set, hang the paper up to dry. It should
dry quickly, for if it is a long time in drying
it will be streaked.
SIR KNIOHT MAOM. TOWNEE writes that a short time
ago he made some blue -print paper from directions
given in the Camera Club, and \vhen finished ttie paper
was yellow, with blue spots in it, and usks what is the
reason. The trouble is in preparing the solution.
Mix the two solutions thoroughly before using, arid
apply lightly and evenly. Sir Kenneth says he pre-
pared the paper by lamp-light, though the directions
did no tell whether to do so or not. Referring to the
copy — No. 797 — which contains the directions for blue
prints, we find it reads, " The paper must be sensitized
by gas or lamp light, and dried in adark room." "To
sensitize," means to apply the solution to the paper.
If Sir Kenneth has any more trouble in preparing his
paper, he is requested to send a sample to the Camera
Club. The phiin salted paper which Sir Kenneth asks
where to buy can be obtained of any dealer in photo-
graphic goods, or if he does not have it in stock, he
will order it. It should he freshly salted.
» * *
Natural History Morsel.
Have you ever noticed the caterpillar as it spins
its tiny web from the branches of trees, descending
as the web is completed to the ground and return-
ing by its newly made ladder? If you have never
noticed it, you would be well paid to watch cater-
pillars in their work. I have spent a great deal of
time watching them, and find them an interesting
study. I would like to have a few foreign corre-
spondents, and have stamps to trade.
Cms«n, N. J. CHARLES E. ABBEY, K.T.K.
FEED THEM PROPERLY
and carefully : reduce the painfully large percentage
of infant mortality. Take no chauces and make no
experiments in this very important matter. The Gai!
Borden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk has saved thou-
sands of little lives.— [A dv.]
ADV BiRXISKMENXS.
There are two
classes of bicycles—
COLUMBIAS
and others
Columbias sell for $100 to everyone
alike, and are the finest bicycles the
•world produces. Other bicycles sell
for less, but they are not Columbias.
POPE MFG. CO., HARTFORD, CONN.
You See Them
Everywhere
Walter Bauer & Go. Limited,
The LtrgMt Manufacturer! of
PURE, HIGH GRADE
COCOAS ^ CHOCOLATES
On thii Continent, have received
HIGHEST AWARDS
from the great
Industrial and Food
EXPOSITIONS
IN EUROPE AND AMERICA.
f ai>4inn • In view of the
caution . miny iTniution.
of the label • and wripp*n on our
(roods, consumers thould make rure
.that our place of manufacture,
'namely, Dorchester, Jil u«*.
it printed on each package.
SOLD BY GROCERS EVERYWHERE.
WALTER BAKER A CO. LTD. DORCHESTER, MASS.
Constable <^v3 Co
Novelties in Lace
Gau{e Sr Chiffon Neckwear,
Marie Antoinette Fichus,
Mousseline de Sole, Batiste.
and Lace Collars.
OSTRICH BOAS
NEW YORK.
}pootagc Stamps, Src.
CT A MDO I 1:<>O fi)ic »''«d Victoria. Cape of G.
„. OlAIYIrO ! H.,liiiira,Japaii.etc..witlifineStainp
A Album, only JOc. New 80- p. 1'rice • list !>»•«-.
Si Jftur* Tinted at f.O* commission. STANDARD
TAMP CO.. 4 Nil hots 11 H.ite. Si. Louis. Mo. Old
S ;uul Confederate Stamps bought.
100 all dif. Venezuela, C'ostn I.
_ I0c.;ffliiiiill dif.Haytl,Hawaii,etc.,onlyBOc.
Wllilc! Ag'tswautedatBOperctcom. List!
C.A.Stegraann,2V2S K;i.l> Av.,st.Linii!..M ••.
Harper's Catalogue,
Thoroughly revised, classified, and in-
dexed, will be sent by mail to any ad-
dress on receipt of ten cents.
HAEPEE'S EOUND TABLE
Caring for Some of Our Pets.
Thfft question "Do rabbits drink water?" has
brought out much interesting discussion. It seems
that the idea they never drink is one of those er-
roneous notions that get into the popular mind
and never get out. We have to thank Agnes Palm
for her letter on the subject, and a San Francisco
member writes:
" Having been informed that rabbits required no
water. I failed to supply it to some pets that were
presented by a friend. They lived, but did not
thrive, and when the young ones came the mo-
ther rabbit became frantic, and killed two of the
baby rabbits, and acted like something insane with
distress and longing. I recalled seeing the men
run in great haste to give meat and drink to the
mother of little pigs, saying she had gone insane,
and was going to eat the little ones. Instead of
beating her, they fed and comforted her until she
became quiet and contented.
" I shall never forget with what great relief the
rabbits drank the water and milk that I gave them.
Thereafter I always kept them supplied with water,
and the rabbits never again killed the baby rab-
bits. AH animals require food, drink, and shelter,
and almost every pet will appreciate a comfortable
bed, and are not so different from ourselves in
needs as we sometimes think. Even the wildest or
most stupid can appreciate love. Would you have
your pets happy and contented? Love them, and
you will put a humanizing element into your care
that will react upon yourself. NELLIE ELLIS."
A Brand-new Game.
Here are the directions for playing balle-et-po-
teau, a modification of croquet :
Drive a croquet stake into the ground in some
level spot, and draw a circle around it having a
radius of two mallet lengths. Arrange six balls
around the stake, placing the remaining two, called
"marteaux," five mallet lengths from the ring.
Let the player who has first " heurt " drive his ball
toward those in the ring and endeavor to displace
them. If he touches one or more of the balls he is
entitled to another turn, and now tries to drive
one of the balls outside the ring, naming his choice
by color. If he succeeds in knocking out a ball,
he again tries, continuing to play until he fails to
touch a ball. The second player then drives his
ball toward the ring, having the further advantage
of hitting his opponent's marteau. Doing this, he
may, (1) if the other's marteau is within the circle,
knock the same outside, thereby gaining all his op-
ponent's balls ; (this play is called a " gagnant ").
or (2) he may make the usual croquet shots with
the ball.
The game is played until all the halls have been
knocked out, the player winning the game who
has the greatest number of balls in his possession.
The chief feature of the game, is- the ga^nant play.
To avoid being played upon in this manner, it is a
wise plan to place the stake between the two mar-
teaux. VINCENT V. II. BEEDE.
A Visit to Baden-Baden.
The most beautiful summer resort I ^iav^ seen
while travelling in Europe is Baden-Baden-, situ-
ated in the Black Forest. Many people go there,
one-fourth of whom are Americans. The air of
the pine forest is very healthy. It is said that the
climate in winter is very cold, so there are not
many foreigners; but in the summer it is lovely.
When you go walking in the woods you do not
notice you are climbing, as the roads are so well
kept.
M»st of the hotels are situated on the large
" Lichtenthaler Allee," which goes from the rail-
way station along the little river Oos to a village
called Lichtenthal. Every hotel has a small gar-
den in front, which is connected with the allee by
a small bridge crossing the river, so that the whole
place looks like one large garden. There are quite
a good many pretty villas on the hills and in the
town.
The forest deserves its name Black Forest, be-
cause the pine-trees stand so close together that
from a distance it looks as black as coal. The
prettiest walk near Badeu is near a lake In the
woods. On the way there one passes the Russian
church with its gilded domes. It is so pretty to
see the gold against the dark forest. You can see
the church from nearly all the surroundings of
Baden, and it often serves as a guide.
About twenty minutes' walk from the church is
the lake in the woods. When you reach it and are
tired of walking, there are plenty of benches to sit
down on and feed the swans. To go home you
have your choice between half a dozen roads, no
one prettier than the other. I found some little
American friends in Baden to play with, but no
members of the Round Table. I hope that some
members will go there and enjoy themselves as
much as I did. MAX LILIENTHAL, R.T.K.
WlLDUNGKN.
Prizes for Pen-drawings.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE wishes to have illus-
trated one of the stories to which it awards a
prize in its Story Contest ending January 1, 1896.
Do you want to try your hand ? $10 is offered for
the best illustration, and we will print it with the
story as soon as it can be suitably reproduced.
What is wanted is a pen-drawing that will be,
when printed, about 3% by 5 inches in size. It
should be drawn, therefore, 5 by 10 inches. Use
Bristol-board and India-ink. If you wish to sub-
mit a drawing, send to HARPER'S ROUND TABLE,
New York, previous to January 1, 1896, a written
request for, the story in proof. When you receive
the proof you select your own subject, make the
drawing in your own way, and return it with the
proof. If after you receive the proof you do not
wish to submit a drawing in the competition, you
simply tear up the proof. Competition is open to
those only who have not passed their eighteenth
birthday.
A Very Kind Offer.
Mr. Kirk Munroe, whose visit to Good Will Farm
has much aroused his interest in the Round Table
School there, offers to give a reading from his own
works in New York city toward the end of Novem-
ber, the exact date to be fixed later, the proceeds
to go toward the Fund.
Why can't we make this a memorable occasion?
Let us hear from New York, Brooklyn, Newark,
and all other near-by members. Where shall we
have this reception and reading? Will you help to
make it a success? We want the assistance of all
who live near enough to attend. Tell us if you
will help.
New Idea in Puzzles.
Are you familiar with the puzzles that have been
published in HARPEU'S ROUND TABLE? They have
been exceptionally good, and of many styles. A
new style of puzzle is wanted. That is, an idea in
puzzles that has not hitherto been used. We do
not mean new material in an old form, but a new
catch or form. If you cannot make the entire puz-
zle., write cfut the suggestion. $5 is offered for the
idea— the best one we receive, provided that it is
new. Competition open to anybody, any age.
Send suggestions, either by description or iu a puz-
zle, not later than December 1, 1895.
Special to all Readers.
It is desired to correct the records of the Order,
especially the addresses. We ask, therefore,
1. That Founders will send us their names and
addresses on a postal card, spelling out a first
name, printing all In English capitals, and adding
the word "Founder." Use simply the sign "A."
2. That all members will do the same, except that
'they will not use the word Founder. Remember
-that- you remain a Knight or Lady of the Order
even if, since becoming such, you have passed your
eighteenth birthday.
3. That persons over eighteen, not now members,
who wish our Order well, will send us names and
addresses, and receive a Patron Patent. Use sim-
ply the letter "D."
4. That members send us names and addresses
926
of friends whom they wish Patents for ; say wheth-
er such friends are over or under eighteen.
If you wish to distribute Round Table Prospec-
tuses, make the request on a separate postal card
from the one on which you ask for a new Patent.
Only one person may accept this offer in one town
or neighborhood. In applying say how many Pro-
spectuses you can place, whom you intend to give
them to, what are your facilities for giving them
out, and what prize you seek. The prizes are :
Bound volumes of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE for
1893 or 1894 ; gold badges of the Order ; packet of
fifty visiting-cards bearing your name, with the
plate for future use ; rubber stamps bearing your
name and address; pencils resembling a common
nail ; and silver badges of the Order.
These Prospectuses must not be thrown into
front yards, nor given out three or four to a family.
They must be given each to a different family, and
those families known by you to be such as are
likely to be interested in them. There may be de-
lay at times. If you do not receive a prompt
response to your request, do not write a second
time. A response will reach you as soon as possi-
ble.
All About Naval Apprentices.
Please tell me all about naval apprentices and
how to become one. GEORGE SYKES.
PLUM VALLKY, NEB.
Boys between the ages of fifteen and eighteen
years may enlist to serve in the navy until they
shall arrive at the age of twenty-one years. The
consent of parents or guardians, however, must
first be obtained. These boys, after being sworn
in, are sent on board of naval vessels and are care-
fully trained for the service of the navy. Before a
boy is accepted he is obliged to pass the examin-
ing board of officers, satisfying them that he is of
robust frame, intelligent, of good moral character
— for the navy is in no sense a reformatory — that
he has a perfectly sound and healthy constituti
and that he is able to read and write. The ele-
ments of an ordinary English education are given
the apprentices, and their professional studies em-
brace the knotting, splicing, hitching, and bending
of rope; fancy marlinespike seamanship; sewing
canvas ; bending, reefing, and furling sail ; the
names and use of the various gear in the way of
standing and running rigging ; and the manner in
which it should be set up and rove ; terms for the
different parts of the ship; military tactics; broad-
side exercise; rifle drill; the loading and firing of
the great guns, as well as the handling of smaller
pieces of ordnance, such as Hotchkiss and Gatling
guns, etc. Auxiliary to these studies the boys are
taught rowing and swimming.
Apprentices are enlisted as "third-class boys,"
and receive $9 50 per month. Their food is also
given to them; but their outfits of clothes, fur-
nished to them by the paymaster of the vessel
when they join, are charged against their accounts,
and they receive no money until the indebtedness
has been wiped out. While serving on board of
naval training vessels, apprentices may be pro-
moted to "second-class boys." and have their pay
increased to $11 50 per month, and when doing
duty on cruisers of the navy they are eligible to
higher ratings and pay as a reward of proficiency
and good conduct.
The highest rank that an apprentice my hope to
gain is that of warrant-officer, so that he cannot
look forward to a grade beyond that of gunner or
boatswain — the pay of which, however, reaches
81800 a year after a certain period of service.
Warrant-officers are, like all other officers of the
navy, retired after reaching the age of sixty-two
years, and a generous percentage of their active-
service salary is paid to them as long as they live.
Recruiting stations for apprentices are to be
found in New York, Philadelphia, and San Fran-
cisco, where boys may apply at any time. A'Mivss
"Recruiting Station for Naval Apprentices, Navy-
Yard." The naval school, known as the Naval
Academy, is situated at Annapolis, Md.. and is en-
tirely distinct from the apprentice branch of the
service. At the latter institution young men are
prepared to. become officers in the line and in the
engineer corps of the navy. During the war of
the rebellion the Naval Academy was temporarily
transferred to Newport in Rhode Island.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
S> IktltfiS.
No. 102.— RIGHT TRIANGLE.
All words begin and end with same letter.
1. „— A letter.
2 * * — A preposition.
3. * * *— To possess.
4. , * * s— A sign.
B. , * * * *— A vegetable.
6. * • * * * «— To continue in use.
7. ****** *— Notion.
8. *»,**** *— Act of blunting.
9. ******** * — Adverse reason.
in v v ******* * — Business.
11. ********** *— Display.
12. *********** *— Extinction.
ALBERT.
No. 103.— ZIGZAG.
If the cross-words— of equal length— are correct-
ly i;ii"ssed. the zigzag, beginning at the upper left-
hand runier. will spell the name of the eldest
dau^htff of the Emperor Arcadius (born A.D. 399).
CROSS-WORDS. — 1. A fruit. 2. To chew. 3. Burn-
ing. 4. To instruct. 5. A covered entrance. 6.
Slumber. 1. To compel. 8. An episcopal crown.
9. Starwurr
No. 104.— HOUR-OLASS.
1. To equalize. 2. Shy. 3. Fixed. 4. A letter.
5. A metal, 6. Ahorse. 7. Brought Into life.
The ceutrals give the name of a continent.
SIMON T. STERN.
No. 105.— THE SUPPER TABLE.
1. A convulsion of the lungs, and a reward.
2. A kind of deer, and a grain, served in a flat
form.
3. A kind of cutting and girls.
4. Natural jewel-boxes.
5. An unruly menilu-r.
6. A portion and a height.
7. Fireworks.
8. A billy-goat.
9. Earth and a useful toilet article.
10. Two-thirds of a small destructive animal, and
part of the table service.
11. A sailor's desire.
13. Counterfeit agony.
13. An island in the Atlantic.
14. Ghnvts.
15. A vessel, an article, and part of the foot.
16. A country in Europe.
17. One of Noah's sous.
18. A crowd.
19. Health-drinking.
20. Something occurring in baseball.
21. What every one walks on.
22. A pronoun and an ornament.
23. Something to which many martyrs were fast-
ened.
24. A flirt and the eighteenth letter. .
25. The bird which is afraid.
26. Fruit of a tree useful to our remote ancestors.
I. M. C.
Answers to Kinks.
No. 98.— FIRST CHRONICLES, xxxvi., 18.
At Parbar westward, four at the causeway, and
two at Parbar.
Warrant, stray, award, purchase, abaca, doubt,
father, wonted, pathway.
No. 99— A kiss.
A key.
No. 100.— A broom. No. 101.—
Questions ant> answers.
Joseph H. Durant : The new badges will be ready
about the middle of September, and an ru-Tirl*1
about the rearing, care, and training of pi^uus
will sunn be printed in the RODND TABLE. It will
be by Mr. Chase. Helen Hunt • Prizes for next
year will include amateur photography, pen-draw-
ing, story-writing, music-settings, nonsense verses,
poems, and puzzles Announcement of conditions
will be made as soon as possible.
IVORY 5 GAP
High priced toilet soaps cost more than the Ivory, not because the
soap itself is any better, but by reason of the expensive wrappings,
boxes and perfume. Then the profit on toilet soaps is much greater.
THE PROCTER ft GAMBLE Co., OiN'TI.
OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT °*theawa«i
CILLOTT'S PEN S -it the CHICAGO EXPOSITION.
A l\ A 1C II; " For excellence of steel used in their
manufacture, it bein^ tine irraim-d and elastic ; super-
ior workmanship, especially shown by the careful
grinding- which leaves tlir pens free from defects The
tempering ia excellent and the action of the finished
pens perfect." (Sijrned) FRANZ VOGT
I H. I. KIMBALL, Individual Judge
Approved:-f Preset Departmental Committee,
UOHN BOYD THAOHER,
Chairman Exec. Com. on Awards.
WONDER CABINET FREE. MiMlng Link
Puttie, Devil'a Bottle, Pocket Camera, L»t«f I
Wire Puczle, Spook Photos, Book of SloiRhtof
Hand, Total Value OOc. Sentfree with irncicnp*
catalogue of 1000 Ii&rgsiDBfor lOc. forpoHtai-e.
INGERSOLL& BRO., 05 Cortlnndt Street H. T.
i PERIODICUS.
Per Year:
HARPER'S MAGAZINE .......... Postage Free, $4 00
HARPER'S WEEKLY ............ 4 00
HARPER'S BAZAR .............. " 4 on
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE..., 200
Booksellers and Postmasters UMUill-rj receive subscrip-
tions. Subscriptions sent, direct to the publisher/
be accompanied by Post-nffice Money Order or Draft.
HARPER & BROTHERS. New York, N. Y.
Entertaining Books
BY THOMAS W. KNOX
The manner in which all these things are told is so bright and pleas-
ing that the boy reader may fancy that he is only following with delight-
ed attention the adventures of two boys like himself, when he is actually
becoming possessed of information which he will not easily forget.—
Boston Journal.
THE "BOY TRAVELLERS" SERIES
Copiously Illustrated. Square 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $3 oo per volume.
Adventures of Two Youths—
IN THE LEVANT.
SOUTHERN EUROPE.
IN
IN
IN
IN
IN
IN
CENTRAL EUROPE.
NORTHERN EUROPE.
GREAT BRITAIN AND
IRELAND.
MEXICO.
AUSTRALASIA.
ON THE CONGO.
IN THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE.
IN SOUTH AMERICA.
IN CENTRAL AFRICA.
IN EGYPT AND PALESTINE.
IN CEYLON AND INDIA.
IN SIAM AND JAVA.
IN JAPAN AND CHINA.
OTHER BOOKS BY COLONEL KNOX:
HUNTING ADVENTURES ON LAND AND SEA.
2 vols. Copiously Illustrated. Square Svo, Cloth, Ornamental. §2 =,< < c.
THE YOUNG NIMRODS IN NORTH
AMERICA.
THE YOUNG NIMRODS AROUND THE
WORLD.
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.
927
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
IN these days of bicycle mania all sorts of bicycle stories
are told, but this anecdote is said to be a true oue. A Chi-
cago lawyer named Harris had a case in a police court sit-
uated in one of the outlying districts of the city. He rode
to the court and left his wheel at the door, with a tag at-
tached to the handle bar, on which he wrote: " This bicycle
is the property of a legal gentleman who will lie back iu
twenty minutes." After losing his case before the. judge,
Mr. Harris came out to find that his bicycle \\as missing. ^
The tag hung from a nail on the wall near by, and beneath -
the lawyer's inscription was another : " To the legal gen-
tleman : Your wheel was taken by another gentleman who's
a ' scorcher.' He won't be back at all."
' Don't you think
"MY tooth aches awful," said Willie.
I'd better not go to school to-day ?"
"No, you needn't go to school. I'll take yon to the den-
tist instead, "said his mother.
" I think— I guess I — I'd better go to school after all,"
rejoined Willie. "The tooth aches, but — it don't hurt
any." ^
DON'T :
"I'M tired of 'dou'ts'," said Margaret B,
" Just as tired of ' dou'ts ' as I can be,
For it's ' don't' do this, and ' don't' do that,
' Don't ' worry the dog, ' don't ' scare the cat,
'Don't' be untidy, and 'don't ' be vain,
'Don't' interrupt, •don't' do it again,
'Don't' bite your nails, 'don't' gobble your food,
'Don't 'speak so loud, it's dreadfully rude,
'Don't' mumble your words, ' don't ' say 'I won't,'
Oh! all day long -it's nothing but 'don't'!
Some time or other I hope — ' don't ' you ? —
Some oue or other will say, 'Please DO'!"
HIS FIRST VIEW OF AN ELEPHANT.
BLDER BROTHER. " LOOK AT HIB TAIL, JIMMY, LOOK AT
IIIB TAIL!"
JIMMY. "Wuiou ONR, BOB; rue ONE BEFORE on DK ONE
HKHIND?"
CHANGING THE SUBJECT.
" FRANCES," said a mamma, severely, to her seven-year-
old daughter.
" Yes'm."
" Who made all these colored crayon marks on the par-
lor wall paper ?"
"Mamma," replied Frances, "did you know that Mrs.
Dicer called to see you while you were out ?"
"Frances, I want to know who put all those marks on
the parlor wall."
"Mamma, I think some of the little girls on this street
are very bad. Lucy Bunting ran oft" with my doll."
" Frances, I don't want to discuss Lucy Bunting. I \\ ant
to know who made all those dreadful marks, and spoiled
the wall paper."
" Mamma, you ought to have seen my little kitty run up
the tree just before you came home. She
went almost to the top."
"I don't care anything about the kitty,
Frances. What I want to know is about
this paper in the parlor, which is covered
with red and yellow marks."
" Mamma, what do you think would be a
nice birthday present for papa?"
" Now, Frances, listen to me ! Who made
those marks on the parlor wall ?"
" Oh, mamma," sobbed Frances, " why do
you keep talking about the parlor wall
paper when you see me trying so hard to
change the subject ?"
PAPA. "Who has put all these ink spots
on my desk ?"
BOBBY. "Why, papa, those are not ink
spots; it's a letter which I wrote to yon."
PAPA. "Jack, how did you get that lump
on your forehead ?"
BOBBY. "Jack hit me with a stick."
PAPA. " Did you strike him back ?"
BOBBY. "No."
PAPA. "That was quite right."
BOBBY. "Because I hit him first."
"WHAT makes the baby cry so?" asked
Willie.
" He's cutting his teeth," said the nurse.
"Why do yon let him do it?" asked Wil-
lir. "Yon won't even let me cut my own
nails."
A NATURAL INQUIRY.
BOBBIE. "\VII\T iiiiicK IT HOST TO MAKE A LETT KB uo ?"
POSTMAN. "Two HUNTS."
BOBBIE. "DON'T von TAKE 'KM FOR CHILDREN AT HALF PP.ICK?"
928
WILLIE (u-lm «•«-. trareUing alone fur I lie
first time, to eoiidiietor). " What is the mean-
ing of ' W ' and ' R' on the sign-posts along
the road ?"
CONDUCTOR. "Ring and whistle."
WILLIE (after a pause). "I can see how
'W stands for wring, but I'm blessed if I
can see how ' R' can stand for whistle."
HARPERS
ROUND TABLE
pyMclH, 1895, by HABPKH 4 BEOTHBHS. All RiEhts Re.erveil.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 829.
NEW YORK. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 1895
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
A CARGO OF BURNING COAL.
BY AN OLD SHIPMASTER.
T
1HE reader may think that while coal must be a dirty
cargo it is iu other respects an innocent one; but
there is no shipmaster who does not dread a long voyage
with this kind of freight, for many a fine vessel has been
lost owing to the coal taking fire through spontaneous
combustion ; therefore the greatest care is exercised in car-
rving it. and whenever the weather will permit, the hatches
are opened in order to give the gases in the hold an op-
portunity to escape. The regular coal-carriers :ire fitted
\\ ith ventilators set in different parts of the deck, and tin;
holds of the vessels are kept pure aud wholesome by turn-
ing tin-, gaping mouths of a number of the huge funnels so
that the wind will pour into and down them to the interior
of the ship, ami keep up a circulation by escaping through
other ventilators that are turned iu a contrary direction.
A good many years back, when I was an able young sea-
man on board the bark Hnlri</li, I had an experience that
was both exciting aud strange. Our vessel was loaded
with coal, and bound from Philadelphia to Australia. The
run down to the equator hail liccii a slow 1ml pleasant inn-.
owing not only to the mild, beautiful weather that \ve had
held right along since sailing, but because the I,'nli-i;ili had
whai was something of a novelty in iho.se da\s. in the way
of an excellent and kindly set of officers. \Ve were what
is called a '' happy ship."
After reaching about the parallel of twenty degrees south
we got a stress of weather for over a week, in w hich .several
of our sai's were, blown away ami a number nl' mir li^ht
spars \\ ere w recked. All our live stock of pigs and chickens
were drowned, owing to the Hooding ofonr decks, for we
sal \ ery low in the water.
On the day that we ran into pleasant weather aga
started to lake nil' I he hatches, when a gassy. choking
poured out of I !,e npening. The caruo w as on lire. There
was only one thing to do — to replace the ha
holes through them, and pump streams of water into the
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Lold, endeavoring to drown tlie fire before it gained addi-
tional headway. All bauds were called to the task, and
far twenty-four liours we worked for our lives, the crew
being divided into relief gaugs so that the deck -pumps
might be kept constantly going.
Before another morning came, however, we knew that
the ship was doomed, for the decks grew hot under our
tret, and through various crevices the weakening, nauseat-
ing fumes of coal-gas poured, overpowering us at times as
wi- plied the pump-handles. The wind died away, leaving
the ship becalmed, and over and around her bnng a sickly
blue pall of vapor. Then the order was given to provision
the boats and desert the Kaleigli. We pulled a little way
from the vessel and rested ou our oars, watching the noble
ship. As long as she floated there we seemed to have
something to cling to ou the wide desolate reach of wa-
ters.
Shortly afterward the mainmast swayed like a druuken
man, then with au awful crash it pitched over the side,
dragging with it the foretop-gallaut mast and the mizzen-
topmast. Through the broken deck a column of winding
sulphurous ilame shot into the air. The pitch ran wrig-
gling out of the seams of the Salcii/h's planking, and Ml
hissing in little showers into the water alongside as the
vessel rolled sluggishly ou the swells. An hour later the
bark was a mass of flames, and we pulled away to escape
from the heat.
There were two boats, the Captain commanding one and
the chief mate the other. Each had beeu provided with a
chart and compass, and, in addition to these instruments,
the two officers had carried away their sextants in order to
navigate by the sun and stars. Into each boat had been
stowed food and water, which it was calculated would last
about ten days by putting all hauds ou short allowance;
but it was hoped that before the provisions were con-
sumed we would either be picked up by a passing vessel
or successful in sailing to Rio Janeiro, distant from us
something less than six hundred miles. The Captain's
boat being the larger of the two carried the second mate,
steward, cook, and eight seamen, while the mate's boat held
the carpenter and four seameu — myself included among
the latter.
The boats laid alongside of one another while the Cap-
tain and mate decided upon the course to be steered ; then
•we separated, made sail to the southeast breeze that had
set in, and stretched away into the northwest, the Captain's
boat in the lead. The wind gathered strength from the
southeast, giving us a following breeze for the port toward
which we were steering, and both boats made good weather
of the moderate sea then ruuuiug, sweeping along at the
rate of live knots to the hour.
All that afternoon the boats kept within sight of oue
another, and •when night fell not over a quarter of a mile
divided us. With the first flush of dawn we swept the
expanse of waters, but nothing was to be seen. We were
alone. Every little while during the day that followed we
•would scan the horizon, hoping to lift the long-boat's sail
into view ; but in vain. We never saw her again, or heard
tidings of the twelve brave souls from whom we had parted
only a few hours before. That she never reached port is
certain; but what her ultimate fate proved, no one knows.
It blew up a gale of wind that afternoon, and I heard the
mate say that the storm experienced during the week that
was past had recurved, and that we would get it worse
than ever on its back track. To prevent the boat from
foundering, we unstepped the mast, made a span to it by
securing a length of rope to each end, and to the middle of
this bridle we bent the boat's painter. Then we dropped
this sea-anchor over the bows, anil rode to it, the strain
upon the painter keeping the bead of the boat to the seas
tliat rolled down on us.
When night settled upon the deep it shut out, oue of the
wildest sights of ocean-lashed waters that I had ever seen;
but the darkness only intensified the terror, for in the black-
ness we would feel the frail boat swung with dizzy velocity
up and up and up on some mountainous SIM, .-is though she
was never going to stop: then, uhilr the- great seething
crest was roaring in a thousand diabolical voices about us.
she would drop down, down, down with a motion that was
like falling through space.
It might have been the middle of the night when, worn
out from the labor of bailing without intermission for mauy
hours, I threw myself down in the bows of the boat, and
locking my arms around one of the thwarts to keep from
being pitched about, I fell into an exhausted sleep. I don't
know how long I slept, but I was brought to my senses by
a sea bursting iuto the boat, and I found my legs wedged
under the seat as I sat half suffocated on the flooring with
the water np to my armpits. Looking aft, I could see by
the phosporescent glow of the breaking seas that no shapes
of men were visible against the background of sky. My
companions were gone.
The gunwale of the boat was withiu a few inches of the
water, and it needed ouly the spume of another wave fall-
ing in the boat to sink her. There was no time for indulg-
ing in grief over the loss of my shipmates — there was time
only for work, and very little for that, if I was to save my
life. Tearing oft" my cap, I used it as a bailer and worked
desperately.
At last another morning came, and with it the gale broke;
but I allowed the boat to remain hove to during that clay
and following night, so as to give the seas a chance to go
down.
The second morning dawned clear and beautiful, with
the ocean subsided into long even swells, and the wind set-
tled down again to the regular trades. Most of the provi-
sions had beeu ruiued by the sea that had filled the boat,
but I found two water-tight tins filled with pilot-bread
that promised to supply my needs for some time to come.
The fresh water iu the boat-breakers had kept sweet owing
to the bungs being in place.
I had opened oue of the tins, and was sitting ou a thwart
making a breakfast from its contents, when, happening
to look astern, I made out, not more than a mile away,
the wreck of a small vessel. Everything about the fore-
mast was standing below the cross - trees, but only the
splintered stumps of her maiu and mizzeu masts were to be
seen above the deck, while the spars themselves, together
with their gear, were hanging in a wild confusion over the
side. I got in my drag, restepped the mast, set the sail,
and bore down upon the •wreck. As I drew close to her I
expected to see some signs of her crew, for the vessel sat
fairly high iu the water, and looked seaworthy enough to
be navigated into port by making sail upon the fore, and
rigging up jury-masts on the two stumps abaft — plenty of
material for such to be found in the raffle alongside. No
evidence, however, of life showed itself when I rounded uu-
der the stern, reading the name Mercedes in large white let-
ters. Letting fly my sheet, I caught the leeward chain-
plates, aud jumping on board with the painter, I seinnd
the same to a belayiug-pin, aud looked about me.
I was at once sensible that there was some water in the
hold by the peculiar motion of the vessel as she rose and
fell to the seas that underrau her; but at the same time it
was apparent that there could not be anything like a dan-
gerous quantity, otherwise the plane of the deck would
have floated much closer to the surface of the sea. With-
out regarding the nationality of the name, it was clear to
me that the vessel was either a Portuguese or Italian
trader by the rainbow character of her paint -work, the
slovenliness of the rigging, that was yet almost intact upon
the fore, aud, in spite of the drenching that she had re-
ceived, the unmistakable evidences of dirt everywhere.
There were no boats left, but whether they had beeu crush-
ed iu the wreck of the masts or had received the crew of
the liarkentine — for such I saw had been her rig — I could
not tell.
Entering the cabiu,! overhauled the four state-rooms it
contained, finding in three of them nothing but such odds
and ends as are peculiar to sailors' chests, and in the fourth
loiim. which had been used as a pantry, quite an assort-
ment of boxes and barrels of provisions, although there
was proof that some of them had been broken into and
rummaged quite recently.
Then I went on deck again and lifted oft' one of the main
hatch covers. Xo cargo of any nature was to be seeu,uo-
930
HAKPEE'S BOUND TABLE
thing but a mass of black oily water washing from side to
side. It was plain that the vessel was in ballast, that she
had sprung a leak in the last gale of wind, that her crew
had become frightened, had giveu her up for lost, and taken
to i lie I. outs. It was also clear that the Irak had stopped
itself in some manner — possibly when the old tub had
ceased straining after the sea went down —and that if I
could pump out the hull I might be able to put her before
the wind by making sail on the fore, and so, with the favor-
ing trade winds, let the Jin-cedes drift along to the port
dead away to leeward.
A sailor is never idle long after laying out bis work.
First I emptied my boat of its water-breakers and pro-
visions, then let it tow astern. Next I got an axe out of
the boatswain's locker and chopped away the rigging that
held the broken spars to the bark, then when the vessel
was clear I squared the topsail-yard by the braces, ran
aloft, cast off the gaskets that held the sail, descended to
the deck, where I sheeted home the topsail as well as pos-
sible, and carried the halyards through a leading block to
the capstan, on which I hove away until I had lifted the
yard as high as my strength allowed. Next I ran up the
jib, sheeted it down, and raced aft to the wheel. I put the
tiller up, and the old bucket at once answered her helm.
When I got her fairly before the wind I lashed the wheel,
and seeing that she would steer herself, with only a little
watching, I got to work at the pumps.
By the time night arrived I had sunk the water in the
hold to half its original depth. Then I settled away the
topsail and let it hang. The jib I left standing, knowing
that it would help to keep the vessel out of the trough,
even if it did little or no good in the way of forcing the
bark ahead. The weather promised to continue clear and
moderate, so I built afire in the galley range, brought a
quantity of stores from the pantry, and made a hearty meal.
I " turned in all standing," as seamen say when they go to
bed without undressing, and slept long and heavily.
The next morning I again set my topsail, and scudded
away to leeward while I finished clearing the bark of water.
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon. I had gone
up on the little top-gallant-forecastle to have a look at the
Mi-i-i-i'iles ground-tackle, when I made out, about two points
on the bow, and less than a mile away, a ship's boat filled
with men. They had discovered the bark, for they were
pulling to get in her path. As soon as I appeared to them
there was a waving of hats and a confusion of cheers and
calls. By the time that I had settled away the topsail-
balvards and pulled the jib down the boat was alongside,
and her late occupants were tumbling over the rail. The
first one to touch the deck was a fat little man, almost as
swarthy as a Malay, and twice as dirty, who wore enormous
gold hoops in his ears, and a dilapidated red fez upon a
mop of greasy black hair. He rushed np to me so wild
with excitement that lie kept hopping up and down like a
jumping -jack, while he smote his breast and screamed
something in Portuguese.
I shook my head and said, thumping my own breast,
" No speakee Portuguese ; me American !"
At this he yelled, accompany ing his words with such a
tremendous smiting of his poor ribs that I thought he
would beat them in.
"Me speakee Americano! Me Capitauo ! Me Capitano
this sheep! How you come ? me say!"
I saw- how it was. I had picked up the crew of the
Mercedes three days after they bad abandoned the vessel to
which they had just returned.
I held up my hand as a sign to the frantic, jabbering
monkeys to keep silence, then I explained partly by broken
English and the rest by signs how I had found the bark
deserted, had pumped her out, and was trying to reach the
eoast of South America in her. I ended by telling t lie Cap-
tain that I was glad to see him, and to give- him back his
Vessel.
He was so overpowered with gratitude and joy at such
an unexpected and happy ending to his troubles lh.it he
tlini"; his dirty arms around my neck and kissed my cheeks
effusively in the fulness of his heart. I was an honored
guest oil board the Captain's "sheep " from that time 'forth,
and several days later when, crippled and torn, tin- ) • old
Mercedes staggered into the beautiful harbor of Kio Janeiro,
and I took leave of the uncouth but kindly and grateful
sailor, he repeated his kissing act, and forced into ni\ hand
a small bag of gold pieces, representing piol.ably all his
savings, while he said,
"You take dees. Me love brave Americano sailor who
save me sheep."
CARRIER-PIGEONS.
BY ANNE IIELME.
IN the middle of the square around which the HeraliJ
building is built in New York city is a carrier-pigeon
house on a level with the roof. It is a square house, large
enough for a good-sized play-honse, and has a piazza,
a porch fenced in with wire, where the birds can exercise
until they have learned enough to be allowed to fly around
the city, for pigeons require a great deal of exercise not
only in flying, but in walking. Just notice the next time you
see a flock of pigeons wheu they light on the ground, or
on the roofs of buildings, how they walk up and down fora
long time.
Great care is taken with the pigeons. Their pedigree is
kept and they are all named. Then, too, a mark is stamp-
ed on their under w ings, so there shall be no mistake, and
by this means they have often been recovered and sent
home when they have lost their bearings or have been
stolen. The man whose duty it is to attend to them takes
a personal interest in each and every bird.
At night, when the}' come home, he looks to see that all
are there, and to prevent any strangers from mixing with
his own particular Hock. Pigeons are very homelike in
their tastes, and rarely does a day pass that several strange
birds do not join them. They are fed chiefly on cracked
corn, but they require more water than food — and water
is absolutely necessary to their health and happiness.
The amount they consume is almost incredible — more than
double that of other birds.
Their home instinct, which is, of course, their distinguish-
ing characteristic, is very marvellous. So strongly devel-
oped is it that it is impossible to keep the older birds
away, and the gift of a pair of old birds is a very thank-
less one, as they will inevitably fly home the moment they
are liberated, although they may be carried miles and
miles away, and in a covered basket. The birds chosen to
carry the messages from the yachts or steamers are sent
down the Bay for several days, so that they may prove
how swiftly they can fly back, and each day are liberated.
and a record kept of the time they make in getting back to
the office.
When a newspaper tug starts down the bay for the yacht-
races which are taking place just now, one of the principal
articles taken aboard is the big basket filled with carrier-
pigeons, and each bird has a brass band on its foot. At
different times during the race messages are written on the
thinnest of paper and made into small parcels. Tbe^
attached to the baud, and the birds thrown up into the air.
A pair are usually sent off together, as they fly better, it is
thought, in that way.
For a moment they wheel about apparently dazed, poise
themselves for perhaps a second, and then lly .straight tot-
home.
On one of these races from half an hour to thirty-five
minutes was the longest time taken from the moment they
were thrown into the air until they arrived at their des-
tination, ami the messages were taken from their feet. It
was a beautiful sight, and a wondrous one. to see these
birds arrive. Curiously enough, in some instances lbe\
brought back with them strange pigeons who had joined
them on the trip, evidently much interested to Know the
outcome of the yacht-race. The strange birds did not stay
at the cote alter nightfall, and apparently felt '
selves quite out of place with pigeons of such intellt-.
It is now well proved that carrier-pigeons can be used
to good purpose, for the news of the yachts was by their
aid cou\e\ed much sooner to headquarters than othc
931
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
CARRIER-PIGEONS COMING TO THEIR COTE.
would have been possible, and tlie question is nonr being
discussed as to whether it will not be advisable for all
ocean steamships to carry them, so that it' any vessel were
disabled at sea, and, as lias often happened, met with no
other steamer, by their means word might be sent back to
shore. An interesting article on this very subject was
published recently iu one of the daily papers, giving au
account of an experiment that was tried and with great
success. Five thousand pigeons were put on board the
Uanoiibia, sailing from Saint Nazaire, and at distances va-
rying from one hundred to five hundred miles were lib-
erated.
The results were beyond the most sanguine hopes, for
within a shorter time than had been deemed possible they
had all, almost without exception, returned to their pigeon-
houses.
It would not mean a great addition, either in money or
care, to have these birds on every ship that left the port,
and certainly great good might be done and endless anxiety
saved in many instances, it' intelligence as to a disabled
ship's whereabouts could reach her owners.
In order to make carrier-pigeons at home in any place
they must be taken there very young. Even birds six
weeks old will make their way back to
the nest, the instant they are liber-
ated, as distance is as nothing to them. HHHHHI
One pair sent out to Wilmington, Dela-
ware, were kept shut up for six weeks,
fed and watered with the utmost care
and regularity. The seventh week they
were set free, and at once disappeared.
Their owner telegraphed to their old
home, and received an answer that the
birds had arrived there before his tele-
gram was received.
One pair of the pigeons, which were
named Annie Rooney and McGinty, were
given tn a boy of eleven who lives in
New York city. They were very young
when they were given to him, and he de-
termined to train them so that they
would always make their home at his
house. For six weeks he kept them in
his room in a mocking-bird cage, and
was very careful about the food and
water. In the day-time he put the caue
outside the window, and wheu it rained
covered it with a cloth, for pigeons,
while they use a great deal of water
both to bathe iu and to drink, do nut
like to be out in the rain.
When six weeks were passed he opened
the cage door and fastened it so that the
birds could go out. At first they were
contented to poke their heads out of the
open door, but finally, after a great deal
of conversation (pigeons are great con-
versationalists), out they flew. They
seemed hardly to know the use of their
wings at first, and circled around in a
dazed way, alighting on the top of a
neighboring roof, where they apparently
had again a great deal to say to each
other. For twenty minutes they talked,
then seemed to have made up their minds
to try a long flight, for with one graceful
swoop into the air, oft' they flew. Hours
went by, and they did not return, and
when it was nearly dark all hope was
abandoned; but suddenly there was a
whir of wings, and Annie Rooney came
home. McGinty still was absent. An-
nie Rooney perched herself on her roost,
every feather rumpled up most disconso-
lately, while the boy who owned them
went to bed very low in his mind. At
daylight next morning he was awakened
by such a cooing as he had never heard
before. Rushing to the window, there he saw McGinty, in
the wildest excitement, and with his head almost buried
in the little dish which held the drinking water.
From that day the cage was left outside, and the door
taken oft', so that the birds might come and go as they
chose.
Then, alas! began their troubles. So pleased were they
with their little journey into the world that they at once
set out to explore the houses near by, and every day a note
was sent iu from some neighbor to the effect: "Extremely
sorry , but your pigeons fly into my bedroom and knock
down all the ornaments." " Your birds insist upon walk-
ing up and down under my bed, making most unearthly
sounds ; I am afraid of birds and cannot stand having them
in my house." "Again your birds have flown into my
windows, and are in the children's doll-house. They re-
fuse to come out, and make such a hideous noise as to
alarm the children."
These three notes were only samples of others, and after
a family conclave it was decided the pigeons must be sent
away Summer was coming on, and it was finally con-
cluded the country was the best place for them.
Their owner took them in a covered basket to a farm ou
THE INTERIOR OF THE PIGEONS' HOME.
932
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
MoGINTY, ANNIE ROONEY, AND A GUEST.
Long Islaud, where they -were put into a pigeon-house, and
provided with water and food. The next day they were
apparently happy, so with many regrets they were told
good-by, and the boy returned to town.
It was a loug journey — some hours — and it was rather
a sad-faced youth who mounted the steps and told his mo-
ther he had left his Vjirds in the country. It was then sis
o'clock in the evening. At ten minutes past six there was
a great fluttering of wings, and lo and behold, Annie Roouey
and McGiuty had returned, and prouder and happier pi-
geous never were seen.
ON BOARD THE AEK.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTER VII.
IT seemed to Tommy as if the Gopher would never get
enough. The little boy had never before witnessed
such voracity. By actual
count he had seen seven-
teen plates of soup vanish
into his neighbor's system,
and yet there was no ap-
parent ill effect. The Go-
pher threw each empty dish
under the table, so that the
pile of crockery was now
so high in front of his chair
thai he could rest his feet
on it.
"Really," said Tommy at
last, "I never saw such a
greedy thing as you in all
my life."
" I can't help it," an-
swered the Gopher, com-
placently ; " the eating
question is a most impor-
tant, one, and I'm afraid
they'll all get up and say
dinner is over before I've
had half enough."
" It seems to me that
yon have had more than
enough. And, besides, I
have an aunt who says one
should always arise from
the table hungry."
"Never you mind that
Ant," said the Gopher.
"Ants don't count. They
are so little they can't hold
anything, anyhow. As for getting up
t'riiTii the table. hungry, that is .something
I cannot nuclei-stand. 1 always sit down
hungry ; and it would never do to lie hun-
gry at both ends of the meal, now would
it?"
On relleetion Tommy did not think it
would, and as he had lieei re than half
inclined at the oiilset inward the (Ciph-
er's view of the ease, they s agreed mi
this point. Then the little animal said.
-" Thtsuawll) t'miyiinsnt ?"
"I can't understand you when you talk
with your mouth full," replied Tommy.
The Gopher made a great effort, and
swallowed so hard that his eyes fairly
bulged. Then he said,
"That's an awfully funny one, isn't it?"
"What one?"
"The one next to you."
"Him?" said Tommy, pointing at the
ex-Pirate.
"Um," continued the Gopher, nodding
his head, for his mouth was full again.
"Ain't he?"
" He is a very nice gentleman," remarked Tommy, for
lack of anything more definite to say.
"What kind is he?" asked the Gopher.
"He's an ex-1'irate."
" A Pie Rat ? Goodness, how he has changed !"
"Oh yes, he has changed," continued Tommy. "He is
very good now. He has entirely reformed."
"I should say he had. His form is entirely different, I
knew a Pie Rat once, but he was not at all like this one.
He does not look like a Pie Rat at all."
"Oh yes he does!" exclaimed Tommy, eagerly, although
he realized as soon as he had spoken that he had never
seen any real active pirate. But he added, "He is all
tixed up just like a real pirate."
"Well, he isn't," said the Gopher, dictatorially. "The
Pie Rat I kuew looked like any other rat, but he only ate
pie. Does this one eat pie ?"
" Did you say rat ?" asked Tommy.
" I said Pie Rat," answered the Gopher.
THE LION CALLED THE ASSEMBLED MULTITUDE TO ORDER.
933
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
" Well, you don't want to let him hear you say rat. You
must say ex-Pirate ; that, means that he is not a pirate any
more."
"That's just what I said," persisted the Gopher. "I said
he did not look like a Pie Rat, and so he is not a Pie Rat,
and that's all there is to it." Then he threw up his hands
and shouted. " Oh my ! look at that !"
Tommy glanced up toward the head of the table, and saw
that the Lion was helping himself to fully half of what, had
been placed before him.
••What a lot he takes!" remarked the little hoy, in sur-
prise.
" Always, "said the Gopher. "But it's the Lion's share,
and I suppose he is entitled to it. I wish I was a
Lion."'
"I don't, "said Tommy, hastily, for he felt that he much
preferred a small animal like the Gopher for a neighbor to
a possible Lion.
"Well, I don't really believe I would like to he a Lion,
after all," the Gopher went on to say. "If I could make
myself all over a^ain, I should be part Elephant, part Camel,
and part Giraffe."
"What, a funny-looking creature you would be!"
"Oh, I would not mind that. I don't care much about
appearances. Eating is what interests me."
"I should think so," commented Tommy.
"And then think of the advantages of such a combina-
tion," pursued the. Gopher. "If I were part, Elephant I
should be as big as any animal: and if I were part Camel
I should have four stomachs; and then I should want a
Giraffe's neck. Just think of how long things taste good
ill a Giraffe's throat. Why, it's two yards long! And
mine is only about half an inch. How many times better
does a piece of pie taste to a Giraffe than it does to
me?"
" I don't know," answered Toimnv Toddles, verv prompt-
]y-
"Well, I've figured it all out many a time," added the
Gopher, "and I can tell yen. A throat two yards loug is
twice thirty-six inches loug, isn't it?"
" Yes."
"That's seventy-two inches. And if my throat is only
half an inch loug, the Giraffe's throat is one hundred and
forty-four times as long as mine, and so the pie tastes one
hundred and forty-four times as good."
Tommy marvelled at. the Gopher's proficiency in arith-
metic, but his mind soon reverted to the question at hand,
and he began to wonder how much better pie would taste
if his own neck was one hundred and forty-four inches
long. He was going to ask his neighbor for further infor-
mation on the subject, but when he turned around toward
the Gopher he saw that the little animal had in some way
gotten possession of the soup-tureen, and had thrust his
head into it, and was almost drowning because he could
not get it out. And then, just as the ex-Pirate and Tommy
had rescued the Gopher from a soupy grave, the Lion arose
at the head of the table, and pounded loudly on the board
and called the assembled multitude to order.
When silence had spread over the room, the King of
Beasts announced that the Goat had eaten the passenger
list and other important notices off the bulletin board, and
that it was thus impossible for him as toast-master to know
who was present and who was not, and so he could not call
on anyone by name- to make a speech. He added, however,
that any one who desired to make a speech might do so, or,
instead of a speech, any animal could sing a song or tell a
story. Having made this announcement, the Lion sat down
again : and all the animals glared frowningly upon the Goat,
who stroked his whiskers nervously and looked etnbar-
ra-;si'd. either because of these rebuking glances or pos-
sibly because of the antediluvian ink on the passenger
list,
"I feel awfully sorry for that Goat," whispered the Go-
pher to Tommy.
''Why don't you get up and make a speech then, and
distract the general attention ?"
" I don't know any speech," answered the Gopher ; " hut
I know a joke."
"Tell the joke," urged Tommy; and so the Gopher stood
up in his chair, and took oft" his pink sun-bonnet, anil said
he wanted to tell his joke.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
A STORY OF CORN -BREAD AND CROWS.
BY DORA READ GOODALE.
O sportsmen one morning, right dashing to view
In velvet and buckskin from helmet to shoe.
Were passing the field where the river runs by,
When they chanced in the distance a figure to spy —
Such a figure as farmers, from time out of ken,
Convinced that in clothes is the measure of men,
Have fashioned in spring-time of brushwood and bay
For the cheating of Solous more crafty than they.
"Sir Scarecrow; behold him!" the first hunter cries —
"What a marvel of rags which a Jew would despise!
Here's a fig for the bird that so witless appears
When he's lived among Yaukees a good fifty y:n-
If the fowl really tlics that his corn-bread would miss
For a wooden-legged, broken-backed puppet like this!
Come, choose a few nubbins to roast on the spot,
While I pepper his crown with a capful of shot."
Now the farmer that morning was tilling his soil,
Flushed, ragged, and snnbrowned, and grimy with toil,
When pausing a moment, as all farmers will,
He spied our two friends coming over the hill.
"Good laud!" quoth the rustic, "a nice thing it is
Fer two city fellers to ketch me like this!"
Then, dropping his hoe, he exclaims with a grin,
" Youug chaps, I'll be blessed ef I don't take you in!"
So, urging his slow wits to cope with the case,
He jerks his old hat down to cover his face,
Stretches limb like a, windmill that spreads to the breeze,
Draws his fists up like turtles and stiffens his knees;
Yet a tremor of fun through the homespun appears
As the sound of that parley floats back to his ears,
And the honest ears burn as it calls up the words
Which declare that in plumes is the making of birds!
One moment the huntsman his target surveys,
Wliile his laughing companion is gleaning the maize,
When that fetich of bumpkins, that burlesque in bran.
Starts, twitches, grows limber, shouts, moves — is a man :
"Git enough fer a roast, while ye're gittin'," drawls hi,
"Ef I ain't quite the blockhead you tuk me to be.
W'y, it's nater seuce Adam to run arter clo'es,
But Ftl go sort o' slow as to GOTn-brcud an' croir* .'"
HOW REDDY GAINED
COMMISSION.
HIS
BY CAPTAIN CHARLES A. CURT IS, U.S. A.
Part IE.
WHEN Reddy found himself in the water, he realized
the impossibility of swimming to the shore, and be-
gan to struggle in an effort to reach the jam. This jam
had its origin in a group of sandstone bowlders in the
centre of the river, on the edge of the rapids. The river
debris had collected and compacted about them into sev-
eral square yards of solid surface. To the corporal and
his fellow soldiers, now gathered on the shore and watch-
ing the swimmer, it seemed that the hoy must be carried
pasi to certain death.
They were about giving him up for lost when they sa w
him snatch at a branch attached to the edge of the jam
and swing himself a.bout, then reach a protruding log :l1"'
climb out. Instantly he ran to the outer end of the log
and reached his floating oar. With, the oar he caught the
934
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
prow of the boat, and swinging it within reach of his hands,
drew it out of the water.
The soldiers gazed at the stranded boys in perplexity.
Tliere seemed no chance of rescuing them. They knew ol
no other boat nearer than the next government post, nor
would a raft be of use at the head of the roaring fall. The
stream was too deep for wading and too near the plunge,
for swimming. The corporal quickly mounted the mule
and rode to the fort to report the lads' plight to the com-
manding officer.
As soon as possible an ambulance containing the officers
and Mrs. Maloney started for the river. They brought
some tools, a spare oar, and several coils of rope. A IV w
moments later nearly all the men of the garrison not on
duty lined the southern shore. Mrs. Maloney's worst fears
seemed to be realized when she saw her sou clinging help-
lessly to the suag iu mid-stream. Her auguish was heart-
rending.
"Ah, Teddy b'y!" she screamed, oblivions to the fact
that he could not hear her voice above the roar of the wa-
ter, " don't ye let go the tray, darlint ! Howld on till hilp
gets t' yez !"
But how to get to tliem, or to get anything to them, -was
a serious question. The soldiers were brave and willing
men, but they did not possess the skill of river-drivers nor
the appliances and tools of the craft. If the boys were
only a mile farther up stream, clear of the rapids, a score
of swimmers could take lines out to them; or, for that
matter, the boys could swim ashore without assistance.
The close vicinity of the snag to the plunging and tumult-
uous descent in the river made all the difference.
Experiment after experiment was tried. Several brave
fellows in turn tied the end of the rope to their waists and
swam out; but the current pulling at the slack between
them and the shore drew them back. Another went far
up stream and swam out, while the shore end of the rope
was carried down by comrades at the, same rate as the flow
of the current. He succeeded in grasping the snag; but
the instant he paused the titanic force of the water tore
him away, burying him beneath the surface. He was
drawn ashore nearly drowned.
The commanding officer was about to send to the fort
for material for a raft and an anchor, when his attention
was called to the boy on the jam. After the failure of the
last attempt to rescue bis friend, Reddy was seen to ap-
proach the boat and launch it. He then drew it to the
end of the log previously mentioned, held it. by the stern,
with the prow pointed downward, and appeared to be look-
ing for a passage through the submerged bowlders. Pres-
ently lie turned towards his friends on shore, swung the
oar over his head, stepped on board, and was quickly out
of sight.
A cry of alarm went up from the soldiers when Reddy
disappeared, and they with one accord started on a run
down the shore. At the foot of the steep descent they
found the brave boy paddling his skiff into a quiet eddy.
He was greeted with vociferous enthusiasm, and a dozen
men shouldered him and the boat, and carried them back
to the landing. There a line was attached to the stern of
the skiff, and a strong man rowed out toward the suag,
but the current dragged it back precisely as it had the
swimmers. Captain Bartlett next ordered the boat to be
towed a quarter of a mile up stream, and as it floated down
and was rowed outward be directed the shore end of the
line to be carried along with it.
It became quickly evident to the spectators that the
skiff" would reach the snag, aud an involuntary cheer went
up, Mrs. Maloney waving her apron and screaming with
tearful joy. But through some blunder, or lack of skill,
the original accident was repeated. The wherry dropped
sideways against the tree and was swamped. This time,
however, a line being attached, the skiff was drawn free,
and swung back to the shore by the pull of the current.
The man clung to the boat and was lauded at the crest of
the rapid.
The anguish of the poor mother at the faiUiro of what
had promised to be a certain rescue of her son w:is pitiful.
She fell upon her knees, wrung her bands. -ind sobbed in
abject despair. Reddy approached, stoop,-,! 1,,-side her, and
placing an arm about her neck, said :
"Do not cry, Mrs. Maloney ; I'm going to ask the Captain
I" lei me no I,, Teddy, ami I'll have him here with vou in
no time."
"No, no, child. Don't y, be dhrownded, too. \,, thing
can save me b'y now aid the inin have failed."
"But I mean to try it, Mrs. Malonev. I M \ your tears
and watch me do it."
Teddy Maloney on the snag in midstream was now suf-
fering intensely. Seated upon a tree trunk barely ten
inches in diameter, and kept IV, mi slip], ing down its slope
by a rugged knot, bis position was almost, unendurable.
For five hours he had clung there hatless and coat less, with
his back to a broiling sun. Dazed by suffering and diy/.icd
by the leaping, gliding, and wrinkling water that gurgled
and pulled at, his half-submerged legs, he was still eon M- ions
of the efforts being made for his rescue. He saw Reddy
shoot the rapids, and with a growing conviction that he
could not hold on much longer, he wondered whv his boy
friend did not come to his aid. " He is tin ly, one in the
whole crowd that knows anything about a boat. Why
don't they let him do something f" thought, poor Te,l,l\ .
As if in answer to this silent appeal, Kedmond Carter at
the same moment approached Captain Bartlett and begged
permission to go for his comrade.
" But, Carter, how can you expect to accomplish what
these older and stronger meu have failed to do Tasked the
Captain.
"They do not know what to do, sir. I was born on the
Kennehec, sir. I have run barefooted on booms, rafts, and
jams, and have boated in birch canoes, dugouts, punts, and
yawls, and I can run a rapid, as you have just, seen."
"A Kennebec boy, Reddy !" said the officer, for the first
time using the boy's pet name. "I know what Kennebec
boys could do when I was one of them. You may try it ;
but he careful."
Reddy sprang into the boat and began rowing up stream
iu the shore eddy. Reaching the desired distance he turned
into the middle of the river, aud changing his seat to the
stern aud using an oar for a paddle, he dropped down the
current toward the snag. As he neared it, he saw Teddy's
hands relax and his body sway dightly to the right.
"Hold on, Teddy !" he shouted. " Keep your grip! I'm
right here !"
Gliding along the right side of the trunk he stayed the
motion of the skiff' by grasping it with his left hand.
"Tumble iu, Teddy — quick!" he said.
Teddy obeyed, literally falling into the bottom of tin-
boat, limp and sprawling between the thwarts.
Reddy let go the trunk, went towards the rapids, raking
the crest at the same place he had taken it before. Down,
down the boiling, foaming, roaring descent be sped, plying
his oar with all his might, lest in turning a frothing Scylla
he might be burled upon a threatening Charybdis. His
former success attended him.
Again the soldiers ran to meet him at the foot of the
watery slope, filling the air with shouts as they ran. Hut
thesightof Teddy lying senseless in the bottom of tin- boat
checked further joyous demonstration. He was tenderly
lifted iu stalwart arms and borne |,> :i grass\ knoll near
by, where he was received by his anxious mother and the
smut-on Restorative treatment brought him b.-i.-k to eon-
seionsness, and lie was taken at once to the fort,
wln-rry was again carried to the landing before the hay-
camp, and the crowd of soldiers dispersed through the ra-
vines and groves in the direction of their barracks.
Captain Bartlett accompanied Redmond Carter to the
place where the mule and pony were picketed, and. say-
ing that he would ride Puss to t he post, ordered 01 f the
men to saddle her, aud entered into conversation with the
•• 1 think you are out of place in the arms . ( alter.'
he.
-What, sir! Have I not always done my duty well
asked 1,'eddy, in dism:i.\ ,
•• Much better tbiin the average soldier, lint that •
what I mean. You seem qnalilic.d for something b
935
DOWN, DOWN THE BOILING, FOAMING, ROAUINO DESCENT HE SPED.
than the position you occupy. You are not of the material
from which the army is usually recruited. This slip of
paper, found beside the orderly bench at the office," ob-
served the officer, handing the boy his sketch of the Trojan
horse with the accompanying Latin sentence, "shows that
you have been a student. I do not know what accident
brought you here, but I think school is the proper place for
you."
"Nothing would please me better, sir, than to be able to
return to school ; but it is not possible at present."
"Are you willing to tell rue how you come to be in the
service?"
"Yes, sir; it is not a long story," replied the young sol-
dier. "My father and mother died when I was too young
to remember them, aud I was left to the care of a guardian,
•who sent me to school, aud afterwards to an academy,
where I prepared for college. I passed my entrance exam-
ination to the Freshman class in June, and expected to
go on in September; but the failure of companies in which
my property had been invested left me destitute, and I gave
it up."
" But you have relatives ?"
"Lots of them; but they showed little inclination to
help me. There had been some family differences thai I
never understood, and I was too proud to go begging for
assistance. I shipped on a granite-schooner for Philadel-
phia. I was miserably seasick the whole trip, aud was dis-
charged by the master of the vessel without pay. Having
no money I could not find food while looking for work. I
obtained an odd job now and then, but soon wore my
clothes to rags, so that no respectable establishment would
think of hiring me. I slept on the streets, and frequently
passed a day without proper food. One day I passed a
recruiting-office, and it suggested a means of escape from
destitution. I enlisted as a lifer, and was assigned to your
company."
" And you have been with me ten mouths," said the Cap-
tain. " I suppose your relatives cannot trace you ?"
"They might trace me to Philadelphia," replied Eeddy;
" but the trail becomes dark there. Even if they suspected
I had enlisted — which is not likely — they could not find
me, for the recruiting sergeant blundered in registering
my name. He put me down as Redmond A. Carter, when
he should have written it Raymond J. Corser."
" Not a rare mistake of the recruiting officer. So you
are of the General Corser family ?"
" He was my grandfather."
"Then you have only to communicate with your rela-
tives in order to get out of the army. Yours is an influen-
tial family."
"I shall serve out my enlistment, sir. The army has
served me a good turn, and when I am discharged I shall
be in better condition to find employment than in Phila-
delphia."
" But what has become of your college aspirations ?"
"It will still be possible to accomplish that. Sergeant
Von Wald and I are studying together, and I think I shall
be able to enter Sophomore. Poor boys have worked their
way before."
" I have noticed Von Wald. Is he a scholar f"
"Please not to mention it, sir; he is a German univers-
ity man. When I am discharged I shall have most of my
five years' pay, aud considerable savings on clothing not
drawn. I expect it will amount to nearly eight hundred
dollars."
For a few moments the officer said nothing, but gazed
reflectively across the rushing and roaring river. At last
he turned again toward the boy and asked, " How would
you like to be an officer in the army, Carter?"
"I should like it above all things, sir; but it is not pos-
sible. While I might make a struggle single-handed
through college, I could scarcely hope to secure an appoint-
ment to West Point."
"Still there is a way. The late Congress passed a law
allowing men who have served two years in the army, and
been favorably recommended by their officers, to be exam-
ined fur appointment to the grade of second lieutenant.
You have a little more than four years to serve. In that
time you will have reached the required age, and Lieuten-
ant Dayton aud I can give you the necessary instruction.
What do you say?"
" I'll make a hard struggle for it, sir, if you will afford
me the chance."
Five years later Sergeant Redmond A. Carter passed a
successful examination for a second lieu ten an tcy in the
army, and was commissioned in the artillery under his
proper name, Raymond J. Corser.
Edward Maloney, who excelled in physical rather than
intellectual attainments, continued in the service, becom-
ing at the time of his second enlistment first sergeant of
Captain Bartlett's company.
936
OAKLEIGH.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DKLAND.
CHAP! K I! XII I.
DURING these early months of the year a change had
come, over Miss Betsey Triukett's life. Silas Green
hail died.
Mr. and Mrs. Franklin went to Waybnrongh for the
funeral, and found Miss Betsey quite broken.
" To flunk that the, day was tixed at, last," she said, " and
he died only the week hclore. Well, well, it does seem
passing queer, after all these years. It doesn't do to put
a thins otf too long. Anil yet, perhaps, it's all for the
best, for if I'd given up and gone down there to live, I
should have had nothing now to look at hut the Soldiers'
Monument, and I'd have felt real lonesome without the
Merrimac."
And with this consolation the old lady took up her life
again, and found it very much the same thing it had been
before, with the exception of Sunday night. On that even-
ing she would not have the lamps lighted, but would sit
in her favorite window and look out across the valley at
her beloved view, her eyes turned in that direction long
after it became too dark to see.
Sometimes then she regretted that she had not yielded
to Silas's arguments, and gone to live in the house in the
village. It would have
pleased him. And it seem-
ed very lonely Sunday
night without Silas.
After a while — it was a
day or two after the com-
munications came from
Bronson — Mr. Franklin re-
ceived a letter from his
aunt. She wa.s pretty well,
but felt as if she had not
heard from them for a long
time. She would send
Willy's present soon. Had
Janet's been placed in the
savings - bank ? She had
not heard from Janet since
she sent it. Why did not
the child write ?
As nothing had come to
Janet from Miss Trinkett,
this caused some surprise.
" I am afraid Aunt Bet-
sey has trusted to govern-
ment once too often," said
Mr. Franklin," for evident-
ly the package has gone
astray. I wonder what was
there besides the gold dol-
lars ;>"
"Something to make it
an odd -looking package,
you may he sure, papa,"
said Cynthia..
Mr. Franklin inquired of
the postmaster. That per-
sonage was a. nervous little
man. much harassed with
the responsibilities and du-
ties of liis position.
"Something lost, Mr.
Franklin ? Now that's \ ery
strange. I can't think it's
lost. Yes, I remember a
number of odd -looking
packages that have come
for your family from Way-
borongh. There may have
been one lately, though I
can't say for sure. Let me
see. I remember young
Gordon coming for the mail one day, and gel I in- no,
he didn't get one, he sent it — a money-order. Mappi-n
to remember it because he paid for it in gold. That's .-ill
I ean safely say about anything, Mr. Franklin. Theiv mav
have been a package — What did yon say, miss ? stamps
and postal -cards? Yes, yes." And the Imsy little man
turned to the next coiner.
Mr. Franklin left the office with a thoughtful far,-. Mi-
was a very impulsive man, too apt to say the first thing
that occurred to him, without regard to consequences.
Therefore when he got into the carriage and, taking the
reins from Edith, drove hurriedly out High Street towards
Oakleigh, he exclaimed :
"I am almost inclined to believe that Neal knows more
about Aunt Betsey's present to Janet than any of us."
Janet, who was perched on the back seat, heard her
own name mentioned, and proceeded to listen attentively.
Both her father and sister forgot that she was there, and
she took especial pains not to remind them of her presence.
"How do you mean, papa?" asked Edith.
" I think it is a remarkable coincidence, if nothing more.
I had a letter the other day from young Bronson, stating
that Neal owed him fifty dollars. The same night I had
•Oil, I DON'T KNOW WHAT HE SAID, AND I'VE TOLD YOU TEN HUNDRE
937
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
another letter from him, saying that IIP had received a
money-order from Neal for the amount. We questioned
Neal, and lie would give no satisfactory answer as to
where he got the money. The postmaster tells me that
Neal paid for his money -order in gold. Aunt Uelse\'s
present to Janet is missing; we all know that Aunt Betsey
always sends gold. The postmaster seems to think that a
package may have come through the office to us, though
In- is not absolutely certain of it. What more natural
thau to suppose that the gold Neal had was meant for
Janet ? He may have called for the mail that day, recog-
nized the package from Aunt Betsey, and the temptation
was too much for him."
"Oh, papa!" cried Edith, much shocked, "I can't be-
lieve that Neal would do a thing like that."
"1 can't either," said her father, cutting the air with
his whip in his impatience, and making his horse prance
madly — ''I can't either, and I am sure I don't want to!
Let us forget that I said it, Edith. Don't think of it again,
and on no account repeat what I said. The idea came into
my head, and I spoke without thinking. I wouldn't have
Hester know it for the world. But it is strange, isn't it,
that Neal paid gold for his money-order. Where did he
get it .'"
"It is strange, papa, but indeed I think Neal is honest.
I am sure — oh, I am very sure — that it couldn't have been
Janet's."
" Then where did he get it ?" repeated Mr. Franklin, with
another cut of his whip.
"Perhaps Mrs. Franklin gave it, to him."
"Of course she didn't," exclaimed her father, with irri-
tation, "and I wish you would oblige me, Edith, by not
tailing my wile ' Mrs. Franklin.' If you do not choo.se to
speak of her as the, rest of my children do, you can at
least call her ' Hester.' You annoy me beyond measure."
Edith turned very white as she said: '• I am sorry, papa.
Then I will call her nothing. I can't possibly say 'mamma1
to her, and I don't feel like speaking to her by her first
name,"
" What nonsense is all this!" said Mr. Franklin. "I am
thoroughly disappointed in you. Edilh."
"I don't know why you should be. papa. I have no-
thing to do with it. If the Gordons had not come hen- this
would never have happened. The money would not be
missing, you wouldn't have had the letters from Tony
Bronsou, and I — oh, I would have been so much happier!"
"If you are not happy, it is entirely your own fault,"
«aid her father, sternly. "Now let me hear no more of
Iheiie absurd notions of yours. 1 have too much to think
of that is of more importance."
Edith wanted to cry, but she controlled herself. She
was to drive with her father over to Upper Falls, where
he had to attend to some business, and now she had made
him seriously augry, she knew. She swallowed the lumps
that rose in her throat, and presently she managed to
speak on some iuclitt'erent subject ; but her father made no
reply, and they soon turned in at Oakleigh gates. Janet,
tin- small, quirt persou on the back seat, could scarcely
wait to get home. She must tind Neal at once.
But Neal was not easily to be found. She trotted up to
his room, but he was not. there. She went to the cellar
stairs and called, but Neal had neglected his duties of late as
partner in the poultry business ; in fact, he had retired al-
together, ami the eggs reposed there alone. Janet was not
allowed to descend the stairs because of her misdemeanors
last year.
She went, to the workshop, but all was quiet. Look-
ing out from the upper window, however, she spied l!ob
in the pasture; perhaps Neal was with him. She went
down and unfastened the big gate that opened iuto the
barn-yard.
Country child though she was, Jauet was sorely afraid
of venturing through the barn -yard alone. Were there
any pigs there? Yes, there were a great many. Jauet
detested pigs, ugly -looking creatures! And there were
some cows also, and she had on her red .jacket. She
promptly laid it aside and made a bold rush through the
yard.
On the whole, she rather enjoyed the excitement. She
was alone, for Willy had gone to Boston with her mother,
and Cynthia and Jack were at school. Janet, felt herself
enjoying an unlooked-for holiday owing to the illness of
her teacher, and she was about to fulfil the proverb which
tells of the occupation that is found for idle hands to do,
though in this case it was an idle tongue.
The dangers of the barn-yard overcome, Jauet pursued
her way along the cart-road that led to the far meadow,
and there, sitting on a rock near the river, she found the
object of her search. He was whittling a boat while he
pondered moodily about his affairs.
"Neal, Neal !" she called, breathless from excitement and
haste, "I want to speak to you. What have you done with
my present?"
"Where did you come from, you small imp?" said Neal,
with lazy good-nature. Preoccupied though he was, he
was fond of children, and particularly of mischief-loving
Janet, and lie was not sorry to have his solitude relieved
by her coming.
"Where's my present ?" repeated Janet; "I want it
dreadful bad."
" Your present ! What do you mean, young one? You
don't suppose for an instant that I'm making this boat for
yon, do you ?"
"Boat!" cried Janet, disdainfully ; "I don't want any
old boat; I want Aunt Betsey's present."
"I suppose you do. I would myself if I were so lucky
as to own an Aunt Betsey. But I'm afraid 1 can't help you
in that line, my child."
"Yes, you can," said Janet, tugging at his elbow; ''you
can too. You've got it. Papa said so."
"Got what?"
"Aunt Betsey's present. lie and the postmaster man
said you took it."
"Said I took it?"
••Yes. Come, Neal, give it to me. I don't want the
gold dollars — you can have those — but I'd like the funny
thing she sent with them. Aunt Betsey allus sends funny
things. Come along, Neal. Give it to me."
" Did your father say I took that money ?"
"Yes, he did. Didn't I say so lots of times ? Edith said
yon didn't, and papa said you did. What's the matter
with your face? It looks awful funny."
"Never mind what it looks like. Tell me what your
father said."
"Oh, I don't know what he said, and I've told you ten
hundred times. Don't hold my arm so tight; it hurts.
Let me go. Neal."
"I won't, till you tell me what he said."
" I'll never tell unless you let go. I'll scream, and peo-
ple '11 know you're killing me dead, aud then you'll get
punished."
She opened wide her mouth and gave a long, piercing
shriek.
"Oh, hush up!'' exclaimed Neal, roughly; "if I let go
will you tell me?"
"Ws, if you'll give me that boat. I think I'd like it,
after all."
Neal released her and thrust the boat into her hand.
"Now what?" he said.
"Oh, nothing much, except, papa came out of the post-
office aud told Edith the postmaster man said maybe you'd
taken Aunt Betsey's package, 'cause you gave him some
gold dollars. Aud papa said it must have been my pres-
ent,'cause you couldn't get gold dollars any other way. no-
how, and papa was mad, I guess. 'cause his face looked the
way it does when some of us chillens is naughty, with his
mouth all shut up tight. There, that's all. Now, Neal,
give me the thing Aunt Betsey sent."
" 1 haven't got it aud I never had it. And now good-by
to you, every oue of you, forever! Do you hear? Forever!
I'm not going to stay another minute in a place where I'm
insulted."
He strode away, and Janet, frightened at she knew not
what, sat down on a rock aud begau to cry. How very
queer Neal was. and how queer his face looked! She \\on-
• dered what he was going to do. Perhaps he was going
938
II AIDER'S ROUND TABLE
<li)\vn to the cellar to smash all the eggs, lie looked that
way.
Sin1, sat there awhile, hut it was cool without the red
jacket, left on the other side, of the barn-yard — for although
it was spring according to the almanac, there was still a
sharpness iu the air — anil very soi.n she too went towards
home. She had not found Aunt Betsey's present . al'i rr all.
and she had nothing to repay her for her .si-arch hut a half-
made wooden boat and an aching arm.
And there wen- thoxe pi^s, still at large. She got
through safely, but left the gate open, theivl,\ allowing
the animals to escape, and incurring the wrath of the.
farmer.
When she reached the house Xc-al was mil to be. found.
There was no one at. home, for Edith and her father had
driven over to I'pper Falls on business, alter leaving Janet
at the door. There was nothing to do but to go out and
tease the good-natured kitchen-maid into giving her a
huge slice of bread and butter and sugar. Mary Ann and
Martha, the old servants, would never do it, but the youth-
ful Amanda was more lenient.
"Where's Neal, 'Manila ?'' asked Janet, as she munched
the delicious portion which was placed before her. They
were in, the pantry, beyond the sight of the other
maids.
"I don't know. He came, a-stalkin' past the kitching
windies a little while ago, an' I heard him run up stairs
an' down like a house a-tire, an' out the. front door with a
bang."
"(iness he's excited," murmured Janet, with her mouth
full ; " guess that must be it. He's gone oil' mad. We had
a light out in the pasture."
"La, child! What do you mean f"
"Oh, I'm not going to say any more, Yept me and Neal,
we tit a light in the pasture. I inado him awful mail,"
with another huge bite.
" La, child, you do beat everything! Hut there's Mary
Ann calling me. Don't you take a bit more sugar. Now
mind !''
But Janet, left to herself iu the pantry, made a tine re-
past .
The family came home to dinner, with the exception of
Mr. Franklin and Edith, and although Xeal's absence was
commented upon, no one thought anything of it. lie fre-
quently went (iff for a long day alone on the river.
When the. meal was nearly over and dessert had been
placed upon the table, Janet thought that she would an-
nounce what had taken place. She felt quite important a.t
being the cause of Neal's disappearance.
"Guess Neal's awful mad with me,'' she said, suddenly.
No one paid much attention. She would try again.
"Guess Neal's awful mad with me 'bout what I said 'bout
Aunt Betsey's present."
" What did you say about it?" asked Jack, who sat next
to her. There was a lull in the conversation, and every
one heard her reply.
"Oh, I told him to give it to me. I said papa said he
took it, and he could have the gold dollars, but I wanted
the funny thing. Why, maybe it was a doll or a. purse or
some other nice thing. Course I wauted it. My, though,
Neal was mad !"
"What did you tell him, Janet?" asked Mrs. Franklin,
in much astonishment; "that your father said Neal had
taken your present" When did he say so, and what do
you mean ?"
•• Goody, mamma, you're asking 'most as many questions
as Neal did. Guess you're excited, like he was. I told
him papa said he'd taken my present from Aunt Betsey.
The postmaster man said so this morning. And Neal look-
ed awful queer when I told him, and he hnrted iny arm,
awful bail. And then he went oft' and left me."
Mrs. Franklin became very white. "I think yon will
have to excuse me, children. I — I do not feel very well.
I will go lie down. Jack, your arm, please."
Jack sprang to help her, and led her from the room.
Cynthia only waited to scold Janet for her idle chatter,
and then followed.
"But it's true, Cynthia," her small sister called after her.
"It's true, and you're real mean losayit isn't. You just
ask Edith."
When Mr. Franklin returned and learned that his hastily
uttered words of the morning had been repeated to his u it',-
and lo Neal, lie was distressed beyond measure. •• My dear,
I never meant it, ''he said. " Hester, you must know thai.
1 could not really believe that Neal would do such a thing.
li was impossible to help remarking upon the singular co
inciilencc. I never thought the child would hear me. What
shall I ilo with her .' She ought not to have repeated what
I said."
" Do nothing, John. Janet is nol to Manic-: naturally a.
child of her age would net it wrong. I'.ul oh, [ a in rc-hc-M-d
to lind you did not re-ally think it! It gave me such a
shock to hear that yon thought him capable of such an ac-
tion."
"Where is the hoy? I want to tell him myself."
But Neal could not be found. Cynthia and Jack hunted
over the place, looking for him in all his haunts. He was
not on the river, for his canoe was iu its place. He had not
'4"iie to the village, for no horse was out, and whether In-
had walked or driven, his sister would have met him when
she returned from Boston. He could not have gone for a
walk, for Bob had been left at home, and Neal never walked
wit hout Bob.
A horrible foreboding seized Cynthia. What if Xeal had
run away? But no; surely he would never do such a thing.
The idea of her even thinking of it, when sxich a course
would only make people believe that he had really taken
the money. Cynthia scolded herself severely for having
allowed the supposition to come into her mind. But where
was he? Asa last resource she called Jauet to her and
again questioned the child closely. They were standing
on the drive in front of the house.
" What did Neal say to you, Janet, when he went off?"
"<>h, he was awful mad, I told yon, Cynthia. He was
just mad."
" But did he say anything .'"
" Oh yes, lots. But I forget what."
" Can't yon remember anything, Jauet ? Not one word ?
Did he say where he was going?"
"No-o," drawled Jauet, "he just said — My, Cynthia,
look at that bluebird! It's a real bluebird, snre's you're
alive. Wish I could catch him."
"But, Jauet, never mind the bird. What did Xeal
saj .'"
" Oh, he said good - by and he was going. Cynthia, I
h'lieve if I had some salt to put on that bird's tail I could
catch him. Mayn't I, Cynthia? Mayn't I get some salt
and put it on his tail ?''
" No, you can't !" cried Cynthia, stamping her foot. "I
do wish you would tell me all Xeal said."
"There, now, you're in an angry passion," observed her
small sister, gazing at her calmly ; "you've let your angry
passions rise. You frightened that bird away, a-staiupin"
of your foot that way. Aren't you "shamed!"
"Oh, Jauet, never mind. Please tell me. Did he really
say good-hy ?"
"Will you give me your coral necklace if I tell yon all
he- said ?" said Janet, who was ever prompt to seize an op-
portunity.
"Yes, yes! Anything!"
" Wc-11, he said — Are you sure you mean it, Cynthia ? 1
want the coral necklace with the nice little gold clasp
and—
"Yes, I know," groaned Cynthia. "I've only got one
coral necklace, yon dreadful child ! Go on, do go on !"
"My, Cynthia! You're terrible impatient, and I guess
your angry passions have riz again. Well, he said, ' Cioml-
by forever; I'm going away;' and off he went."
" Was that all ? Truthfully, Janet?"
" Yes, truthfully all. He said he wouldn't stay any longer
'cause he was salted, or something."
"Salted!"
" Yes, or 'suited, or some word like that."
" /Hsnlted. do you mean ?"
" Yes, I guess so. And now w here's the necklace?"
[TO HE CONTINUED.]
939
STORIES OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.
BY HENRIETTA CHRISTIAN WRIGHT.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
I ATE on almost any summer day early in this
century a blue -eyed,
;*:£;> brown-haired lad might
j^J'R liave been seen lying
i\^i* under a great applc-t ive
^-.-Mrfte^T^ ju the garden of an old
house in Portland, for-
get ful of every tbiug else
in the world save the
book he was reading.
The boy \v:is Henry
Wadsworth Longfel-
low, and the book
might have been L'ohiii-
sun Crusoe, The Ar/iliinn
\ii/lils, Dun <>n<j-ol< , nil of which were favorites ; or possibly
it was Irving's Sketeli JlunJc, of which he was so fond that
even the covers delighted him. and whose charm remained
unbroken throughout life. Years afterward, when, as a
famous man of letters, he was called upon to pay his tribute
to the memory of Irving, he could think of no more tender
praise than to speak with grateful affection of the book
which had so fascinated him as a boy, and whose pages
.slill led him back into the " haunted chamber of youth."
It was during Longfellow's childhood that the British
ship Boxer was captured by the Enterprise iu the famous
sea-light of the war of 1812; the two captains who had
fallen in the battle were buried side by side in the ceme-
tery at Portland, and the whole town came together to do
honor to the dead commanders. Long years afterward
Longfellow speaks of this incident in his poem entitled
" My Lost Youth," and recalls the sounds of the cannon
booming over the waters, and the solemn stillness that fol-
lowed the news of the victory.
It is in this same poem that we have a picture of the
Portland of his early life, and are given glimpses of the.
black wet wharves where were the ships moored, and the
Spanish sailors, " with bearded lips," who seemed as much
a mystery to the boy as the ships themselves. These came
and went across the sea, always watched and waited for
with greatest interest by the children who loved the ex-
citement of the unloading and loading, the shouts of the
surveyors who were mea-
suring the contents of cask
and hogshead, the sougs of
the iiegroes working the
pulleys, the jolly good na-
ture of the seamen stroll-
ing through the streets,
and, above all, the sight
of the strange treasures
that came from time to
time into one home or an-
other— bits of coral, beau-
tiful sea-shells, birds of re-
splendent plumage, for-
eign coins, which looked
odd even in Portland,
where all the money near-
ly was Spanish, and the
hundred and one things
dear to the hearts of sail-
ors and children. It was
during his school-boy days
that Longfellow publish-
ed his first bit of verse.
It was inspired by hearing
the story of a famous tight
which took place on the
shores of a small lake call-
ed LovelPs Pond, between
the two Lovells and the
Indians. Longfellow was
deeply impressed by this story, and threw his feeling of
admiration into four stanzas, which he carried with a beat-
ing heart down to the letter-box of the Portland fiii;itli-,
taking an opportunity to slip the manuscript in when no
one was looking.
The next morning Longfellow watched his father nn-
folil the paper, read it slowly before the fire, and finally
leave the room, when the sheet was grasped by the boy and
his sister, who shared his confidence, and hastily scanned.
The poem was there in the "poets' corner" of the <ia:ette,
and Longfellow was so filled with exultant joy that he
spent the greater part of the remainder of the day in read-
ing and rereading the verses, becoming convinced toward
evening that they promised remarkable merit. His happi-
ness was dimmed, however, a few hours later, when the
father of a boy friend, with whom he was passing the even-
ing, pronounced the verses stiff and entirely lacking in
originality. Longfellow slipped away as soon as possible
to nurse his wounded feelings in his own room, and instead
of letting the incident discourage him, began with renewed
vigor to write veises, epigrams, essays, and tragedies, which
he produced in a literary partnership with one of his hoy
friends. None of these effusions had any literary value,
being no better than any boy of thirteen or fourteen would
produce if he turned his attention to literature instead of
to bat and ball.
Longfellow remained in Portland until his sixteenth
year, when he went to Bowdoin College, entering the Soph-
omore Class. Here he remained for three years, gradually
coining a name for scholarship and character that was
second to none. However much he enjoyed college sports
and fun, he never distinguished himself iu any act that
called for even the mildest censure from the college au-
thorities. The love of order, the instinct of obedience to
proper authority, and his naturally quiet tastes kept him
from any transgression of the rules that seemed irksome to
those of more excitable natures ami less carefully trained.
Through his entire college career Longfellow kept the re-
spect and affection of many of the students whose natural
tendencies led them often into mischief, but who none the
less highly esteemed the graver qualities of their friend.
Immediately after his graduation he was ottered the
THE SPANISH SAILORS WITH liEARDED LH'S.
040
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
chair of modern lan-
guages in Uowdoin,
w n h iiermission from
the college authori-
ties to visit Em"|h
for the purpose of fit-
ting himself for his
new duties. Accord-
ingly at the age of
nineteen Longfellmv
sailed for France, vis-
iting also Spain,
Italy, and Germany,
meeting with adven-
ture everywhere, ami
storing up memory
after memory that
came hack in afler-
ye.-irs tn serve some
purpose of his art.
We have thus pre-
served in his works
the impressions that
Europe then made
upoii a young Amer-
ican who had come
there to supplement
his education by
studying at the uni-
versities, and whose
mind was alive to all the culture denied it in his own
land. The grandeur of the world of antique art pre-
served in the museums, the works of living artists
whose names were famous, the magnificence of the cathe-
drals and palaces, the thousand memories clustered around
the old historic towns and cities, the picturesque details of
peasant life, the gay student life which was so unlike that
of the American youth that it seemed a different world, all
struck Longfellow with a new and pleasant feeling of rich-
ness, as if the world had suddenly become wider, and full
of stores of unsuspected wealth. One of Longfellow's great
pleasures while on this trip was the meeting with Irving
in Spain, where the latter was busy with his Life of Co-
lutiibus.
The vividness of his impressions of European life was
SITU upon all hi* work, anil was perhaps the first reflection
of the old poetic
European influ-
ence that began
to be felt in much
American poetry,
where the charm
of old peasant
love songs and
rnnndclays, heard
for centuries
among the lower
classes of Spain,
France, and Italy,
was wrought into
translation and
transcription so
perfect and spirit-
ed that they may
almost rank with
original work.
Longfellow re-
turned to Ann1! iea
after three years'
absence, and at
once began his
duties at Bowdoiu
College, remaining
three \ears. when
he left to take a
Professorship at
Harvard, which he
HIS FIRST POEM. liacl accepted with
LONGFELLOW'S HOME AT CAMBRIDGE.
It
the understanding that he was to spend a year and a half
abroad before commencing his work. Two years after his
return he published his first vol nine of poems, and his ro-
mance Hyperion. In Hyperion, Longfellow relates some
of the experiences of his own travels under tin- guise of
the hero, who wanders through Europe, and the book is
full of the same biographical charm that belongs to lliitrr
Her. Here the student life of the German youths.the songs
they sang, the books they read, and even their favorite
foods are noted, while the many translations of German
poetry opened a new field of delight to American readers.
It was well received by the public, who appreciated its line
poetic fancy and its wealth of serious thought, lint it was
not, by his prose that Longfellow touched the deepest sym-
pathies of his readers, and the publication of his Ihst vol-
ume of poetry a few months later showed his real position
in the world of American letters This little book, \\hich
was issued under the title I'niee* nt' tin .\i;//it. consisted of
the poems that had so far appeared in the various maga-
zines and papers, a few poems written in his college days,
and some translations from the French, German, and Span-
ish ports. In this volume occurs some of Longfellow's
choicest work, the gem of the book being the celebrated
•• I'-alm of Life."
It is from this point that Longfellow goes onward, al-
ways as the favorite poet of the American people. The
"Psalm of Life " had been published previously in a maga-
zine without the author's name, and it had no sooner 1>< •< -n
read than it seemed to find its wa\ into everj heart Min-
isters read it to their congregations all over the country ,
and it was sung as a hymn in main elmreli.-s. It was
copied in almost every newspaper in the I'niied States, it
was recited by every school-child, and years afterwards one
of America's greatest men said that in one of the darkest
hours of his life he had been cheered and uplifted l.\ its
noble, spirit. To young and old alike it brought its mes-
sage,'and its voice was recognized as that of a tine le:nh i
The author of Outre .!/«• and Hiiprrion had well touched
hands with millions of his brothers and sisters, and the
clasp was never unloosed while he lived.
In the same collection occurs " The, Footsteps of Ani;i Is,"
another well-beloved poem, and one in which the spirit of
home life is made the inspiration.
Longfellow's poems now followed one another in rapid
succession, appealing generally at tirst in some magazine,
and afterward in book form in various collections under
different titles.
His greatest contributions to American literature arc his
941
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
" Evaugeline" ami •• Hiawatha," and a score of shorter
poems, which iii themsehes would give the author a high
place in any literature.
In " Evangeline " Longfellow took for his theme the story
of tin- destruction of the Acadian villages ill Nova Scotia
by the English during the French and Indian war. Long-
fellow lias made of tliis sad story a wondroiisly beautiful
tale that reads like an old legend of Grecian Arcadia.
The description of the great primeval forests stretching
down to the sea: of the villages and farms scattered over
the land as unprotected as the nests uf the meadow-lark;
of the sowing and harvesting of the peasant folks, with
their fetes and chnrch-going. their weddings and festivals ;
and the pathetic search of Evangeliue for her lost- lover
Gabriel among the plains of Louisiana — all show Longfel-
low in his finest mood as a poet whom the sorrows of man-
kind touched always with reverent pity, as well as a writer
of noble verse.
Everywhere that the English language is read, "Evange-
liue" has passed as the most beautiful folk-story that Amer-
ica has produced : and the French Canadians, the far-away
brothers of the Acadians. have included Longfellow among
their national poets. Among them" Evangeline" is known
by heart, and the eases are not rare where the people have
learned English expressly for the purpose of reading Long-
fellow's poem in the original, a wonderful tribute to the
poet who could thus touch to music one of the saddest
memories of their rare.
In " Hiawatha" Longfellow gave to the Indian the place
in poetry that had been given him by Cooper in prose.
"Hiawatha" is a poem of the forests and of the dark-
skinned race who dwelt therein, who were learned only
in forest-lore, and lived as near to nature's heart as the
fanns and satyrs of old. Into this legend Longfellow has
put all the poetry of the Indians' nature, and has made his
hero, Hiawatha, a noble creation, that compares favorably
with the King Arthur of the. old British romances. From
first to last Hiawatha moves among the people a real
leader, showing them how to clear their forests, to plant
grain, to make for themselves clothing of embroidered and
painted skins, to improve their fishing-grounds, and to
live at peace with their neighbors. From the time when
he was a little child, and his grandmother told him all the.
fairy-tales of nature, up to the day when, like Arthur, he
passed mysteriously through the gates of the sunset, all
his hope anil joy and work were for his people. He is a
creature that could only have been born from a mind as
pure and poetic as that of Longfellow. All the scenes and
images of the poem are so true to nature that they seem
liUe very breaths from the forests. \Ve move with Hia-
watha through the dewy birchen aisles, learn with him the
language of the. nimble squirrel and of the wise beaver and
mighty hear, watch him build his famous canoe, and spend
hours with him fishing in the waters of the great inland
sea, bordered by the great pictured rocks painted by nature
itself. Longfellow's first idea, of the poem was suggested,
it is said, by his hearing a Harvard student recite some
Indian talcs. Searching among the various hooks that
treated of the American Indians.be found many legends
and incidents th:il preserved fairly well the traditional
history of the Indian race, and grouping these around one
central figure, and tilling in the gaps with poetic descrip-
tions of the forests, mountains, lakes, rivers, and plains
which ruade up the abode of these picturesque people, he
thus built up the entire poem. The metre used is that in
'which the "KalevalaTheau," the national epic of the Finn,
is written, and the Finnish hero Wainamoinen, in his gift
of song and his brave adventures, is not unlike the great
Hiawatha.
Among Longfellow's other long poems are ".The Spanish
student. "a. dramatic poem founded upon a Spanish ro-
mance : "The Divine Tragedy "and "The Golden Legend,"
founded upon the life, of Christ ; "The Courtship of Miles
Standish." a tale of puritan love-making in the time of the
early settlers; and "Tales of a Wayside Inn," which are a
series of poems of adventure supposed to he related by the
guests at an inn.
But it is with such poeins as " Evaugeliue" and " Hia-
watha, "and the shorter famous poems like the "Psalm of
Life," " F.xcelsior." "The Wreck of the _//<*/» 'nix." "The
Building of the Ship," "The Footsteps of Angels," that his
claim as the favorite poet of America has its founda-
tion. " The Building of the Ship " was never read
dm ing the struggle of the civil war without raising the
audience to a passion of enthusiasm ; and so in each of these
shorter poems Longfellow touched with wondrous sym-
pathy the hearts of his readers. Throughout the land he
was received as the poet of the home and heart : the sweet
singer to whom the fireside and family gave ever sacred
and beautiful meanings.
Some poems on slavery, a prose tale called " Kavanajh."
and a translation of the " Divine Comedy " of Dante, must
also be included among Longfellow's work ; but these have
never reached the success attained by bis more popular
poems, which are known by heart by millions.
Longfellow died in Cam bridge in 1882, in the same month
in viliich was written his last poem, "The Bells of San
Bias," which concludes with these words,
"It is daybreak everywhere."
H
JOHN CABOT.
ICKETV. pickety, John Cabot
Longed to discover a brand-new spot.
He found Cape Breton, and. well content.
As fast as the billows would take him, he went
Back to his home with a \ery high head,
And unto King Henry the Seventh he said,
"1 have found China, that empire old.
Give me a garment all trimmed with gold."
Hickcty, pickety, John Cabot,
Garments and titles and honors he got.
And he said to his barber one summer day,
"I have an island to give away.
An island in China, a very nice spot.
I hope you will like it," quoth John Cabot.
Hickety, pickety, bless my heart,
To o\\n an island is very smart.
"To own an island is great indeed,"
The barber he said, "and a title I'll need.
And I'll wear a mantle all trimmed with lace,
And never again will I shave a face."
But alas for the barber, and poor John too,
Their titles and honors and airs fell through.
It was only a corner of Canada, not
The Chinese Empire which John Cabot
Had found in 1497
And unto his barber so freely had given.
So then this poor barber of John Cabot
Back to his shaving went trit-ty-te-tmt,
Both of his island and title bereft,
Lucky indeed that his razor was left.
But hickety, pickety, John Cabot
b'eally discovered a brand-new spot.
w
THE KACING YACHT OF TO-DAY.
BY L. A. TEKEBEL.
HEN the Anterifti's Cup was first contested for, a
good many years ago, the boats that competed for it,
were out-and-out yachts — pleasure craft that could be of
service to their owners for other purposes besides cup-
hunting and cup-defending. But, the craft that we see
taking part in the international races nowadays are no-
thing more nor less than racing-machines. These are built
solely to take part in the struggle with the Britisher, just
us the Britisher is built solely to sail against the fastest
Yankee; and after the cup contests are over these $250,000
beauties are of no further use, except, of course, to win
other races. When I say that they are of no further use,
I do not mean this statement to he taken as literally true,
because the boats can be reconstructed and remodelled
for cruising purposes, and sometimes are, but they cannot
he used for anything but racing when in the condition they
942
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
.smaller boat.-, and Lord Dunraven himself has been re-
ported as saying In- thought it would be advisable to re-
strict the length of the racers to seventy-five feet. A few
years ago there were 110 such restrictions, but when Puri-
l/in was luiilt to meet Gcnesta it, was uiiitually decided by
the Englishmen and the Americans that the sloops should
not exceed ninety feet on the water-line.
But the builders have, to a certain extent neutralized
this rule by giving their yachts such an overhang fore and
. rapid-
ly. Following this natural phenomenon, the keel of !><•-
fenili'i- is bulging at the bow and tapering at the stern.
Just as the size and position of c\cry stone in a lari;e
building are figured out before the work is liegun. so was
every part of Difi •nilir design •<! and laid out in the mould
loft at Bristol long before Ilie net mil work of construction
could commence. The mould loft is a very large room,
with a spacious floor and plenty of light. On the floor
every part of Defender was sketched out in chalk to the
aft that they can stand much more sail than other sloops of actual size required. Every beam and section was at
larger dimensions. We have probably reached the limit in
expense of yacht-building this year, however, and I doubt
if any cup defender will ever be built to cost more than the
present one. A new class, called half-raters (restricted to
15 feet racing length), is coming into popularity, and the
•Seawanhaka-Corintliia.li Yacht Club is to hold international
races of boats of that kind next month. This new class in
international matches will doubtless claim some of the in-
terest that has been given to the giant single-stickers, and
in years to come the expense involved in the defense of the
American Cup ought not to be so excessive.
But to return to the yachts themselves, and to what I
said about their uselessness as cruisers. The Valkyrie that
sailed against Defender on September 7th was not the Val-
kyrie that crossed the ocean in August. The racer is an
empty shell, with a towering mast and thousands of square
feet of sail, whereas the travelling Valkyrie was the home
•of the forty or forty-five men who constituted her crew, and
she was a two-masted craft — with stubby masts at that.
As the one aim of both Valkyrie and Defender is to attain
the highest possible speed, everything is done that experi-
ence and money can do to make the boats as light and as
swift-sailing as possible. The one thought of the builders
from the moment they got the orders to design the yachts
was to make the shape of each boat the best to cut through
the water, and the sails the most efficient to catch every
breath of air stirring overhead.
In order that his rival might not know what kind of a boat
was going to be turned out, both the English and the Ameri-
can architects worked with the greatest secrecy, and even
after the boats had been launched and seen by the public
their true measurements were withheld. But enough is
known about the construction of racing sloops in general,
and sufficient has leaked out about the building of Defemli /
in particular, for us to have a pretty good knowledge of the
boat that was depended upon to keep the America's Cup on
this side of the water.
About three mouths were required for the construction
of Defender. She was built at Bristol, Rhode Island. The
plans were first fully discussed by the owners and the archi-
tect and his assistants, and were then laid out on paper to
a scale, probably one inch to the foot — although this would
make a pretty large working plan. But still, the larger a
plan is the better, and in an important matter of this kind
no pains arc spared to reach perfection. A model of a yacht
under construction is unnecessary, and is seldom made, ex-
•cept for the pleasure or curiosity of the owner.
It was decided to give up the centreboard this year —
much to the disappointment of a great many patriotic
yachtsmen, for the centreboard is a purely American insti-
tution— and the plaus were consequently designed for a
keel boat. Defender's keel is of lead, and weighs 80 tons.
It is -5 feet 6 inches high, 3 feet 6 inches wide, and :!5 feet
long on top, and was cast in the shop where the yacht
was built, for such a weight as that could not very well
be moved from one end of a ship-yard to the other. A
•cross section of this lead keel would look very much like
the cross section of a pear cut lengthwise, with the bulge
at the bottom. Fore and aft it is shaped somewhat like a
whale, or a cat-fish — that is, it is largest for \\aid and tapers
toward the stern. This doubtless seems strange to a great
•many unobservant landsmen, who know that ships are nsu-
rately laid down, and the workmen made wooden moulds
or patterns from these sketches. To these wooden moulds
the metal ribs and frames were afterwards bent. This
work was done on the " bending table" by methods fully
described in an article on ship-building published in No.
784 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. When the steel ribs
were satisfactorily completed, and had been found to be
exactly as designed in the mould loft, they were taken into
the shed where the yacht was being constructed. This
shed, by-the-way, was a harder place to get into than the
palace of the Czar. The doors were kept locked all the
time, and watchmen were on duty day and night to drive
away intruders. Only the owners, the architects, and the
workmen were permitted to enter.
The keel, which is made of cast brass in three sections,
was bolted to the lead with great screws from six to eight
inches long, and the ribs were riveted to the keel and
steadied across the top with wooden cross spalls until the
deck beams were ready to be put on. The latter are of
aluminium bronze. Everything in the make up of the
yacht so far has been metal, and everything will be metal
to the end. Even the stern and stem are brass castings,
and there is no wood in the body of Defender, except the
deck, which is of d! -inch light pine. The two or three parti-
lions inside of her are made of canvas stretched on light
pine frames, and the only other wood on board is in the
mast. Even the boom is metal — that is, since Viilkiii-ie came
over with a steel boom.
To the ribs were riveted the plates, which are of man-
ganese bronze, which is a kind of refined brass, only three-
sixteenths of an inch thick, and the upper two streaks are
of aluminium. This aluminium is said to be almost pure,
and is the lightest metal known.
Valkyrie is not such a metallic boat as Defender. She is
of the composite type. Her stem and stern aie of wood,
and she is planked on the outside with American elm below
water and spruce on top. This elui is an excellent wood for
yacht construction. It will not decay if kept under water,
but spoils if allowed to be wet and dry by turns. It is n^-d
a great deal in England, and yet, strange as this may seem,
it cannot be bought in the New York lumber market. It is
scarcely known here. It comes from Canada, in the neigh-
borhood of Quebec, and the whole supply is shipped to
England In Canada the elms are grown in plantations,
and cultivated so that they are straighter and taller than
those we have in the United States. Here elm is seldom
used in the construction of ships except for knees. It is also
a favorite wood for the hubs of wheels. But this elm is
the common elm, not the American elm of the English mar-
ket, which, as I have said, is hardly ever seen on this CIM-I.
But although Valkyrie's hull and stern are of wood, her
frames are of nickel steel strapped together with steel rib-
bons running at an angle. Thus, before her planking was
put on, she must have looked like a huge steel basket.
The masts of both yachts are of Oregon pine. And with
re uard to this Oregon pine another peculiar feature of tin-
Atlantic coast lumber market becomes apparent. Ten
years ago Oregon pine was not known here. Ship-builders
did not use it. But the Britishers did, and all the Oregon
pine that could be purchased used to be shipped to 1 »
land in sailing-vessels that went around Cape Horn from
Puget Sound. When our ship-builders finally discovered
U43
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
PRPRNPKIl.
THE CHALLENGER AND DEFENDER OF THE
" VALKYRIE.'1
'AMERICA'S" CUP IN DRY DOCK.
that tliis pine was about the best that could be had for
masts and spars, they tried to buy some, but they foil ml
they had to go to English markets to get it. Within the
past few years, however, more and more Oregon pine has
been offered for sale on this coast, and it is probable that
Dt fender's mast was not imported from England. The first
boom of Defender was also of Oregon pine. This bootn
cost nearly $2000,
and was Imilt
like a barrel, or
rather like two
barrels — one on
the outside of the
other. This was
to give addition-
al strength. The
inner boom was
hooped together
with steel bands,
ami then the out-
er layer of pine
staves was fitted
on and hooped
with brass rings.
But when Frt/ti/-
•• I.IHIMIKI:." ,•„ appeared in
dry dock he-re
and begun to
put on her racing togs, the Defender syndicate saw the
Britisher's steel boom, and forthwith set about to build one
like it. fiilki/rie'* boom is the first of the kind ever seen
in this country, and probably the first, of the kind ever
made. Some of the big sailing ships of commerce have had
steel yards, and racing-boats abroad have sometimes been
fitted with spars of drawn steel ; but nothing like this boom
of Talki/riv had ever before been attempted. It is hollow,
of course, and although of steel, is about one ton lighter
than the pine boom that Defender first carried. The
American yacht's steel boom is now a counterpart of her
rival's. It is made in sections that are riveted together
through flauges that project on the outer side. It is built
on the plan of an elevated railroad pillar, and looks very
much like one, being of about the same thickness, only
round instead of square, and about twice as long as the
average elevated-road pillar is high.
The sails of the racers are probably the most wonderful
part nf their whole make up. liefender, when she has her
mainsail, her jib, her jib topsail, her staysail, and her work-
ing topsail up. carries 12,000 square feet of canvas. And
when she substitutes for these working-sails her balloon
jib, her club topsail, and puts out, her spinnaker she almost
doubles that area. These sails cost thousands of dollars,
because there must be several of each in case of accident
to one or another, and for use in the different kinds of
wind that may prevail in a race. There is a heavy main-
sail for strong winds, of sea - island cotton or Egyptian
cotton or ramie cloth, while the jibs are made of lighter
grades of the same material, until they come down to the
constituency of a coarse pocket-handkerchief. One of
Defender's spinnakers is of Scotch linen. In 1H93 it was.
reported that one of Valkyrie II.'s big spinnakers was of
silk, but it was not; it was of exceedingly fine Irish linen.
Taking all these matters into account, and considering
that each boat must have from forty to fifty sailors to
man her, it becomes evident that the building and main-
taining of such a yacht is a matter of no small expense.
Mr. George Gould spent no less than $40,000 to put I'ii/ilnut
in condition to race with Defender in the preliminary trials
this year. The crew has to be engaged and trained for
weeks before the racer is put into commission, and kept
at work for a couple of months before the great contests
for the Cup are held. These sailors, of course, cannot live
on the yacht, since there is no room for bunks or locker*
or a galley on the modern racing-machine. Therefore both
Defeinler and 1'iilki/i-ie have steam-tenders.
There is really something humorous about a crew of sail-
ors leaving their hollow unbunked boat every evening to
go to bed in a tender near by. At meal -time, too, the gal-
lant tars have to seek their floating hotel. When Defender
was with the New York Yacht Squadron on this summer's
cruise she reached port one evening ahead of most of the
fleet, and of her slow consort. She was too deep of
draught to net far into the harbor, and being a "racer" she
had nothing aboard but men and sails, a small anchor,,
and a small dingy. Consequently the crew sat on the
deck for several hours, with their legs hanging over the
sides, waiting for the Hattie Palmer to come along and
give them their supper.
A great num-
ber of Ameri-
cans— and I am
one of them —
would have pre-
ferred to see
Defender built
on the Amer-
ican centre-
board plan, all
of American ma-
terial, and with-
out borrowing
British ideas, es-
pecially as to
the boom. They
were sorry to
hear that Mr.
Gould last year
wanted Mr. Rat-
sey, Valleyne's
sail-maker, to make Vigilant'* sails, and they were very glad
when the loyal and patriotic Ratsey (credit be to him for
it !) refused tn take the order. But, after all, this great
number of Americans has nothing to say in the matter,
and all they — and I — want is to see Defender win by fair
means the matches she was built to race in, aud the Cup
she was built to defend.
944
INTERSCHOEASTIC
THE ONLY SCHOOL IN THIS COUNTRY that I know of
where rowing takes the leading position in sports is St.
Paul's of Concord. There is rowing done at other schools,
of course, as at Cascadilla, near Ithaca, and at St. John's,
Delafield, Wisconsin, but at none of these institutions has
the membership of each. Since then the interest and en-
thusiasm in the sport have grown so steadily, that the annu-
al race ill June between the Halcyon and Shattuck crews is
looked upon as the principal athletic event of the school
year. Each club puts three crews on the water — a first
crew of eight men and a cockswain, using a regular racing-
shell; a second crew of six men and a cockswain, using a
gig; and a third crew of four men and a cockswain, also
using a gig. Captains are elected for every crew, and the
captains of the first crews are the captains of their clubs.
The rowing is done on Lake Penacook, which affords a very
good mile-and-a-half course, and is within easy distance
of the school buildings.
Whitbeck, 5. Glidd
Sturpes, stroke.
NieJechen,4. Stewarl, stroke. Hart, cock'n. Wheeler, 6 (Capt). McDuffie, 7.
THE HALCYON CREW.
the art reached the stage of perfection which characterizes
the work of the St. Paul's oarsmen. It is doubtless because
rowing has been indulged in there for almost twenty-five
years, -whereas at the other schools I have mentioned boat-
ing is a comparative novelty. It is growing in popularity
as a scholastic sport, however, and in a few years I have no
doubt that every school situated close enough to a lake or
a river will have a crew, just as almost every school nowa-
days has an eleven and a nine.
IT WAS IN 1871 THAT THE TWO ROWING CLUBS were formed
at St. Paul's, and the scholars divided about evenly in
THE SHATTUCK CREW.
THE FIRST RACE between the rival clubs was held in 1871,
the year of their organization. The crews rowed in four-
oared barges over a two-mile course. The best time made
was 8 minutes and 53 seconds. In 1874 the course was
BHATTTJOK.
THE ST. PAUL'S CREWS IN THE WATER.
945
HAEPER'S BOUND TABLE
changed to If miles, and each clul> organized a second SF.OONH OEKW.
crew, owing to the increasing number of candidates for a Howard L o,Fal, stroke alld o.ptai,, s^f-Z "lio"' is"*
scat in the boat. These crews also rowed in tour-oared Albert L. Nickerson, No. 5 6 i 165
barges, as did the thirds, which were organized a few years Jame^Dk ^'BR^e'No'.s * U 3"4 J^
lain-, lu 1883 the first crews rowed in six-oared barges for [.||.,<|fi"Co'<;iebay,<'Nne'2.0.'.V.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'./.'.'.'.'.'.'.'. 5 81-2 160
the first time. The course was made two miles. This gave George c°Besick, bow... 5 9 140 n 5
a new interest to the sport, and many fine oarsmen began to Averages 5101-2 1492-3 178
develop. The best time for the two miles was made in Cockswain, Harold C. Meal, weight 90 Ibs.
\-> minutes 32 seconds, which is a very good showing for a TUTKI> OEKW.
crew made up of novices. In 1891 the first crews of both ^ H^U. w,g, ^
clubs began to row in eights, and the course was made a Constuiit D. Huntington, No. 3 6 is T
mile and one-half without a turn. The fastest eight rowed James Q. Averell, No. 2
over the course in 8 minutes 25 seconds, and although the DouSlas Halliday, bow. . .
ere w of '94 claim 8 minutes and 8 seconds, the former figure Averages ---^-^-^^ ; -J, • » % lb, »» '
stands as the record at the present time.
HALCYON BOAT CLUB.
THE ROUTINE OF TRAINING IS SIMILAR to that of the col- FIUST OKKW.
lege crews. Soon after the Christmas recess all applicants jnhn T S( M ^^ ™*u w*ht. fr.
are taken in charge by the trainer and the older men trom Harry JUcDuffie, No. 7 6 165 18
former crews. The candidates are divided into squads and Herbert Wheeler, No. « and Captain. .. 169 17 5^
put to work at calisthenics, weight-pulling, and the first J,^"1, xiede'cke^No. i'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'. 6 174 174
principles of rowing on the hydraulic rowing-machines. Richard N. Wilcox, No. 3 511
This goes on through the winter, and one by one the poor- J|^&Bgg££fcsv; .' ; " ::;;;::; ;:::::;;: g 9l If, \l 5
er material is dropped and the crews are chosen. As soon
as the snow is off the ground the running begins; short c^S^.HicrJG.HarV/^lBht iboibs.5
distances at first, increasing to two or three miles The
gymnasium work meantime continues, ami the mysteries SKOOND CREW.
of the stroke are gradually unfolded at the machines, Gri8wold Greer,)8t,.oke and Captain "T" "m" ifs
and each member of the crew is coached, prodded, and Livingston L Biddle, No. 5 510
scolded into proper form, until at Easter the men have gggjg^^ai::::"::::: '.:::'.'.'.'.: «' 156 III
learned the full stroke. Leonard M. Thomas, No. 2 58 146 17 2
Frederick C. Biugham, bow 56 135
WHEN THE SCHOOL EEOPENS after the Easter recess the Averages . 5S2-3 1481-3 1761-2
daily work continues, with practice in the water on a small Cockswain, James C. Cooley, weight 105 Ita.
pond by the gymnasium. A working boat of two or four THIRD OEEW.
oars, with the coach, for a cockswain, is used for this pur- Heieht. Weight. *ee.
pose. As soon as the course at Lake Penacook is open the |SS'?^SSSX«""':" '•'"•" '* "* ™ " <>
crews row there everv afternoon, except Sundays, going Augustus B. Berger, No. 2 56 126 165
and coming in four-horse barges. Here the drudgery stops, Joseph D. Forbes, bow 583-4 _149
and the interesting though hard work begins. The coach Averages 581-2 140 1691-2
shouts and gesticulates from a pair oar, men are changed
about in the boats, cockswains are taught to use the seem- -
in.lv simple rudder, and the captains exhort their crews in , IT'S APPARENT AT ONCE from these tables that both of
lan,niage which strangers might consider superexpressive. <h« "»* crews we™ m»de. "P ?f .fT « ^ f1, aU<1
Wife,, hands are sureAud muscles harder the full course is ^3 young men. Of the two eighty the fehattucks how-
a, tempted, and the time is taken. This is generally repre- "'er, proved themselves the better. Their time and blade-
sented to the oarsmen as rather poor, and the necessity «'°'k "'ere I?00/' bu* '» «}>lte ° th's they ravel edtl.von.uh
for doing better is constantly impressed upon them. »ue ^\ ^l™ tu™ .^e'r ','"' J f * "",? ,7
Nus. 4 and 5, will certainly be heard from in college, as they
are both good athletes and fine oars. The former goes to
ON ACCOUNT OF THE VICE-RECTOR'S views as to how ath- Yale aud tbe ,atter to Harval.d. Tbe Halcyons excelled
letics should be conducted in his school, the date for the oyel. tbe sbattllcUs iu ,,^.,,,.,..,1 forn,; but still their blade-
final race iu June is never set or definitely announced much u.or,. was hard) satisfactorv. Of the Halcyons, Whr.-ln-,
before the day of the event. Tins is done so that the good who rroes tQ Pl.iliceton au(l Stewart, who goes to Yale, were
people of Concord shall not know when the races are to be, t]]e begt oars Botb crewg ^.ere ma(le up of o](1 meu wl)0 had
and may thus not avail themselves of the opportunity to rowed beforei aud consequeiitly a very close race was ex-
see some good rowing. This spring, in order to carry this tcd wben th n]et <)U Lake Peuacoob. It was thought
principle to an extreme, the races, as was told m this De- , tbe Halcyol)S'tll.,f thcv wolll(1 will „„ tileir evel, stroke
partment of July 2d, were rowed iu the morning instead of aud 8mooth finish. Aud tue backers of the " Shads " inain-
in the afternoon, as has been usual, and only the members taiued that tbe g^eugtij of their crew would pull them out
of the school knew of this in time to reach the shores of abead Tbe race was ,,owed Qn t]]e moruing of Jlule mu,
Peuacook. There is always a great deal of excitement and tbe „ ghads „ wiunin<r by five iengti,s. They lost the second
enthusiasm displayed on the occasion of the contests, and after a luck race and'a]so tbe third. The Halcyons wnv
at the close of the day the colors of the winning club are ratber m)t of jt most of tbe time Tbey bad not tbe ,,sr.
hoisted ou the school flag-pole. ing powel. to keep 1]p tbeir pacej and so wljiie tbeir form
grew poorer, that of the Shattucks improved. The ti
THE CREWS THIS YEAR were made up as follows: 9 minutes 30 secouds was very poor; but as the crews had
never rowed iu the morning before, this must be taken into
SHATTUCK BOAT CLUB. account.
FIRST OEEW.
HeiBht Weicht. THE GRKAT FAULT OF THE CREWS at St. Paul's is that
Walter K. Stnrges, stroke 5 i 1-2 159
Allan s. Woodle, No. T 5101-2 164 17 u they are very liable to lose their form in the excitement oi
Geoi ;e Small, No « and Captain... . a race, and each man gets to row his own stroke. This is
Jame8erKHHoTly!tNeo':14.I!< '.I'.'. '.'.'.I'.'.'. '•'. 6 165 1810 not so noticeable in the first crews as iu the seconds and
William F.Cocnran, No. 3 583-4 134 194 thirds. Nevertheless the Concord School turns out the
H±yMMG1Lodcekwo?d,2bovv::: I."::: 8 ll 1-2 ™ II 2 best oarsmen that go to the universities, some of tbe best
8 101 2 159 1 2 jjY" known being Phil Allen, George Brewster, Stillman, Goet-
Coctawafn9,Pavker Wnitney,'weight9o'lbs. chius, Hickock, and Fenessy. But it is to be regretted that,
946
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE UNIVERSITY OP CHICAGO INTERSCHOI.ASTK • LAWN-TENNIS TOVKNAMENT.
Preliminary Round.
H. H. Lay (M.P.A.l.
H. Poppen (H.P.H.).
P. D. McQiiiston (C.A.).
M. A. Warren (L.F.A.).
W. C. Powell (L.V.H.).
0. M. KavmiMnl (H.S.)
P. Staley (N.D.H.).
K. White (E.H.)
First Round.
W. Besjgs (C.M.).
Anderson (P Y.).
j-Lay, 6-3,3-6,6-0.
[ ^! collision, 2-6, 1-5, 6-1.
!• Powell, 6-4, 6-0.
j- Staley, 6-1,6-1.
A. Vernon (E.H.M.).
A. Johnston (W.U.).
Second Round,
j- Beggs, 6-1, 7-5.
(•Lay, 6-1, 6-3.
V Staley, 6-1, 6-3.
.- A. Vernon, 6-1, 8-6.
Final Round.
Beggs, 6-1, 6-3.
Sl:il,.y, 6-1, 4-6, 0-3. .
Beggs, 2-0, 6-2, 6-2, 3-6, 6-2.
Preliminary Round.
Beggs-GoblefC.M.).
Gore-Garnet! (H.P.II.l.
Boyce-Puillson (H.S.).
Vermin-Clark (E.H.M.).
Stalev- Keith (N.D.H.).
Anderaon-Halsey (P.Y.).
McQiiiston Brothers (C.A.I.
Waneii-Stearns (L.F.A.).
j- Beggs and Goble, 3-6, 6-3, 6-4.
j- Buyce and Puillson, default.
} Stnley and Keith, 7-5, 3-6, 6-3
' Powell and Fallen (L.V.H.).
j- McQuiston Brothers, 6-1, 6-2.
VBeggs and Goble, 6-2, 6-2.
!• Staley and Kelt)), 6-1, 9-7.
Begge and Goble, "]
'• -'. 'J-7.
Drake and Blaclcwelder (M.P.A.). I „
Wallace andJohnston (W.D.U.). (Drake and Blackwelder, 2-6, 6-3, 6-3. J
Staley and Keith,
default.
Staley and K.:ilb,
6 -1, 6-4.
C.M.— Chicago Manual Training School
P. Y.— Princeton-Tale School.
M.P. A.— Morgan Park Academy.
H.P.H.— Hyde Park High-School.
C.A. — Chicago Academy.
L.F.A.— Lake Fort Academy.
L.V.H.— Lake View High-School.
U.S.— Harvard School.
N.D.H.— North Division High-School.
E.H.— Englewpod High-School.
E.H. M.— English High and Manual Training School.
W.D.— West Division High-School.
with snch fine men, and such well- trained
crews and t°i>ntl>:ill tf.-iins. ami l>.-isi;balluiues,
it should be the policy of the school to pro-
hibit interscholasiic contests. St. Paul's
never meets any other school on field or
water.
THE IXTERSCHOLASTIC TENNIS TOCRNA-
MEXT of the University of Chicago was held
in that city last June, the results being
shown in the accompanying table of scores.
Points counted as follows: First in singles,
5; second in singles, :S ; first in doubles,?;
second in doubles, 4. The North Division
High-School took the championship by win-
ning first place in the doubles, and second
ill the singles, earning thereby a total of 10
points. Second place went to the Chica.go
Manual Training School, whose representa-
tives took first in the singles and second in
the doubles, total, 9 points. The school
winning the greatest number of points
in three years will obtain permanent pos-
session of the trophy. The tournament
was a success, and the formation of the MS
sociatiou is bound to stimulate the growth
of the game in tho schools in the neighbor-
hood of Chicago. It is to be regretted that
Beggs was not sent to Newport. The win-
ner of next year's tournament should cer-
tainly conic East. THE GRADUATE.
TEACHER (tnciaxs in pliiloxnjiltii). "What
are the properties of heat, Willie?"
WILLIE. "The properties of heat are to
bake, cook, roast —
TEACHEK. " Stop — next. What are the
properties of heat .'"
.IIIIINNY. -The properties of beat is that it
expands bodies, while cold contracts them."
TEACHER "Very good. Can yen give me
an example ?"
JOHNNY. " Yes, sir. In summer, wben it
is very hot, t!"J day is 'ong ; in winter, \\ lieu
it is cold, \< gets i be very short."
Highest of all in Leavening Strength. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Baking
Powder
ABSOLUTELY PURE
Fall Importations of
BLACK AND COLORED
Dress Goods
Exclusive Novelties
CAJ 1 916 6t.
j
NEW YORK.
947
Good ™in
Music ; iontction.
GOOD MUSIC arouses a spirit of good-will,
creates a harmonious atmosphere, and where
harmony and good=will prevail, the disobedient,
turbulent, unruly spirit finds no resting-place.
Herbert Spencer puts his final test of any plan of
culture in the form of a question, " Does it create
a pleasurable excitement in the pupils ?" Judged
by this criterion, Music deserves the first rank,
for no work done in the school room is so surely
creative of pleasure as singing. Do we not all
agree, then, that Vocal Music has power to bene-
fit every side of the child nature ? And in these
days, when we seek to make our schools the
arenas where children may grow into symmetri-
cal, substantial, noble characters, can we afford
to neglect so powerful an aid as Music ? Let us as
rather encourage it in every way possible.
ttit find for Home or School
a better Selection of Songs and Hymns than
in the Franklin Square Song Collection.
Sold Everywhere. Price. 50 cents: Cloth
Full contents of the Several Numbers, with
men Pages of favorite Sontr> and Hymns, sent by
Harper & Brothers, New York, to any ,-uU;:
Ifafflictedwtthi
SORE EYES
:l5MC-gHRJO|ljEYEWATER
HAKPER'S EOUND TABLE
Bicycle route
fair bicycle road.
Railway station
oor road.
•f- Hofe I
BICYCLING
Copyright, IS95. by Harper & Brother*.
This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will be pleased to
answer any question on the subject. Our maps and lonrs contain much valuable data lundlv
supplied Iron, the official maps and road-boohs of the l.eagne of American Wheelmen. Recog-
nizing the value "f the work being done by the L. A. W., the Editor will be pleased to furnish
subscribers with membership blanks and information so far as possible.
WE have now finally to turn to the eastward of New
York, and take up the route from New York to
Boston. The trip from New Y'ork to Stamford (see map in
No. 811) has already been given in the ROUND TABLE, and
for an ordinary rider who is taking the trip easily this
might serve as the first day's trip, being a distance of
about twenty-eight miles. On leaving Stamford the next
morning, proceed by the Post Road and turnpike direct to
Darien. The road itself from Stamford to New Haven is
along the shore, which, at the same time that it necessitates
the crossing of several bridges during a day, also offers
many beautiful views of the Sound, and, as a usual thing,
is one of the coolest rides in summer. The road-bed, as a
rule, is in reasonably good condition ; but, where available
between villages, the side path maybe taken to advantage,
except in one or two instances, which are especially men-
tioned. From Darien to South Norwalk, a distance of four
miles, is one of these, where the rider should avoid side
paths. Crossing the railroad at Darieu, the road runs di-
rect to South Norwalk. At South Norwalk again cross the
railroad on the east of the station, and the road turning
northward, to avoid an inlet, should be followed along the
shore to Sangatuck Church, which is close by the railroad.
Here the rider should take Riverside Avenue, and, follow-
ing the horse-car tracks, proceed to Westport to the draw-
bridge, which he should cross, and thence, proceeding
straight ahead, run into Southport, passing by Green's
Farm, and always following the main road as laid down
on the map.
BY REFERRING To THIS MAP, moreover, the rider will
see that it is possible to turn to the left about one
and a half miles out of Westport after crossing the draw-
bridge, and rim up a more direct road to Southport. The
road, however, is not as good, and the rider will do well to
follow the bicycle route exactly as marked on the map. At
Soutliport the railroad is again crossed at the station
and the direct road for Fairh'eld taken, which continues
without many turnings to Bridgeport. At Bridgeport
more than half the journey to New Haven is done, a dis-
tance of twenty-two or twenty-three miles, and you can
put np for dinner. After finishing dinner, cross the river
at Bridgeport near the depot, and take the turnpike to
Stratford, thence to Naugatnck to Milford, a distance of
nine miles. Running out of Milford turn to the right and
keep to the shore road always. About two and a half
milt's out of Woodmont you pass into the turnpike road di-
rect to West Haven, and from here the run into New Haven
is easily found and but a short distance, and here you may
put up very comfortably at the New Haven House, and take
the opportunity that afternoon, if yon arrive in town
early enough, or the next morning before you start on the
next stage, to go over the grounds and through the buildings
of Yale University.
This trip from New York to Boston is a capital one for
any one to take during the fall, and we shall therefore
follow it out by the following stages: 1. From New York
to Stamford; 2. From Stamford to New Haven; 3. From
New Haven to New London ; 4. From New London to Sliau-
n nek; 5. From Shaunuck to Providence; 6. From Provi-
dence to Boston.
NOTR.— Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Mnp of
route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
Connecticut, in No. 611. New York lo Stnten Island in No. 812. New
Jersey from Hobokeu to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814.
Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816.
Tarrytown to Ponghkeepsie in No. SIT. Ponghkeepsie to Hudson in
No. 818. Hudson to Albany in No. 819 Tottenville lo Trenton in 8'20.
Trenton to Philadelphia in S'Jl. Philadelphia in No. 822. Philadelphia
— Wissahickon Route in No. 823 Philadelphia to West Chester in No.
824. Philadelphia to Atlantic Citv— First Stat;e in No. 825; Second
Stage in No. 826. Philadelphia to'Viuelaud — First Stage in No. 827;
Second Stage in No. 828.
948
HARPEE'S EOUND TABLE
This Depnrtnient is conducted in the interest <M' GirU 'irid Yoiini*
Women, and the Editor will be plenseil to answer any i|u.' IIMII MM
the subject ao fur as possible. Correspondents ahfmM addre k,M.,i.
T AM going to have a little chat with yon,
L girls, on the obligations cif good hivcdiiiir,
and first I will begin by relating an inci-
dent.
A friend of mine was in a Broadway cable-
car the other day. You girls who live in
New York know just how the big cable-cars
swing along, how fast they go, and how
many people they cau accommodate. Most
of you have taken rides in electric cars
\vhich to-day are to be found all over our
country, scurrying along like mad in some
of the rural places, where, once out of sight
of tlio village, and on a level stretch of road,
they fairly fly. I could tell you of one line
•where the cars rush along over a down grade
at a furious rate of speed, while the smiling
passengers cling to the seats or frantically
hold on to their hats ami parasols, and once
safely out, everybody takes a long breath
of relief. But this is diverging. I was
going to te)l you of my friend's adventure,
in the New York car, a sober-moving thing
in comparison with its country cousin. And
my tale has nothing in the world to do with
the speed or slowness of the car, anyway.
MY friend took his seat, and presently
began to be very uncomfortable. For
everybody seemed amused at him, glances
were levelled in his direction, girls giggled,
elderly ladies drew their faces into a pucker,
and the atmosphere of the place was as
electric as the fluid which sent the car
through space. After a short interval the
puzzled gentleman discovered that it was
not he who was the object of mirth to his
comrades on the road, but a poor, shy,
blushing, tearful, trembling, frightened
girl who was sitting by his side. She, poor
child, was dressed in an outre fashion, which
did not please the set of people in that, con-
veyance, and, evidently, she had met with
an accident, for her clothing was tumbled
and torn, her face was bruised aud cut, and
one hand had been wrenched aud seemed
to be paining her very much. I can imag-
ine nothing more brutally ill-bred and rude-
ly ignorant and unfeeling than the beha vinr
of those silly girls and boys, and still more
silly grown-up people in that car. Can
yon ? They were laughing at a child who
had met with au accident on her wheel !
Now, for au opposite picture. One after-
noon lately, at the terminus of a great rail-
road, in a crowded waiting-room, a foreign
lady with her attendants attracted some
observation, but was neither stared nor
laughed at. Yet her costume was really
extraordinary. Around her neck she wore
a dozen chains of gold, linked together aud
sparkling with rare gems. The chains hung
to her waist, and gleamed like a gorgeous
breast-plate. Pendants of diamonds hung
from her small brown ears. Her small dark
hands were loaded with jewelled ring* : IHT
head was enveloped in many folds of white
silken gauze. Open-worked silk stockings
covered her little fuet, and she wore lnK\i-
heeled slippers with painted toes. Her
travelling-';""'!! was a rich shiimnmiif;
brocade, ill fitting and with a long train.
Her raaids, one fair and white, the other
black as ebony, were loaded with baskets
and bundles, and her servitor held in Irash
two magnificent collies, while a green ami
yellow parrot chattered from his perch on
the man's arm.
All this was a sight to arouse attention
and excite curiosity, but this was a well-
bred throng of people gathered in the wait-
ing-room, anil tin- lady, probably a princess
from some tropic island, was annoyed by no
looks, laughter, or remarks.
ONE of the first rules to be adopted by a
thoroughly polite person is this : Never
show surprise, except of the genuinely gra-
cious kind, the kind that expresses cordial
interest and pleasure. Never laugh at an
awkward predicament, at, for example, a
fall, or a mistake made by another. Be
careful never to pain any one, friend or
stranger, by ridicule, or by thoughtlessly
plain speaking.
ILL-TEMPERED BABIES
are not desirable in any home. Insufficient nourish-
ment produces ill temper. Guard against fretful
children by feeding nutritious and digestible food.
The Gail Burden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk is the
most successful of all infant foods. — [4dy.]
ADVERTISEMENTS.
Oh, Boys and Girls,
AND ALL WHO ARE YOUNG AT HEART
IF NOT IN YEARS,
HERE IS FUN FOR YOU!
WATERLOO is novel and exciting! It
costs $1.25 ($1.50, express prepaid from
publishers). It is one of the famous
Parker Games
Our Illustrated Catalogue, including " Inno-
cents Abroad," "Chivalry," "Authors,"
" Napoleon," " Yankee Doodle," and loo
others, for two-cent stamp. " Brownies " and
" Wonderland," by mail, 35 cents each. Look
I for the imprint
PARKER BROTHERS, Salem, Mass., U.S.A.
949
n^~
\^^^r There
H^^^ classes of 1
nni IIHJI
are two
classes of bicycles —
COLUMBIAS
and others
Columbiasscll for $100 to everyone
alike, and arc the finest bicycles the
world produces. Other bicycles sell
for less, but they are not Coiumbias.
POPE MFG. CO., HARTFORD, CONN.
You See Them
Everywhere
Oh, Boys!
The
"Rugby'Watches
have been designed especially for you.
They have nickel, sterling-silver, or gold-
filled cases, and cost from four to ten
dollars.
The silver have etched designs, and the
gold-filled are handsomely engraved.
Just Right Size for Your Pocket.
Perfect time-keepers, and warranted in
every particular.
Send to us for the " Rugby ' ' Catalogue,
and ask any jeweler to show the watches.
The Waterbury Watch Co.,
Waterbury, Conn.
Stamps, Src.
jnnn Mixed Foreign Postage Stumps, including
lUUU Fiji Island?, Samoa, Hawaii. HMUL' K.HIL', for
34c. in stamps : Kl varu-tir- CT. S. I
25c.; entire unused 5c. aud lOc. <'»]um'ii:iii Enve-
lope*, 'J.'M- tin- |1;i;r Only a lilu:
sued l>y U. S. Government. K. F. ciAMUS, 1;
San Francisco, Cal. Establish' •!, !•.;•_•
100ulldif.Venezuela,Bo
•JlH>alldi!.IIayli,lIa».'r
w't'datfiOperct «'i". l.ii-t I'liKK: c. v.
Stegm«nn,5941CoteBriliante,St.Ix)
Mixed Australian, etc . I'1''.: 1O.S v;iri.--
lies, anil niri'.ill"iiii. I'"- : II! I
OAfricftjlOc.; 15Asia.lOc. F.I'. Vimvnl.rhathain. V Y
WONDER CiniXET FREE. M-!i«U»k
Pultlp, Prul's B..MI*. 1'ockc: OlBm,l«lMI
Wirv Cut
Hmd. T •( •
•
lN-;K[:.-< : i i '
HARPEE'S ROUND TABLE
A Very Generous Offer.
I would be glad to send to members about the
Table specimens of the slate schists and gold-bear-
ing quartz from this section of the Appalachian
Bange, the oldest geological formation of the con-
tinent. My father is engaged in gold-mining in
this country, and I have collected a large number
of beautiful specimens.
We have no express office near, but as much as
four pounds can be sent by mail at one cent an
ounce. All I ask is that whoever sends for quartz
enclose postage-stamps for as many ounces as they
desire. I will label the specimens, pack and mail
them for the sake of giving to my fellow-readers
of the ROUND TABLE an opportunity of possessing
some rare geological specimens of this almost un-
discovered country. MARGARET L. JOHNSON.
MABGANNA, VA.
Junior $50 Word Hunt.
Fifty dollars will be given by HARPER'S ROUND
TABLE to the persons, under eighteen, who make
out of the letters composing " Harper's Round
Table" the greatest number of English words
found in Webster or Worcester. Letters may be
used in any order. No proper names or plurals
allowed. $25 to first, $10 to second, $5 to third,
and $1 each to next ten. Write words one below
another, and number them. Put your own name
and address at top of sheet. Post lists not later
than November 35, 1895, to HARPER'S ROUND TABLE,
New York.
Senior $50 Word Hunt.
Fifty dollars will be given by HARPER'S ROUND
TABLE to the persons (any age) who make out of
the letters composing "Harper's New Monthly"
the greatest number of English words found in
Webster or Worcester. Letters may be used in
any order. No proper names or plurals allowed.
$35 to first, $10 to second, $5 to third, and $1 each
t«> next ten. Write words one below another, and
number them. Put your own name and address at
top of sheet. Post lists not later than November
25, 1895, to HARFEK'S ROUND TABLE, New York.
Lunar Attraction.
Jacques Ozanam, the famous French mathema-
tician, invented this startling illusion, which I will
describe for the benefit of the Round Table.
Make a box three feet square, or of any con-
venient size, and place a board of the same dimen-
sions in the bottom, slightly inclined, with a ser-
pentine groove in it, so that a ball of lead can roll
in it freely. Extend a plain mirror from the ele-
vated end of the board to the opposite upper cor-
ner, with the reflecting side down. Cut a small
hole in the end of the box facing the mirror, and
in such a position that the grooved board itself
cannot be seen. If a ball of lead rolls along the
groove, it will appear to ascend.
VINCENT V. M. BEEDE.
For Lovers of Figures.
Here are two ingenious problems, of French ori-
gin, which mathematically inclined members will
enjoy :
1. Fifteen Christians and fifteen Turks were at
sea in the same vessel when a dreadful storm came
on which obliged them to throw all their merchan-
dise overboard. This, however, not being suffi-
cient to lighten the ship, the captain informed
them there was no possibility of its being saved
unless half the passengers were thrown overboard
also. He therefore arranged the thirty in a row,
and by counting from nine to nine, and throwing
every ninth person into the sea, beginning again
at the first of the row when it had been counted
t» tli-' end, it was found that after fifteen persons
had been thrown overboard, the fifteen Christians
remained. How did the capta.in arrange these
thirty persons so as to save the Christians?
KEY.— The method may be deduced from this
Latin sentence :
Populeam virgam mater regina ferebat. Or from
this French couplet :
Mort, tu ne failliras pas,
En mt Iterant ie trtpas.
2. Three gentlemen and their valets desiring to
cross a river find a boat without a boatman ; the
boat is so small that it can contain no more than
two of them at once. None of the masters can en-
dure the valets of the other two, and if any one of
them were left with any of the other valets, he
would infallibly cane them. How can these six
persons cross the river, two and two, so that none
of the valets shall be left in company with any of
the masters except when his rightful master is
present?
The answers to these problems will be given next
week.
Amateur Journalism.
Many hundreds of young persons having literary
taste write stories and verses for the amateur
journals. A few hundred young persons more
ambitious than the others publish these miniature
newspapers. These publishers, editors, and con-
tributors have long been organized into the Na-
tional Amateur Press Association — the "N.A.P.A."
for short. Every year a national convention is
held, at which a great deal of time is spent discuss-
ing methods and men. and a great deal of enthu-
siasm displayed in behalf of favorite candidates for
president and other offices. Of course there is the
r
WILL HANCOCK, President N.A.P.A.
social side, and scores of delightful acquaintances
are formed that have been known to last a life-
time.
The last national convention was held in Chica-
go, when Mr. Will Hancock, editor of the Pi-airie
Breezes, which " blow monthly," was elected presi-
dent. He lives at Fargo, N. D., and will send a
copy of his paper to any member of our Order who
asks him to do so. He wants to get acquainted
with as many members as possible, in order to in-
vite you to join the ranks of the N.A.P.A. The
other officers are: First Vice-president. Arthur J.
Robinson, Bohemia, Chicago, 111.; Second Vice-presi-
dent, Zelda R. Thurman, Vhicaqoan, Chicago, 111.;
Recording Secretary, Albert E. Barnard, Writer,
Chicago, 111.; Corresponding Secretary, Edward A.
Hering. Er, >•//>; , ,, State, Seattle, Wash.; Treasurer,
George L. Colburn, The Mirror, Pekin, 111.; Official
Editor, Edith Missiter.
Judiciary Committee: Ex - president, John L.
Tomlinson, editor Commentator, Spokane, Wash.,
Chairman : Miss Stella Truman. Opelousas. La., edi-
tor The Smith. ex-President Southern A. P. A. .Secre-
tary ; and Charles R. Burger, Jersey City, N. J., edi-
tor Progress.
Na t ional Laureate Recorder, Mabel C. Lucas, edi-
tor SeareJi-ltght, Spokane, Wash.
Secretary of Credentials, Nathan Hill Ferguson,
Level Plains, North Carolina, author.
950
Chairman Recruiting Committee, Harrie C. Mor-
ris, editor Ocean Wares, San Francisco, Cal.
Librarian, Ella Maud Frye, Halifax, Nova Scotia.
The convention of 1896 is to meet in Washington,
D. C. Dues in the N.A.P.A. are small. Address
Recruiting Committee or Mr. Hancock. There is
also a New England Press Association, of which
Miss Susan D. llobbins, Abiugton, Mass., is presi-
dent. She will give information concerning it to
all who ask.
Celebrating the "Fourth " Abroad.
The other day we went in the cars to a little town
on the Elbe's bank, and there took a steamboat
and went up the river. The view was lovely, and
looked like a mixture of the Rhine and the pali-
sades on the Hudson, with high cliffs on each side
—some green with trees, and others with the bare
gray rocks worn by the wind and rain into a thou-
sand queer shapes. In some places there were
quarries for the soft buff sandstone of which
these cliffs are composed, lending another color
(yellow) to the cliffs of gray and green. You can
well imagine how lovely it was.
As we neared the town the country changed, and
now it resembled the Thames, with villas here and
there among the trees. The King of Saxony has
his summer palace here, with pleasure - boats
moored to the wharf. We reached the brightly
lighted city on our return just at twilight, wishing
our journey was not over so soon.
We went to the Belvedere on the Fourth of July.
It is a large garden by the river. It is crowded
every night, a good half of the people being English
and Americans. Of course the "Fourth" was a
great American night, the programme being print-
ed in English. The hand played everything it knew
of American music, with some of the English com-
posers for the English part of the audience. You
should have heard the clapping for " Hail Colum-
bia." The musicians played the beautiful " Largo "
too, and the husli that fell over every one was nice
to see, even a lot of students who sat at the next
table stopped talking and laughing.
Last of all came a great mixture of all the Ameri-
can tunes. Everybody, or at least a great number,
sang; and you can well imagine the noise when
"Yankee Doodle " came. "Marching through Geor-
gia " was sung loudly, every one clapping in time.
By everybody I mean the Americans. " Old Black
Joe" was most highly appreciated, and when it
came to " Way Down upon the Suwanee River,"
the voices, it seemed to me, beat any opera chorus
in the world. A great many voices were " quav-
ery" at "Home, Sweet Home," and my sister and
I indulged in rather a " watery " smile.
I never knew the pathos of that song till I was
in a German garden, with some of my countrymen
around me, three thousand miles from "home." I
could just hear the waves beating on the beach at
dearold East Hampton, wilh the moonlight shining
over all; the light in the dear little "chalet," and
our footsteps sounding on the board walk, as we
came in, in time for dinner, with the bright table
and father just in from town. And I could see the
funny old house with the willows in front, and the
quiet old graveyard bright in the still white light.
Across the way Daisy's house with the yellow lamp-
light shining through, and Daisy's black shadow
passingacross the light through the window. John
Howard Payne must have seen the same " Home,
Sweet Home *' as I did that minute.
DBBSDKN, GIEMANV. EDITH S. MILLS.
A South Carolina Plantation.
We live on a plantation. The clearing is about
400 acres in extent. On the east is a salt-water
river, a'nd on the north, south, and west is the for-
est. On the other side of the river is a marsh. On
this marsh there grows a kind of grass. In the
winter the marsh dries and breaks off, and in
spring, when we have high tides, the grass floats
upon the beach, and people haul it away to put in
the stables for the horses and cows. There are
many large live-oaks scattered over the clearing,
with lots of moss hanging from them. The moss
is lovely. Along the river-shore on our side are
palmettos, oak-trees, and hushes.
BLDFPTOK, S. C. MlLLIB MlTTKl.I.. R T. L
HARPER'S BOUND TABLE
This Deptirtmi-nl n conducted in the Interest of stamp nn<l oiin
collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on
these subjects so far as possible. Correspondents should address E.iitur
Stamp Department.
COREAN money is made of copper or
brass, each piece about as large as our
old copper cents, with a square hole in the
centre. It takes six hundred of these coins
to equal in value
one of our silver
dollars. Ten dol-
lars -would be a
good load for a
man to carry
about, and fifty
dollars would be
a good load for a
horse.
Where does the
capitalist keep his
money? We have
to build immense
vaults in Wash-
ington to store
away onr silver
bullion and silver
dollars that no
one cares to carry
about as we prefer
good gold or pa-
per money. There
are no banks or
safe-deposit companies with fire-proof vaults
in Corea, so the Corean capitalist is forced
to devise a met hod, and has hit upon a very
novel one. He lends out the money early
in the spring at 50 per cent, or 60 per cent.
per year, all loans to be repaid in full with
interest late in the autumn. The money,
therefore, comes back about the beginniiij;
of winter. The Corean digs a big hole in
his yard the first freezing night and spreads
out a layer of cash on the bottom. On top
of this be throws some earth a,nd wets it
thoroughly. As soon as this is frozen hard,
he spreads out another layer of cash and
covers it with wet earth ; this freezes in turn
and another layer of cash is put away.
When he gets through the whole is wet
again and it naturally freezes solid. Thus
each Corean capitalist has his own security
vault, and the winter is such that there is
no danger of any one trying to dig up the
money until warm weather in the spring.
W. J. MoGAijvEY. — Continental and Confederate
bills have little value, owing to the enormous quantity
Btill in existence. A collection of these would be of
at least as much interest as a collection of stamps,
and the expense would not be very great.
H. H. LurriER.— The Colombian half-dollar is in reg-
ular circulation at face value. There is little prospect
of its increasing in value.
V. S. B.— The dealers sell the 1830 half -dollar fur
75c.
R. STAUKK —Ten-cent stamp ajbntns are not recom-
mended lo even a beginner. A very good album can
be bought for $1.
S. A. DYAR.— The coin described is Spnnisli.aml is
worth about 12c., face value. De-ilera quote one-dollar
gold pieces at $1 60, quarter eagles at $3, 182S-S2 half-
cent 15c. ; 1858 copper cents 5c.
PHILATUS.
THE LUXURY OF
SECURITY IS
FOUND IN THE
DELONG PAT-
ENT HOOK
SEE THAT
RICHARDSON S-DE LONG
BROS. PHILADELPHIA
One can be genteel and neat,
and still indulge a love of out-door
sports.
A fall with nothing worse than
mud stains is not serious; Ivory
Soap will remove troublesome spots
and restore the original freshness
to a good piece of cloth.
Copyright 1695, The Procter A Gamble Co.
BALTIMOREAN PRINTING-PRESS
has earned more money for hoys
than all other presses in the mar-
ket, lioyy, don't idle fiway your
time when you can buy a self-
iukln.tr print ing-press, type, and
complete outfit for $5.00. Write
for particulars, there is money
in it for you.
THE J.'F. W. DORMAX CO.,
Baltimore, M.I., I . v V.
nCACNESS & HEAD NOISES CURED
u c A r tesm^&ss-ssifs.
vices cnnihlns.l. Whispers flLHn I Help ears an Classes
do eyes. F. HUt-ox, 858 B'dway.N.Y. Boot of proofs FREE
Harper's Catalogue,
Thoroughly revised, classified, and in-
dexed, will be sent by mail to any ad-
dress on receipt of ten cents.
SOME POPULAR BOOKS
AFLOAT WITH THE FLAG.
By W. J. HENDERSON, Author of " Sea Yarns for Boys," etc. Illus-
trated. Post Svo, Cloth, Ornamental, $i 25.
THE BOY TRAVELLERS IN THE LEVANT.
Adventures of Two Youths in a Journey through Morocco, Algeria,
Tunis, Greece, and Turkey, with Visits to the Islands of Rhodes and
Cyprus, and the Site of Ancient Troy. ByTii<>MA> W. KNOX.
Profusely Illustrated. Square Svo, Cloth, Ornamental, $3 °°.
TWILIGHT LAND,
Written and Illustrated by HOWARD PVLE, Author of "The \Yuii-
der Clock," "Pepper and Salt," "Men of Iron," etc. 8vo. Half
Leather, Ornamental, $2 50.
THE STORY OF BABETTE,
A Little Creole Girl. By RUTH MrExERY STUART. Author <.f
"Carlotta's Intended," "A Golden \Yc<klini;." etc. Illustrated.
Post Svo, Cloth, Ornamental, §i 50.
THE FUR = SEAL'S TOOTH.
A Story of Alaskan Adventure. By KlKK MUNROE. [llusti
Post Svo, Cloth, Ornamental, si 25.
HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York
951
ViKW OF A SEEMINGLY F.STINCT VOLCANO.
STARTLING CHANGES IN 6AME CAUSED HY A SUDDEN ERUPTION.
'A SEEMINGLY EXTINCT VOLCANO."
TOMMY'S SUGGESTION.
MAMMA. "You should always take the smaller piece of
anything offered. You just took the larger piece of cake,
and left the smaller piece for your elder hrother."
TOMMY. " But, mamma, as Willie is my elder, I think the
plate should have beeu passed to him first."
HARD TO TELL
"WHAT on earth is that baby crying for?" asked the
baby's father.
" He says he wants a wolly-bully-um," said mamma.
" Well, for goodness' sake give it to him."
" I will, if you'll tell me what it is," said mamma.
HE WAS WONDERING.
"MAMMA," said little Willie the other day, " don't some
people think that when folks die they turn into animals
and birds ?"
"I believe so, Willie," replied his mother ; "but why do
yon ask that question ?"
" Only." said Willie, " because I was wondering if all the
uegroes turn into chicken-hawks."
CHOP LOGIC.
TILLIE. " A man who keeps a bakery is a baker, isn't he f"
HILLY. " Of course. And a mau who keeps cellery is a.
seller, but a man who keeps a buttery isn't a butter, is he f
VERY LIKELY.
"I CAN'T understand why it is that -the baby keeps put-
ting his hands in his mouth all the time," said Bob.
" I guess lie's trying to hold his tongue," suggested
Mabel.
A SPAT AT THE MUSEUM.
"You are a fraud," cried the Fat Man to the Living
Skeleton. " I can see through you."
" Of course you can," retorted the Living Skeleton.
"That merely proves what a living skeleton I am."
TOMMY'S NOSE.
TOMMY. "Papa, I wish you would buy me a set of box-
ing-gloves."
PAPA. " I'll do no such thing. Do you want to get your
nose broken ?"
TOMMY. " No; I only want to learnhow to keep it from
getting broken."
*
DREAMS.
MABEL. " Don't dreams always go by contraries ?"
MAMMA. " I have heard so."
MABEL. " Well, last night I dream-
ed that I asked you for a piece of
— cake, and you wouldn't give it to
me."
THE VENDER'S HORSE.
WHEN little Rupert saw a ven-
der's horse whose ribs were plainly
visible the other day, he said to his
nurse :
"Oh, Ellen, just look at the horse
with cordnrov skin!"
HIS OBJECTION.
" I SIMPLY wish we'd never had
any American Revolution," sighed
Tommy, after school the other day.
" It's made my life miserable."
"How so?" asked his uncle.
" So many more history dates to
remember," said Tom.
r
HE KNEW.
TEACHER. ''Now WHICH OF YOTT BOYS CAN TELL ME WUAT SEA WATER CONTAINS
BE8IDK8 THE SODIUM nni.ORIPK .TITST MENTIONED?"
TOMMY TATTERS. "MoGiNTY!"
952
LIKE THE REST.
" An, Jack, I hear you go to kinder-
garten."
"Yes."
" What do you do there?"
"Oh — we make things."
" Indeed ? And what do you mako
chiefly?"
" Noise," said Jack.
HARPER'S
ROUND TABLE
, 1895, by HARPKH & BHOTHKBS. All Rights Reserved.
eUBUMlKD WKKKLY.
VOL- XVI.— NO. 830.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 2-4, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YEATI.
AN OWN RELATION.
BY SOPHIE SWETT.
THE couutry-week girl came up the lane with her head
in the air, so Gideon, who was watching her from the
crotch in the old sweet-apple tree, afterwards remarked to
little Adoiiiram.
After some hesitation Gideon dropped down at her feet.
Aunt Esther had especially enjoined it upon him to be
kind to the country-week girl. Aunt Esther mould remem-
ber that lie used to get under the bed when a. girl came to
see Phemie ; but that was wheii he was small.
"Is this Sweet Apple Hill? Be you Trneworthys?" de-
manded the girl, looking critically At Gideon.
" Yes, "in," said Gideon, and then reddened and scorned
himself because he had been overpolite. But the girl was
tall for fourteen — " Grazelia Hickins, aged fourteen," the
letter from the Country-week Committee had rrad — and
she wore a, wide sash and a scarlet feather in her hat and
carried a pink parasol.
Phemie, who came around the corner of the house just
then, saw at a glance that the tiuery was shabby, but Gid-
eon thought that Grazella Hickins was very stylish.
Grazella dropped her bundle upon the grass opposite the
front gate aud seated herself upou it, meditatively. She did
not arise from it as Phemie opened the gate, but she sur-
veyed her with an air of friendly criticism ; 1'heinie \\ as
fourteen too.
" I like your looks real well," she remarked at length,
with a trine of condescension. Her glance sought Gideon
and little Adoiiiram, who peeped from behind the friendly
shelter of the big black-currant bush. "I think boys are
kind of — middling," she added. It was evident that a
more, severe adjective than this had been withheld only
from motives of politeness. "l'\e LV'I an own relation,
thiiiigh, that's an awful m<-e boy — awful smai t too; \ mi
never know what he's going to do next."
Little Adoiiiram pricked up his ears; Aunt Ksllicrhad
been known to say that of him without meaning to be com-
plimentary. City standards cif behavior seemed to He
cheerfully ditlerent from those of l',a\H. nv Corner.
" I wouldn't have said a won! if Jicksy cmilil have come
too," continued (na/ella, and her snapping Idark
slowly tilled with tears. " A cousin is a real comfort "
"Do you mean I hat \ on didn't waul to com.
Phemie, ill a disappointed tone.
"I'm in Ihe newspaper business: 'twas kind of risl
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
leave ii : there's so many iiushiu' iu. But they don't want
me to Lome ; mother she's married again, and lie don't like
me. Jicksy is all I've got that's really my own. ]fhe
could have come too —
She swallowed a lump in her throat with determination,
and raised her eyes to the old sweet apple-tree whose fruit
was yellowing in the August sunshine.
••Are them apples?" she asked. "They ain't near so
shiny and handsome as Judy Magrath keeps on her stand :
.ln.ly shines 'em with her apron. I never was in the
country before, and I don't know as I'm going to liUe it.
But I'm run down, they say, and I've got a holler cough .
so I had to come."
Phemie had almost begun to wish that they had not
taken a country- week girl ; but now she noticed, sudden-
ly, tin1 meagreiiess of the tall form, and the deep hollows
under tlie snapping black eyes, and repented. It was
proverbial that people grew plump and strong on Sweet
Apple Hill.
Aunt Esther came out, and the girl's manner softened
under the influence of her tactful kindness. She seemed
to like Grandpa Trneworthy too ; she said she had a
grandpa once, and 'twas the must she ever did have that
was like other folks.
But, after all, it was she and Gideon who seemed most
congenial. Gideon explained, with a gravely approving
wag of the head, that she was " business." Gideon flat-
tered himself that he had abilities in that line, and lie was
cultivating them diligently. He had not expected to get
any hints from a girl ; but the country-week girl was as-
sistant at a newspaper stand, and she also " tended " for
Judy Magrath when Judy, as she explained with sad and
severe head-shakings, Tvas obliged to go to a funeral; but
it was Judy's only infirmity, she added, very charita-
bly.
Of course girls did not generally have such business op-
portunitics as these, and it was Gideon's opinion that she
was ''considerable of a girl, anyhow." It must be con-
fessed that Aunt Esther was a little anxious, and the min-
ister expressed a doubtful hope that she would not prove
"a corrupting influence." Gideon told Grazella all his
business plans, which Phemie never cared to listen to It
was after tea one evening, and he and Grazella were sitting
on the orchard wall, while Phemie and little Adoniraiii
shook the old damson-plum-tree. He told her of the con-
tract he hud made with the owners of the canning factory
at Bayberry Port, to supply them with berries for the
w hole season, and, what he wouldn't tell any fellow, of the
groat find he had made — a blackberry thicket over on the
other side of Doughnut Hill, almost an acre, and the ber-
ries just beginning to ripen! He was going to sell the
plums oil' his trees, too, and, later on. his crab-apples, he'd
got a business opening, she'd better believe ;
( Jra/ella's eyes snapped, and her thin, sallow cheeks red-
dened suddenly. "You'd ought to have a partner !'' she
cried.
Gideon shook his head doubtfully. "It's awful risky
takin' partners," he said. '• If they ain't smart, you have
to do all the work; ifthev are, they are apt to cheat
you."
"Jicksy!" suggested Grazella, wistfully, breathlessly
" 1 — I've got a job for him up here — a little one ; I didn't
tell, because I was afraid your aunt wouldn't ask me to
stay another week if she knew; she's seairl of me, and I
expect she'd be scairter of Jicksy." (The country-week
girl's eyes were sharp.) " Mr. Suell, across the field, said
he'd give him Ins board to help him take care of his cattle,
and 1 heard they were wanting a boy to blow the organ
iu chureh. It wouldn't suit Jicksy to throw away his
talents workiu' for his board ; but he's crazy for the coun-
try, and the doctor said 'twould be the niakin' of him, ac-
i mini of his heart beatin' too fast, and whatever he has to
eat he always thinks it enough to go 'round among-.! a
dozen that's poorer than him. He could blo\v the organ,
for when lie belonged to the show he blew up the fat man
— all the iugy-rubber tbciu's that made him fat, yon know,
everj day: and once he worked for a balloon-man. But
if you'd take him for a partner in your business — '
Grazella's eyes were so anxious that Gideon found it
hard to shake his head with the proper decision, although
he felt strongly doubtful whether Jicksy were " the man
for his money ."
•• lie's coming up to Mr. Suell's, anyway," said Grazella,
made hopeful by Gideon's evident weakness. "And when
you see Low smart he is, you'll say you wouldn't have no-
body else for a partner! He ain't jest common folks, like
you and me, anyhow, Jicksy ain't ; his adopted father was
a lion-tamer iu a circus, awful famous and talented, and
Jicksy himself has rode elephants and camels, and travelled
'round in the boa-constructor's cage, and his own uncle is
the wild man of the South Seas!"
Gideon's prudent mind still hesitated; he doubted
whether these wonderful opportunities especially fitted a
boy for the berry business.
Nevertheless, when Jicksy arrived, he succeeded in con-
vincing Gideon of his desirability as a partner, and this in
spite of the fact that his appearance was not pleasing. His
face was so thin and wizened that it made him look like a
little old man, and his black hair standing upright above
the snapping black eyes, that were remarkably like Gra-
zella's, gave him a fierce and combative aspect. Farmer
Snell professed himself satisfied; he said he was up an'
comiu' if he wa'u't very likely-lookin'. And he secured
the position of organ-blower at the village church, an easy
matter, because it was not coveted by the Bayberry boys,
owing to the fact that the wind iu the ancient instrument
would occasionally give out with an appalling screech, and
the luckless aud innocent blower was always soundly
cuffed therefor by the sexton, who held that this summary
measure was necessary to preserve the public respect for
the organ — which the parish hoped to sell to a struggling
young church at the Port as soon as it could afford a new
one.
And Aunt Esther did invite Grazella to stay another
week. The neighbors thought the reason that she gave a
very queer one — because she was kept awake nights by tlie
hard little cough in the room next hers.
Gideon had been influenced by Jicksy's ready tougue.
He confided to Phemie that there ought to be one good
talker in a business firm, and also by the fact that he didn't
expect an equal share of the profits, but realized the value
of Gideon's capital and experience. (Gideon had seven
dollars and fifty-nine cents, which he kept tucked away
under the ticking of his bed aud counted over every
night.)
Jicksy wasn't extravagant either, as Gideon had feared
that he would be. He discovered at once that they were
paying Steve Peunyphair, the stage-driver, too much for
carrying the berries to the Port. Freedom Towle, the milk-
man, would carry them among his cans for half as much.
Gideon had thought of asking Towle, but the fact was
Bobby Towle often went on the route instead of his father,
and Bobby w as known to be greedy. Jicksy managed that
difficulty by fastening some canvas (old hay-caps) securely
over the tops of the baskets. Gideon had thought of the
plan ; he had lain awake half of two nights reckoning how
large a hole the price of canvas enough would make in
that seven dollars and fifty-nine cents; he hadn't thought
of those old hay-caps that Jicksy had found in the barn
chamber
Jicksy was truly honest, aud before the end of the sec-
ond week of the partnership he began to wonder whether
an ability to think of things ought not to offset experience ;
and he had brought home from the Port library a very
large book on the relations of capital aud labor. But be-
fore he had settled these knotty problems of the partner-
ship in his mind something happened that caused a great
excitement at Bayberry Corner, aud made many people say
they were glad they had known better than to take coun-
try-week children, for if the girl had not been sent to Sweet
Apple Hill the boy would not have come. Jicksy had gone
to the canning factory at the Port to collect a bill, and he
bad not returned. The amount of the bill was twenty-
four dollars aud sixty-four cents; Gideon had "done" the
addition seven times over, and then had Phemie do it ;
strangely enough, thought Gideon, Phemie had " a head for
904
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
figures." He had run a pitchfork iuto his foot, so he could
not go and collect the money himself, aud although he had a
prudent, mind, he had not thought of distrusting his part-
ner. Hut he had heard from the factory that Jicksy had
collected the money — aud he had disappeared.
As soon as the fact liecnme known there was another
development; the minister's watch was also missing. Jick-
sy had Mown the orgau for three services with fidelity and
sun-ess; only once had that fatal scream interrupted the
devotions of the congregation, and then it was in a mild
and mitigated form. But after the evening service the
minister had thrust his watch, which he kept on the desk
while he preached, iuto the absurd little pocket with a
tight little elastic aud a blue ribbon bow which his wife
hail made in the embroidered cover of his sermon-case.
He explained that he put it there because he knew that
his wile liked to have him (he was young and newly mar-
ried), and therefore he was sure that his memory was not
at fault. He had carelessly left the serruou-case on the
desk, where the sexton had found it — without the watch.
The boy who blew the organ was the only one who had an
opportunity to take it. It was the day after this loss that
Jicksy took "French leave"; he had "killed two birds with
one stone," Bay berry people said.
(irazclla's eyes snapped continually; grandpa said she
was as hoppiu' as a parched pea. She said folks had ought
to be ashamed of themselves that could b'lieve such things
of Jicksy. The probabilities of the case made no impres-
sion whatever on Grazella's mind.
The minister's wife, who had taken a fancy to the girl,
ottered her consolation at the sewing circle, which met at
the Trueworthys' two days after Jicksy's departure.
"You mustn't think we hold yon responsible for what
he has done," she said, gently. "He is only your cou-
sin."
Grazella stood up, her little bony cheeks aflame. " He
ain't neither only my cousin. I just let on, because he'd
got up iu the world, and I didn't want folks heaviu' it at
him that he had a sister that tended for Judy Magrath.
He's my own brother as ever was in the world, and when
folks are thinkin' he's a thiij', I just want 'em to know that
lie's my brother^ Jicksy is sniarter'n other folks, aud you
never know what he'll do next; but I told Gideon that
he'd find him an awful square partner, aud I stick to it —
now."
There were melancholy head -shakings in the sewing
circle; in fact, the whole circle shook its head as one wo-
man ; but it was whispered that the girl was probably hon-
est : that the little scamp had deceived her, as he deceived
others.
But at that very time an exciting rumor was circulating
about Bayberry Corner. Iky Snell shouted it at the open
window of the room where the sewing circle sat at supper.
A boy had been seen on the turnpike-road coming tow-
ards Sweet Apple Hill, leading a giraffe.
" Looks as if he had a circus procession all to himself,"
declared Iky, enviously ; and if several persons who had
seen him were not very greatly mistaken, the boy was
Jicksy
•' If some boys should come home leadin' a giraffe, why, I
might be kind of surprised," remarked grandpa; "but it
does seem jest like Jicksy."
Grazella, who had been trying to swallow blackberry tart
mingled with tears, tried very hard to be calm, though her
thin little face paled aud flushed. " You never know what
Jicksy will do next," she said, proudly.
Sweet Apple Hill turned out; so did half Bayberry Cor-
ner; every one ran towards the turnpike-road; even the
sewing -circle supper- table was deserted in undignified
haste.
It «•«» Jicksy, footsore and begrimed, aud accommodating
his gait to the tread of a, creature whose body seemed to
be set upon stilts, and whose neck might, as I'liemie de-
clared, lie tied iuto a double bow-knot. The animal was
lame, and its head wagged iu a curious fashion.
i (ideon, seeing his partner afar oft', felt a thrill of delight
in his uonesty, which seemed probable since he was return-
in.., but if was followed by a painful doubt couceruiug his
" business bump." Jieksy had wished to liny Aaron (Jreen's
old horse, which Aaron \\uuld sell for fuenty dollars. It
was a good horse for the money, and it i-ould easilv In- Kept
on their little farm ; aud the old blue carl in the barn could
be repaired at very small expense, and perhaps what Jiek-
sy said was true that yon had lo have some style lo :L
business to ad vertise it. Nevertheless, < 'idcon bad not cou
sented to buy Aaron Grec-n's horse; he had Cell that the
twenty-four dollars and sixty-four cents must go under his
bed-ticking with the seven dollars and fifty-nine cents.
where he could count it every night. lie Celt, a wild fear
that Jicksy had bought the giratle to draw the blue cart,
following his theory that there. \\ as not hing like attracting
attention to your business.
"I didn't run away!" Jieksy was saying angrily, as
Gideon pressed through the crowd, "(iid understood that
it \N as business that kept me, didn't yon (Jid f" But Gideon
looked away; he couldn't say that lie had understood, and
he was certain that he didn't understand now about that
giraffe.
"I heard that McColloh's show was stranded down to
\\Ystport; that's the show I b'louged to once; couldn't
pay their bills, aud the sheriff was after 'em; I thought
maybe I could get a horse, cheap." There was sileuce as
the crowd listened to Jicksy's explanation ; only now and
then a shrill question interrupted him. "Foot it? Of
course I did." (It was twenty miles to Westport.) "I
wasn't goiu' to fool away the linn's money. Comiu' back
I had the giraffe ; they're slow travellers, and Squashy is
lame. There wasn't any horse that I could buy — trained
horses and Shetland-ponies, aud they were selling high.
Squashy is lame aud old, and sometimes he gets ngly."
(The crowd withdrew from Squashy's viciuity.) "Me aud
Nick Pridgett could always manage him. Nick is partner
in a show now, and it's down to Hebron. I saw that in
the paper. When Jim McColloh says to me, ' There's old
Squashy; gets on to his tears worse than ever; you can have
him for twenty dollars if you want him.' A giraffe for
twenty dollars! If you knew the show business as well as
I do you'd know that was a big bargain." Jicksy addressed
this remark to Gideou, but his partner was unresponsive ;
he saw, iu faucy, the giraffe harnessed to the old blue cart,
the equipage was attended by crowds; but the berry busi-
ness was not a circus. " Quicker 'n scat I give him the
inonej'," pursued Jicksy, and Gideon groaned. "Then I
telegraphed to Nick Pridgett, ' Will yon pay fifty dollars
for Squashy?' 'Bring him along and the money is yours.'
telegraphs Nick. So I'm briugiu' him along." The crow
cheered; Gideon's face brightened; this was business.
" Aud I've got to bring him along pretty lively," continued
Jicksy, "for there isn't a building in town big enough to
hold him, unless it's the church."
That made every one think of the watch ; but, queerly
enough, just at that moment the minister was seen rnuuiug
iu a very undignified manner up the lane. In dressing to
officiate at a wedding at the Port he had discovered his
watch, chain, aud all, in one of his coat-tail pockets. He
said that, knowing it was his duty to put it in some un-
usual place, aud being absent-minded, he had stowed it
away there.
Grazella hushed every one's exclamations before they
reached Jicksy's ears. She said her cousin was proud, and
she didn't want him to know that he had been suspected
of stealing. Her cousin! The sewing-circle ladies looked
at each other; but she held her head in the air, and looked
so steru that no one .land, or had the heart to contra-
dict her. Jicksy was up in the world again, and she was
not going to have him dragged down b\ a sister who bad
tended for Judy Magraih! When Jicksy relumed tn.ii,
Westport, bringing a dollar's worth of bine paint lo paint
the old cart, the partnership was set lied upon a linn basis.
Jicksy said Bayberry Corner was a place that suited I
"down in the ground," aud the minister's wife had taken
Grazella to live v> it h her. That made him waul to
I bey hadn't any real ow n folks, but just each other. I •
said that seeing Jieksy had put some capital into thi
ness, as \nii mighi nay, henceforth thej would share and
share alike.
955
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
FOUE YOUNG RUSSIAN HEROES.
BY V. GRIBAYEDOFF.
HE death last .spring, at Astrakhan, in
southeastern Russia, of Captain Nich-
olas Novikoff, :i retired naval officer,
recalls some of the principal events of
the Crimean war. Novikoff was the
last survivor of a famous quartet
of heroes. They were cabin-boys cm
board ships of the Russian Black
Sea fleet at the outbreak of the war against Turkey, in
1853, and their ages ranged at the time from twelve to
fourteen years. The other three were Vasili Rinitzik.
Ivan Robert, and Sergins Farasionk.
The day after the Russian defeat at the Alma, on Sep-
tember 20. 1854, Menschikoff, Commander-in-chief, sent per-
emptory orders to Admiral Kornilotf in Sebastopol, the
great Crimean port of war, to sink in the passage, at the
entry of the "Roads," his live oldest line -of- battle ships
and two frigates, in order to prevent the Anglo -French
fleet from forcing an entrance. These orders were carried
out on the night of September 22d. The doomed vessels,
pierced with holes, sank in the roadstead in the. presence
of their crews, drawn up in parade formation alongshore.
Scarcely a dry eye watched the mournful event. The
sailors and marines who had humbled the Turk but a few
mouths before in the harbor of Sinope now bent their
energies to the defense of Russia's great stronghold. The
men who had navigated and fought the Czar's proudest
men-of-war were assigned to the duty of throwing up iu-
trenchments, constructing subterranean mines, handling
heavy siege ordnance, and of performing numerous other
tasks incident to warfare ashore.
Among those brave defenders of the great fortress, our
four young heroes soon distinguished themselves by their
splendid courage and devotion. Their share in the defense
of Sebastopol was a modest one, but it consisted, neverthe-
less, of eleven mouths' arduous service in the casemates of
the MalakhotT and the Redan, during which time two of
their number were seriously disabled. Novikoff made the
finest record of all by creeping, unperceived during a fog,
close to the advance ranks of the British, opposite the
Redan fort, late in June of 1855, and discovering the pickets
THE FOUR CABIN BUYS.
asleep. He promptly returned with the information, and
this enabled the besieged to make a successful sally, re-
Milting in the capture of forty Englishmen.
Farasionk and Rinitzik were engaged in the Malakhoff
Jcri in i he transport of munitions, but during the great
bombardment in June 18th they were suddenly called to
help man a fifty-pound gun, and performed this duty with
such pluck and fortitude that Admiral Nakhimoff person-
ally complimented them, and promised them the Cross of
Merit. The final assault on the fortress, which culminated
in its capture, saw the boys on the ramparts one night,
almost in the front ranks of the defenders. Two of them,
Robert and Farasiouk, had just recovered from wounds re-
ceived three weeks earlier. They had been sent to the
Redan fort to aid in the establishment of a lazeretto, and,
when the English rather unexpectedly appeared on the
parapets in great force, every available man among the de-
fenders, including even the hospital assistants, rushed to
the front. The overwhelming defeat of Colonel Wynd-
ham's columns was due to the desperate bravery of the
Redan's defenders, who, though greatly outnumbered,
fought like demons. The four cabin-boys were in the thick
of the fight, Novikoff especially distinguishing himself by
deftly tripping up an English lieutenant, and forcing him
at the pistol's po^int to surrender his sword.
At the conclusion of peace, among the first to benefit
from the imperial good-will and gratitude were the four
sailor lads. The Emperor pinned a gold medal on each
boy's breast, and took them under his special protection.
Although they were of humble birth, he placed them in the
School of Naval Cadets at St. Petersburg, and launched
them on an honorable career in the service of their coun-
try. Three of them lived to attain the rank of Captain in
the Russian navy. The fourth, Farasiouk, was drowned
shortly after his promotion to lieutenant in the very harbor
of Sebastopol, which he had helped so bravely to defend.
GREAT MEN'S SONS.
BY ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS.
THE SON OF CROMWELL.
IN tue famous old English village of St. Ives — famous be-
cause of a certain nursery rhyme concerning a man
who, travelling toward the town, met seven wives with
their cats and kits — there once lived a farmer who, later
in his life, became more famous than St. Ives itself.
Out West they would have called him a ranchman. He
was really a cattle farmer, with a big grazing farm that
lay along the river Ouse, in what is termed "the feu coun-
try " of England. Here, where the Ouse slipped thickly
and lazily through those low, green, boggy, marshy fields
called the feus, this farmer raised his beef, his pork, and
his mutton; and here lived his son Richard, as lazy and
sluggish of nature as the river along whose banks he
lounged or fished or wandered as a boy, until it was time
to send him off to Felsted School, in Essex, where his
brothers, before and after him, were placed for such edu-
cation as those days provided.
A slow, good - Matured, easy -going fellow was this boy
Dick — "lazy Dick," his father often called him. He was
neither as bright in mind or manner as his younger brother
Harry, nor as promising a lad as his elder brother Robert.
Robin was what this elder brother was called; he was the
delight and hope of his fond father — then called by his
neighbors " the Lord of the Fens," because of the stand he
took against the King's threatened "improvement" of the
marshy fen-lands. To-day the world honors and revers
that sturdy farmer of the fens as Britain's mightiest man —
Oliver Cromwell, Lord Protector of the Commonwealth of
England.
We catch afe\v glimpses — not many, unfortunately — of
the quiet home at St. Ives, in which the Cromwell boys and
girls lived. It was a happy and united home, blessed with
a mother whom her children revered, and having as its
bend a father they honored and never dared to disobey.
But fathers in those days — two hundred and fifty years
and more ago — though stern iu their ways with children,
956
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
were as fond and as loving as are the fathers of to-day
and Cromwell the farmer, Cromwell the General, Cromwell
the Lord Protector, loved Ms children dearly, and labored
for their good alike in the great palace at Whitehall as in
the low, timber-framed house upon the one street of St.
Ives, where the willows shivered in the wind, and the cattle
grazed and fattened upon the wide marshy meadows that
lined the sluggish 0-use.
How little Dick Cromwell fared as a boy at St. Ives we
have little means of knowing. When he was ten years
old — in the year 1636— the Cromwells moved into a bigger
house at Ely, fifteen miles away. It was called Ely from
the eels that wriggled about in the muddy Ouse, and is
things that have come down to us, we know how his busy
father, who was as ambitions for his hoys as all fathers are,
had but little patience with lazybones :iny\\ here, and re-
proved boy Dick for his carelessness as lie found fault with
young Mr. Dick, in later years, for his shiftless ways.
Troublesome times came to England. The people rose
in defence of their rights. The King tell. The throne- and
crown were abolished. The Parliament bent before the
iron will of the people's champion, and from the Captain
of a troop and the General of an army the determined
farmer of the fens took the helm and steered his country
through reefs and breakers, until, under the leadership of
Oliver Cromwell, the commonwealth of England became
RICHARD PREFERRED HUNTING TO POLITICS.
that famous cathedral town of the feus where King Canute,
who tried to order back the tide, once bade his rowers stop
his boat that he luight hear the monks of the cathedral
slug.
Probably boy Dick thought more of bobbing for eels in
the Ouse than of King Canute and the monks; for there
were no monks singing in England when Richard Cromwell
was a boy. There was soon to be no King in England,
either, and in that great uprising against principalities
and powers Dick Cromwell's lather was to bear an impor-
tant part.
We would like to know more of Richard Cromwell's boy-
hood. We would like to know how he lived and what he
did as a small boy on that cattle turm among the feus at
St. Ives, and at the more spacious homestead in the shadow
of the great gray towers of Ely Cathedral. We would like
to know whether he liked sport, as most boys do, or whether
he was too lazy to exert himself at play. We would like
to know how he studied, and what he learned at the Free
Grammar School at Felsted, where, one after the other,
four of the Cromwell boys were sent; whether he loved
football as much as his father did, and became a champion
full-back as his father did when he was a boy.
I am afraid Richard Cromwell was just as careless at his
books as at the hirer duties that came to him ; for, from
the first power in Europe, unconquerable on the land, in-
vincible on the sea.
Step by step Cromwell rose to power. Against his own
desire he rose, the one strong man in England. And, as he
advanced, his family rose with him into notice and position.
One by one the older boys died. Robert, a promising lad of
seventeen, died at Felsted School; Oliver, the second son.
named for his father and a Captain in the cavalry, died just
before the great victory of Marstou Moor, and Richard
Cromwell thus became the eldest living son, heir to the
estates, successor in po\\ er. but never heir to 1 he fame I hat
his mighty father attained.
For there was in "lazy Dick" nothing of his father's
masterful manner or genius in leadership, nothing of the,
display and vast hospitality that made famous his ancestor,
known us "the Golden Knight of lliiicliinUrook," nothing
of the dash and daring that marked his more remote an-
cestor, " Diamond Dick," who unhorsed all his rivals at a
tournament, and so defended the kind's colors that the
pleased monarch, bluff King Henry the Kighth. called the
victorious champion his " diamond."
\\ e are iven certain that Richard Cromwell fought
in the wars againsi the King, as did hishrothci 0
Henry. We cannot tind thai he desired cit her the position
or prominence that his father's rise to grc:i
957
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Richard Cromwell cared only to live and die a quiet, inof-
fensive, lazy country .squire. At any other time in the
history of the world he might easily have lived unknown,
iinhonnred, and unsung. It was his father's fame that
brought him into notice; it was because he had neither
tin1 «ill. the inclination, nor the ability to take up his
father's work, and carry it forward for the greatness and
glory of England, that to-day the world holds in such
•slight esteem this quiet sou of Cromwell.
We. should not blame people for not doing what they
cannot do. It may In-, indeed, that "lazy Dick" was not
shiftless, though he was lazy, nor a numbskull simply be-
cause he was not great. Richard Cromwell liked to take
tilings easy; he hated tube bothered: he liked to keep out
of trouble, and was willing to let the world wag as it
would so long as he had a comfortable home and nothing
particular to do.
There is nothing really bad in this; but boys and men
of that stamp, you kuow, never help the world along. And
I am afraid that "lazy Dick," notwithstanding all his op-
portunities and the high position to which he was finally
advanced, never did anything to help the world along.
If a good thing came iu his way he took it, enjoyed it
if he, could, and got out of it if it proved troublesome and
laborious.
When he was twenty his father tried to make him a
lawyer ; but he soon dropped that profession. He offered
him a command in the army, but Dick seems never to have
accepted it. When he was twenty-three he married a nice
girl in Hampshire. Oliver Cromwell loved her dearly, but
he and her father had their hands full trying to make
Dick " toe the mark."
Whenever he could, Richard Cromwell would slip away
from the work his father wished him to do and go out
hunting, or have a good time with other rich do-nothings
at his Hampshire farm. He disliked the almost kingly
court of his father at Whitehall Palace, and though sent to
Parliament, he did little and said less. And when he was
made one of his father's chief advisers — a privy councillor
— his counsels amounted to nothing, and his position was
simply what politicians call a sinecure.
When, at last, his great father's life went out, and Eng-
land was left without a head, Richard Cromwell was
named as his successor, and made Lord Protector. Lazy
Dick became King of England, without the title, but with
more of power than many a King before and after him
possessed.
But he had neither the skill nor the sense to hold what
the people had given him. I doubt if he cared either for
the place or the power. And they were his but a short
time. Dissatisfaction broke into revolt. The nation was
divided. The King came to his own again. Charles the
Second was placed upon the throne from which his father
had been hurled, and Richard Cromwell, without a word
of protest, without striking a blow for his power, stepped
quietly down from the Lord Protector's chair his father
had set up, and slipped back into private life, too weak to
be defended by his friends, too insignificant to be perse-
cuted by his foes.
He lived to be an old, old man, and died at eighty -six
amid his rose-gardens at Cheshuut, near London, nnhonored
and disregarded by the England his father had liberated,
but which the sou was too weak to uphold as a free com-
monwealth.
We must not be too hard on " lazy Dick." He had not
a spark of greatness in him, and should not be blamed for
failing to maintain his father's glory. It is a hard thing
for a small son to live up to the fame of a great father.
And yet the world does not take lack of ability into ac-
count. Richard Cromwell to-day has no place in the
world's esteem. His name lives because he was his father's
sou; because he was a failure' where his father had been a
success; and because his life was so sad and stupid a
sequel to the people's stand for liberty in the days made
glorious in English history by the might and power, the
grandeur and manliness, the strength and patriotism of
England's greatest man — Oliver Cromwell, great father of
a small son.
ITS MEANING.
(Tommii loq.)
UPON the quiet river,
Enamelled and serene,
Great flakes of oil are floating
In bine and pink and green.
"They look like maps all colored
In my geography,
Blue China, and green Ireland,
And pink Algiers I see.
"And still I think the meaning
Of all this oil I've found ;
It's this — a school of sardines
Right here is swimming round."
THE WATERMELON TIDE.
BY EARLE TRACY.
rTUIE great still tide that comes from the Gnlf when no
A one is expecting it reached up through the marshes
one summer night, and spread itself over the banks of the
bayou, and found numberless things in places of safety, and
when it was ready to go out again it took them along.
Among its discoveries was a schooner- load of water-
melons, about which Captain Lazare and the boss of the
big farm had disagreed so radically that the melons had
been left in a pile on the lauding to wait for other trans-
port. The tide charged itself with them, and when morn-
ing broke they were on their way to New Orleans.
Bascom had been tossing in his sleep as the little Mi/xtrni
did when the tide went in one direction along Potosi Chan-
nel and the wind went in the other. With the first glim-
mer of light he was up and down at the beach.
"Me, but it's been high," he gasped, coming up from his
first plunge and leaning back in the water as if it, were a,
steamer-chair. "It would be beautiful to run out with
in the Mystery — an' me goin' to pick figs all day iu them
dumb ole trees! I wish the canning factory would bust!"
Bascom was ready for the hardest kind of work at sea,
but things on shore were unutterably lifeless to him, and
how Captain Tony could have contracted to sell his figs in-
stead of letting the birds take care of them was past Bas-
com's understanding.
While he was floating and thinking mournfully of the
figs, one of the watermelons struck him softly on the cheek.
He bounded clear out of the water with fright, and as he
made for shore another melon came up under him and sent
him pelting through the shoals. He was not followed, and
when he felt grass under his feet, aud realized that he had
fled shoreward for safety aud that he had not been hurt at
all, he felt very queer.
"If they was popusses they'd be a-splashiu'," he reason-
ed; "an" if they was sharks they'd have eaten me — least-
ways they wouldn't have beeu so polite about lettiu' rue
excuse myse'f. I wonder what they is ?"
He moved gingerly into the deep water again, and at last
swam ont to investigate. He could see two or three dark
round surfaces letting the tide sway them easily away from
shore. At his approach they neither dived nor turned to
attack him. "They mighty tame," said Bascom, laying his
hand on one. "They — they's watermelons!"
"Where did you come from?" he asked, taking the near-
est iu his arms. "What po' dumb idiot let you get away
like this? Did you ax permission to come here visitin' me?
I'm mighty glad to see you, anyways. You's jus' who 1 was
a-thinkiu' of."
He capered round them for a while, then gathered them
all in a line within his arm. They were too many for him,
but the wrestle to keep them from bobbing over or under
and getting away was sheer delight. "Three melons!" he
repealed: "cooled in this high tide! Three of'em! What'll
Captain Tony say?"
He was so interested in thinking of Captain Tony's sur-
prise that the outside melon escaped from him, and he conld
not get it again without losing the other two.
" I'll come back for you," he promised; "you can't go far
958
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
'thontcn yciur fins grow." He, took the other two and put
them under a clump of palmettoes, where they would make
no new acquaintances while he was gone. "Don't know
as anybody else is .up," he said; "but they might lie. It
was a terrible hot night."
As he waded out again over the sharp oyster-shells the
sky had grown blue instead of gray, and a brightness
sprang across the water, touching hundreds and hundreds
of glistening green watermelons undulating with the fall-
ing tide.
Baseom's heart stood still. He stopped right where he
was, and his browu face grew tense with round-eyed won-
der. The water lapped against his breast. He almost let
it take him off bis feet. "I knowed they was called water-
melons," be said, slowly, "but I never caught 'em growing
iu the water by night before. How's wegoin' to get Vm in .'"
He looked from the melons toward the shore, where Cap-
tain Tony's long seine bung on the poles beside the sub-
merged pier. " Usses can haul 'em in, "he said.
Although it was exceedingly early there was no time to
lose. It would take two good hours to get the melons in,
and the people on the bay would he only too glad to help
in the rescuing as soon as they woke up. "Folkses is al-
ways so interested iu what I Hud," Bascom grumbled; but
for once no one troubled him. He roused Captain Tony,
and they hitched the net between two boats and, row ing
apart, circled around the melons with it, gathering them in,
until they were fairly rafting them before it toward the
shore. The net bulged in a great crescent, and Bascom
could hardly keep his boat abreast of the Captain's. The
weight they were towing made it seem as if his oars were
pulling through stiff clay. No net ou all the coast had
ever had such a full haul before. Bascom and the Captain
exulted in it, even while their faces grew scarlet.
"We can'd take iu anoder one," the Captain declared;
" de uet cau'd Stan' de strain." And closing together as
much as the mass between them would permit, they pulled
ashore and rolled the melons out in a line upon the beach.
The tide was going out so fast that each haul made a sepa-
rate rank farther aud farther out from the high drift-mark
in the grass.
It was glorious hard work, aud before it was finished the
suu bad turned the water violet, then red, then gold and
blue, and yet uo one had come to take a share in the sal-
vage, and uo one had come to claim the melons. " I tell
you," said Bascom, as he wheeled the last barrow-load up
from the beach — " I tell yon they's mascots, and they's come
right in from the deep sea. Do you reckon they's too
many of 'em for usses to eat , f"
The Captain straightened himself, and measured the
heap of cracked melons, which he had left out as he piled
the good oues symmetrically under one of the live-oaks.
"Yo' boy," he said, "if yo' jus' made way wid de busted
oues I'd be paintin'a black ring rouu'de mas' of de little
Mystery 'fo' sunset, an' w'ad would I do 'bond pickiu' de figs
faw de cannin' factm \ .'"
" 0-h-h," groaued Bascom, " I'd forgot about the figs.
Cau't they wait till we take these melous off iu the Mystery
aud sell 'em ?"
" De melous cau waid, ya-as, now we got dem all safe,"
said the Captain. " De cracked oues will not keep uoway,
an' de good oues will las' bettah dan de tigs. An' w'ad is
mo' to de point, dere is de ownah of de melous to consult."
"But he isu't here," Bascom said, " an' wo don't know
where he is. They didn't bring his address with 'em when
they come in ou the tide."
"I reckon I kuow his address," the Captain answered,
"an' maybe yo' would, also, if yo' let yo'se'f t'iuk 'bond id.
De big tide washed dem offde landiu' up de bayou. Lazare
wasa-tellin'me ycstahday dat he an' de boss ad de big fahm
had a quahl boud de price o' melous, an' Lazare, who was to
have take dem in de Alphoualne, he go off mad, an' de melons
dey stay iu a pile on de landiu', au' I was t'iukiu' bond goiu'
up to see de boss me aftah de tigs was pick'. I reckon now
de bes' way is faw me to go ad ouce while yo' pick de fi
" But we ought to start right now while the tide is goiu'
out, "objected Bascom.
" Dere will be oder tides, au' dey is waitiu' faw de figs ad
de factory." said the Captain. •• so I t'ink yo' bettah go to
pickiu', boy "; and without slopping f,,r I'm iher persuasion
from Itasi-oi.i he ^oi into his skiff and headed toward the
mouth of Bayou Porto.
As Bascom carried the last of the melons to a. Id to
heap il slipped limn liis hands accidentally, and split into
licb red pieces ou the, sand. •• I'-m." he said; "lucky it
was a cracked one." He took it up to eat it in the shade
of the live-oak. "Too bad," he added, " after you was so
euterprisin' to start out. by yourse'f that me an' Captain
Tony couldn't agree to take you right along. Queer how
folkses can't agree 'bout you. It' it wasn't for them dumb
ole figs! S'pose when I'm done, cat in" I i/ul to ^o up an'
go to pickin'. Seems like such a sailor as Captain Tony
hadn't ought to fuss with things ou shore."
His arms were aching from the heavy pull, and they did
not feel drawn toward the sticky rigs, and mud daiihcis
were sure to be in the trees ready to sting interfering peo-
ple, and he had not finished with the melon when Peter
Pierre, or Peter I'm', as the Creoles pronounce it, came
hopping leisurely along the beach, with one leg wrapped
around the other like a stork's. He was a neighbor's boy.
and had been seut to borrow Captain Tony's axe. There
would be no morning coffee at his house until Captain
TOH\ 's axe had chopped wood enough to build a tire.
" H-o !" said Peter Peer.
" H-o !" replied Bascom.
"Whose is dose melons?" cried Peter Peer. •' Wheah
did dey come from ?"
" Came down the bayou," said Bascom. "They's mine.
Mine an' ( 'aptaiu Tony's."
" Gimme one?"
"Nop,"said Bascom.
"Sell one?"
"N-nop, I reckon not. They ain't so many as they look."
" Heap o' cracked ones," said Peter Peer. " I'll trade \ o1
my play boat faw one."
"Eatin' the cracked ones," said Bascom, taking another
mouthful; "they's mighty sweet."
"Yo' cau'd eat dem all!" cried Peter Peer, his eyes roll-
ing hungrily from side to side.
"Look a-here, kid," said Bascom; "if you want one so
bad I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll let you pick figs for 'em.
I was want-in' to pick 'em myse'f, but it looks like I got to
stay aud take charge of these. I'll give you a cracked
melon for every basket of figs you pick."
"All right," said Peter Peer; "gimme de basket."
Bascom gave him a corner of melon to seal the bargain
and keep the basket from looking too huge, and Peter Peer
was soon whistling in the trees behind the Captain's house.
Bascom bad scarcely settled himself under the live-oak
wheu Sonny Ladnier and his younger brother came iu sight
with their red-sailed cat-boat, bent on au early trip to
Potosi. They saw the pile of melons, and it drew them
like an undertow.
"Wheah yo' ged all dem melous f" they shouted.
"Crowed 'em," replied Bascom; "do you want some .'"
"Yo' bet yo'!" cried Sonny, tying up the boat. "Hand
one ovah."
-What for?"
"Wat faw-? W'y. to eat."
"I mean, what will von give me?" Bascom explained.
"Two bits faw two."
Bascom shook his head. There was only one way in
which those melous could be had. After some argument
Sonuy and his little brother repaired to the tig-trees
with a chunk of melon iu one hand and a basket in the
other. Sonny Ladnier was big enough to have tried to
bully Bascom', but the people on the bay bad a r. sp.
foudness for him, not to mention his partner.
During the hour. Narcisse I'ontaine, big Noel 1,'ou.et.
Rubier Peer, who came to look tor Peter, and Patrice Kod-
rigiiex, with his pointed beard and bis reputation for duel-
ling, added themselves to I'.asco m's force behind the Cap-
tain's house, and the tigs were fairly charmed from the
trees. Bascom did not think it sale to h-a\e the
or more than a moment at a time, and be was -
alone beside it, aud had ju.«t cleaved open the crack of a
959
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"MAKE 'BM PICK YOUR FIGS!" HE SHOUTED
long striped " rattlesnake," when a strange schooner passed
by a length or two, then came about, and anchored off the
point. She was the Luna May, from Pass Christian, and
he had never seen her before. As three men got down in
her tender he could hear their voices as plainly as if they
were talking to him.
" 'Cose dey sell dem. Wat dey have detn faw ?"
" Bud we got no money. We speu' it all las' night."
"We cau trade 'im out of some. I give my kuife faw
one o' dem big ones. It's a terrib' hot day. Dat little
chap be mighty easy to bargain wid. Yo' see."
"You see," echoed Bascom, chuckling, as they left their
skiff, and came sauntering up to him. " Somethiu' I can
do for you geiitleuians to-day?" he inquired.
" Whose is dese melons ?" asked the first schooner-man.
"Mine, jus' now," said Bascom.
" Aw, get away."
"Well, they is."
"Den I reckou yo' lookiu' faw a chance to get rid o'
some o' dem."
"Not as I knows on," Bascom said.
"W'at?" cried the second schooner-man. "I'll give yo'
dis." He took out a big Spanish pocket-knife that opened
with a spring. " Yo' can have it faw free of dem."
"I don't reckon I need any knife," B;iscom said.
"Aw," said the third schooner-man, impatiently, "a lot
of dem is good faw not'ing. He got to give us some. If
he ain't got de sense to trade faw dem we take dem."
He spread Bascom out swiftly with his hands, and sat
down on him, directing his mates to pile melons in their
skiff. After the first instant Bascom did not offer the
slightest resistance. He lay gathering breath against the
weight of the man on his chest, and when he was quilt' sun-
of himself he let it out again in a terrific howl for help.
The man clapped a hand on his mouth, but Bascom had no
need to speak again. A posse of men and boys came dash-
ing round the lionsr. some of them putting down the bask-
ets, and others brandishing sticks as they ran.
The schooner-men jumped into iheir skill', but Patrice
and Knbier and Noel and Sonny Ladnier rushed into the
water afrer them, and brought them back. A dozen hands
rescued the stolen melons, while with Irish expletives and
Creole fierceness Patrice pounded the biggest man as a pre-
paration to bidding them good-by. The crowd was following
hisexample, audit would have gone hard with the strangers
if Bascom had not had a different mind.
'MAKE 'EM PICK YOUR FIGS!"
"Make 'em pick
your figs!" he shout-
ed. "Make 'em pick
your figs! They'll
look handsome in
the trees ! Make 'em
pick for you !"
The cry found fa-
vor, and the ver-
dict became, " If yo'
want to go free yo'
got to pick de
h'gs!"
When Captain
Tony and the boss
of the big farm ap-
proached the point,
and saw a strange
schooner anchored
there, the Captain
felt anxious. "I
hope de boys not
bavin' trouhl'," he
said. " I don' see
w'at dat boat wan'
stop dere faw."
As they landed,
Bascom met them
and explained.
" I've got the crew
of that schooner
pickiu' tigs for me,
an' some of the boys from round here is watchiu' that
they do it lively. They was honiu' for some cracked water-
melons, an' I thought they'd better do a little work, seeiu'
as they got out of temper."
The boss was a Northern man. He looked at Bascom's
agile weather-beaten figure, and they all went round to
see the force of overseers and the three men in the trees.
"That's about the way I have to work it, "he said. "More
overseers than men; but how do yours manage to make
the men work so lively ?"
"Ho!" said Bascom, "easy enough. They're workin' by
the job. Can't go till they're done."
But it was not until Patrice told why the strangers sat
so glum and warm and active in the trees that the Captain
and the boss understood.
" Yo' boy," said the Captain, as they went back to the
melon-pile, "an' y«' uevah picked a fig yo'se'f?"
"Not a one," said Bascom, candidly. "The boys came
along at first an' wanted to pick for cracked melons, au'
then 'bout the time they was gettiu' tired this schooner
hove in sight. After I begun to have comp'uy, looked like
it was best for me to watch the melons."
"And before?" laughed the boss.
" I'd had the misfortune to drop one," Bascom said. " It
busted, and I was lookiu' after the pieces."
The boss clapped Bascom on the shoulder. " You're the
man I've been hunting for down here," be declared. " Don't
ycm want to come up and help me run the farmf"
liascoin looked over at the little Mystery, the deep bine
of the bay, and the tree fringe on Deer Island, beyond which
lay the Gulf.
" I reckon they'd have to be a mighty long calm," he au-
s\\ ered ; " wouldn't they, Cap'u Tony?"
"They suah would," the Captain agreed. "In sailin'
weathah me an' Bascom mostly sails."
They counted the melons as they loaded them on board
the Mystery, agreed on a rate of salvage and a price, and
arranged for future dealings as the crop went on. The
schooner-men finished their work, and Bascom paid offtlic
overseers genernn.sly ; then the Mi/«ti'r>i raced the Luiui J/«//
to the bridge. and passed through first.
'• Well," sighed Bascom, when they had left the figs at
the canning-factory, and their faces were turned toward
the welcome reaches between Potosi and New Orleans, " if
it hadn't a-been for that honey of a tide I'd be up in them
dumb ole trees a-studyiu' 'bout pickiu' dem tigs."
960
OAKLEIQH.
BY EL LEX DOUGLAS DELAXD.
CHAPTER XIV.
IT was true, then. Neal bad gone.
Cynthia went to her mother's room and told her what
Janet had said.
•• It is what I feared," cried Mrs. Franklin ; " he has left
me forever! My dear and only brother! And where is
be ? Cynthia, Cynthia, why did he go? It almost, makes
me think he may have taken the money."
"Mamma, how can yon!" exclaimed Cynthia, indignant-
ly. "Neal never took it. I — I — oh, I knoir hr didn't take
it ! Can't yon believe me, mamma ?" She was crying.
"Dear child," said Mrs. Franklin, looking at her affec-
tionately, "you have more faith in him than I have. But
this running away is so much against him, Cynthia. If
he had been innocent, would he not have braved it out?"
" No ; he is so proud, mamma. That is the reason he
went, I am sure. He thought papa, suspected him. Oh,
why did papa ever think it ? Why did he say anything to
Edith for Janet to hear?"
" Hush, dear. Your father spoke thoughtlessly, hut it was
natural ; of course it was natural. But Neal should not
have gone. It is a false kind of pride. If he is innocent
he should have the pride of innocence and stay here."
It was what they all said. Cynthia went from one to
the other, trying to convince them and to imbue them, with
her own belief in Neal, but she could not. Even Jack, her
beloved twin-brother, was on the other side.
"Of course I want to believe in Neal, Cynth," lie said.
" I like him, and I never supposed before he'd do a low-
down thing like this. In fact, I can't really believe it now.
But why on earth did tlie fellow rim away ' If lie e.-nne
by the money all fair and square, why under tint sun didn't
he say so, instrad of slum in;; himsrlf ii|> like an i>\stcr,
and never letting on where he gut il .'"
"He had his reasons." persisted Cynthia. "Oh. .lark,
can't you believe me .' You :ilwa\ s used I.. l>elie\e me."
"Well, you used to tell a fellow more ihaii you do now.
You get mighty shut up yourself now and then. You
won't tell me what you're going to do with Aunt Betsey's
money, or why you didn't buy a watch, or anything. I'm
sure I don't want you to if you don't want to, but there's
no reason why I should always think as yon do."
If they had not been sitting side by side. Jack could not
. have failed to notice the peculiar expression that came into
Cynthia's face when he mentioned Aunt Betsey's present.
They were on the stone wall which crossed the river path.
Bob was with them, darting hither and thither, perhaps in
the vain hope of finding his master.
"I don't need a watch, I've told you over and over
again," said Cynthia. "But oh, Jack, I wish you would
agree with nie ! Indeed, Neal is honest."
"I believe he is myself, on the whole," said Jack at,
last ; " but it's a mighty queer thing he doesn't own up and
tell where he got that money, and lie's a great ass not to.
You see, the postmaster thinks that perhaps the park:!-.
did come from Aunt Betsey, and Xeal paid gold just a few
days later. Of course it looks queer."
It was the same way with Edith. She would not be
"OUGHT I TO TELL?" SUE SAID AGAIN AND AGAIN.
961
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
convinced, and after a vain argument with her Cynthia re-
tired to the only place where she was sure of being un-
disturbed, and cried until her eyes smarted and her head
ached. It was to the garret that she went when she
wished to be alone, and, amid the piles of empty paper
boxes and bars of soap and all the varied possessions that
were stored there, she sat and thought over the matter.
"Ought I to tell ?" she said again and again, speaking
iu a hoarse whisper. " Oh, why did I ever promise ?"
For Cvuthia had at last prevailed upon Neal to borrow
her money to pay Brouson with, and had promised that she
would not tell, and Cynthia had a very strict sense of honor.
"Ought I to tell?" she repeated. "No; a promise is a
promise, and I have no right to break it. I was silly, I
was idiotic ever to promise such a thing, bnt how did I
know it was coming out this way ? Perhaps he will come
back soon ; then I can make him tell."
But Neal did not come back. lustead of that, the next
morning Mrs. Franklin received a letter from him. He
repeated the same words. He could not stay where he
was insulted. If they could not believe him he would go.
He had a perfect right to use the money which he had
paid for the money-order, and he would never condescend
to explain where he got it. He was visiting a friend at
present, bnt he was going at once in search of some work.
He intended to support himself henceforth.
It was a very absurd letter, and it made Mr. Franklin
more angry than ever and his wife more distressed.
"It is perfect nonsense," said he. "The boy is not of
age and he can be stopped. I will write at once to his
guardians. In the mean time we will look him up in Bos-
ton ; from the postmark I suppose he is there."
" Oue of his guardians is abroad, and the other is that
Quaker cousin of my mother's," sighed Mrs. Franklin.
•• Give me his address, and don't worry, Hester. The
affair will come around all right, I have no doubt. He is
a headstrong boy and he needs a leash."
They could not find him in Boston. On going to the
houses of his various friends there the}' learned that he
had spent the night with one of them, but had left to go
to his guardian in Philadelphia, they said.
"I am inclined to let it stand as it is," said Mr. Franklin,
when he returned ; " if he has gone to Philadelphia let
him stay there. His old guardian will probably keep him
in better order than we can ; perhaps it will be better not
to interfere. I don't want to prejudice him against the
boy, and yet how can I explain why he left here ? He can
tell his own story."
His wife, however, wrote a letter to her brother, and ad-
dressed it to the care of her cousin, William Carpenter, of
Philadelphia. She hoped for an answer, but none came, and
iu a few days Mr. Franklin wrote to Mr. Carpenter, asking
if his brother-in-law had arrived, and then, without wait-
ing for a reply, he. concluded to go himself to Philadelphia.
The following Sunday was Easter day — it came late this
year. Cynthia, sitting iu the Franklin pew, saw to her dis-
may Tony Bronson on the other side of the church. He
was with the Morgans.
" Dear me," thought Cynthia, "there will be more trouble
now that he has come, for he will tell hateful things about
Neal, I'm sure. I do hope Edith won't see him."
Her thoughts wandered duriug the service. When it
was over, and the congregation streamed out of church
into the mild spring air, the Morgans invited Edith to come
home with them to dinner. This she agreed to do, much
to her sister's disgust; but Cynthia was still further in-
censed when Edith came back that afternoon and an-
nounced, in a wonld-be careless manner, that she had prom-
ised to drive with Tony Bronson the next day.
"Why, Edith!" said Cynthia, indignantly ; "I shouldn't
think you would have anything to do with that Bronsou.
He has been hateful to Neal."
" I don't know why you should say that," returned Edith ;
"any one would say that he had been exceedingly nice to
Neal. He lent him all that money, I'm sure. And, be-
sides, what difference does it make ? Neal has behaved
badly and run away. There is no reason why we should
give up people that Neal doesn't happen to like. Papa
said the other day that Tony Bronson was a very good sort
of fellow, because he wasn't in that last scrape of Neal's."
" Papa doesn't know a thing about him, and, at any rate,
papa wouldn't let you go to drive if he were at home. You
know he wouldn't."
Mrs. Franklin came into the room just at this moment.
"Would not let Edith go to drive, Cynthia?" she said.
"What do you mean, dear?"
"Go to drive with strange men like that Bronson."
" What nonsense !" said Edith, crossly ; " of course I can
go. Papa never in his life forbade my going to drive with
any of the boys. How silly you are, Cynthia!"
"Were yon going to drive with Tony Bronson, Edith ?"
asked her stepmother.
" Yes, I am going, to-morrow."
"I think I agree with Cynthia, then. I hardly think
your father would wish you to go."
" Why, how perfectly absurd!" exclaimed Edith, growing
very angry. "There has never been any question of my
going to drive with any one who asked me. Do you sup-
pose I am going to give it up now ?"
"I suppose you are, Edith," said Mrs. Franklin, quietly,
but with decision. " In your father's absence you are In
niy charge, and I do not consider it desirable for you to
drive with Mr. Bronson, nor with any other young man
whom yon know so slightly. It is not in good taste, to say
the least. Please oblige me by giving it up this time. If
I am mistaken in your father's views on the subject you
can go after he gets home."
"I won't give it up !" exclaimed Edith, hotly. "Tony
Brouson will be gone when papa gets home, and, besides,
what can I tell him ? I've said I would go."
"It is always possible to break an engagement of that
kind, "said her mother; "yon can tell him that you find I
have made other plans for yon."
"I sha'n't tell him any such thing, Mrs. Franklin. I
think it is too bad. You have no right to order me."
" No right, Edith ? I have at least a right to be spoken
to with respect, and you will oblige me by doing so. Please
send a note to Mr. Brouson by the man to-night."
She left the room, and Cynthia, who had restrained her-
self with great difficulty, now gave vent to her feelings.
"I don't see how you can be so horrid to mamma, Edith.
What are you thinking of? And when she is so worried
about Neal, too."
"Neal! Why should we suffer for Neal? She has no
right to order me ; I won't be treated that way. The idea
of it not being in good taste to drive with Tony Brouson !"
"Don't be so absurd, Edith. Why, even I know papa
wouldn't want you to. It's very different from going with
the Brenton boys that we have known all our lives. You
think I'm such an infant, but I know that much, and any
other time you would yourself. It is just because it is that
hateful Bronson. I can't understand what yon and Ger-
trude see in him. You are both so silly about him."
" I am not silly. I think he is very nice, that's all. I
wish you wouldn't interfere, Cynthia. You are silly to have
such a prejudice against him. I suppose I shall have to
write that note, and I do hate to give in to Mrs. Franklin.
Oh, why, why, why did papa marry again ?"
She raised her voice irritably as she said this, and added:
"All this fuss about Neal and everything! We never
should have had it if the Gordons hadn't come into the
family. Oh, I beg your pardon, I didn't see you." For
standing in the doorway was her stepmother.
"I am sorry that the coming of the Gordous has caused
yon so much trouble, Edith. We — we are unfortunate."
She turned away and went up stairs.
"Edith,! don't see how you can," exclaimed Cynthia.
"Mamma had so much trouble when she was a young girl,
and she was so alone until she came here, and now all this
about Neal. Eeally, I don't see how you can."
And she ran after her mother.
Edith, left alone, was a prey to conflicting emotions.
She knew she had done wrong — very wrong. She was
really sorry for the grief that Mrs. Franklin was suffering
on Neal's account, and she had not wanted to hurt her.
"Of course, I did not intend her to hear me. How did I
962
HAKPER'S EOUND TABLE
know she was there? It makes me so angry to thiuk that
I can't do what I want."
That was the gist of the whole matter. Edith wanted
her own way, and she was determined to have it. She sat
for a long time, thinking it all over. She did riot make
any great effort to quench her resentment, and so, of course,
it became more intense. After a while she went to the desk.
" I simply can't write him that I won't go," she said to
herself. "How they would all laugh if I said Mrs. Frauk-
lin ' had made other plans for me,' as if I were Janet's age !
No, I'll write Gertrude that I'll comedown and spend the day
with her, and perhaps when I get there I can induce Tony
to play tennis, or something, instead of going to drive. I'll
try and get out of it, as long as I must, but I'm going to
have a good time of some sort."
She wrote the note, and it was sent to the Morgans' that
night. Mrs. Franklin supposed, of course, that it was mere-
ly to give up the drive ; so she was surprised when Edith
announced that she was going to spend the next day with
Gertrude. However, she raised no objections, nor indeed
did she have any. Her mind was too full of Neal to think
of much else. Even tbe altercation with Edith failed to
make any lasting impression. Hester longed for her hus-
band to return and tell her what he had learned.
Cynthia did not take it so quietly.
"I think you are a goose, Edith," she said, the nest
morning. "Every one will think you are running after
Tony Brousou. You were there to dinner yesterday, and
now you are going again to-day."
Edith was greatly incensed.
"I am not running after him. How can you say such
things? I often go there two days in succession."
And she went off holding her head very high, being
driven to the village by Jack. Arrived at the Morgans',
she was warmly greeted by all.
" So good of you to come," murmured Brousou ; " now
we can start from here on our drive, and go over to Blue
Hill."
" I think I can't go to drive to-day. I — I thought per-
haps we could play tennis instead."
"Oh, Miss Edith! After your promise? I am not go-
ing to let yon off so easily. No, indeed; we are going to
drive. It is a flue day, and I've engaged a gay little mare
at the livery -stable."
Edith remonstrated feebly, but Bronson would not listen.
When she and Gertrude were alone she said :
" Why don't you go too ? We might all go to Blue Hill."
" No indeed !" laughed Gertrude. " I am not going a
step. I haven't been asked, and I wouldn't intrude."
"But it would be such fun," persisted Edith; "you
know we used to go in a crowd, and walk up the hill."
"Times have changed," returned her friend, pointedly.
" This time you are asked to go alone. If it were any one
but yon, Edith,! should be wildly jealous."
Edith blushed and looked conscious, and afterwards
when Brouson renewed his pleading she consented to go
with him. Unless they chanced to meet some of the family,
why need she tell that she had been to drive at all ?
Thus she deceived herself into thinking that she was
doing no wrong, and gave herself up to the enjoyment of
the moment.
That afternoon Mrs. Parker, Miss Betsey Trinkett's old
friend, called at Oakleigh.
"So glad to tiud you at home, Mrs. Franklin," she said.
" I met Edith a while ago, and she did look so sweet and
pretty, driving with that nice young man that stays at the
Morgans'. What's his name ?"
" You cannot mean Mr. Brouson ?"
"Bronsou, yes; that's it — Bronson. Yes, they were
driving away over towards Milton. And now do tell rue
about your brother. They say all kinds of things in Bren-
tou, but you can't believe half of them. I dare say you
know just where he is, after all."
" My brother went to Philadelphia, Mrs. Parker," said her
hostes's, controlling herself with difficulty. The shock of
hearing that Edith had directly disobeyed her was almost
too much for her.
" To Philadelphia ! Have you friends there ?'
"Yes, I have a cousin."
"Well, now, I'm glad to hear that! I'll just tell
and stop their tongues; they do say so much they don't
mean. Why, only this afternoon somebody said they'd
been told that Neal Gordon had been seen walking over
the Boston road. That's the very reason I came up here,
to see if it was true, and here he is away off in Philadel-
phia!"
" The Boston road f"
"Yes, and to think of his being in Philadelphia all the
time! Well, I must be going, Mrs. Franklin. Edith did
look sweet. You dress her so prettily. I always did
think those girls needed a mother. Here's Cynthia."
Walking up across the green from the river came Cyn-
thia, with a paper in her hand which she was reading. At
sight of Mrs. Parker and her mother standing at the car-
riage door, she hastily thrust the paper into her pocket.
Cynthia had been after wild-flowers to plant in the bed
she had for them. She was in the woods not far from
home when a small and ragged boy approached her.
" Be you Cynthy ?" he asked.
She looked up from her digging, startled.
" Yes," she said.
" Then here's for yer, and yer not to tell nobody."
So saying, the messenger disappeared as rapidly and
mysteriously as he had come.
Cynthia opened the crushed and dirty paper, and to her
astonishment found Neal's handwriting within.
" Meet me on Brenton Island near the bridge, Tuesday,
as early as you can. And don't tell I am here. Kemeru-
ber, don't tell."
The last words were heavily underlined.
Cynthia's heart stood still from excitement. Neal so
near, and his sister not to know it! But she would pre-
vail upon him to come home. He could not refuse her
after all they had been through on his account.
Full of hope, she gathered up her trowel and her basket
of plants and ran towards the house. Fortunately that
tiresome Mrs. Parker was there, and so her mother would
not notice her excitement. For once Cynthia was glad to
see the lady. Since her escapade of the year before she
had always been somewhat ashamed of meeting her.
An hour or two later a closed carriage came slowly up
the avenue. Dennis Morgan was on the box with the
coachman. Inside were Gertrude, Dr. Farley, and Edith,
and Edith was unconscious.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
BY WILLIAM HAMILTON GIBSON.
ft F all the insects which occasionally
claim our attention in our connii\
rambles, there is probably no example
more entitled to our distinguished
consideration than the plebeian, com-
monly despised, lull admittedly amus-
ing beetle known the country over
as tlie funny " tumble-bug." As we
see him now, so he has always been
the same in appearance, the same in
habits, yet how has lie fallen from
grace! how humbled in the eyes of man i'min that
original high estate when, in ancient Egypt, he en-
joyed the prestige above all insects, where, as the sacred
"scarabs>us," he was dignified as the emblem of immortality,
and worshipped as a god ! The arcba-i.logical histoi
Egypt is rich in reminders of his former eminence.
only do we see his familiar shape (as shown in our initial
-
963
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
,
•
. '
design > everywhere among those ancient hieroglyphs en-
graved iu the rock or pictured on the crumbling papyrus;
but it is especially in association with death and the tomb
that his important significance is emphasized. The dark
mortuary passages and chambers hewn in solid rock often
hundreds of feet below the surface, where still sleep
the1 mummied remains of an entire ancient people, ami
which honeycomb the
earth beneath the
feel of the traveller
in certain parts of
I Igj | it. are still elo-
quent iu tribute to
the saered searab.
Tin1 lantern of the an-
tiquarian explorer in
those1 dark dungeons
of death discloses
the suggestive figure
of this beetle every-
where engraved in
high relief upon the
walls, perhaps enliv-
ened with brilliant
color still as fresh as
« ben painted three
thousand years ago,
emblazoned in gold
and gorgeous hues
upon the sarcophagus
and the mummy-case
within, and again
upon the outer cov-
ers of the wind-
ing-sheet, finally,
iu the form of
small ornaments
the size of na-
ture, beautifully
car\ed on pre-
cious stones en-
closed wit hill t lie
wrappings of the
mummy itself.
What other
insect has been thus
glorified and immortal-
ized? For the sake of
its proud lineage, if no-
thing else, is not out-
poor tumble -bug de-
serving of our more
than passing attention ?
Au insect which has
thus been distinguished
by an entire great peo-
ple of antiquity has
some claims on our re-
spect and considera-
tion.
But aside from his
historical fame, he will
well repay our careful
study, and serve to
while away a pleasant ,'
hour in the observance
of his queer habits. He
is now no longer the awe- MR. AND MRS. TUMBLE-BUG
inspiring sacred scarab,
but Mr. Tumble-bug, or rather " Mr. and Mrs. Tumble-bug,"
for a tumble-bug always pictured in the ancient hieroglyph
is rarely to be seen iu its natural haunts. Mr. and Mrs.
Tumble-bug are devoted and inseparable, and as a rule vie
with each other in the solicitude for that precious rolling
ball with which the insects are always associated. From
June to autumn we may find our tumble-bugs. There are
a number of species included in the group of ScarabsBus to
which they belong. Two species are particularly familiar,
one of a lustrous bronzy hue, with a very rounded back,
usually found at work ou the country highway in the track
of the horse, and the other, the true typical tumble-but;, a
flat-backed, jet-black lustrous species which we naturally
associate with the barn-yard and cow-pasture. The latter
may be taken as an illustrative example of his class, ami
his ways are identical with that of his ancient sacred con-
gener and present inhabitant
of Egypt.
When we first see them
they are generally manipu-
lating the hall — a small mass
of manure in which an egg
has been laid, and which by
rolling in the dust has now
become round and lirmly in-
crusted and smooth. l,et us
follow the couple in their ap-
parently aimless though no
less expeditious and vehe-
ment labors. They have now
brought their globular charge
through the grassy stubble,
and have reached a clear
spot of earth with scattered
weeds. Of course we all
know from the books that
their intention is to find a
suitable spot in which to bury
this ball, and such being the
ca~e, \\ith what astonishing
stupidity do they urge on
that labor! Here
certainly is just
the right spot I'm
yon. Mrs. Tum-
ble-bug! Stop
rolling and dig!
But no. she will
not listen to rea-
son. She mounts
the top of the
ball, and, deep-
ing far out upon
it, pulls it over
forward with her
back feet, while
Mr. Tumble-bug
helps her in a
most singular
fashion. Does he
stand up ou his
hind legs on the
opposite side,
and push with
his powerful
front feet? Oh
no: he stands ou
his head, and
pushes with his hind legs.
As he pushes, and as the ball
rolls merrily on, Mrs. Tum-
ble-bug is continually lolled
around with it, and must
needs climb backwards at a
lively rate to keep her place.
A foot or two is thus trav-
elled without special in-
cident, when a slight trou-
ble occurs. The ball has struck an obstacle which
neither Mrs. Tumble - bug's pull nor Mr. Tumble - bug's
push can overcome. Then follow an apparent council
and interchange of Tumble-bug talk, until at length both
put their shovel-shaped heads together beneath the sphere,
ami over it goes among the weeds. It is soon out again
upon the open. Now, Mrs. Tumble-bug, everything is plain-
sailing for you ; here is a long down grade over the smooth
Why, the ball would roll down itself if you
'••'-. • ,
•
••'•"•
' ' ' '•"..'•
'V''
ROLLING THE BALL.
clean dirt !
964
I
, .
•
*.* •
FROM HIS
1U(J DIGGING
DUNGEON.
pauses, and the ball rests.
and both beetles now creep
about, shovelling up the
dirt here and there with
their very queer little flat
beads. Ah. perhaps they are
going to start that //»/.
which all the books tell us
about. But no; the place is
evidently not quite satis-
factory, both of them seem
so to conclude, like two
souls with but a single
thought. Mrs. T. is up on
the bridge in a jiffy, and Mr.
T. takes his place at the
helm ; and now what au easy
time they will have of it
down this little slope; but.
no, again; tumble-bugs don't
seem to care for an easy
time. A hundred times on
i heir tra\ els will they pass
the very best possible spot
for that burrow, a hundred
times will they persist in
guiding that lil tie world of
theirs over an obstruction,
\\heu a clear path lies an
inch to the right or left of
them. And here, when their
labors might be so easily lightened by a downward grade,
what do they dot they deliberately turn the ball about
and bustle it along up liiU, and that too over dirt that is
not half as promising. Tip they go! Mrs. T. now seems to
have the best of it, and I sometimes have my suspicious
whether she is not playing a prank on thai unsuspecting
spouse working so hard at her back, for he now has not
only the ball, but Mrs. T. as well, to shove along, for the
most that she can do is to throw the weight of her body
forward, which in a steep up grade amounts to nothing as a
help.
But if she is imposing ou Mr. T. in thus guiding the ball
up hill, she soon gets the Roland for her Oliver. Mr. T. is
put to great extra labor by this whimsical decision of hers,
and woe to Mrs. T. when that little chance valley or inequal-
ity of surface is reached. Even though she can see it com-
ing and holds the wheel, she rarely seems to take advan-
tage of it to save herself or her ship, while Mr. T., going
backward in the rear, of course cannot be expected to know
what is coming, nor be blamed for the consequences. With
kick after kick from his powerful hind feet, united with
the push of his mighty pair in front, the ball speeds np the
slope. Now for some reason he gives a backward shove of
more than usual force when it was least necessary. The
ball had chanced upon the crest of aslope, when, kick! over
it goes with a pitch and a bound, and Mrs. T. with it, though
this time not ou top. Happy is she if the ball simply rolls
upon her and pins her down. Such, indeed, is a frequent
episode in her experience of keeping the ball arolliug, but
occasionally the tumble-ball thus started, and oui 01 the
control of her spouse at the rear, may roll over and over for
a long distauce, but never alone. No amount of demoraliza-
tion of this sort ever surprises her into losing her grip on
her precious globular bundle. When at last it fetches up
against a stone or stick, and she assures herself that she
and her charge are safe and sound.no doubt she immedi-
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
ately mounts to its crest to signal the lone Mi. T. afar oil',
who is quickly back of her again, ami bolh arc pr ptly
off on a fresh journey. And so they keep it up.appan ui K
- . for sport, perhaps for an hour.
At length \\ hen t hey have played long enough — for there
is no other reason apparent to litimn »«/;ii n> ihe\ decide
to plant their big dirty pellet. The place \\ Inch tliey have
chosen is not half as promising as many they have passed.
but that doesn't seem to matter. Mrs. T. has said. " It shall
would only let it: but.no, go here," and that ends it.
.she will Hui let it. She I hen follows a most singular exhibition of excavation
and burial. The ball is now resting quietly on the dirt,
and the two beetles are apparently rummaging around be-
neath it, trying the ground with the sharp edge of their
shovel-shaped faces. And now, to avoid confusion, we will
dismiss Mr. T., and confine our observation strictly to the
female, who usually (in my experience) conducts the rcsi
of the work alone.
She has evidently found a spot that suits her. and we
expect her to fulfil the directions of the books and entomo-
logical authorities. She must "dig a deep hole lirst.aud
then roll the ball into it, and till it up a._ain." I'.nt we will
look in vain for such obedience. Instead of this she per-
sists in ploughing around beneath the ball, w hich seems at
times almost balanced on her back, until all the earth at
this point is soft and friable, and she is out of sight under
it. Presently she appears again at the .surface, and as
quickly disappears again.
this time going in upside
down beneath the ball.
which she pulls downward
with her pair of middle
feet, while at the same
-... ^o-'Vi. i1^" time with hind legs and
powerfuldigging from legs
she pushes outward and
upward the loose earth
*' . . V L v-
, •- \ I -
. ^ •-,,
• •• /~-
. -:i«.vr. 1
«$£&<rui
'-^•tf-^'^M
.
SINKING THE BALL.
965
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
•which she has accumulated. Visibly the ball sinks
into the cavity moment by moment as the earth is low-
ered for a space of half an iuch in the surrounding soil,
and continually forced upward outside of its circumfer-
ence, lu a few moments the pellet has sunk level with
the ground, and in a few moments more the loose earth
pushed upward has overtopped it and it is out of sight.
Still, for hours this busy excavator continues to dig her
hole and pull the ball iu after her with shovel head and
molelike digging feet, scooping out a circular well much
larger than the diameter of the ball, which slowly sinks by
its own weight, aided by her occasional downward pull as
this same loosened earth is pushed upward above it. The
burrow is thus sunk several inches, when the beetle ploughs
her way to the surface and is ready for another similar ex-
perience.
The remaining history of the ball and its change is soon
told. The egg within it soon hatches, the larva finding
just a sufficiency of food to carry it to its full growth,
when it transforms to a chrysalis, and at length to the
tumble-bug like its parent. The formerly loose earth above
him is now firmly packed, but he seems to know by in-
stinct why those powerful front feet were given to him,
aud he is quickly working his way to the surface, and iu a
day or so is seen iu the barn-yard rolling his ball as skil-
fully as his mother had done before him.
Such is the method always employed by the tumble-bug
as I have seen him. And yet I have read in many natural
histories and have heard careful observers claim that the
hole is dug first and the ball rolled in. Perhaps they vary
their plan, but I doubt it. Here is a matter for some of
our boys aud girls to look into.
process of erection — in fact, of anything which came iu his
way which he could get pay for, and the result is that he
has a snug sum in the bank, and looks on his camera as a
financial friend.
Working for a prize stimulates one to do his best, and
even though one should not be fortunate enough to win a
prize the effort to excel will not be lost. It will be a help
in more ways than one. This year we hope that at least
half of the prizes will be carried off by our Ladies. A
camera is specially adapted to be a girl's companion and
source of pleasure. Cameras are now made so very light
and compact that they are no burden to carry, and if one
uses films they are still lighter. Girls as a rule are more
careful workers than boys, and should therefore make the
best amateur photographers, for it takes care as well as
skill to produce a good picture.
Look over your pictures that yon have made this sum-
mer, select those which you think are the best, finish them
up iu a neat and tasteful manner, aud seud them in before
the competition closes. If you have none which you think
worthy of a prize, set about making some without delay.
If you do not win a prize you will have the benefit of care-
ful criticism, aud will stand a better chance of winning
another time.
Any questions iu regard to the prizes, or about making
pictures for the competition, will be auswered promptly.
Sic KNIGHT AI.FHKI> C. BAKKR encloses two very pretty waterscapes,
and asku the cause of the black marks near the edge of one of the
pictures, and also asks to have the pictures criticised, both from a
technical and artistic point The black spots, as far as can be judged
from the finished print, seems to be caused by scratches on the 41m.
If so, the print can be trimmed just enough to cut them off from the
picture. The print which is numbered 141 is the better picture. It li'iis
more contrast of light and shade, the perspective is betier- The old log
in the foreground and the stretch of shore give the effect of distances
which the other picture lacks. Another thing which makes this picture
more attractive than the other is the alight ripple on the water. It has
the same effect as do clouds in the sky. If Sir Alfred will study the
two prints he will readily sue what is meant. No. 140 would be im-
proved if about half an inch of the foreground were trimmed away.
No. 141 would make a very nice platniuum print or plain-paper print.
Ttvs Department is conducted in the Interest of Amateur Photographers, and the Editor will
be pleased to answer any question on the subject so fur us possible. Correspondents should
address Editor Camera Ciub Department.
OUR PEIZE OFFER.
THE members of the Camera Club will notice that our
competitiou this year is confined to three subjects or
classes — Marines, Landscapes, aud Figure Studies. All the
prizes are in money, and there are ten prizes. The mem-
bers are not restricted as to the number of prints they
may send in, nor are they barred from any class. A mem-
ber may compete in each of the five classes, and has ten
chances of winning a prize.
We want every Knight and Lady of our Camera Club to
compete for these prizes. We also want you to tell your
friends about them, and get them to join the Camera Club.
A circular which tells all about the Club has just been
issued by Harper & Brothers. It tells what the Club is for,
gives prospectus for the coming year, gives the formula for
plain paper, which so many of you have been writing
about, aud also gives the prize offers, rules, etc., of the com-
petitiou. Copies of the circular will be sent to any mem-
ber who applies for them, and we would like each member
to help iu distributing them.
Last year but few Ladies of the ROUND TABLE sent in
pictures for the prize competition. This year we want all
the Ladies who belong to the Camera Club to seud iu pic-
tures. One of the Sir Knights who took a prize last year
was so encouraged by his success that he has beeu work-
ing steadily all the year, and has made quite a good deal
of money. A letter received from him a few weeks ago
states that he should never have thought of making money
with his camera if he had not won a prize, but the ten-
dollar check which he received for his picture suggested
to him that if he could take a picture good euough to win
a prize he could take good euough pictures to sell. He has
made pictures of boats, of children, of pets, of buildiugs iu
THE BELLS OF NINE O'CLOCK.
SLEIGH-BELLS iu winter, ship's bells at sea,
Church bells on Sunday — oh ! man}' bells there be — -
But the cheery bells of nine o'clock
Are the merriest bells for me.
School bells at nine o'clock, and straightway the street
Breaks into music with the rush of little feet.
Clatter, patter, swift they go, wide stands the door,
School bells are ringing now, holidays are o'er.
Silver bells and golden bells, aud bells with iron throats,
Cowslip bells and lily bells, aud bells with tripping notes,
Oh ! many bells and merry bells, aud liquid bells there
be,
But the sturdy bells of uiue o'clock are the clearest bells
for me. M. E. S.
This Department is conducted in
be pleased to answer any question
address Editor.
PUDDING
e interest of Girls and Youne Women, and the Editor wil I
11 the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should
TTTHAT must I wear? is a question quite often on girlish
* * lips, and a girl's satisfaction with herself depends a
good deal on the answer to it. Nobody enjoys being badly
or strikingly dressed, and in this matter I am much of the
opinion of Mrs. John Hancock, the great lady whose hus-
band's signature stands out so splendidly on our Declara-
tion of Independence. Mrs. Hancock said in substance
966
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
that she could not approve of a girl who was indifferent to
her dress, nor of one who showed that she was thinking
about it, and that she was pleased with the effect she made.
A girl must not strut about like a vain peacock ; she must
wear her clothes as the plant wears its flowers — uncon-
sciously.
IK YOU ARE SENSIBLE and clear-headed girls you will not
wish to have many frocks at once. A strong serviceable
serge for every -day wear, a pretty cashmere or silk for
best, a simple white frock for evening, two or three sep-
arate waists, and an extra skirt to relieve the serge, are
sufficient for the winter wardrobe of a well-dressed young
girl. In summer one requires more changes, but, print and
muslin and gingham frocks are cheap, and, if neatly made,
are always appropriate. Of under-clothing have as simple!
a supply as you can take care of. The dainty girl likes to
be clothed in fresh and clean garments next the skin, aud
where her clothing is not seen. These garments may be
of tine and nice material, but the school-girl aud the young
woman should avoid elaborate frills and puft's and tucks,
embroideries and laces, for these are easily torn, and are
hard upon the laundress. Of stockings a half-dozen pairs
are necessary, of handkerchiefs two or three dozen, and of
linen for the neck and wrists enough to insure one's per-
sonal perfect neatness on every occasion. Gloves and shoes
are important parts of a young lady's outfit. Of the former
two pairs, oue for best and one for common wear, will
probably be enough to have at once, and of the latter, if
you can' afford it, have three or four pairs, for out-door and
iu-door uses. A young woman whose gloves aud boots are
good of their kind, and in nice order, will always appear
well dressed. A water-proof cloak, a thick warm jacket,
aud two hats, one a toque, trim and dainty, the other a
wider and more picturesque affair, with a brim, and lea-
thers. ribbons, or flowers for trimming, will meet all ex-
igencies. Don't wear birds or wings on your hats. No
ROUND TABLE Lady must countenance the cruel killing of
little birds that her hat may be adorned iu a barbaric fash-
ion. The prejudice humane people feel against the wear-
ing of slain birds does not extend to ostrich feathers.
while on the land the same could only lie heard at 70 feet.
Professor Tyndall, when on Mont Blanc, found tin1 report
of a pistol-shot no louder than the, pop of a champagne
bottle. Persons in a balloon can hear voices from the earth
a long, time after they themselves arc inaudible to people
below.
/
SOME CURIOUS FACTS CONCERNING
HEARING.
AN inquiry was recently made in London as to the
greatest distance at which a man's voice could be
heardt leaving, of course, the telephone out of considera-
tion. The reply was most interesting, and was as follows :
Eighteen miles 'is the longest distance on record at which
a man's voice has been heard. This occurred in the Grand
Canon of the Colorado, where oue man shouting the name
" Bob " at one end his voice was plainly heard at the other
end, which is eighteen miles away. Lieutenant Foster, on
Parry's third arctic expedition, found that he could con-
verse with a man across the harbor of Port Bowen, a dis-
tance of 6696 feet, or about one mile and a quarter; and
Sir John Fraukliu said that he conversed with ease at a
distance of more than a mile. Dr. Young records that at
Gibraltar the human voice has been heard at a distance of
ten miles.
Sound has remarkable force in water. Collation, by ex-
periments made in the Lake of Geneva, estimated that a
bell submerged in the sea might be heard a distance ot
more than sixty miles. Franklin says that he heard the
striking together of two stones in the water half a mile
away Over water or a surface of ice sound is propagated
with 'great clearness and strength. Dr. Huttou relates
that on a quiet part of the Thames near Chelsea he could
hear a person read distinctly at the distance of 1
ON BOARD THE ARK.
BY ALBERT LEE
CHAPTER VIII.
TI^HE Lion bowed in a dignified manner to the Gopher.
_I_ aud rapped on the table again to bring the Parrots to
order, aud then the Gopher said, very slowly aud delib-
erately :
"When is a door not a door?"
The animals stared at one another, and whispered, and
gazed up and dowu the table as if they thought they might
possibly derive inspiration from the dishes. Tommy and
the ex-Pirate said not a word. Presently the Gopher re-
peated :
" When is a door not a door ?"
But no one could guess, and after a few moments more
of anxious aud strained silence the Gopher said :
" I suppose I shall have to tell you. A door is not a door
when it is ajar."
The animals fairly roared and shrieked with laughter.
They bellowed aud howled and pounded ou the table, and
the Gopher became so much affected with appreciation of
his own wit that he fell over backwards, and almost stunned
a Newfoundland puppy who was trying to get his nose above
the table to see what it was all about. Tommy had never
realized before what the expression "to roar with laugh-
ter" really signified, and he concluded he never wanted
to experience such a realization again. The noise was so
great that he had to put his fingers to his ears. When the
merriment had partially subsided, the little hoy leaned
over to the ex-Pirate aud said:
" I have heard that joke before ; haven't you ?"
" Indeed I have," answered the ex-Pirate, " many a time."
" It's au awfully old one, isn't it?"
"I always suspected it was first gotten oft" in the Ark,"
said the ex-Pirate, shaking his head knowingly ; " but I did
not know the Gopher was responsible for it."
By this time the animals had recovered themselves, aud
some were shouting to the Gopher for more jokes. He
got up and protested that he did not know any more; and
then, suddenly pointing to the ex-Pirate, he exclaimed:
" He's a funny one. He can recite things !"
Thereupon the animals all gazed at the ex-Pirate, aud
the Lion said, " Recite things."
The ex-Pirate never needed much urging to do this sort
of thing, and so when Tommy whispered to him to read
the seventeenth chapter of his autobiography which he
knew his friend had in his pocket, aud of which the little
. boy had only heard the first few lines, the ex-Pirate arose.
anil, bowing in his visual way to all his hearers, he pulled
his manuscript from his coat and began to read :
The following day the sun rose up as usual from the East
The sea was" calm, the sky was clear, the stormy win
The Black Avenger sped along before a gentle breeze,
And the starboard watch loafed on the deck 111 true pir:
ease.
I took my breakfast down below, and when I came on decK
I looked 'about, and far away I saw a little speck
Upon the blue horizon, and I knew it wa- a sail,
For in matters of this nature, my eyesight could not fail.
I called my swarthy Bo's'n, and I said to him, said I
"If we don't overtake that ship, I'll kno« the reason why;
If we don't overtake her ere the sun shines overhead
I'll cut the whiskers off tin- crew before I go to bed!
The Bo's'n nodded cheerfully and swore a tearful oath,
(He called upon the Sun and Moon, an, 1 scandalized them bi
And then he hitched his trousers up aud piped his
shrill,
967
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE ANIMALS ROARED WITH LAUGHTER AT THE GOPHER'S JOKE.
And made the loafing pirates heave the halyards with a will.
The Bin'-}:' Arin'hi- i-| »." 1 along and ploughed the boiling sea,
The rigging creaked, the sails stood out, the foam flew fast and
free.
The pirates gathered on the deck and buckled on their swords,
Rolled up thru sleeves, and combed their beards, and spoke pi-
ratic words.
But suddenly the Ro's'ii came a-rushing up to me,
His face was pale, his nose was red, he spoke: "Good sir,"
said he,
" Yon vessel is from Switzerland, and, verily, I fear
We'll find she is not what she seems, as soon as we get near;
She looks to me as though she might — might be a priva-
teer !"
(But when he found she wasn't one, he shed a private tear.)
Said I: "Load up the cannons, boys, with ten-pound cannon-
balls ;
I care not what yon ship may be, into my hands she falls !
We'll take her, and we'll take her guns, her captain, and her
crew,
HIT cook, her cabin steward, and her precious cargo, too !"
So the Gunner and the Gunner's Mate they lifted up the
hatch,
And they called upon the pirates who formed the starboard
watch
To help them lift the cannon-balls from out the magazine
Where all the cannon-balls were kept, wrapped up in bomba- •
zine.
But presently the Gunner's Mate came rushing to the rail,
His hair was standing up on end, his face was very pale,
He cried: "Oh, Captain, woe is me, no cannon-balls are left;
Of shot and shell of every kind the magazine's bereft.
There's not a piece of shrapnel, no canister or grape,
There's not enough of buckshot to kill a good-sized ape !"
The Bo's'n, who stood near at hand, gazed sadly at us both,
And then he pulled his pistols out and swore a mighty oath:
"How shall we take yon Switzer ship," he said, "without a
shell ?"
"We've yot to fight," I answered him. "Won't cheese do
just as well?"
For, two days previously, you know, we met a brigantine
From Amsterdam for Zululand, by name the Bandnl'mr,
And in her hold she carried a fine cargo, if you plra-r,
Cnn-iMing of a hundred thousand dozen Edam cln
We took a hundred dozen and stowed them on the poop
l!ct ween the after cannon and the Captain's chicken-coop.
(The crew had used the cheeses and some bottles from the
galley,
The day before, to impro-
vise a sort of bowling-
alley.)
Said f : " We'll take these
Edam cheese and put
them in the guns,
Add shoot them at the
Switzer ship until she
sinks or runs;
For surely such proceeding
will be worse than shot
or shell,
Just think of being hit with
cheese — say nothing of
the smell !"
The pirates laughed and
vowed my scheme
would give them lots
of fun ;
And soon a big, red, round,
Dutch cheese was
rammed in every gun.
It was not long before the
Biatk Amwjer came
abreast
And hailed the ship from
Switzerland with true
piratic zest ;
But not a Switzer said a
word, nor made they
any sign,
But all the sailors on the
ship were ranged along
in line,
And leaned upon the star-
board rail, with sunken
pallid cheeks
As though they had not tasted food for six or seven weeks.
The swarthy Bo's'n hailed again, and as no answer came
The Gunner's Mate averred it was high time to start the game.
I spoke the word, and seven guns all loaded up with cheese
Were fired at the Switzer ship as nicely as you plea-e;
And then a second volley went, and soon again a third,
And when the smoke had cleared away we saw what had oc-
curred.
Each cheese had hit the Switzer ship and flattened on her
decks,
The Switzer men were wailing in the cheese up to their necks.
We waited then to see what sort of fighting they would make,
And wondered how much cheese these Switzer sailor-men could
take.
But as we waited silence came all o'er the Switzer craft,
And not a seaman seemed to move, or forward or abaft.
I called the Bo's'n to the bridge, and "Take the gig," said I;
"Go board yon ship, where all is still, and learn the reason
why."
The Bo's'u quick got in the gig with sixteen of the crew,
He took along a cannon and an Edam cheese or two.
And half an hour he was gone, then slowly rowed he back ;
He said to me: "Good Captain," he sobbed, "alas, alack !
Upon that floating vessel there's no one left to fight ;
There's not a living creature, not a living thing in sight.
No man remains to give reply to any kind of question :
The Switzers ate up all the cheese, and died of indigestion."
There was another great demonstration of approval as
soon as the ex-Pirate had concluded, but Tommy paid little
attention to the noise this time, because he bad become
somewhat accustomed to it.
"You see," said the ex -Pirate, apologetically, " I could
riot very well read anything like that — all about cheese —
in the presence of the Welsh Rabbit ; could 1 ""
"Of course not," agreed Tommy ; " but is it true that —
" I say," interrupted the Gopher, leaning in front of Tom-
my and addressing himself to the ex-Pirate; "I know an-
other joke LIOW. I know what the BoYn said to the Guu-
iier's Mate wheu he told him to shoot at the ship."
•• Well, what did he tell hiui ?" asked the ex-Pirate, in-
raiir ioiisly.
"Cheese it!" shouted the Gopher, who was immediately
seized with such a violent fit of laughter that he fell under
the table, and almost buried himselfttuderthe pile of broken
soup plates.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
963
u
5INTERSCHOEASTIG
ALTHOUGH THE CASCADILLA SCHOOL has not practised
rowing so long as St. Paul's, of which this Department
spoke last week, it has made rapid strides ever since the
sport \vas introduced there two years ago, and now boasts
of a well-equipped navy. Owing to the school's location on
Caynga Lake, aquatics will become the distinctive form of
athletics there in the future, although, as a member of the
New York State Intersc!) elastic League, football and base-
ball teams are also pnt into the field. But, it is a good
thing to have rowing developed in some of the preparatory
institutions, and I shall not regret to see some of the vast
amount of energy that now appears to be running riot in
track athletics turned into this new channel. Every large
school situated near a watercourse or a lake ought to add
rowing to its list of sports, if it is possible to do so.
• THE PRINCIPAL DIFFICULTY in the way of such progress
at present lies in the fact that so few schools have crews,
that interscbolastie contests are hard to arrange. The
Cascadilla oarsmen are fortunate in having the Cornell
crews to row against, and each year they get races with
tin; Freshmen and 'Varsity eights. Thus far they have se-
cured no victories over either of these rivals, but as the
sport grows older with them they should make a better
showing from year to year. The Cascadilla commodore is
now negotiating with a school near Philadelphia that has
taken steps toward the organization of a crew, and it is
possible that next summer will witness the tirst of a series
of iuterscholastic regattas between these progressive insti-
tutions.
THE SAME LACK OF A SCHOLASTIC RIVAL hampers rowing
at St. John's Academy, Uelatield, Wisconsin, where the
school eight have to seek as their opponents the crews
of Madison University. Last spring tlie\ defeated the W
crew by three lengths in an exciting nice over the Naga-
wicka course in Ilie excellent time of s min.3 sec. This \ ie-
tory was all the more creditable tVom the fact that several
of the Madison 'Varsity men had seats in t he '97 boat. I
have spoken of the rowing which is done in the several
schools mentioned to show that it is possible for young
men not yet in college to approximate the work performed
by older athletes. The Department has devoted space to
the description of the crews and their methods in the hope
of encouraging other institutions to take up the sport dur-
ing the coming winter and next spring. It is an excellent
exercise, and a seat in the 'Varsity boat is looked upon as
the greatest athletic honor a college man may attain, ex-
cepting, of course, a captaincy. It must be the same in
every school where rowing is practised, and the school that
has a crew in the spring is bound to have a better football'
team in the fall, for the training done in the winter and
the rowing done later develop new material, and strength-
en the older men.
THE PROPOSITION TO ORGANIZE a National Interseholastic
Athletic Association, modelled upon the Inter-collegiate
Association, made in these columns in the early part of
last spring, is looked upon favorably not only by the
schools and associations in this part of the country, but
also by the schools on the Pacific coast. In fact, the West-
erners have shown a much greater spirit of enterprise and
sportsmanship in the matter than have the managers of
scholastic athletic interests in the East. It is probable,
however, that the apparent stagnation in this quarter has
been due to the summer vacation, and the consequent ces-
sation of school sports, and the absence from town of those
who could take hold of the scheme and put it through.
Now that the fall term is about to open, this matter prom-
ises to be taken up with the energy required for such an
undertaking, and all we need is the hearty co-operation of
the many interscholastic associations from every State in
the Union. On October 8th there will be a meeting of the
New York I.S.A.A., and I am assured that at that meeting
the first steps towards the formation of the National Inter-
scholastic League will be taken.
STEPS HAVE ALREADY BEEN* TAKEN in California toward
joining the League as soon as it shall be started, and the
San Francisco newspapers are already talking of it as
though it were an accomplished fact. This is all due n>
those lively young sportsmen of the Oakland High-School,
who are not only eager to enter a general association, lint
are anxious to send a team of athletes to the l.crkeh-v ( Ival
to threaten the supremacy of the Eastern schools in track
THE CASCADILLA CREW AND BOAT-HOUSE.
969
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
and field sports. Here is what the San Francisco Cull of
September 4th says on the subject:
The Oakland High-School decided to-day that it would join the
National League of High-Schools, and send a team to New York
next year to join in the national High-School contests. The team
will consist of ten of the best athletes in the school, and the boys
anticipate being capable of holding their own and capturing some
of the trophies. They have received much encouragement from
the recent tour of the Berkeley team. The Oakland High-School
lias for some time been a member of the league of which HAR-
PER'S ROUND TABLE is the organ, and now that they have decided
to branch out and seek national honors, athletics will receive a
boom, as there is much rivalry as to who will ultimately be the
ones chosen to uphold the honor of Oakland's High-School in the
Empire State. A general meeting will be held in a few days, and
a manager will be elected who will at once put into practice all
the available material. After that the boys will commence to
obtain pledges for financial aid, as it will require about $1600 to
defray the expenses of the trip. The next national High-School
contests will be held in the summer; but entries are now being
made, and Oakland will not be dilatory in outlining the events
for which she will seek to carry off the honors. "The send-
ing East of our team will be one of the best things that ever
the High-School undertook," said one of the O.H.-S. athletes to-
day. "It will call attention to our school and to Oakland, and
will let thousands of people know that we exist who are in doubt
just now as to where Oakland is. We have been debating the
proposition of sending a team East all this year, but after we
saw what a lot of attention was shown to the Berkeley team we
could see no reason why we should not try a similar tour among
the crack Eastern High-Schools. We do not anticipate any
trouble in raising the necessary funds, as we think the noise we
shall make will prove a very valuable advertisement for this city."
A GOOD MANY OF THE STATEMENTS made by the Call
are inaccurate, but the main announcement, that theO.H.-S.
will come East, is authentic. It behooves the Eastern
sportsmen, therefore, to get ready to receive them. As I
have said befoie, the KOUND TABLE will do everything in
its power to further the organization of a National Asso-
ciation of the schools, and these columns are open to cor-
respondents who care to make suggestions for the advance-
ment of the scheme. Perhaps a better idea of what the
Califoruians have actually done, and will do, can be ob-
tained from this letter, which caiue to the ROUND TABLE
from the Captain of the O.H.-S. athletic team:
" The newspaper reports are not at all accurate, but they will
serve to show what we have been doing lately. While they do not
convey the exact truth, they have aroused great enthusiasm among
the Oakland people, and we have great hopes of taking an Eastern
tour. We are only awaiting the formation of the Big League
to go right to work, and we have a big job on hand. I suppose
that the Field Day will be held about the latter part of June, and
that the list o£ events will be made to coincide exactly with the
Inter-collegiate programme. If we came East we could doubtless
make arrangements for a series of dual games with three or four
of the crack schools in the vicinity of New York in addition
to [be Big Field Day. Of course this could all be arranged
later on ; what we are worried about now is getting started. I
wish you would prod the schools up and get them to take imme-
diate action. We want to get to work right away, for to raise
$3000 is quite a job. The U.C. boys are in favor of the trip, and
will help us in every way. I wish you would inform us of any
steps taken in this regard, ami also put us in touch with the offi-
cers, so we could correspond with them. Would it be necessary
to be the winning or champion team of our league to join in the
Field Day, or could the O.H.-S. alone join the League and uphold
the honor of California in the scholastic world in the East?"
It strikes me that the New York I.S.A.A. will lose an
opportunity that may never offer again if it fails now to
take the initiative in the formation and foundation of the
National Interscholastic Athletic Association of America.
LAWRENCKVILLE OPENED LAST THURSDAY, and the foot-
ball men went to work at once. Some of the old players
got back a week earlier, an. d saw to it that the eight fields
\\c-re put into shape, and laid out, and now every afternoon
one may see sixteen elevens hard at work rushing and
kicking and otherwise developing new material. This
system of requiring everybody to join in the game is an
excellent one. The boys at Lawreuceville are arranged
according to size, and are taught how to play, and thus it
is plain that in the course of a year or two the Captain of
the school team has plenty of good material to pick from.
The first and second teams have the additional advantage
of being coached by some of the instructors who were star
football players in their college days, and the benefit of
whose experience goes largely toward making the Law-
renceville eleven the successful one that it usually is.
LAST YEAR, FOR INSTANCE, Lawrencevillb defeated the
Hill School, 'j'J-0, the Yah1 Freshmen, 16—0, and Audover,
20-6, besides disposing of every other school team they met.
They tried to arrange a game with the Princeton 'Varsity,
but were not successful, for the reason, they believe, that
in 1803 they scored 4—8 on the orange and black champions.
Of course this is probably not the reason, for Princeton
should be only too glad to get such excellent practice even
from a school team, and this year no donbt there will be a
match, and another probably with the University of Penn-
sylvania.
A FEATURE OF THE FOOTBALL RECORD of this school,
which it is pleasing to be able to call attention to, is that
in the twelve years the game has been played there no
dispute has ever arisen and no serious accident has oc-
curred. Moreover, as far as I am able to ascertain, no boy.
ever went to the school because he could play football.
All this tends to create a genuine and healthy interest in
the sport, and not only the scholars themselves, but the
graduates of the school take pride in such a record. This
is shown by the fact that the Alumni have presented a
$300 cup for class championship contests, each winning
class getting its numeral engraved upon the trophy ; and
an alumnus has also ottered a cup to be played for by the
House teams, and to become the property of the House
winning the greatest number of times within ten years.
The boys live in Houses at Lawreuceville, as they do at
Rugby and Harrow, and each House has its eleven.
Or LAST YEAR'S FIRST SCHOOL TEAM five men return:
Emerson, full-back ; Dibble and Davis, half-backs; Cad-
walader and Edwards, guards. This is a first-rate nucleus,
and Dibble, the new Captain, is expected to bring forward
a team equal, if not superior, to that of last year. There
are few better half-backs in the schools than Dibble. He
is a great sprinter, having covered the 100 in 10 seconds
at the school games last June. Davis, the other half-back,
and Emerson, the full-back, will surely improve this fall
over their last year's style, while no better guards are ne-
cessary than Cadwalader and Edwards. They weigh 210
and 218 pounds respectively.
THE CANDIDATES FOR END RUSH are Noble and Rigbter,
and unless some new pheuonieuons develop, they will hold
the positions. The tackles will have to be taken from the
incoming classes, and the hardest position to till will be
quarter-back. Captain Dibble may well watch the pliiy
of the inau in this position, if he expects the team to be
engineered as well as De Saulles did it last year. De
Saulles is a wonderful quarter-back, and will no doubt
make the Yale 'Varsity in a year or so. A large number
of new Fourth Form boys, or SeTiiors, have been entered
this fall, and it will be strange if in a school of 350 enough
available material cannot be trained to bring the eleven
up to its usual standard of excellence.
THE TEAMS OF THE NEW ENGLAND LEAGUE are also in
the field, and in a few days practice games between schools
will begin. Boston Latin is scheduled to meet Charlestowu
High to-morrow, and English High meets Dorchester on the
same day. There is unusual promise of good new material
c\ ny where, and the championship matches ought toifur-
uish good football. Only three members of the Cambridge
Manual Training School's champion eleven are back this
fall, and the candidates for positions are mostly small, light-
men. Captain Murphy, however, has signified his intention
of t lying to make up for the probable lightness of his team
by perfecting it in team work.
970
HAEPEE'S EOUND TABLE
THE BOSTON LATIN- Srii.iur, \v;:s the first
to get its men into training, and has a start
of nearly a week over its rivals. Many of
last year's players have returned to school,
and most of tln'iu are heavy fellows. Lowe,
oue of the guards, is t,ho biggest man <it I he
aggregation, and weighs 210 pounds. Kadm
at centre vs'igli.s I'.H pounds, and his <>i her
guard, Xagle, tips the scales at 185. 'II:. se
tluvr have jilayecl together for B.L.S. for
the pas* three \. MIS, and are undoubtedly
the strongest ceutre in the League. The
cackle positions are open, and one of them
will probably be tilled !>.\ l.'.,iil<in. who was
a substitute last year. D. Lockiu, who
showed some of the liest end work of any
of the school players, is back in his old po-
sition.
CAPTAIX MAOUIKE WILL KEEP HIS OLD
place at full-back, and ought to manage to
develop a strong eleven. He is familiar with
the line points of the game, and has been a
member of the team for two years past.
Last year he proved himself oue of the clev-
erest ground-gainers in the League, and in
the game with English High bis punting
aided materially toward the securing of
victory. His tackling and interfering have
improved, and will doubtless grow better as
the season advances.
THE SHOWING MADE in the early work of
the English High -School players has not
been very encouraging thus far. Like the
C.M.T.S. men, the candidates are small, but
all of them are apparently hard workers.
It is fortunate for Captain Callahau that
there are not so very many positions to fill,
but on the other hand the vacancies occur
in places where strong and reliable players
are required. If things are allowed to run
along in the slipshod way that character-
ized E.H.-S.'s endeavors last year, however,
the team will be a poorer one than has rep-
resented the school for some time. Only
continuous and careful work can bring the
team into championship form.
THE TWO SCHOLASTIC REPRESENTATIVES
iii the A.A.U. championships at Manhattan
Field on the 141 h managed to hold their ends
up pretty well. Baltazzi took second to
Sweeney in the higli jump, with 5 feet lOi
inches, defeating Cosgrove, and Syrne got
first in the low hurdles. He ran his trial
heat in 26f seconds, but got the medal with
28J seconds. His victory was in some re-
spects a repetition of his success at Syra-
cuse in the Metropolitan championships.
There he met Sheldon and Chase, the latter
falling over the eighth hurdle. At Man-
hattan Field, Cosgrove led up to the ninth
hurdle in the trials, and then took a crop-
per, leaving Syrne to win the heat. In the
finals, Syme and Cady had it neck and neck
to this same ninth, when the scholastic run-
ner struck the timber so heavily as to break
it, but recovered in time to see Cady go som-
ersaulting over the tenth. Before the Vale
man could recover, Syme had breasted the
tape. THE GRADUATE.
of the large dry-goo, Is simps was found to
have been carrying what e\ervliody sup-
posed to be a baby; but what in realitj
turned out to be a huge doll with a was
face and hollow leathern body. It was the
.thief's custom to conceal the stolen articles
as quickly as she got her lingers on them,
gloves, laces, and so forth, in the cavernous
and spacious interior of the " baby."
SOME STKANGE VISITING-
CARDS.
CALLING in Corea must he a very dilli-
cult performance, if, as a London jour-
nal has recently stated, the ordinary visit-
ing-cards there are a foot square. The same
journal goes on to say that the savages of
Dahomey announce their visits to each oth-
er by a wooden board or the branch of a
tree artistically carved. This is sent on in
advance, and the visitor, on taking leave,
pockets his card, which probably serves him
for many years. The natives of Sumatra
also have a visiting-card, consisting of a
piece of wood about a foot long and decor-
ated with a hunch of straw and a knife.
A NEW USE FOR A DOLL.
ANEW use for a doll has been discovered
by an ingenious London thief. A wo-
man who was arrested for stealing from one
So.MK NOVEL RACES.
A LONDON newspaper some \ears ago
contained an account of a si range' -.ml
of contest which two noblemen on,, gol >i|,
for their own amusement. It consisted of
marching a tlock of turkeys and a lloi-U of
geese for a race on the I,, union and Nor-
wich road, in the middle of the last century.
The turkeys would insist upon (lying up
into the roadside trees to roost ; while the
geese, keeping up a steady waddle all night,
reached London from .Norwich two days
ahead. The same' journal also mentions the
feats of the Hon. Tom Coventry's ^priming
pig. In 1803 this speedy animal was mat, h, ,1
against a celebrated runner, and started a
strong favorite on the day of the rare. \\ hirh
she won with ease. The pig had been
trained to run the distance each day for its
dinner. Another strange contest of rhis
time took place be! ween I wo sporting noble-
men, who raced against cadi other on a
windy day on Hampslead Heath, one run-
ning backwards in jack-boots, and the other
holding up an open umbrella, and running
forwards.
Highest of all in Leavening Strength. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Baking
Powder
ABSOLUTELY PURE
Dress Goods
English and Scotch Mixed Suit-
ing's, French Boueles, Jaequards,
Crepons, Bourette and Tufted
Vigognes.
English Mohairs and Mohair and
Wool Mixtures.
Scotch Tartans and French
Plaids, English and French Diago-
nals in Cloth colors; Crepes, Cash-
meres, and novelties in Silk and
Wool fabrics for evening wear.
\
NEW YORK.
971
dmmrnt la fts
u
the best things in Prose and Poetry, always includ-
JtiCT- onrwl Slniiirt; aiiH T-Tvinn« J[ jg Surprising HOW
ins to be done in
m the small nu til-
ing good Songs and Hyuius. It is
little good work of this kind seen
the Schools, if one must judge from the small num-
ber of people who can repeat, without mistake or
omission, as many as Three good songs or hymns-
Sfetr, jSfjarp, Jbfimb,
and accurate Memory work is a most excellent
thing, whether in School or out of it, among all ages
and all classes. But let that which is so learnt -il be
worth learning and worth retaining. The Franklin
Square Song Collection presents a large number of
anh If tro
and Hymns, in great variety and very carefully
selected, comprising Sixteen Hundred in the Ei^ht
Numbers thus far issued, together with much
choice and profitable Reading Matter rel;it
Music and Musicians. In the complete and varied
of Gtmltnb.
which is sent free on application to the Publi^lu-rs.
there are found dozens of the best things in the
World, which are well worth committing to mem-
ory; and they who know most of such good things,
;nid Appreciate ;md enjoy them most ,tr<_ n.allv
among the best educated people in any country.
They have the best result of Education. Fu-
Contents, with sample pages of Music, cid'";
Harper & Brothers. Wew York.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Bicycle route.
Fair bicyc/e road
y Station.
poor road
•i/%c3rnra
BICYCLING
This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, :>nd the Editor will be pleased to
answer any question on the subject. Our maps and tours conutin mnch valuable data kindly
supplied from the official maps and road-books of the League ol American Wheelmen. Recog-
nizing the value of the work being di.ne by the L A. W., the Editor will be pleased to furuisa
subscribers with membership blanks and information so far as possible
T1HE THIRD STAGE of the trip from New York to Boston
by the shore road demands our attention this weeic.
It extends from Now Haven to New London, a distance of
forty-five miles or more, and though the rider can, if ho
desires, stop at Saybrook, thirty- three miles distant from
New Haven, it is wiser to make tlie run to New London in one
day, as the accommodations at New London are better,
and the next stage, from New London to Shanuuck, which
comes on the next day, is much lighter.
LEAVING NEW HAVEN and going eastward the rider
should keep always to the right on going into the suburbs
of the city, and continue to the south ot'Fair Haven through
East Haven. One and a half or two miles out of East
Haven the road crosses the railroad track, and then runs
on another mile into BranforU, whicli is eight miles from
New Haven. From Brauford the road is, in the main,
easily followed, the general tendency being to keep in the
vicinity of the railroad, and near the shore of Long Island
Sound. It is well for the rider, where possible, outside of
villages, to take the side path, as the road is not in the best
of condition in certain places, and the side path is usually
very good. From Bran ford to Stony Creek is a distance
of about three miles. Thence to Leetes Island, two miles
further, where the road is clear, there is little to be de-
scribed. There are almost no hills of importance, and the
side path usually offers a very good substitute for the road
itself when the latter becomes sandy.
FROM LEETES ISLAND to Guilford, about three miles
further on, the road winds about a good deal, crossing the
railroad track twice before entering Guilford in order to
make a detour to the north and cross a creek. After leav-
ing Guilford the road runs down close by the shore, and
keeps its position in passing East River and Madison.
Between Madison and Clinton, and between Clinton and
Grove Beach, a distance altogether of between h've and
six miles, the road is lair in general and very poor in spots.
The side path should be taken wherever available, but,
everything considered, it is not one of the best bicycle
roads that could be desired. From Grove Beach into Say-
brook, a distance of six miles, the rider passes through
West-brook, and the road does not alter its condition, being
in the main fair, but very sandy in spots.
IF POSSIBLE, THE RIDER should start from New Haven
early in the morning, and make Saybrook some time about
noon, stopping there for lunch or dinner. This is a dis-
tance of thirty -three miles altogether. To be sure, it only
leaves a run of thirteen or fourteen miles to New London,
but the accommodations there are so much better than
along the line that it is advisable to try and reach it, and
at the same time it is always well to do more than half
the journey in the morning. Leaving Saybrook the rider
should proceed, still on the turnpike, to the Connecticut
Ivivt-r bank at Lyme Ferry. Crossing by this he turns to
tlie right and runs into Lyme over a capital road. Thence
tin- road runs along over a reasonably ^ood bit of country
to the north of the railroad into South Lyme, live miles
further on, with the exception of a spot a mile or more be-
yond Black Haii, where the road crosses a creek and is poor
Copyright, 1S9S, by Harper A Brothers.
,n to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to N( ,,
Tjirrytown to Po'n^hkeept-ie in No. S17. PoaghktjepBie to Hudson in
No. 818. Hudson t.o Albany in No. 819 Toi l<-m ilie I" Trenton in 820.
IVnton 10 Philadelphia in 821. Philadelphia in No. 822. Philadelphia
\ViM-aliiclion Route in No. 823 Philadelphia In \Vi-M rhrster in No.
824. Philadelphia to Atlantic City— First St»(rr i" N" . sas ; Second
Stjige in No. 826 Philadelphia to Vinelund — First Stage in N» 327.
Second Staye in No. 828. New York to Boston— Second Stage in No. 829.
HAEPER'S ROUND TAliLE
riding for a short space. From South Lyme
to Niaiilic- is about three miles, and after
passing East Lyine, a short distance out of
Juan tic, the rider crosses a long bridge over
an inlet of the Sound. From this point,
keeping to the left just after crossing the
bridge, he runs through Jordanville into
Nc\v London, :iml may there put up at the
Crocker House in the middle of the town.
THERE ARE SEVERAL ALTERNATIVES over
the last part of the course. For example,
after crossing the Lyme Ferry and passing
through Lynic, instead of keeping to the
right it is possible for the rider to turn to
the left, and follow the secondary bicycle
route marked on the map, which, on the
whole, is neither as short nor as good rid-
ing as the other. The road passes through
Grauiteville and joins the turnpike - re. ;id
near Jordanville. In the case of a strong
head wind, especially if it is a little to the
southward of east, it will save a great deal
of time and labor for the rider to take this
more inland route. On the southern route,
after passing Niantic and East Lyme and
crossing Hie long bridge, the rider may turn
sharp to the right, follow the route, marked
on the map, crossing another inlet of the,
Sound, leaving Jordanville on the north, and
thence run on to the month of the Thames
River, where he can put up at the Pequot
House, a summer hotel, which will be a wel-
come place after such a ride.
r
STAMP'S,
This Department is conducted in the iutem
colU -tors, and the Editor will b* pleased to am
these subjects so fur as possible. Co rrespon dents should adtlrt
Stamp Department.
T
Duke of York is prepared to sell liis
highest bidder. Lord Rothschild has made
the most liberal otferthus tar, but he would
prefer to buy the rarest specimens only.
C. B. AnuKV.— U. S. stamps are printed on plates of
200 or 400 stamps divided iuto panes of 1UU stamps
each. A sheet, of 100 stamps as sold by the Post-Oflice
is one of these panes. Every plate bears a unmlier,
and this number is printed on the margin of each
pane. For instance, the current 2c. red is printed
from plates of 400 stamps which, alVr printing, is cut
into four sheets. I illustrate plate No. 112.
No. 112. N". 112.
No. 112. No. 112.
I know of no stamp chapter in Newark.
II. B. THAW.— The 12 sen 1875, Japan, is worth 70c.,
the 15 sen, same issue, 60c.
L, M. C.— Dealers quote two varieties of the halt-
dime of 1838, one at Utc., the other at 30c.
A. Wum-KMOKie. — No stamp was touud in your en-
velope when opened.
D. C. S— The stamps are Costa Eica revenues.
There are several varieties ot 0. S. Ic. Proprietary
worth from Ic. to lOc. each.
J. K. MOUI.AN.— The current Is. Great Britain pos-
tag'.'-'tainii is catalogued at 2c. if used. As there are
many thousand varieties of North, Central, and South
American stamps, I cannot quote values, but advise
you to buy a catalogue.
F.. H. MAUUKU.— The 81 values of U. S. poslage-
stauips are largely used to pay postage on packages
..i I'oiMis sent from the U. S. lo Europe. The "pink"
1861 is exiremi'ly raiv. It is a peculiar shade which
cannot be described in words.
H. L. WATBOM, Paris.— It is probably a fraud. The
only Jones Express known in America bears Wash-
ington's portrait, and is printed on pinls paper.
A. E. BARROW. — No coins enclosed. I cannot say
what, dealers will pay for stamps. That depend* on
snirrny, condition, and quantity. An unsevered pair
of any scarce stamp is always worth more than two
single stamps of the same kind. The Columbus and
1853 dollars can both be bought from dealers at a
slight .-idvance.
D. E. POUTKK — The coin is a Connecticut cent
dated 1187. IJealels catalogue it at 15c.
J. T. DKLANO. — What dealers payjfor coins we do
noi know. You can buy the 1832 half-dollar in good
condition for 75c., the 1853 quarter for S5c., the 1864
two-cent copper for lOc.
P. S BimvKi.i., Ju».— No premium on the shilling.
E. B. Tim'i'.— Dealers quote the 1857 and 1858 cents
at 5c. each, 1822 half-dollar at 75c., silver three-cent
pieces at lOc.
C. MARTIN. — Levant stamps are used for local pur-
poses, and tor prepayment of postage on letters to the
home countries.
PHLLATUS.
DON'T WORRY YOURSELF
and don't worry the b;iby: avoid both unpleasant con-
ditions by giving the child pure, digestible food.
Don't use solid preparations. Infant Health is a
valuable pamphlet for mothers. Send your address to
the New York Condensed Milk Company, N.Y.— (Adv.]
You Saa Them Everywhere
Walter Baker 4 Go. Lilted,
The Largest Manufacturers of
PURE, HIGH GRADE
COCOAS and CHOCOLATES
On this Continent, have roctivod
HIGHEST AWARDS
from the greet
Industrial and Food
EXPOSITIONS
\ IN EUROPE AND AMERICA.
Caution : J^P'Tmiuu™6,
of the labels and wrapper;* on our
Coods, consumer^ should make cure
that our place of manufacture,
'namely, Dorchester, .tl :«•».
u printed on each package.
SO.-D BY GROCERS EVERYWHERE.
WALTER BAKER & CO. LTD. DORCHESTER, MASS.
Any man
seeing a
Rugby
Watch
will wish himself a boy again.
Never before have such elegant watches
been made for the boys.
Boys, you are in it this year, suie.
Send for " Rugby " Catalogue, and
it will make you open your eyes.
The Waterbury Watch Co.,
202 Waterbury, Conn.
S lamps,
100 all dif. Venezuela. Bolivia. etc., only lOc,:
200 all dit. Hay ti, Hawaii, etc ,"lily Sl'i . A- ''-
w't'd at W per ct.com. ListFRBB! 0. A.
StefJriiiaiin,.F>y41Cote Briliante,Sl.Louis,Mo.
rrtrr 25 STAMPS. Japan, Mexico, Koumania, etc.,
rriLL for 2c. si amp; 100 all dif., lOc.; 8 Samoa, inc.
J. A. WILSON, 1108 Fairmount, Phila., Pa.
29 varieties of genuine, unused
stamps for fiO cents. C'atalnL-iie
value, $3.41. K. X. PAUKKK, Bethlehem, Ta.
25
var.foreign stJimpsanrl price-list Tie-- for?r. st;imj..
tXCKLSIOK STAMP CO., Keyport, X. J.
ST 4 M PS. Hi" lor 12c.; 40 U.S., 25c.; tio r-ulibish.
~_ 60S com. KEYSTONE STAMP CO., Lebanon, Pa.
Harper's Catalogue,
Thoroughly revised, classified, and in-
dexed, will be sent by mail to any ad-
dress on receipt of ten cents.
973
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Our Photographic Prize Competition.
The CameraC'lub Department of HARPER'S ROUND
TABLE is t,lie only one of the kind published regu-
larly in the interests aud for the help of the yuun^
amateur. It contains matter also for those more
advanced in the art of photography. Its aim is to
raise the standard of amateur photography amohg
young people, and to direct them how to make the
best use of their cameras.
To stimulate all to do their best, the ROUND TABLE
offers prizes for the best specimens of photograph-
ic work submitted by the members. Any ama-
teur may become a member of the Camera Club
by simply sending name and address to HAMPER'S
ROUND TABLE, and stating that you wish to become
a member. There are no fees or dues. Those
wishing to become members are asked to state in
their application whether they have or have not
passed their eighteenth birthday. Thuse under
eighteen are made members, aud those over eigh-
teen are made Patrons of the Round Table.
The following are our annual prize offer.-; \viru
renditions. Part of these are opeu to all amateurs
without regard to age.
PHOTOGRAPHIC PRIZE COMPETITION.
CLASS I.— HAUINKS.
First Prize $15
Second Prize 10
Entries iu this class will close October 15, 1895.
CLASS II.— I^NUSC..i'ES.
First Prize $15
Second Prize 10
Entries in this class will close November 15, 1895.
CLASS III. — FIGURE STUDIES.
First Prize $25
Second Priz 10
Entries in this class will close December 15, 1895.
RULES OF COMPETITION.
1, This competition is open to all Knights and
La-iie* who have not passed their eighteenth birth-
day.
2. All photographs offered must be the work of
the competitor from the exposure of the plate to
the mounting of the finished print.
u. No photographs must be sent which have taken
prizes or have been submitted for prizes iu other
competitions.
4. No picture less than 4 X 5 or larger than 8 X 10
must be sent.
u Any printing process may be used with the ex-
ception of blue prints.
(J. All pictures must be mounted, but not framed,
and the carriage prepaid.
7. Each picture must be marked with the name
and address of the sender, the class to which it be-
longs, and the statement whether or not the artist
has passed his or her eighteenth birthday. No
other writing is necessary. Any picture not thus
marked will be ruled out.
8. As the competition closes at different dates,
all entries for each class must be forwarded not
later than the date named uuder each class. The
packet must be marked on the outside " Harper's
Round Table Photographic Competition," in addi-
titui to the name and address of this journal.
OPEN TO ALL AMATEURS.
The following prizes are open to all amateurs,
without regard to age :
CLASS A.— LANDSCAPES.
First Prize $15
Second Prize 10
Entries in this class will close November 1, 1895.
CLASS B. — FIGUKE STUDT.
First Prize $25
Sect »nd Prize 10
Entries iu this class will close December 15, 1895.
RULES OF COMPETITION.
1, This companion is open to all amateur pho-
tographers, without regard to age limit.
The other rules governing This competition are
t.V- same as t Imse in the competition open for those
who have not, passed their eighteenth birthday.
Special attentiou is called to Rules 3 and 7.
JUDGING.
Each picnuv submitted in eirher competition
will be judged : 1 Originality ; ->. Artistic merits of
r'.iuiH'Mtion ; ;; Illustrative value; 4. Technical ex-
cellence of finish. The one having the highest per-
centage receiving the highest award in each class,
etc. Pictures which fail to take a prize, the per-
centage of which is over seventy, will receive hon-
orable mention.
Please pay special attentiou to the different dates
at which the classes close. This plan has been
adopted to simplify the work of handling the pic-
tures. Photographs which do not take prizes or
are not retained tor publication will be returned
to the senders at the close of the competition if
postage is enclosed.
Watch this column for hints in regard to finishing
pictures. Class No. 1, "Marines," closes first. Ama-
teurs living in waterports take notice.
Help for those Lovers of Figures.
Answers to the Turk aud Christian and Valet
problems published last week: I. Turk and Chris-
tian Puzzle. — In the Latin sentence and French
verse given, attention must be given to the vowels
o, e, i, 0, u contained in the syllables, letting a equal
one,e two, i three, 0 four, and u five. Begin by ar-
ranging four Christians together, because the vow-
el iu the first syllable is o ; then five Turks, because
the vowel in the second syllable is u, and so on to
the end. By proceeding in this manner, it will be
found, taking every ninth person circularly, begin-
ning at the first of the row, that the lot will fall en-
tirely on the Turks.
2. Valet Puzzle.— Two valets cross first, and one
of them, rowing back, carries over the third valet.
One of the three valets then returns with the boat,
aud, remaining, allows the two masters whose val-
ets have crossed to go over in the boat. One of
the masters then carries back his valet, and leav-
ing him on the bank, rows over the third master.
In the last place, the valet who crossed enters the
boat, and, returning twice, carries over the other
two valets.
A Famous Chess Problem.
This is a famous problem, aud several notable
chess-players of the old school have amused them-
selves with it:
To make the knight move into all the squares of the
chess-board in succession^ without passing twice over
the same.
Of the four solutions to the problem, Demoivre's
is the easiest to follow. I will furnish Montmort's,
Mairau's, or M. W 's solution to any member
so desiring, provided a stamp is sent for reply.
Following is Demoivre's solution :
34
49
22
11
36
39
24
1
21
10
35
50
S3
IT
37
40
48
33
63
57
38
25
a
13
9
20
51
54
._
60
41
2ii
32
47
58
61
IT
53
14
3
19
8
55
52
59
64
27
42
40
31
6
17
44
29
4
15
7
18
45
30
V
16
43
28
VINCKNT V. M. BEKDK, R. T. F.
17 WKBSTBB PLACB, EAST OUANGK, N. J.
Wants a Round Table Reunion.
Those of us who were in Boston during the week
of the Templars' Conclave will never forget the pa-
rade. Twenty-five thousand men, with the mot-
to, "Frateruicy," "Fidelity," "Charity," marched
from eleven o'clock iu °Uie morning to six in the
evening. The flying banners, emblematic signs,
playing bands, and general feeling of good-fellow-
ship all combined to make one wish that the Round
Table c<mM have Mime similar convenr.iou. We
have the same friendly feeling towards each other ;
we have emblems; we have Chapters ; and we have
a Imndreil thousand inemh'Ts.
\\~hat, could we not do in a three days' conven-
tion? We could hold our nil-round athletic cham-
pionship tournament for the gold medal ; we could
1174
have an exhibition of the Table's handicraft work ;
we could organize aud have a " Grand Master,"
as the Templars have ; aud think how it would
"boom" the membership aud promote good-fel-
lowship. I, for oue, am iu favor of holding a con-
vention this year iu New York, and several of my
correspondents hold the same ideas. If some one
with a " planning head " will '• take hold " and de-
velop my ideas I will be glad to hear from them.
]9 OiiAriGs STRKHT, WOHCKSTHR, MASS. M.D.O.
We print this morsel because it is full of praise-
worthy enthusiasm. We fear that our Order could
uot accomplish what an old fraternity is able to.
But what say all of you?
Answers to Kinks.
No. 102.
O
O N
OWN
OMEN
3
4.
5. O N
I O N
O B T A I N
OP I N I O N
OB T U S I O N
OB J E C T I ON
OC CUPATI ON
O S TEN T ATI ON
OB LITE HAT ION
No. 103.
Puleheria— 1. Peach. S. Munch. 3. Calid. 4.
Teach. 5. Porch. 6. Sleep. 7. Force. 8. Mitre.
9. Aster.
No. 104.
LANCE
B A
T I
S
T
P A C
C R E A
M I D
E T
R
I N
E R
T E D
No. 105.— THE SUPPER TABLE.
1. Coffee. 3. Buckwheat cakes. 3. Molasses.
4. Oysters. 5. Tongue. 6. Partridge. 7. Crack-
ers. 8. Butter. 9. Terrapin. 10 Radish. 11. Port.
12. Champagne, 13. Madeira. 14 Spirits. 15. Po-
tato. 16. Turkey. 17. Ham. 18. Jam. 19. Toast.
20. Fowl. 21. Sole. 22. Herring. 23. Steak. 24.
Croquette. 25- Quail. 26. Fig.
(Questions aut> Huswers.
It is not known, dear Sir Knight Latham, who
was the wearer of the Iron Mask. There are many
theories, but no positive knowledge. F.W.L.Buut-
iug, Abbott Street, Cairns, Queensland, Australia,
is a Knight who is fond of letter-writing, and a
stamp collector in for trading. He wants to hear
from you. Charles E Abbey, Chester, N. J., asks
if James Dixon, a former prize-wiuner in one or
two of our contests, will write him. He wants to
trade minerals and stones with anybody.
Edith Cliue, Lewisberry, Pa., wa.its to receive a
ribbon with your name, address and date. She
will send hers Edith F. Morris is now secretary
of the Durham Stamp Exchange. Her address is
213 Third Avenue, New York. J. Crispia Bebb is
informed that there has been no change in the
Table's colors. We regret yon can find no other
Knights in Seattle. Ask for some blank Patents
and give them to friends. Maybe when they read
on the last page of the Patent the advantages of
the Table they will consent to let you fill out a
Patent for them.
Fred G. Patterson, Markleton, Pa., had a live rat-
tlesnake which he was willing to sell to the highest
bidder, the proceeds to go to the School Fund. His
best bid at writing was $5. Wonder what he got,
and how the snake is doing in eaptivit.y by this
time? sir John II Campbell sends us the yells and
colors of Vanderbilt University at. Nashville, Tenn.:
" Vamlt-rhilt ! 'Rah. 'Rail. 'Rah! Whiz, Boom!
Zip. Boom ! 'Rah, 'Rah, 'Hah ! The colors are old-
gold aud black.
HAEPEE'S EOUND TABLE
TTbe Helping 1baut>.
I want, to make a suggestion bow the members
in this city can raise Borne money for the Fund. It
is tn (rive a "trolley party." I suppose you know
what a trolley party is. A party of young people
charter a car for the evening, and ride all over the
city and into the suburbs. The trolley party is a
craze iu this city at present. It is very common to
see strings of illuminated cars coming down the
streets iu twos, generally accompanied by a band
of music. It was not long ago I saw a large trolley
parly of sixty-five cars one after each other; This
party was for the benefit of the German Hospital,
and was a great success.
Don't you think a trolley party could be gotten
up iu this city if all the members were iu real sym-
pathy with the Order's work? I think we could
easily give a trolley party, say, some week in Octo-
ber. Mr. Putton has consented to help me, and we
want at least three more members iu this city aged
about sixteen years. The cost of a party varies
according to the distance and the electrical dec-
orations.
There are several fine routes. Germantown,
Chestnut, Hill, Angora, Darby, and Willow Grove.
The two last ones are preferable on account of the
length of the lines. The cost is about $16 per car,
decorated. We need at least three things for a
success financially— united action on the part of
the members, publicity, and a good nisiht
CHAULES C. CANFJELD.
FAIRUUUNT STATION, PHILADELPHIA, PA.
This is an admirable suggestion. Let us hear
from all Quaker City members who will go.
Origin of Three Common Things.
Some of our most common symbols have inter-
esting derivations. Take, for instance, the dollar
sign ($). which every one knows and loves— to a
more or less extent. Several explanations have
been given of its origin. The most probable is that
it is a modification of the figure 8, denoting the fa-
mous "piece of eight" of pirate lure, a Spanish
silver piece of the value of our dollar. Another
theory is that it represents the scroll and pillars
depicted on certain Spanish coins. Still another
makes us question whether it is not u monogram
of the letters "U.S." It has even been state. 1 that
this mark at one time appeared on the flag of Sara-
gossa, a city famous for its two months' siege by
the French in 1808.
The symbol B, standing for i-efi/ie— take- was ori-
ginally V.a. sign placed at the head of a medical
formula to propitiate Jove, that the compound
might act favorably. The character &, formerly
written 3. is a corruption of the Latin word et, the
letters being written as one.
Hunting Deer in California.
I wish you could see the picturesque spot where
we are spending tne summer. We are iu a deep
c.iniin. surrounded by the Santa Cruz Mountains,
all of -them over 2000 feet high. Llagas Creek,
which abounds in cataracts, runs through the ra-
vine. But the attractive feature of the place is
that deer abounds on the hill-sides. The season
opened on the 15th of July. At three o'clock on
that morning thirteen hunters, dressed in leggings
and corduroys, mounted their horses aud started
out, followed by a large pack of hounds, for the
deer haunts.
The leader of the party iu an hour's time had
reached a convenient spot and divided his men
into sets of two or three, stationing them iu cer-
tain spots where the deer, scented by the dogs,
would be likely to pass. Within three hours' time
we heard the crack of rifles, and then the blowing
of the horns brought us the joyful news that the
hunters had been successful. By eight o'clock the
party returned to tue house, one of them leading
on the back of a horse a fine buck weighing 100
pounds, exclusive of head and antlers. To-day we
have been feasting from some choice bits, aud feel
that though we did not do the shooting ourselves,
we were decidedly "in it.''
LLAG.S.CAL. GB1IALD1NE SCUPHAM.
IVORY SOAP
PURE
Have you noticed when discussing household affairs with other
ladies that each one has found some special use for Ivory Soap, usually
the cleansing of some article that it was supposed could not be safely
cleaned at home.
THE PROCTER ft GAMBLE Co., Om'Tl.
Oh, Boys and Girls,
AND ALL WHO ARE YOUNG AT HEART
IF NOT IN YEARS,
HERE IS FUN FOB YOU!
WATERLOO is novel and exciting! It
costs $1.25 ($1.50, express prepaid from
publishers). It is one of the famous
Parker Games
Our Illustrated Catalogue, including " Inno-
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"Napoleon," "Yankee Doodle," and 100
others, for two-cent stamp. " Brownies " and
" Wonderland," by mail, 35 cents each. Look
for the imprint
PARKER BROTHERS, Salem, Mass., U.S. A.
OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT <* the award
CILLOTT'S PE N Sat the CHICAGO EXPOSITION.
•"AiVAIJD: " For excellence of steel used in their
manufacture, it bein^ line irmined and elastic ; super-
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grinding which leaves the pe'ns free from defects. The
tempering is excellent and the action of the finished
pens perfect." (Signed) FRANZ VOGT,
( H. I. KIMBALL, IndividitalJudge
Approved:- Pres't D^xirtmental Committee.
(JOHN JiOYD THACHER. «
Chairman Exec, Com. on Awards.
unpin PERIODIC^.
Fer Year:
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tionti. Suln*crii>tionx *ent direct to the publishers should
be ac«nnt>ftui>'<i bit I'vst-u/ice Money Order or btafl.
H UiPEK & BHOTHEItS, Sew York, N. Y.
PUBLISHED TO-DAY:
Snow-shoes and Sledges
A Sequel to " The Fur-Seal's Tooth." By KIRK MUNROE.
Illustrated. Post Svo, Cloth, Ornamental.
Mr. Munroe long ago established himself as one of our ablest juvenile
writers, and this latest work from his pen is perhaps the best that he has pub-
lished. The story continues the adventures of two boys — Phil Ryder, a Xe\v-
Englander, and Serge Belcofsky, an Alaskan— from St. Michaels, in the northern
part of Alaska, through a 2ooo-mile trip witli dog sleds and snow-shoes up the
Yukon River and across the mountains to Sitka.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR:
THE FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH. — RAFTMATES. — CANOEMATES. — CAMI>M.\ 1 1.>.
DORYMATES. Each one volume. Illustrated. Post Svo, Cloth, >i 25.
WAKULLA.— THE FLAMIXI;<> FEATHER. — DERRICK STERLING.— Cum si. \i..
JACK & Co., and DELTA BIXBV : Two Stories.— Each one volume. Illustrated.
Square i6mo, Cloth, $1 oo.
HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York
'J75
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
GREEDY THOMAS.
BY KATHARINE P Y L E.
"No, Thomas, no," his good nurse said.
" ludeed, you should not take
At tea-time such a very I.'MLT
And plummy piece of cakt.-."
In vain it was for nurse to speak,
Young Thomas paid no heed;
The slice of cake, both plum aud crumb,
He ate with eager greed.
But, ah! that night, when all the house
Was wrapped in slumber deep,
Then Thomas had a dreadful dream,
For he was fust asleep.
He dreamed he was a plummy cake
Of most enormous size.
The icing was his nose and mouth,
And currants were his eyes.
He dreamed the door swung softly back,
The dream-man entered in;
Aud spectacles were on his nose,
And bristles on his chin.
He held a great knife in his hand,
And tiptoed to the bed.
*'Oh, pray don't cut! I'm not a cake,
I'm Tommy," Thomas said.
In vain to speak, for Thomas knew
He looked too brown and nice ;
He saw the dream-man lift his knife
As if to cut a slice,
And then — young Thomas shrieked and
woke,
And sat up straight in bed.
"Oh, dear! I'll never eat rich cake
Again at night," he said.
STORIES BY GRANDMA.
SOME TERRIBLE ADVENTURES WITH WOLVES.
RANDMA," said Ralph, " what do you suppose Uucle
yJT Henry said f"
"Well," answered grandma, " it wouldn't surprise me if
lie said it was a cold day, or — :
"No; I mean what do you suppose he told me; what
kind of a story?"
"Oh, dear! your uncle Henry is such a hand to tell
stories that I could hardly guess. About animals, I sup-
pose, though, aud nothing smaller than elephants, I'll war-
rant."
"No; wolves. They chased him onee. Got away by
climbing a tree and pulling the tree up after him."
" Dear me ! what an extraordinary occurrence !'" exclaim-
ed grandma.
" Hut do you believe it, grandma .'" asked Ralph.
"Oh no; certainly not. I uever believe any of your
uncle Henry's animal stories."
•• Well," said Ralph, slowly, " I've been a little afraid of
some of them myself, lie. couldn't pull up a tree he was in,
could he, grandma?"
"I don't believe he could, unless he pulled pretty hard.
I remember my uncle Henry used to tell a wolf story when
I was a little girl. He said that one
day, when he lived in Vermont, two
wolves came after him, and he ran as
fast as he could. Hy-and-by he be-
gan to get tired. Just then he came
to a big rock, half as big as a house,
and leaped upon it. The wolves were
close behind, and so furious that they
were almost or quite blind. One
rushed around the rock one way, and
the other the other way. They met
on the farther side, and each thought
he had caught Uncle Henry, and they
began to tight like cats and dogs.
Pretty soon they stopped to rest, and
saw their mistake, aud Uncle Henry
said he never saw two wolves look so
disgusted."
" Do you believe that story ?" asked
Ralph. '
" Well," answered grandma, " it
does seem to have its hard points. I
think he may have stretched it a
little."
"Tell me a true wolf story, grand-
ma," pleaded Ralph.
" I'm afraid I don't know any more
wolf stories — except, the one about
Little Red Riding-hood. Once on a
time —
" Oh, I've heard that, grandma. Tell
uie another about your uncle Henry."
" Well, another time, when Uncle
Henry was living in Vermont a long
time ago, two wolves came and sat
down on his door-step. His house was
a little log cabin with only one door.
It was a very cold winter, with deep
snow, so there wasn't much for wolves
to eat. These two wolves were pretty
hungry, and they thought that they
would wait ou the door-step till Uncle
Henry came out, and just eat him for
dinner, and perhaps stir around and
get the stage -driver for supper, aud
depend on luck for breakfast the
next morning.
" Uucle Henry happened to look out
of the window and saw the two
wolves sitting on the door-step ; so he
just staid in and said uotbiug. He
staid in and kept on saying nothing
for two whole days, and still those
wolves sat there and waited for dinner to serve itself.
They were friendly for a longtime, aud sat facing each other,
discussing the weather aud other things, I suppose ; but
after a while, when they began to get pretty hungry, they
had a little tiff, and turned their backs ou each other.
Then Uncle Henry took a clothes-pin, reached through the
crack under the door, and slipped it ou their tails where
they crossed just as cool as if he had been pinning a wet
stocking on a clothes-line. It held their tails together like
a vise. 'Stop pinching my tail,' said one wolf. 'You — '
" Now, grandma!'' broke in Ralph, reprovingly.
"I'm telling this story just as Uncle Henry told it to me
when 1 was a little girl. I don't suppose he meant that
the wolf really said that out loud, but thoni/lit it, and lookid
it. 'Let go my tail,' said one wolf; and he scowled over
bis shoulder at the other. 'Quit pinching my tail,' said the
other; and lie looked over liis shoulder and scowled.
Then they sprang at each other, and began to tight as
bard as they knew how. Uucle Henry said he never
heard such a noise iu his life. But after a. while it be-
came all still, and he went out ; but he couldn't find any-
thing except a little wolf fur floating about in the air, aud
the clothes -pin; so lie concluded that they had either
fought each other completely out of existence, or got, tired
out and gone oft'. H. C.
976
HARPERS
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, by HAHPKB A BBOTHHRS. All Rights Reserved,
PUBLISHED WEKKL.Y.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 831.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 1. 1895.
K1VE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YEAH.
SEA RANGERS.
BY KIRK M UN ROE,
AUTHOR OF "ROAD RANGERS," THE "MATE" SERIES, " FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH," " SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES," ETC.
CHAPTER I.
EARNING THEIR BICYCLES.
" T SAY, Hal, do you realize that the Ready Rangers will
J. have been in existence a whole year on the 30th f"
asked Will Rogers, as he and Hal Bacon walked homeward
from school one aftemoou of the May following the Ran-
gers' memorable trip to New York. I remember the exact
date, because it was Decoration day, aud the first time I was
out after my accident."
"That's so," replied Lieutenant Hal, "and I think we
ought to do something in the way of a celebration."
"My idea exactly; and at the meeting to-night I want
to talk it over. So bring along any suggestions you can
pick up, and let's see what cau be done."
Never had the Berks boys, who were also Rangers, worked
so hard as during the winter just passed. In spite of the
allurements of skating, coasting, and all tin- other fasci-
nating winter sports of country life, they had never lost
sight of the coveted bicycles that TUMI Burgess's father had
promised to let them have at much less than cost, if only
they could earn the money to pay for them. At tlie sug-
gestion of Reddy Cnddeback, their ne\\ est member, of whom
they were intensely proud, because he lield the live-mile
racing record of the United Slates, they had decide. ] in
make a common fund of all their earnings, and place it in
the hands of honorary member Pop Miller I'm- sate keeping.
They did this, because, while it was necessary to the suc-
cess of their organization that every member .should o« i a
bicycle, some of them were possessed ot'greater advantages
or abilities for earning money than others. AUo ilmse
who already owned machines, and so were not obliged to
earn them, could still work with enthusiasm for the fund.
Besides these reasons the Kangers proposed to raise some
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
of the money by giving entertainments, the proceeds from
which would necessarily go into a common fund.
So, while several of tlie boys under direction of "Crack-
er" Bob Joues, who had a great head for business, gathered
nuts in the an I mini for shipment to New York, caught fish
through the ice during the winter, and sold them in the
village, and made maple sugar, to order, iu the earl}' spring.
others split wood or did similar chores for neighbors. Will
Rogers and Hal Bacon organized a mail-and-package de-
livery service. Beth Barlow, working ou behalf of her
brother, the naval cadet member, made the caramels and
pop-corn balls that little C'al Moody sold to his school-
mates at recess, while Reddy Cuddeback, who proved to be
possessed of decided dramatic talent, arranged and man-
aged the several entertainments given by the Rangers dur-
ing the winter.
One of these was a minstrel show, the first ever seen iu
Berks. Another was a Good Roads talk, given by a dis-
tinguished highway engineer, and illustrated by stereopti-
coii views, while the third, which was the crowning suc-
cess of the season, was a play written by Will Rogers and
Beth Barlow. It was called Jilue Billows — a title cribbed
from liaftmates — or, Fiijlitimj for the Old Flag : a nautical
drama in two watches, founded on facts more thrilling
than fiction. This play was suggested by the story of
Reddy Cuddeback's father, as told by Admiral Marliu to
his Road-Ranger guests the summer before, and in order
that it should present a realistic picture of naval life, its
leading scenes and all of its conversation were iu closest
imitation of Pinafore, which the Rangers had been taken
to see iu New York, and which was their chief source of
knowledge concerning life ou the ocean' wave. So they
had a Little Buttercup, only she was called Pink Clover,
a rnidshipmite represented by little Cal Moody, a Jack
Jackstraw, a Bill Bullseye, and a close imitation of Sir Jo-
seph Porter, named Sir Birch Beer. They sang sea-songs,
danced what they believed to be hornpipes, hitched their
white duck trousers, shivered their timbers, and were al-
together so salt and tarry, that had not the dazzled spec-
tators known better they might have believed the Rangers
to be regular oakuui-pickers who had never trod dry land
in their lives. So well was this performance received in
Berks that the boys were iuduced to repeat it iu Chester,
w hereby they added a very tidy sum to their fund.
This was their final eti'ort at money-making, for about
this time a letter was received, from Mr. Burgess stating
that he found it necessary to dispose of his stock of bicy-
cles at once, and asking if the Rangers were not ready to
relieve him of them. So the meeting called by Captain
Will Rogers, to be held in Range Hall, as the boys term-
ed Pop Miller's house, was for the purpose of learning
the amount of the fund and deciding upon its disposal.
The speculations as to its si/.e, and what it would purchase,
Avere as numerous as there were members, and as diverse
as were the characters of the boys. Little. Cal JI ly
hoped it might reach the magnificent, sum of one hundred
dollars ; while " Cracker" Bob Jones thought one thousand
dollars would more nearly represent the amount obtained.
"That's what we've got to have," he argued, "for there
are ten members without wheels, not counting what I owe
Reddy Cuddcback on mine, and 1 dou't believe eveu Mr.
Burgess can afford to sell such beauties as those we rode
last fall for less than a hundred apiece. So there you are ;
and if we haven't got a thousand dollars, some of us will
have to go without wheels, or else only own 'em ou shares."
This statement from so eminent an authority caused
considerable uueasiuess among the other boys, and they
almost held their breath with anxiety as Mr. Pop Miller
wiped his spectacles, and, producing a small blue bank-
book, prepared to make the important announcement.
"Mr. President and fellow-members of the most honora-
ble body of Ready Rangers," began the little old gentle-
man, beaming upon the expectant faces about him. "It
is with gratified pride and sincere pleasure that I contem-
plate the wonderful success now crowning your tireless
efforts of the past winter. I must confess that both your
perseverance and the result accomplished have exceeded
luy expectations, and 1 congratulate you accordingly. As
treasurer of the Rangers' bicycle fund, I have the honor
to announce that, with all expenses for entertainments, etc.,
deducted, there is now on deposit in the First National
Bank of Berks, and subject to your order, the very credita-
ble sum of three hundred and eighty-five dollars and twelve
cents. All of which is respectfully submitted by
" P. MILLEH, Treasurer."
•• Hooray !" shouted little Cal Moody, forgetting his sur-
roundings in the excitement of what he regarded as the
vastness of this sum. As no one else echoed his shout, he
blushed, looked very sheepish, and wished he had kept his
month shut.
The Rangers had done well, remarkably well, as any one
must acknowledge who has tried to raise money under
similar conditions; but in view of "Cracker" Bob's re-
cent statement, most of them felt that their grea.t under-
taking had resulted in what was almost equivalent to fail-
ure, and were correspondingly cast down.
"It is too bad!" exclaimed Sam Ray, breaking a gloomy
silence. "Of course we've got to pay the thirty-five dol-
lars that Bob still owes Reddy, for that, is promised, and,
besides, I'm certain that 'Cracker' has earned more than
that amount himself. After that is done, though, we shall
have only three hundred and fifty dollars left, which isn't
more than enough to purchase three and a half or four
machines at Hie most, and that will leave six of us with
nothing to show for our winter's work."
" I move," said Mif Bowers, who having been a performer
in Blue Billows, was fully persuaded that he was cut out
for a sailor, "that we don't buy wheels at all, but put our
money into a yacht, and go on a cruise down the Sound
this summer."
"Second the motion!" cried Alec Crnger, who, having
acted the part of Bill Bnllseye, was equally auxious to put
his recently acquired nautical knowledge to practical use.
"The motion is not in order," announced Will Rogers,
firmly. "This money was raised for an especial purpose;
and, whether it is much or little, it must be devoted to
that purpose."
" That's so," agreed Sam Ray, who wanted a bicycle more
than anything else in the world, "and I move that the
money be sent to Mr. Burgess, with the request that he
return just as many wheels as it will buy. We can take
turns at riding them, and work all through long vacation
for money to get the rest."
"Second the motion!" cried Si Carew.
"All in favor of Sam Ray's motion say 'aye.'"
••A\e!" responded half a dozen voices, though not very
enthusiastically, for most of the boys were greatly disap-
pointed, and did not relish the prospect of several months
more of hard work for an object they had believed already
attained. Still no one voted against the motion, and so it
was pronounced carried.
"If we had got the machines I was going to suggest a
grand parade in celebration of our birthday," said Hal
Bacon, after the meeting had broken up; " but now I sup-
pose it's no use."
So the three hundred and fifty dollars was forwarded to
Mr. Burgess, together with a note from the Captain of the
Rangers, stating all the circumstances, and hoping that the
owuer of the coveted wheels would sell just as many for the
sum enclosed as he could possibly afford.
'An answer to this momentous communication was
awaited with such deep anxiety, that during the next few
days the Rangers fairly haunted the railway station as
though expecting to see their longed-for bicycles come roll-
ing, of their own accord, up the track.
CHAPTER II.
A NOTABLE A1SMVAL IN HEHKS.
" Hi-no ! Hi-ho !" The well-known call of the Rangers
summoning them to immediate assembly at the engine-
house rang out clear and shrill up and down the quiet vil-
lage street. It was early morning, the sun was just rising,
and though there was already much activity in kitchen
and barn-yard, the long elm-shaded and grass-bordered
thoroughfare was almost as deserted as at midnight. Still
97S
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
thru- \v:is one team iu sight, and one boy. The former was
that belonging to Squire Bacou ; and, driven by Evert
Banns, it was coining from the direction of the railway sta-
tion, where it had been to deliver, fur the. early morning
Ira. n, the very last russet apples that would be shipped
from BerUs that year. The hoy was little Cal Moody, « ,.
was eanihig tweuty-five cents a week towards his bicycle
by driving a neighbor's co\v to and from pasture every
morning and evening. He had just completed his task for
that morning, and was on his way home when he noticed
the approaching team.
It does not take much to arouse curiosity iu a quiet little
place like Berks, and the boy's attention was instantly at-
tracted to the fact that Squire Bacou's wagon bore a very
queer-looking load. As it passed through occasional level
shafts of sunlight that were darting between the trees it
seemed to be full of Hashes and bright gleamings. What
could it be? Cal stopped to rind out.
The nearer it approached the more he was puzzled, ajid it
was not until the learn was actually passing him, when the
good-natured driver sang out : " Here they are, Cal! Came
at last on the night freight, and I thought I might as well
bring 'em along up," that the mystery was solved.
With a g-reat tingling wave of joyful excitemeut sweep-
ing over him. Cal Une\v that Squire Bacon's wagon held a
load of bicycles in crates, and that they were being taken
to the engine-house on the village green. He tried to give
a shout of delight, but at first could only gasp without ut-
teriug a souud. Theu, as he recovered his voice, the Ran-
ger rallying cry of "Hi-ho! Hi-ho!" rang shrilly out on
the morning air with a distinctness that instantly roused
the sleepy village into full activity. The meaning of the
cry was well understood by this time, and believing that it
now indicated the breaking out of a fire, every one within
hearing instantly repeated it, at the same time running
toward the place whence it first issued. So within two
minutes the exciting cry was sounding from end to end of
the village, and even far beyond its limits. Sam Ray heard
it in the new- house up on the hill, aud Reddy Cuddeback
heard it in the mill settlement down by the river. Will
Rogers heard it while he was dressing, aud rushed out with-
out stopping to complete his toilet. Thus the echoes of
Cal's first summons had hardly died away before every
Ranger iu the village was tearing up or down the long
street toward the engine-house, aud yelling at the top of
his voice.
The first to arrive got there even ahead of Evert Bangs,
and were already running out the natty little red-and-gold
engine as he drove up.
"Hold on!" he shouted. "I ruther guess your engine
won't be wanted just yet. Seems to rue you boys get het
up terrible easy. No, your 'Hi-ho!' don't mean fire this
time, nor nothing like it. What it means is bicycles, and
here they be. I was calculating to have 'em all unloaded
before any of you fellers showed up, as a sort of surprise,
yon understand; but seeing as you're on hand, 1 guess
you'd better help."
Better help! Wouldn't they, though ? and weren't they
just glad of the chance? So many aud so eager were the
hands upraised to grasp the precious crates, that, even
while some of the later arrivals were still asking, " where
was the tire?" the last one was lifted out, carried into the
engine-house, aud there carefully deposited.
" How many are there ?" asked •• Cracker " Bob Jones,
anxiously, as Evert Bangs drove off with his empty wagon,
and the engine-house doors were closed to all except Ran-
gers.
" I don't know," replied Will Rogers. '' Let's count
them."
As all began to count aloud at the same moment, it is
not surprising that several different results were announced.
'• Fifteen !" shouted Si Carew. "Eight!" called little Cal
Moody.
"Oh, pshaw!" laughed Will Rogers. "You fellows are
so excited that I don't believe any one of you could say his
A B C's straight through. Keep quiet for a moment aud
let me count them. One, two. three, four, ti — There! I
believe I've missed one already. One, two, three —
" Here's a letter for you, Will," shouted Hal Bacou, who
had been to the post-oMiec, and came running breathlessly
in at that moment. -What's all this 1 hear abnnl bi-
cycles? Oh, my eye! What a lot! How did they get
^'Just wheeled themselves up from New York," laugh..!
Will, at the same time tearing open his letter, which was
postmarked at that city. After a hasty glance at Us eon-
tents, he called for sileuce, aud read the following :
William Rogers, &q.. Captain JJ, ,•/,•« }.'<„,/,, Rangers;
DEAK SIR,— Your favor of Huh iust. with check for three hun-
dred and fifty dollars enclo.-ed, is .it hand, and contents noted.
As per request I forward by freight, charges prepaid, three hun-
dred and fifty dollars' worth of bicycles, or ten (10) in all.
I urn greatly pleased at the energy and perseverance shown by
the Rangers in earning this sum of money, which I may as well
admit is larger than I believed they would raise, and I congratu-
late them most heartily upon their success.
Tom does not expect to spend this su icr in Berks, but is
making arrangements for a most delightful outing el.-ewhere. Iu
it he hopes his fellow Rangers will be able to join him. It is no-
thing more nor less than a — But I must not anticipate, 1101
him of the pleasure of telling you his plans himself.
With best wishes for the ( tinned prosperity and happiness of
the Ready Rangers, I remain,
Sincerely their friend,
Ij. A. BURGESS.
"Ten bicycles for three hundred and tii'ty dollars !'' cried
••Cracker" Bob Jones. "And all of "em first-class, A No. 1
machines. That beats anything I ever heard of. If Mr.
Burgess has got any more to sell at the same price I'd like
to take them off his hands, that's all."
"But he hasn't," declared Will Rogers. "Don't you re-
member that ten was the exact number he happened to
have?"
"And it's the exact number that happens to make just
one apiece for us," commented Abe Cruger. " Seems to me
that's about as big a piece of luck as I ever ran across."
"If it is luck," added Hal Bacon, shrewdly.
"Let's opeu 'em right away," cried Cal Moody, jumping
up and down in his excitement. " It doesn't seem as if I
could wait another minute."
" Yes. Let's open 'em I" shouted half a dozen voices.
" Hold on," commanded Will Rogers. " We haven't time
to open all the crates aud put the machines together
now. Besides, Pop Miller isn't here, uor lots of people
who have helped us get these bicycles, and who would
be awfully interested iu seeing them opened. So I propose
that we leave them just as they are uutil after school, and
then hold what you might call an opening reception."
Although the Rangers agreed to this proposition, it was
with reluctance; and that their thoughts remained with
those precious crates all day was shown in more ways than
one. In school, for instance, when little Cal Moody \\as
asked to spell and define the word biennial, he promptly
replied, with " Bi — Tii, cy — cy, cle — cle — bicycle — a machine
having two wheels;" aud when "Cracker" Boh Jones was
requested to favor the arithmetic class with an example in
percentage he complied, by stating, "that if teu bicycle.-.
listed at |125 each, could be bought for i-:'..">ii. and sold at
their listed price, the percentage of profit would be — :
Just here he was interrupted by a shout of laughter, in
which even the teacher, who thoroughly understood and
sympathized with the situation, was forced to join.
\Vheu the hour for the opening of the crates at length
arrived, half the village was there to see, and when the
teu glittering bicycles, each of which bore a small silver
plate inscribed with the name of its new ow ncr.werc finally
put together and displayed to the ail miring public of Berks,
there were no happier nor prouder boys in the I'nited
States than the young Rangers who had earned them.
From that time on, they rode, their bicycles during e\ n \
leisure moment, and on the !>iMh of May they celebrated
their birthday by giving an exhibition parade as In
fire scouts, that was pronounced the \ei\ line-t thing of
its kind ever seen in that section of country. In ihis
parade each machine carried a tire bucket, and n hile 8
also bore axes, others were equipped with the i
979
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
that Will Rogers and Sam Ray had used so effectively, a
fire-net, blankets, spades, and other articles to be used in
an emergency.
Tbe Chester Wheel Club came over to join in the parade,
and with them came the bicycle-supply man, who was so
impressed with the fact that ISerUs was becoming a bicy-
cling centre that he at once established a branch of his
business there, and appointed Pop Miller his agent.
Best of all was a visit from Tom Burgess, who came on
from New York, not only to take part in the parade, but to
unfold the gorgeous plan he had evolved for the summer
vacation, and in which he wished his fellow Rangers to
join. He first confided it privately to Will Rogers, and
when he concluded, the latter exclaimed :
" Tom Burgess, it seems almost too good to be true, but
with the experience we've already gained in Blue Billotrs
1 believe we can carry it through. If we only can, it will
be the biggest thing tbe Rangers have undertaken yet."
[TO BE CONTINUKD.]
GREAT MEN'S SONS.
BY ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS.
THE SOX OF SHAKESPEARE.
MANY years ago had yon been, let us say, a tinker trav-
elling with your wares or a knight riding by, yon
might have passed, upon a small arched bridge that spanned
a little river in the heart of" Merrie England," a small boy,
hanging over the railing, now watching the rippling water,
or with eager eyes looking along the roadway that ran
between green meadows toward that distant London, from
which, perhaps, you were tramping or riding.
I think, as you passed, you would have looked twice at
that small boy on the bridge, whether you were low-down
tinker or high-born knight. For he was a bright, sweet-
faced little ten-year-old in his quaint sixteenth-century
costume, and the look of expectancy in his eyes might, as it
fell upon your face, have shaped itself into the spoken ques-
tion, " Have you seen my father as yon came along ?"
Whereupon, had you been the lordly knight you might
bave said, " And who might your father be, little one ?" Or
had you been the low-down tramping tinker you would
probably have grunted out: "Hoi, zurs! An' who be'est
yure feythur.lad?"
To either of which questions that small boy on the bridge
would have answered in some surprise — for he supposed
that, surely, all men knew his father — " Why, Master Wil-
liam Shakespeare, the player in London."
For that little river is the Avon; that small bridge of
arches is Clopton's mill-bridge, that small boy is Haumet,
the only son of Master William Shakespeare, of Henley
Street, in Stratford-on-Avon. And in the year 1595 the
name of William Shakespeare was already known in Lon-
don as one of the Lord Chamberlain's company of actors,
and a writer of masterly poems and plays.
Perhaps if you were the tinker, you might be tired enough
with your tramping to throw off your pack, and, sitting upon
it, to talk with the little lad; or, if you were the knight, it
might please your worship to breathe your horse upon the
bridge and hold a moment's converse with the child.
Were you tinker or knight the time would not be mis-
spent, for you would find young Hamuet Shakespeare most
entertaining.
He would tell you of his twin sister Judith — something
of a " tomboy," 1 fear, but a pretty and lovable little girl,
nevertheless. And as Hamnet told you about Judith, you
would remember — no, you would not, though, for neither
tinker nor knight nor any other Englishman of 1595 knew
what we do to-day of Shakespeare's plays; but if you
should happen to have a dream of the little fellow now,
you might remember that Shakespeare's twins must have
been often in the great writer's mind ; for they stole into
his work repeatedly in such shapes as tha.t charming bro-
ther and sister of his Twelfth High (—Sebastian and Viola —
"An apple cleft in two is not more tnin
Than these two creatures,"
or the twin brothers Autipholus of Ephesus and Syracuse,
and those very, very funny twin brothers of the I'omrdi/ of
Errors, forever famous as the Two Dromios.
And if young Hamnet told you of his sister he would tell
you, doubtless, of his grandfather who was once the bailiff
or head man of Stratford town, and who lived with them
in the little house in Henley Street; and especially would
he tell you of his own dear father, Master William Shake-
speare, who wrote poems and plays, and had even acted, at
the last Christmas-time, before her Majesty the Queen in
her palace at Greenwich. For you may be sure boy Ham-
net was very proud of this — thinking more of it, no doubt,
than of all the poems and plays his father had written.
Then, perhaps, you could lead the boy to tell you about
himself. He might tell you how he liked his school — if he
did like it; for perhaps, like his father's schoolboy, he did
sometimes go >
" with his satchel
And sinning morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school."
He would, however, be more interested to tell yon that
he went to school in the chape) of the Holy Cross, because
the old school-house next door, to which his father had
gone as a boy, was being repaired that year, and he liked
going to school in the chapel because it gave hiui more
holidays.
Ah, he would tell you, he did enjoy those holidays. For
the little house in Henley Street was a bit crowded, and he
liked to be out of doors, being, I suspect, rather a boy of
the woods and the fields than of the Horn-Book, the Queen's
Grammar, and Cato's Maxims. He and Judith had jolly
times abroad, for Judith was a good comrade, and really
had it easier than he did — so he would tell you — for .Judith
never went to school. In fact, to her dying day, Judith
Shakespeare — think of that, \ on Shakespeare scholars ! — a
daughter of the greatest man in English literature could
neither read nor write!
So the Shakespeare twins would roam the fields, and
knew, blindfold, all that bright country-side about beau-
tiful Stratford. Their father was a great lover of nature.
You know that from reading his plays, and his twins took
after him in this. Young Hamnet Shakespeare loved to
hang over Clopton Bridge, as we found him to-day, watch-
ing the rippling Avon as it wound through the Stratford
meadows and past the little town. He knew all the turns
and twists of that storied river with which his great fa-
ther's name is now so closely linked. He knew where to
find and how to catch the perch and pike that swam be-
neath its surface. He and Judith had punted on it above
and below Cloptou Bridge, and on many a warm summer
day he had stripped for a swim in its cooling water.
He knew Stratford from the Guild Pits to the Worcester
road, and from the Salmon Tail to the Cross-on-the-Hill.
He could tell you how big a jump it was across the stream-
let in front of the Bother Market, and how much higher the
roof of the Bell was than of the Wool-Shop, next door — for
he had climbed them both.
He knew where, in Stratford meadows, the violets grew
thickest and bluest in the spring, where the tall cowslips
fairly " smothered" the fields, as the boys and girls of Strat-
ford affirmed, and where, in the wood by the weir-brakes
just below the town the fairies sometimes came from the
Long Couipton quarries to dance and sing on a midsummer
night.
He had time and time again wandered along the Avon
from Luddington to Charlecote. He had been many a time
to his mother's home cottage at Shottery, and to his grand-
father's orchards at Snitterfield for leather-coats and \\ar-
deus. He knew how to snare rabbits and " conies " in
Ilmiugtou woods, and he had learned how to tell, by their
horns, the age of the deer in Charlecote Park — descendants,
perhaps, of that very deer because of which his father once
got into trouble with testy old Sir Thomas Lucy, the lord
of Charlecote Manor.
The birds were his pets and playfellows. And what
quantities there were all about Stratford town ! Hamnet
980
r
"HAVE YOU SEEN MY FATHER AS YOU CAME ALONG?"
knew their ways and their traditions. He could tell you
why the lark was hanged for treason; how the swan cele-
lirated its own death; how the wren came to be king of
the birds; and how the cuckoo swallowed its stepfather.
He could tell you where the nightingale and the lark sani;
their sweetest " tirra-lirra" in the weir-brake below Strat-
ford Church, and just how many thievish jackdaws made
their iiests in Stratford spire. He could show you the very
fallow in which he had caught a baby lapwing scudding
away with its shell on its head, and in just what field the
crow-boys had rigged up the best kind of a " manuuet" or
scarecrow to frighten the hungry birds.
So. you see, little Haimiet Shakespeare could keep you in-
terested with his talk until it was time — if you were the
tramping tinker — to toss once more your heavy pack on
your shoulders, or, if you were lordly knight, to cry "get
on "to your now rested horse. And by this time you would
have discovered that here was a boy who, with eyes to see
and ears to hear all the sights and sounds of that beautiful
country about Stratford and along the Avon's banks, had
learned to find, as his father, later on, described it :
"tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything."
A clatter of hoofs rings upon the London highway. The
boy springs to his feet ; he scarcely waits to give you his
hasty good-day, but with a hop, skip, and jump, flies across
the bridge and along the road. And, as he is lifted to the
saddle by the well-built, handsome man with scarlet doub-
let, loose riding -cloak, white ruft", auburn hair and beard,
who sits his horse so well, you know that father and sou
are riding home together, and that there will be joy in the
little house in Henley Street. For Master William Shake-
speare, the London player, has come from town to spend a
day at home in the Stratford village he loved so dearly.
Perhaps, two or three years later, you may be led again
to tramp or ride through Stratford town. As you loiter
awhile at the Bear Tavern, near the Clopton Bridge, you
recognize the arches and the pleasant river that Hows be-
iieath them, and then you remember the little boy with
whom you talked on the bridge.
To your inquiries the landlord of the Bear says, with a
sigh aud a shake of the head,
"A gentle lad, sir, and a sad loss to his father."
"What— dead?" you ask.
" Yes, two years ago," the landlord replies. " Little Ham-
net was never very strong, to be sure, but he sickened aud
died almost before, we knew aught was wrong with him. A
sad loss to his father. Master Shakespeare dearly loved
the lad, and while he was gathering fame and wealth he
thought most, I doubt not, of the boy to whom lie was to
pass them on."
"So Master William Shakespeare has grown rich as well
as famous, has he ?" you say, for all England knows by that
time of his wonderful plays.
"Indeed yes," the landlord answers yon. "See, across
the trees, that big house yonder? It is New Plan*. 1 ulit
iu the spring of this very year of 1597, by Master Shake-
speare, aud put into fine repair. And there all his family
live now — his old father, Master John, his wife, Mistress
Ann, aud all the children. But little Hamnet is not there,
aud I doubt not Master Shakespeare would yladly give all
New Place and his theatre in London too, for that sou of
his back again, alive and well, aud as happy of face as he
used to be iu the old house in Henley Street."
The landlord of the Bear is right. Hamnet Shakespeare
ended his short life on the llth of August, 1596, being then
but eleven years old.
We know but little of his famous father's life ; we know
even less of the son he so dearly loved. Nor can any one
say, had the boy but lived, whether he would have in-
herited anything of his father's genius.
The play of Hamlet may have been called in memory of
the boy Harnuet, so nearly are the names alike ; even more
is it possible that the lovely boy, Prince Arthur, whose
tragic story is a part of Shakespeare's play of King John,
may have been drawn in memory of the writer's dead boy.
For Kimj John was written in the year of young Hamnet
Shakespeare's death, and with the loss of ihr buy In1 M>
dearly loved weighing upon his s.iul the givat writer,
whose name and fame the years only make \t-t more grc;it,
may thus have put into words :i tender memory of the
short-lived little Hamuet, the geutlo son of Shake: tjeare.
981
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE DEMON OF SNAGGLE-TOOTH ROCK.
BY AGNES CARE SAGE.
HERE were weeping and wailing
within the Siiunders' modest "one-
story-and-a-jump" cottage. Mo-
nnngahela's eyes were red from
crying; the twins, Dallas Lee and
Jemima Calline, had for once lost
their appetite, even for corn-pone
and molasses; and Washington
Beanregard, the eldest of the
^^^^ brood of youngsters, frowned
gloomily, ami ground his teeth in,
ileep if silent rage as he polished tip his antiquated old rifle
.and thought upon vengeance. Only the baby crowed and
gnrgled as lustily as ever, slinking his gourd rattle in bliss-
ful infantile ignorance of the loss that had befallen the
family — a loss most keenly felt by the children, for it was
that of the bonny ewe-lamb, their pet and plaything by
day, and almost their bedfellow by night; while the man-
ner of its disappearance was shrouded in profound mys-
tery.
"Mebbe 'twas Hutcher Killem who tuck him," suddenly
suggested the lugubrious boy twin. "Tuck him to make
masts 'n' chops of; 'n' if it was, we may be eatin' Cotton
Ball for dinner some of these fine days."
A dire prediction, which immediately sent Jemima Cal-
line off into a wild paroxysm of grief, flinging herself flat
upon the floor, and drumming a funereal tattoo with her
best Sunday shoes on the gay rag carpet of domestic manu-
facture. "I'll never taste mutton again ; never, never, the
longest day I live," she howled.
"Now, Dallas Lee, see what you've done!" scolded Mo-
nongahela, usually called Monny for short. "You've set
her off agin, and we'll have her in 'sterics directly. Thar
ain't no need of any sech fool talk cither, and slanderin'
your neighbor into the bargain. Mr. Killem is an honest
man, who buys 'n' pays for all the critters he cuts np. Be-
.siih's, I caught the lamb myself, and shet her up in the wood-
shed before ever we started for the bnsh-mcetin'. I locked
I he door 'n' took the key in my pocket. The door was still
locked when we came back."
"Ya — as; but ye couldn't lock the hole in the roof,"
drawled Wash, looking up from his polishing. "The hole
pap 'n' I hev been calculatin' to mend for some time back,
but 'ain't got at yit, more's the pity. Tliar's where the thief
come in. For thai- on the shingles is where the locks of
wool are a-hangiu'."
"But I can't see how anybody could clamber np tliar,
drop through a hole, and git back agin with a bigkickin'
beast in his arms ; for if he'd killed it on the spot ther'd
be blood spattered 'round."
"Mebbe nobody could, but mebbe nometlrinr/ might."
"Some thing! What sort of a thing" A fox or any
ol her animal .'"
"P'r'aps so," but Wash would say no more. He was fa-
mous for holding bis own counsel, and did so now, until the
yellow moon had risen from behind the glorious mountain
peaks surrounding their little primit ive West Virginia home,
and he arid his favorite sister wandered out together into
the soft, pine-scented night. Then, however, their thoughts
naturally reverted to the mysterious disappearance, and
the girl asked somewhat curiously, "So, Washington Bean-
regard, you won't allow that the 'ornery' thief what stole
our pet come on two legs ?"
"No, Mouny, nor on four legs nuther," answered her
brother. '•'Though I didn't want to say much afore the
ohillen. But I've been a-stndyin' over this matter, and I
begin to fear that he comes on wings."
"On wings! Law, then, he must be a bird ! But I never
saw a hawk or even an eagle big and strong enough to tote
off a half-grown sheep like Cotton Ball. Strikes me it's
dumb foolishness you're talkin', Wash."
•• \\ aal. I duuno about that. Hevn't you heard the old
hunters, o:j winter nights, tell of a curisome-wiuged thing
that once made its nest over yonder on Snaggle Tooth ?"
ami the youth pointed to a high, dark, jagged crag sil-
houetted against the purplish-blue sky. " It did a po\\cr
of mischief in this neighborhood, totin' off chickens 'n' dogs
'n' sheep, and some say even tackliu' a calf. 'Twas a cute
old fowl, so nobody could git a crack at it; but was up to
so much devilment, that they called it the Demon of
Snuggle-Tooth Rock."
" Oh, yaus. I've heard o' that often ; but it was years ago,
before you or I were born, an' the critter hasn't been
raound here since."
"That's so; but what has been kin be; and the other
day Tim Harkins tole me a yarn about jest sech a bird
havin' been seen lately over Stonycliff way. A mon-
strous chap, something like a golden eagle, only bigger an'
wickeder-lookin', with a more crooked beak, an' feathers of a
dirty brownish-gray. At the time I thought Tim was jest
a-bnmbuggin', but after the little beast disappeared so un-
accountable like, I begun to reckon it must be true, sure
enough."
"Oh, Wash, I can't, bear to think of it!" and Monny's
face looked quite pale in the moonlight. "Poor, dear lit-
tle Cotton Ball! Fancy that demon and his mate tearing
her limb from limb. It 'most breaks my heart." And long
after the girl hail climbed the ladder leading to the low
attic under the clapboard roof, which she had shared with
the younger children ever since their mother's death one
year before, she lingered at the tiny two-paned window
gazing off at the peaceful-seeming hills, but in imagina-
tion following the lost lambkin to the eagle's grim eyrie
on wild, inaccessible Snaggle-Tooth Rock.
"It is dreadful, dreadful ; but I won't tell Jemima Cal-
line," was her last thought as she crept into bed beside her
sister.
For Monongahela was old beyond her fourteen years,
and bravely strove to fill the place of their lost parent to
the motherless little ones, sending them trim and tidy to
school and " Methody meetin'," feeding them on plenty of
bacon, corn-dodgers, and apple-butter, and every morning,
in spite of grimaces, dosing them all round with "whiskey
and burdock " as an antidote against dyspepsia, the curse
of that hog -eating, excessive coffee -drinking commu-
nity.
Within a few days Washington's fears were painfully
confirmed. Our young mountain folk were out one after-
noon on the hill-side gathering ginseng and other herbs,
when they met the circuit-rider who visited in turn the
churches of their vicinity, and whom Mr. Saunders had fre-
quently entertained. He paused for a chat, and informed
them of the consternation created in a neighboring valley
by the appearance of the terrible bird to prey upon any
poultry or small animals left out over night ; while one
man had been severely wounded in an almost hand-to-claw
tussle in order to save his dog.
The following morning, then, when Monny, with the
baby toddling by her side, went out early to milk the cow,
she heard a continuous tiring, and came upon her brother
armed with the old flint-lock rifle which he had inherited
from his grandfather, popping away at the brown and pur-
ple eoiies on the top of a tall pine-tree, and deftly .snap-
ping off the one at which he aimed uiue times out of
ten.
"Well, Washington Beauregard, I'll allow you are a
pretty fair marksman," she remarked, after a moment of
admiring watching. "Not many private hunters kin wing
a bird as well as you, kin they?"
"Reckon I could hold my own agin most of they-nns if
I only had a new-fangled gun," returned the boy. "This
old fowlin'-piece ain't wuth much, and I do hope I kin sell
enough 'sang'* this year to buy another. 'Tain't much
fun to git a fine aim at a buck and lose him 'cause \oiir
gun misses fire. As it is, though, I believe I could snip a
curl off the baby's head an' hardly scare the darlin'. Jest
hold him up, honey, an' let me hev a try." But to this
William Tell arrangement Monny objected in honor, and
scurried off with the infant, followed by Wash's roar of
laughter aud shout of "Ho, scare rabbit! But anyhow I
* Ginseng.
982
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
mean to keep in practice, 'n' liov ;i cold-lead welcome ready
fur rliat air eagle if he ever shows hisself this way agin."
The bird did not conic; lint about noon Tim Harkins
did, ambling aliing- on a rawboned sorrel nag. and reined
up at the, gate with a long-drawn-out " Whoa, thar!"
•' Wash Saunders! Oh, Wash!'' he called, and that youth,
rising from the, dinner-table, appeared in the ramshackle
porch.
" Hello, Tim, is that you ? Step in an' liev a bite, won't
\ el1 .'"
" No, thankee. I'm jest on my way to a gander-pull over
nigh the Springs, 'n' on'y stopped to fotch you a message.
Ye wouldn't keer, naow, to hire out for a few weeks, at a
dollar a day, would ver?"
"What to do?"
"Oh, jest to show a gentleman through the mountings,
an' pint out the bants o' the wild birds. 'Pears this Per-
fe.ssor, as they call him, is stoppin' over to the Spring Hotel,
an' the landlord. Poke Dickson, axed me ef I knowed any
o' the neighborhood boys who would like the job. Somenu
what wuz a tirst-rate shot, an"quainted with all the trails.
Yaas, Itole him Wash Saunders am the very chap, ef you
kin git him. But, 1 added, the Saunders air pooty ticky.
an' Wash, mebhe, won't relish playin' pinter-dorg to any
one. For, sez I, his pappy am a forehanded man, who
keeps his fambly comf'ble. He hez a good corn 'u' tobaccy
field, 'n' the gyurls hez a kyarpet on the liest room, 'n' cur-
tings to the windys, 'n' everything mighty slick. Still, sez
I, 'twon't do no harm to ax, so here I be."
"Sho, Tim, you know I ain't so ticky as that. Dunno
but I'd like it tirst rate, for I'm sti'iviu' to get a new rifle,
(iranddaddy's old ' Sally Blazer,' as he used to name it, is
about played out."
"Waal, naow, then, here's your chance, 'n' I'm real tic-
kled. But I must be ajoggin'. G'laug, Juniper! Shall I
tell Poke you will go over 'n' see the Perfessor?"
" Yes, I will, this very eveniu'"; which the boy did, and
returned jubilant. "It's a snap, a reg'lar snap," lie de-
elaied to the group of brothers and sisters who ran to
meet him. " Professor Stuart is real quality, an' no mis-
take. He's an orni — orni — waal, I don't rightly remember
the name, but he's plumb crazy about birds, 'n' coined here
a purpose to see those what live in West Virginia. It's a
curons notion, b.ut he's nice, 'u' so is Mis' Stuart, though
she lies on a sofy most of the time, and looks drefiul white
'u' pindlin'."
"Air there any chilluns?" inquired Jemima Calline.
" Yaas, two. An awful pooty gyurl, with eyes like brown
stars, an' all rigged out in white, same as an angel, with
big, puft'y sleeves ; an' the jolliest small boy you ever see.
He's a downright little man, though he's only live year old,
an' he's curls down to his waist."
" Waal, then, sence they were so friendly, I s'pose you
came to some bargain ?'' said Monougahela.
"Sartain; an' I'm to meet Mr. Stuart to-morrer mornin'
at the cross-roads an' show him a red-bird's nest. He
wants to collect eggs an' live specimens."
When, then, the Professor rode up to the appointed ren-
dezvous on the following day, he found Wash awainng
him, " Sally Blazer " in hand, and a powder-horn and shot-
pouch sluug from his neck by a leather strap. His tret.
too, were encased in moccasins that his footfall might not
startle the shy creatures of the wildwood.
"Ah, my lad, I see you understand the business," remark-
ed the ornithologist, with an approving nod, " and I predict
we shall be tine friends."
Thus, too, it proved and for both. That -was the begin-
ning of a month of happy, halcyon days spent in the open ;
a perpetual picnic, sealing the rough but ever-enchanting
hills, wandering through the beautiful solemn pine for-
ests, following Nature's most winsome things to their cho-
sen haunts, and always breathing in the resinous health-
giving mountain air. Sometimes, when the tramp was not
to be too long a one, small Royal accompanied his father,
gay and joyous as a dancing grig, and looking like a little
Highland princeling in his outing costume of Scotch plaid,
proudly flourishing a tiny wooden gun.
" We are good chums, ain't we, Wash ?" he would say, in
983
his precocious friendly little way — "good chums, going
limiting together. But we mustn't kill things just for fun.
That is naughty. Papa says i',,,,,! ,,, science is 'the only ex-
cuse. He never takes but one egg IVum a nest, and would
rather snare birds than shoot them."
Occasionally, too, pretty Jean would join the party at a
given point, driving over with a. dainty 1 -h from the ho-
tel, and then there would be a merry out-door meal in some
cozy green nook, near to one of the cold clear mountain
springs which furnished the purest and must refreshing
beverage.
And what a revelation this experience was to poor little
Washington Beauregard i Not only the bits of knowledge
he picked up from the ornithologist's learned discourses on
the gorgeous Virginia-cardinals and orioles, the red-capped
woodpeckers and flitting humming-birds, but in a different
style of girlhood and more refined mode of life than he had
ever known. Day by day, too, he became fonder of and
more devoted to his new friends, and looked forward with
dread to the time when they must part. All too speedily,
then, that date drew on apace, until the morning set for
their last pleasant tramp dawned. The Professor and
Washington started early, while at noon Jean and Eoyal
met them on the hills above Stonycliff, climbing the last
rough incline, that being too steep for the horses and car-
riage, which were left with the driver at a small clearing
part way down the mountain.
"And just think, papa," cried Jean, " we found the squat-
ter's wife at the log house below in sore trouble. Yester-
day that horrible eagle, of which we have heard so much,
swooped down and carried off her milch-goat almost before
her very eyes, and now what she is going to do for milk for
her baby she does not know."
" Well, that is a misfortune truly," said the Professor,
"and we must see what we can do to help her, but I wish
I had been here to have a peep at that abnormal bird. I
imagine the stories regarding it are much exaggerated, but
if not, it cannot be an eagle, must belong to the semi-
vulturine family, though those are rarer than white black-
birds in this part of the world. I really am curious to get
a glimpse of the creature." And as it chanced, he was des-
tined to have his curiosity satisfied in a way he little dream-
ed of.
The collation eaten that day under the trees was an un-
usually bountiful one, reflecting credit on mine host of the
Spring House, and after it the ornithologist stretched him-
self out to enjoy an afternoon cigar, while Jean, followed
by her small brother, wandered off to sketch a charming
view that had taken her fancy. Meanwhile Wash cleared
away the remains of the feast, packing the dishes in the
hamper, and carefully saving any fragments of good things
for the little ones at home.
He had jnst completed his task, when a frightened cry
of "Sister, oh, sister!" and a blood-curdling shriek from the
girl made him snatch up his fowling-piece and fly in the
direction the young Stuarts had taken. The Professor
also sprang to his feet and followed suit, while, as they
emerged from the shadow of the wood, both were almost
paralyzed by the sight they beheld. For then- Mood Jean,
white to the very lips, but bravely endeavoring with her
climbing-statl to beat off an enormous bird, in vt I osi un :it
cruel talons struggled little Royal, upon whom had been
made a sudden ami fierce attack.
"My goodness! it's the demon .'" gasped Wash, while me
father, overcome by a sickening horror, fell back againsi a
tree. Even too, as they approached, the huge, rcpnUi\e
creature spread its big dusky wings and began slowly to
rise, bearing off in its claws the poor child, who stretched
out his tiny hand, sobbing piteously, "Ob, papa. sa\e !"
There was one terrible nightmarish second, when nobody
had power to move, and then the Professor. \\ nh a wild
lunge forward, caught at his vanishing boy. But the gay
kilt slipped through his fingers, and still the bird of prey
soared relentlessly upward and onward.
Km at that moment Granddadd\ Saunders's old rille
was raised aud levelled at the monster.
" Oh, Wash, pray bo careful; yon may hit the wee lad-
die," cried Jean, sinking dowu and covering In i
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
'MAY OLD 'SALLY BLAZERS' NOT MISS FIRE THIS TIME!1
No one kuew the danger better than the mountain-bred
youth, but he held himself well in hand and kept cool. "I
must only maim, not kill, the critter outright," he thought,
"and may old '.Sally Blazers' not miss lire this time!"
Then he took careful aim, a bullet whistled through the
air, and the "demon's" left wing dropped powerless at hi.s
side. They could see the wrathful red gleam in the crea-
ture's eyes as it paused, wavered, and careened to one side,
but the right pinion still flapped vigorously, and kept it
up, while it still retained its clutch on the little fellow, who
uo longer screamed, but now appeared ominously quiet and
white.
" Ef he gits over the precipice all is lost," murmured the
young sportsman, with a glance toward the edge of the
cliff upon which they stood, and he wasted no time in re-
loading" and firing again. Aud oh, joy! again he winged
his victim, which, uttering an unearthly, discordant cry,
began to flutter slowly downward. But now a fresh dan-
ger threatened Royal, for the bird, maddened by pain, sud-
denly released its hold, and the fair little head must surely
have been crushed on the jagged rocks beneath, had not
Wash been prepared for this, and, springing forward, caught
him in his strong young arms, although the precipitancy
with which the child came almost flung both to the ground.
There was just an instant, too, in which to stagger to one
side, before, with a whirl and a whir, the mighty fowl was
upon them, striking the stony ledge with a dull, sickening
thud. Wounded, but by no means dead, was the Suaggle-
Tooth demon, and he fought desperately with beak and
claws, and beat himself against the granite, until a third
shot from old " Sally Blazers" finally ended his career for-
ever.
Meanwhile poor little Royal lay stretched on a bed of
moss, pale aud unconscious, his garments torn to tatters,
and blood streaming from bis chubby legs and arms.
"He is dead; my bonny wee laddie is
dead, and how ever shall I tell his mo-
ther?" sobbed the Professor, completely
unnerved; but Jeauie never stopped
chafing the dimpled hands, and bathing
the white forehead with cold water;
until, after what seemed an eternity, a
low sigh issued from between the child's
pah- lips.
" No, papa dear, he is breathing, and
it is Wash, good brave Wash, who has
saved him"; and when the young girl
turned aud thanked him, and her eyes
filled with grateful tears, the uncouth
buck woods boy, though he could only
stammer and blush, felt it to be the proud-
est moment in all his fifteen years of
lite.
Soon Royal regained consciousness, but
seemed so dazed and frightened, clinging
to his sister and imploring her to "hide
him from the awful, scratching claws,"
both father and daughter looked wor-
ried. "For it will kill mamma to see him
in this condition," groaned Jean.
"Oh, then, "put in Wash, eagerly," jest
tote him down to our house. Monnv
would admire to hev yer, 'u' she's a fust-
rate miss."
" Do you think so ? Would your sister
really not object?"
"'Deed no; she will be plumb right
glad."
So it was decided, and so the young
Stuarts made the acquaintance of Mo-
nongahela, Jemima Calliue, Dallas Lee,
and the baby, and slept in the room with
the " rag kyarpet and the curtiugs,"
which was hastily prepared for the un-
expected guests, while by the fitful light
of six pine knots the killing of the Snag-
gle-Rock demon was rehearsed again and
again. Monny lost her heart to gentle,
ladylike Jean, and concocted such a bowl of "yarbtea"
for Royal that he slept soundly all night, and awoke his
own bright, bonny, little self.
" It has been a strange conclusion to a most satisfactory
summer," said Mr. Stuart, w hen he appeared at the cottage
the next day. " And but for you, Washington, would have
been a very tragic one."
But when he attempted to reward the boy with money,
he stiffened in a moment. "No, thankee, sir," he said. "I
can't take it. Why, I love that leetle R'yal most as much
as I do Dallas Lee, 'n' I won't be paid for rescuin' him.
Besides, I had a grudge agin that air eagle, on my own ac-
count, all along of Cotton Ball."
"That vulture, you mean; for I was not mistaken. It
belongs to the vulture family, though sometimes erroneous-
ly called the 'golden eagle.' Well, I am not sure but you
can get a nice little sum for that specimen, as it is a rare
and unusually large one. Suppose I taUe it to the city,
and see what I can do for you ?"
To this Wash agreed, and the huge bird of prey, which
was found to measure fourteen feet from tip to tip of its
broad wings, after lying in state, and being visited by half
the county, was shipped to New York, while the amount
returned by the Professor for the great carcass seemed a
veritable fortune to the Sauuders, whom the neighbors say
are more " ticky " than ever.
Certainly St. George never won more local fame by his
dragon slaving than did Washington Beauregard by his
lucky feat, and he is proud of the handsome silver-mounted
Winchester rifle, the gift of " his grateful friend Royal
Stuart," that hangs side by side with the ancient gun
which shot the voracious bird of prey now adorning a city
museum, labelled " The Lammergeir, or Bearded Vulture"
but which in the West Virginia mountains will go down to
history as the Demon of Sn aggie-Tooth Rock.
984
OAKLEIQH.
B Y K L LEX DOUGLAS D E L A N D.
CHAPTER XV.
Till; drive to Bine Hill bad been delightful and the view
from tin' tup exceptionally fine, it being one of tliose
clear, slill days when distant objects arc brought near. It
seemed almost possible to ]ay one's finger upon the spires
of Boston and the glistening dome of the State-house miles
away.
Bronson had exrrteil himself to the utmost. He wished
to stand well with all men, and particularly with the
Franklin family. From a worldly point of view it would
ha\ij a most excellent effect for him to he seen driving
with pretty Edith Franklin, of Oakleigh. He was glad
whenever they passed a handsome turnout from Milton,
and he was obliged to take off his hat to its occupants. He
felt that he had really gone up in the world during the
last year or two. It was a lucky tiling for him, he thought.,
that he had fallen in with Tom Morgau at St. Asaph's. By
the time he left college, which he was entering this year,
lie would have made quite a number of desirable acquaint-
ances.
Hi* talk was clever, hut every now and then he said
something that made Edith wince. He spoke of Neal, and
was sorry he had gone to the bad altogether. Had he
really disappeared?
Edith hesitated; she had not the ready wit with which
Cynthia would have parried the question.
"We think he is in Philadelphia," she said, finally.
Bronson laughed.
•• Hardly, "he said; "I saw him in Boston a day or two
ago. He looked rather seedy, I thought, and I felt sorry
for him, but I didn't stop and speak. Thought it wouldn't
do. don't you know ; and I'm glad I didn't, as you feel this
way."
"I hardly know what yon mean," said Edith, somewhat
distantly ; " we are sorry N'eal went away, that is all."
Though she thought he must have taken the money.
Edith felt obliged to defend Ifeal for the sake of the fam-
ily honor. She had suffered extremely from the talk that
there had been in Brenton ; she did so dislike to be talked
about, and this affair had given rise to much gossip.
"You are very good to say that, "said Bronson. "How
generous you are uot to acknowledge that Gordon stole the
money to pay me."
"Stole!" repeated Edith, shuddering.
"I beg pardon,! shouldn't have stated it so broadly;
but I'm so mixed up in it, don't you know. It was really
my fault, you see, that he felt obliged to— er — to take it.
But, of course, I'd no idea it would lead to any such thing
as this. I fancied Gordon could get hold of as much money
as he wanted by perfectly fair means. Will you believe me,
Miss Edith, when I tell you how awfully sorry I am that I
should have indirectly caused you any annoyance?"
He looked very handsome, and Edith could not see the
expression of triumph in his steely eyes. It was nice of
him. perhaps, to say this, even though there was something
"out "in his way of doing it.
What was it about Bronson that always affected her
thus, even though she liked him, and was flattered In In-
attentions? She said to herself that it was merely the ef-
fect of Cynthia's outspoken dislike. Unreasonable though
it was, it influenced her.
But now it came over Edith with overwhelming force
'YOU WERE AFRAID TO BRAVE IT OVT. AFRAID!"
985
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
that she had done very wrong to come with Tony Bronsou
this afternoon. She was disobeying her step-mother, be-
sides acting most deceitfully. Yes; she had deliberately
deceived Mrs. Franklin when she wrote the note the day
before; for had she not had it in her mind then to allow
herself to be over-persuaded in regard to the drive ? These
thoughts made Edith very silent
And theu they had driven through Brenton. Unfortu-
nately an electric car reached the corner just as they did.
The gay little mare from the livery-stable, which had been
rather resentful of control all the afternoon, bolted and
ran. A heavy ice-cart barred the way. There was a crash,
and Bronson and Edith were both thrown out.
It was all over in a moment; but Edith had time to
real:: • what was about to happen, and again there flashed
through her mind the conviction of how wrongly she had
behaved. What would mamma say ?
It was significant that she thought of Mrs. Franklin then
for the first time as " mamma.''
Bronson escaped with a few bruises, but Edith was very
much hurt — just how much the doctor could not tell. She
•was unconscious for several hours.
Cynthia never forgot that night; her father away ; her
mother, with teuse, strained face, watching by the bedside;
and, above all, the awful stillness in Edith's room while
they waited for her to open her eyes. Perhaps she would
never open them. What then? Beyond that Cynthia's
imagination refused to go.
She was sorry that she had been so cross with Edith
about Bronson. Suppose she never were able to speak to
her sister again ! Her last words would have been angry
ones. She would not remember that Edith had done
wrong to go; all that was forgotten in the vivid terror
of the present momeu' .
The tall clock in the hall struck twelve. It was midnight
again, just as it had been on New Year's Eve when she
and Neal stood by the window and looked out on the
snow. The clock had struck and Neal had not promised.
Reminded of Neal, she put her hand in her pocket and
drew out the crumpled note. It had quite escaped her
mind that she was to meet him to-morrow. To-morrow?
It was to-day! Sue was to see Neal to-day, and bring him
back to her mother. Poor mamma! And Cynthia looked
lovingly at the silent watcher by the bed.
Edith did not die. The doctor, who spent the night at
Oakleigh, spoke more hopefully in the morning. She was
very seriously hurt, but he thought that in time she would
recover. She was conscious when he left.
The morning dawned fair, but by nine o'clock the sun
was obscured. It was one of those warm spring days
when the clouds hang low and showers are imminent. Mrs.
Franklin was surprised when Cynthia told her that she
was going on the river.
" To-day, Cynthia? It looks like rain, and you must be
tired, for you had little sleep last night. Besides, your
father may arrive at any moment if he got my telegram
promptly, and theu, dear Edith !"
" I know, mamma," faltered Cynthia. It was hard to
ex plain away her apparent thoughtlessness. " But I sha'u't
be gone long. It always does me good to paddle, and
Jack will be at home and the nurse has come. Do you
really need me, mamma ?"
"Oh no, not if you want to go so much. I thought per-
haps Edith would like to have you near. But I must go
back to her now. Don't stay away too long, Cynthia. I
like to have you within call."
Cynthia would have preferred to stay close by Edith's
side. l>nt there was no help for it; she must go to NYal.
Afterwards, when she came back and brought Neal with
her. her mother would understand.
She was soon in the canoe, paddling rapidly down-stream.
A year had not made great alteration in Cynthia's appear-
ance. As she was fifteen years old now her gowns were
a few inches longer, and her hair was braided and looped
up at the neck, instead of hanging in curly disorder as it
once did; and this was done only out of regard for Edith.
Cynthia herself cared no more about the way she looked
than she ever did. She did not want to grow up, she said.
She preferred to remain a little girl, and have a good time
just as long as she possibly could.
It was quite a warm morning for the time of year, and
the low-hanging clouds made exercise irksome, but Cynthia
did not heed the weather. Her one idea was to reach Neal
as quickly as possible and bring him home. How happy
her mother would be! She wondered why he had not re-
turned to the house at once, instead of sending for her in
this mysterious fashion ; it would have been so much nicer.
However, she was glad he had come, even this way. It was
far better than not coming at all.
Her destination lay several miles from Oakleigh ; but the
current and what breeze there was were both in Cynthia's
favor, and it was not long before she had passed under the
stone bridge which stood about half-way between. She
met no one; the river was little frequented at this hour of
the morning so far from the town, for the numerous curves
in the Charles made it a much longer trip by water than
by road from Oakleigh to Brentou. A farmer's boy or two
watched her pass, and criticised loudly, though amiably,
the long free sweep of her paddle.
Cynthia did not notice them. Her mind was fully oc-
cupied, aud her eyes were fixed upon the distance. As each
bend in the river was rounded she hoped that she might
see Neal's familiar figure waiting for her.
Aud at last she did see him. He was sitting on the
bank, leaning against the trunk of a tree, and when she
came in sight he ran down to the little beach that made a
good landing-place just at this point.
" Cynthia, you're a brick !" he exclaimed. " I was afraid
you were not coming."
" Oh, Neal, I'm so glad to see you! Get in quickly, and
we'll go back as fast as we can. Of course I came, but we
mustn't lose a minute on account of Edith. Hurry !"
"What do you mean ? I'm not going back with you."
"Not going back? Why, Neal, of course you are."
"Not by a long shot. Did you think I would ever go
back there ?"
" Neal !"
Cynthia's voice trembled. The color rose in her face aud
her eyes tilled with tears.
" Neal, you can't really mean it ?"
" Of course I do."
"Then why did you send for me?"
"Because I wanted to see you. There, don't look as if
you were going to cry, Cynthia. I hate girls that cry. and
you never were that sort. I'll be sorry I sent for you if
you do."
Cynthia struggled to regain her composure. This was a
bitter disappointment, but she must make every effort to
prevail upon Neal to yield.
"I'm not crying," she said, blinking her eyes very hard.
"Tell me what you mean."
" I don't mean anything in particular, except that I
wanted to see you again, perhaps for the last time." This
with a rather tragic air.
"The last time?"
" Yes. I've made tip my mind to cut loose from every-
body, and just look out for myself after this. If my only
sister suspects me of stealing, I don't care to have any-
thing more to do with her. I can easily get along until
I'm twenty -five. I'll just knock round and take things
easy, aud if I go to the bad no one will care particularly."
" Neal, I had no idea you were such a coward !" exclaimed
Cynthia, indignantly.
"Coward! You had better look out, Cynthia. I won't
stand much of that sort of thing."
" You've got to stand it. I call you a coward. You ran
away like a boy in a dime novel, just because you couldn't
stand having anything go wrong. You were afraid to
brave it out. J/Voirf.'"
There was no suspicion of tears now in Cynthia's voice.
She knelt in the canoe very erect and very angry. Her
cheeks were crimson, and her blue eyes had grown very
dark.
"I tell you again to take care," said Neal, restraining
his anger with difficulty. ''I did not scud for you to come
dowu here aud rave this way."
980
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
" And I never would have come if I'd thought you were
going to behave this way. I'm dreadfully, dreadfully dis-
appointed in you, Neal. I always thought you were a very
uice hoy, and I was awfully fond of you — almost as foud of
yon as I am of Jack, and now —
She broke off abruptly and looked away across the
river.
If Neal was touched by this speech he did not show it at
the moment. He stood with his hands in his pockets, kick-
ing the toe of his boot against a rock.
••of course I couldn't stay there," he said, presently.
" Your father as good as called me a thief."
"He didn't at all. He didn't really believe you had
taken the money until yon ran away. Then, of course,
e\er\ one thought it strange that you went, and I don't
wonder. And I couldn't tell how it really was, because I
had promised you ; but I'm not going to keep the promise
any longer, Neal. I am going to tell."
" No, you can't. You've promised, and I won't release
you. I am not going to demean myself by explaining;
they ought to have believed in me. But I wish you would
stop scolding, Cynthia, and come up here on the bank. I
can't talk while you are swinging round there with the
current."
After a moment's hesitation Cynthia complied with his
request. It occurred to her that perhaps she could accom-
plish more by persuasion than by wrath. Neal drew up
the boat and they sat down under the tree.
" Where have yon been all this time ?" asked Cynthia.
"In Boston, first. I've been staying with several fel-
lows. I gave out that I was going to Philadelphia, for I
thought yon would be looking for me, and it is true, for I
am going, some time soon. Then I went to Roxbury, and
yesterday I walked out from there and found that little
shaver to take the note to you."
" Have you told your friends that you ran away?"
"No. Why should I? Fortunately I took enough
dollies, though these are beginning to look a little shabby.
I spenl last night in a shed. I've only got a little money
left, but it will answer until I get something to do."
"Neal, do you know you are just breaking mamma's
heart :'"
N'eal said nothing.
•• She has looked so awfully ever since you left, and she
wrote to yon in Philadelphia, and papa went on, but we
had to send for him to come back on account of Edith."
" What about Edith ?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? Edith had a fearful accident
\ . sterday. She was driving with — she went to drive, and
\\as thrown out and was terribly hurt."
"I'm awfully sorry," said Neal, with real concern in
his voice. "How did it happen? Was it one of your
horses ?"
"No," said Cynthia, hurrying over that part of it, for
she did not want Neal to know that Edith had been with
Brousou; "but she was very much hurt, Neal. She was
unconscious nearly all night, and the doctor thought per-
haps she— she would die. Oh, Neal, won't you come back ?
Won't yon please come back?"
Neal rose abruptly, and began to walk up and down the
little clearing.
••I wish you wouldn't, Cynthia," he remonstrated; "I've
told you I couldn't, and you ought not to ask me. I'm aw-
fully'sorry about Edith, and I'm sorry Hessie feels so badly
about me. I'll give in about one thing. You can tell her
yon have seen me and that I am well. You needn't say I'm
going tot he bad, but very likely I shall. You mustn't say a
word about having lent me the money, I will not have
that explained. There, it has begun to rain."
A few big drops came pattering down, falling with loud
splashes into the river.
"Oh, I must hurry back!" exclaimed Cynthia, hastily
drying her eyes.
" It's only going to be a shower. Come up here where
the trees are thicker, and wait till it is over. See, it's all
bright over there."
Cynthia looked in the direction indicated, and seeing a
streak of cloud that was somewhat lighter than the rest,
concluded to wait. Perhaps she could yet prevail upon
Neal to come.
They went into the woods a short distance, and though
there were not many leaves upon the trees MS yet. th. \
were more protected than in tl pen. It was raining hard
now.
"Neal," said Cynthia, in her gentlest tones, " when you
have thought it over a little more I'm sure you will agree
with me. Indeed, you ought to conic."
"I have done nothing else but think it over, and I tell
you I am not coming, Cynthia. I wish you wouldn't -;iy
any more. I sent for you because I wanted to see you once
more, and now you're spoiling it all. I don't believe you
care a bit about me."
"Oh, Neal, how can you say so? You know I do care,
very much. I'm awfully disappointed in yon, that's all. I
always thought you were brave and good, and would do
things you ought to do, even when you didn't want to. • It
does seem selfish to stay away and make mamma feel so
badly, when it would only be necessary to come home and
say you had borrowed the money of me, to make every-
thing all right. It seems very selfish indeed, but perhaps
I am mistaken. I dare say I'm very selfish myself, and have
no right to preach to you, but if you could see mamma I'm
sure you would feel as I do."
Neal remaiued silent.
"But I still have faith in you," continued Cynthia. "I
think some day you will see it as I do. I am sure you will.
Oh, dear, how wet it is getting."
The rain was coming down in torrents. The ground was
wet and soggy, and their feet sank in the drenched leaves.
The canoe, drawn up on the bank, was full of water.
" I ought to have gone home. It is going to rain all day,
and mamma will be so worried."
The clouds had settled down heavily, and there was no
prospect whatever of the rain stopping.
"I must go right away; I am wet through now. Oh,
Neal, if you would only go with me ! Won't you go, Neal f '
But Neal shook his head.
"Very well; then it is good-by. But remember what I
said, Neal. It's your own fault that the family think you
took it. And if mamma or any one ever asks me any ques-
tions about what I am going to do with Aunt Betsey's pres-
ent, I'm not going to pretend anything. If they choose to
find out I lent it to yon. they can. You won't say I can tell
them ; so, of course, I can't do it, as I promised, but I sha'u't
prevent them finding it out. Oh, Neal, do, do come !"
"I'm a brute, Cynth, I know, but I can't give in. You
don't know how hard it is for me ever to give in. I'll re-
member what you said. Please shake, hands for good-by to
me, if you don't think I'm too mean and seltish and heart-
less and a coward, and everything else you've said."
"Oh, Neal!" cried Cynthia, as she grasped his hand with
both of hers, "some day I'm .sure you will come. Good-by,
Neal."
They turned over the canoe,which was full of rain-water,
and then Cynthia embarked. Suddenly an idea occurred
to her — she would make one more effort.
"Neal, you will have to go part way with me. I'm really
afraid to go alone. It is raining so hard the boat will till
up, and it will take me so long to go alone."
Neal could not resist this very feminine appeal. H<-
hesitated, and then got in and took the extra paddle.
"I'll go part way, Cynthia, but 1 won't go home. Of
course I can't let you go off alone if you're afraid. I never
knew you to be so before."
With long, vigorous strokes they were soon pulling up-
stream. Occasionally one of them would stop and bail with
the big sponge kept in thclm.ii for emergencies.
The rain splashed into the river, anil the dull gray si ream
seemed to run more swiftly than usual. It looked ver\ dil-
ferent from its wont. Cynthia and Neal. ma n\ limes :is they
had been together on the Charles, had never before been
there iu ;i storm.
"Everything is changed," tliongln Cynthia; "even my
own river is different. Will things ever be the same again.'
Oh, if Neal will only give iu when we get near home!"
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
987
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
A LANDING PARTY.
A WAR FLEET IN TRAINING.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
T'HE fleet cruiser Minneapolis lies straining at her arch-
ed cable oft' Tompkinsville, Stateu Island. The last
of the flood tide is singing nrouud the outward curve of
her powerful ram, and a gentle southerly breeze is floating
to leeward from her massive yellow smoke-stacks, two
columns of oily-brown smoke, for the signal "spread tires"
flew from the flag-ship hours ago, and the fleet is in read-
iness to get under way. Down in the fire-room the coal-
passers feed the giant furnaces that roar for more. Water-
tenders and machinists glide hither and thither watching
the boilers and the machinery. On the platforms beside
the twin engines stand engineer officers waiting for the
signal to start the propellers. Brass-work and steel-work
glitter with the splendor of a new polish, and under all
rumbles the dull monotone of the dynamo.
On the bridge stand the Captain, the Executive Officer,
the navigator, the officer of the watch, the cadet whose
duty it is to watch for signals, and a signal boy. A sea-
man stands by the wheel, and a quartermaster stands he-
side him. On the after-bridge stand the junior. officer of
the watch, a quartermaster, and two signal hoys. About
the decks are hundreds of seamen ready to jump to their
allotted stations. All are silent, eager, alert.
"Signal, sir," says the cadet, referring to his fleet signal-
hook ; "137- -get under way."
A word from the Executive Officer, and the steam-winch
rolls in the cable. A touch upon an electric button, a
rattle of jangling bells, below, and the mighty engines turn
slowly over, taking
the strain off the cable,
and sending the ship
tip to her anchor. An-
other string of flags
runs to the signal-yard
of the flag-ship.
"Form column of
vessels," reads the ca-
det from the signal-
book, "natural order."
A minute later the
North Atlantic Squad-
ron, Admiral Bunco
commanding, is .ste.-mi-
ing in single Hie out
toward the Narrows,
the flag-ship JVeu1 York
leading, followed by
the Miiim-ii/xiUs, i'i>-
liiniliii/, L'iilcii/li. Mont-
gomery. i.'nnliinii. Eric-
sson, and titiliito A
SIGNALLING FUOM THE FLAG-SHIP
triangular shape swings point up half-
way between the deck and the signal-yard
of the Xeu- York. It means half-cruising
speed — five knots an hour — and tin- ..ih, i
ships repeat the signal. Silently, niaje.s-
tically, keeping their distances like sol-
diers on parade, the powerful steel crui-
sers and the agile torpedo- boats move
down the Conover Channel, around the
Southwest Spit, pa>t the Hook hell-buoy,
ont the Geduey Channel, and past the old
red light-ship to the open sea. Another
string of signals rises on the flag-ship, and
the answering pennants flutter on the
other ships while the signal-book says,
"Form double column."
Every ship knows her place, and in a
few minutes the right wing is made of the
Minneapolis. Montgomery, 1'unhini/, and
Stiletto, and the left of the others, the
flag-ship at the head aud in the centre.
The speed is now up to the full cruising
limit — ten knots an hour — and as the
ships go rolling and bowing over the
Atlantic swells, their keen prows send up fountains of sil-
very foam that spread away on either bow iu streamers
of snow on the living blue. The flag- ship signals the
course, aud again the others answer with the pennant of
perpendicular red and white stripes. The quiet of an
orderly sea-march settles down over the fleet, yet never for
one instant, night or day, does vigilance relax, for at any
moment signals may break out on the flag- ship, though
they be nothing more than some vessel's number to warn
her that she is
out of position
But other sig-
nals do appear,
for this is no
holiday cruise,
but one of prac-
tice and ceaseless
drill. Fleet tac-
tics are executed
almost without
rest. "Form line
of battle, wings
right and left
front into line ;"
'" By vessels from
the right front
into echelon,"
" Front into line,"
"Squadrons right
turn," •' Form
line, left wing
left oblique,"
"Form column,
vessels right turn.'1 and do/ens of other orders are given
by the flag-ship, and executed with precision aud accuracy
which would amaze a land.-man, but which probably fall
far short of the high ideal iu the Admiral's mind. Empty,
paradelike ruana-nvres these would seem to the ignorant,
but it was the skill of his captains iu the execution of such
movements, combined with their knowledge of his plans,
that enabled Nelson to hurl his fleet upon that of Ville-
neiive at Trafalgar with such fatal accuracy after hoisting
only three signals to the yard-arm of the I'ictori/.
In the darkness of a clomh night one of the ships is de-
tached with secret orders. She is to indicate an enetin'.s
force, aud to fall upon the fleet at some unexpected hour
the next day. From the moment of her departure the
lookouts on the remaining ships doubly strain their eyes,
and not a spar rises above the horizon that, is not studied
with all a seaman's skill. In the first dog-watch of the
next afternoon, when the sailors forward are amusing
themselves with pipe and song, the lookout in the forciop
cries,
" Steamer ho!"
FIKl.NG FHO.M TUi: MILITARY TOPS.
988
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
In answer to the questions of the
officer of the watch, he says the
smoke looks like that of a cruiser.
The yew York has seen her too, and
the next minute signals fly at her
yard-arm. The Captain noils, and
the hollows of the ship are tilled
with the sharp beating of a drum,
the shrill screeching of boatswains'
pipes, and the sound of heavy voices
bawling, "All hands clear ship for
action!" That is a thrilling cry,
even in time of peace, and half-
slumbering sailors spring to their
feet with staring eyes and panting
breath. Marines rush to the arm-
racks to get their rifles, belts, and
bayonets. Officers buckle on swords
and revolvers, and spring to their
stations.
And now begins a brief period of
bustling activity, which to a lands-
man would seem like confusion it-
self confounded. Boats are lashed
around with canvas to keep splinters
from flying, extra slings are rigged
on yards and gaffu to keep them from falling to the deck if
struck by shot, breastworks of hammocks are made on
bridges, forecastle, and poops, stanchions and rails are sent
below, and everything that can be removed is taken from
the deck so that the guns may have a clear sweep. The
magazines and fixed ammunition-rooms are thrown open,
and the men of the powder division take the stations al-
lotted to them for keeping up a continuous supply of am-
munition to the
whole battery.
Hatch-covers are
lifted, shell-whips
are rigged for
hoisting away the
heavy charges for
the big guns, and
chutes are placed
for sending empty
carl ridge - cases
below. The men
belonging to the
lighting - tops go
aloft and hoist
ammunition for
their guns. The
crews of the main
batiery open the
breeches of their
great weapons,
sponge out the
chambers, insert
the big steel
shells and powder
cartridges, and stand waiting for orders.
At last all is ready, and the division officers report to the .
Executive Officer, who in turn reports to the Captain.
The flag-ship signals tin- order for the formation for
attack', and then at" full speed the vessels dash forward.
Signals follow signals, and tin- ships go through swift and
graceful evolutions, until the Admiral's programme has
been fully carried out. Then the vessel that was detached
to represent the enemy lowers over her side a pyramidal
target of white canvas with a black spot painted in the
centre, she steams back to her position in line. Now the
vessels in turn glide slowly along at a distance of 1000 or
1800 yards from the- target, and t In- thunder of great guns
fairly shakes the heavens, \\hih- the massive steel projec-
tiles sti ike the water around the target, and thrash it into
glaring geysers of milk-white foam. It would be a sad
time for any hostile ship if she lay where that target is.
At last the target practice is over, while a great cloud ol
-ray smoke drifting slowly off to leeward, and the signal
LO.UHM; \ ma GUN.
" FORM DOUBLE COLUMN !"
"Secure" at the flag-ship's yard-arm, are all that remain
of the recent scene of action. Once again signals direct
the formation of the fleet in double column, and like some
giant duck leading a flock of monster ducklings across the
sea the Xeiv 1'urk swims away, followed by her Mcel com-
panions. This time the fleet steers for a harbor. Again
the red and blue flags blossom at the -Vcic York's yard-arm
like the magic flowers in the last scene of a fairy play.
"Two thirty -seven," reads the cadet from the signal-
book ; " anchor in column."
With the precision of carriages driven to a church door
at a wedding the big ships and the little torpedo-boats stop
at their proper stations, and the hoarse rumble of cables
through hawse-holes tell that the anchors have gone do\\ n.
All but three — for see, there go the three torpedo-boats,
spinning around on their heels, and gliding out of the har-
bor as silently and as swiftly as mice. There is to be a
torpedo-boat attack. This w ill be made under cover of the
darkness, and the anchored ships will strive, by means of
their search-lights, to detect the assailants. If the torpedo-
boat succeeds in approaching a certain ship within a given
distance without being seen, she is credited with having
sunk or disabled that ship, for that is what she would do in
time of war.
The night is intensely dark, and the blinding search-
lights pierce the blackness in every direction with their
shafts of dazzling white. 1'nder the shadow of the hind,
with every light extinguished, the tm-pedo-bnat.s. painted
a color which blends with I hat of the sea. steal noisele.-slv
toward the fleet. Suddenly they separate, and with light-
ning speed dash for-
ward. See ! a brilliant
light falls on one. She
is caught, and the firing
of rifles and Galling-
giins from the tops
shows that she is hotly
received. The other
two escape detection,
and make their presence
known inside the circle.
Red and while light;;
flash signals along the
main rigging of the Seie
York. The day's work
is over, and erelong
tired blue-jackets hear
the bugles blow the
welcome notes of the
tattoo.
The next morning
the flag-ship hoists the
'ALL UANItS OLKAK SHIP FOB ACTION I
9SO
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
signal for a landing-party. Boats are lowered away, and
.lack Tar prepares to go ashore as a seaman-infantryman.
With his brown canvas leggings, his brown belt and knap-
sack, his formidable rifle and bayonet, the sailor makes a
serviceable coast soldier. At a signal from the flag-ship
i lie- I mats are. hauled to the companion-ladders, and tin- mm
ponr into them. Kifles are laid down, and oars are taken
ii]i, for Jacky rows himself ashore. Another signal, and the
boats, shooting out from the sides of the ships, fall into
their allotted places. Again a signal, and the}1 start for the
shore, the oars in the rowlocks beating time to a sort of
sea-march. As the boats strike the beach the bugle sounds
the "assembly," and in a few minutes the battalion of
marines and seamen-infantry is formed. The band from
I be flag-ship strikes up " Nancy Lee," and with that invig-
orating swing that belongs to Jack Tar alone the battalion
marches inland, where it goes through all the evolutions
of tin- street riot and battle drills, and finishes with a dress
parade to the delight of all the boys in that part of the
land.
And thus from day to day the work of the squadron
goes on, the Admiral constantly propounding new topics
for its study; for no one knows better than a naval officer
the necessity of being ready for active service at a mo-
ment's notice. That readiness can be attained only by
obeying the good old maxim: "In time of peace prepare
for war."
BUTTERFLY BOWS.
BY MILDRED HOWELLS.
ONCE a little girl existed
Who was fond of pomps and shows,
And upon her braids insisted
Tying two great scarlet bows.
Though her father couldn't bear them,
And her gentle mother said
Thrtt she wished her child should wear them
Tied with modest bows instead.
Hut their wishes she made light of,
And her gaudy ribbons grew
Iligger every day, in spite of
All her friends could say or do.
Till this child, all counsel spurning,
Found with horror and surprise
That her bows were slowly turning
Into monstrous butterflies.
First they gently swayed and fluttered,
Then with spreading wings they flew.
Ere one sad farewell was uttered,
Straight into the welkin blue.
So she vanished; still her mother
Hopes those wandering bows will bring
Back her daughter, when the other
Butterflies return with Spring.
PUDDING!^
This Department is conducted i
be plenseil to answer any questio
address Editor.
? interest of l^irls and Ym
I the subject so far as pos
and the Editc.rwill
respoudeuU sliould
IT isn't a very hard task to set the table, is it, girls ?
Yet I find that it takes skill, taste, and pains to do this
simple thing so very nicely that the family coming to the
table three times a day will have the feeling that they
have been expected, and their comfort and pleasure planned
for.
ONE important thing to he considered when setting the
table is the table-cloth. This should be of fair white linen,
if possible, with a pretty pattern of ferns or blocks or clo-
ver leaves, but even if it be coarse, and not beautiful in de-
sign, it must always be spotlessly clean. Do not let the
laundress starch your table-cloth. No starch is needed. It
must, however, be ironed with exquisite nicety, folded even-
ly down the middle, and the crease made by folding shown
plainly by the pressure of the flat-iron. A table-cloth must
not be laid upon the bare table. Next to the table you must
have a heavy nudercloth of felt or Canton flannel. This
serves several purposes. It removes the danger of injury to
the table itself from hot dishes, which sometimes leave a dis-
figuring white rim or scarred edge upon a polished surface,
it deadens sounds, and it brings out well the pretty figures
on the cloth. If used with care, an nudercloth of this kind
will last a long time, and I have found Canton flannel much
more satisfactory than felt.
WHEN you begin to set your table for breakfast or din-
ner, decide on the places for the different members of the
family, and then do not chauge these except when you
have guests. Mamma will have before her the tray with
the cups and saucers, the tea things, and the coffee urn. I
hope yon make tea and coffee on the table; it is a graceful
occupation for the house-mother, and insures your always
having clear coffee, and hut, delicious tea, and is, besides,
very little trouble once the habit has been established. A
simple French coffee-pot with an alcohol lamp, a small tea-
kettle also with a lamp, a tea-caddy, and a rule always ad-
hered to, will make these processes simple. Cups aud sau-
cers aud the cream -jug, sugar- bowl, aud spoon - holder
should be beside the mother's place.
Oatmeal aud other cereals, if served on the table at
breakfast, should stand by the sister or brother who dis-
penses them. It is best to begin with a fruit course, and.
therefore, finger - bowls, fruit doilies, and plates, with the
knives, forks, and spoons needed for this, sliould be on the
table when the family seat themselves. If yon wish to
save trouble, and have the meal pass on in an orderly man-
ner, you may place by each plate all the knives, forks, and
teaspoons which will be required during a meal. These
will be used one by one, always beginning with that on
the outside, farthest from the plate, and as the maid changes
the plates for each course she will remove the knives and
forks which belong to that.
FLOWERS should form a point of beauty for the eye, aud
decorate every home table. You do not need many ; a
single rose or cluster of lilies, three or four pinks with
a few sprays of mignonette, a few stalks of sal via, a half-
dozen asters, with geranium leaves or lemon verbena, or
sweet- peas in the season, nasturtiums, golden and glow-
ing as llame, are very ornamental. A cut glass bowl, or
a clear bowl of pressed glass, if bright and free from
lint, a. china vase, or any pretty bouquet- holder will
answer for the purpose of holding the flowers, which must
be removed and replaced by others the moment they be-
come withered and faded; never keep dying or dead flow-
ers in any living-room, and, above all. never let them rc-
990
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
main an hour on your table. Wild flowers are the loveliest
things for ornamenting the table, and you may have as
many of them as you can mass effectively.
IT is optional— that is, you may do as you like about
the placing of food on the table. But I think the prettier
way, when it can be done, is to set the roast on the table
for the fathiT to carve, and serve the vegetables from a side
table. Salad, with thin wafer crackers and cream cheese,
is a course by itself. Dessert follows this; coffee comes
last at dinner, and you may ask people if you choose to step
from the table to the library, or the porch, if it be in the
summer-time, and sip their after-dinner coffee there.
PUETTY bread-and-butter plates, with knives of their
own, are a great convenience, and if you are saving up
your money as a family to give mother a particularly ac-
ceptable Christmas gift, why uot buy her a set of these?
/
This Department is romhu'U'il in the interest of Amateur Photnerapliers. nml th.' E.iitnr will
be pleased to answer HTIV question on the subject so far us possible. Correspondents sin ulil
address Editor Camera Club Department.
MARINES.
LAST year many of the pictures sent in labelled " Ma-
rines" were really landscapes showing, perhaps, a tiny
bit of water. A marine, strictly speaking, means a MM
picture, but when prizes are offered for marines, views on
lakes and rivers are always admitted, so that one need uot
necessarily send in a picture taken at the sea-shore.
Among the most attractive of marine views are those
showing a view of rugged cliffs with the surf beating
against them, where wave after wave " breaks on the rocks,
which, stern and gray, shoulders the broken tide away." To
obtain the most successful picture of such a scene one should
use a tripod, and get as clear a focus as possible. Get the
plate ready, set the shutter, and then wait till a big wave
comes rolling in, and, breaking against the rocks, sends the
spray high in air. At the very instant that it strikes the
rock snap the shutter, and if the exposure has been all
right, the picture will be everything to be desired of the
breaking waves. Use a small diaphragm (3°, being a good
size), and make a quick exposure. If the day is rather
dull use a size larger diaphragm and a trifle slower ex-
posure.
A stretch of sandy beach with the tide comiug in makes
a good marine, especially if there are plenty of clouds in
the sky. Such a picture must have some object in the
foreground in order to secure the effe'ct of distance and
perspective. A piece of drift-wood, an old wreck, or any
object of suitable size that one finds along the shore, will
do to break the level of the sand.
Marine views also include pictures of water-craft. Yachts
are the most graceful of water-craft, but the old dory is not
to be despised. One of the marines which took a prize
last year was entitled, " Stranded." It was the picture of
a once handsome yacht, which had been driven ashore by a
storm, and was lying partly on its side on the beach. Tin'
cloud effects in this picture were very good, and added
much to the beauty of the picture. The picture was well
taken, and the subject a rather uncommon one for a photo-
graph.
Another marine sent in last year was a picture of a light-
house, built on jagged-looking rocks, taken when the tide
was just coming in. Still another, which was nut strietly
a marine, was a view of a long line of vessels draw n up at
the dock. The picture had the effect of a street of ships
iustead of houses.
The prizes offered for marine and landscape \ir\\x :n.'
less than those offered for lignre si ndics. as marines or land-
scapes are usually much easier pninns to make than
figures.
The entry for" Marines "closes on Ori..l>. r Kith. I'm- after
that date there is usually little opportunity for making
successful water pictures. Be sure and gel your pictures in
at least a "week before this date. Take special pains with
the finishing and mount ing, as technical excellence is one
of the points for which the pictures arc' to be marked.
Sir. KNIOIIT JOHN H. CIIAMIIKKS says ilmt his last batch of negatives
were so black thai lie could get no prints, and asks if there is any way to
remedy them. The plates were developed loo long and are too dense.
This can be reduced by the following process: Cyanide of potassium,
% oz. ; water, 10 oz. Dissolve and add 2 drachma o£ bromine water.
Soak the plate in clear water tor :i tew minutes lill the film is softened,
'and then immerse in this solution tor :\ few seconds. Take out and
wash, and if the negative is still ton ili-nsr iniincix- il again. Repeat the
process till the film is reduced sufficiently. Label the bottle il Poison,1'
and keep it carefully locked up when not in use. One should li;ive :c
plate lifter.or use rubber finger-tips when handling the plates wiih this
solution. Sir John also says that the L'elatine gets black first on the side
next to the plate when developing. If the tray is Ut'pt gently ro-.king
during development the development should be from the top downward.
When the image is seen from the back of the plate it is supposed that
development has proceeded as far as it will, and llie plate is left in the
developer simply to acquire the proper densily. This can be judged by
looking through the plate toward the light, holding it rather near the light.
Sir John says he would like to start a Camera Club or Chapter, and wants
members of the club to write and send suggestions and also to join the
Chapter. We have several successful Chapters already, and would like
to have more among our members.
Sit: KNIOUT OCTAVE DK MAVJKCAO, P. O. Box S96, Middletown, Connecti-
cut, would like correspondence from Sir Knights or chapters interested
in photography. Will answer all letters, and would also like to exchange
photographic prints.
Siu KNIGHT HAKKV H. LIITUKR, of Nantucket, Massachusetts, says he
would like to become a member of the Camera Clul>. We are very glad
to add the name of Sir Harry to our club list. As he writes from Nan-
tucket, Massachusetts, we shall expect some fine marine pictures from
him for the runiing contest. Sir Harry a^ks for papers on retouching,
special toning, formulas, etc. These papers are ready for publication and
will soon appear.
ON BOARD THE ARK.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTER IX.
rPHE ex-Pirate very good-naturedly put his head under
JL the table and pulled the Gopher out from the pile of
debris and broken crockery. The little beast did not ap-
pear to have suffered any injury beyond tearing a gash in
his pink sun-bonnet, and as soon as he had resumed his
place at the table he looked about him and smiled just as
if nothing had happened.
" You don't seem to mind your fall a bit," remarked the
Sheep, somewhat surprised.
"Ob, I don't mind it at all," answered the Gopher, com-
placently.
"I thought yon would be dreadfully cut up." put in the
ex-Pirate.
"So did I, at first," continued the Copher: -but only m>
sun-bonnet got cut, and that was badh nit in the b. a
ning anyway, so that this extra slash dues not make- any
particular difference. And what do yon suppose' I saw
under the table?"
"Feet," said the ex-Pirate, at a venture
"That's pretty good for a first guess," retorted the Gopher;
" but I saw something else."
"What did yon see?" quickly asked Tommy, who was
beginning to feel that he had been out of the t. rei
quite long enough.
"I saw It," answered the Gopher.
"You don't say so!" exclainmd the' Sheep.
"Indeed I did. Do you want to pla\ a game?'
"Certainly. I'm getting awfully tired of sitting here.
Let's play a game."
991
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
•MY
"I wish yon would explain," broke in Tommy. "You
are talking about all sorts of things, and I can't understand
a word. Wliat is tliis all about ? What is it the Gopher
saw under the table ?"
"Why, lie saw It," answered the ex-Pirate.
"Well, what is that ?'' asked Tommy.
"Don't you know what It is?" exclaimed the ex-Pirate,
his eyes opening very wide with surprise.
"No, I don't." replied the little boy, bluntly, "and I wish
you would explain."
"Gooducss!" gasped the Gopher. "Where did you
come from ? Did not you ever play :iny games?"
"Certainly," said the little boy; "but what has that to
do with it?"
'• You could not very well play any games without It,"
insisted the Gopher.
" It, "declared the ex-Pirate very slowly aud impressively,
"is the one that runs after you when you are playing tag,
and the one that hides his face ami shuts his eyes when yon
play hide-and-go-seek."
" Oil, I've played those games lots of times," said
Tommy.
"Then you must have seen It," put in the Sheep.
"Never," said Tommy.
"How did you play, then ?" asked the ex-Pirate.
" Oue of us was it, of course," explained Tommy; "aud
when he caught another, the other was it."
"How funny," said the Gopher. "Why, with us It is
always It. That's the fun of the game."
"Of course it is," added the ex-Pirate. "I don't see
how you could play without It. We had an It on board
the Slack Arenger, and we used to play tag for exercise
when we were becalmed. But one day, iu a storm, It was
washed overboard, and we had to go without playing
games all thcTest of the voyage."
"How stupid of you!" remarked Tommy. "\Vliy did
mil you take turns being it?"
" Never thought of such a thing. "admit ted the ex-Pirate,
frankly. "You will explain to us how it is done, some
time, w mi'l VIPII .'"
" Wli\ . nl' eour.-e," replied Tommy. "I'm sure it's very
simple."
"Is it simpler than dominoes?" inquired the Gopher. "I
never could understand dominoes. You see, there's no It
in that, and that makes it so complicated."
"Yes, the lack of an It complicates games very much,"
said the ex-Pirate. "But let us play an
easy game now. Go down and butt him
out from under the table," he added, turn-
ing to the Sheep.
The latter obligingly jumped to the Hour
and disappeared under the table. A few-
moments later Tommy heard a thump, fol-
lowed by a whizzing sound, and then a
queer-looking something sped out from un-
der the table and slid along the floor as
though it had been shot out of a catapult.
"That's It." said the Gopher, uncon-
cernedly. Ami then they all got up and
walked over to where a new sort of a
queer creature, such as Tommy had never
seen before, was getting itself together af-
ter its encounter with the Sheep's head.
Tommy took in the peculiar features of
the new-comer as carefully and complete-
ly as he had taken in the other unusual
events of the day.
It was an undersized being that walked
on two legs, and corresponded somewhat
to the little boy's idea of \\hat a dwarf
ought to be, except that Tommy had always
thought of dwarfs as being round aud fat,
whereas this creature was exceeding! v
thin, almost bony, "by reason of his con-
stantly playing games," explained the ex-
Pirate. Its head went up almost to a
point, on top of which grew a little tuft
of hair, which Tommy at first took to be a
small fur cap; aud the utter lack of expression in his pal-
lid face hetokene.il that It had no understanding what-
ever beyond his own sphere of utility.
" Perhaps that's why he is willing to be it all the time."
thought Tommy. " I'm sure he does not look as if he kuew
enough to object."
By this time the Sheep had rejoined the group aud was
ready to pla\ .
"I don't want to play any game of chance, "said the ex-
Pirate w hen the Gopher asked what it should be.
"No; we won't have any game of chance," agreed the
Sheep.
"I don't see how you could," ventured'Tommy, " if It is
in the game. It strikes me that if It is always It, there is
no c/utitft' for him."
"Of course not," answered the ex-Pirate; "there's no
chance for him ever. But we don't consider him. ll'e
take all the chances."
Tommy did not understand, but this was nothing new to
him, and he, consented to play anything that would please
the rest.
They decided to have a game of Bumpolump. It took
the ex-Pirate fully fifteen minutes to explain to the little
boy how Bumpolump was played, and even then Tommy
never got a clear idea of it, and was unable to give his
Uncle Dick the slightest explanation of how it was done,
except that It had an inordinate amount of running about
to do, while the others seemed to get all the fun. And at
the end everybody got a prize except It.
" I should not think you would like this," said Tommy to
It. sympathetically.
" I don't," answered It. " I've gotten quite beyond that.
My life is one long pursuit of the unattainable. How does
it feel to succeed?"
T<i y, not knowing just what to say under the circum-
stanees, hesitated : hut before he could reply It continued:
" You see, I always apparently succeed in all I do — just
as in Bumpolump — but I never enjoy the fruits of success.
The others always get the prizes, and I have to start all
over again. Some day —
But just then an Ibex came along, aud saying " Excuse
me "to Tommy, he butted It up -to the other end of the
room, where a lot of little Ibexes aud Zebus immediately
began to hop about, apparently playing some game with It,
who was laboring:
with his utmost energy.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
992
*INTERSCHOL9\STICi:
WILL BE TWO SETS OF FOOTBALL RULES ill use by
J the college teams this fall. Yale and Princeton wiil
be governed by one code, while Harvard, Pennsylvania, and
Cornell will play their games according to another. The
official rules of last year will also stand, to be adopted by
the smaller colleges, the athletic clubs, and possibly by the
schools, although I should advise the schools to accept the
amendments made by the universities, and adopt either the
Harvard or Yale code, with a preference in favor of the
latter.
THE FIHST IMPORTANT CHANGE is found in Rule 8, and
relates to the fair catch. Yale and Princeton have it, that
a fair catch is a catch made directly from a kick by an
opponent, or from a punt-out by a player on the side having
the ball, provided the man making the catch does not ad-
vance beyond a mark which he must make with his heel,
and provided also no other player on his side has touched
the ball. The player is not required to raise his hand as a
sign that he intends to make a catch, and if he is inter-
fered with, or thrown by an opponent, he will receive fifteen
yards, unless that would carry him across the goal-line, in
which case he receives only half the distance. Iu the Har-
vard regulations the definition of a fair catch is the same
as the one just given, but the player catching the ball can-
not run with it, although he may pass it back to one of his
own side, who may then run with it or kick it. If this is
not done the ball must be put in play where the catch was
made. In case the player fails in his attempt at making
the catch, the opponents have an equal chance at the ball.
THE MOST RADICAL CHANGE made by Yale and Princeton
(and an excellent one) is in regard to mass plays. The
rule covering this point states that in scrimmages not more
than one man shall start forward before the ball is in play,
and not more than three men shall group themselves at a
point behind the line of scrimmage before the ball is put in
play, although the man playing the position of either end
rush may drop back, provided he does not pass inside the
position occupied by the man playing adjacent tackle be-
fore the ball is put in play.
As TO THE OFFICIALS OF THE GAME, Yale also makes an
innovation. This year there will be an umpire, a referee, a
linesman, and an assistant linesman, any one of whom may
disqualify a player under the rules, subject, of course, to the
approval of the umpire, who alone may be appealed to by
the captains regarding fouls and unfair tactics. These of-
ficials are also empowered to formulate ground rules prior
to each game, governing the disposition of the ball in case
it touch or be obstructed by some person or object snr-
rouudiijg the field of play, but the referee must announce
the rules as made to the captains before calling play.
IN THE TRIPLE ALLIANCE there are to be two umpires, a
referee, and a linesman, the umpires being judges of the
conduct of the players, the referee being judge of the posi-
tion and progress of the ball, and the linesman being judge
of time, and of the distance gained and lost by each play.
The umpires shall also see that no coaching is done while
the game is in progress, and they have the power to send
behind the ropes any substitute or other person who at-
tempts to advise the players while the ball is iu play.
OFF-SIDE PLAY WILL BE PUNISHED by Yale and Princeton
by the enforcement of the rule that says that if a player
when oft' side touches the ball inside the opp nt's ten-
yard line the ball shall go as a touch-back to the opponents.
These colleges further legislate that seven men or more
must be in the rush line until the ball has been put in
play, except in the case I have already cited, where the
ends may drop back.
IT IS HARDLY NECESSARY for me to say to every man who
is playing football this year that the lirsl thing for him to
do is to secure one of the new hooks of rules and study all
the changes that have been made. Space permits me to
make but a very brief mention here of a few of the innova-
tions. The man who is playing on the field, however, must
have every clause at liis finger-tips, and know the spirit
and the letter of the law by heart. Every scholastic league
should decide at once which code it will use this year, so
that the captains of the teams may begin to train their men
iu the new methods that some of the changes require.
THE TEAMS OF THE CONNECTICUT LEAGUE have been at
work for two weeks or more now, and several unimportant
practice games have been played. The Hartford High
School players started in with preliminary uulimbering at
Crescent Beach early in September. Only five men of last
year's team are back again, although Captain Bryant con-
lidently counted on six. Smith, who played centre last fall,
shot himself iu the foot recently, and will he laid up for
some time. Bryant, therefore, will try it between the
guards for a while, and if Smith comes back later, he will
be put in at tackle. Goodell will be the other tackle, while
Ingalls, the hammer- thrower, and Lyman will go in at
guards. The ends are much in doubt, lint Monahan, Ral-
yea, and Garvau stand good chances. Stnrtevant "ill
probably make quarter-back, while Chapman and Jenkins
will no doubt be found at half at the end of the season.
Lure, who did good work on the quarter-mile track last
spring, is the strongest candidate for full-back. On the
whole, the team is a light one.
THE PROSPECTS FOR A GOOD TEAM at Exeter are bright
this year, although so far no game has been arranged with
Andover. The old fend seems to be still on deck. (But I
.hope to devote some space to that bit of childishness later.
Now we are talking football.) Five of last year's players
are back at P.E.A. — Scaunell, K:is.son, llreen, (Jihhons. and
Hawkins. Scauuell is Captain, and besides being a good
player himself, he is able to put life into his men. He
graduated from the Newmarket High-School iu '89, and en-
tered the academy in the fall of '92. That season he made
the second eleven, and played a good game. In the spring
term he made the baseball team, and filled the position of
centre-field with credit to himself and honor to the acade-
my. He is a hard worker. He is a little heavy for tackle,
but liis quickness overcomes this handicap, and by the end
of the season he will doubtless train down.
CENTRE RUSH WILL BE taken care of by Kassmi. w ho did
nood work on the '94 eleven, and he will ha\e a veteran in
Breeu as his right guard, unless Connor proves a better
man. A candidate for tackle is Higley. \\lio held that
position last year for Audover. Another is Evans from
Lowell, who was Captain of his High -.School team last
year. During the season the school had a long string "t
victories and retrieved its reputation, which was fast
dwindling iu the defeats of the fn e |u. \ ion* \ . -ai - Evans
appears to be a brilliant man. but lie doe- nni know the
M • well enough to play at Phillips Exeter witboni a yreat
deal of coaching. He stands f> feel 10 indie.-, and weighs
170 pounds. For ends Gibbons. Shaw, and Robinson are t
most likely candidates. Hawkins. Martiu, and Botcher
993
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
will try t\n- quarter-back. Hawkins <litl good work last
year, ami is plucky, That he will not give up his position
without a tussle is very evident from his practice-work.
Martin, formerly of Andover, will press him hard. When
at Andover he played quarter on the second eleven, and did
good work: He is active and cool-headed.
FOR HALF-BACKS, J. B. Gibbons is sure of one position,
lie played an excellent game last year, and will undoubt-
edly develop further this fall. McLane will probably take
care of the other side. Whitcomb and Headdeu are trying
for full-back. Whitcomb is a swift runner, and distin-
guished himself last spring, when he smashed the school
record in the quarter-mile race. He is showing up well,
and plays a good game. Headdeu is uot so sure a man as
Whitcomb, and will require a great deal of coaching. The
Kxeicr team's lirst game of the season was played against
South Berwick on September 17th, and resulted in a vic-
tory for the crimson and gray by a score of 6-0.
IN THE NEW ENGLAND LEAGUE it looks as if there would
be a hot contest again this year for the championship.
Cambridge High and Latin has nearly all of last year's
team back. There will be only three vacant places in the
line, Baldwin, right end, Stearns, right guard, and Colum-
bus, left end, not having returned to school. Among the
new men with the squad are Hawes, Seaver, and Barnes.
The backs will probably be the same as last year, Camp-
bell, Curry, and Parker, with Saul for quarter-back.
LAST FRIDAY the Newton High-School eleven played the
Ilrookline High -School team at Brookliue to determine
which one should be takeu into the Senior League, the
former having been the tail-ender in the Senior League last
year, while Brookliue was an easy winner in its owu class.
The contest occurred too late in the week for me to be able
to comment on it here, but I hope to say something of the
game next time-
As TO THU TWO ELEVENS, Brooldine had a good nucleus
to build up on. Morse, Hutchins, Aechtler, Gillespie, North,
Lewis, and Cook are on deck, the latter as Captain. Hutch-
ins, who was one of the best centres in the Junior League,
last fall, will play the same position this year. He is quick
on his feet, snaps back quickly, and breaks through, well.
Gillespie, at right tackle, is another good man. He is quick
iu breaking through and smashing up the opponent's inter-
ference. North, who played end last year, has beeu moved
up to left half-back, where he is wiuniug new laurels by
his tine running and dodging. For the position of full-
back, Boyce, substitute on last year's eleven, has the best
chance. He hits the line hard and low, and is good at
punting. Two new men, both named Talbot, have secured
the position of right and left guards. They are brothers,
and know little about football, but since, the beginning of
hard practice they have developed wonderfully under care-
ful coaching. Seaver and Parker are both trying to make
quarter-back. Parker, though handicapped by his light
« eight. 1 Is pounds, has proved himself the best man for the
place so far.
NEWTON'S TKA.M, on t.he other hand, is badly handicapped
by the loss of most of last season's players, and the new
mi'ii do not seem to be built of the stuff that, grabs cham-
pionships. Captain Lee is beyond question the best man
on the team. He is a, veteran in his position of centre
rush, and is an earnest and conscientious worker. He has
been obtaining a lot of good coaching as a candidate for
the Newton Athletic Club's eleven, and the points he has
thus picked up he has taught his men. He is 5 feet 10
inches in height, and weighs 1*0 pounds. He is an ag-
gressive player, and quick to take advantage of an oppo-
nent's weakness.
OF THE NEW-COMERS he has got to lick into shape, How-
ard is the most promising candidate. He is trying for the
positiou of right guard, the place left vacant by Paul, who
was the star player of last year's team, and who is trying
for a place in the line of the Newton Athletic Club this sea-
sou. Howard, while rather slow on his feet, has the mak-
ing of a good player. Van Voorhees will be found at left
guard, and Brigham, who gained much experience on the
Newton Athletic second eleven last year, will prove a for-
midable man at left tackle. He is quick in getting through
the interference, and tackles hard and low.
THE OTHER TACKLE will probably be Johnson, who is
pretty light for such a place, but his activity may make
up for other deficiencies. Colbing will make right end a
hard place to get a gain. Forssen, a new man, will go
in at quarter, while the halves will be Chase and Burdon.
Chase is the surest ground-gainer, and can lie depended on
to advance the ball every time it is given to him. Burdou
is good for aronud-the-end plays, as he is a fast runner,
good dodger, and uses his blockers to the best advantage.
His chief fault is in uot starting the second the ball is
snapped. Bryant is pretty sure of full-hack, as he is the
best punter on the team. He runs low and hard, hut is
apt to fumble.
WHAT HAS WEAKENED the Newton team more than the
lack of old material, however, is the preference the candi-
dates for positions on the eleven have been showing for
tennis. For the past ten days a tennis tournament has
beeu in progress, and many of the football-players have
been trying for the prizes there in preference to practicing
with the eleven on the school grounds.
THE INTEREST IN FOOTBALL and baseball has always
been greater in the New England schools than in almost
any other, as I have frequently found occasion to mention
in these columns. An additional proof of this fact, if any
such proof were needed, is that the Boston English High-
School, besides putting a strong school team into the field,
is supporting class teams. The class of '98 especially is
doing good work in that direction, and intends to arrange
games, if possible, with all the first-year classes in Boston.
Such teams are bound to be a good thing for the institu-
tions that have them, as there is no better way of develop-
ing material which will eventually prove of vast benefit to
the first team.
THE KICKING GAME of the present .will he taken advan-
tage of by the Cambridge M.T.S. eleven, for Captain Mur-
phy has among his new men as good a punter as there is
on any team. This man is Yeager. Last year he made
some reputation by returning for Brewer and Fairchild of
the Harvard eleven in their practice before the Spring-
field game. After catching the longest punts he would
return the ball by a punt of the entire distance. As a
rusher Yeager has not such a good reputation, but with
White and Thompson as side partners he will easily be
brought up to the standard. Another good man that Cap-
tain Murphy may rely upon is Seaver, who used to go to
Brown and Nichols'. He has of late been practising with
C. H. and L., and will try for an end on the C. M.T.S. team.
La*t year he broke his arm at the first of the season, hut
his play improves daily. Brown, who tried for an end in
'94, is out agaii. for the same position. Francis and Young
are other candidates for end. All these men are light,
wiry fellows, but seem to have ability, which needs only
careful coaching to bring it out.
THE OTHER MEN BEHIND THE LINE give promise of de-
veloping into clever players — Sawiu especially. He did
well at quarter-back a season ago, but his light weight
makes him practically useless in interference, and easily
stopped when running with the ball. But he is pln<K\,
and that counts for much. White and Thompson will be
the halves, the latter coming in from full-back, where
\Vager's punting makes it necessary to keep him. White
developed into a speedy rusher last year, and was always
in place in the interference. He has a peculiar style of
running, and when he strikes the line whirls around; but
nevertheless he proved a ground-gainer in last season's
games. Thompson is a veteran. He gains the most grouud
994
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
when figuring in centre plays, but this year
he will lie trained for runs around the end.
THE PLAYKRS for the vacancies are an en-
terprising lot, who, with proper training, can
be moulded into shape. The men for the
forward positions are Hazeu, Hayinan, and
Hums for centre, and Frye, Gray, and Whit-
ney for guards. Hazeu is a big fellow, but
has never played innch, while Bnrus, though
eight pounds lighter,has played off and on
for the last two years. Frye played full-
back on the Salem High-School team last
year, but is better qualified for a line posi-
tion. He is a strongly built fellow, and
•weighs 168 pounds. Gray, a substitute in
'94, will try for guard again this year.
Whitney, another candidate, tips the scales
at 162 pounds. This is a light team, take
it all in all, but there are lots of good stuff
in it, and with good coaching ought to
carry the C.M.T.S. colors pretty well to the
top by November. THE GRADUATE.
RASPBERRY AND COCOANUT
CREAMS.
HERE are two receipts for delicious can-
dies that yon will like to make, but
they will require, as many candies do, con-
fectioner's sugar for kneading purposes. A
pound of this will be enough to buy at first.
Add to a dessert-spoonful of raspberry jam
enough confectioner's sugar to make a paste.
If the flavor is not acid enough add a tiny
bit of tartaric acid, crushed very fine. Koll
the sugar and jam into small balls with the
palms of your hands. Then take some of
tin- hardest fondant that you have and melt
it in a cup in boiling water, just as you did
in making chocolate creams. Add a drop
or two of cochineal coloring to make it a
pale pink. Now dip your balls in this
exactly as in the chocolate creams. If the
lit tie balls are not smoothly or neatly covered
they can be dipped twice, allowing HUM
enough for the first coat to harden. For
cocoannt creams take two table-spoonfuls
of grated cocoaunt and dry it in a cool oven,
or you can use desiccated cocoaunt instead.
Work the cocoanut well into half as much
fondant candy, and then .shape into balls,
using confectioner's sugar to stiffen tlie mass
sufficiently for handling. Melt some fon-
dant, flavor it with vanilla, and dip the balls
in it, as directed in the other receipts. Dip-
ping the candies twice will probably be the
rule, as they will rarely look smooth enough
after the first coating.
A CLEVER SUGGESTION.
book -agent who really means to
_ make his way in the world has to be a
person of an inventive turn of mind. Peo-
ple rarely want to buy the books he has to
sell, and it is his hard fate often to have
to argue long and strongly in favor of his
wares. The most ingenious of these hard-
working people that has yet come to notice
is the one told about by one of the London
papers. The agent in question had a vol-
ume to sell that did not go off exactly like
hot cakes, and at one particular house he
was met with a most decided rebuff.
" It's no use to me. I never read," said
the householder.
" lint there's your family,'' said the cau-
,'asser.
"Haven't any family — nothing but a
at."
" \\Y11, yon may want something to throw
i! the cat," suggested the agent.
The book was purchased.
A NOVEL FLY- CATCHER.
EVERY year some uewscheme is brought
forth for the purpose of catching flies
and relieving housekeepers of the buzzing
ittle nuisances. But up to date nobody
lias ever thought of employing a mouse in
:liat capacity, until a certain ambitions
mouse proved his talents for that sort of
liing. It is not known positively whether
all mice have a taste for flies, but it is cer-
tain that one particular little representa-
tive of the mouse family has gained great
fame by the able manner in which he has
lisposed of all the insects within reach.
The Shepherdstown (West Virginia) Si-f/ixiir
has sung his praises, and he is quite a noted
character in that town. This mouse made a
hole for himself inside llie sho\\
a drug-store in Shepherdstown, and when a
number of llies were alioul Ins nun
appeared from his abiding place li luaf
teled not ho\\ ]ll;MI\ people si ood \\illlill
the store or blocked the pa\enient outside.
He seemed to know thai he would noi In-
lesled. and devoted himself exellishely
to the fly-Catching business. Standing mi
his hind-legs, \\ith his forcpaw.s resting
against the glass, lie would grab a tlv and
then retreat behind sr • boxes and eat n.
Again llr \\olllit eateh the illseet while on
I lie \\ ing. jumping into the air and dealing
it a blow with one tiny paw, but quick as
thought in securing his prey. lie would
eat all of the fly except tin- wings with the
greatest relish, and after one of his la.ds
the window- would be covered with tin die
carded wings of his victims. It would lie-
quite interesting to get the opinions of this
little hunter in regard to his unusual diet.
and find out whether he looked upon tlies
in the light of ordinary beefsteak, or re^aid-
ed them as delicacies, sueh as quail on toast
or terrapin.
ADVICRTISTCIVIJCNTS.
Highest of all in Leavening Strength. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report.
Baking
Powder
ABSOLUTELY^URE
Say, Boys !
We cfo Co
GLOVES
" Conrooissier" "Dent, All-
croft S- Co.," and " Fowncs."
" Courvoissier's" four=
button Glace Kid, all shades,
$1.50 per pair.
MEN'S DRIVING GLOVES
\
J
NEW YORK.
<J'J3
We have been telling you about the
"Rugby'Watches
fur sume time.
If you have not sent for the
"Rugby" Catalogue, you are
pretty late. It is your mi-fortune.
Turn over a new leaf and send at
once. You will have your eyes opened
when you see the beautiful designs
on the cases. The catalogue tells all
about thrui.
The Waierbury Watch Co.,
203 \Vaterburv, Conn.
• FREE.' • oictink
Ipuult, PfTil'l b-ulp. I'.xkcl CAmtrK UI..I
I \V;r.' I'llt- '
lUl.il. Tot*l Valil' •"->,- .-.ntfrfr with Iralnrn".
ciiaoeD* o .
H
'
class fied, and in
.will l.e sent by mail to any ad-
CATALOGU
Lcnls. WH I HUUUU
E
ItafllictKl »ith
SOStEYJS
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
'cycle route.
Fair bt'cyc/e r
station-
road.
BICYCLING
Copyrlghtj 1895, by Harper 4 Brothel
This Department IB conducted in tile interest of Bicyclers, and ttie Editor wilt be pleased to
answer iiny question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain iniicli valuable data kindly
supplied from tile oltidal maps and road -books of the League of American Wheelmen. Recog-
nizing the value of the work being done by the L A. W.. the Editor will be pleased to fun ish
subscribers with membership blanks and Information so far as possible.
T1HE fourth stage of the shore-line trip from New York
to Boston is a short one, of not more than twenty-eight
miles, extending from New London to Shannock. Leaving
the Pequot House, if that is the point where you have put
up at New London, you should proceed into the city of
New London along the trolley-car route, go at once to the
ferry near the railway station, and cross to Oroton. There
are two routes from here eastward. It is possible for you
to either turn to the left immediately on arriving on the
Groton side of the Thames, and proceed some distance up
the river (less than a mile altogether), turn to the right,
and run over through Centre Groton, Burners Corner, and
so on, following the secondary route marked on the map
through Mystic, and joining the main bicycle road again at
Stoningtou. This route is, however, not only more hilly,
but, the road is in a poorer condition, and passes through a
less-picturesque country.
THE rider should therefore proceed direct from the ferry
along the turnpike-road to Mystic Bridge, passing over
Poquonock Bridge. Crossing the Mystic River at Mystic
Bridge, the road continues direct to Stoniugton, a dis-
tance of about ten miles from New London. If you are
making the journey to Shanuock in one run — in a morn-
ing, for example — and if you have determined to reach
Providence before night, you can make a short-cut, after
crossing the bridge leading into Stoningtou and before
crossing the railroad, by turning to the left and joining
the turnpike-road again a mile or more out from Stoning-
ton. From here on the road through Wequetequock is in
fair condition, though it is not of the best. In case you
run into Stonington and make a stop, you should run out
onto the main road by Matthews Street. The road from
Groton to Stonington is in parts remarkably good, and,
especially at this time of year, the whole, route as far as
Westerly will be found to be a good bicycle run, if the side
path is occasionally resorted to between villages. Cross-
ing the river at Westerly you are now in the State of
Rhode Island. Thence proceed through Potters Hill, Laurel
Dale, Ash way, to Hopkinsou. From Hopkiuson on to Shan-
nock, a distance of between seven and eight miles, the road
is hilly in parts, and by the time the rider has passed
through Woodville and Caroline Mills, and run into Shan-
uock, he will be ready for a rest, at least for some time,
e.spceially if he has ridden all the hills at a good speed.
It should be remembered, as was said last week, that
this run, which is not more than twenty-eight or twenty-
nine miles at the most, can be made half a day's run, and
the journey thence continued to Providence. Shannock
would be about half-way, and the two routes might be
done in one day, and can easily he so done by any rider
who cares to do between fifty-five and sixty miles. It is
by no means a long ride, and probably yon will be much
more comfortable in Providence overnight than in Shan-
nock. At the same time, following out our plan of making
short, easy trips, and taking it for granted, as we have done,
that the average rider goes for pleasure, with time enough,
at his disposal, we shall divide this distance into two
stages.
MOTH— Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of
route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
Connecticut, in No. 611. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New
Jersey from Honoken to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814.
Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816.
Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsle to Hudson in
No 818 Hudson to Albany in No. 819 Tottenville to Trenton in 820.
Trenton to Philadelphia in 821. Philadelphia in No. 822. Philadelphia
\\>-:ihiclcon Route in No. 823. Philadelphia to West Chester in No.
824 Philadelphia to Atlantic City— First Stage in No. 825 ; Second
Stage in No. 826 Philadelphia to Vineland — First Stage in No. 827.
Second Stage in No. 828. New York to Boston— Second Stage in No. 829 ;
ThhdStageinNo. 830.
996
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
SOME DON'TS FOi! BICYCLERS.
BY WILLIAM IIEMMINGWAY.
DON'T try to do too much. Ambitiou
to sliine as a " sturdier " has seriously
injured tile licaltli of many :i yooil. strong
rider. Probably no form of exercise is so
full of temptation to over-indulgence as
is wheeling. Except during the moments
of hill-climbing, it, is so easy to send the
machine spinning along.
How often you hear riders say • " I'm
feeling languid and draggy to-day. Can't
imagine what's the matter. Had a splendid
ride of sixty miles yesterday." Isn't that
explanation enough ? The effects of too
great fatigue often last as long as life it-
self. If the muscles alone were concerned
it wouldn't matter so much, but the great
trouble lies in another quarter. There is
always danger of injuring the heart. One
can recover from a strained muscle or
sprained joint or broken bone, but let the
heart be once badly strained, and you may
be sure that the evil effects will last a life-
time.
Is there a way of knowing when one has
ridden enough? Yes. \Vht-neveryou feel
that you couldn't dismount and run a quar-
ter-mile at good speed, it is time to stop
wheeling. Better get off and take a rest.
Better still, put away tin- wheel for the day.
There will be many other days, and you can
enjoy them all the more if you have a
sound heart.
Don't wheel up a steep hill. Leave that
sort of thing to fellows who haven't enough
sense to go in when it rains. What gain is
there in it, anyhow ? You can walk up and
push your wheel just as fast, and with one-
quarter of the exertion. If too much wheel-
ing on tin- level road is bad, too much hill-
climbing is ten times worse. If you could
look into the minds of the smart hill-climb-
ers, you would liud that they half kill them-
selves to make bystanders think they are
wonderful riders. Really, that sort of
thing is too silly to talk about with pa-
tience.
Don't coast too much. If yon feel that
life without coasting is a mockery, then go
to some hill that yon are thoroughly fa-
miliar with, when' there are no crossings,
where you can watch the road for at least
one hundred miles ahead, and then take
care. No matter whether you have coasted
down the hill a hundred times before or not,
the danger is always just as great. Perhaps
we are never in so great peril as when we
think we know it all.
Don't "scorch" in the streets. At any
crossing you are liable to ruu over some
pedestrian or to collide with a big truck or
carriage. Either one may mean a life lost,
or at least broken bones. You wouldn't
drive a horse at a 2.40 gait through the
streets. Remember a bicycle in quite as
dangerous.
Don't ride on the left side of the street.
Yonr place is ou the right side, because a
bicycle is a vehicle in the eyes of the law,
having the same rights and subject to the
same rules as any other vehicle. If any-
thing happens to you because you are on
the wrong side of the street you cannot re-
cover damages.
Don't think, because somebody you kuow
has wheeled .-i " century," that yon must do
it too. There is really very little satisfaction
in riding one hundred miles merely for the
sake of saying that you have done it. If
any other wheelman chooses to tire his
mnsrli-s and overstrain his heart for a mere
bit of boasting, let him do it. I know that
most of us are sorely tempted by the " cen-
tury" folly. But think a moment. If you
owned a fine thoroughbred horse, would vou
run the risk of ruining him forever In
speeding him to the utmost limit of his
strength for a whole day ? Yet is not your
o\\ n health more valuable to you than all
the horses in the world?
Don't let your cyclometer be your mas-
ter. Make it your servant. Don't think,
"I have wheeled thirty - seven miles to-
day, now I'll run a mile and a half up
the road and back so as to make an even
forty." Use the cyclometer to find out how
soou you must stop, not how much further
yon must go.
Don't neglect your wheel. Because it
doesn't eat is no reason why it should be
starved. It needs oil. It should be cleaned
regularly after every ride. Be sure that all
tin' bearings are oiled at least once for ev-
ery one hundred miles travelled. In hot
weather the oil runs off faster. Lubricate
your chain every time you go out for a
spin. See to it that the dust-caps are all in
perfect order. Dust wears out bearings
much faster than ordinary use.
Don't go out in the late afternoon with-
out a well-tilled lamp, especial!}' if you live
in New York. Think of the scores of wheel-
men who have been fined for riding at night
without lights, to say nothing of the danger
of going milighted.
AN OUNCE OF PREVENTION
is cheaper than any quantity of cure. Don't give
children imirotirs tn- sedatives. They are unnecessary
when the inl'ant is properly nourished, as it will be if
brought up on the Gail Burden Eagle Brand Con-
densed Milk.— [.Jdv.]
ADVIORTISP^IETSTTS.
You See Them
Everywhere
'""HNIIIIIIIIllll
Satisfaction and
Speed in
Columbia
Bicycles
The famous Hartford Single-Tube
Tires with which Columbia Bicvcles
are equipped add much to the pleas-
ure Columbia riders have in biev-
cling. Even the dreaded puncture
loses its terrors with Hartford
Single-Tubes. Repaired in a min-
ute. Anyone can do it. Dunlop
tires, best of double tubes, if you
prefer.
POPE MFG. CO.
.
THE LUXURY OFl
SECURITY IS I
FOUND IN THE
DELONG PAT-
ENT HOOK AND
RICHARDSON G-DEtONG
BROS. PHILADELPHIA
"Napoleon"
Handsome,
instructive.
One of the new
Parker
Games
For Boys and
Girls.
"Innocence
Abroad,"
" Waterloo,"
" Chivalry."
•• Yankee
Doodle."
ASK FOR THEM.
postage Stamps, fcc.
M'xe(l Foreign Postage Stamps, including
Fiji Islands, Samoa, Hawaii, Hong Kong, for
34c. in stamps ; 10 varieties U. S. Columbian stamps,
25c.; entire unused 5c. aud lOc. Columbian Enve-
lopes, 25c. the pair. Only a limited number were is-
sued by U. S. Government. E. F. GAMES, Box 2631,
San Francisco, Cal. Established, 1S72.
SHIPS
Send reference and 9c. stamp
for our tine approval sheets at
50* com. PEWN STAMP
CO., IVliid Gup, Pa.
Fine foreign stamps from China, Queens-
_ land, Tasmania, etc., all different, only
lu cents ; 25 nil different, Persia, etc., only 4 cents.
JUDSON N. BURTON, Madison, New York.
100 all dif.Veneznela.Bolivia, etc. .only 10c.;
am .-ill ilif. II nyli, Hawaii, etc., only ROc. A g'tB
w'l'dat5llperct.com. List Fit UK! ('.A.
Stegniaiin,r>941 Cote Briliante.si. Louis, Mo.
Mixed Australian, etc., 10c.; 1OS varle-
ties, and nice album, inc.: 15 unused. 10c.;
Ill Africa, Hlc.; 15 Ana,10c. l'.P.Vincent,Chatham,N.Y.
var. foreign stumps and price-list free for *2c. r-t;iii)p.
KXCKLSIOR STAMP CO., Keyport, N. J.
STAMPS. 100 for 1'2c.; 40 U.S., 25c.: no rubbish.
50% com. KEYSTONE STAMP CO., Lebanon. Pa.
FREE — 25 diff. Japan, Mexico, etc. Send 2c. stamp.
J. A. WILSON. 1108 Fail-mount. Phila.. Pa.
097
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Clever Camping Hints.
The Hound Table has interested me greatly.
Therefore I venture to offer the suggestions which
follow :
When camping on beach or in the mountains, on
prairie or in forest, it is a good plan to have in the
outfit a number of iron pins or stakes about half
an inch thick and twelve or fifteen inches in length.
Three of these should be driven into the ground
deep enough to ensure their staying upright, mid MI
near together that pot, kettle, or pan, and perhaps
the coffee-pot, will stand safely on the ends .if the
pins when the coals are glowing or the sticks are
blazing beneath. It will be found that this simple
kitchen range is for several reasons better than
any pole on forked stakes can be. and is incompar-
ably better than a c;nn|>-tir«- without some device
for ensuring the uprightness of pot or pan.
Many campers make their camp fires by laying
the sticks with the middle on the coals or the
blaze. The better wuy is to put the ends to the
fire. The fire can be managt d much more easily in
that way, by withdrawing a few slicks if the heat
is too great, or by pushing a stick or more in be-
tween the pins and under the cooidng- vessel if the
beat is not enough. Camp-fires are often made too
big for the needs and for the comtort of the camp-
ers.
I have seen a camp-fire made on the surface of a
broad lake, and far from the neareat land, yet not
in the canoe. If there had been a couple '.I shov-
elfuls of sand or earth, the fire might have been
made in the canoe. As it was, the Indian gathered
a few armfuls of green sedges and grasses and
threw them on the water, then made tbe fire on
the top of the heap, and soon had roast duck for
dinner.
An axe is a clumsy and a dangerous tool in o; e
and in camp. It is awkward in shape, and heavy.
It can be used for many purposes. but the mai-heii-
can be used for all the purposes for which an axe
is used, except for heavy pounding, and is admira-
bly adapted for many other uses. Millions of peo-
ple from Texas to Patagonia have long found the
machete an ever-ready tool.
Machetes are of many shapes and sizes. The la-
borer who clears trees and bush from land uses a
broad and heavy blade. It is some eighteen or
twenty inches in length, and may be. three inches
wide at its widest. The traveller will carry a ma-
chete which is like a heavy sword, and may be
straight like a rapier, or curved somewhat, like a
cavalry sword. This blade may be two feet or
even twenty-six inches in length. For camp uses I
should choose one like those the laborers use. A
leathern sheath with belt go with some classes of
machetes. With one of these an effective blow
can be struck for cutting brush, trees of moderate
size, or the flesh and bones of game. It will be
useful in skinning animals or in cleaning fish. In
short, there is scarcely any cutting about a camp
which cannot be done far better with a machete
than with the best of axes, and the price is the
same as that of an axe.
I have found no better bed than is made by hav-
ing a wide hem turned along the edges of very
wide canvas. Through these hems run slender
poles, that may be used during the day in pushing
a canoe over shallow waters. The ends of the
poles may rest in notches in two logs, to hold them
apart, or in crotched stakes driven into the ground,
and stayed apart by sticks lashed to them. When
not in service as a bed this cot may be used as a
tarpaulin to cover the baggage in the canoe.
SuUTHBBlDGIi.M.SS. B. W. PERRY.
Ube Music IRacfe.
SOME ANECDOTES OF PAGANINI.
Nicolo Paganini was a typical violinist. He ob-
tained a permanent position at the court of Lnca
in liis twenty-first year, after remarkable success
as a boy, and there composed such powerful con-
rerios fortnightly that Napoleon's sister, Eliza
Bacciocchi, was each time overcome when Paga-
nini reached the harmonic sounds. One day Paga-
nini announced to the court that he would shortly
play a novel love-song. He accordingly played a
wonderful sonata on two strings— 6 and E. G rep-
resented the lady, E the man. The court was car-
ried away with the beauty of the piece. At the
end the Princess Eliza remarked to Paganini,
"Since you have done so finely a thing on two
chords, can you make us hear something marvel-
lous on one?" Paganini smilingly agreed; and
after some weeks, on the day of St. Napoleon, exe-
cuted a brilliant piece on the chord C, which he en-
titled "Napoleone."
Paganiui, the elder, was an avaricious and un-
natural father. When Nicolo's gains had amount-
ed to twenty thousand francs the father threat-
ened to kill him if the whole was not given over.
But the mother was faithful, and after the father
had passed away Paganini said, "I took care of
my mother — a sweet duty."
Though loaded with honors given by the Pope,
the Emperor of Austria, the King of Prussia, and
others, yet the latter part of Paganini's life was a
constant struggle. He was of a delicate make-up,
and his whole being was wrapped, as it were, in his
violin. He met much opposition in his last years.
A favorite saying of his was, " One must suffer to
make others feel." Schottky affirmed that 1'aga-
uini possessed a musical secret by means of which
a pupil could obtain a conception of the capacities
of the violiu in three years. This secret, which Pa-
ganini himself declared he possessed, was never
given to the world.
Many compositions have been ascribed to Paga-
uini which are mere imitations. The few genuine
ones contain many grotesque turns which make
them all the more fascinating. Whatever may
have been the faults and weaknesses of tbe man,
as a composer Paganiui was a star among his con-
temporaries. "As a composer Paganini stands
very high. His works are rich in invention, genial,
and show a mastery of the scientific part of the
art.1' VINCENT V M. BEEDE.
mailed to all applicants about October 1st. There
has been a little delay in publishing the ROUND
TABLE Handy Book, but it will be ready October 1st
and forwarded to all who have applied for it. The
Handy Book contains thirty-six pages filled with
much useful information. Those who want Pat-
ents should ask for them, and in doing so send the
names of friends who may wish to belong to the
Order. Ask for a Pat run Patent for your teacher.
The Patents will be handsomely illuminated, foui
pages, and bear on the last page full information
about the Order.
Amateur Journalism.
The Easton, Pa., venture, which we spoke of as
Leisure Hour, came out at last as the Scribbler. The
September issue is most creditable. It is small, but
hopes to grow. We hope it will. Address Nor-
man Hart, Robert E. James, Jun.. or George F Wil-
son. 203.Northampton Street. The Eclipse, a bright
little paper published by F. H. Lovejoy, Weldon,
Pa., is larger now than ever— and better. The fol-
lowing-named want to receive copies of amateur
papers. Harry H. Luther, Hotel Gordon. Jamaica
Plain. Boston. Mass.; Charles E. Abbey, Chester. N.
J.; J.F. Barksdale. Hardy, Miss.; and Harry K.Whit-
comb, Umatilla, Fla.
Waller S. Beattie, 651 Madison Avenue, New York
city, writes.-
•• We desire original contributions for our paper,
Sports und Science, and offer a handsome book,
monthly, to the person writing the best short story,
poem, or sketch. All should join the Sports and
Science club, and receive this paper free. Send
two-cent stamp for postage to the editor for all
pan .iculurs and copy of paper.
W. s. BBATTIE.
Prizes for Short Stories.
HAKPEK'S ROUND TABLE offers five prizes for the
best stories of adventure written by a Knight or
Lady of the Round Table. Stories must contain
at least five hundred and not over fifteen hundred
words, actual count. The incident must be a prob-
able one, and the story well told, both in sequence
of-events and language employed. As far as prac-
ticable, type-write the story, but this is not made a
condition. At the top of the first page place your
name, age, aud address in full, the number of words
iu your story, and say where you saw this offer.
Do not roll your manuscript. Use paper about 5
by 8 inches in size , fold it or seud flat.
Prepay postage and enclose return postage. Ad-
dress it not later than December 25. 1895. to HAR-
PER'S ROUND TABLE, New York, and put in the left-
hand corner of the envelope tbe words 'Story
Competition." No story may be sent by you that
is not wholly original with you, aud none may be
submitted that has ever been submitted iu any
other contest. One person may not submit more
than one story. Criticism by grown persons is per
missible. The prizes are $25 each to the three
best, provided there are three good stories. If
there are not three good stories, the prizes will not
be awarded. We shall not award a prize to aud
print a poor story, even if it chance to be the best
received by us iu this competition. One of the
stories, either a prize one or otherwise, as we may
elect, is to be used in the Peu-drawing Contest, aud
printed, if good, with its prize illustration.
* * *
Prizes for Nonsense Verses
Nonsense verses are ridiculous jingles — the more
ridiculous the better. They may be four, six, or
eight Unas. Five prizes are offered by HARPER'S
ROUND TABLE for the best— that is, for the most
ridiculous. Each prize is : Fifty engraved visiting-
cards, in a neat box, with copper plate for future
use. Of course the cards bear the winner's name.
Competition open only to those who have not
passed their eighteenth birthday. Forward not
later than December 1, 1895.
* * *
About the Patents.
The new Patents and also the Prospectuses to
those who have asked for them, in order that they
may earn prizes for placing them iu the hands of
families likely to be interested in them, will be
998
A Visit to Robbers' Cave.
Several summers ago, when I was spending my
vacation at Leon Springs, we were sitting on the
porch toward evening when some one suggested a
visit to Robbers' Cave for the next day. In a few
minutes all those idle loungers had dispersed, some
to see about a guide and horses, others to make
arrangements for a lunch.
After an early breakfast we mounted our horses
and rode oft, leaving the lunch to be brought in the
surrey. When we reached the mouth of the cave
we were a rather jolted-up crowd, for riding over
hills in Texas is not ,ike riding along a road in San
Antonio. But by the time the surrey, with the rope-
ladder and torches arrived, we were squabbling
over who should go down first. To settle that we
drew straws, aud it tell to my lot to go down third.
The entrance to the cave was not more than six
feet round, and the boltom was reached after a de-
scent of twenty-five feet. Just half-way down
there was a landing that leads off to the upper part
of the cave.
We were first taken to the room that looks as if
it were full of statuary that had been slightly de-
faced. The most natural of these is a bust of a
veiled woman. Climbing over some rocks we cume
to the spring, which is about five feet in circum-
ference. In the centre is a miniature castle, with
its towers, turrets, and chimneys. The light from
our torches made it glisten like diamonds. If you
stand in the centre of the main cave and whisper,
you can be heard in all parts. We threw pebbles
limvn iu a shallow pit where we could see frogs
hopping about. May I write aud tell how the cave
came to be called by this name ?
SAN ANTONIO. P. V. R. LoCKWOOD.
Yes.
(Sluesttons anfc Hnswers.
Jules L. Steele : One competitor in the poern con-
test may send only one poem. The rule is so made
because it is better for competitors to put their ef-
forts upon one production than to attempt to pen
two or more. Harry H. Luther thinks the Order
should hold a reunion every year. Other members
say they think the same way.
A. F. MeC. : You may send only one poem in the
prize competition. It may be the one mentioned
as having been printed in a local paper. Send it
in manuscript, however.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Tills Dep.trtiii.-nt - . ..n.ln. led ill
collectors, and the Editor will be pleased n, iinswci nn\
these subjects so fur as possible. CorrespnudenU sbuuld add if • Editol
Stamp Department.
I NTEREST iu the uewly discovered varie-
1 ties of the U. S. stumps continues, iiiitl
lias led tt) the closer examinatiou of all
otberU.S. stamps, resulting in the discovery
of still other varieties. The latest is thr
lOc. greeu of 1861, a stamp catalogued at
5c. ouly, as it is to be found in large quanti-
ties, and almost every collector has or has
had many duplicates.
The lirst die was made
with the five stars at
the top of the stamp
in white on a back-
ground composed of line perpendicular lines
ill. It seems the plate soon
I I showed signs of wear at
the top, anil a new die was II III 1 1 1 I I I I I I
made in which the perpen- i I ' I Mil II 1 1 I I III
dicular lines ran into a solid curved line,
something like this.
The stamps printed from the original
plates an- t|iiite rare, one dealer limling
three only out of a lot of nearly five hun-
dred. The new variety is selling at vari-
ous prices, from So upward. A curious re-
sult of the new discovery has lieen the find
of some copies with the 1868 grill. Of course
the grill is counterfeit.
NEW JiKCRurrs ARE made daily to the ranks
of those who am devoting themselves to the
collection of unused U. S. stamps in blocks
showing the imprint and plate numbers on
the margin. Some of the scarcer 1890 and
1894 plate numbers are to be sold at auction
iu New York within a few weeks. This
branch of collecting offers special facilities
to those living in the smaller towns, as the
post-offices in such towns frequently have
sheets of stamps issued many years ago,
•whereas in the large cities the stamps on
hand are usually of tile very latest printing
only.
THE DLIKK OF YOUK is reported to have
sold his collection of postage -stamps to
Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild for $300,001).
F. L. POTTS.— Dealers offer 1S5T half-dime at lOc.
E. v. G.— Oiled paper, or paraffine paper, will pre-
vent stamps from slicking to each oilier. But the
ordinary "hinges" or "slickers" will not adhere to
such paper.
A.L.EVA MI. —U.S. cents are quoted as follows : 1S17
lOc.; the variety with fifteen stars at 60c. The other
cents mentioned from 5c. to 15c. each. Half -cent,
1S.M. lOc. Half-dollar, 1830, T5c.
\V F. T.— There are three varieties of the 1799 silver
dollar, worth $2, $3, $4 respectively.
RAM.— 1842 dimes are quoted at 20c. The 1S57 and
1858 ceiUs at Sc. each.
O. E. STUICI.E.— See answer lo"K;iui."
B. MAGKI.SF.N.— Performed stamps from the centre
as margin of a sheet, thus showing one side without
perforations, are not so desirahle as stamps having all
four tides perforated. Asa rule slumps should have
all paper soaked off the back. The only exception is
in the case of valuable stamps, when the entire envel-
ope should be kept.
PHILATUS.
Copyright, 1894, by The Procter & Gamble Co., Cin'ti.
ELISABETH ROBINSON SCOVIL, Associ-
ate Editor of The Ladies Home Journal,
and a Hospital Superintendent of experi-
ence, in her book, " The Care of Chil-
dren," recommends the use of Ivory Soap
for bathing infants, and says: "There is
no particular virtue in Castile Soap which
has long been consecrated to this purpose."
lAAABBBCCGDDDEEEFFF
GGGrjplUJJKKKLLLMM
felNOOOPPPORRRSSSTru
'WXXXYYYZZZMS
CARD PRINTERfflT
Sets any name in one minute; prints 500 cards an hour YOU can
make money with it. A font of pretty type, also Indelible Ink,
Type Holder, Pads ajjd Tweezers. Best Linen karker, worth Sl.oo!
Sample mailed FREK for lev. stumps for postage and parking on
outht and large catalogue of 1,000 Bargains in household articles
and novelties.
COMICAL i: r it i:i:ic STAMPS.
More fun than a barrel of monkeys. A complete set
of SIX grotesque little people, Policemen. Dudes and
Devils, with everlasting Ink parts. With them a boy ean
make a circus in a minute, Postpaid for l<> . , „,»
Address K. H. INGEII.SOI.I, .t JSIIO
Dept. Sio, 27. 65 Cortlandt St., Kew York.
SPALDINC'S
OFFICIAL FOOT -BALL GUIDE
Edited by Walter Camp. Contains the OFFICIAL
RULES, with the Yale and Princeton and the Har-
vard, Pennslyvania and Cornell amendments,
under which they will play. Also pictures of all the
leading players and valuable information. 10 cents.
Handsome catalogue devoted to all out-door sports,
and containing over 700 illustrations, sent free.
A. Q. SPALDING & BROS.,
Chicago.
Philadelphia.
BALTIMOREAN
lias earned more money for boys
than all other presses iii the mar-
ket. I'.oys, don't idle Hway your
time when you cilli buy a eelf-
iukine printing-press, type, and
romplele nulfit for $5.00. Write
for particulars, there is money
in it for yon.
THE J. F. IV. DORM AN CO.,
K.ihii,, ..,-,. Md., I .». \.
I1CACNESS & HEAD NOISES CURED
U t A I1"' "1V INVISIBLE Tubular i uahions. Have helped
• more to good UCAB'nS tHan all oilier de-
vices combined. Whispers nCMIla. Help ears 113 trasses
do eyes. F. Hlsrox, 858 B'dway, N.Y. BOOK of proofs TREE
Dialogues, Speakers, for School
Ohio and Parlor. Catalogue free.
T. S. Denison. Publisher. Chicago 111.
PLAYS
BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER
Little Knights and Ladies. Verses for Young People.
Illustrated. i6mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $i 25.
A volume of poems which are wholly suitable for children's read-
ing, and which will be quite as welcome to the children's mothers.
There is a womanly touch which will win for Mrs. Sangster hundreds of
admirers. — N. Y- Times.
A volume of ballads and lyrical pieces for young people by an
author who never tires her readers. . . . All are of high quality. — Phila-
delphia Bulletin.
The verses in tliis collection are excellent; all of them are sweet
and rhythmical. . . . Poetry like this is delightful ; it pleases and edu-
cates, charms and inspires. " Little Knights and Ladies" will meet with
a hearty welcome. — Brooklyn Standard-Union.
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York
999
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
HOP LEE AND HIS FAITHFUL MULE-AN EXCITING SCENE AT THE HOANG-HO FERRY.
JOHNNY'S IDEA OF A JOKE.
"PA, "said Johnny, as he watched his father filling cart-
ridges for his shot-gun, " wouldn't it he a joke to load one
of those cattridges with quiuiue pills and shoot a hear with
'em."
NOT A QUESTION OF
POVERTY.
"SPEAKING about little
folks," remarked I lie B shop,
after the dry-goods man had
gotten through with his
story of the bright thing
which his little four-year-
old daughter had said at
dinner that day — "speak-
ing of smart little folks, I
had an experience with one
quite a good many years
ago. It was when I was
candidating for my first
parish that I preached at a
little village down iu Penn-
sylvania. I was entertained
at the home of one of the
wardens. As I look back at
that sermon now it must
have been pretty vealy, but
I was well pleased with it
then, and my host praised
it so enthusiastically on the
way home that I felt tolera-
bly sure of an invitation to
occupy the rectory.
"My host had a bright
little five-year-old daugh-
ter, and she and I got to be
pretty good friends. While
I was waiting for the depot
wagon to come and bear me
away from the scene of my
triumph, the next morning,
the little girl suddenly rau
up to me with her little tin
savings-bank. The dear lit-
tle thing wanted me to open
the bank and take one-half
of the money for myself. I
thanked her and declined.
"What makes you think
I need the money, dear?" I
asked.
"Why, unffin much, only
when papa came home from
church yesterday I heard him tell mamma that you was a
miiililij poor preacher."
AN ERROR SOMEWHERE.
MY pa says if I don't keep still
Some time, I won't get strong;
But when I watch the moving sea,
And think how strong the waters be,
I sort of think he's wrong.
TEACHER. " Astronomy is a wonderful science, Harry.
Men have learned through it not only how far off the stars
are from the earth, but what they are made of."
HARRY. " It seems to me a great deal more wonderful
how they found out their names."
PAPA. "Are you sorry you hit Wilbur?"
BoBBy. "Yes, papa, and he is sorry too."
EXPLAINED.
"WHY, Howard, child, how did you cut yonr lip that
way ?" cried Mrs. B.
"Pla.ying," said Howard. "1 was playing I was a goat,
an' I tried to eat a tomatter can."
BOBBIE'S COMPLIMENT.
MY sister screws her face np
At all times wheu she cries;
But she can't make it ngly
However hard she tries.
BOBBY. "If you fell overboard while on an oceau steam-
er, what would yon do ?"
JACK (four years old). " I'd go to sleep on one of the
ocean's pillows."
A GENEROUS LAD.
"TOMMY!"
No answer.
"Tom-mee!!"
"Well?"
" What are you doing to your brother Willie ?"
"Nothiu'." '
"Yes, yon are. You are making him cry."
"No, I ain't — I'm bein' generous. I'm giviu'him half o'
my codliver-oil."
A VERY GOOD REASON.
" WISHT I was a codfish," said Jack.
" Why do you wish that ?" asked his mother.
"They don't have to take codliver-oil. They're born
with all they need already inside of "em," said Jack.
1000
HARPERS
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, by HABPBB & BROTHKES. All Rights Reserved.
gaps
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 832.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COFY.
TWO DOLLAUS A TEAK.
THE COPPERTOWN "STAR" ROUTE.
BY W. G. VAN TASSEL SUTPHEN.
THE Happy Thought, as will be remembered by those
who have rend "The Lougineadow Toll-Gate," was a
new departure in bicycle construction. Although provided
with pedals that could be used in an emergency, its real
motive-power was derived from naphtha applied through a
pair of cyliuders built upon a modification of the hot-air
priuciple, and working directly upon the rear wheel. The
oil was admitted drop by drop to the cyliuders, mixed with
air, and then exploded by a spark from an electric storage
battery. The speed was regulated by the flow of oil, and
the operator had only to touch a hand-lever to get any rate
he wanted from one up to thirty miles an hour. The power
could be instantly shut down either by closing the oil valve
or by cutting otf the electric current. Finally, the ma-
chinery bad but few working parts, and was therefore not
liable to get out of order, and in its operation it was abso-
lutely safe, there being no boiler, and consequently uo pos-
sibility of an explosion.
The Happy Thought, which had been built by Mr. March
for his sou Fred, was a double machine, the steersman oc-
cupying the front saddle and the engineer sitting behind.
Iu general appearance the Happy Thought resembled the
ordinary " tandem," the only noticeable dift'ereuce being in
its huge pneumatic tires, which were fully four inches in
diameter. The idea was that they would ride more easily
over rough roads, would not slip in mud nor sink in sand,
and would be less liable to puncture.
It was nearly a year since that memorable night when
Fred March and his partner, Jack Howard, had run down
the bank robbers, and the Happy Thought had saved the
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Jeffi rion Court-House Bank s-jn.nun in hard cash. Within
tin1 last six months copper of tine quality liad l>een dis-
covered in the bills west of Fairacre, capital bud been at-
tracted, a smelting plant was in process of erection, and
business was booming. The works of tbe Copper Com-
pany were situated sonic thirty miles away, and a large
force of men were working night aud day to get tbe plant
in running order. The company were building a branch
rn:id to connect with the railway that ran ten miles to the
«ast of Fairacre, but at present the only means of communi-
cation with the, outside world was the wagon-road, which
bad been constructed over Razor-Back Ridge. Tbe govern-
ment had been persuaded to establish a " Star" mail route
from Fairacre to the copper camp, aud Fred, with the as-
sistance of his father, had succeeded iu obtaining the con-
tract for himself and Jack. It was a semi-weekly route,
the trip days being Tuesdays and Fridays, and for two
mouths the Happy Thought bad run regularly between the
two places, leaving Fairacre at one o'clock in the afternoon
aud returning the same night.
It was shortly before cue o'clock on Friday, tbe 31st of
August, and the Happy Thought was standing in front of
the Fairacre Post-office, ready for her regular run. Jack,
oil-can iu baud, was giving a last look to tlie bearings,
•while Fred, with the mail-bag strapped to his shoulders,
stood by occasionally glancing at his watch. It was al-
most time to start, but the boys were also agents for the
express company, and Mr. Simmons, the Fairacre agent,
seemed to lie in no h'niTy about making up his consign-
ment.
"One o'clock," growled Fred. "I don't believe he has
anything for us to-day ;" and then, catching sight of a beck-
oning linger through the dusty window-pane, "Come on,
Jack, he wauts to see us both."
"This way," said Mr. Simmons, briefly, leading the boys
to the back room. The room looked into an enclosed yard,
but Mr. Simmons drew the curtains carefully. Then going
to his safe, he unlocked it, and took out a thick square pack-
age. " To-morrow is pay-day at the works," he said, slowly,
"and there's wages for three months coming to the men.
The company always has it sent up by express from the city,
and $10,000 is a tidy little sum," he concluded, tapping the
package gently with his knuckles.
"Of course we'll be careful," began Fred.
"In course you mean to be," interrupted Mr. Simmons,
gravely ; •• but I know what boys are, and you're awful care-
less about your receipts."
Fred blushed as he remembered an entry on the Tuesday
book for which they had somehow neglected to obtain the
necessary signature that acknowledged delivery.
Mr. Simmons slipped the package in the express bag,
locked it, and handed it to Jack. "Good-by and good
luck," he added, " aud be sure you get your receipt."
The bag with its precious freight was quickly strapped
to Jack's back, and a few moments later the Happy Thought
was ploughing down the dusty road at twenty miles an
hour
The distance to the copper-works was a trifle over thirty
miles, but at least twelve miles of it was steady up-hill
work. Once across Razor-Back Ridge, it was better tra\ el-
ling, and the Happy Thought generally made the whole, trip
iu a few minutes over two hours. The road was reasonably
smooth aud hard, but the afternoon suu was hot, and the
boys thought longingly of the cool woods that covered the
further side of the ridge. However, the Happy Thought
pushed steadily along, aud they had nothing to do but to
keep her on her course.
"Fifteen minutes late," said Fred, as they slid gently
over the summit, and slowed down to oil the working parts.
"But it's au easy run, now, and we'll be in Coppertown by
half past three — that is, if nobody stops us ou the way," be
added, with a short laugh.
"But you don't think — "exclaimed Jack, looking up.
" Of course I don't; but there may be more persons than
one who know of the money that's going through to-day.
There isn't a house between here and Coppertown, aud you
know that 'Smooth Jim' broke jail ten days ago, and is
with his gang again."
Jack looked disturbed.
"But I don't expect to see the gentleman, and anyway
we can run if we can't fight — eh, old girl f" and Fred gave
the Happy Thought an affectionate pat as he sprang into
his saddle.
"I suppose it's what we're carrying that makes me feel
nervous," thought Fred, as they rolled smoothly along in
the cool dense shadow of the beech-wood. "There's half-
way." he muttered a few moments later, as a blasted pine-
tree flashed past. " We are doing better now, and the
machinery is working like a watch. That was a great im-
provement to muffle the sound of the exhaust ; we run
along as quietly as a cat walking on velvet."
There was a touch on his shoulder,aud the Happy Thought
came to a dead stop.
" Against orders, I know," said Jack, leaning forward and
speaking under his breath, " but look back there."
The dead pine-tree was still visible some four hundred
yards away, but there was something fluttering from oue
of its branches — a piece of red flannel rag.
"A signal," said Fred, shortly, " aud it means that some-
body is after us — after that," and he pointed to the express
bag. " We've got to go ou, for some one is certainly behind
113. We can't stay here and be gobbled up, and a rabbit
could hardly get through that laurel scrub. Besides, there's
just a chance that it doesn't mean anything, after all. We'll
run ahead carefully, aud if it comes to the worst, we'll cut
everything loose and make a dash for it. There's nothing
short of a rifle-bullet that can catch us."
'• Let her go," returned Jack, briefly.
A quarter of a mile further, and the boys began to breathe
easier. They were on Breakneck Hill now, and there was
nothing suspicious in the look ahead. Half-way down, aud
as they swung around a curve Fred's heart suddenly seem-
ed to leap up into his mouth. His eye had caught the mo-
mentary gleam of something moving in the thick foliage
that bordered the road at the bottom of the hill. He recog-
nized it iu an instant — the silver mounting of a pistol. He
turned aud shouted to Jack.
"Crack! crack!" aud Fred felt the wind of a bullet as it
sung past. "Crack! crack!" but that was wider of the
mark. The Happy Thought under full speed had bounded
down the hill, and the danger-point was passed. He could
hear faint shouts behind him and the short quick tramp of
horses' hoofs. Was it possible that they had escaped ?
With fingers tightly clutched on the handle-bars Fred
kept the Happy Thought in the middle of the road. The
road-bed was smooth and bard, but the front wheel was
acting oddly. There was something that looked like a
white patch on the tire, and, yes, there could be no doubt
about it, it was leaking badly. Evidently the tire had
been cut by a bullet, aud in a few seconds more the air
would be out of it. Just ahead was a curve which for the
moment would put them out of sight; they must stop iu
time to take to the woods. In his excitement Fred put his
hand behind him aud shut off the oil. The Happy Thought
stopped just around the curve, and Fred jumped oft' aud
looked around.
•Jin-lc and the cxpresn Ixnj had disappeared.
In his bewilderment and dismay Fred hardly knew how
he managed to get himself and the Happy Thought under
cover before the pursuing horsemeu swept by at a slashing
gallop. There were four of them in all, heavily armed, and
with their faces half concealed by clumsy masks. Fred
recognized "Smooth Jim" in the leader of tbe party, aud
the sight was not reassuring, even though he was now
looking at that gentleman's back. Half mechanically he
got out his repair kit, and began to patch the leaking tire.
" Where was jack ?" was the question that seemed to dance
in letters of tire before his eyes. Could he be lying back
there in the road with a bullet in his head? Was he a
prisoner?
But wait a moment. If Jack was iu their bauds, why
had lir been chased? The money was in the bag strapped
to Jack's back, and the money was what they were after.
But wait again. Was he sure that the horsemen were pur-
suing him? Might they not have been making their own
escape, having secured their booty ? In that case Jack bad
1002
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
teen left behind, wounded or dead. There was but one
thing- to do, arid that was to steal cautiously back and find
out.
It had taken Fred some ten minutes to mend the tire and
come to this conclusion. At the point where he had made
his way into the thicket a small brook, locally called a
" branch," crossed the road, and he had been sitting on its
bank. As he rose to his feet he happened to glance up-
stivam. There was something floating down with the cur-
rent. Only a piece of bark. But stop! The little craft
carried a miniature mast made from a hazel twig, and in the
cleft at its top there was something white — a bit of folded
paper.
A signal! A message! Fred watched it eagerly as it
came nearer. Twice it grounded against an overhanging
branch, but the current swuug it clear again. A moment
more, and it was in his grasp. A note, and in Jack's hand-
writing. Fred tore it open.
"Make 110 noise. Don't go out on road. There is a
scour on each side of you. I am a hundred yards upstream
with a sprained ankle. Can you get the H. T. up here with-
out noise f Have a plan. JACK."
A few minutes later and Jack was telling his story. He
had been pitched off his seat by a sudden lurch just as the
Happy Thought began her headlong rush down the hill,
but had alighted unhurt in a clump of laurel. Seeing'that
Fred had safely run the gauntlet, he had made his way into
the scrub and worked cautiously down the hill, keeping
parallel with the road. On coming to a little bluff that
overhung the stream he had caught sight of Fred in his
covert by the road-side, and also of the horsemen who had
started in to beat the bushes. A shout would have be-
trayed them both. He must creep down and give Fred
warning. Unfortunately, in descending the bluff lie slipped
and sprained his ankle. Capture seemed certain. And
then came a brilliant thought. The water that flowed
past him also ran by Frrd. Might it not carry the warn-
ing message ? The rest you know.
Jack had spent the time in making for himself a rough
pair of crutches, and was now able to hobble along.
•• A quarter of a mile further upstream there's an old
•wood-road," he went on, in answer to Fred's eager query.
"I can manage to take care of myself if you can get the
machine up there. The road will take us straight into
Coppertown, and we'll save the money yet."
It was difficult work up the stony bed of the branch, but
it was finally accomplished, and the Happy Thought was
again under way, though at a reduced speed, for the wood
road was not in very good repair. Three, five, ten miles,
and the boys begau to breathe.freely. It looked as though
fortune had turned in their favor at last.
" It seems to have grown hazy," said Fred, a few moments
later, " and the sky and the sun are as yellow as gold."
"My eyes are smarting," returned Jack, with a cough.
"I believe it's smoke; and look there!"
A number of birds were flying over their heads, chatter-
ing and squawking wildly.
"They fly as though they were frightened," said Fred,
soberly. " Why, there are all kinds — quail, blue-jays, wood-
cock, and Bveu a couple of crows."
A deer burst from the thicket and came galloping past
them, with eyes starting in terror and dilated nostrils.
The woods seemed suddenly alive with rabbits and other
small game, all fleeing as though for their lives.
"The woods," gasped Fred — "they are on fire!"
From their position of the moment they could get an ex-
tended view around. To their dismay the fire was already
on three sides of them and rapidly closing in. They could
not go back, the wind was driving the flames directly across
the road behind them. The only chance was ahead, and it
was full two miles to the open. In any event they would
have to make a final dash through the flames.
It was little that Fred could afterwards recall of that
•wild ride. The smoke came in thick eddying, blinding,
suffocating gusts, and cinders, first black and then redly
alive, fell thick about them.
"Another half-mile," thought Fred, desperately, as the
Happy Thought bounced along over the rough road, now
lurching to one side and now to another, but keeping her
feet like a circus acrobat.
A turn in the road and he could see the open, but it was
a (laming curtain that hung between; the fire was across
the road- And what was that that lay directly athwart
their path, and in the very centre of the fiery furnace ?
It was a log some eight or ten inches in diameter.
It was a snap decision, but Fred recognized that it meant
certain death to stop. To put the Happy Thought straight
at the obstruction, like a steeple-chaser at a hurdle — it was
a slim chance, but the only one. He could feel the hot
breath of the fire on his cheeks, the pungent smoke was
gripping his throat like a vise. "Hold hard!" and at
thirty miles an hour Fred felt the Happy Thought strike
the rounded surface of the log fair and square. The slight-
est possible shock, and they seemed to be sailing on, on, on,
into endless space.
When he opened his eyes he was lying on the counter iu
the Copper Company's office, with the superintendent bend-
ing over him.
" All right, my boy ?"
'• Where's Jack— and the Happy Thought ?"
" Safe and sound. Your partner could steer the machine
from his seat, you know, and you were so wedged in thai
you 1'iiuld not fall. And I was driving past and saw you."
"And the money — it's safe?" Fred sat up and pointed to
the package lying on the counter.
" That ! Why, that's some porous plasters I ordered from
the city. Glad you brought them up for me."
" Porous plasters !"
The superintendent laughed. " My dear boy, you brought
the money with you on your Tuesday trip. I thought you
didn't kuow it, for you forgot to take my receipt. I've just
signed for it now."
"That's what Mr. Simmons meant by being careful,"
put iu Jack. "He never actually said that the money was
in Iliis package."'
" Well," said Fred, after a pause, " there were some
other people that got fooled too — ' Smooth Jim,' for in-
stance."
"And we've got- him," returned the superintendent,
grimly, " We were looking for a job of this kind, and that
is why the money was scut up Tuesday. The fire drove
them out of the woods plump into the sheriff's arms."
'• Tell me," said Fred to Jack, when they were alone,
" how in the world did the Happy Thought ever jump that
big log?"
"Big log! Why, Fred, you're dreaming. Wait a minute;
I do remember going over a beau -pole just before you
fainted."
"Oh," said Fred, shortly.
"I declare," grumbled Mr. Simmons the nest day, as he
looked at the express-book, " you boys are awful careless.
You never got a receipt for them porous plasters."
FEIENDS.
NEVER a flower so debonair,
And full of a gallant grace,
As the golden-rod that on ledge or sod
Seeks but a foothold's space.
Asking not for the garden's bed,
Shelter or care at all,
Standing with pride by the highway side,
Or climbing the mountain wall.
Ever beside her own true knight
The dear little aster lifts
Her purple bloom, in light or gloom,
Clothing ravines and rifts
With a royal robe that is fair to see,
While she answers back the nod,
Queenly and bright, on vale and height,
Of her lover, the golden-rod.
MAKGARET E. SANGSTER.
1003
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE NATIONAL SOCIETY
OF THE CHILDREN OF THE AMERICAN
REVOLUTION.
PATRIOTISM, that powerful ami ennobliug seutimeut,
has always in America taken a deep hold upon the
hearts of its people, and to-day the love of home and couu-
Iry is as strong and permanent there as in the early colonial
period or the thrilling
times of '76.
Within the past few
years the formation of
the many patriotic or-
ders of men and women
has done much to rouse
afresh aud to extend the
feeling of national pride
aud devotion, and now
the childreu of America
are to have this samr
impetus, for the Nation-
al Society of the Chil-
dreu of the American
Revolution is tilready
fouuded, aud rapidly
gathering within its
hospitable doors the
children and youth
from all over the laud.
Aud the best part of it is
that although only lineal descendants of colonial and Rev-
olutionary ancestors may become regular members, an in-
vitation and warm welcome are extended to all children of
uo matter what ancestry or nationality, to join in the pub-
lic gatherings of the society, aud to enjoy its pleasures and
benefits. In this way the true spirit of patriotism may
reach every boy and girl, aud there is no limit to the so-
ciety's scope or influence. This movement may thus be
said to be cue of "the broadest aud most beueficeut yet
started, and one that will tend to popularize the work of
the public schools toward patriotism and good govern-
ment.
At the age of eighteen years the girls may pass into the
rauks of the Daughters of the Americau Revolution, while
their brothers at twenty-one enter the Sons of the Amer-
icau Revolution.
The idea of having a young folks' organization first ori-
ginated with Mrs. Daniel Lothrop, known in every house-
MRS. D. LOTIIROP.
TUB ROOM AT "WAYSIDE" WHERE THE FIRST CHAPTER WAS ORGANIZED.
hold numbering children as "Margaret Sidney," author of
tlint much-loved book Five Little Peppers, and a score of
others. Such a happy aud far-reaching scheme was sure
to be the thought of just such a woman as Mrs. Lothrop,
for her warm heart aud fertile brain have always been
busy in helping boys and girls.
At the last Continental Congress of the Daughters of the
American Revolution, held in Washington iu February,
Mrs. Lothrop, who is Regent of the Old Concord Chapter
of that society, laid her plan before the femiuine represen-
tatives gathered from all parts of the Union, and they
unanimously voted that such au organization should be
formed, with Mrs. Lothrop at its head. Later she was
elected its president for four years, with power to organize
the society iu accordance with her own judgment and
regulations.
Thus ou April 5, 1895, the new association was founded
iu Washington, its permaueut headquarters, and six days
later was incorporated
under the Laws of Con-
gress. It will soon be
in full swing, for a vast
number of big aud little
boys and girls all over
the country are enroll-
ing themselves as its
members. Aud what a
delightful vista opens
before these juvenile
representatives !
They say iu their
constitution: " We, the
children and youth of
America, in order to
know more about bur
country from its forma-
tion, aud thus to grow
up iuto good citizens,
with a love for and an
understanding of the
principles aud institu-
tions of our ancestors,
do unite uuder the
guidance and govern-
ment of the Daughters
of the Americau Revo-
lution in the society to
be called the National
Society of the Children of the American Revolution. All
children aud youth of America, of both sexes, from birth
to the age of eighteen years for the girls aud twenty-one
for the boys, may join this society, provided they descend
in direct line from patriotic ancestors
who helped to plant or to perpet-
uate this country in the Colonies or
in the Revolutionary War, or in any
other way. We take for objects in
this society the acquisition of kuow-
ledge of Americau history, so that we
may understand and love our coun-
try better, and then any patriotic
work that will help us to that end,
keeping a constant endeavor to in-
flueuce all other childreu aud youth
to the same purpose. To help to save
the places made sacred by the Amer-
ican men aud women who forwarded
American independence; to fiud out
and to honor the lives of children and
youth of the Colonies aud of the
American Revolution ; to promote the
celebration of all patriotic anniver-
saries ; to place a copy of the Decla-
ration of Independence and other pa-
triotic documeuts iu every place ap-
propriate for them ; and to hold our
American flag sacred above every
other flag. In short, to follow the in-
junctions of Washington, who iu his youth served his
country, till we can perform the duties of good citizens.
And to love, uphold, and extend the institutions of Americau
liberty, aud the principles that made aud saved our country."
THE MoKEE CHILDREN.
1004
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
The membership fees are fifty cents the first year, and
twenty-live cents each succeeding year.
The young members are forming into many local socie-
ties or chapters, under their own control, but each one
guided by a president chosen from among the Daughters of
the American Revolution, who has only the good of her
young charges at heart. In this way the latter will learu
ho\v to rule a body of individuals, old or young, according
to parliamentary law, just as the United States .Senate and
House of Representatives are ruled. It will also teach
them to be just and logical in their words and actions.
Then they are going to strive above all else to be God-fear-
ing young citizens, to reverence and uphold the funda-
mental truths of their country, and to respect each other's
rights.
After these first sober considerations will come the
amusements. One of the society's vice- presidents, Mrs.
James R. McKee, daughter of ex-President Benjamin Har-
rison, has proposed the idea that the members be regularly
taught by a professional musician to correctly sing by heart
all the national hymns. Such a training in childhood
would inspire the young heads and hearts for a lifetime
with a profound love
and loyalty for the spot
which is home to them
all, whether by inherit-
ance or adoption.
Perhaps the best way
to gain an insight into
the future work and re-
creation of the society
is to glance at the do-
ings of the first local so-
ciety, founded May llth,
at Concord, Massachu-
setts, the town of the
"Old North Bridge," by
Mrs. Lothrop herself.
On the 18th of June a
reading circle was form-
ed on the grounds of
" The Wayside," Mrs.
Lothrop's home, and
the former abiding-
place of Hawthorne
and Louisa M. Alcott, where the latter lived "Little
Women " with her sisters, and wrote it. Three or four
young ladies and gentlemen lent their services, and read
history to the children. They all meet every fortnight for
a couple of hours in the afternoon and read the Life of
Washington, John Fiske's American Revolution, or any ap-
propriate historical book or sketches connected with the
early history of the nation. A committee of boys and girls
is elected to select the readers for each meeting, and also
the games to be played. Then excursions are made to
different historical spots ; one was to Sudbury, where Long-
fellow's Wayside Inn stands. The children had the Tales
of a Wayside Inn read to them before starting, and spent
several hours on the spot,
taking luncheon along,
and going over the old
house leisurely. This
fall a party of the chil-
dren under Mrs. Lo-
throp's care are to make
a series of historical
trips to Old Boston and
its vicinity. Sometimes
the Concord Chapter
draws up a plan as if
going on one of these
journeys, and then with
maps and books and lit-
tle speeches the children
have an hour or two of
pleasant travelling with-
out actually taking the
tour.
MARGARET I,. MANN,
DAUUUTEB OF SKO. N.S.C.A.R.
Iii each local society
the youthful members
may put, their heads to-
gether and originate all
sorts of delightful and
enterprising w-ays of
promoting their serious
aims, while leaving time
for pleasant diversions.
The nation's worthiest
and most distinguished
men and women are lend-
ing their personal aid and
encouragement to the
young society. In each
State the Governor and
his wife with other lead-
ers along various lines
stand as its sponsors.
Already many youthful descendants of America's early
heroes have flocked to the society's standard, among them
the grandchildren of Mr. and Mrs. John W. Foster, little
Mary Lodge and Benjamin Harrison (Baby) McKce, and
Robert John Walker, great-great-great-great-grandson of
Benjamin Franklin.
It is hoped and believed by all interested in the organi-
zation that its aims and endeavors will tend to indelibly
impress on the miuds of youthful Americans the great les'-
sous of national importance that have made the country
what it is, and that before the society stretches away a
future of usefulness almost incalculable in the possibility
of its issues.
LUCY H. BRECKENRIDGE,
SEC. CAPITAL SOOIETT.
MARGARET M. LOTHROP,
SEO. " OLD NOKTH BRIDGE SOOIKTY.''
KING KALAKAU'S ARMY.
OLD King Kalakau I., of the Sandwich Islands, had an
army that numbered by actual count thirty men, and
•was so proud of his formidable battalion that he obliged
it to go through its drill twice daily under the palace win-
dows. On every possible occasion he had his phalanx
parade, and was supremely happy when visited by com-
manding officers of the different cruisers in the Pacific, for
it gave him an opportunity to receive them at the landing-
place with all his military force drawn up in honor of his
guests. One day an English man-o'-war entered the har-
bor, and the flag-officer on board sent word to his coffee-
colored majesty that he would pay him a visit. Instead
of waiting in his palace to receive the officer, the King sent
to the barracks, had his army hunted up, and at their head
marched down to the quay, where he formed his legion in
line, then sat down on the edge of the dock to await his
coming guest.
Now in some way the old King had just obtained a num-
ber of blue cloth army overcoats, together with a lot of
spurs, flint-lock muskets, and big bear-skin hats, such as are
worn by drum-majors. Under the broiling tropical sun his
warlike host stood, two ranks deep, the heavy overcoats
about them, spurs strapped on bare feet, and their heads
supporting the enormous hats, while their muskets were
pointed in every couceivable direction.
At last the Commodore's barge was seen to leave the
ship and make for the laudiug. The King hastily took his
position in front of his army, and as the English officer
stood np in his boat to leave it, the King called out to
" fire and present arms."
Then the funniest thing of all happened.
The men in the rear rank did not elevate their muskets
sufficiently, and the consequence was that the next minute
the air was full of fur and remnants of bear-skin hats
blown away from the heads of the soldiers in front. In
another moment the disgusted and angry King was chasing
his demoralized and panic-stricken army up the dock, be-
laboring every oue of them that he overtook with his
royal mace.
The scene was too much for the dignity of the English
Commodore, who fell back in the stern-sheets of his boat
almost strangled with laughter.
1005
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
SEA RANGERS.
BY KIRK M U N R O E,
AUTHOR OF " ROAD RANGERS," THE "MATE" SERIES,
"SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES," ETC.
CHAPTER III.
ADMIRAL MARLIN* BECOMES A RANGER.
ESIDES being a Ranger, Tom Bur-
gess bud recently joined a canoe
dull, and, like all young members
of such associations, was most en-
thusiastic overtbe new sport thus
opened to him. His club was to
camp on an uninhabited island
near the eastern end of Long Isl-
and Sound for two weeks during
the summer, and the plan that
he now unfolded to Will Rogers
was that the Rangers should also go into camp on the isl-
and at the same time.
When, according to bis custom, Captain Will called a
meeting of the band, aud laid this proposition before them,
it was received -with such an outburst of enthusiasm as
left no doubt of its popularity.
Although these inland boys were totally ignorant of the
sea and all that pertains to it, save for such knowledge as
they had gleaned from books, and the very queer ideas of a
seafaring life acquired from the extraordinary drama in
which most of them had recently taken part, tliey believed
themselves to be pretty well posted in nautical matters,
and were most anxious to test their theories by practical
experience. So the motion to become " Sea Rangers," and
participate, in the proposed "salt-water range," as Captain
Will called it, was unanimously carried. Then the meet-
ing was hastily adjourned that the members might at once
laythe gorgeous scheme,just unfolded to them, before their
parents, and strive to gain their consent to its being under-
taken.
Alas, that such enthusiasm should be dampened! But
true it is that, on the following morning, in spite of bicycles
and many other blessings, the Ready Rangers were the
most disconsolate -looking boys to be seen in all Berks.
Not one of them had succeeded in persuading the senior
members of his family that the plan, which appeared to
him so simple and easy of accomplishment, was either wise
or practicable.
" She wanted to know how we thought of going, and
how we expected to raise money for the trip, aud who was
going to take care of us, and all sorts of things like that,"
remarked little C'al Moody, sadly, in reference to his inter-
view with his mother. " She said she never heard of any-
thing more foolish, even from the Rangers, aud that there
was no use in even thinking about it, for it couldn't be
considered for a minute."
" As if a fellow could help thinking about a chance that
may not lie ottered again in a lifetime," said Cracker
Bob Jones. " But my folks talked just that same way.''
•• Mine too," added boy after boy, mournfully.
" I don't see," argued Sam Ray, " why parents are never
willing to own up that some boys at least are perfectly
well able to take care of themselves."
'• They might give us just one chance to prove whether
we are or not," broke in Mif Bowers; " but they won't even
do that. They just say, ' No, and that's the end of it.' I
declare it's enough to destroy all a fellow's ambition," he
added, bitterly.
The canoe club to which Tom Burgess belonged had
chartered a small steamer, that was to take them from New
York to the island selected for their encampment, leave
them I here, and call for them again at the end of two weeks.
As the Berks hoys contrasted their own prospects with
those thus outlined for their city friends, they felt more
and more sorry for themselves, and longed for the time
when, with advancing years, they should throw oft' the
shackles of boyhood.
So the summer wore on, school dosed, the first mouth of
vacation was passed, and as the time arrived for the canoe
club to go into its sea-side camp, the Rangers, to whom the
topic was still one of constant conversation, became more
and more depressed aud inclined to take gloomy views of
life in general.
Suddenly, as though by magic, everything was changed,
and in a twinkling the darkness of disappointment was
dissipated by the golden light of realized hopes. All op-
position to their cherished scheme was swept away in the
space of a few hours; and while, they could still hardly
credit their good-fortune, the Rangers found themselves
working like beavers to make ready for their salt-water
cruise. They were to do the thing up in a style that would
beat that of the canoe boys out of sight, too. Oh! it
seemed incredible, and they had to reassure each other of
their wonderful good-fortune every time they met in order
to believe in its reality.
It all came about through their friend Admiral Marlin,
who, according to promise, visited Berks to determine its-
desirability as a place of summer residence. Of course he-
renewed his acquaintance with Will Rogers, and was taken
to the engine-house, where he admired the " Ranger," and
met the rest of the band. Of course, too, the blutT old
sailor at once won their hearts and their confidence to such
an extent that they unfolded to him all their longings for
a seafaring life, and their recently shattered hopes in that
direction.
The Admiral took their part at once, aud said it was too'
bad; that every boy in the country ought to know some-
thing of the sea, and that the more he knew in that line
the better it would be both for him and the country.
Then he went to call on his old shipmate, Mr. Redmond
Cnddeback, who, through his invention, had now become a
large stockholder in the Berks Mills.
From that visit the big-hearted old sailor returned with
a beaming face and the air of one who is charged with an
urgent mission. That afternoon, in company with Squire
Bacon, be drove from house to house until he had held a per-
sonal interview with the parents of every Ranger in Berks.
Then he desired Will Rogers to call a special meeting of
the band for that very evening, as he wished to make them
a communication of the greatest importance.
Never had the Rangers found their parents so smiling
and also so reticent as at supper-time. The very air seem-
ed tilled with a pleasant mystery, and when the members
of the band reached Range Hall they were fully impressed
with the idea that something big was about to happen.
Nor were they disappointed, for they found Admiral Marlin
occupying Pup Miller's one particular chair, aud so impa-
tient to address them that he could hardly wait for the
formal preliminaries with which their meetings were al-
ways opened.
As soon, therefore, as he was invited to speak he plunged
at once into his subject as eagerly as though he were a boy
himself, by saying:
"It's all right, lads, and you can go on that salt-water
cruise just as quick as ever you have a mind."
"Hurrah!" shouted Will Rogers, who was the first to
grasp the full meaning of this astonishing statement.
Then how all the others did cheer,and clap their hands, and
give utterance to various expressive though unintelligible
exclamations of joy! During this demonstration the Ad-
miral smiled and bowed, and beamed upon them as though
his happiness were fully equal to theirs.
When quiet- was at length restored, he continued: "Yes,
boys, it's all arranged. I've applied to the several heads
of department, and obtained leave of absence for every one
of you, with permission to cross the sea. But it's to be a
regular cruise instead of a mere camping frolic, and although
you will visit the canoe club island, and have a chance to join
in all that is going on, you will live on board ship, which
is to my mind a much more sensible arrangement."
" Of course it is!" shouted Jack Jackstraw and the " mid-
shipmite" both together.
"The ship," continued the Admiral, only smiling at this
1006
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
interruption, " is the good sloop Millgirl that recently came
- tl e river with supplies for Berks Mills, and is now lying
" o, t five miles down-stream, at the head of navigation,
waiting for a return charter. She has been pressed into
be service by my old friend Mr. Redmond Cnddebaok.who,
throuM, me, tenders her to the Rangers for th,s crnise.
"Three cheers for Mr. Cmldeback!" cried Si Carew, and
they were given with such heartiness as to be heard mor.
tban a mile away. „ , ,
" I have examined Captain Crotty.her commander, add-
ed the speaker, " and find him to be a good seaman. He is
therefore well tilted to take charge of a lot of reckless young
landlubbers like you, and will keep au eye on you a
time you are away. He has orders to maintain strict dis-
cipline, and to give you such instruction m seamanship a
the length of the cruise will allow. So now, lads, what do
you say? Are you prepared to ship for the voyage sign
the articles of war, become Sea Rangers, and show these
New' York lads the difference between sailing tinder -mv as
and travelling in a tea-kettle, betwixt living aboard a ship
that will rock you to sleep like a cradle every night and
campTn" on a 'dull, unchanging shore'-as the poet chap
rthtlv calls it-between handling a sea-boat and paddl.ng
about in a toy canoe? I'm waiting for an expression of
prevented by his duties at the mills from taking part in
the present expedition.
"Waal I'll be Mowed!" exclaimed Captain Jabez Crotty,
as the Sea Rangers tumbled out of Squire Bacon's big
wan-on that had brought then, down to where the MiUgirl
was moored, and boarded the sloop with a rush.
" Good-morning, noble skipper. I trust that you are a
ready for skipping!" cried Will Rogers, at the same time
making a profound bow, and scraping his foot m i
the master of the sloop.
" For he is the skipper, and we are the shippers,
Our ship- is the bold Skippane.
\inl we ship with no skipper
Who'll not skip with his shippers,
Whenever the wind blows free,"
sang the Sea Rangers in chorus, at the same time joining
hands and dancing in a circle about the bewildered sailor-
"H.-ho,Kanger! Hi-ho, Ranger! Hi-ho, Ranger Berks
Berks! Berks !'' answered the boys, springing to then- eet
fn uncontrollable enthusiasm, waving their hats, and deliv-
ering the Ready Ranger cheer with such unanninty and
vehemence as left not the slightest doubt ot their willing-
ness to become Sea Rangers then and there.
" I move that Admiral Richard Marlm be elected to hou
orable membership," said Hal Bacon.
• Second the motion !" shouted every member present.
"All in favor — " began Captain Will.
"Ave!"came the unanimous response, as though iron
single voice, even before the question was whc
"""'carried without dissent." announced Will, who was be-
comin" verv expert in the use of parliamentary terms.
I thus adding a retired Admiral to their ranks that a -
rea v Id Annapolis cadet, the Rangers felt that their
organization and the United States navy were about, as
go'od as one and the same thing.
CHAPTER IV.
LITTLE CAL AND HIS MERMAID.
Two days after that on which the gloom of the Rangers
J8 so miraculously changed to extravagant joy the ^keel
sloop Uillgirl hoisted her well-patched sails and began to
5 down with the current of the riven ^^
topmast-head fluttered the red-axe flag of the Read\ Kan
ge's while on her deck was gathered the most remarkable
looking crew ever seen off the stage of a theatre. U ithout
ado M as to its being the correct thing, every boy who
had borne a part in Blue Billow now appeared m the cos
tume he had worn in that realistic sea-drama ; w hile those
o had not been thus fortunate had made such alterations
h. their everv-dav garments as seemed to them most nau-
«cal and appropriate. Thus Cracker Bob Jones s tall
fi<rure was arrayed in the white duck trousers, sh
s^^^^M^^rS
CalMoodys midshipmite costume of blue picket and rou-
sers ornamented with gilt buttons, was somewhat, marred
bv the bg rubber boota that his mother had ins sted on us
wearing for this trip. Abe Crnger, still sustaining IMS
"ter as Bill Bullseye, also wore rubber boots, a rub-
ber Lat, and an old sou'wester hat that was several sizes
too large for him. Will Rogers wore his bicyc e nn, torn
except that the knee-breeches were replaced bj white
duck trousers, similar to those worn by the others. I he
remaining members were coatless; b«t all were arrayed in
™" dy flannel shirts with leather belts ami sheath-knile
attachments The gorgeous uniform of Sir Birch Beer,
which part had been taken by Reddy Cuddeback, did not
figure on this occasion, as the newest active membe
a-il I mil be Mowed!" he gasped for the second time.
" They're as crazy as flounders, every last one of 'em. An
I've o-ot'em on my hands for two hull weeks."
"We're ready for dnty, sir," announced Will at the con-
clusion of the song and dance, with another scrape an.
pull at his forelock. "You'll find us brave and able sea-
men, and if you'll only issue your orders we'll gladlj o
lb ""oh ve will, will ye ? Waal, then you can break out the
chain-cable and polish it till it shines, clean the barnacle
offn the ship's bottom, keep a lookout aloft for the Fl^ng
DrtAMM.and another over the bows for mermaids, prac-
tise all hands at boxing the compass backwards, get
bells from the sun, and keep out of my sight till we re a* ay
for fear I'll murder some of ye."
"Ay, ay, most gallant skipper," answered \\ ill,
grin- and then, hitching their trousers as they went, the
whole boisterous crowd tumbled down below to examine
The interior of the strange home they expected to occupy
onyd disappeared, Captain Crotty and Ja-
bez his son, commonly called " young Jabe," a lad of se^ «
teen who represented the sloop's crew, cast off the moonng-
liues and o-ot their clumsy cratt under way
The Rangers were delighted with the accommodations
prepared for them in the hold, which was fitted up with
empoVary bunks for their use. Each boy made a rush for
the hunk that seemed to him most desirable, and scramb
into it to test its comfort as well as to make good his claim
„„„ , a,... sailors always slept in hammocks, re-
marked Mif Bowers, in a disappointed tone.
"Oh pshaw'" replied Abe Cruger. "They're no good,
for I tried itlt home and nearly broke my neck tumbling
ou the minute I got to sleep. I expect hammock is only
^ lor's . an e for bed, for no one could really sleep ,n one ;
andthen.yov, know, they al ways call things different at sea;
But I say, Will, isn't old Crotty a daisy? And didn , he,
seem surprised to find us looking so much like regular sail-
ors' What did he mean, though, by the things he t
t0 I0 don't exactly understand myself." replied the Ranger
• - — got to try and do them,
aid ne-^murTrns, anyhow, if we didn't keep out
°';sHSSS;Ksr'=s
[ol Bacon "He won't
it I suppose he wants to send
'r know what he meant by ' backwards,' but I gness up-
1007
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
CAL MOODY'S MERMAID.
were built and what few nails they could pick up. They
got an axe out of the " kitchen," as Sam Ray called the gal-
ley, and made such a racket pounding with it that young
Jabe hurried below to see what was up. The moment he
appeared they pounced on him and demanded the bells.
" What ever do you fellers mean f" he queried, at the same
time trying to shake himself loose.
"The eight bells that Skipper Crotty said we were to get
from his son," they shouted; "and if you don't give 'em to
us we'll report you, and you'll be cat-o-nine-tailed for ne-
glect of duty."
" Cat- o- nothing," retorted young Jabe, in a disgusted
tone. " You cau report all you want to. Same time I'll
do some reporting myself; and when the old man hears
what you're a -doing to his best compass I rather guess
there'll be somebody besides me in danger of the cat."
" He told us to box it."
"We're only obeying orders."
"Guess we know what we're doing."
So shouted the Rangers ; and when young Jabe started
t<> ri-port to his father the state of affairs in the hold, they
all sprang after him, determined to present their side of the
question, and utterly forgetting that they had just decided
to keep out of the skipper's sight for a time at least.
The sloop was. running dead before a light breeze, with
its big mainsail away out on the starboard side, and Cap-
tain Crotty was just then doing some very fine steering in
trying to clear a sharp bend in the river without gybing.
The sudden rush of young Jabe
and the excited boys, all shouting
at the top of their voices, and bear-
ing down on him with frantic ges-
tures, so startled the skipper that
for a single moment his attention
was drawn away from the big sail.
"They're stealing the compass!"
" He won't give us the bells!"
As the opposing factions uttered
these cries there came a mighty
sweep of something over their
heads. The next moment young
Jabe and Cracker Bob Jones were
overboard and struggling in the
river, the skipper, Will Rogers, and
several more of the Rangers were
flnug to the deck, and the sloop,
left to her own devices, was round-
ing into the wind with such a
slatting of sails, sheets, and blocks,
as caused those boys who were still
below to imagine that she had been
struck by a cyclone. The mainsail
had gybed over, and though the
boom was, fortunately, so lifted,
that it cleared the heads of those
who stood on deck, the sheet had
tripped them, and flung two of the
number overboard.
Mercifully no one was injured by
the mishap ; and as the vessel lost
her headway, the two who were
overboard managed to clamber into
the small boat towing astern. They
had hardly gained this place of
safety when Cracker Bob again
sprang into the water after his be-
ribboued straw hat which was
jauntily floating away. Glad as he
was to recover this bit of property,
he was heavy-hearted at the loss
of his highly prized pateut-leather
pumps, which had been kicked off
and lost in his first plunge.
By the time these two had clam-
bered aboard, with river water run-
ning from them in streams, the oth-
ers had regained their feet, and
were examining their bruises, while
the skipper, after assuring himself that no serious damage
•was done, was jamming the helm hard down, and getting
the sloop once more on her course. He did not utter a
word until this was accomplished, when, with a mournful
shake of his head, he exclaimed, "And this is only the be-
ginning of the cruise !"
Then, as though remembering that authority must be
maintained at all hazards, he sung out:
"You Jabe, go for'ard and wring yourself. As for you
other young pirates, you stay on deck aud don't get out
of my sight for a single minute, or I'll murder ye all."
At this awful threat little Cal Moody sincerely wished
himself once more safely at home, though the others minded
it so little, that it in no wise lessened the interest with
which they watched the sleeves of Cracker Bob's flannel
jacket shrink as they slowly dried in the hot sun.
Finally, bethinking himself of a duty that he might per-
form, and perhaps thereby win his way into the skipper's
good graces, Cal slipped away forward, and hung over the
blult bows of the sloop to watch for the mermaids, in whose
existence he believed as firmly as in his own. As he ga/.rd
dowu at the parted waters swiftly streaming backward,
the little chap became so oblivious of his surroundings,
that when a great fish rushing up from the green depths
leaped into the air directly beneath him, he uttered a
startled cry, made a sudden move, and took a header into
the very waters that were closing above the fish.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
1008
OAKLEIQH.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS. DELANO.
XVI.
BUT Neal would not " give in." Cynthia's renewed en-
treaties were of no more avail than they bad been be-
fore.
"I will not come," he repeated again and again, and at
last Cynthia gave up asking.
He got out of the canoe just below the Oakleigh landing,
and where he was hidden from the house.
" I hope you won't be ill, Cynthia," he said. '• I am sorry
I made you come out such a day; it will be my fault if you
take cold. One more bad tiling I bave done. My life isn't
a bit of good, anyhow ; I've a good mind to go and drown
m\M'lf — I'm half drowned now."
He laughed somewhat bitterly, as he looked down at his
drenched clothes.
" Cynthia, I'm a brute. Hurry in and change your things.
I'm oft' to Pelham; I'll take a train there for Boston. I'll
let you know where I go ; and I say, Cynth, won't you write
to a fellow now and then? I don't deserve it, I know, but
I'd like to bear from you, and I'll want to know how Edith
gets along."
"Yes, if you will let me know your address. Good-by,
Neal," she said, sadly.
" Good-by."
He stood and watched
her. She rounded the curve
where the boat-house was,
and waved her hand as she
disappeared. She was only
a few yards away, and yet
he could no longer see her.
He could easily imagine how
it would all be.
A mau would come down
from the barn and help her
with the canoe. She would
go up the hill and follow tbe
path to the side door behind
the conservatory. There
would be exclamations of
dismay when she came in,
all dripping wet. Hester
and the servants would hur-
ry to belp her, and she
would be thoroughly dried
and warmed ; his sister
would see to that — his sis-
ter, who thought him no
better than a common thief!
And then Cynthia would
tell bow she had met him,
and that he would not come
home. How astonished Hes-
ter would be to hear that he
was so near! He turned
abruptly when he thought
of this, and sprang up the
bank to the road that lay
between Brenton and Pel-
bam. He crossed the bridge,
and with one more look at
the dark river, struck out
at a good pace for Pelham,
the nearest railway sta-
tion.
He glanced back once at
the chimneys and white
walls of Oakleigh when he
rear I led the spot from which
they could be seen for the
last time oil the Pelham
road. Then, bidding good-
by to his past life, he has-
tened on.
The road that runs from Brenton to Pelham is very
straight after one has passed Oakleigh. There are but few
bouses — nothing but meadows, trees, and bushes on either
side. Neal, tramping over the broad expanse of gra.\ r I.
bad nothing to distract his mind from tbe thoughts that
filled it. At first they were very desperate ones.
"Cynthia bad no right ti> emne and rant the way she
did. The idea of calling me a coward, and telling me I was
like a boy in a dime novel because 1 ian away! It \\ as
the only thing to do. They had no 1; isiuess to suspect
me. They — Confound it ! I won't put up with such treat-
ment. I'll stick to my resolution and drop the whole con-
cern. What a long, straight road this is, and how I hate
the rain !"
At last be reached tbe end of it and entered tbe little
town of Pelham, uninteresting at the best of times, and
doubly so on such a day as this. Tbe inhabitants were all
within doors; not eveu a dog was stirring.
"Every one is dry and comfortable but me," thought
Neal, miserably, as he went into tbe station.
Fortunately, the next t ruin for Boston was soon due, and it
did not take long for him to reach the friend's bouse in one
of tbe suburbs at which he bad left his possessions.
'I HOPE THEE IS NEITHER EXTRAVAGANT NOR LAZY?"
1009
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
A merry party was staying there, fur the Easter holidays,
and Neal was the subject of much speculation and concern
v lieu he appeared, weary and wet, in their midst. Every
one supposed that lie liad gone to Brentou to visit his sis-
ti'r. and they wondered why he had come back on such a
stormy day.
Though the story of Neal was well known in Brentou,
oddly enough it had not yet reached his friends in Boston,
and he did not enlighten them. He went to his room and
slaid there for several hours. With dry clothes he came
into a better frame of mind.
Poor little Cynthia! How good she was to come to meet
him such a day, when she must have wanted to stay with
Edith. Aud how badly she felt about him; much more so
than he deserved. He was not worth it. How she had
fired up when she told him that he was a coward ! He must
prove to her that lie was not. He would never give in and
go back there, never! But. there were other ways of prov-
ing it ; he could go to work and show her that he was
made of good stuff after all. He should not have fright-
ened Cynthia by sayiug that he would "go to the bad."
But, then, he had been abominably treated. He could not
go to college now, for lie would never accept it from Hes-
sie, who had been willing to believe he took the money.
He lashed himself iuto a fury again as he thought of it.
He was utterly unreasonable, but of course he was fjnite
unconscious of being so.
Finally the better thoughts came uppermost again, and
he decided what to do. He would go to Philadelphia and
ask his guardian to put him in the way of getting some
work. He would tell him the whole story. Fortunately,
he did not remember that Cynthia had said her father
•went to Philadelphia; if he had he would not have gone,
thinking that his guardian would have been prejinlired
against him by his brother-in-law.
He packed his valise and started that night, though his
friends urged him to stay longer. He felt a feverish im-
patience to be off and have things settled. With it w.-ts a
feeling of excitement; he was going to seek his fortune.
Thrown upon ,-i eohl world by the unkind and unjust sus-
picious of his nearest relatives, he would rise above adverse
circumstances and "ennoble fate by nobly bearing it!"
It was a very heroic martyr that bought a ticket for
Philadelphia that night.
He did not engage a berth in the sleeping-car; he was a
poor man now and must begin to economize. Besides, upon
counting his m< y he found that he had but just enough
\\ ith which to reach his destination.
He was very tired with the adventures of the last two
days, and the night before, spent in a shed, had not been
comfortable, so he slept well, notwithstanding the fact that
he was not in a Pullman sleeper. He did not wake until
it was broad daylight, and the train was speeding along
through New Jersey. The storm was over, the sun was
shining down upon a bright and rain-washed world, and
Neal Gordon was entering upon a new life.
"So this is the 'Quaker City,'" he thought, as the train
glided over the bridges and into the huge station. "I
wonder if every one is in a broad-brimmed hat ' Aud now
to find cousin William Carpenter. He's a Quaker of the
Quakers, I suppose; I can never get iuto the habit of .say-
ing ' thee' and ' thou.'"
He did not see much of the Quaker element in the busy
si at ion, nor when he went down stairs and out on to Broad
•Street. He was on the point of jumping into a hansom to
1)6 driven to his cousin's house, when he remembered that
lie had not a cent in his pocket with which to pay for it.
It was a uovel experience for Neal.
He inquired the way to Arch Street, and found that it
•was not very far from where he was, and he soon reached
the designated number.
"Not a broad-brimmer have I seen yet," he said to him-
self, as he pulled the bell -handle. He looked up and
down the street while he waited. It, was wider than some
that he had passed through, and rather quiet except for the
jingling horse-cars. It was very straight, and lined with
red brick houses with white marble steps and heavy wood-
<_'n shutters.
He looked down, as he stood on the dazzling steps, at his
boots splashed with Boston mud, and he shuddered at the
effect they might have on his cousins. He should have
had them cleaned at the station ; but then he did not have
rive cents to spend.
The door was opened, and he walked into the parlor and
sent up his card. It was a large room with very little fur-
niture in it, and the few chairs and sofas that there were
stood stiffly apart. Not an ornament was to be seeu but a
large clock that ticked slowly and sedately on the marble
mantel- piece. There were no curtains, but "Venetian
blinds," formed of green slats, hung at the windows. It all
looked very neat and very bare, and extremely stiff.
It was not long before Neal heard a step in the ball, and
an elderly man entered the room. He was very tall, and
wore a long, quaint-looking coat that flapped as he walked.
His face was smooth, and of a calm, benign expression that
Neal afterwards found was never known to vary. He came
in with outstretched hand.
" Thee is Neal Gordon. I am pleased to meet thee again,
cousin. Come up stairs to breakfast; Rachel will be glad
to see thee."
Who Rachel was Neal could not imagine, as he followed
his host up a short flight of stairs to the breakfast-room.
He supposed she must be a young daughter of the house,
for although William Carpenter was both his kinsman and
his guardian, the relationship had until now been mere-
ly nominal, and Neal knew very little about him or his
family.
Sitting at the table, behind the tall silver urn and the
cups and saucers, was an old lady in a close white cap and
.•-prelacies. A snowy kerchief of some tine white material
was folded about her shoulders over a gray dress. Her
face, also, was calm and sweet, and wore the same expres-
sion as did her husband's.
"Rachel," said lie, "this is our cousin. Neal Gordon.
Neal, this is my wife, Rachel."
"I am glad to see thee, Neal," she said, extending her
hand without rising; "sit down. Thee'll be glad to have
a cup of coffee, doubtless, if thee's just arrived from the
train, as thee has the look of doing." This with a glance
at his travel -stained clothes.
Neal, very conscious of his muddy boots, thanked her,
and sat down at the table, where a neat- looking servant
had made ready a place for him. It seemed funny that
they took his arrival as a matter of course, but he sup-
posed that was the Quaker way. At any rate, they were
very kind, and it was the best breakfast he ever ate. Even
if he had not been so hungry, the coffee would have been
delicious, and all the rest of it, too.
His cousins asked him no questions, but after breakfast
he was shown to a room and told to make himself com-
fortable.
"But I would like to speak to you, sir," he said to his
host — "that is, if you don't mind. I came on to Philadel-
phia on business." This with a rather grand air.
"Verily," said William Carpenter; "but I have no time
now. I go to my office every day at this hour. Thee can
come with me if thee wishes, and we will converse there."
Neal agreed, and hastily brushing his clothes and giving
a dab to his boots he set out, much amused at the new
company in which he found himself. Mr. Carpenter wore
a tall beaver hat, of wide brim and ancient shape, which
he never removed from his head, even though he met one or
two ladies who bowed to him.
"They don't all seem to be Quakers, though." thought
Neal, as, leaving Arch Street, they took their way across
the city, and met and passed many people of as worldly
an aspect as any to be seen in Boston — in fact, his com-
panion's broad-brimmed hat seemed sadly out of place.
The houses too were different in this locality. Easter
flowers bloomed iu the windows between handsome cur-
tains, and there were not so many white shutters and mar-
ble steps — in fact, with a street band playing on the corner
and the merry peal of chimes that rang from a neighboring
steeple it seemed quite a gay little town, thought Neal,
with condescension.
His cousin pointed out the sights as they walked.
loin
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"There arc the public- buildings," lie said, " and beyond
is the great stun- ut' Jnhn Waiia kcr. This is Chestnut
Street, , 'iiid yonder is tlie Mint. Thee will go there and to
Independence Hall while thee is here, and to Oirard College,
that is. it' ther has a proper amount of public spirit, as I
liope to be the case."
Xeal humbly acquiesced, and then remarked upon the
distance of his cousin's place of business from his house.
"Do yon always walk ?" he asked.
"Always. I have found that exercise is good, and the
car fare worth saving. 'A penny saved is a penny gained,'
I have made my motto through life, and for that reason I
have never known want. I hope thee is neither extrava-
gant nor la/y .'"
This with a keen, shrewd, not unkindly glance from be-
neath the level gray eyebrows.
Neal colored and hoped lie was not, knowing all the
i line that these were two serious faults of his.
They had passed through the fashionable- part of tin-
city, and were walking down a narrow, low-built street.
In the distance was a huge space rilled with great piles of
boards that came far up above the high fence which sur-
rounded the whole square.
"This is my ot'tiec," said Mr. Carpenter, as he opened tin-
door of a small low building in tin- corner of the great
\ ai'd. "I am in the In in her business."
It was some time before he could say any more to his
cousin. There were letters to be opened, his head clerk to
be interviewed, men to be directed.
Neal sat at, a window that looked out on the yard, and
watched some, men that were loading a huge dray. There
wen- boards, boards, boards everywhere. How tired he
should get of lumber if he had to stay here! He hoped
that his business, whatever it might, prove to be, would be
more exciting and more in the heart of things than this re-
mote lumber-yard. He thought from what, he had heard
that he would like to be a stock-broker, as long as lie was
barred out of the professions by not going through col-
lege.
He was just imagining himself on 'Change, in the midst
of an eager crowd of other successful brokers, a panic im-
minent, and he alone cool and self- possessed, when his
cousin's voice rudely interrupted his reverie. It sounded
calmer than ever in contrast to Neal's day-dream.
"Cousin, if thee will come into my private office I will
listen to thee for fifteen or twenty minutes."
Neal obeyed, but found it difficult to begin his story. It
is a very hard thing to tell a man that you are suspected
of being a thief.
" I don't know whether you know," he began, rather
haltingly, "that I — that — in fact, I've left Hester for good
and all. You are my guardian, so you must know all about
that conf — that abom — that — er — well, that will of my
grandmother's. Hester didn't give me a large enough al-
lowance— at least, I didn't think it was enough — and I got
into debt at school. It was not very much of a de.bt for a
fellow with such a rich sister."
He paused, rather taken aback by the quick glance that
was shot at him from the mild blue eyes of his Quaker
cousin.
" What does thee call ' not much ' f"
"A hundred dollars. I knew they would think it a lot,
so I only told Hessie, and John fifty, and she gave it to me.
Afterwards the fellow I owed it to came down on me for
the rest, and wrote to John, Hessie's husband. In the,
mean time I had got hold of some money in a perfectly fttir,
liiiiiiirnlili: way, and sent it to the fellow, and be wrote again
to John Franklin and said I had paid up. Then, .just be-
cause a present one of the Franklin children expected
at that time didn't come, they accused me of taking it.
They had no earthly reason for supposing it except that I
paid fifty dollars in gold for the, money-order I sent, and
the child's present was lit'ty dollars in gold."
"And where- did thee get the money?"
The question came so quietly and naturally that Neal
was taken unawares, and answered before he thought.
"Cynthia Franklin lent it to me. I hated to borrow of
a girl, and I made her promise not to tell; afterwards I was
glad I had. If they choose to suspect me. I'm not going t<>
lower myself by explaining. And I will ask you, as a par-
ticular favor, Cousin William, not to tell any one. I didn't.
mean to mention it."
His cousin merely bowed, and asked him to continue.
" Well, there's not much more, except that I was sus-
pended from school before that for a scrape 1 wasn't in,
and it put everybody against me, and now I want to get
something to do. I am going to support myself, and I
thought I'd come to you, as you're my guardian ami a
cousin, and perhaps yon would help me."
"Did thee know that thy brother-in-law, John Franklin,
was here within a few days?"
Xeal sprang to his feel.
"He was! Then he. told yon all this. I might have
known it!"
"Thee may as well remain calm, Neal. Thee will gain
nothing in this world by giving \ cut to undue excitement .
John Franklin told me nothing, except, that thee had left
his home, and he had supposed thee was with me. He did
not tell me of the gold, but he did say he feared thee was
extravagant, in which I agreed with him. Thee has no-
thing to find fault with in what he said."
Neal felt, rather ashamed of himself. After all. it had
been generous in his brother-in-law not to prejudice his
guardian against him.
"And now what does thee wish to do?" asked the old
man, as he looked at his large gold-faced watch.
"I want to get some work," replied Neal.
"Is thee willing to take anything thee can get?"
" Yes, almost anything," with a hasty glance at the piles
of lumber without.
"I>oes thee know that times are hard. and it is almost
impossible, for even young men of experience to get a situ-
ation, while thee is but a boy?"
" Ye-es. I suppose so."
"Thee need not expect much salary."
"No, only enough to live on. I'm going to be very
economical."
William Carpenter smiled, and looked at the boy kindly.
He was silent for a few minutes, and then he said :
"Neal, as thee is my ward and also my cousin,! am w-ill-
ing to make a place for thee here. We can give thee but
a small stipend, but it, is better than nothing for one who
is anxious for work, as thee says thee is. Thee will not
have board and lodging to pay for, however, as thee can
make thy home with Rachel and myself. Our boy, had he
lived, would have been about thy age."
This was said calmly, with no suspicion of emotion. It
was simply the statement of a fact.
"Oh, thank yon. cousin William, you are very kind!
But — do you think I could ever learn the lumber business?
It — it seems so — well, I don't exactly see what there is to
do."
" Thee is too hasty, by far. Thee could not be expected
to know the business before thee has set foot in the yard.
But thee must learu first that it is well to make the most
of every opportunity that comes to hand. Will thee, or
will thee not, come into my home and my employ? It is
the best I can do for thee."
And after a moment's hesitation, and one wild regret
for the lost pleasures of the stock r:\ehangc, Xeal agreed
to do it-
It was thus he began his business life.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
IT is enjoyable to read a good storj of the biter being
bitten, and the following one may not be a in Us :
A class of st inlet its, holding a grudge against one of I ho
professors, tied a live goose to his chair. I'pon enteiing
the room the professor saw the goose, and calmly walking
up to the desk, addressed the class as follows:
" Gentlemen, as yon have succeeded in git ting an in-
structor so much belter i|iialiiied to direci the bent of
your ideas, I beg you will pardon me for resigning the
chair."
1011
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
D
"Yonstilution
BY ROW AN STEVENS.
is tin- iiilr thai trax told to me
-*- Hi/ a man with a lurry queue,
U'lm mil n-illi it X]>I/-</IIIXH in his hand,
And ;/ii:i-il i/u Ilic it-liters blue;
His hair H'IIX ir/iite, lint his c.i/c iras liriijlit,
And xlruii/ht irux liix undent form,
And hix liroii-n old face liort' many a trace
Of the battle and the storm.
I.
Ay, she was a ship ! She showed her heels
To the swiftest of them all ;
She weathered many a raging gale
And many a roaring squall.
And he — our Captain — of all the men
That ever sailed the sea,
There was never a one like Isaac Hull
To handle a ship, said we.
It was in one pleasant summer-time
That the Constitution lay
A cable's length from an English ship
In the bight of Lisbon Bay.
Between that British crew and us
The looks were grim and glum,
For we thought of the war a few years back,
And hoped for a war to come.
The officers, though, were friendly still;
They'd meet some day in war,
And they knew they'd show their mettle then
As they'd shown it well before.
Yes, even the Captains, they were chums —
Our own old Do-aud-Dare
And Daeres of that royal ship,
The saucy (Incrriere.
And many and many a time I've seen
The two walk down the quay
With their yard-arms locked and their chapeans
cocked,
To gaze on the ships at sea.
But Daeres turned to Hull one day
And said : " They'd make a rare
Aud even stand-up single tight,
Those two ships lying there.
Now what say yon — it' the war docs
come,
As I think right well it may.
And the Constitution and (Inerriere
Should meet in single fray,
I'll bet yon a hundred pounds or .so —
A thousand, if you like —
The Constitution that blessed day
Will run or sink or strike."
But Hull said: "I am too poor a man
To bet a sum like that,
ILF. WE BAILED. Yet just for the sake of the stand
you take
I'll wager, say, a hat."
The Captains laughed as the bet was made,
And the ships soon sailed away
From their peaceful, pleasant anchorage
lu the bight of Lisbon Bav.
The trouble came, as we knew it would,
Aiul a joyous crew were we
When we said good-by to the old home port
And weighed for a cruise at sea,
For the Press Gang and the Search Eight
We had vowed to bear no more,
And we bade farewell to parley,
And welcome we bade to war.
Along the grim New England coast
For many a mile we sailed,
Aud ever a sharp lookout we kept,
But nevrr a ship we hailed,
Till five days out, in the first dog-watch,
We sighted a fleet of four
Big fighting ships that made quick sail,
And down upon us bore.
From their lofty yards and bending masts
The bellying canvas blew,
And at the mizzen-peak of each
The English ensign flew.
"We can't tight too many odds," said Hull,
" But ere the day be done
We'll show how a well-manned Yankee ship
Can lift up her heels and run."
Then ;ve called all hands
and we made all sail,
And slowly drew away
From the English vessels
that followed us
So sure of an easy prey.
But the winds
were light
and varia-
ble,
Calm fell and
all moved
slow,
The crowd-
ed boats of
the English
fleet
Took the
leading ship
in tow.
I stood by the
wheel with
a glass and
saw
That ship come creeping on,
And my heart was in my throat awhile,
For I thought that we were gone.
And the leading ship full well I knew,
The saucy Guerrirrc,
And Daeres stood in her port fore chains
With a confident, eager air.
And I felt despair for our gallant crew,
And woe for our gallant bark,
When a long cry came from the leadsman's lip —
"Thirty fathom, by the mark!"
Then a smile there came to the Captain's face,
And a light to the Captain's eye,
Aud lie sent his kedges out ahead,
Aud we made the capstan fly ;
We wet the sails down, fore and aft,
We jumped at the bo's'n's call,
We pumped out water for lightness' sake.
And stood by davit and fall ;
As every little catspaw came
We worked for the weather-gage,
And we kept those fellows alee, astern,
And in an awful rage.
For three long days and three long nights
They held us well, and then
A squall came up iu a thunder-cloud.
And we fooled those Englishmen.
For they, as its ominous frown they saw,
Stripped down to the bare, bare mast.
While we held on with our topsails full
To the teeth of the rising blast :
And. as it, struck us, we shortened sail
AND WE KEPT THOSE Ff.I.T.OH'S AI.EK, ASTEKX
1013
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
H|.:B DEOKb AIUC EKD WITH 1IEF. GALLANT DEAD.
At tlie Captain's quick command,
But as soon as the full of its weight we felt
We gave her all she'd stand ;
Anil merrily, merrily off we run,
And ere the day was done
We had left them all clean out of sight
In the wake, of the setting sun.
And Hull looked 'round the quarter-deck,
Aud forward he looked, and aft,
And he looked astern at the blank blue sea,
And he looked at the sky — and laughed.
And on through the summer seas we bore,
Until oft' stern Cape Clear
Our ship fell in with a sloop-o'-war,
A Yankee privateer.
We hailed for news, and the sloop hove to,
And off her skipper came
And boarded us in a leaky yawl,
With his wrathful check aflame;
For "Down to the south'ard he'd been chased
By a powerful English ship
That was just too slow for his flying heels,
And just too big to whip."
We sent him back with a cheerful heart,
And down to the south we swept,
And a sharp lookout o'er the vacant sea
Alow and aloft we kept.
One August evening we bowled along
In a fresh nor'wester breeze,
The rigging snug as along we swuug,
Aud rough were the tumbling seas.
And I was sitting with pipe in hand
Enjoying my watch below,
AVhen the mast-head lookout hailed the deck
With a loud and long, " Sail, ho!"
"Now, where away ?" the Captain cried,
And into the shrouds sprang we
To gaze at a speck in the distance dim,
Clear white on the blue, blue sea.
She stood along under easy sail,
She made us out and tacked,
She waited there with her lieadsails full,
Aud her big maintopsail backed.
We picked her up hand over hand,
We made her colors out —
That proud St. George's Cross we knew.
And we longed for the coming bout.
And Hull sang out. "To quarters, men,
For the fos we seek is there,
By the look of her lines and the cut of her jilj
I know the Hm-rrii-n- .'"
We shortened sail and for action cleared,
The flags to the breeze we threw,
Aud at each masthead and the uiizzen-peak
The Yankee colors flew.
Up iu the tops the topmen lay
With musket and grenade,
But down in the gloomy holds below
The battle-lanterns played.
Stripped to the waist each sailor stood,
His cutlass in his hand,
His long dirk loosened in its sheath,
His feet in the scattered sand;
The gunners stood beside the gnus,
Their matches all aglow,
With their ears bent back to the quarter-deck,
And their eyes upou the foe.
As onward to the <iiu-rri!-rv
The (.'oiixtHiitiun swept,
lietweeii the lines of brawny tars
Our tirst Lieutenant stepped :
" To save you all from the press, my lads,
For that we make the war,
And each must fight for the flag to-day
As he never fought before."
Theu up spoke one of the gunner's mates,
A grim old man was lie.
Who'd met the French and the Algeriues
Iu many a fight at sea,
Whose cheek was rough with a hundred storms,
Aud brown with a hundred suns:
"If the quarter-deck will mind the flag,
Why, we will mind the guns."
Oh, sweet to see was the English ship,
As up in the wind she came,
With her riggiug silhouetted out
Against the skies aflame.
Sudden she yawed, and from her bows
A puff of smoke there blew,
And, hurrying over their lofty arch,
The plunging missiles flew,
And each of us gripped his cutlass tight,
And each his muscles set,
And each looked hard at, the long bow-gnus,
But the Captain said, "Not yet."
Closer and closer drew the foe,
Her shot flew thick aud fast,
And, singing around our heads, a storm
Of musket -bullets passed.
We drew well up on her weather-beam,
And the roar of her guns rose higher,
And we saw her gunner's matches gleam,
And the Captain shouted, " Fire!"
With flash on flash, with a thunder crash,
Rang out our red broadside,
Aud the splinters broke from her sides of oak,
And scattered far and wide.
The smoke rose up to the high dim trucks,
As the battle fury spread,
But the men stood true, and the flags still flew,
In the mist at each masthead.
Deadly aud fierce was the fire we poured
Upon our sturdy foe,
And a cheer we roared as by the board
We saw her mizzen go.
Theu around iu the dying breeze she swung,
TUIt FIGUT 16 DUNE AND THE DAY IS WON.
1013
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
And her lion-sprit Icunneil o'erhead,
And fouled in our mizzen shrouds she hung.
And tin- battle, lightning spread;
\Ve heard the splinters ily below,
Where her :W-puundcrs played,
And the cabin was filled with smoke and flame
From her furious cannonade.
Then, long dirk ready and cutlass keen.
Up, up to her side \ve start,
But a breeze blows over the darkening sea
And swings the ships apart;
But readily 'round in the wind we go.
And steadily on we fall.
With grape and shrapnel and solid shut,
Anil pattering mnsket-liall.
And over her bows in the dusk we draw,
While, our terrible broadsides peal,
And her lingering rolls the gaping holes
In her shattered hull reveal.
Her sides we rend, our shot. x\ e send
Through shroud and spar and stay,
Till her main and fore, with a crashing roar
Plunge down to the spouting spray.
The fight is done and the day is won,
For a burning wreck is she,
But her decks are red with her gallant dead,
And never a Hiccr cheer we.
And over our side comes Dacres then,
Our brave but conquered foe ;
He passes on by the silent men,
And his head is hanging low.
He gains the deck, and he holds to Hull
The hilt of his gallant brand,
But the Captain waves the sword aside
And takes him by the hand:
"The true, true sword of a true, true man
Shall stay his own for ay,
But a hat I'll take when the land we make,
For the bet at Lisbon Bay."
And up in tlii, quiet sky the stars
Came twinkling one by one,
And over the quiet sea the moon
In silver sweetness shone.
Our sails were white in the peaceful light
As westward did we bear,
And a fiery shine on the dim sea-line
Was the last of the (ini-ri-it-ri-.
And here's to the skipper! — of all the men
That ever sailed the sea
There was never a one like Isaac Hull
To handle a ship, said we.
Anil that is the talc Unit teas toJd to me
I>y Ilif mini ii'itli tin iiin'ij qiii'iti',
Will* Kilt ll'it/l (I K/lll-l/lllXH ill llix llllllll,
.liul i/u:ril on I hi' ii-itlirx him :
His liuir ii'iix icliiti, lull I'i" i'il' inix bright,
^lllll sll'llii/lll WllH his Hllrilllt fnrill.
Anil hi* lii, 'il n nlil I'nn luii'i nliiliil it /fin;
(If till' hlltllr inn! till' .
TODDLETUMS HAS A DRKAM
OH, papa,
hear all
[>a, I had a bully dream last night. Want to
i r about it?"
"Why, j'es, Toddletums. Let's hear what it was."
"Dreamt I was dead, and playing baseball among the
stars "
" Well, Toddletums, I am sorry to hear you speak of that
as a ' bully dream.' "
" But it was. papa. I was no more than dead when I got
among a lot of spirits, big fellows all dressed in white, and
they knowed right away 'bout my being the best catcher
on the K'angtott-n nine, so the iirst thing they said was.
•Hurray! here's our great catcher at last,' and before I
knew it I was catching back of one of those big white id-
lows, and, what do you think, he was using the tail of a
comet for a bat. 'Way off in the distance (say, they have
awful big diamonds up there) was another fellow pitch-
ing, and all he did was to pluck one of the stars out of the
Milky Way and throw it at me for a baseball. Say, papa,
you've seen those falling stars? Well, they say they're
meteors. Now that's nonsense, 'cause they're the balls the
catchers up there misses.
"By-and-by our side (that's the Comets, you know) got
in. and the score stood 16 to 0 in favor of the Milky Ways.
By-and-by it was my turn at the bat, and I felt kind of
afraid, 'cause the comet's tail looked awful bright, but I
seized it and swung it round two or three times, and it
didn't burn a bit. ' One ball!' cried the umpire as the
pitcher sent a star singing past me (and it wasn't fair,
either. 'cause they pitched it when I was trying the bat).
I braced myself Tor the next one, and then that pitcher
thought he'd fool me. Making out to snatch a ball from
the Milky Way, be turned around, and, reaching 'way out,
what do you think he did? Why, he grabbed our woi Id.
that we're living on, and threw it at me with all his might.
Well, they couldn't knock out the Rangtowu catcher that
way. tor I just swung the bat around. and hi t t he old world
an awful crack. I bursted that comet bat all to pieces and
hit a foul. I looked up, aud there was the world a-comin'
right down into my hands. It was a tine chance, and I
couldn't let it pass, and I just caught it.
"All those fellows began yelling • foul!' and then I woke
up. And, papa, what do you think? I had fallen out of
bed, but I had a bully time, though."
PUDDING
STICK ^
irS,. .JL^ii,-r*«k;s. SaaBi
This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls anil Young Women, and the Editor will
be pleased to answer any question on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should
address Editor.
I~\O write a Pudding Stick about table manners." Why.
I / of course, dear Molly, I will, if you wish it, especial-
ly as you say you speak forthe girls of your Round Table
Chapter. I wish you would imitate Molly, and often sug-
gest the topics you like best — you young people of the
Round Table Order.
There is nothing very puzzling about Uie etiquette of the
table. One who knows how to behave elsewhere knows
how to behave at the table. The chief thing to be remem-
bered is that good manners everywhere rest on a strong
foundation of common-sense and kind feeling, and that no-
body is clumsy or awkward who is free from self-conscious-
ness. If one is thinking of herself and of the sort of im-
pression she is making, she will be likely to blunder. You
must dismiss yourself from your mind.
"BUT what bothers me," says Ruth, "is the fact that
there is no fixed rule about what to do, and what not to do.
Which is right, to take my soup-plate from the waitress, or
to let her take my empty plate and set the tilled plate in
its place herself? And in some houses you are helped to
salad, and in others yon have to help yourself when it is
handed to you. Is it rude to ask for a second helping of
something you like? or, when you decline a thing, is it
proper to explain 1hat yon like it, but it does not agree
with \ on .'"
As to the last of these little worries, my dear child, never
do ih.-n. Never tell your hostess or your friends that
lobster gives you cramps, and stuffed olives produce heart-
burn, and pastry causes dyspepsia. It is in the worst taste
imaginable to speak of these effects, and wholly needless.
You may always pass over or decline a dish of which yon
are not desirous of partaking. It is usually right to ask for
a second helping of some viand which pleases you, and
your hostess will consider herself complimented by your
doing this; but the exception is, when the meal is a formal
1014
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
one of numerous courses, and when you are doing so would
retard the orderly progress of the meal. In doubt about
any little detail, look to your hostess and follow her ex-
ample. The waitress is trained to certain ways, and she
will do as she is accustomed to; you have therefore no re-
sponsibility.
IN talking at the table, if the company is large, you
will usually converse more with your neighbor thau with
the circle as a whole. But at home and in the family, or
at the house of an intimate friend, you must do your share
of the entertainment. Save up the bright little story and
the witty speech, the funny sayings of a child, the scrap of
news in your Aunt Mary's last letter, and wheu a good op-
portunity otters, add your mite to the general fund of
amusement.
TIIEKB are dear old gentlemen — and old ladies too — who
have favorite stories which they are rather fond of telling.
People iu their own families, or among their very intimate
acquaintances, hear these stories more than once — indeed,
they sometimes hear them till they become very familiar.
Good manners forbid any showing of this, any look of im-
patience or appearance of boredom ou the part of the
listener. The really well-bred woman or girl listens to the
thrice-told tale, the well-worn anecdote, says a pleasant
word, smiles, forgets that she has heard it before, and does
not allow the dear mruiilciir to fancy that the story is be-
ing brought out too often. Good manners at the table are
inflexible on this poiut. You must appear pleased. You
must give pleasure to others. You must make up your
mind to receive gratification by imparting it.
ONCE in a while an accident happens at a meal. A cup
is overturned; some unhappy person swallows " the wrong
way " ; somebody makes a mistake. Look at your plate at
such a moment, and nowhere else, unless you can sufficient-
ly control your face and appear entirely unconscious that
anything has occurred out of the usual routine. Take no
notice, and go ou with the conversation, and in a second
the incident will have been forgotten by every one.
/
ON BOAED THE ARK.
BY ALBERT LEE.
CHAPTER X.
TOMMY stared for some minutes at the antics of the
Ibexes, and then turned to the ex-Pirate.
"How very odd!" he remarked.
"Very," assented the other. "Aren't you beginning to
feel sort of queer?"
"I don't notice any motion at all," replied Tommy.
" I don't mean that," said the ex-Pirate, looking reproach-
fully at the little boy. " But, personally, I am beginning
to become affected by all these animals. I almost feel as
though I could become a second Abon-Ben-Diu."
"A second Abon-Ben-Diu ?"
"Yes," continued the ex-Pirate, scarcely noticing the in-
terruption. "But I hardly think it would pay. I doubt
if there are any other craft hereabouts."
"What are yon mumbling about, anyway?" asked
Tommy.
"I was not mumbling at all. I was thinking of Abou-
Beu-Diu. Tin •)•<• was a pirate for you!"
"I never heard of Abou-Beu-Diu," said Tommy. "I've
read about Captain Kidd and theDey of Algiers, and lots
of others — but that's all."
"Well, it' you had allowed me to read the first sixteen
chapters of my autobiography," exclaimed the ex-Pirate,
becoming ,somr\\hat exciled. as he always did when the
subject of his autobiography came up, "you would have
known all about Abon-Beu-Din by this time. He was a
Hindoo."
"But can't you tell me about him now, just as well?"
pleaded the little boy, anxious to get another pirate story.
"I might," answered the ex -Pirate, meditatively. "I
might. It is a favorite story of mine, but I don't think
this is very good company to tell it in."
"Why is not it?"
But before the ex-Pirate could answer, the Lion arose
and roared so fiercely that the rafters shook, and mauy of
the birds fell from their perches.
"What does this mean ?" he growled. "What does all
this skylarking signify?"
"I'm not doing anything," put in the Skylark.
" Shut up," continued the Lion, even more fiercely. "This
banquet has not been adjourned yet. Why are so many
of yon standing and running about ? Everybody sit down !
I want you to understand that this is a continuous per-
formance— booked for forty days and forty nights — and
if some one does not perform pretty soou, I'll take a hand
in the entertainment myself!"
Everybody knew what that meant. There was only one
kind of entertainment that the Lion knew anything about,
and that was eating. He was very good at that, and he
cast his eyes about on the smaller animals gathered at the
board. But the warning was sufficient; there was a grand
rush for seats again, and a general inclination to be enter-
taining was displayed by all. Tommy and his companions
got their old places, but the Gopher was so frightened that
he retained his seat with difficulty, and he trembled so
that he was unable to keep his sun-bouuet on straight.
In the mean time the Lion was scowling and waiting for
some one to volunteer. His eyes fell ou the shaking Go-
pher, and he said, grimly,
"Don't you know another joke?"
The poor little animal almost fainted with fright, and
for lack of a better inspiration he pointed at the ex-Pirate
and gasped,
"He knows lots of things!"
And so the King of Beasts, who was rapidly losing pa-
tience, glared at the ex-Pirate and roared,
"Do something!"
The ex-Pirate hesitated; but Tommy, who was not feel-
ing at all comfortable, whispered :
" Give them Abou-Beu-Din !"
"That's a pretty risky thing to do," answered his neigh-
bor; " but I guess I shall have to. I can't think of any-
thing else." And so he arose in his customary way, and
bowing to all, announced that he would recite another
selection from his autobiography entitled,
THE BALLAD OF ABOU-BEN-DIN.
Oh. there's many a tale that I like to tell,
And many a yarn to spin,
But there's none 1 loi'c one-half so viell
As the story of Abou- Beit-Din.
For Abou-Ben-Din was a terrible man,
A blood-thirsty wretch through and through;
A pirate on quite an original plan,
And he captained a terrible crew.
Not a man did he have on his swift-sailing craft,
But a hundred ami ten wild bca-t-,
That snarled on the deck while Abou stood aft,
And steered them toward movable feasts.
For all day the brutes, with eyes opened wide,
Would eagerly watch for a sail,
And as soon as their vessel was brought alongside
They would swarm like rats o'er the rail.
Then after the lions and tigers had dined,
Old Abou would visit the ship,
To collect all the booty ami goods lie could find
Then drive his beasts back with a whip.
Thus it soon came to pass that the sailors were few
Who would sail in the India seas,
Where Abou-Ben-Din and his man-eating cretv
Were eager ami ready to seize.
1015
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE EX-PIKATE JUMPED UPON THE TABLE AND FIRED
But / was no coward, and none of my crew
Hud ever been known to show fear ;
So I said, "We will capture this nautical Zoo;
Toward Abou-Ben-Din let us steer !"
The men all agreed, and we started that dav
With cheering and waving of caps;
And down in the hold I had hidden away
A hundred and fifty steel traps.
TlK'sc were brought up on deck as soon as we spied
Old AUm-Ben-Din and his ship,
And were set and all covered with sawdust to hide
The teeth that were ready to grip.
Then the men went below and closed down the hatch,
While I clambered up on the mast,
Where, safe from the lions, 'twas easy to watch
What happened from first to the last.
Well, the pirate approached. He came alongside.
And the beasts all scrambled aboard ;
And I never have heard such cries as they cried,
Or such terrible roars as they roared.
Each lion was caught, and he couldn't get free,
Each trap held an animal fast ;
And the way that they struggled was fearful to see —
And / saw it all from the mast.
But Abou-Ben-Diu merely gazed in dismay,
And when he knew what had occurred,
He plunged in the sea, and
sank straightaway,
Without ever speaking a
word.
Ay, there's many a tale that
I like to 'tel/,
And many a ynni l<i ^fin.
But t/nrt'x nun: I love one-
lull f ,v»i //'ill
As the story of Abou-Ben-
liin'
There was a dead silence
when the ex-Pirate finish-
ed his recital, and Tommy
noticed that the lions and
tigers were shifting about
restlessly in their chairs.
He turned quickly to the
Gopher, and said in low
tones,
" They don't seem to like
it."
" I'm afraid it was a
trifle personal," answered
the Gopher.
"Perhaps we had better
retire," suggested the ex-
Pirate, prudently.
"Where can we go?"
asked Tommy.
" You can go to the
dogs," said the Gopher.
"You must not .talk like
that," observed Tommy,
sharply. He had heard
his Uncle Dick use that
expression before, and it
shocked him a little.
"Why not f" exclaimed
the Gopher. " The dogs
are all right, even if they
are down below. They
might be of some assist-
ance to us if the lions get
ugly."
"Oh!" exclaimed the lit-
tle boy, but before he
could say any more the
Lion coughed very fiercely,
and spoke to the ex-Pirate.
"How many lions and tigers did you say there were on
board of that ship ?"
"About a hundred and ten, I reckon," answered the ex-
Pirate.
" One hundred and ten," repeated the Lion, slowly.
"And you gathered them all in '!'' >
"We did. Every single one." The ex-Pirate's reckless-
ness staggered Tommy and the Gopher. Then the Lion
growled :
"That being the case, I think I shall have to gather //»«
in." And be arose, followed by the tigers, and began to ap-
proach the ex-Pirate and the little boy. The, Gopher be-
came. so alarmed that he dropped under the table and was
never seen again. Tommy was so scared that he could not
move. But the ex -Pirate jumped upon the table, and
drawing both his pistols from his belt, aimed them at the
approaching beasts and fired.
The flash, the bang, and the smoke caused Tommy to
close his eyes tightly for a second, and he felt as though
his heart had leaped into his throat.
When he opened them again he was sitting on the win-
dow-seat in his own room, and his mother was standing in
the door\\ a v
" You must not leave the door and the windows open at
the same time, Tommy," she was saying. "That causes a
draught and makes the door slam. Get ready for supper;
it is nearly tea-time."
THE END.
1016
SINTERSCHOL7KSTIC
THE FIRST MEETING OF THE NEW YORK Illterscliolastic
Athletic Association this fall will be held this after-
noon at Wilson and Kellogg's School. Of the many questions
that are to come up for discussion and settlement few can
be of greater importance than that of the formation of a
National Interscholastic Amateur Athletic Association, and
I sincerely hope that a committee will be appointed to con-
sider the best ways and means for carrying out the idea.
I have already said all I can in favor of the scheme, and
can only repeat now, at the last moment, that the forma-
tion of such an association will be of the greatest benefit
to scholastic track and field sports, and that if the New
York association fails to seize the opportunity it now has
for making history, in its own sphere, such a chance may
never present itself agaiu. In fact, I hear on excellent au-
thority that the New England League, upon the advice of
a number of Harvard graduates who still retain a lively in-
terest in school sports, is seriously considering the advisa-
bility of having the initial move in the formation of a
National Interscholastic League emanate from Boston.
AT THE MEETING of the High-School Athletic Associa-
tion in Worcester a week ago the important question as to
whether the Worcester High-School should secede from
the New England I.S.A.A. was not settled owing to lack
of time for a proper debate on the subject. It will prob-
ably come before the newly elected board of directors for
consideration, although many think a question of so much
importance should be brought before the entire association.
There seems to be considerable feeling over the matter, but
such a serious step should by no means be taken unless
the W. H.-S. athletes are absolutely persuaded that it is
for their own best interests, and for the best interest of
interscholastic sport.
THE POINT AT ISSUE is THIS: Last winter an attempt
was made to have the New England I.S.A.A. vote to divide
the two schools, and split up the points won at the recent
games, on the ground that they were two schools, and
should be considered such by the I.S.A.A. The W.H.-S.
athletes naturally combated the suggestion (which they
are persuaded emanated from their rival, the Worcester
Academy), and presented some strong arguments in defence
of their position. The principal reasons advanced for op-
posing the plan were that the two schools had but one
alumni association, one football and baseball team, and in
their field day competed class against class rather than
school against school. The students made such a good
fight, that when the N.E. I.S.A.A. finally met the motion to
consider the Worcester High-Schools as two institutions,
and to divide the points accordingly, was lost.
BUT, FOLLOWING UPON THIS DECISION, the W.H.-S. team
went down to Cambridge in June, and not only won the
championship at the Interscholastics, but scored twice as
many points as any two other schools in the association
put together. As a result of this the pro-division feeling
at other schools increased, and the W.H.-S. students now
fear the association may vote a separation of athletic in-
terests. Fearing this, there is a strong sentiment in favor
of withdrawing from the association before any such action
can be taken. This seems unwise, for there is no strong
reason to believe that the I.S.A.A. will take any such action.
THE SECESSION OF THE WORCESTER H.-S. would be a
serious loss to the league, for it is one of its largest mem-
bers and one of the strongest in athletics. Another reason
why W.H.-S. ought not to withdraw is the possibility of
Andover and Worcester Academy making an arrangement
for annual dual games — such as they held last year — and
leaving the N.E. I.S.A.A. for that reason. This would not
be sufficient cause for so doing, but there is talk of it both
at Andover and in the Academy. With the loss of these
three schools the association would not be so representa-
tive of the New England schools as it is now, and the
cause of scholastic athletics could not fail to be injured.
I hope there is more smoke than fire here.
IT is GOOD NEWS FROM CALIFORNIA that the bicyclists of
the Academic Athletic League are working for the forma-
tion of an association separate from track and field interests.
If the move is successful it will rid the latter sports of an
event that never really belonged among them, and, in ad-
dition, it will undoubtedly be of benefit to bicycle-racing,
which, if reasonably and properly conducted, should be en-
couraged. The Oakland High - School already has what
they call a "cycling annex " to their regular athletic asso-
ciation— a branch of the latter for the promotion of bi-
cycling, and for the management of bicycle races. This
annex has proved an excellent institution, and has served
to develop remarkable speed in some of its members, as
these records will show :
Distance. Time. Holder.
1-S mile, flying start, unpaced 13 3-4 sec. Colby.
1-4 mile, flying stnrt, unpaced 30 1-5 sec. Gopch.
1-4 mile, standing start, unpaced 34 3-4 sec. Childs.
1-2 mile, standing start, unpaced 1 min. 7 sec. Gooch.
1 mile, standing start, competition 2 min. 18 1-2 sec. Gooch.
2 miles, standing start, paced S min. 12 sec. Eenna.
Smiles, standing start, competition, road race 13 min. 20 sec. Gooch.
5 miles, standing start, paced 14 min. 19 sec. Kurtz.
AT THE MEETING of the Reliance Athletic Club, Septem-
ber 7th, Gooch rode third in the mile, Class A. The win-
ning time was 2 ruin. 18 sec., and the O.H.-S. rider was only
the length of his bicycle behind. On September 9th he
rode third to 2 min. 14J sec. in the Class A mile at San Jose".
The winner of both these races was an A.A.L. rider —
Squires of the Berkeley Gymnasium, who was second in the
half, Class A, at San Jos6, when a world's record was made.
The records of the O.H.-S., as given above, were made on the
Oakland Race Track, which is 100 yards short of a mile in
circuit, and has a straightaway quarter.
FOOTBALL IN THE NEW YORK SCHOOLS is slow in get-
ting a start this fall. Almost every other scholastic league
is hard at work in the field, but as yet scarcely any of the
school teams hereabouts have done any work. On L»ug
Island a little more activity is being shown, but not much.
The slight start they have over the New-Yorkers, however,
will be of benefit to them, and it is not rash to prophesy,
even at such an early date, that the Inter-City champion-
ship in football will go across the river, as the baseball
championship did this spring, unless the Mauhattanites
display an unusual degree of energy between now and No-
vember.
REFERENCE TO THE INTER-CITY game suggests that in
view of the three sets of football rules in vogue this fall, it
will be advisable for committees from the N.Y.I.S.F.B.A.
and from the L.I.I.S.F.B.A., to meet at as early a date as
possible to determine which set of regulations these two
leagues will adopt. For it stands to reason that if they
are to play a match in November they must sooner or later
come to an understanding on the subject of the laws that
are to govern the contest. There ought to be no difficulty
about this, the only important point being that the decision
should be reached at once so that every school eleven may
1017
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
get into practice, ami learn to play the game that is to be
required of them later.
THE ABSURDITY or HAVING tliree different sets of rules
lias already manifested itself among the colleges. Before
the game between Harvard and Dartmouth, which was
played ten days ago, the Captains of the respective teams
had to meet and powwow over what methods should hold
good in the contest. Of course, Captain Brewer wanted to
play according to the Harvard-Cornell-Penusy Ivan i a scheme,
but Dartmouth, having a Yale coach, preferred tbe Yale-
Princeton system. This difficulty will doubtless crop up
previous to every game played by one of the five law-mak-
ing colleges with the other colleges who had no say about
the revision. It is impossible, of course, for all the scho-
lastic leagues of this section of the United States to get to-
gether and agree ou uniformity of rules, and this is un-
necessary ; but I strongly urge neighboring schools to reach
some sort of an understanding, or there will be no end of
squabbles as the season advances.
OF EARLY GAMES IN NEW ENGLAND, Exeter was badly
defeated by Dartmouth College, Audover succumbed to the
Boston Latin School, and a few days afterward the B.L.S.
players disposed of the Charlestown High -School to tbe
tune of 16—4. B.L.S. has a strong team this year, beyond
question. The Charlestown players were confident of win-
ning before the contest began, but at no stage of the game
did they stand the slightest chance of success: Captain
Maguire, of B.L.S., did excellent work all through the two
halves. He made several long runs by good dodging and
fast sprinting, punted finely, and tackled hard. Teevens
found the centre weak, and banged away at it fora number
of good gains. Lowe and Nagle, too, showed tip well by
breaking through on the runner repeatedly, and making
holes large enough for the entire team to get through.
Ramsey was easily the best man on the Charlestown High,
making all the large gains, and being pushed over tbe line
for the only touch-down. Cnrley put np a good game at
quarter, making some fine tackles, and running the team in
good shape. Better arrangements should be made in the
future to keep enthusiastic spectators off the field. This
is an old-time fault of games between schools. The man-
agement of the home team should always consider itself
responsible for the policing of the field.
THE MOST IMPORTANT GAME of the New England series,
next to the final championship contest, was played at
Brookline, Friday, to determine whether Brookline High
or Newtown High should be the sixth member of the Sen-
ior League. As was partially anticipated in these columns
last week, victory went to Brookline; but Newton High's
defeat was much worse than I had supposed it would he.
The score was 22-0, and this showing was due much more
to Brookliue's steady preliminary work than to any great
discrepancy in the make-up of the two elevens. As a spec-
tacle the game was well worth watching, and the manager
of the B.H.-S.F.B.A. saw to it that the field was kept clear.
THE WEAKEST POINT in the B.H.-S. line was at right
guard, and the Newton Captain soon discovered this, and
sent his men cavorting into Talbot with good effect. Al-
most all of Newton's gains were made through here.
Brookline, on the other hand, did not play much for centre,
but managed to get around the opposing ends pretty fre-
quently, the last two touch-downs being made in this way.
Good individual plays were made by Cook, Aech tier, Seaver,
and Morse for B.H.-S., the first-named doing some especial-
ly brilliant punting. For Newton the best work was done
by Getting, Lee, and Forseu.
NEWTON FUMBLED A <;OOD DEAL during the game, and
many of their losses were due to this inability to keep their
bands on the bull. At times, however, Lee's men seemed
to be able to brace, making strong resistance at critical
moments. B.H.-S.'s second touch-down was only secured
after a stubborn fight. The ball had been rushed down to
Newton's five-yard line, when the N.H.-S men gathered
themselves well together and held their opponents for four
downs. But this did them small service eventually, be-
cause of their woeful fumbling. In the very first rush fol-
lowing the four downs the Newton runner dropped the
ball, and Seaver fell on it. In a few moments the second
touch-down was scored. If Newton had only persisted a,
little longer in bucking the centre during the second half.
I feel confident they could have scored.
THE CAMBIUDGE MANUAL TRAINING -SCHOOL defeated
Somerville High again last week, and put up some um.d
football. Somerville was unable to score, although they
played hard at times, especially in the second half, when
they got the ball within four yards of the opponents' goal.
The best ground-gainer for Cambridge was White, who also
did some hard tackling. Thompson got around the en. Is
well and interfered effectively, and Captain Murphy did
some excellent rush-line work, making most of the holes
through which he shot his men. Sawin showed himself
a level-headed quarter- back, and will doubtless till that
position for the rest of the year.
SOMERVILLE HIGH'S PLAY was very loose at times, and
tho men seemed to choose the most critical moments of the
game to do their fumbling. There was a noticeable lack
of team play, which must be remedied at once if Somerville
hopes to do anything in the championship series later on.
The backs did not interfere for each other, except on rare
occasions, and the C.M.T.-S. forwards had an easy time of it
bringing down the runner. It looks to me as if there was
too much of a desire on the part of these Somerville backs
to shine by brilliant individual work. That is a fatal am-
bition, and if it exists should be killed by the captain at
once. Football to-day is a game for team-work, and the
star player is a very rare bird indeed. In the first half
S.H.-S. had the ball only at the kick-off and after touch-
downs. They did not seem able to hold it. In the second
half they did better, and, as I said, at one time were within
threatening proximity to the C.M.T.-S. line ; but there is
much room for improvement with the Somerville men.
Good coaching is what they need.
IT WAS A HOT GAME that was played September 28th be-
tween Groton and the Boston English High-School. For
the first time in the history of the sport., Grotou met defeat
at the hands of a Boston Preparatory School. The Boston
team played a great game throughout, and won by their
strength of line, which -was impregnable for the Grotou
backs. In the first half E.H.-S. had the ball most of the
time. Groton got it but twice, only to lose it immediately
on downs. The E.H.-S. players were lighter, but their
team-work w-as much superior to that of Grotou. Calla-
han, Whittemore, Ellsworth, Higgius, and Murphy played
an extremely hard game, and the others' A\ ork was very
steady. The touch-down was made in the first half. In
the second E.H.-S. had the ball most of the time, but could
nut score.
THE CHAMPIONSHIP SCHEDULE for the Senior League of
the New England Interscholastic Football Association was
made out last week at a meeting of the Captains held at
the B.A.A., and the games will be played as follows:
English High— Oct. 29, Brookline High at South End
grounds; Nov. 12, Hopkinson at South End grounds; Nov.
15, Cambridge High and Latin at South End ; Nov. 22, C.M.
T.S. (grounds undecided); Nov. 28, Boston Latin at South
End.
Brookline High— Oct. 29, English High at South End :
Nov. 4, Cambridge High and Latin at Brookline Common :
Nov. 8, Cambridge Manual at Soldiers' Field ; Nov. 22, Bos-
ton Latin at Brookliue Common; Nov. 27, Hopkinsou at
Brookline Common.
Hopkinsou — Nov. 1, Cambridge Manual at Soldiers' Field ;
Nov.*. Cambridge High and Latin at Soldiers' Field; Nov.
12. English High at South End; Nov. IS, Boston Latin at
Soldiers' Field; Nov. 27, Brookline High at Brookline Com-
mon.
1018
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Cambridge High and Latin — Oct. 29,
Cambridge Manual at Soldiers' Field ; Nov. 4,
linxikline High at Brookline Common;
Nov. 8, Hopkinson at Soldiers' Field; Nov.
U, Boston Latin (grounds undecided) ; Nov.
15. English High at South End.
Cambridge Manual — Oct. 29, Cambridge
High and Latin at Soldiers' Field; Nov. 1,
Hopkinson at Soldiers' Field ; Nov. 8, Brook-
line High at Soldiers' Field ; Nov. 15, Boston
Latin at Soldiers' Field; Nov. 22, English
High (grounds undecided).
Boston Latin — Nov. 12, Cambridge High
and Latin at South End grounds; Nov. 15,
Cambridge Manual at Soldiers' Field; Nov.
18, Hopkinson at South End grounds; Nov.
22, Brookline at Brookliue Common ; Nov.
28, English High at South End grounds.
Tun JUNIOR LEAGUE SCHHDUI.E was not
made up, because of absentees among the
representatives, but it has doubtless been
arranged by this time. The number of
games will be greater this year than before,
and as a matter of interesting record this
table of matches played since the organiza-
tion of the League is here given :
Teams,
-
,
•
.2
I*.
;
1
Touch-downs fnilingGonls.
2
1
I
:
m
1
3
i
I
1
S
c
H
3
:
1
I
1888.
Cambridge II. find L
•ju
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t Two tied. J Forfeited.
ST. MARK'S HAS six of last year's men hack
in school, ami a number of promising can-
Several minor games have been
played, l)ut the chief matches will be with
Andover next week, and with C4roton, No-
vember 9th. At the present writing Gmtoii
has the better eleven, bnt the St. Mark's
players are working hard under good coach-
ing and will improve. Tin-: GRADUATE.
A JOKE ON THE MARINES.
AN old bnt a true story goes the rounds
in the navy concerning an uninten-
tional slur that was made upon a body of
sea-soldiers known as the marines, by a
venerable chaplain attached to the frigate
llni-lford, at the time that vessel was Ad-
miral Farragnt's flag-ship. It was the Sun-
day just after the terrible passage of the
Mississippi River forts, and iu his sermon
the chaplain sought to impress his large
congregation gathered on the gun-deck of
the vessel the fact of each one being re-
sponsible for his own salvation. In con-
cluding his appeal, and with his face rlusli-
ed from the warmth of his argument, he
turned to the gallant old Admiral, and ex-
claimed,
" Yes, Admiral, yon as well as the low lies!
of the seamen who are listening to me this
morning, cannot escape that individual re-
sponsibility ; and you, my dear associates of
the ward-room, and other officers, you also
must take this lesson to yourselves." Then
addressing the sailors, he said, "There is uo
man among you who can shift this i|iirM ion
to another's shoulders. Admiral, Captain,
otnVrrs, and seamen, you all have souls ti>
sa\ •(•.'' K'omrmbering that in his summing
up he had omitted all references to the sol-
diers of the ship, he hastened to include
them also by adding, "Yes, even a marine
has a soul to save."
The joke, although perfectly innocent,
was too rich not to tickle the congregation,
and a titter followed the chaplain's closing
sentence. From that day the poor marines
have been the butt of the sailors, who oc-
casionally find the greatest satisfaction in
reminding them that " Even a marine has a
soul to save."
Highest of all in Leavening Strength. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report
Baking
Powder
ABSOLUTELY PURE
ne £AJ> Co
Fall Styles.
CLOAKS, SUITS,
WRAPS.
Novelties in Paris and London-
made Wraps, Jackets, Walkin,/
and Carriai/c Dresses.
Latest styles city - made (/arments
for Ladies' and Misses' iaa>:
Ta!l«r- made Suits to order.
I Webster's S£S WfiS
International
Survessorof the
•• Uliabrklged."
IVEBSTER'S
i INTERNATIONAL J
.DICTIONARY,
A., C. <b CO. would invite at-
tention, to the changes made in
this department.
U c
J
NEW YORK.
1019
bridged.'
THE BEST FOR EVERYBODY^
BECAUSE
, It is easy to find the word}
wanted.
Words are given their cor- 3
rectalpliabeucalplHceB,each;i
one beginning El paragraph. *
It is easy to ascertai n t
pronunciation.
The pronunciation issho^vn by the ordinary dla-Jl
critically marked letters used in the Bchoolbooks.J
kit is easy to trace the growth of a word.
The etymologies are full, and the different mean-!
ings are given in the order of their development,^
Sit is easy to learn what a word means.
The definitions are clear, explicit, and full, ami (j
each is contained ia a separate paragraph.
G. i€r C. MERRIAM CO., Publishers^
Springfield, Mass.,
Harper's Catalogue,
Thoroughly revised, classified, and in-
dexed, will be sent by mail to any ad-
dress on receipt of ten cents.
HAEPEE'S ROUND TABLE
Bicyc/e route.
r bteyc/eroad.
*-•-»• Railway station
r poor road
BICYCLING
This Depai
s conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and the Editor will be pleased to
. question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain much valuable data kindly
supplied from the official maps and road-books of the League of American Wheelmen. Recop-
niziitR the value of the work being done by the L. A. W., the Editor will be pleased to furnish
subscribers with membership blanks and information so far as possible.
T^HE JOURNEY FROM SHANNOCK TO PROVIDENCE,
is the fifth stage of the run from New York to Boston,
is another short trip. Ou leaving Sliaunock the rider runs
out of the village from the southeast, and theu at the cross-
ing of roads keeps always to the left, moving northward,
and soon crossing a small stream. The run from this point
is unmistakable. A little more than three miles out he
crosses the stream again, passes over a bit of billy country,
and after crossing the railroad runs directly into Kingston.
Here a sharp turn is made to the north and left again, and
passing Mooresfield the rider runs on to Slocumville over
a moderately good road-bed, but through some pretty hilly
country. In fact there are several good hills between
Shannock and East Greenwich, all of which are designated
on the map. From Slocumville to Belleville through Al-
lentou is a clear course over a good road, bad in spots;
and thence the route skirts along the inlets of the bay
direct to Wickford. Wickford station and hotel are some
distance oif the bicycle route, but it is hardly necessary to
stop here, and the rider would better keep on direct to East
Greenwich, where a stop can be made for lunch or dinner,
with a little under twenty-five miles done for the morning's
run. The road from Wickford to East Greenwich is easily
followed if you take care to keep to the main road and do
not swerve to right or left. It becomes better as you pro-
ceed northward as to road-bed and hills. From East Green-
wich, the rider follows the shore of Narragansett Bay up to
Apponaug, and if he happens to run through East Greenwich
without stopping for dinner he can find a reasonably good
meal at this place, though 011 the whole East Greenwich is
a much more satisfactory spot. Side paths can he used
along this part of the road to great advantage at times,
though that goes without saying anywhere outside of vil-
lages or towns. On entering Apponaug the rider turns
sharply to the right into the village, and on leaving he
keeps on the same road, running eastward, until just before
crossing the track. At this point he turns sharply to the
left and runs up to Marlors, crossing the railroad there.
The road now1 runs along not far from the track, passing
Hillsgrove. Thence the rider should keep straight on to
Pawtuxet. On entering the main street turn to the left
and pass directly through the town, leaving Elinville on
the left, and soon afterwards, perhaps three miles further
on, running into the most distant suburbs of Providence.
It is some distance to the centre of the city, where the Xar-
ragansett House is a good place to stop. Indeed the jour-
ney winds about so that it is thirty-seven or thirty-eight
miles before you have made the run from Shanuock to
Providence.
IF THE RIDER is ONE who can easily do seventy or eighty
miles in a day he can make a short detour near the be-
ginning of the journey and spend part of the morning at
Narragausett Pier. On leaving Kingston, instead of turn-
ing sharply to the left at the junction of the roads, go east-
ward on the Mooresfield road, and take the first right-hand
turn. This will carry you to Narraugausett Pier in short
order, as it is not many miles away. In like manirer the
main road to Providence may be joined again at Alleuton
by following the secondary bicycle route designated.
NOTK.— Map of New York city asphalted streets in No. 809. Map of
route from New York to Tarrytown in No. 810. New York to Stamford,
Connecticut, in No. 811. New York to Staten Island in No. 812. New
Jersey from Hobokeu to Pine Brook in No. 813. Brooklyn in No. 814.
Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816.
Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie in No. SIT. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in
No. SIS. Hudson to Albany in No. 819 Tottenville to Trenton in 820.
Trenton to Philadelphia in S21. Philadelphia in No. 822. Philadelphia
— Wissahickon Route in No. S23. Philadelphia to West Chester in No.
824. Philadelphia to Atlantic City— First Stage in No. 825; Second
Stage in No. 826. Philadelphia to Vinelund — First Stage in No. S2I.
Second Stnge in No. 82S. New York to Boston— Second Stage in No. 829;
Third Stage in No. 830; Fourth Stage in No. 831.
Copyright, 1S95, by Harper &
HAEPEE'S BOUND TABLE
Any questions in regard to photograph matters will be willing]
answered by the Editor of this column, and we should be glad to he*
from any of our club who can make helpful suggestions.
PAPERS FOR BEGINNERS, No. 14.
MOUNTING FEINTS.
AS a rule all priuts should be trimmed
before toning. This is not only econ-
omy, but it simplifies the mounting process.
Aristo prints can be mounted direct from
the ferrotype plate or the ground-glass to
which they have been squeegeed to dry.
When thoroughly dry, paste the back of a
print, lift the corner from the plate with the
point of a kuife, aud peel off the picture.
Place the upper edge of the picture on a
line with the top of the card, aud let the
print drop into place. Lay a piece of tissue-
paper over the face of the print, aud roll
the squeegee over it very lightly and evenly,
taking care that no air-blisters are left be-
tween the print and the card-mount. By
monutiug aristo prints in this way oue avoids
getting paste on the face of the picture, aud
it will retain much of the gloss imparted to
it by the ferrotype plate.
Instead of drying the priuts before mount-
ing they can be taken from the water one
at a time, and placed face down on a pane
of glass, or the bottom of the toning tray.
After all are placed, absorb as much of the
water as possible with a piece of blotting-
paper. Apply the paste to the top print,
being particular to have the edges well
covered. Lift the print aud lay it on the
card-mount, and rub down with squeegee as
directed. When the pictures are dry they
cau bo buruisbed if desired. Card-mounts
come in all sizes, and the beginner usually
selects a mount the size of the print to be
mounted. Now a picture to look its best
should be mounted on a card large enough
to show at least an inch margin all rouud.
A 6X8 card is a good size for a 4X5 print.
Plain card-mounts of creamy white or soft
gray are much less expensive than the small
mounts with gilt or faucy edges, aud are
much more artistic.
Before mounting a print it is a good idea
to lay it on the card and see what best ac-
cords with the color. After the prints are
mounted write the name of the picture on
each. If written ou the back, which is usu-
ally to be preferred to the face of the print,
any item of interest about the picture can
be added. Do not mount a print unless it
has some claim to merit. An amateur is al-
ways being asked to show his pictures, and
it does not add to one's reputation as a
photographer to exhibit dismal failures and
dignify them with the name of pictures.
There is no use in perpetuating a failure.
When visitors ask to see your pictures do
not bring out every oue which you happen
to have mounted. A dozen well-taken and
well-mounted pictures are more appreciated
and more enjoyed than a large collection of
which one tires before he gets to the end.
Always have a few good pictures reserved
for yourself. One so often hears the excuse,
" Oh, I haven't any good prints," that it be-
comes tiresome. Make at least a dozen as
fine priuts as you cau, aud keep them for
exhibition, adding fresh ones as the old ones
become soiled.
Ct.Aiti ANDREWS wants to know what is meant b,
halation. Halation is the term used to denote the
spreading of light beyond its proper place ou the nega-
tive. In photographing an interior where the camera
is pointed toward a window the light from the windo
is reflected from the back of the negative, and makes
a sort of halo or fog round the picture of the window
Plates called non- halation plates are now made fo
the purpose of photographing clouds, windows, lights,
etc., without having this fog appear.
E. A. D. asks if there is a way to take a photograph
from an engraving, and how it is done. Copying pho-
tographs and engravings is very easily done. Place
the picture on a board, holding it in place with clamps
or letter-clips, and set the board upright. Arrange the
camera, and focus on the principal object in the pic-
ture. The picture must be at exactly the same angle
as the camera. If the camera is exactly horizontal the
picture must also be placed in the same position. It
is best to take the pictures out-of-doors, as the light
is more even than in the honse. Expose a little longei
than for ordinary landscapes or figures.
HARD TO UNDERSTAND.
HE'S got a pretty pinky cheek ;
He's fat and fair as Cupid;
But if / said things baby says,
They'd think ine very stupid.
And yet whene'er he says those things,
For twenty minutes after
The rooms aud hallways loud resound
With pop's aud mamma's laughter.
SICKNESS AMONG CHILDREN
is prevalent at all seasons of the year, but can be
avoided largely when they are properly cared for.
Infant Health is the title of a valuable pamphlet ac-
cessible to all who will send address to the New York
Condensed Milk Company, N. Y. City.— [Adv.]
ADVERTISEMENTS.
You See Them Everywhere
Waller Baiter t Go. Limited
The Largest Manufacturer of
PURE, HIGH GRADE
COCOAS and CHOCOLATES
On this Continent, have received
HIGHEST AWARDS
from the great
Industrial and Food
\ EXPOSITIONS
IN EUROPE AND AMERICA.
Caution: LV'Tmi?.^6.
'of the labels and wrapper^ on our
eoodi, coniumeri ihould mate fcure
itnat our place of manufacture,
nannlj. Dorch«»ter, Ma«».
it printed on «ach package.
SOLD BY GROCERS EVERYWHERE.
WALTER BAKER A CO. LTD. DORCHESTER, MASS.
Boys,
You must not expect to have a watch
build fires in the morning, or milk cows
for you, but the
"Rugby'Watches
are the handsomest watches ever made,
are perfect time-keepers, and
Are Warranted Every Way.
To thoroughly post yourself, send for
the " Rugby " Catalogue— you will get
a few points about watches that will sur-
prise you.
The Waterbury Watch Co.,
204 Waterbury, Conn.
OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT °f a«™rd
CILLOTT'S PEN Sat the CHICAGO EXPOSITION.
•AWAKD: " For excellence of steel used In their
manufacture, it being fine grained and elastic ; super-
ior workmanship, especially shown by the careful
rinding which leaves the pens free from defects The
mpering is t-xcellent and the action of the finished
ens perfect." (Signed) FRANZ VOGT.
(H. I. KIM BALL, Individual Judge.
Approved:- IYe.i'1 Ilrjnrlmentnl Committee.
I JOHN BO YD THACHER,
Chairman Exec. Com. on Awards.
gri
te
|)o0tage Stamps,
1(10 all dif. Venezuela, Bolivia,etc., only 10c.;
•21 ill all dif. Hayti, Hawaii, etc., only BOc.Ag'ts
w't'datBOperct. com. List FREE! U. A.
Stegniaiiii,5941CoteBriliame,St.Louis,Mo.
B. &
ogue at $'.
at 15c.
t. ^\ Telegraph Stamps (Forbes & Co.),
\U \J m full eel, used, 60c.; they cata-
it'j.uo. Full set Hoen & Co., 5c.; catalogued
I . I . PARKER, Bethlehem, Fa.
The Eight Numbers of the Franklin
Square Song Collection contain
1600
of the Choicest Old and New Songs
and Hymns in the Wide World.
Fifty Cents per Number in paper; Sixty Cents in
substantial Board binding; One Dollar in Cloth.
The Eight Numbers also bound in two volumes at
^3.00 each. Address Harper & Brothers, New York.
1021
HA'EPER'S BOUND TABLE
A Jamaica Sky fleeting.
I shall try and tell you about a Jamaica sky meet-
ing, given by the Garrison Gymkhana Club, I went
to about a week ago. The drive down there is
eight miles, and is very pretty. The hard while
road winds along, some of the way, beside a deep,
lovely, tropical valley with a narrow musical lit-
tle river leaping and tumbling among big gray
rocks, half the time hidden by the dense green foli-
age, and then springing out in a silver waterfall.
On the other side of the road the tall brown moun-
tains rise up almost straight, with jagged rocks
sticking out of them. A little beyond this are
broad fields, some planted in sugar-cane, and of a
brilliant green, others with tall golden-brown grass
sweeping to the foot of the mountains.
As we swing around corners we come upon oc-
casional squads of negro women peasants with
the customary baskets of miscellaneous products,
fruit and vegetable, on their heads, and some driv-
ing donkeys similarly loaded in panniers. They
scatter in all directions as our coachman cracks
his whip without deigning to slow up. At last we
reached our destination and took our places on the
grand stand. In front of us was a big square plain-
To the left, Long Mountain, while to the right lay
the Caribbean, its shores fringed with cocoamit-
palms. The centre of the field contained the re-
freshment tent.
The grand stand now began to fill up, and soon
the first race was called. While they were prepar-
ing for this we saw about a score of musicians in
zouave uniform marching up from the barracks.
These constituted the West India band. They were
all negroes, and some had brilliant-colored turbans
on, and some little caps with tassels. Lots of the
Nr\\i i^tle soldiers were there, and their scarlet
coats and white helmets made a vivid bit of color.
Officers on horseback galloped about with white
and red flags shouting out directions. The zouaves
were now in position, and the band-master, who
was. white, with a uniform to match, and a huge
mustache, soon started the music. We watched
him with delight as he kept time with his wand,
making the delicious gestures that only a baud-
master can make.
The racers were mostly polo ponies, mostly of
thirteen hands. I won two of the races ; one on a
little gray, and the other on a slender black with a
graceful head. We left after the sixth race, while
the band played with as much vim as if for the first
— " God save the Queen !"
GOEDON TOWN, JAMAICA. BEATRIE HAWTHORNE.
From a Knight in Japan.
In answer to your request, I will try to give you
a few ideas about Japan. Japan is an ancient isl-
and empire; but after the restoration the empire
was entirely governed by the Emperor Mustu-Hito,
uniil lie gave to the people a constitution, in 1S89.
rhe Emperor is assisted in the government by a
Prime Minister, a cabinet, and two bouses of Par-
liament. Tokyo, the capital, is a very beautiful
3ity, one reason being its numerous moats, walls,
xnd stone embankments, on which grow the odd-
shaped Japanese pines.
The parks are beautiful and very large, and have
nany grand old trees hundreds of years old. The
population of Tokyo is nearly a million and a half,
ind it contains a hundred square miles. It is very
not in summer and very cold in winter. Our raiuy
season is in summer, while our dry season is in win-
der. We rarely have more than two or three light
inow-storms a winter.
The persimmon and orange are natives of Japan.
jvhile there are grapes and figs in plenty, plums,
strawberries in season, a few apples, and tasteless
Dears. Yokohama is the principal .seaport, and
las 100,000 inhabitants. It looks very much like a
'oreisn city except for the tile roofs. The streets
it all the cities of Japan are macadamized and
Beautifully clean Yokohama contains 5000 for-
eigners, 200 only of which are Americans. The peo-
ple of Japan are so exceedingly polite and courte-
>us that they rival the French in that respect.
Phey are very industrious, and, as the late war has
)roved, are patriotic and brave. I suppose you
ire all as glad as I am that Japan has been victori-
>us, as I think that Americans take the side of the
Japanese. I have lived here six years, but was
born in San Francisco and lived there seven years.
TUKVU, JAPAN. CHARLES H. THORN, R.T.K.
Query for the Natural History Society.
Does any botanical member know the modern
classification (whether as animal or vegetable) of
the Tremella (Conferva gelatinosa), a green water-
plant? It forms in stagnant pools, and consists of
a number of filaments interwoven through each
other. According to the description, if one of these
is moistened and placed under a microscope, the
extremities rise and fall alternately, and move to
the right or to the left, twisting in various direc-
tions. Sometimes it forms itself into an oval or ir-
regular curve. If two are placed side by side, they
become twisted together by a peculiar motion. If
we are to believe the author, the plant has the nine
lives of a cat, for if a filament or mass of tremella
is dried and laid away for several mouths it will,
on being moistened, revive and multiply as before.
The plant was also known under the names of
Omnium tentrrima et minima and Aquarium limo in.
nascens. Can any member give me further infor-
mation on this subject?
VINCENT V. M. BEEDE, K.T.F.
HACKEITSTOWN, N J.
* * *
Prizes for Entertainment Programmes.
Two prizes of $10 each will be given by HARPEU'S
ROUND TABLE for the best programme for evening
entertainments. Of course the programmes must
be new. The performance should consume at least
one hour, and be open to both sexes, any age, and
from four to an unlimited number of people. Use
your ingenuity, and devise something funny and
interesting. Write the particulars of it in full, and
mail them to HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, New York,
uot later than December 15, 1895. Competition is
open to everybody.
A full list of all prizes will be sent to all who ask
for it.
Prizes for Music Compositions.
Four prizes are offered by HARPER'S ROUND
TABLE for music compositions, competition open
to everybody. The two first prizes are $5 each, in
inoney ; the two second, fifty engraved visiting-
cards, winners' names, with copper plate for future
use. Compositions must be plainly written on mu-
sic paper, and forwarded not later than December
15, 1895.
The following, " A Thanksgiving Song," requires
a hymn composition, with the four parts— soprano,
alto, tenor, and bass. Here is the first verse :
"For sowing and reaping, for cold and for heat,
For sweets of the flowers, and gold of the
wheat,
For ships in the harbors, for sails on the sea,
O Father in heaven, our songs rise to Thee."
The other one requires the soprano, or tune, and
piano accompaniment. Here is the first verse :
" We have an echo in our house,
An echo three years old,
With dimpled cheeks and wistful eyes,
And hair of sunny gold."
The concluding verses of both these poems will
be found in Little Knights and Ladies, by Margaret
E. Sangster. Verses here given are sufficient for
this competition, but those who may want the con-
cluding verses can procure the book from any book-
seller ; price, $1. Messrs. HARPER & BROTHERS are
the publishers, and will send the volume, postpaid,
on receipt of the price. Put your name and ad-
dress on the back of the competition, and say
whether you are over or under eighteen years of
age. There are no other conditions.
s> Ikinfcs. 8
No. 106. — A STUDY IN FLOWERS.
Tell me the name of the fatherly flower (1),
And of that which expresses permission, not
power (3),
Of the flower you'd wish, had you broken your
arm (3),
Of the one coining fresh from the daity and
farm (4),
1022
Of the church-going flower, in gorgeous attire (5),
And the plant you may use if the cow runs dri-
er (6) ;
The darling Billy (7), and the reverend John (8),
The grass beloved by every one (9),
The flower that bids you for money to wed (10),
And that which you often put on your head (11),
The flower composed entirely of hair (12),
And that both a dude and a beast somewhat
rare (13),
The dark-eyed maid (14), and the tattered tar (15),
The pilgrim of Israel come from tifar (16),
The plant full of money (17), and that full of
legs (18),
The one for which many a poor beggar begs (19),
The flower pretending to be a large stone (20),
And those worn by a man who lives all alone (81).
What flowers are for kissing considered the
best (22)!
And which doth a dear darky mammy sug-
gest (23 1?
Which does old Reynard wear on his paw (24)?
And what does a lady oft place on the floor (85)?
In what flower are various vegetables plant-
ed (26)?
And what weed is by fishermen oftentimes want-
ed (27)?
In what flower do many animals go (28)?
And which did the old Indian cast at his foe (29)?
G.V.B.
Where is the Richest Gold-Mine?
The Black Hills are in the western part of South
Dakota, and they extend a little distance into Wyo-
ming. The largest gold-mines in the world are up
in Lead City, a small town about four miles from
here. Silver is also found in some places. There
are some high rocks here in this city called " White
Rocks, "because they are of a white color. When
visitors come and learn the height (6000 feet), they
are filled with a desire to climb them. People often
give up other trips to have a climb up the highest
rock. Even invalids attempt the journey. You
pass the cemetery about half-way up.
We have firemen's tournaments here about once
a year. At these, firemen take the hose-carts (we
don't have fire-engines here, for our water-tank is
up on a high hill), and run races with other towns,
the prizes being money, of course. The tourna-
ments usually last two or three days. They have
coupling contests, too, where they see who can get
water first, and have nozzle on far enough to hold
the strain of the water. This is called the " novel-
ty coupling contest." The plain coupling contest is
without water. They have to " break hose," which
means to detach the nozzle from one end of the
hose and attach the nozzle to the other end.
DEADK-OOK, S D. ETHEL VAN ClSE.
1foanJ>.
There have been a number of contributions to
the Fund since our last acknowledgment. The
amounts have been small, but every little helps.
Here are names of contributors to date — two weeks
in advance of the date of this issue :
Dorothy and Pinueo, 5 cents ; Victor R. Gage, $3 ;
W. Stowell Wooster, 10 cents ; George Tempel, 10
cents ; William W. Mursick, 10 cents ; Rose, Louise,
and Mrs. P. B. Levy, Mignonette Karelsou, Hattie
M. lieidell, and Johanna Girvius, $1 ; Edwin J. Rob.
erts, 10 cents ; Christine, Ada, and Harry Norris, 30
cents ; Paul Barnhart, 10 cents ; Ursula Minor, $5 ;
Vincent V. M.Beede, 10 cents; Eileen M. Weldon,
10 cents; Florence E. Cowan, 10 cents; Maud I.
Wigfield, 10 cents ; Jessie Alexander, $1 ; Kate San-
born. 10 cents; Two Friends, 30 cents; Allie and
Julia Russell, 20 cents ; Thacher H. Guild, 10 cents ;
Frederick G.IClapp, 10 cents ; a member, 10 cents ;
the Winship family, 50 cents ; Mary D. and Belle A.
Tarr, 20 cents ; Erwin F. Wilson, 10 cents ; Charles
E. Abbey, 10 cents; Tom R. Robinson, 10 cents;
Chauncey T. Drlscol, $1 ; John C. Failing, 10 cents ;
Traoy French, 10 cents ; J. Crispia Bebb, 25 cents ;
Christina R. Horton, 25 cents ; Adella Hooper, 10
cents; John H. Campbell, Jun., 10 cents; Lyle,
Frances, and H. W. Selby, $1 ; Evelyn, Marianne,
and Lyle Tate, $1 ; Helen F. Little, 10 cents ; Nellie
Ilazeltine, 25 cents ; and Addie Brown, 26 cents.
Total, $17 65.
HARPEE'S ROUND TABLE
Thi3 Department is comlucted in the interest of stump and coin
collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on
these subjects so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor
Stamp Department.
SEVERAL correspondents have asked me
aiiimt plate numbers on English stumps,
and also the meaning of the letters in the
corners of the same stamps. First, as to
plate numbers. For many years the plate
numbers on English adhesive stamps were
printed on the margin only, hence they were
cut oft' the imperforuted sheets, and torn ott'
the perforated sheets, and are as scarce to-
day as the early U.S. numbers. By refer-
ence to the one shilling, 1865, illustrated
below, the figure 1 is fonnd on either side of
the portrait. This signifies that the stamp
has been printed on plate No. 1 of the one
shilling. Of the higher values few plates
were required, but of the one-penny stamp
about 150 plates were necessary. I hope to
1S62.
ENGLAND.
give in an early number of the ROUND
TABLE a fairly complete list of the English
one-penny stamp varieties, as now collected
in England. It will be very interesting to
see how scientific stamp-collecting has be-
come.
As to the letters in the angles. The one
penny and twopenny English issued in
1840 had letters iu the lower corners only,
the fourpeuny, sixpenny, and one shilling
had no letters. In 1805 all the stamps were
issued with letters iu all four corners. The
lower values were printed in sheets of 240
stamps, the first stamp bearing the letters
A B iu the upper corners, the next A C, the
next A D, etc. In the lower corners the
letters were reversed ; thus a stamp marked
F D in the upper corners was marked D F
in the lower corners. In the rooms of the
Philatelic Society, New York, complete
sheets of the one-penny English stamp are
to bo seen, each plate made up of 240 sep-
arate stamps. The labor involved in making
up these sheets was enormous, necessita-
ting the examination of many thousands of
stamps.
B. MAOKTSKN. — I hope shortly to print an article on
one of the stamps of Great Britain, which will give
a fair answer to your questions.
PHILATUS.
IVORY 5oAP
994>foo PURE
At all grocery stores east of the Rocky Mountains two sizes of Ivory Soap
are sold ; one that costs five cents a cake, and a larger size. The larger cake is the
more convenient and economical for laundry and general household use. If your
Grocer is out of it, insist on his getting it for you.
THE PROCTER & GAMBLE Co . OIN-TI.
"Napoleon"
Handsome,
instructive.
One of the new
Parker
Games
For Boys and
Girls.
"Innocence
Abroad."
" Waterloo,"
" Chivalry,"
" Yankee
Doodle."
ASK FOR THEM.
CARD PMNTCRIjjgp
hour. YOUcw mS mra^Nrith It. Aftjft™
pretty type, also Indelible Ink, Type Holder, Pads
and TweeierB. Beat Linen Marker; worth Jl.Oo.
iple nulled FREE for ]0c. stamps for poaUjcj i a
It uii'l large catalogue of 1000 Bargains.
B.H.Ingen,ollAiBro. 65 lortluodt St.N.T.CIt/
THE ARTISTIC TOP,
makes beautiful circles, also shows the motions of
the earth. Sent by mail, postage prepaid, for 35c.
Win. I). Hcnkel, 1214 Itaoe St., Philadelphia, P.i.
-A. rtocjviest. — Readers of /farmer's
Riuiiid Table will please mention the paper wheu
answering advertisements contained therein.
SOME NEW BOOKS
FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
A Life of Christ for Young People
In Questions and Answers. By MARY HASTINGS FOOTE. With Map.
Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $i 25. (Ready October //.)
Snow=shoes and Sledges
A Sequel to "The Fur-Seal's Tooth." By KIRK MUNROE. Illustrated.
Post 8vo, Cloth. Ornamental, $i 2s.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR:
The Fur=SeaI's Tooth.— Raftmates.— Canoemates.— Campmates.— Dory mates.
Each one volume. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Si 25.
Wakulla — The Flamingo Feather.— Derrick Sterling — Chrystal, Jack & Co.,
and Delta Bixby : Two Stories. Each one volume. Illustrated.
Square i6mo, Cloth, $i oo.
Oakleigh
By HLLEN DOUGLAS DELANO. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental.
(Ready early in
Little Knights and Ladies
Verses for Young People. By MARGARET E. SANGSTER, Author of " On the
Road Home, "etc. Illustrated. i6mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $i 2s.
HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers, New York
102
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
NOT PLEASANT.
I'M glad I'm riot a H»I-
lauder ;
I shouldn't like it much
To have to learn when I
would speak
To say it all iu Dutch.
THE BABY F.I.KPUANT ON RETURNING FKOM
HIS OUTING DKSIRKS TO LEARN HOW 31C(JU HK
HAS GAINED IN WEIGHT.
Tin: INDEX OF Tllr. AIAOHINK RKVOI.VEB so RAPIDLY,
OU-ING TO THK TJNUSITAL STRAIN, THAT Hit IS UNABI.K
TlIE MKOUANISM BEOOMK8 SO 1IEATKD AS TO
CAUSE THE MACHINE TO BUK8T,
A VERY UNSATISFACTORY WEIGH.
UNDER HEAVY EXPENSE.
" I GET an allowance now of twenty-five cents a week,"
said Jininiieboy.
"Good! Do you save it?" said the visitor.
"No," said Jitnmieboy. "I pay it out iu fines for being
naughty."
•
ILL LUCK.
' I'M always having had luck," said little Eeuheu. " Now
ANECDOTES OF THE
ABSENT-MINDED.
ANOTHER "absent-
minded man " item has
been received. This one
refers to Ampere, the fa-
mous mathematician, who
was noted for his absent-
mindedness. Ou one occa-
sion, it is stated that while
walking along the street
he mistook the back of a
cab for a blackboard, and
as a blackboard was just
the thing he needed at
the time, to solve a prob-
lem which had been vex-
ing his mind for some mo-
ments during his walk, he
made use of it. Taking
a piece of chalk out of his
pocket he proceeded to
trace out a number of al-
gebraical formula; on the
cab's back, and followed
the moving "board" for
the space of a quarter of
an hour without noticing
the progress of the convey-
ance. As to whether the
cabman charged him by
the course or by the hour,
or even at all, tbe item
does not inform us.
From the same source
we have the following
item : They have 'a good
joke just at present on a
well - kuowu lawyer who
is noted for his absent-
mindedness. He went up
his own stairs the other day, and seeing a notice on his
own door, " Back at two," sat down to wait for himself.
WlIIOH LEAPS TO HIS BEING SU6PKOTED OF AN
ATTEMPT TO LOOT IT.
TEACHER. " Can any one explain how the earth is
divided?"
WILLIE (with reri/ important air). "Between them that's
got it and them that would like to have it."
"No, Willie dear," said mamma, "no more cakes to-
just because I knew all my lessons by heart to-day, the night. Don't you know you cannot sleep on a full
teacher went and got sick, aud wouldn't hear them."
stomach ?"
"Well," replied Willie,"! can sleep on my back."
CERTITUDE.
WHEN I hang up the racket,
The paddle, and bat,
When my red Tarn o' Shauter
Supplauts my straw hat;
When the cranberry's ripe and
The turkey is fat,
Thanksgiving is coming,
I'm certain of that !
FRED. "What does the grocer do with the things he
sells ?"
BEX. " Ties them up."
FRED. "No; gives them a weigh."
WALTER. " Papa, how do you pronounce W-o-r-c-e-s-
t-e-r?"
PAPA. "Wooster."
WALTER. " Well, if Worcester is pronounced Wooster,
why isn't Rochester pronounced Rooster ?"
THE ICE CART
I LOVE to drink a glass of milk,
Or cider from the flagon,
But best of all I like to munch
Cracked ice behind the wagon.
TEACHER (to class in geography). "Can any one tell me
the principal products of the Sandwich Islands ?"
JOHNNIE (confidently). "Sandwiches."
1024
HARPERS
ROUND TABLE
Copyrigbt, 181*5, by HABPKB & BHOTHBBS. All Rights
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI. — NO. 833.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 15, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLAHS A YEAB.
HARRY BORDEN'S NAVAL MONSTER.
BY W. J. HENDERSON.
IT was a bright and beautiful moruing iu June, 1927.
The war between Venezuela ami Euglaud bail beeu in
progress just three weeks, and every one was •wondering
wli.y the big monarchy had not whipped the little republic
oil' the face of the earth. But the resources of the South
American country had been underestimated, and so had
the immense difficulties which confronted England in her
endeavor to carry on an offensive war at an almost inac-
cessible distance from her most trustworthy sources of sup-
plies, ami iu a climate which was formidable to her men.
She had succeeded in landing ;i small force of trained sol-
diers, fresh from her latest campaign against the Ameer of
Afghanistan, who had set up a new boundary-line beyond
Herat, and was consequently in hot water with both Eng-
land and Russia.
These trained Indian curry-eaters had penetrated a vast
forest in the interior anil had never come out, and it was
currently reported that half of them had perished in a
swamp, and the other half had beeu destroyed by fevers
and cobras. A strong fleet, under command of Vin -Ad-
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
niiral Sir Wallace Bruce, had been scattered by adverse
winds, anil two of the ships had fallen in with powerful
Venezuelan arniov-clads, and had been most impertinently
sent to the bottom. Others had sunk three Venezuelan
war-ships, lint the little republic had three better ours
aflo.it inside of a week, and experts said that they looked
very French.
The war had broken out over England's high-handed oc-
cupation of an insignificant island off the Venezuelan eoast.
The Venezuelans had been amazed by the proceeding, but
the Marquis of Wintergreen. the Foreign Secretary, had at
once declared that the island had been conquered and at-
tached to England by Sir Francis Drake in the course of
iiis first voyage to the West Indies. As Mr. Fronde and
•other English historians had proved that Drake was little
better than a pirate, this made every one laugh, except the
\Vnrzuelans, who said they were going to fight ; and they
<lid. As soon as war was declared, President Roosevelt, of
the United States, on the advice of Secretary of State George
1!. McC'lellan, Jun., called an extra session of Congress, and
the legislative halls at Washington so rang with patriotic
speeches about the Monroe Doctrine that the New York
Sun got out extras every two hours, day and night, and
had illuminated bulletins covering the entire front of the
building. Congress at length declared that the United
States must net as an ally of Venezuela, whereupon the
/•>'</« printed itself in red, white, and bine, and the World
despatched correspondents by special balloon to South
America. The President ordered the entire National Guard
into the service of the United States, and the various regi-
ments at once repaired to their camps of instruction and
began field drills. It was expected that they would be
fully equipped and prepared for service at the front in
about two months. The naval militia was also ordered
out, and immediately began a series of cruises alongshore
iu open boats, landing and sending signals in every direc-
tion every four hours. The officers clamored for coast-de-
fense vessels to man, but there were only four such ships,
iind they were all in dry docks undergoing repairs that
would take three mouths to complete. The Secretary of
the Navy issued orders to Rear-Admiral Ward to get the
North and South Atlantic 'squadrons to the Venezuelan
I'oasi as quickly as possible, and the Rear- Admiral an-
swered that he would be ready to sail by the end of Au-
gust.
As soon as the action of Congress had been taken, Harry
Bordeu, of Tickle River, went by express train to Wash-
ington. Iu the obscure sea-coast village of Tickle River
Harry was called a genius, and it was said that he had in-
vented things which would be worth millions to the gov-
ernment in such an emergency as that which had now
arisen. It was to lay before the Secretary of War one of
these inventions that the young man had gone to the cap-
ital. He had exhibited a small working model of his con-
trivance to several wealthy men of his native State, and
they had forthwith invented enough money in it to enable
the young inventor to build a full-fledged machine, and to
go to see the Secretary about its employment in the im-
pending conflict. Harry Borden was a good talker, but he
could not talk the government of the United States into
prompt action.
" My dear young friend," said the Secretary, " I am sure
that your invention \\ill pro\e of inestimable value to the
United States in time of war."
•• It's the time of war now, isn't it ?" said Harry.
"Yes, yes, to be sure; but this is a matter which must
be laid before Congress, and a bill must be introduced re-
garding it. I should advise you to see the Congressman
from your district about that. I will give you a letter to
him saying that I heartily approve of your machine."
"But, sir, while all this is going on we are losing valu-
able time. My machine ought to be down there damaging
the eiiein\
••Really, my dear young friend, yon must allow tilings
to take their course."
" Why can't you give me permission to go ahead on my
own hook ?"
"Embark in private warfare? Privateering is out of
date, my young friend. But, ah — urn — I may say that — ah
— if you should go down there' and succeed in indicting
serious damage on the British fleet, I think — mind, I say
only that I think- -the government would, ignore the ir-
regularity of the proceeding."
"That's enough for me," said Harry, springing to his
feet. "If my hackers will consent. I'll be there in less than
a week ; ami. mark my word. sir. you'll hear of my machine
down there, sir."
And before the astonished Secretary could say more,
Harry Borden had bounded from the room.
The British cruiser Ajn.r III. was steaming at a speed
of ten knots through the bine waters of the Caribbean
Sea. She had been carrying certain despatches of grave
importance from Vice-Admiral Sir Wallace Bruce to the
liovernor of Jamaica, and was now returning in a leisurely
manner, which told of economy in the coal department.
The Ajaf III. was an armored cruiser of about liOOO tons.
She carried armor eight inches thick on lief sides, and had
a steel protective deck four inches thick. Her main bat-
tery consisted of four improved Smith -Dodge-Hopkins
8-inch rapid-firing breech-loaders, capable of discharging
four of the new steel-iridinm conical projectiles every min-
ute, with a point-blank range of two miles, and an initial
velocity of 3000 feet per second. Her secondary battery
consisted of six 4-inch revolving guns, discharging seventy
shells a minute when operated by electricity. The cruiser
had the new compound quintuple engines, capable of driv-
ing her twenty-six knots an hour nuclei1 forced draught.
On the whole, she was regarded as a fairly efficient vessel,
though some of the leading British critics declared that
she belonged to a type that was fast becoming obso-
lete.
She was moving gently and steadily through the water.
The sun was shining brightly, and his gleaming rays made
sparkling light along the cruiser's polished brass-work and
on the brown chases of her long slender guns. Captain
Dudley Fawkes was pacing the after-bridge in conversa-
tion with his Executive Officer, Commander Bilton-Brooks,
and Lieutenant Sir Edward Avon was the officer of the
watch on the main bridge.
" I don't believe," said Captain Fawkes, " that the United
States means seriously to take a hand in this tight."
" I don't know about that," responded Commander Bil-
ton-Brooks. "Congress has taken action, aud the Presi-
dent has called out troops."
"True enough," rejoined the Captain, " but that does
not necessarily mean anything. Yon know the navy must
be the aggressive force, and we have yet to see an Ameri-
can ship afloat in these waters."
"That is quite true," said the Executive Officer; "yet,
for the life of me, I can't help feeling that there is mischief
of some sort in the air."
The Executive Officer's words were more nearly correct
than even he suspected, for at that very instant the two
lookouts iu the foretop were puzzling their eyes and brains
to make out a strange object which had appeared on the
lee beam. While they were watching it, it dropped from
the air, where it had seemed to be floating, and rested on
the bosom of the sea, where it presently resolved itself into
a cutter-yacht some sixty feet in length.
"It were a bloom in' mirage, Bill," said one lookout to
the other, as he lifted his voice and bawled, " Sail, ho !"
"Where away?" came the quick demand from the bridge.
" On our lee beam, sir," answered the man. " Looks like
a cutter-yacht, sir."
Now in the year 1927 a cutter-yacht was something of a
curiosity, for electricity had supplanted sail-power for small
craft, and vessels propelled by canvas were rare indeed.
The cutter-yacht seen from the decks of the Ajus HI. was
on the, port tack, close hauled and heading so as to intei-
cept the cruiser's course, provided she had speed enough,
which was wholly unlikely. She was under full canvas,
and though the breeze was very light, she slipped through
the smooth water at an amaziug speed. This fact dawned
on the minds of the Captain and his Executive Officer at
the same time.
1020
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
'• She must Lave an auxiliary electric screw," said Com-
mander Bil ton -Brooks.
" I fancy so." said the Captain. " Owned by some fellnw
•who likes to think lie's sailing, but has no patience with
light breezes. It's rather curious, though, that he should
be eriiising in these waters at a time like this, isn't it ?"
"It certainly is," answered the Executive Officer. "I
don't see any flag — do yon. sir .'"
" No. I rather fancy I shall Lave to overhaul this yacht,
and make her skipper give an account of her. There's a
mysterious air about her tLat I don't half like."
But it was a good deal easier to talk about overhauling
the cutter than it was to do it. The yacht's sails, which
•were made of some extremely light material, like Chinese
silk in appearance, were drawing powerfully, and her elec-
tric motor — if it really was electric — was doing astound-
ing work. The yacht flashed through the water like some
great fish, and so fine were her lines that she left hardly a
bubble in her wake. The Captain of the Ajax III. gave
orders to increase the speed of the cruiser, and presently
the quick throbbiug of her engines aud the vibrations of
her hull told that she was tearing across the long swells at
& 25-knot speed. But still the cutter-yacht flew along, and
it was evident that she would pass across the cruiser's bow
if both held their courses.
'• We must stop her lively skipping," said Captain Dudley
Fawkes, aud he gave orders to souud the call to quarters.
The l.ugle rang out, and the hearty British tars jumped to
their stations.
"Cast loose aud provide!" ordered Commander Biltou-
Brooks.
The ammunition hoists slipped noiselessly upward bear-
ing the steel -iridium shells for the 8-inch guns, and the
electric chains hauled up the 70-pouuders for the secondary
battery. In forty-five seconds the ship was ready to fight,
and the order was given to train all forward guns on the
cutter and stand by for orders. Then the Captain and his
KM mtive Officer turned their glasses once more on the
cutter.
"What on earth is she up to now?" exclaimed the
Captain.
" Taking in sail — and spars, too!" cried Commander Bil-
ton-Brooks.
It was true. Not only had the strange cutter let all Ler
thin sails run down, but she seemed to have folded up her
mast, boom, gaff, aud bowsprit in some strange way aud
stowed them out of sight.
" Has she shown any flag yet ?" asked the Captain.
•• None that I Lave seen, "answered tLe Executive Officer.
" Then I'll wager a month's pay that she's some Yankee
invention," declared Captain Dudley Fawkes.
"What in the world are they doing now ?"said the Ex-
ecutive Officer.
A strange misshapen mass was rising above the bulwarks
of the cutter with surprising swiftness.
''It's a balloon !" exclaimed the Captain.
" Hadn't we better open fire on her ?" asked the Execu-
tive Officer.
"Not yet. I tLink we'd better get close enough to hail
her first," answered the Captain. "Slie may not be any-
thing more than a pleasure craft, you know."
The balloon was inflated by this time, and was tugging
at the heavy steel hawsers by which it was attached to the
•cutter's hull. A cry of surprise broke from the crew of the
British cruiser.
"Look! look! She's going up!"
The great balloon, inflated with the newly discovered
gas, mercurite, the lightest aud most powerful of all known
gases, was lifting the cutter bodily into the air. Her
curiously shaped Lull, modelled after a shark's body, aud
equipped with a fin-keel for sailing on the wind, was now
fully revealed. At the same instant a United States eusign
was waved over her stern by a young man.
" Mr. Curtis." called the Captain, who had not thought it
necessary yet to euter the couniug-tower, "give Lim a taste
of your metal."
" Ay, ay, sir," answered the Lieutenant in command of
the forward 8-inch guns.
TLe next instant there was a terrific concussion, and one
of the big sheHs went screaming toward the cutter: lint
she was rising so fast that the projectile passed under ln-i.
and plunged foaming into the sea a mile away.
•• More elevation, sir," cried the Executive Officer.
"Impossible!" answered Lieutenant Cortis ; "we're too
close to her, and the angle is too high."
"Look at her now!" exclaimed the Captain. " SLe's rush-
ing toward us!"
'•Sailing against the wind with a balloon !" cried Com-
mander Bilton-Brooks.
The shark-bodied cutter, with her fin-keel below and her
balloon above, was indeed now moving toward a position
above the cruiser.
" Call away the riflemen !" cried the Captain.
The red-coated marines assembled on the superstructures,
aud began a rapid tire at the balloon, hoping to burst it.
But their bullets simply glanced off the fine steel netting
with which it was protected. Now the head of the young
man once again appeared above the bulwarks of the strange
machine, and he took a rapid glance at the British ship.
The next instant a small port in the cutter's side opened,
and from it dropped a glass globe about half the size of a
football. TLe globe fell upon the forward deck of the
cruiser. There was an appalling explosion, aud the whole
forecastle of the Jjax III. became a hopeless wreck. An-
other globe was hurled with such fatal accuracy that, it fell
down one of the smoke-stacks of the now helpless vessel.
There was a roar as of thunder away down in Ler engine-
room, and pale-faced men poured on deck.
"We're sinking! The ship's bottom is blown out!" they
cried. There was a wild rush to lower away the boats. A
few minutes later the J /'«.>• 111. sank out of sight under tLe
blue waters of tLe Caribbean Sea. and Harry Bordeu, with
his balloon stowed and his canvas spread again, was sail-
ing away with a few survivors of the ill-fated cruiser in
his strange invention in search of more British cruisers. A
month later the war was over.
THE BILBERRY SCHOOL EXHIBITION.
BY SOPHIE SWETT.
SIMPSY JUDKINS was to "speak a piece," aud Viola
Treddick to read an original composition ; there was
to be a glee sung by picked voices from the first class — it
was all about the deep blue sky, aud ': the sky, the sky, the
sky," was repeated in a very thrilling and effective man-
ner ; and Tom Burtis was to display his powers as a light-
ning calculator. The exhibition was to be given in the new
Town-hall, aud not only would all Bilberry be there, but a
crowd of people from the adjacent towns as well, to say
nothing of teachers and pupils from the Normal School at
Cocheco ; for the Bilberry Hill School exhibitions had ac-
quired a reputation.
In the Treddick family the girls had been obliged
to take the family burden upon their shoulders. When
Father Treddick died, somewhat less than a mouth after
Mother Treddick, turning his face to the wall, and saying
that she had been his backbone and Lis underpinnin', and
he couldn't live without her (it sometimes happens that
way in spite of Mother Nature), the rocks still had the up-
per hands on the little farm, and Amasa,tLe only boy,
was but eleven. Lizette, who was fifteen, went to work
in the stocking factory. Every one thought it was a pity,
because Lizette was fond of books and had meant to be a
teacher; she was slight and delicate, too, and work in the
stocking factory was hard. But Lizette believed in doing
" not what ye would, but what you may." with just as good
a will as if it were the former. Some people said sLe had
taken warning by her father's example; he had always
been trying to invent something in his queer little work-
shop that was the wood-shed chamber: that was why the
rocks had not been gotten out of the farm.
It was Viola who was now spoken of as a remarkably
fine scholar, just as Lizette had been before she went into
the factory ; she was not yet sixteen, but she Loped !•
the Pine Bank School to teach in September. There were
1027
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
several other candidates, all older than she, but Viola was
at the head of her class, and that original composition
which she was to road at the exhibition was expected to
make an impression upon the committee-men. The teacher
had said to several people that it was really a remarkable
production for a girl of Viola's age, and the}' thought a
great deal of literary gifts in Bilberry.
Lizette was very proud of Viola, and so, indeed, was
Amasa, who was fourteen now, but whose name was not on
the programme at all. To tell the painful truth at once,
although Amasa keenly felt the especial need there was
that he should be "smart," although he tried his best to
be the man of the family in a satisfactory sense, yet he was
at the very foot of his class; fractions floored him, and he
had a hazy idea that Timbuctoo was out West, and that
Captain John Smith discovered America. When it came
to chopping wood, Amasa was pretty sure to cut his toe, and
if he went fishing he tumbled into the pond. And he
couldn't get "jobs," like Cosy Priugle, the hoy in the next
house, who had money in the bank.
Cosy Pringle boasted that he always "came out top of
the heap" ; but some people thought he was too "smart."
When the exhibition day came, although Simpsy Jud-
kius had been announced to "speak a piece," it was Cosy
Pringle who spoke it ; there was a report that he had hired
Simpsy to have a sore throat. Simpsy had oratorical gifts,
but he did not feel the advantages of appearing in public
and having his name in the paper, as Cosy did. Cosy held
the second rank in declamation, so Sirnpsy's sore throat
gave him an opportunity to be heard. He wasn't second
in his class; he came sympathiziugly near to Amasa there ;
but he had carefully weighed opinions — which he some-
times confided to Amasa — concerning the amount of study
that " paid."
Mother Nature provided one of her loveliest days, as she
is apt to do for school exhibitions in June. The girls, in
fleecy muslin clouds, were so much iu evideuce that the
boys, iu the background, were only a little hampered by
the embarrassment of full dress. Cosy Priugle wasn't
hampered at all; he wore his grandfather's large gold
chain and his sister Amanda's mooustoue ring, and felt that
he ought to attract as much attention as the girls.
Cosy's voice was a little thin and sharp, but he recited
one of Macaulay's lays with a great deal of " r-r-rolliug
drum" very well indeed, having been thoroughly coached
by his sister Amanda and the young minister to whom
Amanda was going to be married.
But beyond a little mild clapping, the recitation received
no attention whatever, while Viola Treddick's composition
was, as the Bilberry Beacon reported, received with the
greatest enthusiasm. It was ou " School-girl Friendships,"
and there was some real fun in it ; and once iu a while it
was pathetic, or, at all events, the audience laughed and
cried, and they couldn't really do that, as Cosy averred
they did, because they liked Viola. It closed with a verse
of original poetry, and Bilberry began to feel sure that a
great poet was to arise iu its midst.
Lizette stopped and hugged Amasa behiud a juniper-
tree ou the way home from the exhibition. Viola had
staid to a spread that was giveu to the pupils and their
friends ; Lizette Lad to hurry back to her work in the fac-
tory ; and Amasa had felt that he did not shine in society.
Amasa could not remember ever to have seen Lizette cry
for joy before ; she was not one of the crying kind, anyway.
" She'll have a chance ! Viola will have a chance ! She'll
get the Pine Bank School," she said, rapturously. " I've
been so afraid she would have to go into the factory."
Amasa realized suddenly how hard life was for Lizette.
Her delicate hands were calloused and knobby, and her
shoulders beut ; she looked wistfully at the library books,
and never had time to read ; she knew that she wasn't
strong, and she was anxious about their future — Viola's
aud his.
It was the very next uight, as Amasa was going to bed,
that Cosy Pringle came under his window aud called to
him. Amasa went down aud unfastened the door, aud
Cosy followed him up stairs.
He seemed excited aud nervous, and kept saying " 'Sh !"
though there was no one stirring in the house. But it wa*
like Cosy to have some mysterious scheme ou foot. Amasa
thought that hr had at last discovered lion- Pember Tib-
brtts made his musk-rat traps, or guessed the conundrum
in the Count// Clarion, for which intellectual feat a prize of
five dollars was ottered. Or perhaps he had secured the
job of weeding Mr. Luke Motion's ouiou bed aud hoeing his
string-beans ; last year he was paid three dollars for the
job, aud hired Amasa to do the work for seventy-five cents.
Amasa stoutly resolved not to be the victim of Cosy's sharp
business methods this year.
But Cosy's shrewd gray eyes had a twinkle that meant
more than onion-weeding or any "jobs."
"That was an awful nice composition that your sister
wrote," he said, iu an easy, complimentary manner.
Amasa nodded, brightening; it was more like Cosy to
make a fellow feel small about his sisters and all his pos-
sessions.
"Folks are sayiug that she'll get the Pine Bank School,
if Elkauah Rice, that's school committee, does waut it for
his niece. A good thing, too, for Lizette is pretty well
worn out taking care of you all." Cosy wagged his head
with great solemuity. "Aunt Lucretia said she shouldn't
be surprised if she got consumptive, like her mother, if
she worked too hard."
Amasa's heart seemed to stop beating, aud a choking
lump came into his throat.
"But Viola Ml get the school fast enough," continued
Cosy, "if — if folks don't find out that she copied the com-
position."
"Copied the composition !" Amasa's brows came togeth-
er iu a fierce scowl, aud he arose from the side of the bed
where he was sitting, and advanced upon Cosy with a
threatening gesture.
"Now just look here before you go to making a turkey-
cock of yourself," said Cosy, drawiug a newspaper from his
pocket. " I happened to go down to Gilead this afternoon
to swap roosters with Uncle Hiram — made him throw in
a pullet and a watering-pot because my rooster had a
bigger top-knot than his. There was a pile of newspapers
in the wood-shed, aud I went to get one to wrap up some
things that Aunt M'lissy was sendin' to mother, aud I came
across this. 'School-girl Friendships' caught my eye. See!
it's signed 'Lilla Carryl.' Auut M'lissy said she believed
'twas a girl over to Gilead Ridge. That paper is two years
old now, and Gilead being ten miles away, I suppose Viola
thought nobody would ever find her out!"
"She never did such a thing! Don't you dare say she
did!" cried Amasa, hoarsely.
But there it was iu black aud white ; there it was word
for word. Ainasa kuew every word of Viola's composition,
he had been so proud of it. Cosy whistled softly, with his
hands in his pockets, as Amasa ran his eye over "School-
girl Friendships."
" There's some mistake," faltered Amasa. " Viola is the
honestest girl."
Cosy's whistling ended in a sharp, expressive, little cres-
cendo squeak. " There's no telliug what girls will do," he
said, sagely. "When folks know it, why, Elkauah Rice's
niece will be pretty apt to get the Pine Bank School,
aud I'm kind of 'fraid Viola '11 have to take a back seat al-
together. It'll come hard on Lizette."
Cosy folded the Gilead Gleaner, aud thrust it firmly aud
impressively into his pocket. Amasa had been acquainted
with Cosy Priugle siuce they were both in long clothes, and
he understood that that paper had its price. If he could
pay the price, why, eveu Lizette need never kuow !
"I suppose it's my duty to show this paper," said Cosy,
with an air of unflinching virtue, "but still, amongst old
friends, and if you'll do a little good turn for me that you
cau do as well as not, why, I'll just chuck the paper into the
fire, aud agree not to tell anybody, aud we'll call it square.
I ain't a mean feller."
Amasa's heart thrilled with hope. What was the good
tifru that he would not do for Cosy on those terms? He
thought of his fan-tailed pigeons, aud of his dog Trip ou
whom Cosy had always had his eye because he could do so
many tricks; it would be an awful wrench to part with
1028
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Trip, but to save Viola from disgrace he would not hesi-
tate.
"I only want to go into your wood-shed chamber for a
few minutes. There's — there's something there that I
waut to see. If you'll let me, why, nobody shall ever
know about Viola's cheating."
"It's father's old workshop; there's nothing there,"
Aiuasa said. " Nobody ever goes near it hut Lizette."
Cosy hesitated a little, then he decided that it would be
as well to be more frank ; Amasa was so stupid. " She's
up to something, Lizette is," he said, in an impressive
whisper. "I've seen a light burning in that workshop
half the night! She's trying to make an improvement on
the knitting-machine that they use in the factory. Of
course she can't do it — a girl ! — but you'd better look out or
it will kill her, just as it killed your father. How do I
Amasa spent three miserable days, filling the wood-box so
assiduously that Viola asked him if he thought she was
going to bake for the County Conference, and hoeing the
string-beans, until Lizette was tenderly sure that his back
ached, and advised him to go tishing.
But a 1 10 may have troubles of the mind which even
fishing cannot cure.
Lizette came home from her work with a radiant face
ou the third day. " Amasa, how came you to let Cosy
Pringle go into the work-shop?" she exclaimed. "But I
can't scold you, it has turned out so beautifully ! I have
been trying a little invention — oh, for a long time! I
never thought it could really succeed !" Lizette looked as
fresh aud bright as if all the work and care had been a
dream. "Cosy saw it and told Thad Norcross. It seems
he and Thad had been trying to do the same sort of thing
•VIOLA; AMASA: IIE SAYS IT MAY BIS WORTH A GKEAT DEAL OF MONEY:"
know what she's doing .' She told Emily Norcross" — Emily
Norcross was the daughter of the owner of the factory —
'• and Emily told Thad. Thad and I been trying too. We've
got things fixed now so'st we expect to get a patent. What
I waut to see is whether she's got anything that's likely to
interfere with us ; of course she hasn't really, but then girls
think they can."
Amasa felt desperately that this was too great a problem
to suddenly coufrout a fellow like him whom every one knew
to be stupid. It seemed a trifle, but Cosy Priugle would
want nothing but a good bargain. Still, there was no other
way ; disgrace to Viola would mean, heart-break to Lizette.
"Give me the paper," he said, gruffly, and thrusting it
into his pocket, he led the way softly through the corridor
to the wood-shed chamber.
Cosy was breathlessly eager over some queer bits of ma-
chinery which Amasa could not understand. He staid but
a few miuutes, as he had promised, but he stammered with
excitement when he weut away.
— mere boys' play, of course — andThad told his father. Mr.
Norcross will help me to get a patent! Viola! Atnasa! He
says it may be worth a great (leal of money !"
Lizette and Viola were crying for joy; but Amasa could
think only of the horror of Viola's disgrace, for now, of
course, Cosy Priugle would tell.
'•You won't think anything now of my little triumph,"
said Viola, when they had calmed down a little and sat
down to supper. '"School-girl Friendships' is to he pub-
lished in full in the Bilberry Beacon next Saturday, with
my own name signed it — not Lilla Carry!, as I signed it two
years ago, when I sent it to the Gilead (I leaner. Oh, what
a flutter I was in then! aud I never dared to let a soul
kuow it ! The editor of the Beacon made me write a foot-
note, telling all about it."
"I'm an awful jackass," said Amasa, his voice gruft with
joy anil shume.
" You're the dearest boy in the world," said. Lizette.
" But I don't waut you to associate with Cosy Priugle."
1029
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
SEA RANGERS.
BY KIRK M U N R O E,
AUTHOR OF " ROAD RANGERS," THE "MATE" SERIES,
" SXOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES," ETC.
CHAPTER V.
OVERBOAIiD GO THE HANGERS.
" /~"1 REAT SCOTT! Cal's overboard!" cried Will Rogers,
\JT as lie caught a twinkling' glimpse of a pair of rubber-
boots disappearing over the sloop's bow. With the young
Captain of the Rangers to think was also to act. Tims,
even as he spoke he tore oft' his jacket, sprang to the vessel's
side, and clove into the shining waters. He knew that Cal
could swim a little, under ordinary circumstances, but he
dreaded the dragging weight of those rubber boots, and also
feared that the boy might be struck and injured by the
vessel as she passed over him.
Apparently every other Ranger on board thought the
same thoughts, and was actuated by the belief that it was
Iris duty to rescue Cal Moody ; for, even as Will Rogers
sprang overboard, all of them but one followed him like a
flock of sheep, and in another moment the river behind the
now swiftly moving sloop was dotted with the heads of
swimming boys. The one Ranger who had not leaped into
the water was Abe Cruger, who, realizing the impossibility
of swimming in his " Bill Bullseye " garments, contented
himself with tumbling into the boat that towed astern and
casting her loose. As this boat contained but a single
long oar, being only fitted for sculling, and as Abe had
never acquired that style of navigation, he found himself
about as helpless in his new position as lie would have
been in the water, and could only shout impracticable ad-
vice to the swimmers about him.
All these things happened with such bewildering rapidity
as to completely paralyze poor Captain Grotty, and the
sloop shot ahead several hundred feet before he recovered
his senses sufficiently to again throw her head into the
wind, and thus check her progress. Young Jabe was below
starting a tire in the galley stove, and knew nothing of
what was taking place until summoned on deck by his
father's shouts.
"Trim in the jib! Trim in quick! Now bear a hand
with this mainsail! Haul her flat! There, steady!" or-
dered Captain Grotty, and as, close hauled on the wind, thr
sloop began slowly to work her way back toward the drift-
ing boat, young Jabe for the tirst time realized that, save
for his father and himself, there was not a soul aboard the
•vessel.
" What's happened I" he almost gasped.
"Don't ask me," replied the other, "for I don't know.
All I do know is that them boys is stark raving lunatics
every last one of 'em, and if I get 'em back here again I'll
head 'em for their homes quick as ever the good Lord '11
let rue. I never kuowed what a fool I could be till I under-
took the managing of a passel of crazy boys off on a lark.
Now I don't expect nothing else but that the half of 'em '11
be drowned, and I'll be held responsible. Sarve me right
too !"
By this time all the swimmers had collected about the
boat containing Abe Cruger. and, holding on to its gun-
wales, were pushing it slowly in the direction of the sloop.
Its sole occupant stood on a thwart, gazing anxiously over
the rippling waters.
"Don't you see anything? Not a sign ?" inquired one
and another, anxiously.
"No, fellows; I can't make out so much as a bubble,"
was the hopeless reply.
"Oh, it's awful!" groaned Will Rogers. "Poor little
Cal! And his mother! How can we tell her?"
As the boat drifted near the now anchored sloop Abe
Cruger mechanically caught the line flung to him by young
Jabe, and she was drawn alongside. One by one the swim-
mers were hauled up from the water by Captain Crotty's
strong hands, and when at length they all stood on deck
he inquired in a trembling voice, " How many's missiugf
Where's the little one ?''
"I don't know," answered Will Rogers, with something
very like a sob choking his speech. " He is the only one
ini.ssing; but I'm awfully afraid we'll never see him alive
again."
" Waal," said Captain C'rotty, hoarsely, "I might have
knowed something of the kind would happen, and I'm only
thankful there's as many of you left as there is. Of course
this ends the cruise, and I shall head back for Berks just as
quick as I get a fair wind up the river. Till then we'll lie
here and do what we, can towards recovering the body.
Now. you lads, go below, get out of your wet clothes, give
'em to Jabe to dry, tumble into your bunks and stay there.
'S'f«i/ tlit-n: d'ye hear, till I give you permission to leave 'em.
Yes, you too," he added to Abe Cruger, who was beginning
to explain that he had not been in the water. "I don't
want to resk having one of ye on deck. Your supper '11 be
brought to you when it's ready, so there won't be no oc-
casion to stir out of your bunks before morning."
The skipper so evidently meant what he said that the
boys saw it would be useless to argue with him. More-
over they were too shocked by what had happened, and too
heavy-hearted for the attempt. So they silently and sadly
went below, and Captain Grotty followed them to see that
his orders were obeyed to the letter. Not until every
Ranger had deposited a little heap of wet clothing on the
lloor, and crawled in between the blankets of his bunk, did
the skipper leave them. Then he returned to the deck for
a soothing pipe-smoke and a quiet consideration of the
situation. He had hardly got his old black brier-wood
well alight before it dropped unheeded from his mouth,
while the man stood pale and nervous, as though he had
seen a ghost. Of course he had not ; but he thought he
heard one, which was almost the same thing. From some-
where, though he could not at first locate it, a voice was
calling, and it sounded like that of the boy whom all on
board were mourning as dead.
"Help! help! Will! Hal! help!" This cry had been
repeated over and over again for some minutes ; but, owing
to the confusion on board, and the noise made by the boys,
it had not been heard until now.
The skipper glanced along the deck, cast an eye aloft,
and then over both sides of the vessel into the darkening
waters. No one was to be seen, and the strong man began
to tremble with superstitious fear. He made his way for-
ward and peered over the bows, but saw nothing nor heard
anything, save the ripple of the current against the anchor
chain. Walking aft he again heard the voice, and, as he
leaned over the stern, it seemed to come from directly be-
neath him. It sounded so close that he instinctively start-
ed back.
The small boat had all this time been kept alongside
where young Jabe had fastened it. Now hastening to it,
tilled with hope and dread, and at the same time almost be-
side himself with excitement, the skipper dropped astern,
where he could look under the overhanging counter. There,
from out the dark shadow where swung the ponderous rud-
der, a white face peered at him, and a weak voice uttered
an exclamation of thankfulness.
Two minutes later Captain C'rotty descended the com-
panion-ladder and entered the sloop's hold. In his arms he
bore the dripping, shivering, bareheaded, and barefooted
form of little Cal Moody, the well-loved comrade whose
tragic fate the Raugers were discussing in subdued tones.
The lad's face and hands were covered with scratches
from which blood was oozing ; but he could still smile, and
still had voice enough to say, "I'm awfully sorry, Will, but
the mermaid startled me so that —
Just here the Rangers, who had been paralyzed into mo-
mentary silence, regained their senses, and realizing that
he whom they had mourned as dead was restored to them
alive and well, broke into such a storm of cheers, shouts,
laughter, and questions, that young Jabe, with terrified
face, came rushing in from the galley filled with the be-
lief that they had gone sure enough crazy.
Regardless of appearances they leaped from their bunks
and crowded forward, eager to shake Cal by the hand, or
1030
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
even to feel of him, ami so assure themselves that lie was
real.
"Where did you find him ?"
'• \Vliere lias he been all this time I"
'•How did he get so scratched up?"
" Oh, Cal, it's so good to see you !"
" No\v \ve won't have to go home after all, will we ?"
These were some of the questions and exclamations
poured forth by the excited boys. But befoiv Cal could re-
ply to one of them, Captain Crotty, striving to conceal his
joy beneath a stern exterior, roared out, "Let him alone,
\e lubbers, and get back to your bunks afore I murder half
a dozen of ye!" Then as the lm\s meekly obeyed this sav-
age order, he began with clumsy but gentle fingers to strip
little Cal of his wet clothing. Xot until the lad was rubbed
into a glow, and snugly tucked away between warm blank-
ets, was he allowed to explain what had happened to him.
Then he said :
" I was looking for mermaids, because the Captain told
us to, you know, and, besides, I wanted awfully to see a real
truly one. When it came, though, it jumped out of the
water so kinder sudden that I tumbled right overboard al-
most into its arms, aud didn't get a good look at it, either.
I must have gone down a thousand feet before I got off my
rubber boots ami began to come up. First I struck some-
thing hard aud scratchy —
" Barnacles on the vessel's bottom," explained the
skipper.
" Yes, aud we never cleaned them off, as yon told us to,"
said Cracker Bob Jones, remorsefully.
"Then," continued Cal, "I caught hold of something,
and my head came out of water, and as soon as I could I
began to holler. I guess I hollered more'u an hour before
Captain Grotty came, and I was afraid nobody ever would
come ; but now it's all right, only I dou't want to have
anything more to do with mermaids — never!"
"I found the poor little chap sitting straddle of the
rudder," commented the skipper, "aud pretty uigh ready
to drop off from exhaustion ; but, thank God, 1 was in
time."
"Oh!" cried Will Rogers. "Isn't it splendid to have
him safe back again, and aren't we just the happiest fel-
lows in t-lie world at this minute.' But I say, Captain,
we won't have to go back to Berks, after all — that is, not
until our cruise is finished — will we?"
" Humph !'' answered the skipper, as he turned to go on
deck; "1 don't know about that."
C H A P T E U VI.
MUTINY AND SHIPWRECK.
THE Rangers ate supper in their bunks, which they
thought great fun, aud then iu their overflowing joy they
skylarked and threw pillows at one another, until an un-
lucky shot brought the lantern down with a crash. As
this disaster not only came near to setting the sloop on
fire, but left them iu total darkness, it also had the effect
of so quieting them that several actually dropped asleep,
while the others discussed their prospects iu low tones,
and wondered if they really would have to go back with-
out finishing the cruise as planned.
By this time young Jabe, with a sailor's happy facility
for taking a nap at any time, was sound asleep on deck
forward, while the skipper sat aft iu a big chair, leaning
against the tiller, thoughtfully puffing at his pipe, aud so
affected by the soothing influences of the night that he
was wondering if, after all, he should have the heart to dis-
appoint the boys of their cruise.
Although a capital sailor aud, under most conditions, a
very sensible mau, the skipper of the Millgirl was inclined
to be superstitious. So when, a little later, by the swing-
ing gleam of the sloop's riding light, he saw a dim white
figure gliding noiselessly along the deck towards him, he
gazed at it in speechless apprehension. To his dismay it
was followed by another, and still others, until the deck
seemed crowded with the phantom forms. All the stories
of ghostly crews that he had ever heard flashed into the
skipper's mind, and, as the formless figures silently ap-
proached him, his face was bathed iu a cold perspiration.
He sat motionless until they were about to surround him,
when, with a mighty effort and a hoarse shout, he sprang
to his feet.
At this the startled ghosts, who were only so many bovs
euveloped in white blankets, fell backward so precipitatcly
that they tumbled over each cither, and rolled on deck w iili
stifled exclamations that at once proclaimed their humanity
aud identity.
" Oh, you villains!" roared the relieved skipper. "You
young pirates! You, yon — what do you mean by playing
tricks like this on your grandfather, eh ? Tell me that
afore I murder ye."
" Please, sir, we didn't mean to play any trick," answered
one of the blanketed figures meekly. "Only we thought,
perhaps, you were asleep, and wouldn't like to be disturbed.
You see, we were afraid yon might sail back up the river
to-night, and thought we'd better explain what we'd de-
cided to do before it was too late ; for, you see, we've talked
it all over, and made up our minds not to go back until
our cruise is finished."
"Oh, ye have, have you?" remarked the skipper, in an
interested tone, at the same time throwing a protecting
arm about Cal Moody, and drawing the little chap close to
him for fear lest he should get cold.
"Yes, sir," answered the voice, which was now recog-
nizable as that of Will Rogers ; " but we don't waut you to-
be blamed for anything that may happen, or to have any
responsibility unless you want to."
" I dou't exactly see how that is to be avoided so long as
I'm in charge of the vessel," interposed the skipper.
"Oh, we've settled all that," replied Will, cheerfully.
" We'll simply seize the sloop and sail her ourselves, and
so take all the risk as well as all the responsibility."
"You'll simply seize the vessel," repeated the skipper,
slowly, and in a bewildered tone, as though failing to com-
prehend what he had just heard. " In that case, what's to
become of me' .'"
" Why, we'll put you in irons, or lock yon into your state-
room, or let you walk a plank, that is, if you know how-
walking a plank is done, or set yon ashore on a desolate
island, or perhaps let you go adrift in the small boat with-
out oars or sail. Of course we'd give you pleuty of pro-
visions and water, aud you'd probably be picked up, 'cause
you know they always are. Anyhow, we'd let you tak&
yonr choice of all those ways."
" Waal, I'll be Mowed!" exclaimed the skipper. "If
these young pirates hain't planned out a regular high-sea
mutiny, with all the fixin's and trimmings, theu I'm a
farmer."
"Of course," Will hastened to add, "we would rather
have you choose to be put in irons, aud so stay on board,
because when wo get to sea if we should strike a typhoon
or anything we might waut you to help navigate the ship."
" That's so," reflected the skipper, gravely. " And ou the-
whole, I think I'd better stay aboard anyway. But now
I'll tell you what I'll do. If yon mutineers will turn in,
and promise not to leave your bunks again before suurise,
I'll promise not to make any move toward going back be-
fore that time, aud not even theu till we've talked the
whole matter over again by daylight."
This proposition seemed to the Rangers so satisfactory,
and they were becoming so shivery iu the chill uight air,
as well as sleepy, that it was promptly accepted; aud,
without further parley, the young mutineers left the deck
aud hastened below. Little' Cal Moody, cuddling close to
the big skipper, was already nodding, so the latter lifted
him iu his strong arms, and carrying him iuto the hold
again, tucked him snugly into his bunk. Then, after bid-
ding the mutineers a polite good-night, and promising to-
carefully consider their proposition, tlie skipper returned
to the deck. Here for an hour or more he nearly choked
with suppressed laughter, which refused to be stifled, and
ever broke out afresh as he contemplated the novel aspects
of the proposed mutiny.
"Bless their honest hearts," he finally said, half aloud,
"I couldn't no more disappoint them boys by carrying of
'cm back than a fish could swim on a railroad track. So I
1031
THE GHOSTS OP THE "M1LLGIHL.
suppose I might, as well uiiike a virtue of necessity, and
surrender at mice."
Thus resolved, Captain Grotty turned in for a few hours'
sleep; but lie was on deck again by daylight, \vben, with
young Jabe's assistance, he quietly got np the anchor, set
the jib, and was merrily dropping down stream long before
a single Ranger even thought of opening his eyes.
When the sleepers were at length awakened by young
.lalie's lusty shout of "Breakfast!" they tumbled out of
their luniks in a hurry, but. sought iu vain for their cloth-
ing. It. was not in cabin, bold, or galley ; but the mystery
of its disappearance was speedily explained by Captain
('roll v. who, thrusting his head down the hatch, informed
them that the cook, learning of their mutiny, had inaug-
urated one of his own. "He says," continued the skipper,
"that he's going to keep up bis mutiny, which is for the
purpose of hiding your clothes, just as long as yon keep up
you rn, but that as soon as you'll give in he'll give in. Now
I'm going to set down to breakfast, and only wish you
were properly dressed to set down with me. for it's an un-
common good one. I can tell you — corn muth'ns and flapjacks
with maple syrup an —
Here the speaker was interrupted by a howl from the
Kangers, who had just realized how very hungry they
were, and how impossible it would be to carry on a mutiny
unless properly clad for such an undertaking. Most of
them were willing to give iu at once, but several held out,
until, overcome by a fragrant whift'of coft'ee that came float-
ing iu from the cabin, human nature could resist, no longer :
so an unconditional surrender was declared, and their cloth-
ing, all nicely dried, was restored to them by the grinning
Jabe. Five minutes later the recent mutineers were gath-
ered about the smoking breakfast table. As they satisfied
their ravenous appetites they also found occasion to rejoice
that their mutiny had effected its purpose, for they learned
that the skipper had surrendered even before they did, and
that the sloop was already headed toward their desired
destination.
All that day they sailed down the beautiful river, and at
night the sloop was anchored at its mouth, where they
were cooled by a sea-breeze and rocked by a gentle swell
rolling iu from the Sound. The next day they crossed the
Sound, and finally drew near the lonely island on which
they anticipated such glorious times.
During these two days of sailing the skipper kept the
boys from mischief by interesting them iu various simple
problems of seamanship. He gave them lessons in boxing
the compass, splicing, tying knots, naming the various
sails, spars, and ropes, and in steering, that caused them to
realize with amazement the extent of their former igno-
rance concerning such matters. Will Rogers was espe-
cially interested in all this, anil became so expert in steer-
ing that the skipper allowed him to hold the tiller for an
hour at a time.
•• I tell you what, fellows," he said to a group of his com-
rades, after being relieved from his trick at the helm,
•• we've learned such a lot on this trip that I feel ashamed
to think how little we really knew when we started.1'
" Yes," replied Cracker Bob Jones, "but we know more
now than we even thought we did when we left Berks."
Karly in the afternoon the sloop reached the island, on
which the excited boys had already distinguished the tops
of tents and a number of gayly fluttering flags. There \\ as
i 4 1 harbor around a point, but the channel to it was
very narrow, and so beset with reefs that the skipper was
proceeding with unusual caution. Suddenly, as they were
close to the. point, a fleet of canoes, under full sail and evi-
ilrnlly racing, swept out from behind it. So excited were
their occupants that they took no notice of the on-coming
sloop, and a collision was imminent. To avert it the skip-
per jammed his helm hard down. The sloop luffed sharply
into the wind, and in another moment brought up with a
crash that threw every Ranger to the deck. She heeled so
far over that they thought she was surely going to cap-
size, then slowly slid oft' into deep water and righted. As
she did so young Jabe rushed up from below and reported
that a torrent of water was pouring into the hold.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
1032
OAKLEIGH.
BY E L L E X D 0 U G LAS D E L A N D.
CHAPTER XVII.
WITH dripping clothes and a sad heart Cynthia went
up to the house after Neal had left her. She was
liitterly disappointed and extremely uncomfortable. Her
hail', never very securely fastened, hail fallen down and lay
in a wet mass about her face and neck; her hat felt heavy
as lead, and water oozed from her shoes as she walked.
"Nothing will ever be right again, "she thought, as she
gave a depressed glance at all the familiar objects on the
place. "I feel as if it were going to rain forever, and the
sun would never shine again. It would have been so dif-
ferent if Neal had only come home!"
Mrs. Franklin was thankful to see her appear, and re-
frained from reproaching her until she had been thoroughly
dried and wanned. Then all she said was :
"I thought you would never come, Cynthia! Was it
worth while to go on the river such a morning as this ?"
" No, mamma ; but you will forgive me when you hear
why I went," said Cynthia, setting down the cup of ginger
tea which Mary Ann had made so hot and so strong that
she could scarcely swallow it. "But tell me how Edith is,
tirst."
••She is about the same. She seems anxious about
something. She is restless and uneasy, but it is difficult
for her to speak. Perhaps she wants you. I think that is
it, for you know I do not satisfy her," added Mrs. Franklin,
with a sigh.
Cynthia knelt beside her, and put her arms around her.
"Dear mamma!" she said, lovingly
Mrs. Franklin rested her head on her step-daughter's
shoulder. "Cynthia darling, you are a great comfort to
me ! Are yon sure you feel perfectly warm f You must not
take cold."
" I'm as warm as toast. It won't hurt me a bit ; you
know I never take cold. But let me tell you something —
the reason I went. You could never guess! I went to see
some one."
Mrs. Franklin raised her head and looked at Cynthia.
"You can't mean —
"Yes, I do. Neal!"
"Child, where is he ? Is ho here ? Has he come back 1"
"No, mamma," said Cynthia, shaking her head sadly,
"he wouldn't come. I begged and implored him to, but he
wouldn't."
"Oh, Cynthia, why didn't you tell me? I could have
made him come; I would have gone down on niy knees to
him ! Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because he said I mustn't. He sent me a note yester-
day. I knew he would never forgive me if I told."
"Yesterday! You knew he was coming yesterday?
Cynthia, you ought to have told!"
" But, mamma, he told me not to, and I didn't, have
time to think it over, for we were so frightened with
Edith's accident. It all came at once. But you could not
have made him come."
" Where is he now ?"
"He has gone to Pelham to take the train, and he is
going to write to me, mamma. He says he — he is going
to work."
" My poor boy !" said Mrs. Franklin, going to the window.
"Tramping about the country such a day as this without
a home ! I wonder if he has any money, Cynthia ?"
"I don't know, mamma."
Neither of them remembered that Neal had wilfully de-
serted his home, and that it was entirely his own fault if
he had no money in his pockets.
'I CAN'T HEAR YOU," SHE SAID. "DON'T TRY TO SPEAK
1033
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"Cynthia," said Mrs. Franklin, turning abruptly and
facing her daughter, "I want yen to umlcrstaiul tliat I
(Inn'i think Neal took that money. 1 cannot believe it. I
am sure lie got it iu some other way. Why do yon look so
odd, Cynthia '.'"
There- was no answer.
"I believe you know something abont it. Tell me!"
Still no answer.
"Could you have helped him in any way? Where
would you get it ? Why, of course! How stupid we have
all been! Yon had Aunt Betsey's present; you never
spent it. yon would not buy the watch. Cynthia, you can-
not deny it ; I have guessed it!'1
The next moment Mrs. Franklin was enveloped in a vig-
orous hug.
"You dear darling, I'm so thankful you have! Ho
wouldn't let me tell, but I said this morning I wouldn't
deny it if yon happened to guess."
"Oh, Cynthia, though I said I didn't believe the other,
Ihis has taken a thousand-pound weight from my heart!"
They were interrupted by the entrance of the nurse, who
came, to say that her patient was growing more uneasy,
and she thought some one had better come to her. At the
same moment Mr. Franklin arrived, so Cynthia went alone
to her sister.
She found her perfectly conscious, with large, wide-open
eyes, watching for her. Edith's head was bound up, and
the pretty hands, of which she had always been somewhat
vain, moved restlessly. Cynthia took one of them in her
warm, firm grasp, and leaned over the bed.
"Dearest, you wanted me," she said, in a low voice; "I
am going to stay with you now."
But Edith was not satisfied. She tried to say some-
thing, but in so faint a voice that Cynthia could not hear.
"I can't hear you," she said, iu distress. "Don't try to
speak ; it will tire you."
But still Eilith persisted. Cynthia put her ear close to
her sister.
"Did you say 'mamma'?" she asked.
The great brown eyes said "Yes."
" Do you want her ?"
No, that was not it. Cynthia thought a moment.
" Oh. I know!" she exclaimed. "You are sorry about
the drive, Edith ; is that it ? You want mamma to forgive-
yon ?"
" Yes."
Cynthia Hew down stairs.
"Mamma, mamma!" she cried, scarcely heeding her fa-
ther, whom she had not seen before, "come quickly! I
have found out what Edith wants. She wants you to for-
give her for going to drive, and you will, won't you f
And in a few minutes, satisfied, Edith fell asleep with
her hand in tliat of her mother's.
Many people came to inquire for Edith, for the news of
her accident spread like wildfire. Cynthia was obliged to
see them all, as Edith would scarcely let her mother go
out of her sight. Now that her pride had given way, she
showed how completely her step -mother had won her
heart, entirely against her own will.
Among others came Gertrude Morgan.
"And how is your dear friend Tony Brouson ?" asked
Cynthia. "He nearly killed Edith; what did he do to
himself?"
"Oh, he didn't get very much hurt — at least he didn't
show it much. He went home right away. He thought
he had better."
••Well, I should think he might have had the grace to
come and inquire for Edith, after upsetting her in that
style, and almost breaking her neck."
"He seemed to think he ought to get home. He
thought he might be a good deal hurt, only it didn't come
out just at first. He said there were inward hrui.-es."
"Inward bruises!" repeated Cynthia, scornfully. "I
guess the inward bruise was that he was ashamed of him-
self for letting the horse run away. Now don't you really
think so, Gertrude? Don't you think yourself that it
was outrageous of him not to find out more about Edith
before he went ?"
Gertrude was forced to acknowledge that she did Iliink
so; and, furthermore, she confessed that her brother Den-
nis was so enraged at Bronson's conduct that he, declared
he should never be asked there again.
" I'm glad of it !" declared Cynthia, emphatically. " It's
about time yon all found out what a cad that Bronson
is. If you knew as much as I know about him you would
have come to that conclusion long ago."
"Oh, of course you are prejudiced by Neal Gordon! I
wouldn't take his word for anything. By-the-way, have
you seen him lately ?"
" Yes, very lately. He came out to Brenton the other
day."
" Did he, really ?" cried Gertrude, curiously. " I thought
he was never coming back. The last story was that your
father had turned him out-of-doors."
"How perfectly absurd! I should think I/OH knew
enough abont us to contradict that, Gertrude ! Will you
please tell every one there is no truth in it. at all ?"
" But where is he now ? Is he here ? Why has nobody
seen him ? Wasn't any of il true ?"
" Dear me, Gertrude, you are nothing but a big interro-
gation point !" laughed Cynthia, who bad uo intention of
replying to any of these questions; and Gertrude, battled
and somewhat ashamed of herself, soon took her departure
without having learned anything beyond the fact thatNeal
had lately been in town and, as she supposed, at his sis-
ter's.
Aunt Betsey came from Wayborough as soon as she
heard of what happened. It was her first, visit there
since the death of Silas Green, and naturally she was lunch
affected.
" Cynthy, my dear," she said, after talking about him
for some time to her nieces, " let me give you a word of
warning: Never put off till to-morrow what can be done
to-day! It. is a good proverb, and worth remembrance.
If I hadn't put oft' and put off, and been so unwilling to
give up uiy view, I might have made Silas's last years hap-
pier. Perhaps he'd have been here yet if I'd been with
him to take care of him. Oh, one has to give up — one has
to give up in tliis world !"
They were in Edith's room, and Edith, listening, felt that
Aunt Betsey was right. She, too, had learned — many,
many years earlier in life than did her aunt — that one
must learn to give up.
Miss Betsey did not look the same. The gay dress that
she once wore was discarded, and she was soberly clad iu
black. She really was not unlike other people now. but
her speech was as quaint as ever.
She brought Willy's present with her, and was shocked
to find that Janet's had never beeu received.
"Well, now, I want to know !" she exclaimed, rocking
violently. •' I did it up with my own hands. I remember
it exactly, for it was a few days after the funeral, and I
was that flustered I could scarcely tie the cord or hold the
pen. It was a large rag doll I had made for the child, just
about life size, and a face as natural as a baby's. And I
made a nice little satchel to hang at the side, and in the
sat.-hel was the money. Too bad she didn't get it! I re-
member I gave it to old Mr. Peters to mail. He was going
down Tottenham way, and he said he'd take it to the
post-office there. He'd stopped to see if there was any-
thing he could do for me just as I was tying it up, so I let
him take it along. He's half blind, and just as likely as
not he went to the meeting-house instead of the post-
office. He wouldn't know them apart. You may depend
upon it, it warn't Government's fault you didn't get it. Of
that I'm very sure."
And, true to her principles, the patriotic little lady
rocked again. No one told her of the suspicion which
had rested upon Neal. It would have distressed her too
deeply, and nothing would be gained by it.
"And now, Jack, I must see those little orphans," she
said to her great-nephew, when he came home that after-
noon. "Poor little things, are they at all happy?"
Jack led her in triumph to the poultry-yard.
••Well, I want to know!" she exclaimed, throwing up
her mitted hands when she saw six or seven hundred very
1034
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
contented-looking fowls of all sizes, kinds, ami ages, each
brood in its allotted habitation, pecking, running, crowing,
and clucking, and enjoying life generally.
" You don't mean to say, Jackie, that not one of these
hens over had any mother but that heartless hox in the
cellar:' Well, I want to know! They do look real con-
tented. Do tell!"
Her nephew proudly assured her that they appeared to
In- exceedingly happy, and that he also was happy; for
they paid well, and he would soon he able to return the
money that he had borrowed of her.
And indeed in a few weeks Jack travelled out to Way-
horongh, and with his own hands gave back to his annt
the seventy-five dollars which she so kindly had ad-
vanced to him, and which he had earned with his own
hard work.
Tlif. best part (if it all was when his father spoke to him
with unqualiliecl praise.
"lam really proud of my son, Jack," he said. "You
have doue well. I have watched you carefully, aud I saw
the plucky way in which you met your discouragements.
It makes me feel that I have a son worth having. Keep
al it, my hoy. If you put the same pluck and persever-
ance into everything you undertake you will make a name
some day."
And when Jack remembered how his father had frowned
down the idea of the incubator he felt more pleased than
ever.
One day a letter came to Cynthia from Neal. It was the
first they had received. Mr. Carpenter had written to Mrs.
Franklin, telling her that Neal was with him, and that he
had taken him into his office ; and Hester wrote to her bro-
ther at once, hut he answered neither that letter nor the
many that followed. He was still obdurate. It was an ex-
ciiing moment, therefore, when Cynthia recognized the
bold, boyish handwriting on the envelope.
" DEAR CYNTH [he wrote], — I promised to write to yon,
so hero goes. I am living with Cousin William Carpenter,
aud probably shall for the rest of my days. He is in the
lumber business, and lumber is awfully poky. However,
I'm earning my living. Did you ever see a Quaker? They
are a queer lot. It would not do for you to he one. I'm
they never get excited. If the house got on fire Cousin
Wiiliam and Cousin Rachel would walk calmly about and
' thee ' and ' thou " each other as quietly as ever. They don't
say ' thou,' though. Cousin William says it has become ob-
solete.
"I do nothing but measure boards and write down fig-
ures. Boards are tiresome things. I go to Quaker meet-
ing sometimes, though I should say Friends' meeting. They
call themselves Friends. All the men sit on one side and
all the women on the other, aud the men keep their hats on
all through. Sometimes there isn't any sermon and some-
times there arc five or six, just as it happens. The women
preach too, if they feel like it. One day it was terribly
still, aud I was just beginning to think I should blow up
and bust if somebody didn't say something — had serious
thoughts of giving a sermon myself— when I heard a famil-
iar voice, aud I looked over, and there was Cousin Rachel
preaching away for dear life. Aud a mighty good sermon
it was, too — better than any of the men's.
"Cousin William takes me to see the sights on Saturday
(or, rather, Seventh day, as he would say) afternoon, ami I
have been about myself a good deal. I would like to get
to know the people, but have no chance. I wish you would
write to a fellow, Cynth. I would like to see you pretty
awfully much. How you did give it to me that day on the
river! You were a brick, though, to come. I have not for-
gotten what you said. I am going to show you I am no
coward, though you said I was. I'll stick at the lumber
trade until I die in the harness, and here's my hand and
seal ! Yours,
"NEAL GOI'.DON.
It was better than nothing, though Mrs. Franklin wished
that the letter had been to her. Still, it was far, far better
than if it had not been written at all. And then he had
sent his love to her. It was in a postscript, and was prob-
ably an after-thought, but sin- was ^hi.l he did it. He
seemed well and moderately happy, aud for that his sister
was very grateful. Fortunately Hester could not read be-
tween the lines, and learn that the boy was eating his
heart out with homesickness aud a longing to see his only
sister.
Neal found this quiet life, so far from his family aud
friends, very different from that to which he had been ac-
customed, and sometimes it seemed very dreary and hard
to bear. Then, again, he was quite unused to steady occu-
pation, and his cousin demanded iiulhigginu; attention to
business. It was good for the hoy, just what he needed;
but that made it none the less irksome.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
"P.S.— Give my love to Hessie. I hope Edith is coming
round all right."
WATER LIFE AROUND NEW YORK.
BY JULIAN RALPH.
WHAT an odd thing a boatman's dream of the water
life around New York would be if all the vessels and
craft of every kind should take to themselves grotesque
shapes and characters, as familiar objects are apt to do in
human dreams! We have had some great aud notable
water parades in our harbor— the last and greatest being
that queer hooting and tooting procession of many kinds
of craft that swept around the war-ships of ten or a dozen
great nations at our Columbus celebration in the early
summer of 1893. But the boatman's dream of which I .was
thinking would be far stranger than that, because the Co-
lumbian naval review included only the handy, easily
manageable steam-craft of New York, like the steamships
ajid steamboats and tugs and tow-boats. It left out all the
really queer floating things that have such shapes as to al-
most turn a dream into a nightmare.
The dreaming boatman of whom I am thinking would
see great water-giraffes, which would really be our floating
grain-elevators; and a myriad sea-spiders transformed from
our darting tug-boats, and great groaning mother-gulls
dragging large coveys of helpless babies in their wake.
Those would be the tow-boats with their long trains of
canal-boats. Turtles he would see by the score — huge
flat, almost round turtles — some red, some white, some
brown. Those would be the ferry-boats, which really do
look just like great sea-turtles when yon are looking down
upon their flat hacks from a high place like the Brooklyn
Bridge. Like fearful black ocean .sharks would be the
Atlantic steamers — long and thin — out of whose way every
other moving thing flies when they approach. Our huge
and towering palace boats of the Sound would turn into
greal white elephants, trumpeting as if they had all caught
cold in their long snouts. Aud we shall see that many
another animal and creature would easily appear to the
troubled dreamer without greatly altering the shapes of
the queer craft that have grown out of nearly three hun-
dred years of needs and developments in the water-life
around New York.
I suppose that the reader has heard that almost every
Chinaman in this country comes from the water popula-
tion near Canton. That must be a wonderful phase of life,
where so many hundreds of thousands of persons are ac-
tually born upon the water, to live out their lives upon
the water, and to die upon the water. They form a river
population housed in boats that make up a city far more
peculiar than Venice — a floating city of stores aud work-
shops, boarding-houses, amusement places, .saloons, and all
the rest. We have nothing of the sort around New York.
The nearest approach to that condition is to be seen in the
large docks on the East River near the Battery, and one at
Communipaw on the New Jersey shore, where the canal-
boats collect with the boatmen and their wives and chil-
dren aboard them. Then' one sees by the kitchen smol
slacks above the cabin loots, by the lines of drying linen
1035
HARPER'S ROUND TABLK
on the decks, by the sight of women sewiug and knitting'
under cooliug awnings, and by the views of children and
eats and dogs playing upon the boats — by all these things
one sees how truly the canal-boats are floating homes as
well as merchant vessels. At night the sounds of sing-
ing and fiddliug-T-sometimes the nasal notes of house or-
gans— tell more of this strange -water life. Some of the
cabins of these canal-boats are quite attractive. They
show dainty white lace curtains in the tiny scjnare win-
dows, carpets on the floors, boxes of flowers upon the cabin
roofs, and cleanly, neatly clad mothers and little children.
This is not the rule, however, and we see enough, whenever
we visit the canallers, to show that there is at least some
reason for their being generally regarded as a rude and
rough class.
Yet. apart from these canallers. \\ e have enough persons
\vho live on the water to form what would be called a city
out West. They are mainly men who sleep in bunks and
eat in the cabins of tug - boats, steam passenger boats.
4|;:lVf4 X; n*
' "'<'fl «.,!• u \\a§J
rtE ^saiVt^i-is&B^Ki:*
ICE-IS \RGES IN TOW.
freighters, and the. like. A few women are among them —
stewardesses of passenger boats and the wives of the cap-
tains of the other sorts of vessels. Of course I do not in-
clude here tin1 men on the ships that sail the ocean. Their
homes are really at sea. I only refer to the scores of
thousands of persons wbo live upon boats that may be
called the horses of the harbor, because they tie up regu-
larly every night at certain piers, and every morning are
sent to work, here and there, at this place or that, to carry
goods or passengers, or to haul other boats. It is doubt-
ful whether many children are born in these shifting
homes, but there is no doubt that very many girls and boys
sleep npon them, and are sent from them to the city's
schools, and, later, to the factories and shops to earn their
living.
Of all the uncommon forms that boats take, the newest,
instead of being strange and complicated like most nine-
teenth-century inventions, are almost as simple as any-
thing that floats. Only rafts of logs are more simple than
what we call our " car-floats." They are the newest type
of boats we know, and have come into being because New
York city is on an island, with only a few railroads crossing
to it from the mainland. The other great and little rail-
ways, which bring and take goods and people to and from
New Y'ork, all stop on the opposite shores of our harbor, in
New Jersey, Staten Island, and Long Island. Since the cars
of one railroad often have to go past the city upon the other
roads, these " floats " are used to transport them around
our island, so that goods from Boston or Sag Harbor, for
instance, can be sent around New Y'ork to the tracks of the
roads that will carry them to San Francisco without un-
loading or reloading. The floats that carry these cars are
merely boxes, the shape of great dominoes, with railroad
tracks laid upon them. Some carry six freight-cars, some
carry eight, and some carry ten cars. Tiny little propellers
that we call •' tug-boats" are warped or hitched alongside
of these clumsy floating boxes, where they look as a little
kitten would appear beside a big St. Bernard dog, or as a
locomotive would look beside a house. But our queer,
snorting, fussy little tug- boats march away with every
floating thing to which they are hitched — even dragging
huge Atlantic steamships at their sides — because, they reach
deep down into the water, where their big screws, driven by
very powerful engines, obtain a mighty hold. Because our
tug- boats are so small, and yet so strong, they are able to
move swiftly when they have no burdens to carry. In the
boatman's dream that I spoke of they would seem like those
water-spiders that many of us have seen darting hither
and thither on the top of placid pools. But there is one
reason why they are not at all alike — that is, that the
water-spiders are as silent as death, while the tug-boats are
the most noisy, saucy, boisterous of make-believe animals —
always gasping, and snorting, and whistling, and thrashing
about as very little people are often apt to do.
The "floats" that carry passengers around New Y'ork so
that they can go to Boston from Philadelphia or Chicago
without changing cars (and even without getting out of
bed on the sleeping
cars), are not floats at
all. They are very
powerful and large
steamboats, with decks
covered with iron
plates, with car tracks
on those decks, and
with arrangements for
locking the car wheels
fast to the tracks, so
that no matter bow
boisterous the water
may be on stormy days,
the cars cannot break
loose and roll over-
board. We have sev-
eral queer sorts of
boats and other float-
ing objects that look
like floating houses.
Among them are what we call our floating baths, and onr
floating docks, and onr cattle and ice barges. But there is
one kind of floating building that looks like a tower or a
steeple riding the waters and steering itself around. That
strange thing — and we employ many such — is a floating
grain-elevator. It is a tall four-sided tower built npon a
si|iiat snub-nosed boat. It has a great proboscis, that it
sticks down into canal-boats full of grain, which it sucks
or dips out so that it can load the grain into the holds of
ships that are to carry it to Europe. Our floating baths
are square one-story houses, hollow in the middle, where the
bathers swim, with lattice-work or perforated boards under
them to let in the water without letting out the bathers.
They are decorated with little towers and flag-stall's, and
look very strange indeed when they are being towed to the
city in the early summer to be moored beside a wharf, or
when, after the bathing season is over, they are dragged
away to be laid up for the winter. Onr floating docks,
upon which all hut the very large ships and steamboats are
lifted out of the water to have their hulls painted, cleaned,
or repaired, are made of many boxes joined together. These
boxes sink when full of water, and thus it is possible to
steer a vessel right over them. Then the water is pumped
out of the boxes, and the dock (in reality a cradle rather
than a dock) rises, and lifts the vessel up high and dry so
that workmen can walk all around and under her to scrape
off the barnacles that have grown fast to her, or to paint
her bottom, or to sheathe it with copper.
The barges for carrying cattle and those for carrying ice
are just like the toys that are made for children anil called
"Noah's Arks." They are houses built npon strong boat
hulls. The ice-barges are always white, and canvas wind-
mill wheels are forever whirling above them, just as if they
were some new kind of boats made to go by air propellers
instead of wheels or screws in the water. The truth is. of
course, that these canvas wheels work the pumps that
]Hiinii out the water made by the constant melting of the
ice. But of all the kinds of barges that work in the New
1036
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
York waters the hay-barges are
surely the most interesting'.
They are very large, and the
houses built upon their hulls
are open at the' hides, with only
a railing where the walls
should be. These are two-sto-
ried houses, and the lloors that
support hay in the winter are
dancing platforms in the sum-
mer. These hay-barges are our
picnic boats also. All winter
long, or as long as the waters
arc unfrozen, they bring down
hay from the Hudson River
landings, lint in I lie summer
I hey go out of that business, and
are hired out to Sunday-schools,
political clubs, secret societies,
church societies, and the like, to
currv picnickers to what are call-
ed the excursion parks that are
found along the Hudson River
and the Sound at several hours'
distance from the metropolis.
Tug - boats drag these barges
to the excursion parks, and
the holiday crowds upon the two open decks of the barges
dance all the time to the music of the band that they hire
for the occasion. The stop at the excursion park is a short
one — just long enough for luncheon and a little strolling
under the trees, or bathing on the beach. Then the home-
ward journey is begun, and the dancing ou the barge is re-
commenced and kept up until the city is reached. just before
bedtime. Our great excursion hteambnats. that run to
Coney Island and Rockaway, are built on the same plan —
\\ ide open— and carry such great crowds of pleasure-seekers
that they are black with passengers. These are sometimes
hired by richer and more numerous bodies than those that
hire the hay-barges, but I can assure my readers that the
real jubilant fun is ou the common barges, where the people
are apt, to be simple and democratic, and ready to surrender
themselves to those pleasures of which they enjoy too little.
Our pilot-boats which go out to sea with many brave
FLOATING GRAIN ELEVATOR.
THE C'ANALLERS ON THE EAST RIVEK.
men, and leave them one by one on the steamships that
they meet— in order that those great vessels may lie- safely
sleeved into port — are. very romantic boats, but thev li>,,]<
like mere sail-boats or yachts. Some splendid yachts lie-
come pilot-boats when they grow too old-fashioned to keep
pace with the faster and faster boats that we are forever
building. Other such yachts become o\ slei -boats, and lie
beside FultouFish Market in company with the tank-steam-
ers that bring tish into New York. These tank-steamers
go to Nantucket. or wherever the fishing -smacks are at
work, and lie there while sail-boat after sail-boat fill up
with tish and bring their loads to be kept in tin- refrigerateil-
tauks of the steamer, until she, also, is tilled and ready to
come to the eit v .
Of the '• whalebacks," or cigar-shaped iron ships that
were first made to traverse the great lakes, I will say very
little, because they belong to no place in particular, and
excite as much curiosity here as anywhere. Our flouting
pile-drivers, which look like ladders set upon boxes, are
very curious-looking vessels, but are familiar at all ports.
Perhaps our immigrant barges, which carry the immigrants
from Ellis Island (where they are landed) to the wharves
of the railways by which they are to seek homes in the
West, are peculiar to \ew York, but they are mere hay-
barges like the excursion boats I have already described.
The busy craft that carry fresh drinking-water to the sail-
ing-ships are usually very ordinary tug- boats, and are
only peculiar because each one carries a great sii^n bearing
the word "WATER" painted upon it. To see such a ves-
sel all by itself upon a great expanse of salt water suggests
Coleridge's line in Tin Ain-ii-nl Mui-iner.
"Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop tu drink."
If it were not for those water-hearers — serving the ^;inn
purpose, as the camels laden with water-bags upon the
desert of Sahara — there truly would not be a drop to drink.
I fancy that what we call our "lighters" are the only
descendants that recall the old days of the' linteh on Man-
hattan Island. They are sail-boats that aie used to carry
goods from or to vessels that do not come to the whanes.
but lie out in the open water. They arc very old-fashioned
and' foreign-lookin'g. built almost solidly of heavy \\ I.
and of a shape very like a turtle and quite as clumsy.
Each one carries a short thick mast thai looks as if it had
been broken off, and a little narrow sail, absurdly dispro-
portioned to the vessel. Everything these lighters carry
is put upon their decks, and they are so slow and so hard
to steer and so strong that all other craft give them a wide
berth. It. is only a fancy of mine, yet I never see one'
without, thinking that this style of boat surely descended
to us from the Dutch.
10157
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
A FREE ENTERTAINMENT IN THE
SAHARA.
ri^HE learned Professor Ducardanoy, and bis assistant,
J_ Bouchardy, liad been toiling along the desert's edge all
day. They bad Imped to reach the Algerian sett lenient i>f
Nonvelle Saar-Louis before night, but the sun was getting
near the blank western horizon of yellow saud, and the
low mountain upon wliieh Xonvelle Saar-Louis was built,
the last southern foot-hill of the Atlas, was still some twenty
miles away to the east.
"We shall have to camp here in the sand, and push on
in the morning," said the learned Ducardaiioy, who was, as
all his contemporaries knew, the most reuowiied living
chiropodist.
" I fear we shall," said the assistant, Bouchardy, who was
not, it must be understood, an assistant in Ducardaiioy 's
surgery, but merely an unscientific fellow who managed
the magic-lantern, ate wool, and breathed lire, and did
the other things which constituted the grand free enter-
tainment preceding Ducardanoy's evening lectures on the
science of chiropody, in the course of which he was accus-
tomed to perform a few gratuitous operations with Ducar-
dauoy's Corn Cure to prove its efficacy. " I fear we shall,"
said Bouchardy ; " but what is that building a mile or so to
the south ? Perhaps we Lad better go there."
"Ah! ha!'' said Ducardaiioy, looking through a field-
glass; "it is an old Roman tower. Undoubtedly it is, for
there is nothing Moorish about it, and the Romans and
French are the only people who have erected anything
more substantial than tents in this part of Algeria."
" I think we had better go there," said Bouchardy, - and
go rapidly, too. Look behind you."
Away off to the west, galloping along in the track of
the setting sun, was a cavalcade of horsemen.
" Spahis," said 1 im-ardanoy, calmly.
"Perhaps so," said Bouchardy. "Perhaps French cav-
alry, and perhaps Arab robbers. Who knows? It is best
to he prepared. If yon choose yon may stay here to sleep
in the saud to-night, and perhaps for all the nights there-
after forever; but as for me, I am going to the Roman
castle," and he spurred on his horse and arrived at the
tower some minutes after the learned Ducardaiioy, who was
better mounted than he, and, moreover, was not burdened
with a magic-lantern and other appliances used in the free
entertainment. They found the tower to he nothing more
than a plain round edifice with a single upper chamber iu
it, reached by a flight of narrow winding stairs ascending
iu a gentle incline. Up these stairs they led their horses,
as the Roman frontier guards had done centuries before,
and then looked out of the loop-holes for the approaching
enemy.
" We can easily keep any of them from coming up the
stairs," said Bouchardy.
"And they can easily keep ns from coming down,'' said
Ducardaiioy. " But perhaps they have not seen us."
They were soon satisfied on that score, for the cavalcade
of horsemen — thirty-five wild desert Arabs — halted before
the tower, and in broken French commanded the chiropo-
dist and his assistant to surrender. This command was
not obeyed. The Arabs laughed and picketed their horses.
and after a little a caravan of camels bearing tents and
women and children arrived, and the Arabs went into
camp for the night.
"If they kill us, the French government will wipe them
fr the fare of the earth," said Ducardaiioy, along tow-
ard the middle of the night.
" If the French government finds itont. But the death
of those scoundrels will not bring me to life," said Bou-
chardy. " I think it will be well to make a sortie.''
•' They would hear us taking the horses down ; and if we
start on foot we can't get so far away before daylight that
they could not soon discover us by making scouts into
the desert. Besides, I imagine that the entrance to the
tower is guarded."
" When morning comes, I will eat wool and breathe fire
and scare them away," said Bouchardy.
"To do that you must show yourself," said Diicardanoy.
"And they will fill you full of lead \\hile you are tilling
yourself with wool. But if we can scare them, it will be
the only way we can get rid of them."
" I have it," said Bouchardy.
A moment later the sentinel at the foot of the tower
gave an exclamation of surprise, for there, opposite him,
against the white walls of the Sheik's tent, in the midst
of a blaze of light, stood a French soldier bowing to him.
I'lomptly he sighted his ancient Hint-lock, and sent a
bullet between the soldier's eyes.
•• Mashalhih," said the sentinel, for the soldier kept on
bowing, and the hole in his head moved from his nose to
the roots of his hair and back again as he did so.
"The devil himself," said the sentinel: and even before
he finished saying it, the soldier had vanished, and there
stood the devil — a huge black fellow grinning and bowing.
Bang! went the sentinel's gun again, and by this time
the whole camp was aroused and staring at the Sheik's
tent, muttering and moaning the while. The tent flap
opened and the Sheik himself stepped out. and immediate-
ly there appeared on the white robes across his broad chest
a great bloody splash, in the midst of which shone a hideous
death's head. A cry of terror arose, and the Arabs begau
scurrying about in the darkness, saddling their horses and
camels, the women and children screaming, and in the
midst of the confusion there appeared in a loop-hole of the
tower the face of a man illuminated by the glow of the lire
he was breathing. Picket-ropes and saddle-girths were
dropped, and those who were not already mounted rushed
away on foot.
"We took iu more money from that entertainment than
we ever did in a year from the sales of corn medicine after
our ordinary entertainments," said Bouchardy. "They
have left behind them forty camels, ten horses, twelve
Damascus swords, six silver pipes, eighteen bales of silk,
thirty-live gold bracelets, six dozen rings, eight gold inlaid
bridles, and we haven't looked in the Sheik's treasure-
chest yet. Let us abandon the profession of chiropody,
and buy estates at Nouvelle Saar-Louis. It is a pleasant
place to live in, and will be convenient for ns in case we
start out on other expeditions to be robbed by Arab tribes."
W. A. CUKTIS.
1
KENNIBOY'S CIRCUS.
'D like to own a circus show. A splendid one 'twould
be;
Unlike the circus shows that in these days boys go to see.
I wouldn't have a leopard or a lion in the place,
Nor would I let a monkey show his ugly little face.
But I would fill it up with things like fairies, rives, and
gnomes,
Such as we read about in books of fairy tales and " pomes."
I'd have a big volcano throwing flames up to the sky,
And real cold icy icebergs, with great whales a -swim-
ming by.
And in a little side-show- I would have a burning lake,
And in another there would be a fearful big earthquake.
And 'stead o' camels, 'raiig-o-tangs, and other stupid things,
I'd have a lot o' cages chock up full o' Queens and Kings.
And I hen I'd have a pair o' huge big ogres with one eye,
And foiir-aud-twenty puppy-dogs all baked into a pie,
For them to eat at show-time, so that little boys could see
llo\\ really awful terrible those ogre-men can be.
I'd have a hen to lay gold eggs, and harps that play
themselves,
And bags and bags o' beau-stalk beans a-climbing over
shelves;
And Jacks and Hopmythumbs to fight the giants every day,
.lust as those splendid fairy-story books of mine all say.
I wouldn't charge a penny for admittance to my show.
Of course, 'twould be a most expensive thing to run, I
know.
But I could well afford it. I could make that circus pay
By selling off the golden eggs the gold egg heu would
lay. .JOHN KEXLMUCK BANGS.
1038
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
JOAN OF ARC.
EVERY one knows the story of Joan of Arc, and it never
fails to be interesting from whatever point yon look
at it or study it. Hut :i good many boys and girls think of
the story, as they do of many another read in school histories,
as being nothing more than one of many lessons learued
and to be learued. There is a great deal iu the history of
Joan's short life that is interesting as a practical story, to
say nothing of any other interest.
The little Joan of Arc was born in the southern central
part of France, in a little village called Domremy, partly
in Lorraine and partly in Champagne, 484 years ago, aud
though she led armies iu some of the most famous battles
ever fought in France, aud crowned a king, she never reach-
ed the age of twenty, and never learued to read or write.
Her father aud mother were peasants in Domremy and
were poor, as peasants in France always have been — so
pour that little Joan had to begin early to do her part
of the work, which meant three meals a day to the
family.
When she was old enough her father used to send her to
watch over the sheep all day long iu the fields aud woods
near their home, and all through these long hours, in the
•heat of summer or the cold of fall or spring, she had nothing
to do but think and watch sheep grazing. It was a strange
.age iu France four centuries aud a half ago. People general-
ly believed in visions, iu miracles, iu supernatural powers,
nud were easily influenced by fanaticism and enthusiasm
in religious and every -day matters. A huge crowd of
men, women, and children would become possessed with
some idea, aud would leave their daily work, their shops,
their house- keeping, and their games, aud rush to mar-
ket-place or field to carry out this idea. In many towns
the whole inhabitants would give their labor to build an
enormous cathedral. Hundreds of people would catch hold
of a long rope, and drag one of the big blocks of stone
through a city's streets to be placed on the cathedral walls,
and hundreds of unfortunate people and children were
killed by different kinds of accidents while working in this
fanatical way.
Then it was common, too, for some one to say that he or
she was inspired by visious and voices to do or say one
thing or another, and the people would rush after the in-
spired one to hear or to do whatever was ordered, or to try
aud be healed by touching the inspired person. Some were
rank fakirs, who every now and then grew rich before they
were discovered. Others really believed in all they said
aud did, and their confidence in themselves made hundreds
of people follow them.
It is a mistake to think this is all gone by nowadays, for
as a matter of fact it is not. Only a few years ago hundreds
of people in all the stages of consumption travelled to Ber-
lin to be treated by Dr. Koch, because he gave out, and no
doubt believed, that he had found a cure for it. At Lourdes,
ii city iu France, there is to-day a grotto where people go
for miles and miles around to be cured of all sorts of incur-
able diseases. Aud if these things attract people to-day,
when nobody really believes much in such matters, you cau
begin to realize what fearful enthusiasm there must have
been iu a day when every one was only too glad to believe
such things, aud wheu most persous felt more or less strong-
ly that they were some day going to have visions or mis-
sions of soiue kind.
It is not so surprising, then, that Joan, after spending
several years day after day alone in the fields, occasional-
ly hearing about all the troubles and wars in France, and
having hours aud hours wheu she could do nothing but
think, should have thought she was Suspired with a mis-
sion to save her country from the English invaders, and
that, once perfectly persuaded of this, she should have
quickly had a lot of people running after her and spread-
ing her fame abroad.
Another thing was not so unusual as it seems to-day.
Joan, when she finally saw Charles VII. of France, and per-
suaded him that he was the real King of France, and that
all they had to do was to march to Rheims and crown him
— Joan wore a suit of man's armor. She was only eighteen
years old, and a delicate girl of middle height. It was
unusual, of course, for so young a girl to go to war, but in
those days women led bodies of men, and some of them
wore armor. Women, who by birth and the absence of
male relatives had been left iu charge of large feudal es-
tates, had to keep little armies to protect their lands aud
fields from attack, and when such attacks did come they
had to go out in many eases and lead their men them-
selves.
So that while her visions, her calm confidence, and her
male dress were enough to attract attention, they did not
seem so impossible to the people of her time by a great deal
as they would to the people of to-day. And then, also, every-
body was ready to follow any "inspired " person who foretold
anything which really happened, or who carried out what he
or she started to do. Joan, after going to the King aud tell-
ing him that if he followed her he would become the crowned
King of France, began to find every one following her, believ-
ing in her just as calmly as she believed iu herself. The
Englishmen had invaded the north of France and held the
city of Paris, and the great Duke of Burgundy was in league
with them. They wanted to crown Henry VI. of England,
King of France also, and they marched southward and
captured Orleans, which practically opened southern France
to them.
Joan told King Charles VII. that she could recapture
Orleans, and crown him King at Rheims, and in a little
while he gave her five or six thousand men. Mounted on
her white horse, in full armor, she led these men on, and, by
her confidence aud vigor and good common-sense, persuaded
the generals to attack Orleans in a certain way. Haifa
dozen times the besiegers were practically defeated, aud
would have gone back, but Joan staid before the city gates,
aud no one could make her turn back. Such perfectly
fearless conduct acted just as it has always acted, just as
it acted a thousand times in the civil war, in the Revolu-
tion, and everywhere else. The men grew crazy with en-
thusiasm, and rushed again and again after Joan at the
defences of the city, with the result that they finally cap-
tured it.
Then any one was ready to follow the young girl, except
her enemies at court; aud wheu she ordered King, court,
army, and' all to go quickly northward into the part of
France within the English control, they followed. The
result was that Charles VII. was crowned King, and the
first man crowned meant a great deal then. It was all done
by a combination of shrewd common-sense, and the extraor-
dinary willingness to believe absolutely iu inspired peo-
ple and follow them with religious enthusiasm, which
always has beeu in history an irresistible force.
Afterward Paris was attacked, but as soon as Joan was
wounded the attack was dropped. Experienced generals
could not make men fight the way fchis girl could, though
she knew nothing of military tactics, and had never led
anything but sheep before.
All this time the English were trying to capture Joan,
and then prove her to be a sorceress, iu order to show that
any person crowned through her agency must of course lie
the wrong man. Hence Henry VI. could be crowned and
recognized as the real King of France. They did finally
buy her of one of the Duke of Burgundy's vassals; aud
then began a bogus trial to prove she was a sorceress,
siuce merely putting her to death without proving some
evil agency in her work would only make her a martyr.
Charles VII., once being King, did not know exactly what
to do with Joan, so he took no steps to rescue her from the
English, aud they spent many weary days in trying to
make her say something which could be used to prove she
was a sorceress. Failing in this, for she believed too
strongly in herself aud in her visious to alter her state-
ments, they killed her by burning her alive in the streetsof
Rouen, iu 1431, with the result that she became a martyr
at once, aud her work for France became the sacred belief
of all French people. Aud in all the sad and fascinating
story, the most interesting and wonderful point is the
courage, the bravery, aud the wonderful brain which a
young girl of nineteen or twenty had to sway men aud
capture cities and crown Kings.
1039
THE LTTTLE JOAX.
SEK "JoiN OF ARC," PAGE 1039.
1040
JNTERSCHOEASTIC
<• *
TWO IMPORTANT MATTERS were attended to at the meet-
ing of the Xew York Interscholastic Athletic Associa-
tion last Tuesday. Oue was the question which football
rulw shall govern the contests held under the supervision
of the association this fall, and the other was in regard to
the formation of a National Interscholastic Amateur Ath-
letic Association.
THERE WAS so MUCH BUSINESS of immediate local im-
portance for the association to transact that it was not
until late in the afternoon that, the question of organizing
the National I.S.A.A.A. could be brought up. But when it
was brought up the representatives of the schools were
unanimous in their opinion that the scheme should be put
through, and it was immediately voted that the matter be
taken up by the association, sitting as a committee of the
whole, at their next meeting. The first step in the matter
has now been taken, and we may consequently look for-
ward confidently to a new and brilliant era in the history
of school sports.
As TO THK FOOTBALL RULES, but little discussion was ne-
cessary. The constitution of the N.Y.I.S.A.A. specifies that
all games of the N.Y.I.S.F.B.A. shall be played under the
rules of the Inter-collegiate F.B.A., and as that association
this year consists merely of Yale and Princeton, the New
York school games will he conducted according to the
newly made Yale-Princeton or Inter-collegiate regulations.
As this code is, beyond any doubt, the best one of the three
at present in use, it is fortunate that the constitution of
the N.Y.I.S.A.A. was so worded as to provide for their adop-
tion.
THERE is xo DOUBT THAT if a National Interscholastic
A. A. A. lie formed, a team of athletes from the Oakland
High-School in California will come on to compete at the
first meeting. They are thoroughly in earnest out there.
A couple of weeks ago I quoted from the San Francisco
papers, which contained more or less accurate reports of
these young sportsmen's intentions, but since then I have
received a copy of the High-School ^Ef/is, Oakland Iligh-
School's paper in which there is an article entitled "The
Prospective Eastern Trip." It is too long to quote entire
in these columns, but a few paragraphs from it cannot fail
to be of interest. The article begins by saying that,
"Through the efforts of HARPER'S ROUND TABLE, a United States
Interscholastic Athletic Association bids fair to be formed, and if
the consolidation takes place, the first field day will be held at
Xcw York city in June, 1896. The association will consist of
all academies, preparatory and high schools in the United States
which are of enough prominence in athletics to be eligible. It
will be afar greater organization in point of numbers than the
Inter-collegiate Association. Xew England will have thirty schools
represented, Xew York eighteen, Long Island five, and Pennsyl-
vania twelve, besides many other schools in different parts of the
country."
The Jli/is is certainly correct in saying that, in point of
numbers, the National I.S.A.A.A. would b<; greater than the
I.C.A.A.A. New England would certaiuly have more than
thirty schools represented, for there are thirty schools in
the N.E.I.S.A.A. alone, and many important institutions
iiutside the organization that would certainly join. There
are also the Maine, the Connecticut, the Western Massa-
chusetts, the New York State, the Pittsburg, the Cook
County (Illinois,) the Dartmouth, and many other associa-
tions, which, by joining, would bring the membership,
reckoned in schools, up to the hundreds.
IN VIEW OF SUCH A REPRESENTATIVE gathering of the
schools of this country, the -Ki/is is perfectly justified in
remarking that " tbe school which wins the meet at Mutt
Haven next June will be the champion academic school of
the world; truly a great distinction." And continuing, it
asks: "Why should not the Oakland High-School be this
school? We have good athletes, who are capable of up-
holding the honor of the. school in any kind of company
and on any field." With such a spirit as this the Oakland
athletes cannot fail to be prominent in any contest they
may enter.
THE GENERAL PLAN OF THE TRIP EAST, to be made by the
O.H.-S. team, is to come directly to New York rid Denver
and Chicago. The present idea is to reach here early in
June, and to arrange a series of dual games with some of
the larger schools. Says the ^-Eijis :
"The crack schools of the East, with which the O.H.-S. team
would compete, are Andover and Worcester academies in Xew
England, and Barnard School of Xew York. A comparison of
their records with the records of those athletes now in school, in
addition to the probable records of the next field day, shows that
we do not suffer by the contrast. The fact must be also taken
into consideration, that we have nearly a year to improve in,
which the Eastern schools do not have, their track athletics end-
ing with the spring term, while ours continue into winter. The
time in the 220-yard, dash and 220-yard hurdle race is made
straightaway, while our records are made on a curved track, and
a very poor one at that. The difference in time is nearly a second
and a half, which brings our record in the 220-yard dash down to
about 23J seconds, which is very good."
The return trip might be made over the Northern route,
if the O.H.-S. team can arrange for games with the Mnlt-
nouiah A.C. of Portland, Oregon.
THE AMOUNT OF MONEY NECESSARY to defray all the ex-
penses that would be incurred in coming East is estimated
by the California athletes at |2500. They propose to col-
lect this sum from the members and (tliimni of the school,
from an entertainment to be given, and from contributions
by the business men of Oakland. They also count ou
making some profit from their share of the gate receipts
at the various games in which the team will compete.
Again,! cannot urge too strongly upon the leaders of ath-
letics in onr Eastern schools the desirability and advisa-
bility of encouraging these California sportsmen to come
East. It will give interscholastic sport a great boom in
every way, and raise the standard anil importance of school
contests. I have no doubt whatever that, as soon as the
Eastern trip of the O.H.-S. team is definitely decided upon,
Audover, Worcester, Hartford H.-S., Barnard, Cutler, and
many other schools will be eager to arrange dates for dual
games.
THERE is seen A GREAT NUMBER of school football
teams in and about Boston, that it is impossible, of
course, to include them all in one association. Even the
original I.S.F.B.A. has found it necessary to divide itself
into a Senior and a Junior League, so great was its mem-
bership. And so, as rapidly as new teams crop up and find
there is no room for them in existing associations, they will
form new organizations themselves, and eventually, mi
doubt, the great scholastic games of the year will he be-
tween the winning elevens of different associations, just as
the principal scholastic football game hereabouts is that
between the teams representing the New York I.S.F.B.A.
and the Long Island I.S.F.B.A.
1041
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE SUBURBAN ITn,n-Si .-11001, LEAGUE is seconil ill im-
portance, iu the neighborhood of Boston, only to the old
association made up of the Boston and Cambridge schools.
It is only a year old, but it is in a thriving condition, the
principal schools of its membership being the Medford,
Maiden, Melrose, and Winchester High-Schools. The cham-
pionship last year, the first of the League's existence, was
won by Maiden II. -S.. whose team defeated Medford H.-S.,
10-0, in the final game of the season. This fall the Subur-
ban League teams will start playing their championship
games on November 2d, when Medford and Winchester
meet at Medford, and Maiden and Melrose come together
at Melrose. The two winning teams will decide the cham-
pionship on the 9th.
THE MALDIOX H.-S. TEAM is in better condition at this
early date than auy of its rivals in the League. Captain
Flanders, who has been a member of the team for three
\ears, is putting his men through a course of training that
is developing all there is iu them. He is a capable player
himself, having held almost every position ou the team. In
his lirst year he was used in the rush line, and finally occu-
pied one end. The next year he weut in at right half-back,
and this season he will play full-back. He is astroug runner,
and is better at half than anywhere else; although at full
he will probably do a good deal of running with the ball,
and play close up as a sort of third half-back most of the
time. Swain at left guard has also played three years on
the team. He is the heaviest man in the aggregation, and
there is no better man in the League at breaking through
or making holes. Priest will leave end and go to right
half-back, and Atwood will be taken from the line, too, to
go iu as Priest's partner. Both men will require consider-
able coaching, but Atwood is a fast sprinter, and ought to
turn out well in his new position.
THE MEDFORD H.-S. TEAM is made up mostly of new
men, but it is full of good material. Captain McPherson
has had experience on the, team for two years, and will
have good control over his men, his position being at
quarter. But he has a hard row to hoe, and will deserve
no end of credit if he moulds all this awkward and green
energy into a team of players by November 2d. At Mel-
rose the prospects are but little better. The new men are
light, and most of them are inexperienced, only two ever
having played ou school teams before. These two, Harris
and Libby, will no doubt take care of the ends, as they
seem best fitted for those positions. If necessary, Libby
can go in at quarter. The material back of the line is un-
usually light, even for a school team. Bemis, however, is
a bard runner, and tackles well, and will no doubt be the
regular full-back. The other candidates are a little slow
iu their work, and are much in need of vigorous coaching.
They could well spend an hour of every morning iu passing
and falling ou the ball.
THERE IS GOOD MATERIAL at Winchester, although only
three of last year's eleven are again in school. The lack
of old players, however, is amply compensated for by the
enthusiasm of the new, and I shall expect to see Winches-
ter well up toward the top of the ladder at the end of the
season. Ordway, the Captain and full-back, bus played on
the team two years, and is a good man to give the ball to.
He gets around the ends in good style, and is not afraid ot
bucking the centre. Thus far the candidates are playing
well together, although they are a little slow at breaking
np interference, and sometimes fail to follow the ball as
closely as they should. In a word, their aggressive, play
is better than their defensive work. The latter should
receive attention.
AXDOVER'S PLAY IN THE RECENT GAME against Boston
College was quick and snappy, and of a kind that may well
giveLawrenceville some anxiety. P. A. rolled np 22 points
in two fifteen-minute halves, and came pretty near scoring
four more as time was called. The Boston men were hea-
vier, but lacked the training which clearly characterized
Andover's work. Douglass was put in at half iu place of
Goodwin, who is temporarily laid np. and made the star
play of the game. It occurred at the opening of the sec-
ond half. Andover kicked oft, and Boston returned it.
Douglass caught the ball about in the centre of the field,
and ran. He dodged half the Boston team, and crossed the
line for a touch-down. Bntterlicld did good work like-
wise, making several gains through the line. The Andover
men seemed to have no trouble in making holes in the Bos-
ton College line, and after each play the forwards wen- no-
ticeably quick iu lining up. Andover is going to have, a.
good team.
THE EXETER ELEVEN is pretty well knocked out. Halt"
the men who were in good shape two weeks ago are more
or less seriously injured now, and it is probable that the
P.E.A. team this year will be as poor a one as has repre-
sented the school for some time. This condition of affairs
is due not so much to poor material as to bad judgment ou
the part of the captain and the manager. Before tin-
team was iu any condition to perform such hard work,
games were arranged with Tufts College, Boston A. A.,
M.I.T., and Dartmouth. Each one of these teams was
heavier than the Exeter eleven, and as a result several
P. E. A. men are limping about the Academy grounds, and
one or two men will not play football again this fall. The
game agains' Dartmouth, especially, was hard for Extter.
In bucking the Hanover rush -line five of P.E.A.'s best
men were hurt.
THE MOST SERIOUS LOSS was Hawkins, the quarter-back.
The other men behind the line had come to depend consider-
ably upon him, and when Martin was put iu his place they
weut to pieces. Perhaps they should be not too severely
blamed for this, for Martin is a wretched player and ought
never to be allowed at quarter-back again until he learns a.
good deal more about the game. In the Tufts game Martin
passed the ball ou more than one occasion to his opponents.
When Thomas took his place in the second half there was
a slight recovery from the previous demoralization, but
P.E.A. did no scoring. If Exeter had arranged her games
agaiust lighter and weaker teams in the early part of the
season, and had fixed the dates with these older men for
now and the following weeks, her players would have been
better able to stand the hard work required of them.
IT is JUST THIS SOKT or THING that brings football into
disrepute with people who don't know anything about the
name. They see in the papers that Brown, Jones, aud
Robinson are hurt as a result of playing football. They
do not stop to reflect that possibly Brown, Jones, and Rob-
inson had no business playing the game, but at once decry
football. Possibly if Brown, Jones, aud Robinson had
been put on horseback and trotted around a field they
would have been much lamer, aud certainly they would
have been much more liable to get their necks broken.
Take two elevens in training and let them play a game ;
there will be no one hurt in all probability. Take twenty-
two men who are not in auy kind of training and set them
loose ou a gridiron for two fifteen-minute halves and see
how many doctors you will need at the end of the game.
That's the secret of most of the outcry agaiust football.
Half the men who get hurt would not have gotten hurt if
they had gone at it properly, and it, is almost always of
these fellows that the general public gets reports. Then-
is a good deal for the general public to learn about foot-
ball.
TIIEP.E is ONE GOOD THING I notice in the methods of
the Chicago High-School teams. They play only fifteen-
minute halves in their football matches, and that is a very
proper arrangement for the early part of the season.
Young players cannot stand the strain of full-time play at.
first, and it is the height of folly to try to play two thirtj -
five-minute halves at present. Even the big college teams
do not attempt such severe work, playing usually twenty
or twenty-live minute halves until the 1st of November,
by which time the men have become seasoned, aud arc
able to stand the exertion of full-time play. School teams
should begiu by playing short halves, gradually leugtheu-
1042
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
ing them until the full time is reached two
or three weeks before the important game.
At first it is even better to play three
periods of ten minutes, with a short rest
between each, than two fifteen - minute
halves with only one rest. It all depends
on the size and strength of the men who
are playing, and the Captain must be the
judge iu these matters. His idea should be
to get. the greatest development with the
smallest possible strain on his men.
THE JUNIOR LEAGUE SCHEDULE of the
New England F. B. A. has been arranged,
and several matches have already been
played. The dates are as follows:
Roxhury High — October llth, Newton High at. New-
ton ; October 19th, Chelsea at Franklin Park; Novem-
ber 2d, Koxbury Latin at South End Grounds; No-
vember 9th, Dedham at Dedliam; November 20Ui,
Somerville at Somerville; November 23d, Hyde Park
at Franklin Park.
Chelsea High— October 19th, Roxbury High at
Franklin Park; October 23d, Somerville at ^omci-
ville; October 26th, Roxbury Latin at Brookiine Com-
mon ; November 1st, Newton at Chelsea; November
7th, Hyde Park at Chelsea; November 16lli, Dedham
at Dedham.
Roxbury Latin— October ISth, Hyde Park at Hyde
Park; October 26th, Chelsea High at Brookline Com-
mon; October 30th, Somerville High at Somerville;
November 2d, lioxlmry High at South End ; Novem-
ber 8th, Newton High at Newton; November 13th,
Dedbam High at Dfdliam.
Dedham High— October 14th, Somerville at Somer-
ville; October 25th, Newton at Newton; November
let, Hyde Park at Dedham; November 9th, Roxbury
HiL'b at Dedham; November 13th, Hoxbury Latin at
Dedliam ; November 16th, Chelsea at Dedham.
Somerville Ili-b— ( ictob.T 14th, Dedham at Somei-
ville; October 23d, Chelsea; October 30th, Roxbnry
Latin; November l'2th, Hyde Park; November 20lli,
Roxbury High ; November 22d, Newton High.
Hyde Park High— October 18th, Roxbury Latin at
Hyde Park ; November 1st, Dedliam High at Dedham ;
November 7th, Chelsea High at Chelsea; November
12th, Somerville High at Somerville; November 15th,
Newton High at Newton; November 23d, Roxbury
High at Franklin Park.
Newton High— October llth, Roxbury High at New-
ton ; October 25th, Dedliam High at Newton; Novem-
ber 1st, Chelsea High at Chelsea; November 8th, Rox-
bury Latin nt Newton ; November 15th, Hyde Park at
Newton ; November 22(1, Somerville High at Somer-
ville.
The winner of the series meets the tail-
ender of the Senior League to determine
whether or not they shall exchange places
next season. THE GRADUATE.
This Department is coiiiinc-teil in tile interest ^.1' st:imp an.l coin
collectors, and the Editor will he pleased to answer any question un
these subjects so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor
Stamp Department.
THE DULL SEASON just ended has been ex-
tremely interesting from the fact that
a large number of stamps have been ad-
vancing iu value by leaps and bounds. 80
many new collectors have come into the
h'eld that the supply of scarce and rare
stamps has been much smaller than the
demand. This has been the case especially
in unused U.S. stamps to such a degree
that dealers have refused to sell, calculating
that they would make more money by hold-
ing otf. The Department stamps have
scored the greatest advance. The Execu-
tives, Mild a few years ago for $4 or $5 per
set, command $25 to $30 to-day. The Justice
set, which could be bought for $8 or $10 a
aet, are difficult to find at $80 or $90. Even
the despised Interior, worth formerly 75c.
to $1 per set, now bring $5 to $6. A fine set
of State formerly owned by the writer, and
sold for $40 in 1891, changed hands the other
day at $250.
In a word collectors with money — bankers,
merchants, noblemen, and even royalties —
have greatly increased ill numbers during
the past three years, whereas there are no
more unused U.S. stamps to-day than for-
merly. Indeed, there are fewer stamps on
the market, as there is a constant desinir-
tion of old albums and collections, through
tire, water, and carelessness.
Used stamps are not appreciated to as
grent an extent as unused, as the great de-
mand has led to the looking over of every
lot of old letters within the reach and
knowledge of collectors. Consequently
the common varieties of U.S. stamps and
envelopes are somewhat of a drug iii the
market, and are bought by dealers to-day
chiefly on the chauce of finding one or more
of the scarcer kinds in the lot of "cheap
trash. "
I WAS MISTAKEN in my opinion that the
recent find of 11 big lot of St. Louis stamps
would bring down their price. The exact
contrary has been the efi'ect. Two or three
of our largest collectors are ready to buy
these stamps at an increased valuation, as
they are now " plating." That is, they are
making up sheets of these stamps as orig-
inally issued. As there were two papers
and three plates, and each plate contained
six stamps, to make up a complete set would
require thirty-six stamps iu all. The ci -.(.
of such a set of six plates of six stamps
each would probably he at least .*!.">. M in,
possibly |20,000.
THE NEW CATALOGUES are appearing.
The lirst in the field was Seuf 's, then Stan-
ley Gibbon's ; the next to appear will prob-
alily be Scott's. Meanwhile J.W.Scott lias
issued a circular of the new prices of the
U. S. issues, and probably will soon issue a
new edition of "Our Catalogue," which
was the first ever made iu the handy pocket
form.
Miss C. A.— The New Jersey cents are worth from
25c. to $3 each, according to condition, etc.
PHILATUS.
ADVJOKTISKMENTS.
Highest of all in Leavening Strength. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report.
J Baking
Powder
LUTELV PURE
Ladies' and Children's
Furnishings
Children's Long and Short Coats,
School Gou'iis,
Capes, Dresses, & Caps
Matinees. Tea Goiens,
Wrappers, Corsets.
Paris Underwear
J
NEW YORK.
1043
^wCf;
Oh, Boys and Girls,
AND ALL WHO ARE YOUNG AT HEART
IF NOT IN YEARS,
HEBE IS FUH FOR YOU.'
WATERLOO is novel and exciting! It
costs $1.25 ($1.50, express prepaid from
publishers). It is one of the famous
Parker Games
Our Illustrated Catalogue, including " Inno-
cents Abroad," " Chivalry," " Authors,"
"Napoleon," "Yankee Doodle," and no
others, for two-cent stamp. "Brownies" r.nd
"Wonderland," by mail, 35 cents each. I." k
PARKER BROTHERS, Salem, Mass., U.S. A.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
ij&\m^
Bicycle route
fair bicycle rovd.
way staf/on
or poor
Hotel.
BICYC JNG
This Department is conducted in the
-- ':~- -n the subject. "
3 answer any question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain mu(
s- supplied from the official map3 and road-books of the League cf Americ
nizint: the value of the work being done by the L. A. W., the Editor wi
^ subscribers with membership blanks and information so far as possible.
ind the Editor will be pleased to
valuable data kindly
ricau Wheelmen. Recop-
will he p'eased to furnish
FROM Benefit Street and Gluey Street, Providence, to
the Boston Common is forty-seven miles, and this is
the distance to be run ou the sixth and last stage of the
two-buudred-and-tifty-eight-mile trip from New York to
Boston. Wherever you may put up in Providence, it is
well to make for Benefit Street first ou starting for Boston.
Thence proceed, and turn into Oluey Street, following this
to East Avenue, when the run to Pawtucket is direct, and
it is a capital four-mile run at that. The rider will do
well, after crossing the river, to bear to the right, and, cross-
iug the Massachusetts border, rim into Lebanon Mills, just
on the Massachusetts side. Or to be more explicit, after
leaving Pawtucket turn to the left, cross a stone bridge,
bear to the left immediately after crossing, then take the
next left fork, and finally bear to the right at the third fork,
and make for Lebanon Mills direct. Take Cottage Street
out of Lebanon, and turn to the right at the cemetery, anil fol-
low the maiu road to Hebrouville. Thence the road is He ar
through Dodgeville across the track to Attleborough. From
Attleborough, crossing the river, you take the left turn at
Fourth Street, and run direct, though by a somewhat round-
about road, to West Mansfield, which is a good twenty miles
from Providence. From West Mansfield run northward,
keep to the right, cross the track, and run into Mansfield
Junction. Crossing tracks, run ou to East Foxborough, and
thence leaving Sharon on the westward, proceed to East
Sharon. The rider should take care to turn to the right at
the railroad round-house near Massapoag Pond, and avoid
running on into Sharon. From Cobb's Tavern at East
Sharon the run to Canton is direct and very good, as is also
the road from Canton to Ponkapog, though you should take
care to take the right fork a mile and a half out from
Cobb's Tavern, and a mile and a half further ou to turn
sharp left at a crossroads. From Ponkapog the rider runs
ou by Blue Hill ou Blue Hill Avenue, passing down through
Mattapau toAVarreu Street, and on this to Harrison Avenue,
to Chester Park, to Columbus, to Boston Common. The fol-
lowing are the directions by the road from Boston. The
reverse trip to Providence is given, because it is one of the
good runs out of Boston.
STAIITIXG AT COPLEY SQUARE, leave Public Library ou
the' right, and go out Huntingtou Avenue to Parker Street ;
there turn to the left, following Parker to Tremont, there
turn to the left onto Tremout, and at New Heath Street
turn to right, at Parker Street turn to left, and follow it to
Centre Street, turn to right onto Centre, and take direct
road to Jamaica Plain, continue till monument is reached.
then take South Street to the left of monument, and 01
reaching water-trough turn to the left, cross over the- rail
road tracks, and turn to the right onto Walkhill Street to
the fork, when- keep to right outo Hyde Park Avenue,
which follow till it joins Central Park Avenue. Continue
on last-named avenue to River Street, and then turn to
right. Ride across the square, and go, via Centre Street
and River Street, to Milton Street, turn to the right. Turn
to left at High Street, on reaching Washington Street take
that past Memorial Hall, Dtdham, to Norwood, past Public
Library, and at fork of roads keep to right into Walpole,
\\here, at the Common near Town Hall, turn to the left,
and after a run of a quarter of a mile turn to the right, and
from the turnpike-road turn to the right to South Walpole.
9. Map of route from v^v Y..rk
ticut, in No. Sll. New York to
NOTE.— Mun of NVu York city asphalted streets in No. 809.
N<w Y.-rk I" Stamford, C
to Tarrvlown in
Staten fsland in No. 812. New Jersey from Hc.boken to Pine Brook in No. 813. B-ooklyn in
No 814. Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No. 816. Tarrytown
to Poughkeepsie in No. 817. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in No. SIS. Hudson to Albany in No.
M't T'.tttsiivill.? to Trenton in No t>20. Trenton to Philadelphia in No. 821. Philadelphia
ii, No. B2S. IMiihi.lelrihia— Wissahickon Route in No. 823. Philadelphia to West Cheater in
V, - i t'litla-leljiliiii tn Atlantic City— First stage in No ^25; Second Stage in No. 826.
Philadelphia to Vineland— First Staee in No. »27. Second StaCe in No. 828. New i urk t/.
H-IMH— Sec. .nd Stape in No. s>W ; Third Stage in No. 830 ; Fourth SlaKe in No. 831 ; Fifth
Stage in N*. 332
1044
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
In Iraving this village keep to left, and take
East Foxborough road, but on reaching Com-
mon bear to right, and turn to right into
South Street, and go to forks, where take
the left fork to the turn of the road, then
turn to the right and cross Wading River,
and after passing reservoir you reach forks,
take left one to end, then turn to right onto
Pleasant Street, which follow to Park Street.
Turn to right and cross railroad, continuing
to fountain, turn to left onto South Main
Street to car track, and follow car track to
Hebronville, cross Lebanon Bridge, keep
straight road via Central Avenue, following
car tracks to Six Corners, there take left
fork with car tracks and Cottage Street to
junction of car tracks. In Pawtucket turn
to left on Summit Street, take first right,
Slain Street, keeping to left at the forks,
then first left onto School Street, and bear
to right at forks to the first cross street,
turn to right onto Division Street, and cross
the river, turn to left onto Pleasant Street,
the continuation of which is Seven Point
Road, take first left beyond cemetery, then
follow Blackstoue Boulevard to the end, and
continue via of Butler Avenue, following
car tracks, and turning to right at Angell
Street, pass the asylum wall, take third
street to left, follow Cook Street, turn to
right onto Benevolent Street, right onto
Benefit Street, turn to left onto College
Street, and down hill into Market Square.
Any questions in regard to photograph matters will be willingly
answered by the Editor of this column, and we should be glad to hear
from nny of our club who can make helpful suggestions.
MOUNTING PICTURES FOR TEE PRIZE
COMPETITION.
\ LTHOUGH directions for mounting
Xi. prints have been given in this column,
etill a few extra hints may not come amiss
to our competitors.
The mounting of pictures has a great
deal to do with their artistic finish, and as
technical excellence is one of the points on
which the prize pictures are to be marked,
of course the mounting of the pictures is
included in this term.
There are many styles of card-mounts, and
in selecting a mount be sure that the color
of the card harmonizes with the color of the
print. Do not use a gray mount for pic-
tures with warm brown tones. A creamy-
white is the color that is best adapted to
most prints. A very attractive card-mount
is what is called a "plate -sunk" mount.
The card has a depression in the centre a
little larger than the print to be mounted,
and has the effect of a frame. This card is
of heavy board and rather expensive, yet it
pays to buy a good card -mount for prize
competition pictures.
Never mount a print on a card only a
trifle larger than the print. The picture
should have at least an inch-wide margin all
round. A 4 X 5 print should be mounted on
a 6 x 8 card, and larger prints on correspoud-
ingly larger cards. Do not use what is called
a 4x5 card- mount for a 4x5 picture. If
you have never used a larger mount than
one which just fits the picture try an un-
mounted print on a largo sheet of plain
paper, and see how much the picture gains
in beaut}- by having a wider margin to the
mount.
A nice way to mount prints for exhibi-
tion is to first mount the print on a plain
card, and then place a mat over it of rough
water-color paper, or such paper as is used
to mat pictures. In using a mat do not
trim the photograph ; mount it in the centre
of the card, and then place the mat over it.
Mount your pictures in as neat and at-
tractive manner as possible, and see if it
does not raise your standard of "technical
excellence."
SIB KNIGHT FKBI>. P. MOORE asks if there is any way
to fix a defective plate that lias holes or scratches on
the film ; if chemicals can be bought at drug stores,
and are they cheaper or dearer than those bought of
the photograph dealers; and would also like the for-
mula for paste given over again. A negative that has
scratches in the film can have the holes or scratches
filled up in this way : apply retouching fluid to the
spots in manner directed on bottle. When it is dry
take a soft lead-pencil and mark or pencil out the
spots, filling them with the soft lead. Be careful not
to mark any place except where the holes and scratches
are, as all such marks will show in the print. It is
best to experiment with a spoiled negative first before
attempting to retouch a good plate. A little practice
and a steady hand will soon enable an amateur to re-
touch the spots in his negatives so that the print wil!
show a perfect picture. It is much cheaper to buy
photographic chemicals at the regular dealers; for
instance, I bought 5 grs. of ferricyanide of potassium
at the druggist last week for which I paid ten cents,
and a few days later bought an ounce at the dealers
in photographic goods for which I paid ten cents.
Druggists keep good chemicals, but they charge more
for them. The formula for paste is as follows : 1 oz.
best arrowroot, 40 grs. sheet gelatine, % oz. methylated
spirits, 3 drops of carbolic acid. Mix the arrowroot
with 1 oz. of water, then add 7 oz. of water and the
gelatine broken in bits. Boil for five minutes, stirring
all the time, and when nearly cold stir in the spirits
slowly, and then the acid. Keep tightly corked, and
when wanted for use take out a little and rub smooth
with a knife.
TOUNG MOTHERS
should early learn the necessity of keeping on hand a
supply of Gail Bordeu Eagle Brand Condensed Milk
for nursing babies as well as for general cooking. It
has stood the test for 30 years, and its value is recog-
nized.— [Adv.]
ADVERTISEMENTS.
Every whale
has barnacles-
every success
has imitators.
The De Long
' Patent Hook and Eye.
\
See that
hump?
Jtichardsoti
& De Long Srot.,
Philadelphia.
There are two
classes of bicycles —
COLUMBIAS
and others
Columbias sell for $100 to everyone
alike, and are the finest bicycles the
world produces. Other bicycles sell
for less, but they are not Columbias.
POPE MFG. CO., HARTFORD, CONN.
You See Them
Everywhere
S5 1. $25
MAY BE READILY EARNED
IN LEISURE HOURS
By a. boy or girl in each town between
now and Christmas.
COSTS NOTHING TO TRY IT.
Alpha Publishing Company, Boston, Mass.
Stamps,
&«£. STAMPS ON APPROVAL c«»
Choicest -i inri|.- at lowest prices.
Send for one of these Packets. V. S. at 2556 Com.
2.00
15
50 Varieties, France .20 «
Brooklme, Mass.
ic. to isc. inclusiv
-40
P H-
1 • VJ«
jnnn Mixed Foreign Postage Stamps, including
1UUU Fiii Islands, Samoa, Hawaii, Hong Kong, for
34c. in stamps ; 10 varieties U. S. Columbian stamps,
25c.; entire unused 5c. and lOc. Columbian Enve-
lopes, 25c. the pair. Only a limited number were is-
sued by U S Government. E. F. GAMES, Box 2031,
San Francisco, Cal. Established, 1872.
O TAMPS FKEE— Set unused Turkish for 2e. stamp
O 20 Heligoland, 25c. ; 6 Sardinia, 5c. ; 6 Bavaria, 5c.
S Japan, 5c. ; 8 Samoa, lOc. ; 3 Corea, lOc. : 3 China, 6c.
lilt), no two alike, lOc. Albums, 5c., 10c.,2Kc., and 50c.
J. A. WILSON 1108 Fairmount Ave., Philadelphia, Pa.
100 all dif. Venezuela,Bolivia,etc.,only lOc.;
2l«iiilldif.Hayti, Hawaii, etc., only SOc.Ag'ts
wTdat50perct.com. List FREE1 C. A.
Stegiiianii,5941CoteBriliante,St.Louis,Mo.
var- Canada ice. 3 var. New Brunswick. loc. 100
r fine stamps with Album and Stickers. 25C. looofine
rmxed forc.innumrs «c. Sheets on approval at soperceM.com.
H. F. KETCHESON. Box 499, Belleville, Out.
Mixed Australian, etc., lOc.; 105 -varie-
ties, and nice album, Inc.: 15 unused.lOc.;
luAfrica.lOc.; 15Asia,10c. F.P.Vincent,Chatham,N.Y.
23 var unused stamps,10c.; S Samoa, 8c.; 14 Roman
States, 8C. EXCELSIOR STAMP CO., Keyport, N. J.
104.",
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Conditions for the " Word Hunt."
Following is a list of answers to some questions
:bich have been put to us concerning the $50
Word Hunt." Many asked tlie same questions,
ut we endeavor to answer all the different ones
i tbe following :
No other authorities than Webster or Worcester
jay be used. Words that are marked "obsolete"
i the Dictionary may not be used, neither may
nd words. One letter may not be used
wii'ij unless it appears twice in the Puzzle Words.
• •r "a" is a word. By proper names is
leant not only given names of persons, but any
rords that must be commenced with a capital let-
sr.
Prefixes and suffixes may not be used exrp;,t
:uen they form part of a simple word. Words of
:ie same meaning but spelled differently are allow-
ble, but words of different meanings and spelled
like are not. The possessive case, diphthongs,
iang words, abbreviations, and contractions are
ot allowable. Degrees of comparison, the differ-
at forms of the verb, and plurals that are formed
therwise than by adding " s " are allowable, also
'ords in the Appendix.
Words derived from !he Latin or Greek may be
sed.but words commonly used, yet purely foreign,
lay not. All the letters contained in the Puzzle
fords need not be used ; each word may contain
ny number of letters, no matter how few, so long
5 they form a word. One person may try for
nly one prize— senior or junior.
All are invited to compete, whether subscribers
r not. If you are not a member of the Order of
16 Round Table, write to the publishers for a
[etabership Patent. We request that answers be
•ritten on one side of the paper only, and that
ich word be numbered. Write the words in
[phabetieal order, as far as possible, and do not
)11 the sheets, but send them either flat or folded.
A Delightful Morsel from South Africa.
Winter is almost over. We bave had a very
•arm one. Spring is not supposed to come until
epternber, but already the trees are getting quite
reen. and birds and butterflies are coming back.
?e very seldom see snow at Roydon, and have
ad none this winter, but we are having a fearful
rought. It is over a year since we bad rain. The
irmers are looking very anxious about their crops.
In October the "shearing" begins. Yon meet
rerywbere bands of Kafirs in their red blankets,
nob-berries (sticks with a huge knob at one end,
Bually carried by natives) in their hands, and a
undle containing a pot, tin beaker, shears, and
>metimes boots, slung over their shoulders ; these
re "shearers." The farmers hire them at the rate
f about sixpence (twelve cents) for ten .sheep,
bt much, is it? but the Kafirs are easily satisfied.
The sheep are put into an enclosure. Each Ka-
r, stripped to the waist, seizes one and com-
lences to shear the wool off. Sometimes they
re careless and cut tbe flesh. Then a man stand-
ig by dips a brush in tar and rubs the place over.
his not only heals it, but keeps the flies off. As
)on as a shearer has finished a sheep he receives
"loikee" (bean or something of that sort). At
le end of the day he receives payment according
> the amount of loikees in his possession.
The wool is packed into large bales and is sold
y the pound. Dealers send tbe bales by rail to
ic seaports, where they are shipped to England,
ad come back to us in the shape of clothes. It is
ist as well to keep to windward of the shearing-
ouse. Not being addicted to water, the Kafirs
ave an odor peculiarly their own. As I once
eard it remarked, " it is enough to knock a fellow
own." if you go too near.
We M-ll a great deal of fruit in the summer. Our
•nit ripens then, not in autumn. Early in the
lorning the men begin to pick and pack tbe fruit.
n 1893 we sold 9100 apricots, 10,718 plums— which
icludes New Orleans, Golden Drop, Magnum Bo-
urn, Damsons, Greengages, and tbe common blue
lum— and 16,243 peaches and nectarines, besides
undreds of apples, pears, and figs. In the winter
:e bave oranges, lemons, shaddocks, and citrons.
ur winter fruit was a failure this year on account
f the droiiL-lit.
We send most of our fruit to East London, where
, has a ready sale. In their season we have lo-
quats, granadillas, and walnuts. We almost live
on fruit in the summer. The weather is unbear-
ably hot. Last Christmas day was very hot, and
all we felt inclined to do was to lie about in the
shade and drink cooling drinks. As evening ap-
proaches we get merry again. It is cool almost as
soon as the sun sets. We have no twilight to speak
of. It is lovely out-of-doors in tbe evening. We
promenade up and down and watch the stars.
My friend, Douglas Ritcbie, who is thirteen years
of age, has started a stamp collection. He would
like to exchange South African stamps for those
of other countries. He is also very anxious to join
the Round Table. Will you send him a Patent,
please 5 His address is The Manse, Queenstuwn,
(.'ape Colony, South Africa. My letter is getting so
long that I must conclude. Will you please give
my love to dear Mrs. Sangster, and tell her I do en-
joy tbe "Pudding Stick " so much.
ISMA FlNCHAM, R.T.L.
Rovrto.v, QUKENSTOWN, CAP* COLONY, SOUTH AFRICA.
Of course we'll send the Patent. Mrs. Sangster
thanks you warmly, and is much gratified to learn
that you so greatly enjoy her Pudding Stick. She
gives you, her distant but not less dear reader, her
most cordial greeting. Won't you write another
just as good morsel as this oney
Directions for Playing "Newcomb."
I have had so much fun from the following game
that I am induced to give it to the Table. We boys
of Trinity School, N. Y., were the first to play it in
this vicinity. I think it was originated by a lady
gymnastic teacher in New Orleans, 'who wished to
devise some good healthful game requiring not too
much exertion.
Two lines are drawn, one on each side of the
gymnasium, about ten or twelve feet from the wall.
Two sides are chosen. Each takes its place inside
the line. A referee and score-keeper are appoint-
ed. The referee tosses a football (a Rugby is tbe
best) to one of the teams. The man on the team
receiving the ball throws it to the opposing team,
his object being to throw the ball so that it will fall
behind tbe other team's line. If he scores a touch-
down—that is, if it goes inside the line, it counts
three points to the side throwing the ball. If the
ball does not fall inside, but outside the line, it
counts a foul, and scores a point against tbe side
throwing it.
If a member of either team, whether he is receiv-
ing or throwing the ball, steps over or on the line,
it constitutes a foul, and scores one point against
his side. Of course tbe swifter the ball is thrown
the more unlikely any member of the opposing
team is to catch it. A certain length of time to
play had better be agreed upon. I nearly forgot
to mention that two lines must be drawn at right
angles to the principal ones— that is. a line at each
end. Should the ball go outside these lines it is a
foul. These rules can be perfected and enlarged
according to any one's desire.
I give a diagram showing how the lines should be
drawn, and how the men could be arranged, if de-
sired. This diagram is for a team of ten men. The
game is called Newcomb.
Roi C. MEGRUE, R.T.K.
Entertainments for the 1 10 .1
Not a few fairs and entertainments are planned
for tbe near future in aid of tbe School Fund.
There are to be fairs at Newton, N. J. : Upper Ny-
ai-k. N. Y.; and Edgecombe Road, New York city ;
and stereopticon entertainments in Washington,
Louisville, Dayton, and Piqua, O ; Easton, Pa. ;
Sornerville, Perth Amboy, and East Orange, N. . I. ;
Brooklyn and Utica, N. Y.; Newport. R. I.; and. a
little later on, Cincinnati, O. Besides, Mr. Kirk
Munroe is to give a reading and reception in New
York city.
Why may not there be held, at or near tbe boli-
1046
days this year, say early in December, a great num-
ber of fairs? Mr. Munroe's letter describing bis
visit to Good Will Farm has aroused much inter-
est. It explains all about the work there. If yon
are interested, send to us for a copy. It will be
sent you free. Write us about any proposed effort
in your town. Suppose we hear from three «r
four persons in one town? We immediately bring
you together and there is a working force all ready
to hand. Besides, we can help you with sugges-
tions—possibly with an entertainment all ready to
your hand. How many can we hear from ?
Ifoclpmo 1ban&.
The truth of the Table's adage that "everything
conies to those who try" was strikingly illustrated
recently. Some Ladies of Newton, N. J., planned
a fair in aid of the School Fund. Of course it was
a delightful occasion. There was much bard work,
and there were some disappointments, but tbe
splendid sum of $30 was netted. Those who had
the great pleasure of giving this amount to the
Fund were :
Helen Leyton, Mabel T. Roof, Eleanor Hay ward.
Mollie Morford, Katherine Atwood, Emma How-
ard. Edna L.Eoof, Mary S. Roof, Harry Howard,
Waldemar Howard, Louis Laytou, Harry Lubbs.
Clarence Howard, Thomas S. Woodruff:
At about the same lime some other Ladies in the
upper part of New York city held a fair. They.
too, had hard work and some discouragements,
but then, like the Ladies of Newton, they enjoyed
a great deal of satisfaction in the end, for they
were able to send to the Fund $T1 60. The Table
most heartily thanks all who helped at these two
fairs. It also urges other Ladies, Chapters, and all
readers to try to bold fairs for the same purpose.
Let us have one hundred fairs and entertainments
this autumn and winter. Then we shall surely lay
the corner-stone of the building early iu the spring.
Write the Table for suggestions, or see tbe Handy
Book.
* , *
/lore Chutes to Shoot.
An interesting article appeared in the ROUND
TABLE on "Shooting the Chutes." The writer
mentioned that there were four "Chutes" in dif-
ferent parts of the country. There are two more,
which have probably, been erected since the article
was written, one at Washington Park, Philadelphia,
and the other at Atlantic City. They were both
erected this year. The one at Atlantic City was
the attraction of the season and a wonderful finan-
cial success. It earned tbe whole cost of its con-
struction, $33,000. There will doubtless be another
one next year, for people do not seem to tire of
the exhilarating sport.
ATLANTIC CITV. IllWIN SlIUPP, JUN., R.T.K.
An Appeal from Australia.
We live on Red Hill, a suburb of Brisbane. We
have a very nice view from our place, and in sum-
mer a nice breeze springs up which mitigates the
intense heat of the day, while in winter it is rather
cold. We go to a state school, called the "Nor-
mal." We would like to correspond with some
girl of our own age (thirteen years) from any for-
eign country. Here is the address for any girl who
would like to write, Yenie Lawson and Annette
Wilson, Normal School, Brisbane, Queensland, Aus-
tralia.
Let's have Some Explanations.
After Jotaphat had been captured by tbe Ro-
mans, Josephus, the historian, fled to a cavern with
forty other Jews. Ills companions resolved to kill
each other rather than surrender. Josephus pre-
tended to agree, but claimed that, being leader, it
was bis privilege to arrange them in good order
for death, and that, beginning to count from one
end to a certain number, they should put to death
the person on whom that number should fall, until
only one man should remain, who should kill him-
self. Tbe men agreed, and Josephus so arranged
himself and the forty others that at the end of the
slaughter he remained, with one other, whom he
persuaded to live. How did Josephus airange his
men ?
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
ilpje, t <•> I'.i
nt is C(*nih]< t*'l m tlie
E,lu.,r »ill I,, ,i. ,<:,-.•.! to answer any question on
3 possible. Correspondents sliould nil.tress Editor.
I TAKE it for granted tliat it is a class
prophecy which my correspondent, who
is pn/zk-d mi this score, asks for. IK- re is
..nc way which she may like. Write your
prophecy as though seen by the Lady of
Shalot.t, and illustrate liy talileanx-vivants.
Tin- ]>rophet costumes herself like the Lady
of Shalott. She should wear a gauzy white
gown, and have a netting wound around
her, assimilating a spider's web. Her hail-
should flow loosely about the shoulders, and
she should be seated before a spinning-
wheel.
"And so she wi-.iveth steadily,
And littk- otlier care hath she."
Arrange the platform to represent a pret-
tily furnished room, and on the wall hang
conspicuously a large mirror.
"And moving thro' a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear."
The Lady of Shalott as she weaves recites
in slow, distinct tones the prophecy, and as
the destiny of each one is told, have the per-
son referred to pass across the stage before
tin- nniTor.aiid so on, out of sight. The per-
son will be costumed and will act exactly
as the prophecy foretells. The awesome ef-
fect will be heightened by an accompani-
ment, of slow music.
A VKIIY little girl asks what easy thing-
she may rind to do for her mother's birth-
clay. Make a set of table - mats, dear, of
coarse white cotton, crocheting them iu
simple close work, and finishing with a scal-
loped edge. I saw a very pretty set the
other day, and the lady who owned them
was proud that her youngest daughter, aged
eight, had made them herself.
What do you think of this as a hint for a
useful little gift? A Portia pen-wiper is
practical, unique, new, and easy of construc-
tion. Buy a china doll — one that stands
(irmly. Make for her several chamois-skin
skirts of different lengths, putting on the
shortest one first. Piuk the edges. The
costume should be a red or black student's
gown and cap, and put a tiny roll of parch-
ment in her hand. If yon have to lie tin-
roll in the hand, use line silk of the same
color as the parchment, and it will scarcely
show. The gown should be long and full.
Tlie material may be silk, velvet, or cash-
mere. The cap should have a square top,
fastened to a narrow band fitting close to
the head. The doll should have the appear-
ance of stateliness. Whenever the chamois
is soiled, replace the skirts, and thus the
pen-«ip«-r is always clean.
NIL Susie and Kowana. I do not care for
crystallized grasses. They are old-fashioned,
aiiil not iu the least pretty. Do not put any-
thing in your vases which simply gathers
dust, and is not a thing of beauty. A few
growing plants are a great attraction in the
house, and you can have geraniums ami
mignonette all winter if you will begin to
care for them now.
MARGARET E. SANGSTER.
Copyright, 1894, by Tbe Procter & Gamble Co., Cin'ti.
ELISABETH ROBINSON SCOVIL, Associ-
ate Editor of The Ladies Home Journal,
and a Hospital Superintendent of experi-
ence, in her hook, " The Care of Chil-
dren," recommends the use of Ivory Soap
for bathing infants, and says: " There is
no particular virtue in Castile Soap which
has long been consecrated to this purpose."
TT^VERY boy and girl interested in Inter-
scholastic Sport should own a copy of
"The Book of Athletics and other Out-of-
])ooi Sports." edited by Norman W.Bingham.
.Ir., manager of the Mo!t Haven Team. 1895.
Cnmuock of Harvard, Bliss of Vale.
JIapes of Columbia, Martin of Tufts, Dwight
the tennis expert, Cracknell the cricket
champion, Bloss the "broad jump" record
breaker, Hart the golf authority, Mayor
Bancroft, of Cambridge ; the "crew" trainer,
Sutphen, the ROUND TABLE authority mi
skating, and other college men and famous
amateurs contribute to the book.
One vol., cloth, 8vo, profusely illustrated,
si. ."id. For sale by all booksellers.
Send for the Lothrop Publishing Com-
pany's Illustrated Holiday Catalogue. It
has a splendid list of new books for boys
and girls. Mailed free to any address.
LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY,
92 Pearl Street, Boston.
GRATEFUL-COMFORTING.
EPPS'S COCOA.
BREAKFAST-SUPPER.
" By a thorough knowledge of the natural laws which
•roverii the operations of digestion and nutrition, and by
a careful application of the fine properties of well-selected
Cocoa Mr. Epps lias provided for our breakf.i-t ami
supper a delicately flavored beverage which may save us
many heavy doctors' bills. It is by the judicious use of
such articles of diet that a constitution may be gradually
built up until strong enough to resist every tendency to
disease Hundreds of subtle maladies are floating around
us ready to attack wherever there is a weak point. \Ve
mav escape many a fatal shaft by keeping ourselves
well fortified with pure blood and a properly nourished
triune."— Civil Strritf Gazette.
Made simply with boi'mg water or milk. Sold only
in half-pound tins, by drocers. labelled thus:
JAMES EPPS & CO.. Ltd.,
Homoeopathic Chemists. London, England.
104?
Boys,
Have we again to shout
"Rugby'Watches
are made purposely for you ? Is there one
of you who has not sent for the " Rugby "
Catalogue ?
Do you think we are going to buy
this paper to tell you the story ?
Not much. Fish a shekel out of
your pocket, buy a postal, and say :
" The Waterbury Watch Co., Water-
bury, Conn., send me a Rugby Catalogue."
Sign your name and address.
The Waterbury Watch Co.,
205 Waterbury, Conn.
BALTIMOREAN PRINTING-PRESS
Ims earned more money for bnys
than all other presses iu the mar-
ket. Boys, don't idle iiwny your
time when yon can. buy a selt-
iuking printing-press, type, and
complete outfit for $5.00. Write
for particulars, there is money
in it for von.
THE J.'F. \\\ DORMAX CO.,
Itulllmorc, M.I V.S.A.
CARD
hour YOU
pretty type.
and Tweeter,. - -.
Sample raailc'l FREE fur In
italosue of
makn money with it. A f.>nt
Indelible Ink. Type Holder. Pa
II. -t Linen Marker; worth JL
ps for posti e
Bargains.
i i outtiiann large eataiuavje oiiuuu carcain*
11.11. IIUTI -..II .1 Uro. 05 I „. iljinli SI Ji.Y. Cili
DEAF
NESS & HEAD NOISES CURED
by my INVISIBLE Tiii.ul.-ir Cushions, n«i e bulped
1'1- than all other de-
ld. Help ears as glasses
. ,
more to good IICAR1'1- than all other de-
vices eoriiMneil. Whispers nCMIld. Help ears as glasses
rlocyes. 1. III-.UX, 858 B'Jway.N.Y. Boon of proofs F R E E
^^ n C) ^f ^2 AXD"LIST OF 4011 PKEMIUU ARTICI.KS
XX ^^ •% U \^ IKEK. IIAVEI;FIELDPL'B. CO..L.I i
HARPER'S KIIODIULS.
I'er Year :
HARPER'S MAGAZINE .......... I'ostage F, -ee, )4 00
HARPER'S WEEKLY .........
HARPER'S BAZAR ..............
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE .....
Bankatllers and rMt^anin s .IM/,/
(tons SrOncriptiomifiit direct to the ]ni
be accompanied b» ro.-t-"fi:'f \l<m,-,, Ortirr or Uin.fi.
HAHPEU & BUOTHKUS. »TV York, >.Y.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
PRYING MARY.
BY KATHARINE PYLE.
On, curious, prying Mary,
Why was it you would try
To peep in every bundle,
lu every box to pry?
M:mima hart often warned ber,
But still she pried about,
And nothing could be hidden
But Mary found it out.
it chanced mamma from shopping
Brought in some things one day.
"Pray do not touch them, Mary," she said,
"While I'm away."
But scarce mamma had left her,
She scarce had closed the door,
Ere Mary stole on tiptoes
With haste across the floor.
She tears the paper open,
And stoops with eager eyes.
Puff ! In her mouth and up her iiose
The biting pepper flies.
"Hittchew! hatchew!" she snee/es;
The tears stream from her eyes.
"Who would have thought the bundle
Was pepper!" Mary cries.
"Hatchew! hatchew!" she sneezes,
The tears drip from her chin,
And while she still is sneezing
Mamma comes softly in.
She lifts her hands in wonder.
And Mary hears her cry,
"Some ill-luck always happens
To children who will pry."
NOT A WEATHER INDICATOR.
AN amusing story is told by a
sea-captain in relation to the igno-
rance of his steward, whom he had
directed to wind the chronometer
in the cabin every morning regu-
larly during his contemplated ab-
sence from the ship.
Now a chronometer is nothing
but a finely regulated timepiece
used by navigators. On its face
is a small circle having a hand,
and at two points on this circle arc
the words "Up" and "Wind."
When the instrument is wound the
little arrow-hand points to "Up,"
and after the chronometer has run
twenty-four hours the arrow stands
against "Wind," meaning that it
is time for it to he wound.
When the Captain returned to
his ship, the steward reported to
him that he had obeyed orders,
and wound the chronometer faith-
fully every day, and then added
that he, personally, did not think
much of its ability to foretell wea-
ther.
" What do you mean ?" asked the
puzzled Captain. '• What has a
chronometer got to do with the
weather ?"
"Why," replied the manipulator
of sailors' hash and plnm-dntt', '• ev-
ery morning the arrow would say
that we were going to have wind,
and half the time it was a flat
calm."
A TERRIBLE THREAT.
"I DON'T yike yon, Aunt Jen-
nie," said Wilbur, after his aunt
had interfered with some cherish-
ed idea he had in mind. "An' if
you don't let me alone I'll save up
my pottet-niouey an' buy a tapir."
" A what ?" asked his aunt.
"A tapir," said Wilbur. "An'
tapirs tlity cats ants !"
A PROMOTION.
" How are you getting on with vour music lessons, Har-
old T"
" Bin promoted."
" Indeed ?"
"Yeth; I play three-finger exercises now, 'stead o' two."
JUST THE OTHER WAY.
JIMMIEBOY has a very unbreak-
able habit of getting up at night
and running in to his father's room
into bed with him. He was once chided for
EXACTLY IT.
" WELL, Jack, I suppose you keep your desk in apple-pie
order."
"Yes. That's just about it: everything's all tumbled
up together inside of it just like the inside of a pie."
and juinpin
this.
" I'm glad to have you come in the morning, bnt don't
come too early," was the end of the lecture. The next
night, however, Jinimieboy came bouncing in at one o'clock.
"Didn't I tell you not to do this, Jimmieboy ?" he was
asked.
"No," replied Jimmieboy. "You told me not to come
early. This isn't early — it's awful late. After one o'clock."
" HOLLO, Fatty," said the Copy-book to the Dictionary.
" Hullo, Thinny'!" retorted the Dictionary.
" You're a wordy person, Fatty," said the Copy-book.
" You're an empty thing, Thinny," said the Dictionary.
"Bound to have the last word, eh, Fatty !" sneered the
Copy-book.
"Need it in my business, Thinuy," said the Dictionary,
and the Umbrella in the library corner laughed so hard
that it bent one of its ribs.
A MISTAKE.
"IT'S a great mistake," said Bobbie Tompkins, "to say
that we Americans are horn free."
"Why, Bobbie?"
"Look at that baby of ours. Was he horn free ? I guess
not. He ain't allowed to do nothin' he wants ter."
"THAT was a great name of hall the Nomeals and Hun-
gerfoods played the other day."
" Was it ? What was the score ?"
"Nothing to eight."
1048
HARPERS
ROUND TABLE
HI1!
Copyright, 1895, by HAEPEB & BEOTHBBS. All Rights Reserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY.
VOL. XVI.— NO. 834.
NEW YORK, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 22, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
SEA RANGERS.
BY KIRK M U N R O E,
AUTHOR OF " ROAD RANGERS," THE "MATE" SERIES, "SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES," "FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH," ETC.
CHAPTER VII.
LEFT ON A DESOLATE ISLAND.
THE damage to the Milltjirl was of so serious a nature
that Captain Crotty instantly realized the necessity
for prompt action if he wished to save his vessel. So,
while shouting to the Rangers to get their bedding, provis-
ions, and everything else movable np from the hold, and so
place them beyond reach of the in-rushing waters, he headed
the sloop for the nearest beach. As she grounded in about
eight feet of water, and while still at some distance from
the shore, her sails were lowered, and preparations were,
made for transferring the passengers and their belongings
to laud. Of course this disaster put a sudden end to the
canoe-race that had caused it, and as the sloop's headway
was checked, the entire fleet of dainty craft Hocked about
her. The canoe-boys were, loud in their expressions of
sorrow over the sad plight of the vessel, and profuse in
their ofl'ers of such assistance as they could render.
The very first to make his canoe fast and scramble aboard
was Tom Burgess, whose appearance was received with a,
shout by his fellow Rangers. But they were too busy res-
cuing their belongings from the impending water for any
more extended greeting just then. Besides, they were loo
greatly excited in tryiug to realize the astounding fart
that they were actually shipwrecked, a situation they had
never dared hope for even in their wildest dreams of what
might happen during this cruise. So Tom and his canoe
friends turned in and worked with the others, while all
introductions and explanations were left for some future
time.
Young Jabe made trip after trip in the small boat be-
tween sloop and shore, carrying a big load every time, and
in this work he was assisted by such of the canoes as had
cockpits of any size. Thus provisions, bedding, a huge
tarpaulin, several casks of fresh water, pots, pans, and :i
certain amount of table-ware were soon coin eyed to the
beach, and there piled in a promiscuous heap. Last of all,
the shipwrecked Rangers, to whom the whole affair \\as a
delightful novelty, were transferred to the island. There,
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
mi longer restrained by a polite sympathy for Captain
Crotty, they gave vent to Hie ir 1'rplings in a series of whoops
and howls, combined with antics that would have done
credit to a band of young monkexs.
""Whoop-pen!" shouted Si Caicw. "Here \ve are ship-
wrecked, and cast away on a desolate island. It's the real
thing too, and not a bit. of make-believe about it."
"Just like llnliiHsiiu Crnxni- or .Siri.s.s Family Unbiiimiii,"
chimed in little Cal Moody, joyously kicking np i!ie warm
sand with his bare feet; 'only I hope there won't be an\
savages or pirai.es."
".More like the mutineer?- of the .Bottnii/," suggested llai
Baeou, " for -,ve did really mutiny, you know, and came out
a head, too."
"You did!" exclaimed Tom Burgess, in o-;.eu-eyed amaze-
ment. " How did it happen 1 Tell us about it.
So the story of the cruise and its double mutiny bad to
be told then and there to Tom and the other canoe-boys,
\\ho listened with envious interest.
"Well!" declared Tom, when from the confused recital
of half a dozen Rangers at once he had gleaned the main
points of the story. "It beats anything I ever heard of
outside of a book, and I only wish I'd waited in Berks so as
to come with you. But look here! Yon fellows haven't
been over to our camp yet. So come on, and see what you
think of the New York style of doing things.''
Tbe Rangers, only too ready to see or do anything new.
sprang up. and would have followed him in a body, had
they not been restrained by practical Will Rogers, who
called out :
"Hold on, fellows! We've got our own camp to tix first-
It's most sundown now, and it wouldn't be much fun work-
ing m the dark. Besides, we've; got supper to think of."
••I'm thinking of it, now," laughed Mif Bowers, " and
wouderiug what we are going to do about it."
"Oh, that '11 be all right, "said Tom Burgess, hospitably.
"You'll all come over and eat supper with us to-night, and
we'll help you rig up your tent. Just wait till 1 run over
and tell the cook."
The canoe-boys, who knew nothing of the Rangers' pre-
vious training as firemen and other things, under Will
Rogers's leadership, were surprised to see the businesslike,
manner with which these country lads set to work to make
themselves comfortable. While some cut tent-poles or gath-
ered firewood, others overhauled the big tarpaulin that was
to form their tent, and provided it with stout cords at cor-
ners and sides When it was finally raised and stretched
into position, it formed a serviceable and roomy shelter,
which, though lacking the whiteness of the New York
tents, was decidedly more picturesque and in keeping with
the Rangers' present character of shipwrecked mariners.
Beneath its dingy spread all the provisions and camp
equipments were neatly piled on one side, while the blan-
kets, spread on the ground above some bits of old canvas,
were so arranged on the other as to make one long bed.
All this was hardly completed when the. loud banging of
:in iron spoon against a tin pan sounded a welcome supper
cail from the other eanip, while at the same moment Tom
Burgess appeared to act, as host and escort.
The canoe-boys had brought along a regular cook, and
their camp consisted of a kitchen tent, a mess tent, and a
big living or sleeping tent, in which, however, very few of
them ever slept. It was lots more fun to lie in their canoes
under the little striped canoe tents hung from the masts,
and making enclosures so charmingly sung, that the Berks
boys declared them even superior to the bicycle shelter
tnits that, had so excited their admiration when they were
Road Rangers.
As the sloop's galley was flooded with water. Captain
Croltv and young .lube had also accepted a supper invita-
tion from the hospitable New- Yorkers, and while they ate.
the skipper outlined bis plans for the future. As the tide,
had already turned ebb when the wreck occurred, he had
at once carried an anchor out on Ihe side opposite to that,
through which the water was pouring. From this anchor
a cable was extended to the' sloop's mast-head, and thence
led down to the deck. Here it was subjected to a heavy
Strain, that, as the tide fell, would careen the vessel to that
side. By this means the skipper hoped to get at the hole
on the opposite side and plug it. As he could only expect
to do this in the crudest manner with the appliances at
hand, and as he knew the leak would merely be checked
without being stopped, he further proposed to leave his
passengers where they were for a few days, sail for the
nearest port. \\ here be could haul out for repairs, and return
for them as ipiiekly as possible, which proposition was
hailed with delight by both the Rangers and then newly
made friends.
This programme was carried out as arranged. That
very evening the stranded vessel was careened by the aid
of many willing hands, so that a temporary patch of tarred
canvas and boards could be rudely secured over the jagged
fracture that appeared in her planking just under the
bend of the bilge. It was midnight before this job was
finished, and the hold was pumped comparatively free of
water. At. daylight next morning, as the tide served and
the wind was fair, the Milli/irl, after being revictualled
from the tent, sailed away with Captain Crotty at the
helm, anci ycrng Jabe working wearily at the pump.
Work as he alight he could not gain an inch on the leak,
and, in spite of the skipper's cheery assurance that he
\\ ould be back again within three or four days. Will Rogers,
who of all the tired Rangers was sole spectator of the de-
parture, could not repress a feeling of anxiety as the sloop
slowly rounded the point and disappeared.
He was aroused from the reverie into which he had fallen
by loud shouts from the canoe camp, and looking that way
saw a line of naked figures tearing down tlie beach and
dashing into the sparkling waters. The. New-Yorkers were
taking the morning plunge, without, which no yachtsman
nor canoe-man, who is after all only a yachtsman in a small
way, fails to begin the day when be is on a cruise. This
sight at once altered the current of Will's thoughts, ami
with a yell that effectually startled his own camp into wake-
fulness he tore off his clothing and took a splended header
from a jutting rock. Two minutes later every Ranger had
followed him, and with the gambols of a school of yon ng
porpoises the buys from Berks were revelling in their first,
salt- wa ter swim.
"Isn't, it. glorious!" sputtered Si Carew, as th • dripping-
lads finally emerge. 1 from their bath. "It beats rive;- swim-
ming all to nothing."
"Yes, and doesn't it make a fellow feel fresh and salty ['"
cried Cracker Bob Jones.
"And shivery," chattered little C'al Moody.
"And hungry." added Mif Bowers. " What are we going
to do for breakfast. Will !''
Sure enough ! N'o one had thought of that, and the Rang-
ers had not even started a fire, while in the other camp the
cook was already beating lustily on his big tin pan.
In this emergency the canoe-boys again extended the
hospitality of their mess. Moreover, they offered to do this
so long as tbev remained on the island if the Rangers would
furnish the provisions, as their own were nearly exhausted.
Of course the Berks boys readily entered into this ar-
rangement, though Will Rogers remarked to Hal Bacon
that he wished they had brought along a larger supply of
provisions, and wondered how the New York boys had ex-
pected to hold out for ten days longeron the scanty allow-
ance of food remaining in their mess-tent.
" They didn't," answered Lieutenant Hal. " They've only
got to live on 'em for two days more. This is Thursday,
and they are going back on Saturday, you know."
" What !" exclaimed Will.
" Yes, didn't von know? Cousin Tom asked me last night
why we didn't come sooner, and then 1 found out that we
had made a mistake in the date, and got here during the
second week of their camp instead of the first. It '11 be all
right, though. I'm Captain Clotty is sure to be back in a
lew days. In fad, I think it's a lucky thing he had to
lea \ e, for he'd been certain to want us to go back when the
other fellows broke cam p, w hi le now. perhaps, w e can stay
a whole week longer."
" Yes," replied Will, dubiously " I suppose it's all right;
at the same time 1 shall be mighty glad to see him coming
back "
1050
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
CMIAl'TK I! VIII.
WAK CANOKS, ClilTISKRS, AND RACKliS.
NEVER in tbeir lives had tlie Sea Rangers enjoyed Iliem-
selves more than they did during the two days following
that of their shipwreck. They swum, anil fished, and pad-
dled, anil watched the most exciting of match races be-
r\\,'i'ii rival canoes, aud at night gathered about the roar-
in^ camp-tires for songs, stories, and high jinks, until it
seemed to them that no other form of life was half so well
worth living as this. They looked back with disdain upon
the i|iiiet humdrum of Berks, with its houses and beds and
school and chores, and regular hours for meals, and all such
things. Even their lire-engine and their bicycles no longer
seemed to possess the attractions that had once caused
them to appear so desirable, and when Sam Ray hoped Cap-
tain Crotty would not be able to come for them in less than
a mouth, lie voiced the sentiment of every Ranger on the
island.
Their sole present ambition was to become canoe-men,
and all their interest was centred in the fascinating craft
'>!' I heir New York friends. At the same time they found it
impossible to decide which of the several types of canoe
represented at the meet was the most admirable. There
was the big war canoe Koslt-Kosh, that, required a dozen
paddlers to urge it over the water, and could carry as many
more passengers as well. As they dashed about the bay in
this great craft, chanting what they believed to be war-
songs, and uttering blood-curdling yells, they could easily
fancy themselves South-Sea warriors bound ou a foray,
against the cannibals of some adjacent island.
Besides this huge vessel there were other paddling canoes,
light open affairs in each of which two boys, transformed
for the time being into Indian hunters, could glide swiftly
ami silently in and out of sheltered coves, or close under
overhanging banks, in search of game or scalps, they cared
not which.
Then there were sailing canoes of two kinds — cruisers
and racers — dainty bits of cabinet-work built of cedar and
mahogany, Tarnished and polished until they glistened in
the sun light, lifted with spars not much heavier than fish ing-
rods. silken or linen sails, delicate-looking but unbreakable,
cordage, and cunning little blocks of boxwood or aluminum
that would answer equally well for watch-charms. The,
cruisers had open cockpits long enough to lie down in at
full length. At night these, covered by tents of striped awu-
ing cloth, and lighted by little swinging lanterns, formed
the coziest of cabins. Thus housed, the cruising canoe-man
could cook a meal over an alcohol lamp, eat it from a hatch-
cover table, lie at his ease, and read, or turn in and sleep
through rain aud storm as snug aud dry and thoroughly
comfortable as though in his own home. "Besides having
a thousand times more fun," as Tom Burgess said, while all
the Rangers well agreed that he spoke the truth.
Tom owned a cruiser, and to him, of course, she was the
most perfect craft in the world. "She can go anywhere
that a yacht can, except, of course, across the ocean, or on
vo\ages like that," he explained, "and into lots of places
that a yacht can't, besides, such as up small streams and
down rapids. You can either sail or paddle in her, and if
a storm comes, all you have to do is to run your ship ashore,
step out, haul her beyond reach of the tide, and there you
are. just as comfortable and well fixed as if you owned the
l>iiv_;est hotel in New York city."
At tractive as they found the cruisers, some of the Rang-
ers t bought the racers even more so. They too were decked
over, but their cockpits were only little wells- just big
enough for one's feet. All else was water-tight compart-
ment, so that, even if the canoe were rolled over and over
in the water, she could not till or sink, but would float
on the surface like a bubble. The sails of a racer were
t\\ ire as large' as those of a cruiser, and to keep her right
side up under her great spread of silk or linen the crew
would " hike" himself out ou the end of a- long sliding
deck-seat, and there, poised in mid-air, would skim above
tin1 crests of the waves with the speed and safety of a sea-
bird. The' racer's sails cannot be lowered, and are never
reefed; but if the squall blows so heavy that the, outboard
weight of the crew can no longer hold the canoe up to it,
he allows her to uracefiilly capsize, and the outspread sails
lie flat on the water, while he clings to the air-tight hull, or
stands on the brass centre-plate until the blow moderates.
Then, using his sliding-seat as a lever, he pulls his craft
once more into an upright position, scrambles aboard, and
speeds away as though nothing had happened. This sort
of work is like circus-riding, and only through much prac-
tice may one attain perfection at it ; lint as the Sea Rangers
watched the movements of the swift-darting racers, it
seemed to them not only the most fascinating sport in the-
world, but also the perfection of sailing.
They were even ready to admit that all their previous
knowledge of seamanship and sailing was but ignorance
when compared with that they were now acquiring.
As Cracker Bob Jones said : " What chumps we were to
think we knew how to handle a boat before we came here.
Now, though, we have got the whole thing down so fine
that if ever we get a chance to sail all by ourselves, I
rather guess somebody '11 be surprised."
lu spite of this self-confidence, all that Cracker Bob or
any others of the Rangers really knew of canoe-sailing was
what they learned by looking ou ; for while the canoe-men
were perfectly willing to take them out paddling, not one
of them cared to trust his fragile craft to inexperienced
hands when under sail.
If the Sea Rangers were pleased with the New York boys
and their belongings, the latter were no less so with the
lads from Berks, and when, on the last evening of the meet,
the, latter enlivened the camp-fire gathering with several
scenes from Blue Billows they fairly "brought down the
house."
In one way it is sad that all such good times must come
to an end, though if they did not they would soon cease to
be good times, and we should long for anything in the way
of a change. The Rangers had not wearied of tbrs good
time, though, by Saturday morning, and when the steamer
appeared that was to take the canoe-boys back to the big
city they openly rejoiced that their own hour for departure
had not yet arrived. In vain did Tom Burgess and his com-
rades urge them to take advantage of this opportunity for
leaving the island, aud so return to Berks by way of New
York. They declared that they were bound to await Cap-
tain Crotty's return in the very place where he had left
them, and found a dozen other reasons for declining the in-
vitation. So the canoe -men reluctantly boarded their
steamer, aud with much cheering and blowing of the steam-
whistle, and dipping of flags, and waving of hats, sailed
away, leaving the island to the undisturbed possession of
our young Sea Rangers.
No sooner, however, was the steamer lost to view and the
boys from Berks realized that their sole means of com-
munication with the world was thus cut off, than they be-
gan to experience a complete change of feeling. Will
Rogers was struggling bravely against it as he shouted :
" Hurrah, fellows! Now we are really aud truly cast
away on a desolate island, and thrown on our own re-
sources. Isn't it fun, though ! aud aren't we in great luck ?"
" Yes, I suppose so," admitted one or two of the others,
hesitatingly; but Cal Moody spoke right, out, and said he
thought it was awful, and lie wished Captain Crotty would
come, or that they were safe at home in Berks, or any-
where except on that horrid island. The little chap was
about ready to cry ; but was prevented by Will Rogers,
who, realizing the effect of such despondency on the ot hers,
sang out:
" Oh, cheer up, Cal ! What's the matter with you ? The
skipper's sure to be here in a day or two, and is probably
on his way to us at this very minute. And we've got lots
to do before be comes, I can tell you. We must hoist a sig-
nal of distress on the very highest place we can find, and
explore the island so as to discover its resources, and fortify
our camp against — well, against anything, you know, and
all sorts of things. llesides, we've got to cook dinner, and
I think we'd better start in on that the very first thing."
With their gloom a little brightened by the prospect of
immediate action, the Rangers set to work to prepare the
first meal that they had ever nnderiakcn all by themselves.
1051
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
They were somewhat dismayed to discover what, serious
inroads had been made in their stock of provisions; for
only a portion of what was originally placed ou board (be
sloop had been rescued from the inflowing water when she,
was wrecked, and in anticipation of her speedy return this
had been used with the utmost freedom, not to say reck-
lessness. But this was a trifling cause for anxiety when
compared with the startling announcement that the con-
tents of their largest water-barrel had leaked away until
it was empty. Only one small cask of water remained to
them; and, upon learniug this, every Ranger immediately
imagined that he was suffering from a, burning thirst.
About cooking they really knew very little, though each
member thought he knew enough to prepare a pretty fair
meal for people, who were not particular. So they all tried
their hands at getting up that dinner, and a sadder culinary
failure was never made. Everything was smoked, burned,
underdone, or in some other way made uneatable, and they
finally partook of a most unsatisfactory meal of dry crackers
and smoked herring, which made them so very thirsty that
but for the firmness of their young captaiu they would
have drained the small cask then and there.
The cooking of succeeding meals was equally unsatis-
factory, and by nightfall of the second day after the de-
parture of their friends our Rangers had not only expended
most of their provisions aud drunk up all their water, but
were thoroughly alarmed at their situation. The whole
of that day had been spent ou the highest point of the isl-
and, gazing with strained eyes over the surrounding waters
in the hope of sighting some approaching sail. With the
coming of darkness they sadly returned to camp, and fling-
ing themselves gloomily down on their blankets, sought
forgetfnluess of their unhappy situation in troubled sleep.
Some hours later Will Rogers was awakened by little
Cal Moody, who said, iu a terrified whisper: "Oh, Will,
there are pirates on the island, and they are swearing
dreadfully, and I know we're all going to be murdered.
I've been listening aud watching them for a long time.
See their lights down there ?"
Sure enough, Will could see lights, like moving lan-
terns, down on the beach aud out on the water, where they
seemed to be passing to aud fro betweeu the land and
a vessel that was dimly visible in the little harbor. He
could also hear loud rough voices, and, as Cal had said,
some of them were swearing.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE BUILDING OF MODERN WONDERS.
AN ELECTRIC TKOLLEY-CAK.
BY HERBERT LAWS WEIiH.
ONE day, not very long ago, when electric cars were
something of a novelty, a city official was talking
about them to one of the electrical engineers in charge of
a certain electric railway.
"It seems to me," said he, "that those trolley-poles ou
top of the cars ought to be very much stronger than they
are."
" Why so ?" asked the electrical man. " We very seldom
have any accident with them. They almost never break."
"Don't they?" queried the other, with some astonish-
ment. "Well, they don't look to me half strong enough
to push those heavy cars along."
I suppose very few readers of the ROUND TABLE have
such very foggy ideas about electric cars as that man had.
But still it is something of a mystery to many people how
the slender wire stretched along the street takes the place
of the hundreds of tuggiug horses or of the rattling,
whirring cable that glides ceaselessly through the long
iron trough under the pavement.
Many years ago one of those famous scientific men wno
were always making experiments to discover new things
about, electricity, so as to enable practical raeu in these
days to invent machines to do useful work, discovered that
when he moved a wire about in front of a magnet an elec-
tric current appeared in the wire. This was a great dis-
covery, because it brought to light the wonderful sympathy
between magnetism aud electricity. It made no difference
whether the wire or the magnet were moved; as long as
they were close enough together any movement of either
caused a current to appear in the wire.
Then another famous discoverer found that by winding
a wire round a bar of iron and sending a current of elec-
tricity through the wire he turned the bar of iron iuto a
magnet. As long as tlio current was passing through tha
wire the iron har acted just like a permanent steel magnet ;
it would attract, pieces of iron and hold up nails, but the
moment the current was stopped the bar lost its magnetism,
the nails or pieces of iron dropped off, and it became just, an
ordinary bar of irou again. This invention is called the
electro -magnet, aud the electro -magnet is used iu some
form or other in every electrical industry.
The electric dynamo owes its being to those two dis-
coveries. It consists of coils of copper wire wound on a
shaft, and that shaft is revolved close to a powerful magnet.
The influence of the magnet causes electric currents to be
produced in the coils of copper wire, and these currents are
delivered by the coils into suitable conductors or wires by
means of v. bich the currents are led to the place where
they have to do their work. One very interesting thing
about the modern dynamo machine is that, it is what elec-
trical men call " self-exciting."' That does not mean that
it gets into a state of excitement about itself. It means
that the dynamo provides its own magnetism. At first
dynamos were made with great big steel magnets, but
those were very expensive aud unsatisfactory. Then a
clever inventor hit upon the plan of using electro-magnets,
and sending part of the current of the dynamo through
th'sir coils to give them magnetism. This is the action of
the self-exciting dynamo. When the collection of coils
wound ou the revolving shaft, first begins to turn, very little
current is produced, because there is very little magnetism
iu the iron magnets. Part of this current goes through the
magnet coils and increases the magnetism ; this strengthens
the current in the coils, and this process goes on until, after
a few minutes, the magnets are fully magnetized and the
coils are giving their full strength of current.
Trofley ,
7 V > ' i E .
Diagram showing the electric circuit through each car, and illustrating the method of sending more than one car along the same wire.
1052
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
Some time aft-
er this was discov-
ered, it became
known tbat if the
two wires from a
dynamo were join-
ed to a st-roiid dyn-
amo instead of to
an electric lamp,
this second dyna-
mo would revolve,
and could be used
to drive a ma-
chine, such as a
sewing - machine
or a prill ting-press.
At first this
electric motor, as
it was called, was
used only for
turning wheels
that were station-
ary, but it was
soon seen that
there was good
work for it to do
in turning wheels
that should travel
along over the
ground. Then be-
gan the electric
railway.
Having got your
electric motor it
would seem a com-
paratively easy
job to mount it on
a car, to fix up a
moving connection with an electric wire, and to make the
motor turn the car-wheels. It looks easy enough to-day in
places where hundreds of horseless cars are running about
in all directions as if by magic. In the beginning it was no
such an easy job, and those who led the way in the building
and running of electric cars had many difficulties to con-
tend with and many obstacles to overcome before they
made the electric street-car the practical every-day aft'air
that it is now.
Just, look first at your electric motor. It is, like all elec-
trical instruments and machines, a pretty delicate affair,
very likely to suft'er serious injury from hard usage or ex-
posure to bad weather.
To place such a machine underneath a jolting car close
to the surface of the street, and make it work properly at
all times and in all weathers, is no small feat. One great
difficulty was to keep the wire coils of the motor properly
insulated. If two neighboring coils get connected with
each other the motor goes wrong, and as water is a power-
ful conductor of electricity such accidents often happened
at first through parts of the motor getting wet from splash-
ings from the street. Now motors are made water-proof,
and the cars go along merrily, even though there may be
an inch or two of water in the streets, or several inches of
snow or slush.
The motor is attached to the frame of the car-truck, and
the power is transmitted to the axle of the ear by means
of gearing. In some electric locomotives that have been
made, the armature of the motor is wound on the axle it-
self, but for ordinary street cars it is found best to keep
the motor separate from the axle, and to transmit the
power by geared wheels.
The current reaches the motor under the car by means
of the trolley-wheel and pole. The trolley-wheel is a solid
copper wheel, deeply grooved, which is pressed upward
against the bare copper wire stretched over the middle of
the track ; the long flexible pole, which carries the trolley-
wheel has a strong spring which tends to press it forward,
and so keeps the wheel always firmly pressed against the
wire however much the car may jump about in rough
THE TROLLEY-CAR.
places. An insulated wire connected with the trolley-
wheel is led down the pole and through the car to the
switches and regulating boxes placed at either end of the
car, just against the dash-board. No current can reach
the motor without passing through the switch and regu-
ulating box under control of the motorman. With the
switch the motormau ean turn the current on or otf com-
pletely, he can regulate the amount of current that reaches
the motor so as to start gradually or go slowly in crowded
places, or fast in quiet ones, and he can even reverse the
motor and make the car go backwards, a thing that neither
the driver of the horse-car nor the gripman of the cable-car
can do.
Perhaps it is not quite clear how so many motors can
work from a single line. As a rule electric railways are
provided with but a single wire from which the motors
obtain their supply of current, and this system has come
to be called the single trolley system in distinction to the
double trolley, or double wire system, which was tried in
the early days but has been abandoned in all but one or
two places. The single wire hung over the centre of the
track carries the current out from the station where the
dynamos are placed, and the rails and the earth carry it
back to the dynamos after it has passed through the mo-
tors and has done its work. The trolley wire is kept con-
stantly charged with electricity, which the dynamos at the
power station pump into it, much as if they were puuipiug-
engines forcing water into a long pipe. If any connection
is made, by means of an electrical conductor, between the
trolley-wire and the ground, the current will flow down
into the ground. The only connections made with it are
those made by the cars, and then the current has to pass
through the motors and turn the wheels.
The trolley-wire has to be carefully put up so as to be
just the right height, and exactly in the middle of the
track. It must be properly insulated so as to prevent the
escape of the current down the poles or along the suspen-
sion wires, so at every point where it is attached to a pole
or a suspension wire it is hung from an insulator of some
material that will not conduct electricity. Every here
1053
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
and there you will notice that heavy electric wires or
cables are connected with the trolley-wires. These wires
are called " feeders" ; they are ruu out from the dynamos at
the power-house, and connect on to the trolley-wire to force
fresh supplies of current into it. When an electric cnrreut
tiavels along a wire it loses a certain amount of power by
reason of the resistance or electrical friction of the wire
itself, so in order to keep the supply of current up to the
proper pitch required for working the motors at all points
of the line, these "feeders" are run out from the power-
house, and they literally feed the trolley- wire with the
rnnvnt that the cars are always demanding from it.
It is often said in the newspapers that the trolley-wire
is very dangerous to human life. This is uot really so.
Nobody has ever been killed by a shock from a trolley-wire.
The current used for electric rail ways, although great power
is conveyed by it, has not the property of giving a fatal
shock to the human system. There are just as great ditfer-
e i ires between the electric currents used for different pur-
poses as there are between streams of water. Some streams
have, great volume, but very slow flow, others fly out of a
half- inch nozzle with sufficient velocity to drill a hole
through a man's body as cleanly as a rifle bullet. It is the
same with an electric current. You may have a current
capable of fusing bars of iron, yet you could not feel it pass
through your body, and another kind of current that can
be carried by a fine wire will give a shock strong enough
to kill. Therefore, believe me, there is a great deal of non-
sense written in the newspapers about the '• deadly trolley."
Where the " deadlines:! " of the trolley certainly conies in
is in the extreme handiiiess of the cars. The horse-car
driver has hard work to get much speed out of his team ;
the gripman of the cable -car can go no faster than the
cable will drag him ; but the motormau of the trolley-car
can with a twirl of his wrist send his heavy car bounding
on like a thing of life. The temptation to "speed up"
when it is so easily done is too much for human nature.
This accounts for the many accidents that occur, though it
is only fair to say that the fault is partly with the mothers
who allow their little ones to play in streets where there
are car tracks, for the victims of the trolley-cars seem to be
nearly always young children.
A PARTNERSHIP ARRANGEMENT.
BY WALTER CLARKE NICHOLS.
A PARTNERSHIP once, as some historians state,
Was formed on the banks of the slow-flowing Nile
By a young Cheshire cat, an elephant straight
From the jungle, and, thirdly, an old crocodile.
"For surely," the elephant plausibly said,
" We can all of us turn in the forth-coming years,
When sad, to the crocodile, whom we've been led
To believe an exceptional expert in tears."
"Quite right," quoth the latter. "Wo cannot begin
Too early, and when we need mutual mirth
We can look to our pussie, whose broad Cheshire grin
Excels in duration all others on earth.''
"And then, when we're travelling," chimed in the cat,
Who had been for some moments in solemn thought
sunk,
"' \Ve can carry conveniently coat, shoes, and hat.
Since we'll always have with us the elephant's trunk."
MANY boys and girls have seen the famous actor Joe
Jefferson in his great play Hip I'nii 11'iitkle, that delight fill
story of the Catskill fairies, and in it that weird scene
where he partakes of the spirits that the elves give him,
making him sleep for twenty years. Well, there is a good
.story told about Jefferson in that part icular scene. Once
being near some good fishing- grounds, he spent the day
drawing in the gamy trout, and was thoroughly tired
when the curtain rolled up for the evening performance.
Things moved smoothly enough until he is supposed to fall
asleep. Now that sleep in fiction lasts twenty years, but
on the stage abmit two minutes. This time, how ever, the
two minutes were lengthened out into ten, much to the
amusement of the audience and provocation of the stage-
manager. Jefferson had really fallen asleep, and his snores.
it is said. \\e,e quite audible beyond the footlight. Sev-
eral remarks were fired at him by the audience, and, final-
ly, the stage-manager had to go beneath the stage and open
a trap near where Jefferson was lying to try and wake him
up.
He called and called, but it was 110 use, and in despera-
tion he succeeded in jabbing a pin into him, which made
Jefferson jump up with a sharp cry. and quickly realize
where he was.
"A PIECE OF WORK."
BY JAMES BARNES.
npHE train-despatcher's window at the Jimtown crossing
JL commanded a good view of the yards. It was a \\et
night, with a penetrating drizzle so fine that it almost led
one to believe that the earth was steaming from the hear
of the forenoon. The ray of light that shot over the train-
despatcher's shoulder as he looked out into the darkness
showed, however, that it was rain drifting downwards in
the minutest drops.
It was almost time for the night despatcher, Rollins, to
put in an appearance, and Mr. Mingle looked at his watch
and drummed with his fingers on the pane of glass.
The light of the switchmen's -lanterns occasionally
gleamed from the shining slippery rails. A noisy little
engine that had been drilling freight cars about the yard
stopped on the siding just beneath the window, and com-
menced to roar angrily with a burst of feathery vapor.
The despatcher watched the fireman open the door of the
furnace and stand for an instant silhouetted against the
red glare that was reflected by the dampness all around.
Suddenly as he, glanced up he*saw a man on the top of a
freight car across the yards swing his lantern about his
head and make a jump clear to the ground into a pile of
cinders.
" That was a foolish thing to do," said Mr. Mingle to
himself. "He might have broken his legs; then he'd have
sued the company."
The man was uot injured, however, for he skipped across
the tracks and approached the tower-house on a ruu. He
stopped and shouted to the fireman of the engine that was
raising such a row beneath the window. The glow from
the rosy coals made everything quite plain.
Never in his life had Mr. Mingle seen a face wear such
a look as that.
The tiremau closed the furnace door with a slam, and
the engineer, who had been out on the foot-board, hurried
back at a gesture. Two words, and he dropped the bundle
of waste in his hand and pulled wide the throttle. At, the
same time the engine shrieked for open switches. What
could it mean f As the despatcher turned to the door of
the staircase he ran into the man whose face he had seen
in the glare from the lire-box. It was the assistant yard-
master.
"Lord, Mr. Mingle!" he exclaimed, "is No. 44 on time?
Hurry and find' out! Has she passed the junction yet?"
The despatcher irr one stride stepped to the instrument
on the desk. With his fingers on the key -board, he
paused. " Tell me quickly," he said.' " what has happened.
Talk, man!"
"The ore train ["exclaimed the yard-master, sinking back
into the worn arm-chair and dropping his hands helplessly
to either side of him. " Some one left the switch open, ai'd
the brakes slipped or something. She pulled out by her-
self down the grade on the main track. I saw her going
from the top of the freight. How she started, Lord knows.
She slipped out like a ghost, sir."
Mr. Mingle had caught only the first few words. His
nervous hand was jumping as he sounded the call for the
operator at Selina Junction, twenty-five miles down the
road. At last he stopped, and suddenly switched off for
the return.
1054
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
'•Tick! Tick! Tiek-a-tick !" the auswer came; the
yard-master watched the drspatcher's face as a condemned
man might look at the face of a judge — and Mr. Mingle
had grown paler.
"Forty-four has just passed the junction," he said, in a
high strained voice. Then liis teeth chattered as if he
had felt a blast of icy wind. Then- was nothing to do.
Fifteen of that twenty-five, miles was all down grade on
a single track — a bad grade that necessitated an extra
engine to help its brother puff and tug the heavy trains
up out of the valley. Between Jimtowii and the junction
there was no station, and only one siding that ran out to
tin- Fetterolf quarries, ten miles below.
"The switch engine has gone after her," said the yard-
master. "If she can catch up before they reach the strep
grade near the pine woods they may be able to make a
flying couple."
•• Slic will never catch them now," said Mr. Mingle.
"Heaven help all in 44!" A great sob like a shiver shook
him. "Quick, hurry, Tomes V he said, shaking the yard-
master violently. "Make up a wrecking train, and send one
of the boys to gather all the doctors. There are three of
them up near the hotel. I'll telegraph headquarters. They
will be safe for twenty minutes yet. Hurry, man. Don't sit
there like a fool !"
The yard-master slipped his hat on his head and plunged
down the steep stairway.
The despateher rubbed his forehead.
It was a hard thing to do! Sixty miles away they would
know of the accident before it occurred, simply by his
touching the little instrument that his trembling hand
reached forward for. How could he begin the message ?
The idea of that load of ore gathering frightful headway
every minute, whirling along through the darkness toward
that slowly approaching train, made him sick and faint.
There was going to be a wreck, and nothing in the whole
world could stop it. In his mind's eye he could see the
crash. He could see what that fireman and engineer of
44 would see through the rain - drops in the glare from
the head -light,. Old Jack Lane, he knew him well. It
would be Jack's last trip. There would not be time to
think ; no time to press the throttle. It would be ou them
all at once.
The despateher called up headquarters. Would they
never auswer? It seemed already half an hour since the
yard-master had left, him.
Somebody thumped up the stairway.
" Hello, Mixer!" said a cheerful voice. "Fine night for
ducks, eh f" The speaker, a young man with a slight athletic
frame, dashed his hat on the table. •' What's up, cully ?" he
asked; as Mr. Mingle turned from the instrument, and the
other caught, a glimpse of his scared while fare.
Mr. Mingle's voice was hoarse, as if he had been shouting,
but lie spoke slowly and distinctly. The young man he had
been addressing had thrown off his rubber coat. The tails
had been pinned up. and his back was covered with a streak
of mud. When the despateher had finished, his companion
reached the head of the stairs in a jump.
" I'll try for it!" he said. "There's just one chance. I'll
try to make the quarries!"
Despite the fact that headquarters was now calling
back, Mingle ran to the door. He was just in time to see
the night despateher lifting something down the steps out-
side.
"Try for it, Rollie!" he shouted, and ran out into the
rain. As he stood there he caught a glimpse of a figure
fast leaving the yards. It was a man hent low over the
handle-bars of a bicycle, his feet rising and falling with
the quickness and ease of the trained racer. Mingle caught
a flash of the steel spokes as the night despateher turned
the corner under the lamp-post, into the road. Then he
pulled himself up the stairs as if his feet were made of
lead, and telegraphed the message to headquarters as slow-
ly as if he had been a beginner, and not one of the best
operators on the line.
The road that led outside of Jiintown stretched along
through a bit of woods, and then plunged down the side
of the mountain so steeply that, loaded teams would halt
every hundred feet or so to rest in the ascent.
A year before Rollins had < sted down Coon Hill, on a
wager, but that was in broad daylight, w ith his club-mates
Stationed at every curve, and the roadway was cleared for
him as far as the sandy stretch before the railroad crossing.
Kvery stone hail been picked out, and the water - bars
evened up at the left-hand side. At one place, he remem-
bered, his speed had been reckoned, in a measured one hun-
dred yards, at forty miles an hour.
The railroad, to avoid the grade, followed the course of
the Coponic, and circled about to the northward. Rollins
had only to ride four miles to the ore-cars eleven — but
such a night for coasting!
The rain made it hard for him to follow the little circle
of light that his lantern threw before him as he scorched
along the level stretch.
Before he reached the hill-top it seemed to him that he
was standing still, and the road coming up at him like the
surface of a great wheel.
At last he felt that he had reached down-grade. How he
longed now for the brake that he had so disdained! He
determined to keep his feet going as long as he safelv
could, and he back-pedalled gently to keep them in place.
Thud! he struck the first water-bar, and his cap came
forward over his eyes. He threw it off with a backward
toss of his head.
Another jolt ! He was too much in the middle of the
road. He must keep more to the left. He was flying now.
The rain poured down his face and stung him in a thou-
sand prickling points.
The wind roared frightfully in his ears, and he straight-
ened up as far as his crooked racing-handles would allow.
He was at the first turn. He swirled about it, and his feet
came off the ratchets. He lifted up his knees, and placed
his legs ou the rests. He was riding a runaway.
"Hard to the left!" he kept saying to himself, with his
arms braced straight like iron rods. The front wheel
wriggled, and he knew he had struck the bit of sandy
road above the second angle, and the worst. It warned
him just in time. He remembered the huge rock with the
advertisements on it, and a ray from the lantern caught it
as he flashed b}1 and then swooped off to the right. A
sharp jingle as a stone flew up against the spokes ; he was
once more in the straight shoot for the last turn of all.
With wide-staring eyes he prayed; his tongue formed
the words behind his closely shut teeth. " Bear to the left
now!" He knew the path was better on that side.
Again the front wheel wriggled fiercely. It, was by no-
thing but luck this time that he had chosen the right, mo-
ment. There was a hollow thump as he crossed a wooden
culvert and bounded for a moment clear into the air.
The greatest danger was passed. Below him stretched a
straight, decline, and then the sandy patch before he
reached the crossing.
How could he stop ? He could never catch those flying
pedals. Hul stop he must or he would overshoot his mark
a half-mile before he found the level.
It was no easy thing to do to hold that struggling front
wheel steady. He straightened up, and bending his right
knee, placed the sole of his foot, against the tire of the
front wheel. He could feel it, warming through the
leather, but he had partly cheeked the speed. Then there
was a ringing sound, a twist, of both his arms, and over he
went with a sickening momentary cry of fear.
He rolled up on his hands and knees. To save his life
he could not help that choking, whimpering sound. His
month was full of sand, anil he felt as though his breast
had been crushed in against his lungs. A sharp pain ran
through his left leg; but at last he caught his breath.
There was the track within thirty feet of when' he had
fallen. He could only tell this by seeing the ghostlike
danger-post, that stretched above the roadway like a white
warning gallows. There, a few rods down the track, was
the switch that turned through the sharp cut to the
quarries.
Rollins ga \ e a cry. " The' key !" The switch was locked.
Would he have to stand there and see the ore-cars rush by
1055
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
'I SAY, YOU PEOPLE, THEUG'S A DEAD MAN OK SOMETHING HERE IN THE ROAD.
hands at the guard chain to
But what was that standing
him? He twisted with both
the lock. It wouldn't, move,
close on the siding ?
A haud-car is a good lift for two men at any time, but it
seemed as if made of pine wood instead of heavy iron
wheels and bars. He rolled it to the track, and up-ended
it as easily as a laborer would throw over a wheel-barrow.
Then lie heard a roaring sound above him along the
grade. The sharp staccato tooting of the drilling engine
he heard also. Then far below him, four miles away, the
long confident whistle of No. 44 at a grade crossing. The
rails were slippery, and he knew that the train was coining
slowly up the grade. As the hand-car toppled across the
track be threw upon the heap two heavy ties, and scrambled
up the opposite bank. Now the roaring was upon him !
Crash ! A snap and a whirl, and the wheels of the foremost
ore-car caught the obstruction. The load piled forward,
and the flats behind reared up and threw their heavy
freight in all directions. He had wrecked her just iu
time.
He hurried back to the crossing. A tangle of wire and
frame-work, the bicycle lay at the road-side. He must
have missed striking that huge rock by nothing short of a
miracle. The lamp, twisted aud broken, was attached to
the front fork. He could smell the oil, and he sopped it
•with his handkerchief. His hands were sticky, and the
match refused to light. At last he struck a handful of
them; they flashed feebly, then sputtered and went out.
In the brief space Rollins had seen that his hands were
dripping red.
A great white eye aud the tinkling of the rails told that
the little switch engine would strike the obstruction first.
It was alongside now ! The young mau saw that the
wheels were reversing furiously. Then he heard a second
crash and a screeching, long continued, that went through
aud through his dizzy brain.
" Safe ! safe !" he said, aud fell limp iu the sand.
"Are you Imrted, Bill, lad?" said the engineer of the
switch engine, rubbing his bruised sides aud letting up for
a miuute his pull on the whistle rope. "Them ore-cars
jumped the track."
"No; all O K," came the answer from the opposite side of
the cab. "Jest bumped a bit. Listen! There's old .lack
whistling for brakes."
The shrieking of the switch engine was warning No. 44
in time. They could make-
out her head-light through
the leaves of the trees just
at the tangent of the curve
a quarter of a mile below.
Some figures were running
up the track, for they
could see a lantern bob-
bing up and down, and
soon the voices were quite
close.
"What has happened
here '<" inquired a man with
brass buttons, as he caught
a glimpse of the engineer
swinging himself painfully
off the step to the grouud
behind the wreckage.
" The Lord's finger, I
reckon," said the engineer.
"I swear I saw a light!"
aud in a few words he told
the story.
A group of passengers
had surrounded the heap of
boards, ore, iron wheels,
and axles. The head-light
of the switch engine had
gone out in the jar, and
there was not a face shown
in the dim rays from the
lantern that did not pale.
A drummer in a silk travelling-cap struck a match to
light a paper cigarette, but his hand trembled so that he
gave up, and sat down on the ties, and mechanically brushed
(iff his shoes with his pocket-handkerchief as if it were
dusty and broad daylight.
Another whistle sounded up vhe grade.
" There's no train due," said the cttrly-headed young
brakemau who had come up with another lantern on his
arm. A large crowd of the passengers of No. 44 accompa-
nied him.
"J presume likely that's the wrecking-train," said the
engineer, " come down to pick you fellows up."
"Get up the track and flag her, Billy! Jump quick!"
ordered the conductor.
The brakeiuan started on a run. As he passed the grade
crossing he shouted back,
" I say, yon people, there's a dead man or something here
iu the road, "and, without a pause, he hurried on.
Rollins opened his eyes and felt the familiar motion of
a moving train, but for an instaut he could not call back
his wits to think. He was lying on a mattress on the floorr
and his head and shoulders were propped up comfortably.
There was a crowd standing about him.
" You're all right, my lad," said a voice. " There are four
of us here to look out for you." The doctor arose from his
knees and laughed.
Rollins faintly smiled. "Oh, I'm kind of comfortable,"'
he said.
" The company ought to give him a gold bicycle set with
diamonds," said the conductor.
"I'd rather have a trip to Europe," said Rollins.
A quiet-looking man standing in a corner of the car
heard this remark and made a note of it.
The whistle hallooed exultantly at the entrance of the
Jinitown yards.
The sound reached the ears of Mr. Mingle as lie sat with
his forehead resting on the edge of his desk. The tbree
sharp toots that were being given so often in succession
could be nothing else than cheers.
"Headquarters there! O K. My side, partner saved
the train. Hurrah! Forty-four is safe!"
He twitched the dots and dashes out with his nervous
fingers. Then he drew his sleeve across his eyes aud dash-
ed down the steps to meet the train.
"Rollie's a piece of work, "he said to himself.
1056
OAKLEIGH.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELANO.
C II AFTER XVIII.
EDITH recovered slowly; but the shock had told upon
her, ami it was thought she needed a change of air
" Take her to a city," suggested the doctor. •' She re-
quires diversion."
And very hurriedly and unexpectedly they decided to
go to Washington for a week or two, stopping in Phila-
delphia on their way back for a glimpse of Neal.
The party consisted of Mrs. Franklin, Edith, and Cyn-
thia, with the addition at the last moment of Aunt Betsey.
Each of the three Franklins felt a slight pang of disap-
pointment when they heard that Miss Trinkett intended
to join them; it would have been just a little nicer to go
alone. But the old lady never suspected this, and she met
them in Boston on the morning of the 1st of June, full of
excitement and pleasure at the thought of seeing "the
inner workings of this wonderful government of ours."
Hester's one thought was that she should soou see her
brother again. During the last few weeks a letter had
come from the head master at St. Asaph's, deeply regretting
the unjust judgment that had been passed upon Neal in
suspending him from school. It had since been proved that
he was innocent, and the faculty would be only too glad In
wdmine him back. Mrs. Franklin felt that she could not
do too mnch to
atone to Neal for
having suspected
him, and she long-
ed to tell him so.
"And if I once
see him I can per-
suade him to couie
back. I know I
can !" she said, joy-
fully, to Cynthia.
The visit was an
unqualified suc-
cess. The Franklin
party did a vast
amount of sight -
seeing, Miss Triuk-
ett being the most
indefatigable of
all. Indeed, Cyn-
thia was the only
one who was able
physically to keep
up with her ener-
getic little grand-
aunt, and even she
was sometimes
forced to plead fa-
tigue.
Miss Betsey left
nothing undone.
She journeyed to
the top of the Mon-
ument, she made
a solemn pilgrim-
age to Alexandria.
She was never too
tired to go to the
Capitol, and her lit-
tle black-robed fig-
ure and large black
bonnet soon be-
came familiar ob-
jects iu the visitors'
gallery, while she
listened carefully
to all the speeches,
thrilling or dull as
they chanced to be.
When the latter
was the case, as frequently happened, Miss Trinkett waxed
warm with indignation at the lack of attention paid to
the prosy old member by his inconsiderate colleagues.
"Look!" she would whisper to Cynthia; "they are act-
ually reading and writing and talking quite loud to each
other while that poor old gentleman is speaking ; and some
have gone out. How shocking!"
And she would lean forward again in an attitude of
renewed attention, and listen to the reasous for or against
some very unimportant project.
At Mount Veruon Miss Trinkett's joy and patriotism
knew mi hounds. She bought little hatchets by the score,
and herself drew up the bucket from the General's own
well. Sin- was even guilty of breaking off a twig in Mrs.
Washington's garden, notwithstanding the signs which
informed her that she was doing it under penally of the law.
"1 just couldn't help it," she said afterwards to her
nieces, in apologetic tones. "To think of that labyrinth
and that box-border being Martha Washington's own, and
me with the same thing in my garden at home! It made
me fairly thrill to think of Martha and me having the
same tastes in common. I knew she'd have let me take it
if she'd been here, for I always heard she was real kind-
hearted, if she iron dignified, so I just did it."
"CYNTHIA FRANKLIN," SHE EXCLAIMED, " LOOK THERE!"
1057
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
But the most exciting day of all was when they visited
the Dead-letter Office. Miss Triukett, interested as she
hud always been in the mail service, was much impressed.
She sat upstairs for hours, and gazed over the railing at
the rows of men who were opening and examining thou-
sands of missent letters. She could only he torn away by
the entreaties of Cynthia, who begged her to come see the
collection of curiosities which had found their way to this
vast receptacle.
At the first glass case Miss Betsey stood appalled.
•• Cynthia Franklin," she. exclaimed. " look there !"
Cynthia looked. There was every conceivable thing in
the place, from a beehive to a baby's rattle'.
" Do you see f "
"What, Aunt Betsey?"
" There ! Look, my own rag doll !"
"Aunt Betsey, it can't be!"
"It is. Cyntliy. Don't I know the work of my own
hands, I should like to ask ? Well, well, J want to know !
I want — to — know! Find me, a chair, Cynthy. I feel that
taken aback I don't know but what I'm going to faint,
though I never did sneh a thing. But do tell! do tell!
Oh, this government of ours! It is an age to live, in, Cyn-
thy."
Cynthia brought her the chair, and the old lady seated
herself in front of the case.
"I do declare if there ain't the very eyes I sewed in with
my own hands — black beads they are, Cyntliy — and the
hair I embroidered with fine black yarn ! And the petti-
coats, Cynthy ! The flannel oue's feather-stitched. I could
tell you what that doll has on to her very stockings. To
think that something I made so innocently, away off in
Wayborongli, for our little Janet, now belongs to the
United States government! Well, well, it's a great honor;
almost too good to be true. But the little satchel, Cynthy
— the satchel that hung at her side with the gold in it,
where's that ?"
That indeed was missing.
" Well, well, we won't say anything. I'm sure govern-
ment deserves it for all the trouble it takes, opening all
those letters aud bundles."
But her family thought, differently, aud wheels within
wheels were set in motion by which the fifty dollars in
gold were recovered — the famous fifty dollars, the loss of
which had so affected the fortunes of Neal Gordon.
It seemed that in her agitation, after the death of Silas
Green, Miss Betsey, though she stamped it generously, had
put uo address at all on the package, aud having sent it off
by the half-blind Mr. Peters, the deficiency had not been
discovered.
He had taken it to Tottenham post-office, where both
he and Miss Triukett were unknown, aud hurried away,
leaving the valuable package to the mercies of govern-
ment.
"And to think that government takes care of things aud
gives them back to yon when you are as careless as all
that !" said Miss Betsey. The doll she would not re-
ceive.
"No, no, "she said; "let it stay where it is. I'll make
another for Janet some day. It's an honor I never ex-
pected, to have one of my rag dolls set up in a glass case- in
a public building in the city of Washington for thousands
and thousands of the American people to gaze at! Indeed,
I want to know !"
The two weeks in Washington finally came to an end.
aud the Franklins bade farewell to the beautiful city with
its parks and circles, its magnificent avenues, its public
buildings, and towering Monument.
" Well, well," said Miss Betsey, as she took her last look,
"I haven't lived all these years for nothing! I've been to
the capital of my country, and I've visited the tomli of
Washington. And, Cyuthy, now it's all over aud we're safe-
ly out of the way, I'm real glad I took that twig from the
garden. I had a kind of an uneasy feeling about it all the
time I was in town, but now I feel better."
When they arrived at Philadelphia. Mr. Carpenter was
waiting for them at the station. Neal, he explained, was
at the lumber-yard; he could not get off at that hour.
They intended going to a hotel, but William Carpenter,
with Quaker hospitality, insisted that they should stay un-
der his roof while they were in the city.
"Kachel expects- thee," he said to his cousin when she
remonstrated ; " she has made the necessary preparations."
" But there are so many of us," said Mrs. Franklin.
"There is room for all, and more," he replied, calmly.
Miss Triukett was much pleased with all she saw, though
somewhat surprised when she heard herself called by her
given name on so short an acquaintance."
'• However, it gives you an at-home feeling right away,"
she confided to her nieces. "It seems as if I were back
in Wayborough with the people that have known mo ever
since I was born, I wouldn't like to say how many years
ago, though not so very many, either."
It was the middle of the afternoon when Neal came in.
Hester heard his familiar step coming down the long
narrow hall to her room, where she was resting. Tin-re
was a knock at the door, ami she called to him to come in.
In another instant his arms were around her.
"Neal, Neal," she' cried, " is it really you at last? Oh,
how I have longed to see you ! Let me look at you."
She held herself away from him, and scrutinized the face
which was far above hers.
"You've grown. You are taller than ever. I only
come up to your shoulder, Neal. \Vbat a big man you
are going to be! Aud you have altered — your face looks
different. What is it?"
"Can't say," he laughed. ''Don't stare a fellow out of
countenance, Hessie ; it's embarrassing. Did you have a
good time in Washington ?"
It was evident that he did not wish to refer to past
events, but Hester insisted upon speaking. She felt that
something must be said sooner or later, and there was no
time like the present. It would be well to get it over.
"Xeal," she said, tenderly, taking his baud as they sat
together ou the sofa, " I never really thought you took the
money. I only did for an instant after yon ran away. Of
course that seemed strange. But, Neal, you will forgive
us for thinking so at all. You will come back, won't you,
dear? John wants you to as well as I, and you will go to
college."
Neal rose and walked to the window. He stood there
for a moment, with his bands iu his pockets. Then be
turned, and, coming back, stood iu front of her.
"I'll tell you what it is. Hessie, we've both got some-
thing to forgive. I was beastly extravagant at St. Asaph's,
aud not at all fair aud square when I asked you for the
money that. time. Then, being suspended was all against
me, and of course John bad a right to get mad. It's aw-
fully hard to swallow the fact that be wouldn't believe
me, and he thought I would steal; however, he bad some
excuse for it. My old pride was at the bottom of it all.
You see, I've had time to think it over since I've been
here; two months is a good long time. I've been alone
a lot, aud when you're not measuring boards at a lumber-
yard you have plenty of time for thinking over your sins.
And I suppose I was pretty well in the wrong, too. I
ought not to have run away; I know that."
Now that Xeal had reached this conclusion he was cour-
ageous enough to acknowledge it.
"And you will come home now, and go to college."
"X'o. I don't think I will. Cousin William seems to
think I do pretty well in the business, and I shouldn't
wonder if he'd feel rather badly to have me go. He was
very good to take me in. Then I made up my mind I'd
stick at the old thing and show Cyii — show some people
I'm no coward. Then I'm not very much gone on books,
Hessie, and it I went to college I'd want to give a good
deal of time to sports and all that, aud I'd need a lot of
money. Somehow I don't seem to be able to see other
fellows spending a pile without doing likewise. I haven't
got it, and I am not going to be dependent ou yon, Hessie
dear, much as I know you would like to give me every cent
you own. But, on the whole, I think I like better to make
my own living. I rather like the feeling of it."
Hester 1'clr that Neal was .showing that he was made of
good stuff. She was not a little proud of his independent
1058
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
spirit. She \vas greatly disappointed that hi- was nut
going through college; but, after all, she reflected, there
was great wisdom in what he said. She determined to say
no more until she had consulted with her husband, but she
knew that he would agree with Neal.
"And now where are the girls?'' demanded Neal, with a
view to changing the subject.- " I want to see theru."
His sister called them in from the next room, and they
had a merry meeting.
"How funny it is," thought Cynthia. ''The last time I
saw Neal we were like two drenched water-rats on the
river at home. Whoever thought we should meet away
oft' here in a strange house and a strange city, where all is
so different? I believe things are really going to come
right after all, and that day I was perfectly certain they
never would. Here is Edith well and strong when I
thought she was surely going to die, and mamma has
seen Neal and seems as happy as a lark, and Neal himself
looks fine. Somehow he seems more like a man. I'm
proud of him.'1
All of which train of thought took place while Cj'nthia
was indulging in an unwonted fit of silence.
Neal soon suggested that they should take a walk, and
the girls acceding to it, the three set forth. Neal feeling
extremely proud of the two pretty maidens with whom 1. e
was walking.
"Philadelphia has an awfully forlorn look in summer,"
he said, with the air of having been born and brought up
a Philadelphia]]. "You see, everybody goes out of town,
and the houses are all boarded up. You're here at just the
wrong time."
'• \Vc are certainly here at a very hot time," remarked
Edith, as she raised her parasol.
"They call it very cool for this time of year. "said Neal.
'• You forget you are farther south than old Massachusetts.
It is a dandy place, I think, though I wouldn't mind know-
ing a few people that are not Friends."
"How can you know people unless they are friends?"
asked Cynthia, gayly.
"Cyuth, what a pun!" said Neal, with an attempt at a
frown. ''I say, though, it's awfully jolly to have you two
girls here, even if Cynthia does keep at her old tricks
and make very poor puns. How long are you going to
3taj .'"
"As long as we're bidden, I suppose," returned Cynthia,
with one of her well-known little skips, as they set foot on
Walnut .Street Bridge.
It was six o'clock, but being June the sun was still high
above the horizon. A gentle breeze came off the river,
and the afternoon light threw a soft radiance over the
masts of the vessels which lay at anchor at the wharves,
and the spires and chimneys of the town.
They wandered through the pretty streets of West Phila-
delphia ; Neal, happy in having companions of his own age
again, laughing and talking in his old way, care-free and
fun-loving once more.
To Cynthia the past year seemed a hideous dream, now
to be blotted out forever.
She and Neal had one conversation alone together. It
was the night before the visitors were to leave Philadel-
phia, and the two were in the old garden that was at the
back of Mr. Carpenter's house. It was not like Aunt Bet-
sey's garden, nor the more modern one at Oakleigh, but the
roses and the lilac blossoms suggested a bit of country here
among city bricks and mortar.
Neal was very quiet, and Cynthia rallied him for being
>o. as she herself laughed heartily at one of her own jokes.
" Well, perhaps I am rather glum,'' said he ; " but I think
you are horribly heartless, Cynthia, laughing that way when
you're going oft' to-morrow, and nobody knows when I shall
see you again."
Cynthia was sobered in a moment.
" Neal, I want to tell you something," she said. '• Mamma
told me that you have decided to stay here and work in-
stead of going to college, and I admire you for doing it.
Of course, it's a great pity for a boy not to go to college,
but then yours is .1 peculiar case, and I'm proud of you,
Neal. Yes, I am! You're plucky to stick it out."
"Wait until I do stick it out," said Neal, coloring hotly
at the unexpected praise. "But it's rather nice to hear
you tell me I'm something besides a coward."
"Hush! Don't remember what I said that day. Just
forget it all."
"Indeed, I won't! It is written down in my brain,
every word of it, in indelible ink. There was something
else you said, Cynth. You said you had faith in me. I
mean to show yon that you didn't make a mistake. It
will be harder work than ever now, though. Having seen
you all makes the idea of toiling and moiling here pretty
poky. My mind is made up. I icill stick it out!"
[TO BK COMINUKR]
IN THE VALLEY.
Tun night has tilled the valley up
Brimful of darkness, like a cup;
But day will spill the mists again
Over the brim — ill driving rain.
MAKKIOX WILCOX.
A PARSLEY BED.
BY EMMA J. GRAY
I WISH / could make a little money," said confidential
Florence to her friend Annette.
Now Annette was notably practical, and though a dili-
gent student, managed to rind time for apparently every-
thing else, money-making included. Indeed, had she not
been as enterprising, much of her enjoyment would neces-
sarily have been left out. Her father and mother had
many conferences to contrive ways and means to supply
their children's needs. And stern necessity made frequent
entertainments and many dainty gifts quite impossible.
So Florence appealed to the right person, and her friend's
advice would apply to any boy or girl who, like Florence,
would like to make a little' money.
" Eaise parsley." And Annette smilingly nodded her
bright little head.
" WThy, how could I make any money out of parsley ?"
was the doubting query.
"If, Florie dear, you'll do exactly as I will tell you, you
will see. Now listen:
"Next spring have your ground turned to the depth of
one foot. And be sure to have it well manured, for parsley
loves a rich soil. Some people put soot around the young
plants, and think it is very helpful. Before planting your
seeds soak them for an hour in warm water. Cover them
half an inch with soil, and watch carefully. The ground
must never be allowed to become parched, for your parsley
would die Eaise as much as you can, and if the supply is
greater than the demand, dry some. Cut off close to the
roots, and dry in a shallow tin pan in a moderate oven. It
will scorch very easily, so look out. When it is dry, pow-
der it in your ringers, and pack in paper or tin boxes. You
will find the dried parsley will help out your winter supply
wonderfully."
" But, Annette," interrupted Florence, "surely you cannot
raise parsley in the house?"
"Why not? Of course \<m can. During September, and
later at intervals, plant seeds in boxes and pots, and place
in your sunny windows. It will grow beautifully all win-
ter, and you'll find you can get good prices for it. By-the-
way, so that your prices may be honest, inquire in any
grocery store, and aim to sell at the same figure. Of course
in summer it will be much cheaper.
"About customers. Arrange for them while your plants
are growing. Your family and friends will do to start
with, and soon you will Mud more and yet more. For pars-
ley has such multiplied uses. For soups, lisb. entrees, meat,
and game, for flavoring and garnishing. You know peo-
ple must have it. And remember parsley may be cut down
to the root again and again, and up it will come bravely
each time. But frost is a great enemy. Before its ap-
proach gather all you can and try transplanting the roots.
They may not always be depended upon, but often they will
live and flourish from season to season."
1059
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE EAST-SIDE BOY AND HIS GAMES.
P.Y KEY. JOHN T. WILDS, D.D.
BEING a boy in a crowded city and being a boy in a
village are two different tilings, though boys the world
over arc always boys. The balance of fun and sport is,
after all, in favor of the city lad, the offspring of the tene-
ment-house.
After spending my boyhood in a delightful mountain
village, and after being much of a boy, although a man, for
years in the crowded tenement section of the East Side of
New York, I am inclined to believe that pity is greatly mis-
placed when a youthful reader of the ROUND TABLE spreads
himself in summer days under a great tree, feels sorry for
the poor East-sider of New York, and says, "It's too bad
he can't be here with me." Right now, my delightful friend
uuder the tree, shouts of'merriment ring in my ears from
boys who last, night slept in a close room, or possibly on
the fire-escape, whose breakfast was most meagre because
their parents are poor and honest. They are as happy as
the day is long. They are happier longer than the day,
BASEBALL.
because they never go to bed until ten o'clock, and they
only go then because the hall light is turned out at that
hour, and they don't like to climb up to the top story, or
go through a long alleyway in the dark any more than you
enjoy going through a graveyard in the night-time.
Necessity keeps the Kast-sider active. If he lolls on the
street the police stir him ; if he hangs about a. store the
keeper chases him away; but they tolerate him when he is
playing. Necessity also make him inventive. They make
their games and have them in season. They would as soon
thiuk of wearing an ulster in summer-time as play top in
July. I don't know but that they have a code quite as
reasonable as the high-classed youth who patterns after
the dude.
Our happy lad of the tenement, until he is fourteen when
he leaves school and goes to work, is compelled to play in
crowded streets where hundreds of children swarm like bees,
and necessarily within a narrow space. But In; has broad
ideas, and insists upon doing, accommodating the space in
some way. whatever others do. The asphalt- pavements are
of the greatest blessing — far better than roof-gardens, and
siuce we cannot have ninny parks, they are of greater im-
portance to all concerned than the little squares that dot
our city. At evening-time, when the street-organs have
not gathered all the girls of the block for a dance, and dur-
ing the day on the sunny side of the street one may find a
most energetic crowd of boys, eager, and intensely excited
over a game. The streets and pavements are all marked
over with strange diagrams, each one of which tells of a
conflict. -"Tip Cat" is always popular, but played, as a
rule, in the morning ; so also is " Kicking the Stick 01 Can."
When the sun is hot they get on the shady side and play
"Long Branch" and "War." Later on they have the
"Hopping Game" and "Spread the Woman." Then when
night comes — and it is not night, for the streets are as light,
as day because of the electric-light or gas — they dart about
as detectives and robbers playing "Relievio."
It will be observed that they play what men do. You
may often hear an imitation of the tire-gong, and see boys
rush out before an imaginary wagon and engine, and go
through the motion of having a fire. Children are rescued,
the dead are laid out, medals are awarded for bravery.
When the Lndlow Street Jail robbers escaped, the boys de-
vised a jail, and the three noted robbers were impersona-
ted, and escaped. The jailer was in dismay. Detectives
and police went forth, climbing on tops of bouses, over
fences, eagerly searching for the men. And they were
successful, be it said to the honor of the
Vjoys.
Of course they play baseball. What
boy does not? These East-aiders have
not the green diamond — if they had they
would roll over the grass, pat it in love,
sit down and look at it a long time before
they would play ball upon it. I have
taken children to the Park, far up to the
Bronx, where everything is delightfully
free, and they have sat down and rubbed
the grass, and petted it as a child will a
tender animal. But they have their ball
games and get excited over them, al-
though the diamond is on stone, and not
two feet square.
They are always at something, and less
frequently in mischief than one would
think. They are divided into crowds,
each street or block has its gang, and woe
he to him who dares encroach. They have
chosen leaders whose command they obey.
There is a vast deal of honor among them,
and I am not sure but that he is some-
what better than the lad that hangs
around the country store or goes swim-
ming in the mill - pond of the vil-
lage.
The following are some of the summer
games that engage his attention and keep
him out of mischief :
four squares within, each
Then construct your score-
BASKBALL.
Construct a square having
marked as in the illustration,
eard after the usual manner.
Stand ten or more feet off and
toss a penny or piece of lead,
which the boys call the lead
digger, into the squares. If it
touches a line or falls outside
he is out. If it falls within
one of the squares it counts for
so many base hits as the square
indicates. For example, if it. is
on H. -K., it is a score, that
being a home-ran. If on 2 B.,
that means t \\ o-base hit, which
puts him on second base. The
rest of the game is like base-
ball.
TIP CAT.
A two-foot circle is made, or more commonly with the
lad of these parts the manhole or steam-escape tap se-
lected. On the side of it is drawn a mark which is called
the measuring spot. In the centre of the circle is placed a
H -H.
3B.
1 B.
'2B.
H
3
2
1
. R. — Home-run.
B.— T!iree-Biisi> Hit.
B.— Two-Base Hit.
B.— One-Base Hit.
1000
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
stick about four or six inches long, ta-
pered to one end. This is called the
cat. The batter strikes this tapered end
so that it will fly up, and then bats it as
in baseball. The one in the field returns
it. If he throws it within the distance
measured by the bat from the measur-
ing spot the batter is out. If that is
not done the batter measures to the cat,
and the number of times it takes the
stick to reach it counts so many tallies.
The game is limited by a number from
one hundred and up.
REL1HVIO.
Make a boundary -line embracing such
territory as is wise or as your space al-
lows, across which no player can go. If
he does he is captured. Then make a
den by drawing a square 3x4 feet.
Divide the players into t\vo equal
parts, each side appointing a captain
and den - keeper. The two sides are
called detectives and robbers. The side
being out are the robbers.
The robbers then hide in any place
•within the boundary. When hid the
captain of the robbers cries "relievio!"
meaning "ready." The captain of the
detectives then sends out his men to search for the
robbers. When a robber is found and caught he must
not struggle until within six feet of the deu, when
he can try to get away. The work of the detective is to
get the robber within touch of the keeper. If the keeper
touches the robber he yields and enters the deu. It is ne-
cessary for the keeper to stand with one foot in the den.
If both feet are placed in the den, or both outside, the
prisoners are free. If at any time a robber, not captured,
cau place his foot in the deu and cries "relievio!" he sets
the prisoners free. If in his attempt to free the prisoners
the keeper simply touches him he is captured. Only one
detective at a time can take a robber.
When all the robbers are captured, the sides change.
" SPREAD THE WOMAN."
A lint or tin-can is placed on the ground betwreeu a
player's feet, whose name is " It." All the other players
gather near him for the purpose of kicking the object. If
a player kicks the object, and is touched by It, he becomes
It. If It chases the one who touched the object, the others
may kick it, and then It has to
return.
The game has time limit.
Each one plays for himself.
WAR.
"start" and finishiiij
he is out for that turn
FL
CW
AMC
FL
J5
J~S
AC
AC
AC
FL
FL
CW
FL.
J"J
CW
AMC
FL.
AM0
JS
J$
AC
A/V1C
CW
FL
ss
X
LONG s BRANCH
LONG BRANCH.
Construct a diagram like
the illustration ; place a pen-
ny on a spot about six inches
from lower line, and shove
it with the finger for one of
the numbered spaces. If it
touches a line it is out. If
it is on a space, that space
is marked by a line first
drawn across, as seen on first
line. If first line is touched four
o times a star is made, as seen in
second space. If again it falls
on that space a bullet is made, as seen on third space. If
the digger is on "Long Branch," it gives a mark to each
space. The side that has the most bullets on the stars, as
in the third space, wins. The players alternate in playing.
The players are equally divided. Two or more may play.
HolTI.NG GAME.
Make a diagram like the illustration, each square about
six inches square, and five for each player. The first
player hops around in each space, commencing with
at " end." If he touches the line
If he goes round successfully, he is
permitted to put
his initial or num-
ber on the space he
may choose. When
he is hopping he
may rest on both
feet at such spaces,
but all other play-
ers must hop over
them. The game
is finished when all
the spaces are fill-
ed, and the one
whose name is
most numerous is
winner. "F. L."
has won in the il-
lustration.
Construct a diagram like the illustration ; place a penny
on a spot six or more inches from the last line, and shove
or shoot it with the finger. If it touches a line the play is
a failure, and the next player takes his turn, but if it stops
on a space, you make a round
mark in imitation of a man's /-
head. If it falls on the part
marked " War," it entitles you
to a mark in each space. Af-
ter the head are formed the
body, the legs (one at a time),
then the arms (one at a time),
then a gun is placed in the
soldiers' hands; each play in
that space then gives a. bul-
let, so marked by little balls,
until there are three ; then the
next successful play on that
space fires the gun, and. ol
course, kills the enemy. Thus
the game continues until one
side has all its soldiers killed
by the men of the other.
During the war between Ja-
pan and China, those two countries were at war every day
on the sidewalks of the city. Often I have heard slnnits
that called me to my window, when I would see the tri-
umphant party rejoicing over their victory.
1
_
EC.Q
1001
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
HOW A BOY CAN COME TO NEW YORK
AND GET A SITUATION.
BY H. G. PAINE.
rPIIIS is !i question that cannot be answered specifically,
-I. or to meet every case. It cannot certainly be answered
in a way to meet any case. All that I am going to under-
take is to show liow some boys whom I have known have
come to New York and obtained situations, and by throw-
ing some light on business methods and business chances
in tlie metropolis to help some other boys who may read
this to find answers to suit their own individual cases. In
the first place I will assume that the boy to whom I am
speaking is living in the country, or in a small town, aud
that he wishes to go to New York for the purpose of get-
ting a position in a mercantile or business house, and that
he will be entirely dependent on his own resources as soon
as he leaves home. Of course I do not mean by this that
lie will come to New York penniless. He must, of course,
expect to have enough money saved or spared him to live
on until he gets a place. But he will expect to support
himself as soou as he finds work. On this account, unless
he has had some previous experience, or has some special
knowledge that he can make useful, he would better stay
at home. For he will at once find himself competing
against the city boy, who lives at home, and who therefore
can work for little aud sometimes no wages.
That same word "home," too, is a great stumbling-block
to the boy from away. "You don't live at home? Well,
I'm afraid we can't engage any boy who doesn't live home,"
will become a too familiar sentence to the inexperienced
lad looking for work iu a strange city. Yet this is per-
fectly natural aud proper. "Home" implies some older
person to be responsible for the boy out of business hours.
It implies the ties of church and of school and of social life.
For this reason the country boy who wishes to come to New
York aud get a, situation would better first try to get a sit-
uation nearer home. If there is no chance for him in the
"geueral store" close at hand, perhaps iu some near-by
town he can learn the rudiments of business — of stock,
of book-keeping, of attending to customers — for his keep.
Then if he is a wide-awake boy, and determined to try
his fortunes in a big city, he will perhaps make friends, iu
so far as he can properly, with the salesmen of the large
city connnissiou and jobbing houses who sell goods to his
employer. Many of these salesmen are very influential
men in the houses where they are employed; some of them
are men who find it more profitable to sell goods ou com-
mission than to accept partnerships iu the firms for which
they work. I have known of several boys who have at-
tracted the attention of New York salesmen by their bright
and attractive manners, aud by their evident knowledge of
their business, and have secured employment in New York
through their inllnencc. This, however, is not a way that
it would be safe for a boy to count on. It is only the ex-
ceptional boy who will get to New York iu this way.
Sometimes a boy's employer may help him to get a place
in New York, if he likes the boy, and has influence with
some of the big wholesale establishments, or the boy may"
have personal or family friends whose inlluence may secure
him the coveted place. This is the age of the summer
boarder, and the country boy may be so fortunate as to be
thrown every summer into acquaintance with city people
who, if they become interested enough, may help him in his
ambitious. But, after all, few country boys cau command
enough influence to get places in the city. The country
boy, then, must go to New York armed with the best re-
commendations that he cau obtain from his former employ-
ers, and with as much experience MS possible. He uiust
also have personal letters from his father or other guardian,
aud from the pastor of the church which he attends, and
perhaps one from his last school teacher as to his mental
progress and attainments. Not every business man would
ask to see all of these, but it is best to be fully prepared.
If he have some friend to whose house he can go. he will
be more fortunate than most boys who come to New York,
but he should at least have some kuowu objective point to
which to go on his arrival. If there is uo friend to whose
house he can go, at least temporarily, until he can find a
suitable boarding-house, he should endeavor to secure
through trustworthy friends the address of some such house,
and, previous to leaving home, he should make arrange-
ments for staying at least a week or two there. If none of
these things be possible for him, he may have to depend on
the advice of the clergymau to whom his own pastor will
have given him a letter. Perhaps there is no better way
of establishing a headquarters for himself, a place aud peo-
ple to tie up to, than by identifying himself at the start
with the Y.M.C.A. A letter enclosing a stamp for a reply
to the Secretary of the New York Branch, Twenty-third
Street aud Fourth Avenue, will soon put him in possession
of a great deal of useful information. Five dollars will
make him a member for one year, and give him many ad-
vantages, among others, what will be immediately avail-
able, a directory of cheap but respectable boarding-houses,
aud an employment bureau. Unless a boy has exceptional
facilities he will easily save the cost of joining iu the first
few weeks after coming to the city in the advice and oppor-
tunities afforded him.
The first thing that the country boy will have to cou-
sider is where and how to live. As a matter of fact it is a
question which rapidly resolves itself into a choice of hall
bedrooms in boarding-houses. For in no other way can he
live so well within the income that he is likely to earn.
The best way is to spend as little as is consistent with de-
cency aud getting enough to eat, at least until employment
is secured, aud then the style of living can be improved if
the wages warrant it. They probably will not warrant it
xintil after a year or two. Good board aud clean beds
cau be secured in New York for as low as live dollars a
week, aud an occasional landlady will be met who will put
up a plain bread and butter lunch to be takcu to business
without extra charge. This is the kind of landlady for
whom the country boy must look. Washing aud car fares
will amount to a dollar or a dollar and a half more, depend-
ing on the amount of clean clothes required, and the dis-
tance of his boarding-house from his place of business when
he gets oue.
The young adveuturer having now found a place to eat
and sleep iu, aud where he may leave his satchel, can start out
with the knowledge that he must find a place where he can
earn at least six or seven dollars a week to begiu ou. And
theu he will have nothing over for clothes, repairs, emer-
gencies, and last of all for spending money. Eight dollars
a week is about the smallest sum on which a self-respect-
ing boy, well brought up, aud accustomed to decent living,
can keep himself going. For the first year, if he is well
stocked with clothes, he could perhaps, with a little assist-
ance from home, manage to scrape along ou seven or even
six, but such an experience would be pleasauter to look
back on than to pass through.
Boys beginning at the beginning in large commercial
houses generally get about three or four dollars a week if
they are in the stock, and from five to seven dollars if they
are in the office. But a boy who goes into the stock and
learns it, aud how to sell it to customers, has acquired a
knowledge of a business, while a boy who goes into the
office learns how to become a book-keeper only. For this
reason a knowledge of some sort of stock is very valuable
to the boy from the country. If he can go into a business
house and make himself immediately useful, instead of
merely helping around while he is learning about the goods
that the house deals iu, he may be able to earn enough at
the start to support himself.
It is the office, however, which is very apt to capture the
country boy, because it offers wages on which a boy can at
least sustain life. Almost any boy who has worked iu a
country store has picked up some knowledge of book-keep-
ing, aud book-keeping is taught theoretically in many high-
schools, as well as in the countless business "colleges" of
the country. It is not difficult, therefore, for a boy to ob-
tain sufficient knowledge of its rudiments to be able to
take the first position above that of office-boy. To fill
such a place, however, he must be bright, neat, prompt, at-
tentive, write a good hand, and be quick at figures. Though
a boy may fill the bill in all these particulars, and not be
HH;J
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
nblr to find work at once, he will succeed in the end, keep
his place when he gets it, and win promotion. He will
look through the advertisements for help wanted in the
daily papers, and answer all such as seem to come from
good houses.
He must, however, beware of a too common kind of
swindler — the smooth-tongued man who offers to get a boy
a place for a money consideration. He usually works in
with a partner who runs a mythical business, and engages
the victim at an unexpectedly large salary. The happy
boy pays over all his savings to the agent, and suddenly
finds himself discharged on some trumped-up charge, or
comes down-town nest day to find the office locked and
employer and "business" flown. Sometimes this game is
worked by the "employer" alone, who requires a deposit,
usually accurately gauged to the amouu.t the victim has or
can raise, as a guarantee of faithfulness in a position of
trust. The trust turns out to be entirely on the part of
the employe, and he soon finds himself withoutjob or money.
Many business houses, however, never advertise for help
— most of them have a list of applications of portentous
length, from which they can choose people who come re-
commended by friends or employe's. It is well to make as
many friends as you can, and to ask them to let yon know
of any vacancies likely to occur. It is permissible to go to
a business house and to apply for a place. This sort of work
is very discouraging, yet I have known of many places ob-
tained in just that way.
I knew a boy, an Englishman, a stranger in the country,
•who in less than a day's seeking got a place as entry-clerk
at five dollars a week in a large notions house. He lived
on it, I don't know how, and I fancy he would have diffi-
culty in explaining, for six months, and then applied for
an increase. The firm, which was noted for its close meth-
ods, refused ; and the English lad, who was nearly desper-
ate, simply resigned and walked into the place next door
anil applied for work. There was nothing for him there,
nor next door, but before he had gone two blocks he found
employment at seven dollars a week. The firm was doing
a large business, which necessitated his staying until seven
or eight o'clock two or three evenings a week. On such
occasions he received fifty cents supper money. This boy
shared a furnished room in Brooklyn with a friend, and
took his meals at cheap restaurants. His extra fifty cents
was, therefore, clear gain. The boys who boarded did not
fare so well. One of them, however, was able to find a
boarding-house near enough for him to go lo it for all his
meals, and so secured the same benefit, and, in addition, all
the advantages that come with having a settled home and
regular habits. This boy, too, had secured a place with no
more influence than that of the roommate his slender
finances compelled him to take when he came to the city
looking for work. Both of these boys were unusually
bright. Though they had to work hard, they found time
to study at night. The English boy studied mechanical
drawing, and is now a successful designer in an architect-
ural iron-works. The other boy studied medicine, and is
now a resident physician in a large hospital. A third boy
in the same office is now an editor. A fourth is a success-
ful life-insurance canvasser, and has lately insured the
lives of the other three. All four of these boys would
rather have been in the stock, but they couldn't afford to
live on the low wages they would have had to take. They
were too ambitious to remain clerks, and so fitted them-
selves for other employments. A fifth boy had not suffi-
cient application or ambition to follow their example, and
a short time ago he was still a book-keeper, and was mak-
ing not over twenty dollars a week — not a rapid advance
in fourteen years. A sixth boy staid in the office until he
was earning ten dollars a week, lived on eight, and saved
two. When he had a hundred dollars he applied for a
place in the stock. As he had been four years with the
firm, and was twenty-one years old, they gave him six dol-
lars a week to begin on. This, with the money he had
saved, enabled him to live as well as the year before. The
following year he was raised to eight dollars ; in six
months, to twelve; six mouths later, to fifteen, and he is
now head of his department and buyer for a large import-
ing house. He receives a salary of five thousand a year,
and a share in the profits of his department, which amounts
to as much. He makes two trips every year to Europe,
and lias all his expenses paid while he is travelling for the
house. Of those six boys, the parents of only two lived
in the city.
Thus far I have treated only of the chances in whole-
sale mercantile establishments, such as deal in dry goods,
hardware, and so forth. These, however, form only a small
portion of the business enterprises in N.ew York. There
are banking houses, manufacturing concerns, publishing
houses, insurance companies, and hosts of agents for any-
thing and everything, not to mention the great number of
retail stores, all of which employ clerical assistance, and in
any one of which the country lad looking for work may
suddenly find himself employed. It is a saying, as true as
it is old, that it is the unexpected that happens.
I know a boy who had lived all his life in the city,
whose parents were people of position and influence. He
spent three weeks, working six hours a day, in calling
upon, every business man he knew, or whom his father
knew, or to whom he could get letters of introduction, ask-
ing for work, and finally found it through a young fellow
of his own age whom he had met casually during his pre-
vious summer vacation. So it may be with the country
boy. The opening, when it does come, may be in the very
opposite direction from that in which he is looking. If he
is wise he will slip into it, however different it may be
from what he wants. He will at least be earning money,
and can keep up his search for what he does want until he
finds it. If he is faithful and energetic he will gain the
approval of his employers, and be able to take a city refer-
ence with him when he leaves for the " something better."
He may even find that there are unsuspected opportu-
nities in the place that seemed so unpromising to him when
he took it. A great deal depends upon the boy. Some
boys will rise more quickly in one place than in another.
The boy who is bound to rise will get to the top no matter
where he finds himself. Few boys would take a position
behind the counter iu a retail store if they could get any-
thing better, yet some clerks rise to be floor-walkers, and
some floor-walkers rise to be buyers, and some buyers be-
come partners and proprietors and amass great wealth.
I know one young man who had a good position in a
wholesale hardware house, who gave it up to take a place
at lower wages iu a retail store. He argued that as the
retail hardware business was not one which usually at-
tracted energetic and ambitious young men he would meet
with little competition from his fellow clerks. He was
right. They knew only one side of hardware, the retail
side. He knew hardware inside and out. He soon found
that he knew more than the proprietor, and showed him
how he could buy to better advantage. Then he said he
thought he would go back to his old place, but his em-
ployer offered him an interest in the business, and he staid.
I know another boy who had some experience iu retail
clothing in an interior town. He came to New York, an-
swered an advertisement, and obtained work in a large
retail clothing house here. Then he studied clothes. When
he had learned all about clothes, he studied cloths. He
made friends with young men of his own age who were
employed in importing houses and commission houses, and
learned the difference between English cloths and French
cloths and American cloths. Whenever he could he would
go into other clothing stores, price their goods, perhaps try
on a suit, and observe their methods. One day a fellow-
salesman came to him, and said : " I have just come into a
legacy of twenty thousand dollars, and I am going into
business on my own account. But all I know is how to
sell ready-made clothes. I know very little about cloth,
and nothing about manufacturing or buying clothes. If
you will come with me and attend to that end of the busi-
ness, I will give you a two-fifths interest." That firm now
imports its foreign cloths direct, and its American goods
are manufactured to its order.
Such are the stories of a few boys whom I know. They
show how some boys came to the city to seek employment
and found it, and may serve to show the way to others.
1063
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE HORSE OF THE SHEIK OF THE
MOUNTAIN OF SINGING SANDS.
WITH the money •which they secured from the spoils
of the Arab tribe, Dncardauoy, the ventriloquist,
ami Bouchardy, the prestidigitateur, purchased a fine
vineyard at Nouvelle Saar-Louis. The story of the man-
ner in which they had acquired their money passed from
month to mouth among the European population, and at
length the Arabs of the town heard it, and repeated it to
their brethren of the desert. At times the ex-chiropodists
saw strange Arabs loitering in the road before their prem-
ises and regarding the house with careful scrutiny, but the
garrison was not far away and no acts of violence were
committed. It was nearly a year, however, before they
ceased to have apprehensions of poniard thrusts in the
baclc or of awaking to find their house in flames.
" It is plain," said Ducardanoy, as they were celebrating
the anniversary of their arrival at Nouvelle Saar-Lonis by
a dinner to their friends, " that those fellows regard us as
magicians of great power, else they would have sought re-
venge before this."
"I don't know about that," said Bouchardy. "Every-
body here is well acquainted with our story, and I'll wager
that the frightened tribesmen themselves now know that
there was nothing supernatural in the entertainment to
which we treated them. It is the proximity of the garri-
son that has prevented them from taking a revenge."
"I would like another encounter with the fellows in
trade or in battle," said Ducardanoy. " There would be
mouey in it, there would be money in it." And as if in
answer to his wish, there was ushered in an Arab mulatto
of the giant stature that characterizes the cross of the
Arab and negro. He was a messenger from the Sheik of
the Mountain of Singing Sands, he said, and had come to
request the professional services of the two gentlemen in
the case of the Sheik's horse Sunlight, who was grievously
afflicted with a corn on his right forefoot. The chiropodists
opened their eyes. Everybody in Algeria had heard of the
stallion Sunlight, an animal whom money could not buy,
and who was said to wear shoes of gold set with precious
stones.
" A corn on a horse's hoof is not the same thing as a corn
on a man's foot," said Ducardanoy.
" But we can cure it, nevertheless," said Bouchardy.
"Do not interfere, Bouchardy. You know nothing of
surgery of the feet," said Ducardanoy, scornfully. "I
shall require more pay for curing a corn on a horse's hoof
than I would in the case of a man."
" The Sheik will fill your mouth with gold," said the mes-
senger.
The Sheik's camp was pitched in the open desert, and the
men of science vainly looked about in every direction for the
far-famed hill against whose western face lay an immense
heap of sand that hummed and sung whenever its surface
was disturbed and sent sliding downward. The Sheik
was himself troubled with a bad foot, due to his imprudently
\\earing a pair of razor-toed patent-leather shoes presented
to him by the General commanding the department, and
Ducardanoy was asked to relieve him before examining the
golden-shod horse.
"Where is the Mountain of Singing Sands?" asked Du-
cardanoy, as he finished tying the last bandage on the
Sheik's foot.
"We do not always camp in one place, you know," said
the Sheik ; " but you will see it shortly."
" How so ?" asked Ducardauoy, in surprise. " It is not
visible, on the horizon, and must be a day's journey. How
shall I see it shortly?"
"You will see it as the Evil One flies through the air
with your soul on the way to the abode of the lost. Mus-
tapha, bring out Sunlight and his consort, and make ready
to drag these infidels asunder."
The chiropodists turned pale as this command was given,
and the horses were brought forth, one a dapple gray with
gold shoes, the other a dapple gray with silver shoes, and
they had not yet uttered a word when the Sheik's retain-
ers advanced to bind them.
"Stop!" cried Dncardauoy. "Why are we to be killed?
What is our crime?"
"Do you not remember the time when by your devilish
arts you frightened some true believers at the Roman tower
and took their property? The Sheik of that tribe was my
nephew, and even if he were no kin of mine, you infidel
dogs should die for robbing true believers."
"When death is a punishment," said Bouchardy, "it is
where the man desires to live and cannot, for if he desires
to die, death can be no punishment. Now when you sub-
ject us to the slow torture of being pulled apart by these
horses, we hail death with delight as a relief to pain, and
your punishment has failed."
The Sheik scowled and said nothing.
" Where death comes quickly and without pain," contin-
ued Bouchardy, " the desire to live is intense, and death is
all that the utmost hate can ask for as a revenge."
•'Why do you point out these things to us?" asked the
Sheik's vizier. "If what you say is true, why do you
point out to us a way to make your punishment more ter-
rible ?"
" To show you how much wiser we Frenchmen are than
you Arabs. To make you see how hopeless is the design
you witless Arabs cherish of driving the wise French from
the land. If my sorrow can accomplish anything for the
republic, I willingly endure it."
"Let them be shot, and at once," growled the Sheik.
"I crave a boon," said Bouchardy. "We have cured
your painful foot, and we have the right to ask a boon."
"If it be nothing that interferes with your death be-
fore the edge of the sun touches the horizon it shall be
granted."
" It is that we be shot with my revolver, and I be allowed
to load it."
The revolver was loaded, and the Sheik himself stepped
forth and aimed it at Bouchardy.
Bang !
" Ha! ha!" laughed Bouchardy, and opening his mouth, ho
dropped out the bullet.
Bang ! went a second chamber of the revolver.
"Ha! ha!" laughed Bouchardy again, and again he
dropped a bullet from his mouth.
" Ha! ha!" chuckled a big dromedary at the right of the
Sheik, and the man turned in startled fright and fired at
the animal.
"Ha! ha!" said the dromedary, and Bouchardy stepped
up to it, and opening its month, produced the bullet.
"Ha! ha!" said the dromedary. "Ha! ha!" said (ho
donkey of the Sheik's favorite wife. "Ha! ha!" said the
horse of the vizier.
" Dogs, scoundrels, cowards!" sneered the dromedary.
Bang! But not the bang of the revolver, and the flint-
lock of the vizier was smoking, and the dromedary had
fallen, and its life blood was pouring out on the sand.
Bang! bang! went other flint-locks. Bullets whizzed by
Bonchardy's ears, and he did not take them out of his
mouth.
" Hold!" came a voice from the mouth of the dying cam-
el. " The curse of Allah is on the tribe. He has loosed
the Singing Sands from their place, and they are sweeping
over the desert to overwhelm you. Listen !"
Guns that had been raised to the position of aim were
lowered, half-drawn swords dropped back into their scab-
bards, and all listened as a low hum was heard in the dis-
tance, and rapidly began to grow louder and nearer.
" I see it," cried Ducardanoy. "Fly! fly!"'
The Arabs rushed wildly to their steeds. Bouchardy and
Ducardanoy sprang upon Sunlight and Moonlight and
spurred away to the north, and the Arabs rushed away to
the west, and the hum of the approaching Singing Sands,
if it was still sounding, was drowned in the confusion. It
was not until they had ridden half an hour that Bouchardy
and Ducardanoy saw the Arabs pause in their flight and
finally turn northward.
"They have begun to suspect that we outwitted them,
and are after us," said Ducardauoy.
"Let them come," said Bonchardy. "There is not a
horse in Africa that can catch us." W. A. CURTIS.
1064
u
INTERSCHOEASTIC
IT is TO BE REGRETTED that the New York I.S.A.A., at its
meeting two weeks ago, failed to take any decisive ac-
tiou in regard to the formation of a National Intel-scholastic
Association, for an enterprise of this nature requires much
time :iml thought to ensure success, and in order to hold a
creditable field day next June preparations for the gather-
ing should be begun at once. We may confidently count,
however, on definite action being taken at the meeting to
be held a fortnight hence, and then the work will be pushed
along rapidly, and the plans hitherto merely talked of
will be crystallized into permanent form. That the va-
rious scholastic associations all over the country are anx-
ious to have the scheme put through there is no doubt.
The Maine and the California associations have already
given notice, through their secretaries, of their desire to
join a National Association, and similar informal notifica-
tions have come from the New England, the Pennsylvania,
the Connecticut, and the Iowa associations. I would sug-
gest that all other interscholastic associations whose senti-
ments lean in this direction communicate informally with
this Department, giving the name and address of some
member with whom the N. Y.I. S. A. A. committee on prelim-
inary organization may correspond as soon as they organize,
and these communications will be submitted to the proper
officers of the N.Y.I.S.A.A. in due time.
ONE OF THE QUESTIONS that must come up at the outset,
and that as a matter of fact has already come up in the in-
formal discussions of the subject, is whether membership
in the proposed National Association shall be restricted to
State and city I. S. A.A.'s, or open, as well, to individual
schools. It were better at first,! think, that membership be
restricted to associations ; that is, that the larger body be
made up of smaller organizations, which in turn are com-
posed of individual institutions. Then the competitors at
the national meeting would represent the best and strongest
athletic talent of the State and city leagues — men who had
earned their right to compete by having won in their event
at their own State or city contest.
SOME SORT OF EXCEPTION could be made in favor of large
schools that do not belong to any association, or whose as-
sociatiou, should they be members of one, could not for some
reason send a team to the national meeting. The question
will come up for decision in the case of the Oakland High-
School of California. This school belongs to the Academic
Athletic League of the Pacific Coast, and is imbued with suf-
ficient sporting spirit to wish to come East, and enter the
National Interscholastic lists. The A.A.L. might hesitate at
undertaking to send a team to New York on account of the
expense; but because the A.A.L. cannot send a representative
team is no reason why the O.H.-S. should not be allowed to
compete. As a matter of fact any team representative of
the A.A.L. would be largely made up of O.H.-S. athletes.
It is very probable, however, that the A.A.L. will be per-
fectly willing, and even anxious, to have the O.H.-S. team
come East (at its own expense), as the representative not
only of the Oakland School, but of the entire Academic
League. It could place its reputation in much worse
hands. But whatever the A.A.L.'s inclination may be, the
organizers of the National Association must formulate some
rule that shall cover this and similar cases, or they will find
themselves constantly called upon to solve knotty and com-
plicated questions.
Tim NEW YOUK INTEHSCHOLASTIC football season is more
backward this year than ever before. There seems to be
almost no interest in the game except here and there, and
several schools have announced that they will not even
put teams in the field. Harvard School is one of those.
The reason given is that the principal considers the game
as played now too rough for his pupils. A member of the
school, however, asserts that the true reason is that the
Harvard scholars are not good enough at the game for the
school to stand any chance in the league contests, should it
enter. There is a good deal too much of the desire to win
"prizes" in most of our local scholastic athletics which
ought to be strongly discouraged. It is regrettable to have
to admit it, but I am persuaded that if it should be an-
nounced that only ribbons would be given as prizes at all
future track-athletic games, five-eighths of those who go
into the games at present would cease to take any interest
in tin' sports. As a purifier of athletics I think the ribbon
system might be a good thing to try.
THE LONG ISLAND ASSOCIATION, like its cousin on this
side of the river, has decided to adopt the Yale-Princeton
football rules. This is fortunate, because it will save con-
siderable trouble in view of the Inter-City games, and we
should always be glad when we can get rid of an element
of dispute. For the Fates only know that there are enough
squabbles in athletics already without borrowing any from
the colleges or anywhere else. And, besides, the Yale-
Princeton rules are the most suitable for the schools in this
section. In New England it is different, for the presence
and influence of Harvard there enter into the question.
THE ST. MARK'S ELEVEN is making every effort to get
into form for the game with its old rival, Groton, and in its
preliminary games thus far the men have shown up well.
White is a veteran, and is playing again at full-back, where
he did good work last year. The previous season he was
at quarter-back, hut his punting makes him a more desir-
able man further back. Nash is playing right half-back,
and Captain Mills will probably play left half. Nash is a
new man on the team, but has improved greatly since the
beginning of the season. Hatch is another novice on the
first eleven, hut had some practice at quarter-back on the
second last yeai\ which position he will fill on the first this
year. In the line, Watson, right tackle, Hare, left tackle,
and Davis, right end, tilled the same positions last year.
The new men, Watson, Egbert, and Humphreys are all im-
proving fast under good coaching, and there is no reason
why the team should not develop into a strong one at the
end of the season.
THE CONNECTICUT LEAGUE has been reorganized, and now
consists of the following schools: Hillhouse H.-S. and Hop-
kins Grammar, of New Haven ; Hartford, Bridgeport, New
Britain, and Waterbnry high-schools ; and Norwich and Suf-
field academies. The schedule of championship games he-
gins on October 26th, when Hartford meets New Britain,
Suffield meets Norwich, Hillhouse meets Bridgeport, and
Hopkins Grammar meets Waterbury. The winners of these
matches will play on November 2d, and the championship
will be decided on the Yale Field a week later.
ALL THE TEAMS OF THE LEAGUi? have been getting good
practice, and have played a number of smaller games. The
Hartford H.-S. team seems to offer the greatest promise at
present; but since their defeat by the Springfield H.-S.
there has been a notable shake-up. Bryant is playing at
tackle again, and Smith, last year's centre, is in his old
place. Grant, a new man, is playing guard in Lyman's
place, while Lyman has moved up one to tackle. Goodell
has dropped back of the line, taking Jenkins' place, who is
1065
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
l.-iiil <>tf. Mori-mil is licilding down right, end, vice Twitchell.
This nc.w arrangement will probably be in e-ffect when
Hartford lines up against IIilllicni.se' on the 2d of next
month.
FOR SOME YEARS PAST there have been rumors, more or
less well-founded, that certain players on teams of the
Connecticut League had no business playing, and hints of
pecuniary recompense were not whispered in low tones,
but called out. loudly. New Britain came in for a gen-
erous share of these aspersions, ami from all I am able to
learn richly deserved them two or three years ago. I be-
lieve, however, that a better appreciation of sportsmanship
prevails there at present, and I doubt if the other schools
in the league will find it necessary to protest any of the
New Britain players this year.
COMPLAINTS HAVE BEEN MADE, to be sure, but upon in-
vestigation I find that the trouble arises out of the fact
that the New Britain Captain has allowed two or three out-
siders to play on his team in practice games (notably in
the recent contest at Waterbmy), rather than to jeopard
his chances of victory by using weak substitutes. I am
assured, however, that no such tricks will be played in any
championship match. The method ought not to have been
adopted even in practice. It is not sportsmanlike, and is
cowardly in that the New Britain men are knowingly and
unfairly taking advantage of their opponents if they allow
players on their eleven who are not in regular attendance
at the New Britain High-School.
BY DOING ANYTHING OF THIS KIND a captain not only
attempts to conquer his opponents by unfair means and
false representations, but he stultifies himself. He admits
that he has not men good enough, or is incapable to training
players who shall be strong enough, to defeat the eleven
with whom he has agreed to play. He therefore secures a
few good-natured, able-bodied outsiders, who are the means
of earning a victory; but it is not the High-School team
that has won. It is a team made up of a few High-School
players and a few others. All this sounds harsh when put
into cold type. The case seems so different when smoothed
over with pleasant words. It is good for sport to have
facts put in plain English occasionally. So far there has
been no great harm done at New Britain this year, and I
hope the players there will soon see the justness of restrict-
ing membership on their team to lx»ui //</< scholars. And,
in passing, let me add that there are a number of other
captains who may read the foregoing paragraphs to their
great advantage, for this criticism is by no means intended
to be particular, but general.
NEXT SATURDAY THE NEW BRITAIN TEAM will play the
Hillhouse High-School eleven on the Yale Field at New
Haven. The game should be. of interest not only because
both teams are good ones, but because these two schools
have not met since the championship game' played in the
fall of 1893, when New Britain succeeded in defeating the
New Haven eleven for the championship of the League.
At the time a protest was enierecl against a player named
Wheeler, of the New linlain team, who was charged with
being a professional athlete. There- is little doubt that
Wheeler was a professional, but the charges were not sus-
tained at a later meeting, and the trophy went to the New
Britain team.
THE BIGGEST SCORE AT FOOTBALL that the'. Harvard 'Var-
3il v ever ma.de against Exeter was, 158 to 0. That was in
1886, I believe, and unless I am mistaken it is the record
for big scores in a game between two regularly organized
and trained elevens. Nevertheless, the P.E.A. team that
was vanquished by this enormous score went down to Au-
dover and defeated their rivals 26 to 0. This year Har-
\ aid's scorn against Exeter was 42 to 0, and yet there' is
little doubt that Andover could easily take Exeter into
camp if the two schools should meet. This shous hem-
little teams can be judged by comparing scores. The
Exeter eleven this year is not a good one, and yet the fig-
ures of the Harvard game would seem to show that it is.
When the play is analyzed, however, the truth is apparent.
For instance, at no time during the game did Exeter suc-
ceed either in advancing the ball the necessary five yards
on four downs, nor were her men able to hold Harvard for
four downs, or to compel the Harvard back to punt.
THK PLAY BETWEEN EACH TOUCH-DOWN was almost
identical. Exeter would kick off and the ball would be
punted back by one of the 'varsity players. If the crimson
forwards got down the field fast enough, as they frequent-
ly did, they secured the ball and proceeded with the play
until they scored. If a P.E.A. man got the ball then Har-
vard would force the school-team to lose a few yards, and
at the fourth down Williams would punt. Sometimes he
would, and sometimes he would not, because the Exeter
rush-line was seldom able to hold the college men. As
soon as Harvard got the ball on a play of this kind a couple
of runs around the end or dives through the centre would
net a touch-down. It is surprising that the winning score
was not twice as large. Two halves of fifteen minutes only
were played. If I remember correctly the 158-0 game lasted
two full-time halves, and in those days each half lasted
three-quarters of an hour.
NEW LEAGUES AKE SPRINGING up continually. A few
days ago the three most prominent military schools of the
West met in Chicago and organized the Northwestern Mil-
itary School League, which is to consist of the Shattuck
Military School, at Faribault, Minnesota; St. John's Mili-
tary Academy, at Delafield, Wisconsin ; and the Michigan
Military Academy of Orchard Lake, Michigan. The organ-
ization is to cover baseball, football, and track athletics.
It is to be- a triangular league at present, but other schools
may be admitted by unanimous vote. No arrangements
have yet been made for baseball or track contests, but a
football schedule has been laid out as follows: Shattuck
will meet St. John's at Minneapolis or St. Paul the Satur-
day before Thanksgiving, and the winner will play Orchard
Lake at Chicago the week following. This league ought
to grow and prosper, for it is just the kind of thing that is
needed among the schools of the Northwest to encourage
and foster interscholastic sport.
THE INTER-PREPARATORY LEAGUE and the Cook County
High-School F.B. League, of Chicago, are at present the
most flourishing scholastic associations of the West. They
are both strong in members, and some of the school teams
are putting up good football. The Cook County H.-S.F.B.
League's schedule is made out as follows:
At Oak Park— Oct. 19, English High and Manual Train-
ing ; Nov. 2, West Division ; Nov. 16, Hyde Park.
At Chicago Manual — Oct. 13, English High; Oct. 19,
North Division; Nov. Hi, Lake View; Nov. 2:i, Oak Park.
At Lake View— Oct. 12, Oak Park; Oct. 19, Hyde- Park :
Oct. 26, North Division; Nov. 2, Englewood.
At Englewood— Oct. 26, Oak Park; Nov. 26, West Divi-
sion.
At English High — Oct. 5, Chicago Manual ; Oct. 9, Lake
View ; Nov. 23, Enulewood.
At West Division — Oct. 5, Lake View; Oct. 12, English
High; Oct. 28, Manual Training; Nov. 16, North Division.
At Hyde Park— Oct. 9, Euglewood; Oct. 26, English
High; Nov. 20, Manual Training.
At North Division — Oct. 5, Oak Park; Nov. 2, English
High ; Nov. 9, Euglewood; Nov. 23, Hyde Park.
THE SEASON OF BOTH the Chicago leagues began Saturday,
as the; schedules show, the Inter-Preparatory A. L. arrange-
ment of games being in this order:
Oct. 19 — Princeton- Yale vs. University, at Lincoln Park :
Harvard c.s-. South Side Academy, at Washington Park.
Oct. 26 — Princeton- Yale vs. Harvard, at Washington
Park; rniversiry c*. South Side, at Lincoln Park.
Nov. 2 --Princeton- Yale i-.«. South Side, at Washington
Park ; Harvard rs. University, at Lincoln Park.
1066
HARPEB'S ROUND TABLE
Nov. ;i — Princeton-Yale vs. University, at
Washington Park; Harvard Kg. South Side,
;lt Washington Park.
Nov. 16 — University ''*. Smith Side, at
Washington Paris; Princeton- Yale r«. Har-
vard, at Washington Park.
Nov. 23 — Princeton-Yale vs. South Side, at
Washington Park; Harvard c». University.
at Washington Park.
THE OPENING GAME of the Junior League
of Huston proved a walk-over for Newton
High, whose eleven defeated Roxhury High,
30-0. The Newton team has greatly im-
proved since Brookline High forced it out
of the Senior League, and will be able to
give the Brooldinites a hard tussle should
they meet again. The team -work, espe-
cially, in the Roxbury game was good. Ev-
ery man knew his place, and played it for
all he was worth, and the interference for
the. backs was excellent. Roxbnry.on the
other hand, put up a weak game, and their
rush-line seemed incapable of shutting off
the Newton backs. The Roxbur}1 ends did
the. best work for the visitors.
THE GRADUATE.
LITTLE MAUGAUICT. " Mamma, Ijes b'lieve
'twas Johnny 'at broke my doll."
MAMMA. "Why, dear? What makes you
think so?"
LITTLE MARGARET. "'Cause he said he
didn't 'tliout my askin'."
UDDING
STICK
This Department is conducted in the Interest of Girls nnd Young
Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on
the subject eo far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.
THE prettiest way to arrange your hair?
Especially if it is very long, very thick,
and a ujost beautiful color, yet cannot be
worn hanging down in braids, because you
are too tall for anything so childish, nor
fastened up in a graceful Psyche knot at
the hack of the head, quite near the neck,
because it is too heavy, and comes tumbling
down at inconvenient seasons. Lovely hair,
but an embarrassment of riches, is it not?
If it were my hair, and I were the dear
young girl who finds it a bother and a bur-
den, I would coil it. on top of my head and
\\ear it like a crown. I wouldn't mind its
having the effect of making me look taller,
and I would stand up very straight, and
look as tall as I could. In my opinion height
is a beauty, and I never care about a. "ji Ts
being tall, except to admire her. Tall girls
must mind that they carry themselves well,
and do not stoop nor crane their heads for-
ward as if they had lost something and
wen> perpetually looking for it. You re-
ineiuber Tennyson's picture, do you not, a
word picture such as only a poet could
paint:
" A daughter of the gods,
Divinely tall, and most divinely fair."
If the coronal effect were unbecoming, or
i;;i\e a feeling of weight" on top of my head,
then I would braid the hair in several
strands, and mass it all over the back of the
head. I would simply part it in the mid-
dle, and avoid fringes, and bangs, and little
curls, crimps, and other 'attempts at decora-
tion in front. When hair has a natural wave
or ripple it is very pretty, and should have
its "ay, but straight hair is pretty too, and
girls should be satisfied to wear their hair
iu the style nature intended for them.
AVOID following a fashion iu hair-dress-
ing simply because it is a fashion. Simon
says " up," and, presto! a hundred thousand
young women alter their way of arranging
their hair, and pile it steeple-fashion above
their heads; Simon says "down," and in
the twinkling of an eye the towers fall.
Now any sensible girl can see that the shape
of the head, the shape of the face, anil the
general style of the' individual are to be
taken into account in her dress, and her
hair is an important part of this. Choose
a style, and do not change it, except for
some reason stronger than a caprice. Do
not use oils or liquids of any kind on your
head, and never try to change the color of
I your hair. Whatever its color, it is the one
which best suits you, or it would not be
yours. Keel, golden, brown, blade, flaxen,
whatever be the tint, lie sure it is the one
tint that matches your eyes and your com-
plexion better than any other could.
WASH your hair thoroughly and dry it
well once a month. Brush it carefully for
a long time every night, and braid it on re-
tiring.
THE girl with thin hair has a harder prob-
lem than the girl whose hair is thick. .She
must beware of straining it back and of
braiding it tightly. Loose coils are best for
her. The girl who insists on crimping and
waving her hair should know that by wet-
ting her hair with cologne before putting
hot irons on it she can insure the waves
staying in fora long time, and she must not
forget that very great heat often applied
will kill the life of her hair at the roots.
Highest of all in Leavening Strength. — Latest U. S. Gov't Report.
Baking
Powder
LUTELY PURE
Co
Fall Underwear.
"CARTWRIQHT & WARNER'S"
Celebrated Manufacture
Ladies'1, Children's, Men's Underwear.
HOSIERY.
Ladies' Wool, Camel 's - Hair, Merino,
and Silk Hose. Cluldretfs Hose of
every style, plain and ribbed.
Golf and Bicycle Hose.
Fancy and Heather Mixtures.
NEW YORK.
the best things in Prose and Poetry, always includ-
ing good Songs and Hymns. It is surprising how
little good work of this kind seems to be done in
the Schools, if one must judge from the small nnm-
ber^of people who can repeat, without mistake or
omission, as many as Three good songs or hymns.
and accurate Memory work is a most excellent
thing, whether in School or out of it . among all ages
and ;ill classes. But let that which is so learned be
worth learning and worth retaining. The Franklin
Square Song Collection presents a large number of
and Hymns, in great variety and very carefully
selected, comprising Sixteen Hundred in the Eigh't
Numbers thus far issued, together with much
choice and profitable Reading Matter relating to
Music and Musicians. In the complete and varied
01] §0nlmtb,
which is sent free on application to the Publishers,
there are found dozens of the best things in the
World, which are well worth committing: to mem-
ory; and they who know most of such good things,
and appreciate and enjoy them most, are really
among the best educated people in any country.
Thev have the best result of Education. *Forabo\'e
Contents, with sample pages of Music, address
Harper & Brothers. New York.
1007
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
3ICYCLING
Copyright, 1895, by Harper & Brothers.
This Department is conducted in the interest of Bicyclers, and tlie Editor will be pleased to
answer any question on the subject. Our maps and tours contain much valuable dnla kindly
supplied from the ohVbi] maps and road-books of the League cf American Wheelmen. Recop-
nizing the value of the work being done by the I.. A. W., the Editor will be pleased to furnish
subscribers with membership blanks and information so far as possible.
AT the junction of Hnntiugton Avenue and Boylsmu
Street is Copley Square, oue of the most artistic
spots in Boston, and a very convenient and popular start-
ing-point for cycling trips into the .suburbs and the out-
lying country. For the ride to Lexington and Concord
oue should leave the Library on the left, and, continuing
through Dartmouth Street, turn to the left into Common-
wealth Avenue. At the statue of Leif Ericsou turn to the
right onto Massachusetts Avenue and pass over Harvard
Bridge, a mile in length. After crossing the river turn to
the right at Norfolk Street, .and then to the left onto Har-
vard Street. You now pass a section of new asphalt road,
and, approaching Harvard Square, keep to the right past
the College, with the Common on the left. Among the in-
teresting buildings of the University there stands out the
commanding form of Memorial Hall, where hundreds of
students board. On the left, at the beginning of Brattle
Street, is the old elm, and near by it a tablet indicating
the spot where Washington took command of the Conti-
nental Army. A few minutes' run out Brattle Street will
bring one to the home of the poet Longfellow, opposite
Longfellow Park. From Cambridge Common the ride to
Arlington and Lexington is a direct road via Massachusetts
Avenue. The condition of the road is good. The surface
for most of the distance has been macadamized, while the
other portions are gravelled and well rolled.
At the corner of Beech Street you come upon the line of
march of the royal army which was sent out to capture
Adams and Hancock at Lexington, and to destroy the
stores collected by the patriots at Concord. From this
point on almost every old house has some historic associa-
tion, and occasional tablets by the road-side mark scenes
of heroism. In the vicinity of Lexington the country be-
comes more rolling. The village itself is two hundred feet
above the sea-level. Follow the main street, and pass on
the left an old-time house shaded in front by two magnifi-
cent trees. This is the Monroe Tavern, where the British
officers made themselves at home. On the rising ground
to the rear of this house were some of Lord Percy's field-
pieces. Shortly after you come to the village green, where
the first stand was made for liberty, and where there has
been erected a beautiful monument in memory of the first
Revolutionary martyrs. To the right, and a short dis-
tance from the Common on the road to Bedford, is the old
Hancock-Clarke house, in which were Hancock and Adams
when the royal troops approached Lexington. From the
Common keep to the left on Lincoln Street to the Five Cor-
ners. There turn to the right, into Marrett Street, and then
turning to the left there is a straight way into Concord by
the Lexington road. At Merriam's Corner, not far from
Concord, is a stone marking the beginning of the British
retreat. Passing this, and entering the village, you come
upon the green where stands the old Wright Tavern, a
popular place for wheelmen to dine. A run should be
made out Monument Street, past the Thorean House, to
the monument which marks the fight at the bridge. It is
located on a lane leading from the left of Monument
Street, and a sign at its entrance gives you the cue.
In coming back to Boston follow the same route to the
Five Corners, and there turn to the right into School
Street, and to the right again into Waltham Street. Here
NOTI.— Map of New York city asphalted .treets in No. 809. Map of route from - ew York
to Tarrytown in No MO. New York to Stamford, Connecticut, in No. 811. New York to
Stolen Island in No. 812. New Jersey from Hnboken to Pine Brook In No. 813. Brooklyn in
No. 814. "rooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn to Northport in No 816. Tarrylown
to Pougbkeepsie in No- 817. Poughkeepsie to Hudson in No. 818. Hudson to Albany in No.
819. Toltenville to Trenton in No 820. Trenton to Philadelphia in No. 821. Philadelphia
in No. 82!. Philadelphia— Wissahickon Route ir No. 823. Philadelphia to West Chester in
Nn s 4. Philadelphia to Atlantic City— First htape in No. 825 ; Set mid Stnge in No. 826.
Philadelphia to Vineland— First Stage in No. 827. Second Stage in No. 628. New lorkto
Boston— Second Stage in No. 829 ; Third Stage in No 830 , Fourth Slage in No. 831 ; Fifth
Stage in No. 832 ; Sixth Stage in No. 833.
1068
HARPEE'S ROUND TABLE
the rider has before him a long and gradu-
ally descending road with excellent surface
and good coasting most of the way to Wal-
tliain. Keep on the direct road until Main
Si reel is rearlie.l. and there turn to the left,
following Main Street into Watertown. Then
turn to the right into North Beacon Street.
This is practically the continuation of Com-
monwealth Avenue, and the rider can now
follow a direct way to Dartmouth Street,
\\ here, turning to the right, he passes into
Copley Square.
Distances are : Boston to Arlington, seven
miles; to Lexington, five miles; to Con-
cord, six miles ; to Waltham, nine miles; to
Watertowu, three miles; to Boston, seven
miles; in all, thirty -seven miles.
NOT ENCOURAGING.
A FRENCH paper tells of a discouraging
experience an ambitious young tenor
once had when trying to show what kind of
a voice he had to a manager. After he had
sounded three or four notes the manager
stopped him.
"There, that will do," he said; "leave me
your address. I will bear you in mind in
case of emergency."
"What do you call a case of emergency f
"Well, supposing my theatre got on
fire."
"Eh?"
"Yes; I should engage you to sing out,
Fire! fire!"
A POUND OP FACTS
is worth oceans of theories. More infants are suc-
cessfully raised on the Guil Bnrden Eagle Brand Con-
densed Milk than upon any other food. Infant
Health is a valuable pamphlet I'or mothers. Send your
address to N. Y. Condensed Milk Co., N. Y.— [Adv.
Cycling
Delight
is at its greatest these
days. Cool, bracing
air ; hard, smooth,
dustless roads. The
COLUMBIA
BICYCLE
holds $100 of de-
light in every dol-
lar of the $100 it
costs. You may
just as well buy
your machine for
next year now.
POPE MFG. CO.,
HARTFORD, CONN.
Timely Warning.
The great success of the chocolate preparations of
the house of Walter Baker & Co. (established
in 1780) has led to the placing on the market
many misleading and unscrupulous imitations
of their name, labels, and wrappers. Walter
Baker & Co. are the oldest and largest manu-
facturers of pure and high-grade Cocoas and
Chocolates on this continent. No chemicals are
used in their manufactures.
Consumers should ask for, and be sure that
they get, the genuine Walter Baker & Co.'s goods.
WALTER BAKER & CO., Limited,
DORCHESTER, MASS.
WelN=Well==Well !
Oh, Boys,
How long are we to tell you
"Rugby'Watches
are waiting for you ? We wouldn't jolly
you this way if we hadn't something that
we are sure you want. Send for the
"Rugby" Catalogue — never mind if
you don't want a watch now. You will
have a pointer when you are ready.
The Waterbury Watch Co.,
206
Waterbury, Conn.
We will help bright Boys and
Girls in every town to earn some
Pocket-Money before
Christmas.
It will be an easy matter to
Earn from $5 upwards, after
School hours and during
Holidays and vacations.
If you are interested, write
At once to
ALPHA PUBLISHING COMPANY,
212 Boylston Street, Boston.
OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT °£">°*™rd
CILLOTT'S PENS "it the CHICAGO EXPOSITOR.
A kV AICD : " For excellence of steel used in their
manufacture, it being tine grained and elastic ; super-
ior workmanship, especially shown by the careful
KrindinK which leaves the pens free from defects. The
tempering is excellent and the action of the finished
pens perfect." (Sinned) FRANZ VOGT,
(H. I. KIMBALL. Individual Jtldtre.
Approved--! Pres't Departmental Committee.
(JOHN BOYfi THACHER,
Chairman Exec. Com. on Airards,
CAE.D PRINTER/7?flE
hour. YOU can make 1000(7 witl1 ll- Afonto(
BrtttT type, also Indelible Ink. Type Holder, Pada
£nd XmeuM. Best Linen Marker; worth fl.OO.
Sample resiled FREE for lOc. sUmp* for posl^e on
L-J outfit an.l laree catalogue of lOOu Birp»in».
R.H. Ingersoll & Bro. 65 lortlandt St. N .1. City
1069
"Napoleon'
Handsome,
instructive
One of the nev
Parker
Game:
For Boys an
Girls.
"Innocence
Abroad,
" Waterloo,"
"Chivalry,"
"Yankee
Doodle.
ASK FOR THEH
SPRUCE GUM.
miniature Barrel of Pure Spruce Gum,
by mail, 10 cents.
Fern and Wild-Flower roots ; Birch hall; ; Tree fungi ;
Evergreen seedlings ; Balsam twigs for pillows, etc.
ADIRONDACK FOREST NOVEI/TY CO..
K.I IK Valley, New York.
Stamps,
CT fl IWIDO I 8»O fine irnaed Victoria, Cape of G
OlHIVIrO ! H.. India. Japan, etc. . with fine Stain]
Album, only 10c-. New 8o-p. 1'rice - list free
stftnls •na'iltJ M Ml % commission. STANDAHI
STAMP CO., 4 Nicliolsun Place. St. I.onis, Mo. Oh
U. S. and Confederate Stamps bought.
100 all dif. Venezuela, Bolivia, etc., only lOc.
jTffl •Jiili1ilhm.Iliivli,Hawilii,etc.,only5uc.Ag't
'"* w't'flatBnperctcom. List FREEI i:. A
Stegniann,fi941CoteBriliante,St.Loui8,Mo
10c. for 250 finely assorted foreigl
stamps, Cape of Good Hope, etc
,
Anv "rude "f approval sheets sent for -rood reference!
I.AWRICNCE TKOWBRIDGK, Palmyra, N. *
SEND for our Approval Sheets at 50$ commission. H
STONEBRAKER & Co., 192" Eutaw Place, Balto., Me
Comto return envelopes. Bleiebt of Htnd exposed.
List of 6"! gift.. Album of cards Send Zo stamp
I lor po«BSo. Addicsj flannel Canl Co., C»dU, Oluo.
[('afflicted with
SORE EYK
HARPER'S NEW CATALOGUE,
Thoroughly revised, classified, and indexed, will be sei
by mail to any address on receipt of ten cents.
I he Game of the Ring.
T''is game is well worth trying, even if it was
nown to France in Die eighteenth century T..
,lav this game there must be no more than nine in
be company. State that while you are absent
rom the room one of the company must slip a. ring
,n any joint of any finger he may choose Also
iutnbereachp'-i-" »s 1,2. 3, etc.; the right hand 1,
he left 2 the thumb i; index finger 2, second finger
,,etc.; the first joint of each finger-that is, at the
•xtremity— 1, the second 2, and the third 3.
For example: suppose that the fifth person has
be riii" concealed on the first joint of the fourth
inger of the left hand. To solve the problem it is
,ecessary to discover the numbers 5, 8,4, 1, which
s done as follows. Ask some one to double the
irst number, or that of the person (which will give
0) and to subtract 1 ; ask him to multiply the re-
nainder (9) by 5 (giving 45); next, to add the rium-
>er (8) and then 5 (which will make 58). Ask him to
louble this number (giving 104), and to subtract I
leaving 103); to multiply this remainder by 5 (giving
>15) and to add to this product the third number
41 Y,r that standing for the finger (which will give
119) Next ask him to add 5 (giving 534), and from
he double of the sum 11048) to subtract 1; to mul-
:iply this remainder by 5 (giving 5235), and to add
;o this 1, standing for the joint. In the last place,
isk him to again add 5. equalling 5841. The figures
af this number will indicate, in order, the number
expressing the person who holds the ring, and the
band finger, and the joint on which it was placed.
With a little practice you will be able to success-
fully gull your audience, having first given each
person a pencil and paper wherewith to make the
calculations. YINCKNT V M. BEEDE, R.T.F
* * *
A Prize-Puzzle Story.
When I was going to St. Ives, you know about
my meeting with that man who had seven wives.
Well, the man. wives, sacks, cats, kits, and the rest
were' coming from St. I ves, and, being interested,!
sat down by the road-side and asked the party
about their journey thither. And this is what the
man told me :
"It's a roundabout journey, tins one from M
Ives and queer things are to be seen on t.be way.
Why, we came through a county in North Caro-
lina (1) where nobody ever slept, and we saw on a
sign-board this :
•• 'Be cordial to all your fellow-beings. Just cor-
dial, and no more. Before counting them as friends,
be sure you can trust them, and are certain of their
true and generous confidence.'
Notice.— Take every ninety -ninth word in the
foregoing, arrange them in the order in which they
are written, and you will have a good maxim (3).
"We crossed a lake in Michigan (3) that belongs
to a drum corps ; a river of Spain (4) that school-
children play on astride a fence ; a river of France
15) that ought to be a prison ; through a county in
Scotland (6) that, bald-headed people should go to;
and through another county in Illinois (?) that one
could use to furnish his bouse with.
" We saw an island of Greece (8) that would not
hold water, and a lake in Minnesota (9) that would
not either, but you could play tennis with the lat-
ter Beside a lake in Scotland (10) that is always
the latest style, we saw another sign board bearing
this:
•"I will not go there. I don't care where i
If he asks me. I'll say no He is like a child in re-
gard to wisdom. Why, I never heard of the like 1
But I'll say no with perfect frankness.'
Notice —Certain words in this sign form an old
adage (11).
"A river in Russia (12) that is always all right
was so high w had to be ferried across, and the
boatman told us this :
"'A well known, useful guide am I;
1 am both far and near;
I travel fast, slow, up, and down.
To naught <!<> I ailli'-n-.
I'm daily sought, by rich and poor.
My home's ii'iih low and high;
I'm sometimes seen, and yet unseen,
Somi'tinifs in depths I lie' (13).
•- Not lining an island of Michigan (14) I was not
taken in bv his tali-, »nd guessed the answer quick-
er than river in Australia (15) believe I could— with
so many wives, ami river "f Cuba (16) children, not
one of whom is an inland off the Mexican coast (17).
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
One of my wives indulged in a game of island off
the ' 'uban coast (18). She lost heavily, and when I
i-hidfd her she was as short as pie crust made with
hike in Iowa (19), and she shut me up like a moun-
tain in Utah (20).
•• This last happened only yesterday. 1 tell you,
if the road to St. Ives is as bad as that from there,
you have no envious journey My wives have fall-
en to quarrelling. I see one river of Tennessee (8
another^ I must box their ears with the island of
Australia (88) of my hand. Good-day, sir."
As I resumed my journey to St. Ives I earlyVound
the prediction of the man of seven wives true.
Here is a sample of one of the guide-board signs :
"I once was seen in water, but by substituting
one verb for another I am now beheld on land "(23).
Do you wonder I never reached St. Ives?
In this story are four riddles and nineteen geo-
graphical names. Clews to the former are given,
and the latter are described in the text, the catch
being in the double meaning of the geographical
name. Four prizes are offered for best solutions :
$10 to the first, and $15 divided according to merit
among the next ten. Put your name, address, and
age at the top of the sheet, and write the answers,
one below another, numbering each. Post solution
not later than December 2, 1895. Address HAIIPER'S
ROUND TABLE, New York. Only persons may send
answers who have not passed their eighteenth
birthday, but grown persons may help you find
answers. Names of prize-winners, with correct
answers, will be published in HAUPEII'S ROUND
TABLE for December 31, 1895.
Answers to Kinks.
No. 106
1 Poppy. 2. Mayflower. 3. Boneset. 4. But-
ter-and -eggs. 5. Cardinal -flower. 6, Milkweed.
7 Sweet-william. 8. Jack-in-the-Pnlpit.. 9. Deer
Grass (dear grass). 10. Marigold (marry gold) 11.
Skull-cap 12. Lady's-tresses. 13. Dandelion (dan-
dy lion) 14. Black-eyed Susan. 15. Ragged sailor.
16 Wandering -jew. 17. Mint. 18. Dutchman'8-
breeches. 19 Pennyroyal. 20 Shamrock 81.
Bachelor's-buttons. 22. Tulips (two lips). S3. Hon-
eysuckle 84. Foxglove. 85. Lady's-slipper. 26.
Rose (rows). 27. Pickerel-weed. 28 Phlox (flocks).
29. Arrow-bead. GUACE V. BEDrNQEit.
2 FORRESTER STREET, SALEM. MABS.
Fruits in Old Jamaica.
Wild strawberries, just like those at home, grow
on the mountains in Jamaica, about 6000 feet up,
and ripen in June. Apples, small and green, but
making good sauce, are brought from the same
height, and are ready in July and August. Some
few peaches are grown up there also, and ripen in
June or July. Grapes vary in season, according to
the elevation at which they are grown; they be-
gin to be in market in July, coming from the low-
' Pineapples begin about the end of April, but
June is the best month for them. They are most
delicious here, as they are thoroughly ripe and soft.
Bananas and plantains (a large variety of banana
eaten only when cooked) are ripe all the year
round. The early oranges come in June, but are
not really in season until October, December be-
ing the best month for them. They last until
about March. Limes are in season all the year
round, some trees being ready at one time, some
at another. Melons are very poor here, very small,
and of poor flavor, as they have no good seed ap-
parently. They ripen in spring and summer Bil-
berries ripen from June till October ; and wild but
poor blackberries also. Both these berries grow
on the mountains from 2000 feet up.
Of tropical fruits the variety is endless ; some are
good, others we do not care for. Avocado pears
or alligator pears are pear-shaped, but look more
like green and brown fresh figs. The skin is peeled
off. and the pulp, which is green next the skin and
custard-color near the seed, is about like baked
custard in looks, and is eaten as a salad. The seed
i< very large, and confined in a loose outer husk.
These are ripe now, and continue a long time in
season.
1070
Genips or hog plums are round green balls about
the size of a large plum. The skin is hard, but
cracks easily and slips off, leaving the pulp, which
is like a grape's, and tastes a little like one. The
flesh sticks fast to the seed, and you can only suck
them, which is very tantalizing— but the tree holds
thousands. Rose apples are very pretty, light yel-
low, smelling like at tar of roses, and taste the same,
and are insipid when raw, but delicious crystal-
lized. They ripen in June. Granadillas are some-
thing like melons; they grow on a passion-flower
vine, and ripen at different times. The pulp is
sweet but rather tasteless, but combined with the
seeds which are enclosed it is good in a tart jelly.
Star apples are so called because when cut in two
the seed division forms a five-pointed star. They
are sweet, and ripen in spring.
Naseberries are dark brown inside and out. about
the size of a small peach, and with a rough skin.
The flesh is good, but sandy feeling to the mouth.
Gold apples are brilliant yellow; white pulp and
black seeds surrounded with jelly. Seeds and all
are eaten. Water cocoanuts are the green nuts
before the meat is formed inside. They are as
large as a man's head with the husk, and you cut
the top off with a machete, and drink the delicious
water, cool and sweet. Sour and sweet sops and
custard -apples are all more or less alike— sweetish
and rather flat. Some like them.
FIIBD L. HAWTHOUNE.
GARDEN HOUSE, KINGSTON, JAMAICA.
An excellent morsel. The Table thanks Sir Fred.
A Visit to a Marble-Mill.
Perhaps the Table will be interested in the ac-
count of a visit 1 made to a large marble-mill.
The block of marble, rough but regular, being in
position the cutiing begins. The saws, which are
lowered everyday to cut just so much on the block,
are held in a big wooden frame hung above the
marble These saws swing back and forth across
the block, gradually cutting into it. A 2^-inch pipe
above the saws pours a continual stream of sand
and water over the block.
The saws are kept going night and day. yet re-
quiring a week to saw a block 6 by 6 by 5 feet. The
saws ate strips of steel about 3 inches wide and 18
feet long, and do not cut more than 15 inches a day.
The blocks n-uallyare sawed into slabs 8 inches by
6 feet by 5. or blocks 1 by 1 by 5 feet. When the
sawing has been completed stone-cutters trim and
prepare the marble for shipment. An interesting
thing I saw was the marble for a pavilion in the
Woman's Exhibit at the Atlanta Exposition. Col-
umns, caps, and bases were being prepared..
The columns are first sawed out in blocks about
1 by 1 by 7 feet. Then they are turned on a lathe
until they are perfect though rough cylinders.
These are polished, first by rubbing sand over them
to take off the saw and lathe scratches, and then
with three different kinds of grit. After this they
are rubbed with a hone perfectly void of grit, and
polished with acid. The caps and bases are pre-
pared in the same way, excepting that the blocks
are of a different size (almost square, in fact), and
that they are turned into their respective shapes.
This mill is owned by the Tennessee Producers'
Marble Company. The marble quarries of Tennes-
see are the finest in the United States.
KNOXVILLH, TENNESSEE. JAMES MATNAKD, R.T-K.
Maut Corner.
Harold P. Daniels, 73 East 187th Street. New York,
collects beetles, and wants to hear from others in
the United States and Canada who do the same.
M. S. Newman, 722 East Ninth, New York, wants to
receive sample copies of amateur papers. Jessie
Loomis and Mabel Moreland, Box 156, Creston,
Iowa, publish Our Own Idea, an amateur paper of
much merit, and they want to exchange with other
amateur publishers.
Wallace Gibbs, Galva, III., publishes The Sunbeam,
a neat, eight-page monibly. lie offers to send us a
morsel on the experiences of an amateur publisher,
if we want it We want it, Sir Wallace. Send it
along. Tell us the discouragements, the plea-urc.
an. I the advantages. R. L. Miller, Jun., asks if an
autograph of President Diaz is wanted by the
Table. Yes, it is. Can you favor us with one?
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THE HALLOWEEN WITCH KS
BY MAMIE A. DBNTON.
MILDRED and Naomi Dean sat at op-
posite sides of a large room ; Naomi
with her lingers in her cars, and her elbows
vest in}; upon her knees, \\ liile Mildred gazed
out nf tlie window with dreamy eyes. The
two girls weve in search of ideas for a Hal-
loween party : they wen- t w in witches, born
on witches' night, or Halloween, and had
given regulation Halloween parties since
their babyhood. Now they wanted a change,
and after eagerly vending everything on the
subject that came within their reach, they
had finally decided to " think something
imt " themselves.
"It's nn use," Mildred exclaimed, sudden-
ly. "I can't think of a single tiling except
that we must have a party. Aren't you blest
with an idea yet, Naomi f" she shouted.
Naomi turned slowly, taking her fingers
from her ears. "Yes, I believe I am, but I
don't know how yon will like it. Why can't
we have the girls all come dressed as witches,
and then we can give a prize to the most !»•-
witching .'"
•'The very thing, you dear little conjurer.
That idea is worth elaborating, ami yon
know 1 just exist to elaborate your ideas.
Now wait till I finish my part."
Mildred ran to her desk, and was soon
deep in its mysteries — wonderful things had
been known to come from this desk. When
she finally arose she handed Naomi two neat
invitations, one of which read :
Miss NIXA PIM-SCOTT, — You are cordially
invited to attend a witches' party on the
night of the thirty-first. Each lady is ex-
pi-eii-d to represent a witch. A prize will
be given to the ugliest, and a ''booby''
prize to the most attractive witch.
Two WEIKD SISTEHS OF HALLOWEEN.
(Mildred and Naomi Dean.)
nil.
" Oh, "said Naomi, when she had read the
invitation, " it is too bad not to give the
prize to the most attractive witch.''
"No," replied Mildred; " witches are sup-
posed to be ugly, and I think the one who
wears the finest costume should pay theprice
of her own vanity. Now read the other in-
vitation."
Naomi read it slowly aloud :
Mit. ROY PHESCOTT, — You are requested to
art as one of tlm judges at a witches' con-
test oil the night of the thirty-first, at the
home of the Two WEIRD SISTEUS,
(Mildred and Naomi Dean.)
•• What do you think of my specimens?"
asked Mildred.
"I think they are very brilliant elabor-
ations," Naomi answered ; " but I must see
Nina, and caution her not to tell her brother
v\ hat she is going to wear. Yes. I am glad
that none of the rest are brothers and sis-
tei-B."
On the night of the thirty-first the home
ol t ho Deans was brilliantly lighted, and
the grounds were full of weird lights and
mysterious music. The hoys were the first
to arrive, and \Vere ushered into the front
IVORY 5 GAP
Those who think that imported soaps must be the finest, do not
know that the materials for Ivory Soap are the best to.be found any-
where. The vegetable oil of which Ivory Soap is made, is imported,
almost in ship loads, from the other side of the world.
THE PROCTER It GAMBLE Co. CiN'Tt
GRATEFUL-COMFORTING.
EPPS'S COCOA.
BREAKFAST-SUPPER.
" By a thorough knowledge of the natural laws which
govern the operations of digestion and nutrition, and by
acareful application of the tine properties of well-selected
Cocoa, Mr. Epps has provided for our breakfast and
supper a delicately flavored beverage which may save us
many heavy doctors' bills. It is by the judicious use of
I such articles of diet that a constitution may be gradually
built up until strong enough to resist even' tendency to
disease. Hundreds of subtle maladies are floating around
us ready to attack wherever there is a weak point. We
may escape many a fatal shaft by keeping ourselves
well fortified with pure blood and a properly nourished
frame." — Civil Service Gazette.
Made simply with boiling water or milk. Sold only
in half-pound tins, by Grocers, labelled thus :
JAMES EPPS & CO., Ltd.,
Homoeopathic Chemists, London, England.
's PEIIIDIULS.
Per Year:
HAKPEU'S MAGAZINE .......... PaMarje Fur, ft 0(1
HARPER'S WERKI.Y ...........
HARPER'S BAZAR ..............
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE .....
4 00
2 00
limik*rllerx nii'l rixtinaiiffri main/In rn-rife tubsmp-
linns. Ktitmcriiitimis *fnt direct to the publishers should
h, , ::,ni'iiiiir<i btl Posl-nfi,-f Motley Order or Draft.
HARPER & BROTHERS, New York, N.Y.
parlor, where they were commanded to stay
until invited to eonie out. The girls were
shown up stairs ton room where a card with
a large white niinilier upon it was pinned
to each co.sinnie. When the boys were ad-
initted to the hack parlor the witches were
drawn up in line with masks on, and num-
bers conspicuously displayed. The two
weird sisters, unmasked, and making no at-
tempt to conceal their identity, passed slips
of paper to each gentleman, and explained
that he must write the number of the one
who most nearly represented his idea of a
witch, and also the number of her whom he
considered the most attractive. One of the,
boys complained that this was not fair, as
they were not allowed to see the faces.
When the votes were counted, and the prizes
awarded, the signal was given, and the masks
were dropped, amid much surprise, laughter,
and applause.
The young lady who received the prize as
the ugliest witch proved to be one of the
most charming when unmasked, and the
"booby" was a perfect vision of loveliness
in a long red cloak and steeple-crowned hat.
She surveyed her pivtty face complacently
in the hand-mirror which was given as the
" booby " prize.
An impromptu programme was rendered,
in which the little "booby" recited "The
Elf Child," the "ugliest witch "and the "two
weird sisters" gave the witch scene from
.Miidii-lli, and several weird songs were snug
by different members of the company. The
rest of the evening was given up to fortune-
telling, witchcraft, and charms. The young
people voted the party a "grand success,"
and the two weird sisters the most bewitch-
ing of all the witches.
1071
collectors, and the E'lili-r will lie j.lea^ed to ansner any question on
these subjects ->i !"-ir in pns*ilplH. Correspondents ahoutd address Editor
Stamp Department.
HOW MANY OF US KNOW where Ipswich,
England, is ? An exhibition of stamps
has just been opened there which must be
fine, as English collectors value the stamps
exhibited at over $100,000. A few years
ago the New York collectors made au ex-
hibit at the Eden Musee on Twenty-third
Street, which probably called the attention
of thousands to the "old postage-stamp
craze," ami led to the making of hundreds of
ne\\ iceriiits in this absorbing hobby. Per-
haps the same collectors may make, another
exhibit If they obtain the assistance of
s e of the New England collectors the ex-
hibit would be one of the finest ever seen.
One gentleman in Maine has a collection
valued at over $200,000, consisting chiefly of
the great rarities.
A. T. D —A surcharged stamp is one which has had
a new value or somi' inscription printed on the faceof
the stamp. As a rule siamps of a high value are sur-
chnrgerl with a lower value. For instance, Ceyfon, in
Issfi, surcharged the 16, 24, 36, 48, and 64 cents anil
nilier stamps" Five Cents." These surcharged stamps
were then jr"oil for five cents only. Provisional
stamps .in- i hose which are issued in an emergency,
anil usually are surcharged stamps.
II. II. r. The coin dealers ask $3 each for the com-
monest dates ol the i|iiarler-eaL'le U.S. The scarce
dates are wunli niiit-li more. Yon do not give the
date nt youi coin
PHILATOS.
HAKPEE'S ROUND TABLE
TWO GLANCES FROM THE ELEVATED RAILROAD.
AT FIRST GT.ANOK OUR 1IKA UTS AOUK1>
TO 8KB 6UOH A 8WBICT L1TTLK GIRL SO
TfiRBIULY AFrl.IOTKU; BUT
A QUESTION.
WILLIE. "Don't the little Esquimau boys live ou oil?"
MAMMA. "Yes, Willie."
WILLIE. "And do they always have a big lump of sugar
after it for dessert ?"
" EARLY ENGLISH."
FKOM wise professors, Brother Ned,
In the college town,
Was learning "early English."
My! how it made him frowu !
While baby sister Annie
Cooed at home in glee,
In purest early English —
'Twas as easy as could be!
SOME Irishmen are naturally stupid, but their mistakes
are at times so humorous as to provoke a laugh, which
makes one forget the more serious part of the error. Re-
cently a son of Ireland went out rowing ou a lake at a
famous summer resort. A stiff northwest wind came up,
and not being skilful with the oars, in a short time his boat
shipped considerable water.
A brilliaut idea then seized him, and taking the butt end
of the oar he battered away at the planks in the bottom of
the boat, finally knocking a hole in them. Fortunately for
him a steam-launch with a pleasure party aboard came
along and rescued him as his boat sank. Upon being asked
why on earth he drove a hole through the boat, he replied :
"An' phwat else would yez do ? Sure the boat was half
full of water, an' so oi knocked a hole in the bottom to let
it out; but, yez see, there was so much more water in the
lake that the little bit of a stream in my boat had no
chance to get out."
SOME time ago I read a little anecdote of Longfellow
which illustrated his love for children. It seems that one
little fellow in particular was fond of spending his time in
the great poet's library. One day, after a long and patient
perusal of the titles (to him great cumbersome works) that
lined the shelves, the little chap walked up to Longfellow,
and asked in a grieved sort of way, "Haven't you got a
Jaclc the Giant Killer ?" Longfellow regretted to say that
in all his immense library he did not have a copy.
The little chap looked at him in a pitying way, and si-
lently left the room.
The next morning he walked in with a couple of pennies
tightly clasped in his rlinbby fist, and laying them down,
told the poet that he could now buy a Jack the Giant Killer
of his own.
WE hear of veterans
who have survived the
wars of years ago, but here
is a poor old veteran of
the civil war, and it is
claimed the only one liv-
ing of his kind. His name
is Ned, and he was cap-
tnred near Washington by
a scouting party from Gen-
eral Jubal Early's corps.
For years Ned has taken
part in the different me-
morial events and parades
of the G.A.R. But during a
recent parade in Louisville
his declining years pre-
vented his marching to the
stirring music of the bands.
It grieved the poor old
fellow's heart so that, as a
compromise, his comrades
provided him with a float,
upon which he mounted,
and was dragged through
the streets, his kindly old head nodding to the time of
the band. As yon have doubtless guessed, Ned is an old
war-horse, and it is said he has missed but one Decoration-
day parade, and has reached the ripe old age of forty years.
A SKOONP GLANCE RKVEAI.KI) THE RKAT. OWNKIl OF TH V. FRET
IN THE PKR8ON OF TI1K FOND PAPA, WHO WAS THUS SKOUR1NG
A FEW MOMKNT8 TO BEAU HIB PAPER.
MOTHEI; (to Albert, who came home from school looking very
blue). "Why, you appear unhappy, Albert. Didn't you learn
your lessons to-day ?"
ALBERT. "Oh yes, I learned not to be sassy!"
LITTLE Alice heard her father say that her Cousin Jack
has the small-pox, and exclaimed, " Oh, papa, I think it's
real mean of Jack not to send me any."
PAPA. "Jack, what are you crying about?"
JACK. "The conjurer at the circus to-day took five pi-
geons out of my hat, and kept them for himself."
TOM. "Papa, I want a bicycle."
PAPA. " Well, Tom, and what will you furnish towards
getting it t"
TOM (thinking deeply a moment). "I'll furnish the wind
for the tires."
KEPT HIS WORD.
To the pranks played by college boys there seems to be
no end, and Professors are still suffering as much as ever
from the undergraduate trick. An amusing tale comes
from Edinburgh, in this connection.
An examiner at Edinburgh University had made himself
obnoxious by warning the students against putting their
hats on his desk. The university in the Scottish capital
is remarkable for a scarcity of cloak rooms, and in the ex-
citement of examinations hats are, or used to be, iiuug
down anywhere.
The examiner announced one day that if he ever found
another hat on his desk he would rip it up. The next day
no hats were laid there when the students assembled.
Presently, however, the examiner was called out of the
room. Then some naughty undergraduate slipped from
his seat, got the examiner's own hat, and placed it on
his desk. When the examiner re-entered the hall, every
eye was fixed upon him. He observed the hat, and a
gleam of triumph shot across his face.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I told you what would happen
if this occurred again." Then he took his penknife from
his pocket, opened it, and blandly cut the hat in pieces,
amidst prolonged applause. What he said when he dis-
covered that he had destroyed his own hat the story does
not say.
1072
'SSS
y/
HARPEKS
ROUND TABLE
Copyright, 1895, by HARPKH A BROTHERS. All Rights Reset-veil.
,H
fUBUSHED WEEKLY.
VOT, XVI. — NO. 835.
NEW YORK. TUESDAY. OCTOBER 29, 1895.
FIVE CENTS A COPY.
TWO DOLLAH3 A TEA It.
ENGLISH ELIZA.
A HALLOWEEN STORY.
BY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH.
" VTTHAT was it that Obed saw ?" That question used
V I to be asked by chimney-corners in the great farm-
houses of an old New England neighborhood for many
years.
For Obed iu his boyhood on a certain last night of Octo-
ber, " when the moon was round," had seen a spectacle the
account of which tilled the minds of many good people, with
wonder and of simple people with terror. Even the cats
and dogs seemed to be uneasy when it was discussed in an
awesome tone of voice on old red settles, for such animals
seem to share the fears of their masters. " Come, now,
Obed is no fool," the work-people used to say.
"What do you suppose it was that he saw? It was
proper strange !"
Obed lived in one of the farm neighborhoods near Med-
tield.a town famous in King Philip's war. The place lias a
fearful legend of a family who were killed by the Indians,
and a very c'lirious story of a farmer who saved his family
at the time of the Indian attack by rolling out of the cellar
a barrel of cider.
It is a quiet town to-day, not a long ride from Boston.
It would delight a tired man nr an artist ; it is old-fasli-
ioued and full of rural beauty, a bit of old New England
left over, as it were. Great elms throw their cloudlike
shadows over the trim and well-kept roads iu summer-
time. The churches, the homes, the farms all show a his-
toric pride. Here great orchards once bloomed ; here the
Baltimore orioles still swing in the elms, and the bo bo-
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
links topple in the clover meadows. Here the lilacs still
bloom by door-yard walls, and tin- people draw water from
tbc round stone wells of the generations gone.
( >ln'il was a " bound boy," as an apprentice lad was called,
lie was " bound out," to use another old New England term,
to a certain Mr. Miller, who was a farmer and a cobbler. This
Mr. Miller was named Brister — Brister Miller — a surname
riot uncommon in colonial times.
A bound boy was one who was "let out" by his parents
or guardian or the " selectmen " to the service of another
fora term of years; really, a slave fora limited time. Bris-
ter .Miller had in his family a bound boy and a bound girl.
The girl's name was Eliza. She had come to Boston
from England. Her parents had died, and she Lad been
found a home on Brister Miller's bowery farm. Bound chil-
dren and buys and girls worked hard in the old times, and
had but few privileges. They were sometimes allowed to
goto the " General Training," and to share in the husking
frolics, and they were always permitted to listen for a time
after " early candlelight" to the stories that were told on
old red settles in cool weather by the open fires.
As Eliza had come from England she was called "Eng-
lish Eliza." She was a good-hearted, resolute girl. She be-
came a great friend to Obed, whom her warm heart pitied,
owing to her own bard and solitary lot.
It was the last day of October. There had been a warm
rain, which had kept Obed and English Eliza from the
husk heap. The weather had suddenly changed towards
evening. A chill had come down from the north, and the
family and work-people had gathered after supper around
the crackling fire. Mr. Miller sat shelling corn with a cob,
and Mrs. Miller began to knit by the tallow caudle.
The work-people told stories. These stories were of a
strange and exciting kind, and related to the times of the
Indian war, or to people with haunted consciences who
thought that they had seen ghosts. Young people listened
to such tab's in terror. English Eliza had never heard
these tales before or any narratives like them. She saw
that the ghost stories filled Obed with fear, and she pitied
Lim.
On this particular night, after a story had been told that
made Obed sit close to an older farm -hand, Mrs. Miller
paused in her work, and, lifting her brows, said,
" There, English Eliza, what do yon think of such (loin's
as that .'"
Eliza looked at Obed, and his fixed eyes and white tare
nerved her to make a very honest and resolute answer.
" I don't believe in ghosts, inarm."
"Why, Eliza f"
"Honest people never see Vm ; if they think they do,
they find them out. It is folks with haunted consciences
that see such things, inarm; folks with .something wrong,
or touched in mind, inarm. I wouldn't lie afraid to go right
into a grave-yard at midnight. Why should I! I never
did any one harm. This is an awful night to some folks in
England — those who fear a dealh fetch and have sins on
their souls. But to good people this is the merriest night
of all the year, except Christinas, only. It is Halloween,
marm."
What was the girl talking about ? A " death fetch,'' and
merrymaking and " Halloween."
Mrs. Miller dropped her knitting-work into her lap. The
cat, who seemed to feel that there was terror in the air,
leaped into the knitting. Mrs. Miller gave the poor scared
little animal a slap, and then looking Eliza straight in the
facr. said.
"'Li/a, do you speak true? Remember, 'Liza, that you
are a bound -nl."
"Never a word in jest, inarm. My folks were Lonest peo-
ple, marm, and 1 an honest girl."
"'Li/a, what is that awful thing that you told about —
thai death feu-hf"
"I hi Halloween a person goes into tlie church and says
a pra\er. and when lie conies out into the church-yard lie
sees all the' people who are going to die during the year.
An old sexton did it. and he saw himself, marm. A death
fetch is a warning, marm. There is no truth in such stories.
marm; my mother taught me never to believe 'em, marm,
and she was an honest, Christian woman, inarm, and she
used to say that a person who always did right had no-
thing to fear. I would believe my mother's word against
the world, marm. She died iu peace, inarm, and I want to
be just like her.1'
'; 'Liza, what is Halloween ?"
Brister Miller stopped shelling corn. The company on
the settle snuggled up close to each other, and the poor cat
nlleied a faint little " meow," and received another slap
from her mistress, which seemed to be comfort.
"Ghost night, marm. The night when good spirits visit
their friends, inarm. It is All-Hallow eve — the eve of All
Saints' day."
'"Liza, remember that you are a bound girl."
" I never forget it, marm."
" Now, tell the truth. What do they do on Halloween ?"
"They put apples into deep tubs full of water, and bob
for them with their heads, marm; and they puts 'em also
on sticks like a wheel, and bangs the wheel from the ceil-
ing, with a burning tallow candle on one side of the wheel,
and you catch an apple iu your mouth as the wheel turns,
ma mi. or else get smutched with the candle, marm, which is
more likely, and then you gets laughed at, marm. And you
pare apples, and throw the paring over your right shoul-
der, and it makes the first letter of the name of the man
that you are to marry, marm."
Mrs. Miller lifted her bands.
"And you eat an apple before a looking-glass, holding a
candle in your left hand, and the one you are to marry
comes and looks over your shoulder into the glass, marm.
And they tell you to find fern-seed, and you will become
rich, marm. But there ain't any fern-seed to be found,
marm. And they do lots of things."
"'Li/a, what do the saints Lave to do with such doiu's
as these ?"
"They like to see young folks enjoy themselves, I ex-
pects, marm."
" It is the ghost of the living that seem to come, 'Liza."
"All the more interesting, marm."
"Oh, 'Liza! 'Liza! such things bode no good! Mercy!
what \\ as Unit .'"
There came a succession of loud raps on the door.
"I hope that Halloween is not coming here," said Mrs.
Miller.
The door suddenly opened with a gust of wind. A tall
girl appeared out of breath, and said, "Please, Mrs. Miller,
Sirs. Hopgood's very sick. Ma wants to know if you'll let
Obed go for the doctor ?"
•• Yes, yes, yes. Obed, you put the horse into the wagon.
and go !"
"Yes," echoed Mr. Miller. "Obed, you go!"
Obed's face was tilled with pain and terror. English
Eliza saw the expression, and she understood it. Obed
stood up, but did not move.
" Why don't you go ?" said Mr. Miller, severely.
"It is that night!"
" What f"
" Halloween," he added. " And I'll have to go by the
way of the grave-yard."
English Eliza's heart, was full. "I'm sorry I said these
searry things, marm. Let me go with him, marm. I ain't
afraid of anything, marm, and I do not wonder (hat Obed
is afraid after such stories as they tell in this new country,
marm."
" Yes, 'Liza, you may go. I can trust you anywhere."
Obed's cords seemed to unloose, and his feet flew. In a
few minutes Obed and English Eliza were mounted on the
carriage seat, and were' soon speeding away towards the
doctor's, which was in the centre of the town.
"Now, Obed, you shall keep Halloween. Young people
iu England sometimes ride on this night by lonely places
just to test their courage. Obed, I believe that you Lave only
one' fault, and that is what my poor mother would have
called superstitious fear. I think it is wrong to tell such
stories to children as they have told yon in this country.
It will unman yon."
It was a still cool night. The wind after a changing
day had gone down. The moon hung high iu the heavens,
1074
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
now ami then shadowed by a fragment of a broken cloud.
The road was tilled with fallen leaves, which deadened the
sound of the wheels. The walnut-trees with their falling
nuts sent forth a pleasant odor, and there was a cidery
smell about the old orchards that here and there lined the
way. They emerged at last from a wood, and came into
full view of the old country grave-yard on the hill -side,
when something really surprising met their view.
Obed dropped the reins, and Eliza caught them. His
kuees began to shake, and he chattered, " Prophets arid
apostles !"
The horse trotted ou.
"Whoa! What is that?"
" I i<> lung !" said English Eliza, in a firm voice.
"T.uru round — quick, "said Obed.
" I can't, Obed ; the road is too narrow. And I am on
an errand of duty to a sick woman, and I will not do it."
"Eliza, it is awful. I shall go mad if you go on. My
brain is turning now."
The sight indeed was a wonder. As it appeared from
the road under the hill, a white horse arose from the grave-
yard on the bill-side, and stood on his hiud legs with his
forefeet in the air.
" He is pawing the sky," said Obed ; " never did any mor-
tal man see a sight like that. He is climbing a shadow. I
shall go crazy. Whoa!"
Eliza shook the reins, and said, firmly, " Go along!"
"Eliza, it must be that Halloween. My nerves are all
shakeu up. I've heard of white horses before. I tell you,
stop ! We'll get out of the back of the wagon, and run
home."
"Never!" said Eliza.
" Well, I am going, anyway." Obed leaped from the
wagon, exclaiming, " I'll give the alarm !"
"I am going for the doctor," said Eliza.
Obed flew. It was indeed a fearful tale that he had to
tell when he reached the farm-house. We think that
there seldom ever was heard a Halloween tale like that.
" It was a white horse, standing in the grave-yard, with
his hind feet ou the graves and his paws in the sky," said
he, " and under him was a shadow like a cloud, aud —
" But where is Eliza?" asked Brister Miller.
" She rode right ou after the doctor!"
"And you left her to meet such a sight as that!" said
Mr. Miller.
"She would do it; she's onerary. There was no need
that both of us should go for the doctor!"
Brister Miller called his hired people together, and they
alarmed the neighborhood. At midnight a company of
men had gathered before the house, who should go and see
what this remarkable story could mean.
" I always thought that the girl was rather strange,"
said Mrs. Miller. "There may be some witchery or other
about this Halloweeu."
Eliza, brave girl that she was, rode firmly towards the
hill-side grave-yard. As she came nearer to it the white
horse did not appear to be so large as when she first saw
it. It was indeed a horse, a live one; it had its forefeet
on the lower limbs of an old apple-tree, which limbs were
bent downward toward the ground. It was eating apples
off the high branches, reaching its long neck up to pick
them.
Horses are very fond of apples, and try in every way to
get into orchards when they have gained a taste for the
fruit. They have been known to uuhead apple barrels,
ami they will eat apples from the lower limbs of a tree,
and reach high for the apple limbs after the fruit ou the
lower limbs are gone. They like sour apples, and in this
way become cider drinkers.
Eliza stopped the wagon. She got out of it, and tied the
horse to a tree by the roadside. It was midnight — Hal-
loweeu. She thought of English merrymakings, of the
gaiiics with apples, of the curious old stories and songs that
she had heard on such nights as this in her girlhood. She
hurried past the graves and came to the white horse, aud
said, "Jack! Jack!" The horse seemed alarmed, let his
raised body down to the ground, snorted, aud trotted away.
Eliza stood there all alone at that still midnight hour.
The moon rode clear in the heavens now ; the woods
were still, and around her were graves. Did she believe in
spirits? Yes, in her mother's, and as soon as she thought
of that she recalled that she bad been sent for the doctor,
and that it was her duty to hurry on. Her heart would
have been light, but for her pity for Obed. He had indeed
proved a coward, but he had been wrongly taught aud
trained.
She rode to the doctor's house, roused the doctor, and
brought him back with her to the neighborhood, and left
him at poor Mrs. Hopgood's, and then rode home.
She was surprised to see a crowd of men before the door.
Obed stood among them. They awaited her coming in
intense interest, but in silence.
She got down from the wagon, saying, " Some one will
have to carry the doctor back again."
" Who will go ?" asked Mr. Miller.
There was no response. No one wanted to meet a white
horse with his body on a cloud aud " his feet in the sky " on
this mysterious night of Halloween.
" I will go," said Eliza, firmly.
" Yes, Eliza, you go," said Mr. Miller. " You are a brave
girl."
Eliza mounted the wagon seat.
Obed stepped up to her, and whispered, " Say, Eliza, what
was it T"
" I will never tell ; remember, now remember once for
all, for your sake, Obed, I will never tell. Yon played me
a mean trick, Obed ; but other people were to blame for it ;
you never had any one to teach you like my mother. For
your sake, Obed, left, as you are, all alone in the world, I
will never say another word. Now I have done my whole
duty, Obed, and, although I cannot trust you, I will always
be your friend."
Obed turned away.
" What did she say ?" asked the people.
" She said that she would never tell what she saw," said
Obed.
"I shall keep a close eye on that girl hereafter. There
may be witches, and she may be one. This is a very strange
night, this Halloween." So said Mrs. Miller.
Obed had received an arrow in his heart. " Although I
i-ininiit Inixl you," the words spoken by Eliza haunted him.
He went about a dull, absent-minded young man, and the
people attributed his sadness to the sight that he had seen
in the midnight ride.
Eliza was always very kind to him. She never spoke to
him of the night that he had deserted her but once. It
was ou the eve before she united with the village church.
"Obed, "she said, "I have something ou my conscience.
I owe it to you to say that what I saw on that Halloween,
niglit would never have harmed you or me."
This confession added to his depression of spirits. He
had indeed been a coward, and forfeited the trust of the
best aud truest heart that he had ever known.
The Revolution came. A new flag leaped into the air.
Obed had heard the cannon of Bunker Hill, and seen from
afar the smoke of the battle as it arose on the afternoon of
that fateful day.
There was a call for minute-men. A horseman came rid-
ing into Medtield, blowing a horn, and calling upon the
farmers to volunteer.
Obed started up at the sound. He knew what was
wanted.
He called Eliza out under the great elms.
"English Eliza, I am going. I shall never come back.
You will never see me again. I shall never come back.
Some one must die in this cause, aud who better than I ?
Coward you think me, but you do not know me. I am not
afraid to die. We were thrown upou the world together,
and I have thought well of you. Don't you remember how
we used to go sassafrasing with each other?"
" Yes, Obed."
"And looking for Indian-pipe when we were not looking
for anything ?"
" Yes."
"And picking blue gentians in the old cranberry mea-
dows ?"
1075
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
" Yes."
"And listening to the bluebirds when the maples were
red; and to the uiartiu birds when the apple-trees were in
bloom ; and to the red robins, and all?"
" Yes, yes."
" Aud we used to sing out of the same book ou Sundays."
" Yes."
"You remember; I do. Eliza, I want you to make me
one promise."
" I always thought well of you, Obed. I would die for
you."
"I am going away, aud I shall die for the cause. Some
day the news will come back to ye that I am dead ; that I
fell ou the field somewhere. I do not kuow where it. will
be. Will you forgive me, theu, for being a coward on that
Halloween night when I was a boy aud you was a girl ?
Promise me that now."
"I forgave you long ago. I believe you to be a brave,
true-hearted man, Obed. I think the world of you."
" But you don't know that I am not a coward. You will
kuow. Yon will forgive all, theu?"
"Yes; there is nothing between us now."
"'Yes,' you say. That word is all that I desire in this
world. I am now ready to go."
He fell righting bravely at Moumouth. Then English
Eliza for the first time told the story of the midnight ride
on Halloween, and what it was that Obed saw, and she
added in tears,
"But he was a brave man, Obed was!"
HER FIRST SEA VIEW.
SHE walked across the glistening sands,
Beneath the morning skies,
With tangled sea-weed in her hands,
And sunshine in her eyes.
Far off — as far as she could see —
The snowy surges beat,
And once — she laughed delightedly —
The water kissed her feet.
She tossed her pretty curly head —
Her lips, half-open buds —
"It's mermaids' washing-day," she said;
"The sea is full of suds!"
Then part in glee, and part in doubt,
Aud wholly in surprise,
She added, "When the wash is out,
I wonder how it dries?"
MARTHA T. TYLER.
HOW TO FIND AND MOUNT SIGNETS.
THERE is nothing prettier or more attractive, hanging
on the walls of one's parlor or chamber, than a group
of signet impressions in sealing-wax of various colors, ar-
tistically arranged and handsomely mounted; while the
SOAEAB.EU8.
SEAL OF CONFEDEUATE STATES.
pleasure to be derived in seeking them is quite as keen as
that which the coin or stamp hunter enjoys, without the
expense attached to them, for our seals cost comparatively
nothing. The outfit is simple, consisting of a dozen sticks
of sealing-wax in different colors — black, brown, red, gold,
white, and green, making a charming combination with
any other shades that take the fancy of the collector. A
light wooden or strong pasteboard box to carry the articles,
a box of matches, a white taper (cut in half for convenience'
sake), aud, later ou, a piece of stiff white card-board (10x22,
22x28 being good sizes) to mount them on.
Keep in the bottom of the box containing the wax a
dozen or more pieces of thick, white, unruled writing-paper
cut into ovals, circular, oblong, and square shapes, varying
iu size from one-half inch iu width to two inches in length.
This is all that is required. Now for our hunt. As you
meet friends and acquaintances notice their rings and
watch-charms. When any are discovered with a figure,
title, handsome monogram or initial ou it, borrow it, and
make your impression. This is accomplished by laying a
piece of your writing-paper, at least half an inch larger
than the seal to be used, on some smooth surface like a ta-
ble. Then take a stick of wax between the thumb and fore-
finger of the right hand. With the left hand light a match
or taper, aud bring them together just on the paper where
the wax melts sufficiently to drop freely, rub the end of the
sealing-wax quickly over the middle of the paper. Then
moistening the seal with the tongue to prevent the stone
adhering to the burning wax, press it firmly into the hot
bed prepared for it, a second or so, being careful to lift it
straight up when takeu oft', thus securing a clean edge. If
this is properly done a fine impression of your subject is
secured. Repeat this operation several times, taking dif-
ferent-colored wax for duplicates, which will enable yon to
make exchange with other collectors, who are unable to
get these same figures, but have others not in your collec-
tion.
In this manner one is able to secure rare aud beautiful
heads of men and women, animals, birds, and fishes. These
should be placed in a box by themselves carried for the
purpose — as fast as taken. When the writer started his
group, which was mostly made iu Washington, D.C., a few
of the young people met one evening at a friend's house
aud decided to begin together, which greatly enhanced our
amusement. Some one suggested we should assemble once
a week at each other's homes, and bring our friends with
us, so that all could see the impressions and make ex-
changes.
This was carried out an entire winter, and we found
such a course added immensely to our finds aud pleasure,
as there is no collecting that adapts itself better for club
purposes than this for both boys and girls. The capital
proved, too, a particularly good field for us, being full of
people who had seals gathered from all parts of the world.
English, French, German, Italian, and Spanish coats of arms
were found, besides quite a variety of exquisitely cut
heads iu antique rings, gathered from the tombs and curi-
osity shops of Greece, Italy, and Egypt. In most cities the
seals may be found in museums and private collections.
and as the act of making an
impression in wax is not in-
jurious to them, and requires
but little time, we found peo-
ple generally very willing
to allow it. When a sufficient
number of seals are gathered,
i.e., enough to fill a card-
board, they are mounted by
first marking the place where
they are to go faintly with a
lead -pencil. Begin by mak-
ing a square -cut line in the
centre of the board, a little
smaller than the writing-pa-
per which contain the seal im-
pressions. This is for the largest
of them, then, according to size,
graduating to the smallest.
KNIGHTS OF GOLDEN
CBOSS.
1076
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
The others may be clustered around the first, which
should have the most space about it, with at least an inch
of border. When the outlines are all drawn take a sharp
knife and, following the pencil marks, cut entirely through
the mounting-board.
The seals are placed in their proper position by cov-
ering the outer edges of the paper they are on with mu-
cilage and then pressing the card-board on to them,
taking care that the seal shows through the centre of the
cut space.
For a pretty effect, if the largest seal in the middle is
red, surround it by a circle of yellow ones, followed by blue,
gold, brown, and black, giving a harmonious whole. Some
collectors run a line of blue or red ink about the card-board,
with ornamental curves at the corners as a finishing
touch.
HOMER.
TBEA9CBY DEPT. CON. STATES.
Have it framed in some light wood, like ash, oak, or holly,
three and a half to five inches in width, with a glass over
it.
SEA RANGERS.
BY KIRK M U N R O E,
AUTHOR OF •' ROAD RANGERS." THE "MATE" SERIES, "SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES," "FUR-SEAL'S TOOTH," ETC.
CHAPTER IX.
THE RANGERS HAVE DEALINGS WITH PIRATUS.
\STHEX tiUe res* °f fie Rangers were awakened to the
V f fact that there were others on the island besides
themselves, they were so certain that Captain Crotty had
returned, and so excited over the prospect of being rescued
from their unpleasant situation, that but for Will Rogers
they would have rushed to the beach at once with shouts
of welcome.
"Hold on, fellows," he said, in a low tone. "I don't be-
lieve the skipper is down there, for, you know, he never
swears — at least we never heard him — while those men are
swearing like pirates. The rest of you wait here while
Hal and I slip round to that far point, where we can get
close to them without being discovered. Come on, Hal."
The other boys were not at all satisfied with this ar-
rangement, however, and the two scouts were hardly out
of sight before Mif Bowers said :
" Look here, fellows, I don't see why we should be left
behind doing nothing. We are just as anxious to know
who those men are as anybody. Besides, supposing they
should go off before Will and Hal got to the point. Then
we'd be as bad off as ever, and I, for one, am too sick of this
plaguey island to be left on it any longer. So I'm going to
sneak down a little closer, and make sure they don't get
away without our knowing it."
As the speaker started to carry out this intention the
others followed him. Only little Cal Moody, who was
afraid to go, and almost equally so to stay alone, remained
behind. The others had not got more than half-way to
the beach before they saw a tall figure coming directly
towanl them.
" Lie low, fellows !" whispered Mif Bowers, throwing him-
self flat amid a growth of bayberry and sweet-fern. The
rest of the boys instantly followed his example, and the
approaching figure had almost passed them without dis-
covering their presence, when it stopped to listen to a
sound of pattering feet and an anxious voice calling in
suppressed tones: "Mif! Fellows! Wait for me!" The
next moment little Cal Moody ran with a startled cry
plum]) into the stranger's arms.
"Hello!" cried the latter. "What's this? Who are you?
and what are you doing here? Answer me instantly, you
young rascal, or I'll throttle yon."
" Please, sir, I didn't mean any harm," gasped poor Cal,
frightened nearly out of his senses. " I'm only a Road
Ranger — I mean a sea — That is, I'm only a boy, and the
others left me behind, and I got scared, and was looking
for them. But I'll go right back, if you'll only let me go."
"So there are others, are there?" remarked the stranger,
at the same time keeping a tight hold of Gal's arm. " Who
are they ? and where are they ?"
"Only boys, sir, like me, and we're camping out, and
waiting for Captain Crotty to come for us, and we've drunk
up all our water, and are 'most out of everything to eat, so
we thought, perhaps, you —
"Where is your camp?" interrupted the stranger.
" Right back here a little way."
"Then come along and show it to me."
So Cal and the stranger started toward the teut, and the
hidden Rangers crept after them to see what was to be
done with their youngest member; only Cracker Bob
Jones sped swiftly away in the direction taken by Will
and Hal to notify them that the camp was discovered, and
bring them back to its defence in case the new-comers
should prove aggressive.
As Will and Hal were moving slowly, and with all the
caution of scouts approaching an enemy's camp, Cracker
Bob overtook them before they reached the point toward
which the}' were making their way ; and, on learning of
the new turn of affairs, they hastily retraced their steps.
By this time daylight was appearing, and when the
Ranger scouts ueared their camp they saw the other boys
gathered about a strange man, who did not appear either
ferocious or inclined to enmity. In fact, they were all chat-
ting and laughing in the most friendly manner.
As the three late comers approached, the stranger stepped
forward, and extending his baud said, " So this is Captain
Will Rogers is it? I am happy to meet you, my lad, and
glad that I am in a position to offer you some assistance out
of your present difficulty. My name is Baugwrll, Zenas
Baugwell,at your service, and I am the owner of this isl-
and, having recently purchased it. I am about to erect a
summer residence here, and have just run over from New-
port in my yacht Whisper, for the purpose of selecting a
building site, getting acquainted with the harbor, and so
forth. The season being so well advanced, I have got to
hurry things, and took advantage of the calmness of the
night to strip my yacht of her interior fittings, and fetch
them ashore, as I intend to bring over my lumber and sup-
plies in her. Now I am about to return to Newport, which
is, as you doubtless know, only a couple of hours' run from
here, and if you want to take passage with me I shall be
most delighted to have you do so, especially as my young
friend here tells me you are all good sailors. That will
enable me to leave my crew behind, to begin clearing a
place for the foundation of my cottage."
"But," said Will Rogers, doubtfully, "«e arc expecting
some one —
"Oh!" interrupted the glib stranger, "I forgot to say
that I met your friend, Captain Crotty, who was forced to
take his sloop, the MHJyirl, to Newport for docking, and as
he cannot be ready for sea under several days, he begged
me to bring you back with me, always supposing that you
were ready to leave the island. Now as I am in a great
1077
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
hurry to be off, for I hope to go to Newport and return to
this place again before night, I inns, ask yon to gather up
your traps as quickly as possible, while f return to the
beach and have a boat got ready to take us to the yacht,
•where you will find breakfast waiting, and, of course,
plenty of fresh water. You need not bother to bring any-
thing except your personal belongings, as I shall make
Captain Crotty a handsome offer for the camp as it stands,
to be used by niy workmen. In five minutes I shall be
ready."
Thus saying. Mr. Bangwell took his departure, waving
his hand pleasantly to the boys as he went.
"Isn't this the biggest kind of luck?" cried Mif Bow-
ers. " 1 tell you what, Will, you are altogether too sus-
picious. Now, I didn't think those chaps were pirates or
anything of the kind from the very first."
" Well," replied the Ranger Captain, " it may be all right ;
but I'm not wholly satisfied yet, and I don't know as we
ought —
" Oh, yes, we ought, fast enough," interrupted Mif Bow-
ers. " We'd be great fools if we didn't take this chance,
when Captain Crotty has sent for us too. Anyhow, I for
one am not going to stay here any longer to die of thirst,
let alone hunger."
" Nor I," and "Me, too," shouted others.
So Will yielded to the voice of the majority, and busied
himself with rolling np his blankets. If he had not been
so very thirsty he might still have argued the question,
but no argument could prevail against a vision of the
yacht's water-tanks. And, after all, Mr. Bangwell's story
was very plausible. If at that moment he could have been
present at au interview on the beach between the stranger
who had just left them and several tough-looking men who
had suspended their work to gather about him, the young
Ranger's misgivings would have been replaced by certain-
ties of a very disquieting character. The speaker was say-
ing:
" You see, mates, I suspicioned that some of the kids we
heard of as camping out on this island might still be here,
so I just strolled up to have a look. Sure enough, I found
them, or, rather, another lot, I take it, who arc waiting here
for some craft to come along and take them off. They
are green as grass, though, and I pumped them dry in a
hurry. As quick as I found that they are as anxious to
get away from here as we are to have 'em, I faked up a
yarn about having just bought the island, and being in a
hurry to get back to Newport in my yacht for supplies.
They claim to be first-class sailors, though, between yon
and me, I don't believe they know enough to navigate a
scow at anchor. It gave me a lead, though, and so I in-
vited them to help me sail the yacht over to Newport,
while niy crew — you fellows, you understand — staid behind
to begin building operations. They jumped at the chance,
and will be down in a minute with their plunder. So we
•want to be ready for them, and set 'em aboard at once
without giving them a chance td examine any of this
stuff." Here the speaker pointed to a miscellaneous pile
of boxes, barrels, and bales, with which the other men had
been busy.
"I'll sail far enough with them to get 'em well started,"
he continued, " and then give 'em the slip some way, and
I don't believe they'll know enough to get back again, even
if they want to. So we'll get rid of them, and the yacht,
too, before the schooner comes, as well as throw any craft
that's hunting us off our track, till we've had plenty of
time to get clear, for they're certain to sight the yacht and
follow her. Oh, it's a fine graft, and we want to work it
for all it's worth! So, Scotty, yon take the yawl up to the
far end of the beach, and I'll take the gig, while you other
fellows lie low till we are off."
The plan thus arranged was carried out to the letter,
and ten minutes later the Sea Rangers found themselves
once more atioat in a natty schooner-yacht, evidently brand
new, with Mr. Bangwell at the wheel, and the gig towing
astern, while the second boat was being rowed back to the
beach by an evil-looking man, who answered to the name
of "Scotty."
In his haste to be off, Mr. Bangwell had not waited to get
up the anchor, but had slipped the cable, saying that he
could pick it up on his return.
The yacht was not more than a mile outside the harbor,
and Mr. Bangwell was just informing Will Rogers that the
course for Newport was east by south half south, when the
former noticed a dingy-looking schooner approaching them
from dead ahead. Without drawing attention to her, he
exclaimed:
" By-the-way, boys, breakfast is ready in the cabin, so
just tumble down and pitch in without waiting for me.
I'll steer till one of you can come up and take the wheel."
The Rangers having quenched their thirst immediately
on getting aboard, were feeling more than ever hungry,
and so needed no second invitation to breakfast. Thus in
another minute Mr. Bangwell had the deck to himself. With
a muttered excuse for so doing, which the boys only heard
indistinctly and heeded not at all, he drew the companion-
hatch and closed the cabin doors. Then he lashed the
wheel in a certain position, cast loose the painter of the
gig, slipped into the boat, and rowed rapidly away toward
the on-coming schooner, leaving the yacht to take care of
herself.
CHAPTER X.
CAPTURED BY A MAN-OF-WAR.
THE breakfast that the boys found awaiting them was
not particularly inviting, as it consisted principally of a big
pot of muddy coffee, a pan of hardtack, and a dish of cold
bacon. Still, they were too hungry to be dainty, and so
pitched into it with a right good-will.
"My! I should think he had stripped her,'' said Hal
Bacon, gazing about the dismantled cabin. " It's a shame,
too. The idea of carrying lumber in such a fine craft as
this!"
" Yes. Isn't she a beauty ?" cried Cracker Bob Jones, ad-
miringly. "I'd like to cruise in her for a month. If Cap-
tain Crotty isn't ready for us, suppose we offer to help bring
her back to the island again."
"I wouldn't mind taking a cruise in her," acknowledged
Will Rogers, "if only Captain Crotty or some other first-
class sailor was in charge, but somehow I can't wholly trust
I his Mr.—
" Oh, pshaw, Will !" cried Mif Bowers. " If you ar-en't the
most suspicious chap I ever knew. The man is trusting
us. and I don't see why we shouldn't trust him. Besides,
what could he do, anyhow, against so many of us ? Why,
we could take possession of this yacht and run away with
her if we wanted to."
"Who'd sail her if we did?" asked Will, laughing at the
idea of his Rangers turning pirates in that way.
"Why, we would, of course. I rather guess we know
enough by this time, after all the experience we've had, to
sail a boat of this size. I know I would, anyhow."
Just here there came such a tremendous flapping of sails,
thrashing of ropes, and banging of blocks from overhead
that the boys made a rush for the deck to see what was up.
To their dismay the cabin doors were not only closed but
locked. In vain did they pound, kick, and shout to be re-
leased. There was no answer to their cries, though the
terrifying racket overhead continued with increasing vio-
lence.
" Something serious has happened," shouted Will Rogers,
with a very pale face. " Perhaps Mr. Bangwell has fallen
overboard, and a squall has struck us. Anyway, we must
break open these doors."
But the doors were stout, and for several minutes resist-
ed their utmost efforts. Finally, however, they gave way,
and the boys poured on deck. By this time the alarming
noise had ceased, for the yacht, which had thrown her head
into the wind, had again tilled away and resumed her course
of her own accord.
The Rangers gazed about them iu bewildered amaze-
ment. There was no trace of the man whom they had left
on deck, nor of the boat that had towed astern.
"He must have fallen overboard and got drowned." said
little Cal Moody, in an awe-struck tone.
"He must have deserted us and gone off, though I can't
understand why, nor see where he has gone," answered Will
1078
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Rogers, as he mechanically stepped to the wheel anil cast
ott'its lashing. "There is something wrong about this whole
business, and we are left in a pretty pickle. Now the ques-
tion is what shall we do about it?"
"Go back to the island and wait for Captain Crotty,"
suggested several.
•• Keep on to Newport," advised others.
"But we dou't know where it is, "objected Sam Ray.
•• I'd run for the nearest land."
" And he wrecked again. Not much."
"We could anchor wheu we got near shore."
" No. we couldn't, 'cause we haven't got any anchor.
Don't you remember we left it behind?"
"That's so. Well, then, let's keep ou till we meet some
vessel, and then ask where Newport is."
•• We know the course to Newport," suggested Mif Bow-'
er.s, " for I heard him telling you, Will."
" Yes," admitted the latter. " He told me that Newport
lay east by south half south, but I dou't believe it. In fact
I think it lies just the other way."
"All right, then; let's go that way."
As it seemed to be the general opinion that this was the
best thing to he done, Will Rogers, who was gradually get-
ting the hang of the unaccustomed wheel, brought the yacht
close on the wind, and ordered all sheets trimmed flat. This
much ho had learned on board the Hillyirl. By thus do-
ing, he could lay a course a little north of east, which he
hoped would take them to the vicinity of Newport.
The others discussed their situation, the disappearance
of Mr. Bangwell, and the probable ending of this most re-
markable cruise with unwearied tongues. They still be-
lieved themselves to be good enough sailors to handle the
yacht, and take her anywhere they chose. At the. same
time they devoutly hoped that fair weather would hold
until they reached aome safe harbor, and earnestly wished
for the sight of one.
In the mean time Will Rogers was puzzled to account for
his inability to keep the yacht ou her course. She persist-
ently fell oft" frbm it, and seemed to he making leeway al-
most as fast as she did headway, although a good breeze
was Mowing. "There must be a tremendous current," he
said to himself, "and I guess I'd better head the: other
way."
80, in imitation of Captain Crofty's well - remembered
order, he sung out, " Ready about '" and then put the helm
hard down. He did not, however, remember to slack his
head-sail sheets, and none of the others remembered it for
him. The yacht shot up into the wind all right; hut
after hanging there for a minute with slatting sails, she
gracefully tilled away again on her former tack. She had
missed stays. Again and again Will tried to get her about,
but failed in every instance.
Now, for the first time, the Rangers began to grow
alarmed, and to realize that something was lacking in their
knowledge of seamanship. Their craft would sail all
right where she chose to go, but not where they wanted her
to.
"I never heard of a boat acting this way !" cried Will
Rogers, finally, and in utter despair.
" Let me try," said Mif Bowers ; and, glad to share his
responsibility, Will released the wheel.
Mifflin met with no better success than Will, and not
only that, but became so badly rattled by a sudden puff
that heeled the yacht over until her lee rail was under
water, that he let go of the wheel in terror, yelling to Will
to take it before they were capsized.
Eveu their hoped-for assistance from other craft failed
them ; for, though several, all evidently yachts, approached
at different times during the day, they all sheered off wheu
HIM i1 enough to distinguish the signals fluttering from the
Whixficr's mast-heads.
So the unhappy Sea Rangers, growing more and more
terrified with each passing hour, sailed all day without
making any land or being able to hail a single vessel. By
nightfall they were enveloped in a thick fog, the wind had
whipped round and was blowing half a gale from the east-
ward, a heavy sea was running, and most of the boys were
so prostrated by sea-sickness that they no longer cared
whether they lived or died. Just before dark Will Rogers
and little Cal Moody, who were the only ones not affected
by sea-sickness, lowered all the sails, and managed clumsily
to secure them.
None of the Rangers had ever dreamed of anything so
awful as the long hours of darkness that followed, during
which their craft drifted, rolling and pitching furiously,
and utterly at the mercy of wind and wave. At length,
after what seemed an eternity of darkness and terror, Will
Rogers, who, with little Cal cuddled close beside him, was
half dozing with utter weariness in the cockpit, was roused
into a sudden activity by the unmistakable boom of break-
ers close at hand.
"Hello, fellows!" he yelled, springing to his feet, "tumble
up here in a hurry and make sail or we'll he lost. We're
almost on the rocks now!"
This thrilling summons was sufficient to banish even
sea-sickness, and a few minutes later the yacht, under
mainsail and jib, was slowly drawing away from the dan-
gerous though still unseen reef.
Some hours afterwards a hot sun, scattering the sullen
fog-hank, poured its cheery rays over the haggard-looking
Rangers, who, in various attitudes of utter misery, occupied
the wet decks of the yacht. All at once they sprang to
their feet with shouts of dismay and terror, for, out from a
low hanging bank of mist, that was slowly rolling away
astern, there came a flash as of lightning, and the thunder-
ous roar of a heavy gnu. At the same moment, as though
it had been cloven in twain by the shot, the fog opened and
a United States man-of-war, snow-white and gleaming in
the sunlight, loomed up directly behind them, terrible and
yet grandly beautiful in its on-rushing majesty.
The Rangers gazed at this bewildering apparition in
speechless terror, fully expecting that another minute
would see them run down and crushed like an egg-shell.
As the monster dashed up abreast of them, at the same
time slackening her speed wilh reversed engines, an officer,
hailing from the bridge, demanded to know the yacht's
name.
" Jl'liiaper .'" shouted Will Rogers, recovering somewhat
his self-control.
" What do you mean by that, you impudent young pi-
rate ?" roared back the officer, angrily. "Why don't you
heave to? Heave to, sir, at. mice, or it will be the worse
for yon.''
" \Ve don't know how," sang back Will, while all the
others trembled in their bare feet, and almost expected to
receive a broadside from the gleaming guns that grinned at
them not a stone's-throw away.
"Then lower your sails and come to anchor, while I send
a boat aboard," shouted the officer, as the great white ship
glided by.
The yacht's crew could not anchor, but they let down
their sa.ils by the run, and a few minutes later were ap-
proached by a boat from the man-of-war, bearing a brass
howitzer in its bows, aud manned by a lusty crew of bine
jackets.
"Way enough! Oars!" commanded a voice from the
stern of the boat, as. it dashed alongside, aud at the sound
every Ranger was thrilled as though by an electric shock.
In another moment they had rushed forward, and were
overwhelming with their clamorous welcome the younger
of the two officers who had just gained the yacht's deck.
"Mr.Barlow! Sir! I am amazed. What is the meaning
of all this?" demanded the elder officer, steruly.
To this Billy Barlow, Ready Ranger, and naval cadet, just
now attached to the United States practice-ship liancroft,
made bewildered answer: " Why, sir, they are not pirates,
after all, but my own schoolmates from Berks. I know
every one of them, and can vouch for their character as for
my own."
"Then, perhaps," said the lieutenant a little less sternly,
but still with a decided trace of suspicion in his voice,
"yon can explain how they happen to be in possession of
the yacht Blue Billow, which was stolen from her anchor-
ago in the East River by a gsing of thieves four days ago,
and run off with the most valuable cargo of plunder ever
taken out of New York city. If you or they can explain
1079
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
'ANSWER ME INSTANTLY, YOU YOUNG RASCAL, OR I'LL THROTTLE Yol
tliis satisfactorily, well anil good. If not, it is my duty to
clap them in irons, and convey them aboard the ship as
prisoners."
"I think I can explain the situation to your satisfaction,
sir," said Will Rogers, boldly, "though tb is is the first we
Lave beard about thieves or stolen g Is."
The officer listened with closest attention to Will's story,
and when it was finished, he said, with a smile: "Well.
young gentleman,! am very much inclined to believe you,
and am very glad to be able to carry back such a favorable
report to our commanding officer. Mr. Barlow, you will
remain, with two uieii, in charge of the yacht. Make sail
and stand off and on within easy hail of the ship."
As soon as the Lieutenant had departed, and Hilly Barlow
li:nl <-avried out his instructions, tin- naval cadet was over-
whelmed by a torrent of questions from the bewildered
Rangers.
Why did he call this yacbt Blue Billoir when her name is
Whisper? How did a man-of-war happen to be sent after
her? How did you know where to find us? etc., etc.
"Because," answered Billy Barlow, laughing, "she be-
longs to Admiral Martin, who has only just built her. He
named her after your play, which he happened to see in
Chester; and when she was reported stolen, we got orders
to Keep a lookout for her during our cruise down the Sound.
We heard of you yesterday evening from several yachts-
men, who had recognized your flag; but thinking you were
a lot of pirates, had no desire for a closer acquaintance.
It's big luck, though, that I happened to be along to iden-
tify you, for our first lutf is in a towering rage at your sup-
posed insult iu telling him to whisper
when he hailed you."
The yacht was shortly hailed agaiu,
and ordered to follow the Bancroft to the
vicinity of the island on which the Raug-
ers had so recently camped, and which, to
their great surprise, they now learned
was not more than a couple of miles away.
As they sailed toward it, with Billy-
Barlow at the wheel, he asked Will Rog-
ers how it happened that he had been
trying to sail close hauled with his cen-
treboard up.
" Why," replied the Ranger Captain,
"I never thought of that, and don't be-
lieve 1 should have known what to do
with it if I had, for, you see, the Millijirl
didn't have any centreboard, and so we
didn't learn about it.''
" Which shows," remarked Billy Bar-
low, sagely, " that it isn't safe to go to
sea, especially in command of a vessel,
without a previous and pretty extensive
experience in various styles of craft."
"And after you've got your extensive
experience, perhaps you won't ever want
to go to sea again," laughed Will Rogers.
"At any rate, that's the way I feel now."
" I don't care whether you call it ex-
tensive experience or .sea - sickness,"
chimed in Mif Bowers, "but I know I've
had enough of it to last me a lifetime."
"Last night I promised myself that if
ever I set foot on dry land again I'd stay
there, and I mean to keep my promise,
too," announced Cracker Bob Jones, with
an expressive shake of the head.
" I think," said little Cal Moody, " that
I'll resign from the Sea Rangers, for I
don't seem to care as much about being
one as I did "
And this was the opinion of the entire
wet, ragged, dirty, barefooted, sunburned,
hungry, and generally disreputable look-
ing crew of the yacht Blue Billoir.
At the island they found the Millyirl,
with poor Captain Crotty almost be-
side himself with anxiety. He was so
overcome with joyful emotion at the safe reappearance of
his missing charges that, as they thankfully scrambled
aboard the old sloop, he could only exclaim, " Waal, I'll be
Mowed!"
He had met a dingy old schooner sailing out of the har-
bor as he entered it, and described her so minutely that the
commander of the Bancroft decided to go in pursuit of her
at once. This he did, ultimately capturing her, with Mr.
liangwell and his pals, together with all their plunder, in-
cluding the handsome fittings of Admiral Marliu's yacht on
board.
The Blue Billow was sent to New York iu charge of prize-
master William Barlow and a picked crew of seamen, while
the sturdy old Millyirl bore, her picked crew of landsmen,
\\ ho no longer had the least desire to become seamen, safe-
ly back to Berks.
Here, after showing up at their respectives homes, the
Rangers met in special session at Range Hall for the pur-
pose of giving honorary member Pop Miller a full account
of their recent expedition. The little old gentleman list-
ened with absorbed attention, and when the tale was con-
cluded he exclaimed :
" Mai-maids, mutiny, shipwreck, cast away on a desolate
inland, hungry, thirsty, kidnapped, pirates, lost at sea, cap-
tured by a mau-o'-war, and safe back home, all inside of one
week, is a record what I don't believe ran be beat by any
other lot of Sea Rangers in the hull world" — which conclu-
sion is fully shared by every member of the Ready Rangers
of Berks.
Tin: KXD.
I 0-0
OAKLEIGH.
BY ELLEN DOUGLAS D E L A X D.
CHAPTER XIX.
IT was four years later, and it was again tlio day before
Christinas.
Cynthia sat in her own room by the bed, which was
covered with presents in various stages of completion;
some tied up and marked, ready to be sent, others only
half finished, and one or two but just begun. Bob, as
usual, lay at her fret.
"There!" cried she, as with a loud snap her needle
broke for the third time; "there it goes again. I believe
I'll give up this wretched frame and all the other things
that are not finished, aiul go to Boston this morning. I'll
just buy everything I see, regardless of price."
"You would never get near the counters, the shops are
so packed," observed Edith, who was hovering over a
table full of lovely articles on the other side of the large
room. "Just send what you have, Cynthia, and let the
rest go. You can't possibly fin-
ish them in time. You give so
many Christmas presents."
"Oh, it's all very well for
you, with all those wedding-
presents and the Christmas
things you'll h.-ivc besides, to
think other people won't want
them! You don't take half as
much interest in Christmas as
usual this year. Edith, just he-
cause you are going to lie mar-
ried so soon. Now I should
never change about Christinas
if I were to be married forty
times — which I hope I sha'n't
he. In fact, I've about made up
my mind never to marry at all."
"Nonsense! I think I used
to say that myself when I was
as young as you are."
"And you're just two years
older, so according to that you
were saying so this time two
years ago, which was not by
any means the case, for you
were already engaged to Dennis
then ! In fact, I don't believe
you ever said it. Oh, another
needle! I'm too excited to
work, anyhow. What with
weddings and Christmas and
the boys coining home, I am ut-
terly incapable of further exer-
tion."
She tossed the unfinished
photograph-frame across the bed
and leaned back in her chair.
Then she began to gather up
her work materials. Finally
she moved restlessly to the win-
dow.
"It is beginning to snow.
I hope the boys won't be block-
ed up on the way. Wouldn't
it be dreadful?"
" I suppose you mean Neal.
Of course Jack cau get out from
Cambridge. Ah, here comes
Dennis!1' and Edith hastily left
the room.
"Dennis, Dennis — always
Dennis!" said Cynthia to her-
self. "I wonder if I could ever
become so silly? Certainly I
never could about Dennis Mor-
gan, though he is a dear old
fellow, and I'm very glad I'm going to have him for a bro-
ther-in-law."
Cynthia stood for some time at the window, looking out
at the swiftly falling Hakes which were already whitening
the ground. Bob stood beside her, his fore-paws resting
on the window-sill. He belonged to Cynthia now ; but
she patted his head and whispered in his ear that his
master was coming, which made the black tail wag jov-
fully.
Four years had, of course, made considerable change in
Cynthia; and yet her face did not look very much older.
Her fearless blue eyes were just as merry or as thoughtful
by turns as they had always been — at this moment very
thoughtful ; and the pretty head, with the hair gathered in
a soft, knot at the back, drooped somewhat as she looked
out on the fast-gathering snow.
She was wondering how Neal would be this time. Dur-
SUE WAS JUST COMING DOWN THE BKUAD OLD STAIRCASE.
1081
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
ing his last visit he had seemed different. She wished
that people would not change. Why was one obliged to
grow up? If they could only remain boys and girls for-
ever, what a lovely place the world would be! She had
hated to have Edith become engaged, and now in two
days she was going to be married and leave the old home
forever. To be sure, she was to live in Brentoii, in a dear
little house of her own, but it would not be the same thing
at all.
Of one thing Cynthia was sure. She would never many
and go away from Oakleigh ; she would stay with her
father and mother forever. The next wedding in the fam-
ily would be either Jack's or Janet's. Jack had overcome
his shyness and become quite a, "lady's man," and as for
Janet — but just then the young womau in question came
into the room.
She was eleven years old now, tall for her age, and with
her hair in a " pig-tail," but the roguish look in her eyes
showed that, like the Janet of former times, she was ever
ready for mischief.
She carried a pile of boxes in her arms, and was fol-
lowed by Willy, who staggered under a similar load, and
by Mrs. Franklin, also with her arms full.
"More wedding-presents," J_anet announced. "Edith
and Dennis have been looking at them, and they sent them
up for you to see and fix."
As she uttered the last words one of the boxes slipped,
and away went a quantity of articles over the floor —
spoons, forks, gravy-ladles, and salt-cellars — in wild confu-
sion, cards scattered, and no means of telling who sent
what, nor in which box anything belonged.
"Janet," groaned Cynthia, "if that isn't just like you!
You ought to be called 'The Great American Dropper,' for
everything goes from you."
"Never mind," returned Janet, cheerfully. " Willy, you
pick them up while I see who's coming. I hear wheels.
It's a station carriage."
" Is it ?" cried Cynthia. " Can it be already ?"
"It's Aunt Betsey," was Janet's next piece of informa-
tion.
"Oh!" came from Cynthia, in disappointed tones.
" Why, who did you think it was ?'' asked her young
sister, turning and surveying her calmly and critically.
"Aren't yon glad to see Aunt Betsey? And why is your
face so very red ? Are you expecting any one else ?"
"No, only the boys," said Cynthia, busying herself with
the scattered silverware.
"The boys! I don't see why your face should look so
queer for them."
Mrs. Frankliu glanced at Cynthia quickly.
"Coine," said she, much to her daughter's relief, "we
must go and welcome Aunt Betsey."
The little old lady was as agile as ever. She had come
for Christinas and for the wedding, which was to take
place on the twenty-sixth.
" I am glad you didn't put it off," she said to Edith when
she had kissed her and kissed Dennis, and patted them
both on the shoulder. " Never put off till to-morrow what
can be done to-day, as I learned to my cost late in life —
though not so very late, either. And now I want to see the
wedding-presents."
And she trotted upstairs in front of them just as nimbly
as she did years ago, when she went up to show her nieces
her new false front.
Jack arrived iu the afternoon. He was a Sophomore at
Harvard now — very elegant in appearance, very superior as
to knowledge of the world, but underneath the same old
Jack, good-natured, plodding, persevering. He still ran
the poultry farm, though he paid a man to look after it
while he was away.
The day wore on, night came down upon them, and still
Nc:M did not appear. He was to have left Philadelphia
ilint morning, where he had been living during the past
four years. He had grown more accustomed to the con-
finement of business, he had made a number of friends out-
side of the Quaker element, and he expected Philadelphia
to be his permanent home.
His cousin was apparently satisfied with his success, for
Neal had risen steadily since the beginning, and would one
day be a partner. He had come home to Oakleigh every
summer for two weeks' vacation, but he had not spent the
Christmas holidays there since the year that his sister was
married.
This Christinas eve, Cynthia, in her prettiest gown,
donned for the occasion, grew visibly more and more im-
patient, iu which feeling her step - mother shared. Mr.
Franklin laughed at them as he sat by the lamp reading
the evening paper as usual.
" Watching won't bring him," he said when they opened
the front door a crack for the twentieth time and then shut
it hastily because of the snow that blew in ; " and in the
mean time you're freezing me!"
" Papa, how can you be so prosaic as to read a stupid old
newspaper Christmas eve?" cried Cynthia, as she caught
the paper out of his hand, tossed it aside, and seated her-
self on his knee.
"Seems to me my little daughter looks very nice to-
night," he said, looking at her affectionately. "She has
on a very fine frock and some very superior color in her
cheeks."
"Well, it is Christmas eve, and the fire is hot," explain-
ed Cynthia. »
"Ho!" laughed Janet, " that isn't it ! You began to get
blnshy when you thought the boys were coining this morn-
ing. Yon thought —
"Janet," interposed Mrs. Franklin, "run up stairs quick-
ly and get the little white package on my dressing-table,
dear. I forgot to put it, in the basket. You can slip it iu."
For the old Oakleigh custom still obtained, and the pres-
ents were deposited in the basket in the hall.
Janet, her explanations nipped in the bud, departed
obediently, her love of teasing overcome by her desire to
see, feel, and even shake the "little white package," which
had an attractive sound.
And at last Neal arrived. The storm had begun at the
south, and there had been much detention; but he had
finally reached his journey's end, and here he was, cold and
hungry, and very glad to reach the friendly shelter of Oak-
leigh.
From the moment he came iu Cynthia found a great deal
to do iu other parts of the house — things which seemed to
require her immediate and closest attention. She left her
mother and sister to attend to the wants of the traveller,
and beyond the first shy greeting she had very little to say
to him. When there was nothing left to be done she de-
voted herself to Aunt Betsey. But as soon as Neal had
appeased his appetite the excitement of opening the pres-
ents began, and the assumption of indifference to his com-
ing was no longer necessary.
On Christmas afternoon Neal asked Cynthia to go out
with him. The day was clear, the sleighing fine, and he
anticipated having an opportunity for a long talk with
her, uninterrupted by the claims of relatives. It seemed to
him that there were more people than ever who received a
share of Cynthia's attention. He would like to have her
all to himself just once.
Very much to his chagrin, however, Cynthia, who ac-
cepted his invitation with apparent cordiality, insisted that
they should go iu the double sleigh, and that Aunt Betsey
and some one else should go too.
"It would be very sellish and quite unnecessary for us
to go in the cutter when Aunt Betsey is so fond of a sleigh-
ride, "she said, severely.
Neal grumbled under his breath, but could say nothing
aloud, as Miss Trinkett was in the room. To be sure, when
they drove off, Cynthia sat iu front with him, while his sis-
ter entertained her aunt on the back seat; but it was not
by any means the same thing as going with Cynthia alone
would have beeu.
That young woman, with apparent unconsciousness of
his dissatisfaction, chatted gayly about the wedding, the
various bits of Brenton gossip, and everything that she
could think of to keep the ball of conversation rolling.
Somehow it had never before been so difficult to talk to
Neal. She wished that he would exert himself a little
more.
1082
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
"How do you like the idea of being usher," she asked —
"you ami Jack and four others, you know? Tom Morgan
is to be best man, Gertrude and Kitty Morgan are to be
bridemaids, and I maid of honor. But, Neal,.did you hear
the story about Tony Brouson ?"
"No;' what .'"
"Ob, he did some terrible thing not very long ago. He
forged his uncle's name, I believe. It got into the papers
at first, and then it was all bushed up, and his father paid
the money. But wasn't it dreadful ?"
"I should say so! But it is just what one might have
expected Bronson to do, Cynth."
And then Neal relapsed into silence again, and Cynthia
determined that she would make no further effort at eon-
\ crsat ion. If Neal would not talk he need not, but neither
would she. And after this, with the exception of Miss Bet-
sey's voice from behind, nothing was heard but the jingle
of the sleigh-bells until the drive was over and they were
at home again.
The wedding the next day passed off well. The bride
looked lovely, as all brides should, and Cynthia was as
pretty as, if not more so than, her sister. After the cere-
mony at the church there was a reception at the house,
which, notwithstanding the winter aspect without, looked
warm and gay in its dress of Christmas-greens and wed-
ding-flowers
Edith was upstairs in her old room, and her mother and
Cynthia were putting the last touches to her toilet when
she had changed her dress to go away.
" Mamma, I want to say something to you," she said, put-
ting her arms around Mrs. Franklin's neck. " You know
how I love you now, and you know only too well how hate-
ful I was to you wheu you first came to us. I look back
on it now witli horror, especially the day you heard me say
it was so dreadful to have the Gordons couie. I want to
tell you, mamma, that next to Dennis the coming of the
Gordons was the very best thing that ever happened to me
in my whole life !"
Mrs. Franklin could nor- speak; she could only kiss her
aud hold her tenderly.
Cynthia said nothing aloud, but she thought that the
coming of the Gordons was the very best thing that had
ever happened to her, without any exception whatever.
Dennis, in her eyes, was of minor importance.
The bride and groom went off amid a shower of old shoes,
and then the guests slowly betook themselves to their
homes. It was the first wedding at Oakleigh for many
years, and it was celebrated in a manner befitting such an
important occasion. Some of the intimate friends staid
during the evening, and wheu they left, the family, tired
aud worn with excitement, separated early.
The next day Neal went to see some of his former friends.
He was absent several days, for he had been granted ex-
tended leave, aud was not due iu Philadelphia until the 2d
of January.
It seemed very lonely and strange at Oakleigh after the
wedding was over. It was the first break in the family of
that kind, and Cynthia could uot become accustomed to it.
She thought that accounted for the unusual tit of depres-
sion which seized her the morning Neal went away, and
which she could not shake off, try as she would.
Edith and Dennis were to return the last day of the
year, and speud a short time at the old homestead before
going to their uew house. Neal also was to come back
that day, and Cynthia found herself longing for New-year's
eve. She did want to see Edith so much, she said to her-
self a dozen times a day.
And at last New-year's eve came, and with it the absent
members of the household. A merry party sat about the
supper-table that night. Cynthia was the gayest of the
gay. Her contagions laugh rang out on all occasions, but,
indeed, everybody laughed at every one else's joke, and
particularly one's own joke, apparently without regard to
the amount of wit contained therein.
As the evening lengthened Cynthia grew more, quiet.
The last night of the year always impressed her with its
solemnity, young though she was. She left the others
where they were sitting about the fire waiting for the
clock to strike, aud wandered oil' to the dining-room, to
the library, up stairs — anywhere. She could not sit still.
She was just coming down the broad old staircase wheu
Neal suddenly appeared at the foot. He had been waiting
for her. He was to go back to-morrow, aud he had deter-
mined to speak to her before lie left.
She paused a moment in surprise, and the light from the
Venetian lantern which hung in the hall shone down on
her soft curly hair aud young face as she stood with her
hand resting on the bannister. Neal thought he had never
seen so lovely a picture.
•• I want to speak to you, Cyuth," he said, leaning against
the carved post at the foot of the stairs and effectually
barring the way. There was nothing for her to do but to
listen "I have tried for ages, ever since I came, and you
never will give me a chance."
''Nonsense! You have beeu away. How could you ex-
pect to talk to me if you went away ?"
" I know; but I had to go. Besides, you wouldn't have
let me if I had beeu here."
"Let us go back to the parlor. It is almost twelve."
" No, I want you here."
Cyuthia was about to reply defiantly, bu t something in
Neal's eyes made her drop her own. She stood there in
silence.
"Cvuthia, do you remember that day on the river in the
rain ?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember what you called me then I"
No reply.
"Tell me, Cyuth ; do you remember what you called
me?"
"Yes," very low.
" Y'ou called me a coward. Do you think I am one now ?"
"Oh no."
"But yon also said you had faith iu me, Cyuthia; and
in Philadelphia that spring I told you I was going to prove
to you that I was worthy of your faith. Do you think I
have, Cyuthia ?"
" Yes, Neal."
lie said nothing for a minute. Then he glanced at the
old clock in the back part of the hall. It was live minutes
of twelve.
"Come to the hall window, Cynthia," he said, taking
her hand; and Cynthia went with him. "That other
New-year's eve we stood here and looked out ou the suow
just as we're doing now. Do you remember?"
"And I made good resolutions which I never kept," said
Cyuthia, finding her voice at last. " Oh, Neal, my bureau
drawers are just as untidy and my tongue is just as unruly
as ever! I make the same good resolutions every New-
year's eve, but I always break them. You were wiser.
You would not promise that night wheu I wanted you to,
but you have done a great deal better than if you had."
" I would not promise wheu I should have done so. But
won't you returu good for evil, Cyuthia, and promise me
something? Promise ine that before many more New-
year's eves have come aud gone you will be my wife ! For
I love you — love you, Cynthia! I have loved you ever
since that day ou the river — iudeed, long before that!
Hark! the clock is beginning to strike. Promise before it
stops."
And Cyuthia promised.
Aud the old clock struck twelve, as it ha'd done thou-
sands of times before, and the old year died, aud for us the
story is finished. But for Xeal and Cynthia a new year
and a uew life were dawning, and fur them the story had
but just begun.
RATHER ODD.
" PAPA," said Jimmieboy, "you are the nicest man in the
world."
" Aud you- are the nicest boy in the world," said his
father.
"Yes; I guess that's so," said Jimmieboy. ''Isn't it
queer how we both managed to get into the same family."
Point Lobos. Sutro Heights. Mortar Battery.
BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF THE GOLDEN GATE.
Mining Fort
Station. Point.
THE BOMBARDMENT OF
GATE.
THE GOLDEN
BY YATES STIRLING, JUN.
This
" A STRANGE fleet is in sight to the westward."
/\ is the startling report of the telephone from the
Farallone Islands, situated twenty-eight miles nearly due
west of San Francisco. The General receives the report
without a sign of the anxiety he feels, and continues his
sluily of the huge maps before him. He is contemplating
the vast amount of work that has been accomplished in the
last three months since war had been declared. Then San
Francisco had been a defenceless city at the mercy of the
most insignificant enemy ; now it is as near impregnable as
human skill and ingenuity can make it.
The General takes a lingering look at the maps on his
desk; running over the different forts, he sees with pride
that there is nothing left undone.
On Point Lobos, the southern cape of the outer harbor,
on high bluffs, are three 16-inch rifles mounted on disappear-
ing carriages, the guns, in the loading position, being behind
breastworks of eartli and concrete. In this position the guns
are sighted, then going up to the firing position above the
earthwork for only a few seconds on firing, and then recoil-
ing to their position of safety. On the high land between
Point Lobos and Fort Point are two 12-inch and two 10-
Inch rifles in Grueson turrets, thr armor consisting of eigh-
teen inches of Harveyized nirkrl steel. The turrets are
HE SEES TUB FAMOUS "OREGON" COME RUSlli:
segments of a sphere, and are manipulated similarly to
those on a battle-ship. A little higher up is one of the
two formidable pneumatic guns, the explosion of whose
shell within twenty yards of a ship would send her to the
bottom. At Fort Point, the southern cape of the Golden
Gate, in earthworks of old design patched up and strength-
ened, are four 10-inch rifles with disappearing carriages.
On the northern cape of the Gate, Point Bonito, are three
16-inch rifles mounted in a similar way. The second pneu-
matic terror is also at this point, commanding the entrance
to the Gate. Point Diablo is fortified with three 12-inch
anil two 10-inch rifles on disappearing carriages, and Lime
Point will defend the harbor with four 10-inch rifles mounted
ill the same way. The outer harbor seaward of Fort Point
and Point Diablo has been well mined, making it impos-
sible for a vessel to enter in safety even though she had
escaped the tons of steel hurled at her. The cables from
the mines are led to a central station on the bluffs back of
Fort Point. If by chance the enemy's ships should ride
over this hidden explosive, the simple pressure of a key in
this station would send them all to destruction. At the
mine station are. two observers, who, by an instrument simi-
lar to a range finder, discover from time to time the position
of the enemy on their chart. When the unlucky vessel is
over a mine the key is pressed.
On Sutro Heights is a heavily armored tower, the inside
of which to an inexperienced eye would appear like a cen-
tral telephone station. It. is the General's headquarters in
action. From here he and bis
start' will direct and control the
battle. This is the brain of the
intricate fortifications. Tin-
nerves run to every battery and
central station, making it but the
work of a minute to transmit or-
ders to any point. Before another
half-hour has slipped away every-
thing is activity within the forts.
The wires from the General's tow-
er are busy with the many or-
ders transmitted.
Actual hostilities began months
ago in the East, but as yet have
not laid their cruel hand on the
Pacific slope. New York has been
the scene of most of the strife.
While the army has been mak-
ing the Golden Gate a fortress, the
navy has not been idle. All the
fighting ships on the coast have
been collected, and the work on
the new ones so expedited that a
formidable fleet has been massed
in the harbor. The Oregon, the
only first-class battle-ship of tin-
West, cleared for action, the Ad-
N To Tilt: HC.IIT. miml's blue tiagflyingather truck,
1084
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
is lying behind Alcatraz
Island; made fast to the
•different mooring-buoys liy
slip-ropes is the rest of the
Pacific fleet. The Monterey,
low and formidable, is near-
est the island, barely dis-
tinguishable against the
dark land ; her heavily
armored turrets, bristling
each with two great 12-inch
rilh's, are a menace to any
battle -ship. The Monail-
noi'k. a double-tnrreted ves-
.sel, is close to the Oregon;
in her turrets she' carries
two 12-inch and two 10-inch
rifles, and inside of her dark
hull are brave men who
will show the enemy that
the American monitor is as
deadly a foe as of old. The
Oli/iitpid, I'liiliuh'lpliift, /><//-
timore, Charleston, Beniiiiui-
ton, and i'orktoiai, all pro-
tected cruisers, are equally
ready to do battle with any of the enemy that it is their
duty to encounter.
The foreign fleet is now in sight from Siitro Heights.
A glance through (lie powerful telescope, tells the General
it is the enemy — six first-class battle-ships and eight
cruisers, for the belligerent country depends upon the cap-
ture of this rich city to defray the heavy expense of the
war.
They are approaching in double column, the battle-ships
leading. Nearer and nearer they come. The range-tinders
at the different batteries show the range is rapidly dimin-
ishing. News has reached San Francisco, and the high
bluffs about the city are thronged with an excited crowd.
The blue -coated regulars have dispersed from the little
knots about the guns, and have gone to their stations, and
stand ready at the command to open the greatest battle
the West has ever see.u. On the ships of the enemy come,
majestically cutting the smooth sea, throwing the silvery
spray upon their bare forecastles, over which their heavy
turret guns are to soon speak.
"PREPAHE TO HAM."
ANOTHER IS FORCED TO STRIKE THE WHITE FLA(i.
"Four miles, sir!" reports one of the General's aides.
The batteries .at Lobos and Bouito are ordered to open tire.
The six big Ib'-inch rifles thunder forth their challenge
almost simultaneously, and nearly three and a half tons of
steel go speeding toward the approaching enemy. All eyes
are turned seaward, and are just in time to see columns of
water thrown up close aboard the (in-coming ships. Again
and again the heavy batteries speak; shot after shot goes on
its deadly flight, making havoc on board the silent vessels.
The fleet is approaching at nearly fifteen-knot speed ; it
will take them but eight minutes to reach the range, when
tons of gun-cotton will be sent out to meet them both
above and below the peaceful sea. They are heading di-
rectly for the entrance. What can be their intention ?
Will they dare attempt to run the forts? Do they suppose
the harbor is clear of mines and they have naught to fear
save the guns ? The range-tinder dials point to 4000 yards
from the Gate. All the guns on the forts are blazing forth
tire, but the gunners' aims are poor, and the better part of
the shuts are fruitlessly ploughing up the sea in the vicinity
of theeuemy. One well-aimed 16-inch sbellstrikes home on
the nearest ship ; her armor is pierced, and she has become
unmanageable and drops out of the advancing columns.
Nearer and nearer comes the fighting. At last the
dreaded puft's of smoke dart from the battle-ships' turrets,
and the shells are coming screeching ashore, tearing np the
earth in the fortifications. With a glass one of the aides
is scanning the sea at the entrance to the harbor. An ex-
clamation escapes him as his glass focuses on some object
of interest; with a finger trembling with emotion he points
out to the General two small red flags, barely distinguish-
able on the water's surface, midway between Point Lobos
and the nearest ship. A glance shows it to be the flags on
the Sims-Edison controllable torpedo. Out it goes at a
terrific speed; nearer and nearer it approaches its intended
victim. Harmless enough look these small pieces of limit-
ing, but underneath the water not many feet lurk nc:nl\
five hundred pounds of deadly gun-cotton. It has pa»i il
astern of the leading ship. Will it run out its scope and
fail ? A small column of water is seen to ascend from the
flags, and the next moment the second battle-ship is nearly
engulfed in a mighty explosion. The first charge tears the
torpedo net ; the second makes one less ship to attack the
batteries, for she is fast sinking. The gun-cotton has ex-
ploded against her steel hull. A cruiser drops out to render
assistance.
An explosion that seems like an earthquake to those
in the fortifications tells that the first gun-cotton shell
has exploded near the enemy. One of the leading battle-
ships heels over and slowly sinks beneath the waves; her
seams have been opened by the force of the explosion.
The enemy now is in irregular formation, more nearly like
1085
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
double echelon; they are pouring in a scathing five on all
tin- lotteries. As they approach the torpedo range they
starboard and stand out to sea, bringing to bear their
after turrets. Some of their shots have committed awful
havoc ashore ; gun after gun has been dismounted, one of
the pneumatic guns has been struck by a shell arid is a
total wreck. The remaining controllable torpedoes have
failed.
The pneumatic gun on Point Bonito is aimed at the near-
est ship, but a mile and a half away ; the gauge on the ac-
cumulator shows the air pressure is sufficient. The lever
is tripped, and the quarter-ton of gun-cotton, with a whir,
is hurled on its errand of destruction. The eye can dis-
tinguish the aerial torpedo as it soars to the height of its
trajectory, and then majestically and swiftly steals down
toward its helpless prey. Will it explode ? It strikes the
water a few yards from the target, but the looked-for ex-
plosion does not follow ; the fuse has failed. The next
minute every gun of the enemy is trained upon this terrible
weapon, knowing that if the shell is again let loose their
ships will be like chaff before this tremendous power. The
enemy is now confident of victory Signals go up on the
flag-ship, and in a very few minutes the old formation is re-
sumed, and ouce again they head for the harbor.
The firing becomes hot and furious ; broadside after broad-
side belches forth from the enemy's steel sides ; a few shells
go wide into the city, and dense columns of black smoke from
the buildings set on fire lend a more awesome aspect to the
picture depicted.
The observers at the mining-station are nervous with
the suppressed excitement within them. The ships of the
enemy plot on their chart only eight hundred yards away
from their mines. Will it be their fortune to decide the
fate of the Golden City ? The ships still advance. Soon they
will bo over the mines. A pressure of the key under the
hand will discharge tons of the hidden explosive.
But the enemy has stopped. What does this foretell ?
Five hundred yards from the mines the ships are nearly
motionless in the troubled sea lashed to foam by the plough-
ing of so much steel.
All the batteries are now doing splendid work. Explosion
follows explosion on board the intruding ships. Two cruis-
ers are unmanageable and on fire ; they drift onto the rocks
almost within a stone's throw of one of the batteries. Sud-
denly torpedoes shoot from the bow tubes of the leading
ships, and a few moments afterward tremendous columns
of water are seen to rise from the bay, and the next second
the sound of a might3T discharge reaches the expectant ears
of the defenders of the Gate. The officer at the mining-
key knows from the spark that jumps across under his
baud that the enemy has countermined and the harbor is
clear. The struggle has come to such close quarters that
the rapid-tire and machine gun tire lends its sharp cracking
report to the dull roar of the heavy guns.
But the foe has stopped too long! The mortar battery
on Lobos has gotten his range. Suddenly with a whir a
column of smoke rises in the air just over the bay, and a
bunch of 16-inch mortar shells falls upon the battle-ships'
unprotected decks. One shell strikes over the boilers of
one of the ships, penetrating them a second later, the ex-
plosion of which rends her asunder; and where this power-
ful steel - clad had been but a moment before is but the
hissing foam of troubled waters.
The General sees the fight has now reached the critical
point ; the cruisers have dashed ahead and will soon be
within the harbor. Many of the batteries have been put
out of action by the well-aimed shots of the enemy. The
navy is needed, but the telephone connection with the
station has been severed; the signal has not been made.
Time is precious. A few minutes more, and the whole fleet
will be within the bay of San Francisco, and, without, the
batteries, will be more than a match for the few United
States ships.
An exclamation involuntarily escapes from the General's
lips as he sees the famous Oregon emerge from behind
Alcatraz Island, and come rushing down to the fight.
The small fleet was thought too valuable to hazard against
such as the enemy brought. The plan was not to expose
it till the signal was made. But the Admiral, behind Alca-
traz Island, has been pacing up and down the deck of his
battle-ship, tugging at the restraining bonds, growing more
and more impatient as the cannonading has become more
furious. The crews of the ships feel the inactivity keenly ;
anything is better than this suspense. Why does not the
signal come? The Admiral will wait no longer, but slips
his moorings, regardless of consequences, and appears in
the nick of time with his fleet to bar the entrance to the bay.
The Oregon, Monterey, and Mouailnock engage the two re-
maining battle-ships. There is no sea-room for manoeu-
vring, aud the rapid way in which the Yankee guns are
served shows that they are more than a match fortheir huge
enemies. The cruisers have closed in for the death-struggle;
every weapon of modern warfare is being employed ; two
ships of the foe and one of his opponent's have been tor-
pedoed, and in another moment one of ours rams their big-
gest battle-ship. The General on shore can almost hear
the command, " Prepare to ram." It is so quickly and
skilfully executed. The forts have now become inactive,
fearing to fire lest by chance one of their own ships might
be struck.
The enemy suddenly begins to retreat, leaving two of his
ships on the rocks, while another is forced to strike the
white flag.
Night has come on. The sun has an hour ago gone be-
low the western horizon. The evening fog-bank comes in
and mingles with the battle smoke about the silent bat-
teries, which only a short time before were the scene of
bloodshed and war. The brave defenders may sleep in
peace in their blankets and hammocks. The pride of the
enemy has been humbled, and the beautiful city of San
Francisco is safe from torch aud shell.
SHARK-CATCHING IN MID-OCEAN.
BY A. J. KENEALY.
THE Rajali made good progress south, the northeast
trades blowing her thither swiftly. We were fast
approaching the belt of calms, squalls, rain, and variable
winds known to sailors as the "doldrums."
The skipper had four coops of fat ducks which he tended
with loving care. He just doted on them slutted with
sage and onions, and while they were being roasted he used
to hang about the galley enjoying the savory odors that
escaped from the oven. One morning while it was raining
as though the gates of heaven had been opened wide the
Captain thought he would give his pets a treat. The ship
was heeling over considerably, being close-hauled on the
starboard tack, with all her flying kites dowsed to the puffy
breeze. He ordered the lee scuppers to be plugged up, and
as soon as a sufficiently large pool had collected on deck,
he liberated the ducks so that they might enjoy the luxury
of a fresh-water bath. The ducks were delighted, and de-
monstrated their joy by noisy quacks. The pigs in the
pens forward responded with joyous squeaks. The cocks
and hens in the long-boat joined in with a merry chorus of
crows and cackles. The combined music was that of a
barn-yard.
The ship heeled over until the scuppers were awash. The
weight of all the fresh water on deck as the ship inclined
to the squall aud rose on the next wave was thrown against
a lee port aft near which the ducks were disporting them-
selves. Now it happened that the lashing of this port was
only of spun-yarn, rotten at that. The wash of the water
against the port parted the lashing, swung the port wide
open, and away went a dozen of the ducks into the sea
with a great whir of wings and clamorous cackling.
One of the sailors closed and secured the port before any
more of the birds escaped. Then the rest of the watch
came aft, running helter-skelter at the hurried hail of the
mate, and drove the rest of the flock into their pen. Had
there been the slightest chance of capturing the runaways
the Captain would have backed tue main-topsail, hove the
ship to, and lowered the quarter-boat.
Meanwhile the wind had died out. The sails flapped
lazily again-st the mast, and the ship rolled sluggishly on
1086
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
the heaving bosom of old ocean. The clouds rolled away,
and the pitiless burning sun shone down on the deck and
dried up all the moisture on wood and rope in a few min-
utes. It was one of those sudden meteorological changes
so common in equatorial latitudes. An awning was rigged
up over the man at the wheel. The skipper put on a huge
topee, or Indian pith helmet, to shelter his head from the
sweltering rays which made the pitch boil and bubble up
iu the seams of the main-deck, and promised plenty of work
for the carpenter's calking-irons.
The ducks, obeying a sort of homing instinct, I suppose,
swam up to the now almost motionless ship, and continued
their sport nearly within a stone's throw. Suddenly a
bright idea struck the skipper.
" See the lee quarter-boat clear for lowering!" he shout-
ed to the second mate. Then he put his head down the
cabiu skylight and ordered the steward to bring up his
breech-loader and a lot of cartridges. The boat was low-
ered and manned. A side ladder was rigged; the Captain
with his gun descended and took up a position in the bow,
from which he directed operations. The cockswain seized
the tiller-ropes. " Shove oft let fall give way !" he cried, all
iu one breath, without any regard to punctuation, so excited
was he, and in such a hurry to get within guushot of the
durks. If be could not catch them alive, he meant to have
them dead.
The boat was headed for the flock. When withiu easy
range the skipper let them have it right and left. His aim
was so good that be brought down three. It took some
time to pick them up, which gave the scared flock an op-
portunity to get out of gunshot. None others, as it hap-
pened,were fated to fall victims to the deadly breech-loader
of our sportsman-skipper. The dorsal fins of six sharks
were observed sticking up above the surface of the water,
and converging from different directions on the doomed
ducks. Sharks are abundant in equatorial waters, and
they follow ships for miles. Some of them are very large.
All are voracious and ugly customers to tackle.
The way those sharks gobbled up those ducks was a sight
to behold. They were disposed of in three minutes. The
Captain was terribly angry. He tried to revenge himself
by peppering the sharks with shot, but it is doubtful if the
leaden pellets made the slightest impression on their tough
hides, even if he succeeded in hitting them.
The boat pulled back to the ship, and was hoisted to the
davits. The calm continued. Four of the sharks came up
alongside, eager for more ducks. Such appetizing fare was
seldom theirs. Stray garbage from passing ships, flotsam
from the forecastle, composed the diet upon which they
usually depended iu addition to their steady prey offish.
The Captain brooded over the loss of his ducks for some
time. Then he made up his mind to have a little shark-
fishing, and thus combine revenge and recreation.
He sent below for a brand-new shark-hook with a sharp
and cruel barb. To the ring of the hook was attached a
stout chain a fathom long. A shark's teeth are so sharp
and strong that they can bite through the stoutest rope
with singular ease. To the end of the chain the skipper
bent on a two-and-a-half-inch manilla line, and having im-
paled a four-pound piece of pork on the hook, hove it over-
board, with the remark that he intended to have a slice of
fresh shark for supper.
The sharks were playing about the rudder on the look-
out for any stray trifles that might come along their way
from a sailor down to a beef bone. They are not at all
fastidious or dainty. It was my first experience of shark-
fishing, and I was a keen and interested observer. The
water was so clear that I could watch every motion of the
four monsters as they swam slowly about, each one at-
tended by his own particular body-guard of pilot-fish —
pretty little creatures shaped something like perch, with
blue vertical stripes. Ichthyologists declare that these fish
attend the shark for the purpose of preying upon the para-
sites that infest him. This may be a true explanation,
but I cannot understand how it is that a hungry deep-sea
shark, that will snap up anything living or dead, permits
these plump little fish to play unscathed about his enor-
mous jaws. There are other curious things about these
AWAY WENT A DOZEN OF THE DUCKS INTO THE SEA.
pilot-fish that nattu-alists cannot explain. They only at-
tach themselves to the pelagic species found in deep water;
there are always five or seven of them to each shark, never
an even number; they stick to the shark while he is floun-
dering about in the water with a hook through his jaws,
but as soon as he is hoisted above the surface of the sea
they immediately disappear. Nobody knows what becomes
of them.
I have had several good opportunities of studying the
habits of sharks, and have always been curious about them.
As a matter of fact, very little is known concerning the
ocean variety, which is quite distinct from that of the
shore.
No sooner had the pork plashed into the sea than one of
the rapacious monsters made a rush for it. The remark-
able velocity of this fish was surprising to me, who had
never before seen a deep-sea shark in his native element.
The water was so beautifully limpid that his every action
could be accurately observed. I thought he would gorge
the bait immediately, but he did not. When he came up
with it, he made a sudden stop. Then he sniffed at it with
an air of expectant and suspicious curiosity. The next
thing he did was to turn his tail to it contemptuously, and
swim away a considerable distance.
"Watch him make a dart for it now," said the skipper,
who was an old hand at shark-catching.
Like a flash the huugry fish went for the tempting bait,
turning over so that he might grasp it more conveniently
with his wide and cruel jaws. In an instant it was en-
gulfed in his maw. And then there was such a floundering
and threshing iu the water as I had never before seen. The
fierce shark, maddened with the pain of the sharp book,
made frantic but fruitless efforts to escape. He snapped
savagely at the strong chain attached to the hook, with
the sole result of damaging his own cruel-looking teeth.
Meanwhile the fish had been dragged forward to the star-
board gangway in spite of his wild struggles. A running
bowline was sent down the line that held him, and as the
shark was hoisted over the side it was passed over his
body and hnnled taut round his tail, in order to control
the movements of this his most formidable weapon. In-
stances have been known of a blow from a shark's tail
breaking a man's leg on the deck of a vessel immediately
after being hauled in over the side.
This fish in qnestiou was gigantic. It took eight men
to hoist him inboard. " Chips," the carpenter, stood by
with a keen axe, and as soon as Mr. Shark's struggling car-
cass was landed on the deck, with one powerful blow he
severed his tail from his body, and thus incapacitated him
from mischief. From time immemorial it has been the ship
carpenter's privilege and duty to out ofl' the tails of all
108?
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
'WATCH HIM MAKE A DAHT FOR IT NOW," SAID THE SKIPPER.
sharks captured during a deep-sea voyage, and the cook
generally despatches him much after the fashion of a .Jap-
anese when lie performs on himself the queer right of
hari-kari.
"Chips, "said the skipper, addressing the carpenter, "he-
fore yon cut that shark up, just pull that rule out of your
pocket and measure him. He seems quite a big fellow."
And a big fellow he proved to be, measuring 30 feet 8J
inches long. The Captain said he was the largest one
In', had ever seen, but the chief mate declared he had once
captured one that measured 38 feet, and he had sailed with
a skipper who had hauled one in-board that was fully 40
feet in length. As a matter of fact, specimens of pelagic
sharks are displayed in museums that exceed 40 feet, but
they are very rare. In Florida varieties of fossil sharUs
have been dug np whose length "over all" averages more
than 50 feet, but these are now happily extinct.
Seafaring men are not as a rule a bloodthirsty race, but
they look upon sharks as their natural enemies, and against
them they wage relentless warfare; and whenever one is
hooked they rejoice with an exuberant pleasure, and will
sacrifice their watch below in order to see him cut and
carved. There is also much curiosity with regard to the
contents of his interior. I once had for a shipmate a man
who swore hard and fast that he once found in a shark a
ship's chronometer that was still ticking. He was quite a
truthful man too, but somehow I never believed that yarn.
Of course a shark is one of the most ravenous and rapacious
of fishes, and queer articles have undoubtedly been dis-
covered in their stomachs.
Inside the one just caught there were two of the Cap-
tain's ducks, and not a morsel of anything else, which prob-
ably accounted for the greed with which he swallowed the
t'oiir-piiiiiid chunk of briny pork. It is a tradition among
sailors ili.ii sharks will not bite at a piece of beef, and I
never heard of one being hooked with any bovine bait. In
this the shark shows excellent taste and judgment, for the
"salt junk" served out to seafarers is by no means a suc-
culent or dainty dish. As a matter of fact, I have known
a sailor to whittle out of it a fair model of the hull of a ship,
and to dry it in the snn for two or three weeks, when it
would come out for all the world as hard as a block of ma-
hogany, which it
resembled — and
this too after the-
beef had been boil-
ed for hours in the
cook's coppers !
The Captain or-
dered the cook to
cut otf the fins and
prepare, them for
his own particular
use after the Chi-
nese fashion, the
almond-eyed Ce-
lestials esteeming
them as an espe-
cial dainty. Then
he carved two long
cutlets from the
back, which he
kalso ordered to be
* ,^f' cooked for his sup-
per. The rest of
the linge carcass
he surrendered to
the crew. The
boatswain cut out
the heart of the
shark, which was
still palpitating,
and placed it in a
tin dish. He told
me, it would con-
tinue to beat till
sundown, when it
would suddenly
become motionless. I did not lielieve him, and told
him so, but he prophesied truly. I watched that throbbing
heart pretty closely for several hours. It beat firmly and
regularly nutil the upper rim of the sun disappeared be-
neath the western horizon. Then it made a sudden stop,,
and became limp and pulseless. This may seem a yarn fit
only to tell to the marines, but it is gospel truth on the
word of a sailor. I have told the story to scientific men, but
they have pooh-poohed at it, and declared it to have been-
impossible. But then it was not to be supposed that they
would know anything about sharks, having got all their
knowledge from musty books instead of from the sea itself.
Old sailors who have crossed the line will, however, cor-
roborate me as to this phenomenon.
The carpenter claimed the backbone, which he fashioned
into a quite handsome walking-stick by impaling the finest
sections of the spine on a slender bar of steel. And I may
as well tell yon that the "shark walking-canes " so fre-
quently offered in South Street by impostors disguised as
hardy mariners are as a rule made of sections of ox tails,
prepared in a very cunning manner, and well calculated to
deceive the inexperienced.
The Captain gave me the jaws, which were immense. I
boiled them all night in a big kettle until all the flesh fell
off them and they shone like ivory. I preserved them for
many years as a souvenir of my first deep-sea voyage and
of the first shark I had seen hooked.
The tail was nailed in triumph to the end of the flying-
jib-boom, replacing one of much smaller dimensions that
had long braved both wind and weather. Sailors think
that a shark's tail at the extreme end of a ship's " nose-pole"
is the harbinger of good luck. While these things were
Ijeiug done the rest of the shark's carcass was thrown over-
board for his mates to gorge upon. The only people aboard
the Bajah that ate shark for supper that night were the
Captain and the spinner of this yarn. The skipper feasted
on the fins, followed by a big dish of cutlets. Of the last-
named delicacy I partook very sparingly, I warrant you,
being actuated less by appetite than by curiosity. Not
being an accomplished ichthyophagist like my Captain,!
am forced to confess that I found his flesh to be not only-
flavorless but coarse.
1088
5INTERSCHOEASTIC*
tSPORTt
IT IS AN EXCELLENT thing for yonng men to be eager and
enthusiastic in their pursuit of sport, but they should
never allow their eagerness and enthusiasm to get the
better of them. In a hotly contested game it is sometimes
impossible for spectators to retain that composure which
lends dignity to the Supreme Court, but, on the other hand,
we should never allow our partisanship to carry us beyond
the bounds of good behavior. I don't -want to preach a
sermon here on the etiquette of sport, because I am fully
aware that, my readers know just as much about the subject
as I do ; I merely want to urge them now to act on the
grand stand, or along the ropes, or in the field itself just as
in calmer moments they know they ought to act, and feel
confident that they will.
IN LOOKING OVER A BUNDLE of school papers the other
day. I came across an editorial which started me to thinking
about the behavior of spectators aud players at school
games, and 1 want to quote a portion of it. It does not
matter what particular schools are under discussion, and so
I have eliminated their names from the paragraph, substi-
tuting A and B, but otherwise the quotation is taken word
for word. I did not write it myself.
There is one thing that we must condemn, and condemn
very strongly, too, and that is the ungentlemanly conduct on the
part of our boys, in jeering their opponents and trying to rattle
their contestants. It is true that the "A" School started this,
but this is no excuse for the boys to so far forget themselves ami
their school, and act like anything but gentlemen. The boys feel
somewhat justified in the act, in that they did not begin jeering
for quite a while after the " A " School had started, but, at no
time and for no cause are they excusable for forgetting that they
are gentlemen. But to cap ail this, a free fight was engaged in
after the field day on some trivial cause. The less said about
this the better, but we very strongly condemn the conduct of
both the " B " and " A " schools in the field day on Saturday.
THE OCCURRENCES REFERRED TO ABOVE took place at a
track-athletic meeting, but they might just as well have
happened at a football or a baseball game. The two
schools are rivals in sport, and the single aim of each is to
defeat the other. This spirit is commendable and should
be encouraged, and I know of no one who will yell louder
aud longer for his own side than I will. But when it comes
to jeering, we must draw the line. It is unsportsmanlike,
aud that means that it is ungentlemanly, cowardly, and in-
decent. We go into sport in order that the best man may
win, and if the best man is on the other side, this may be a
disappointment, but it is never a disgrace. If we start in
to jeer at the best man's efforts we are openly trying to pre-
vent him from winning, which is conduct directly opposite
to the motives that led us to encourage the competition.
It is as cowardly to jeer at, an opponent as it, is to adopt
unfair means to defeat him; and any act calculated aud
intended to injure the chances of an antagonist is un-
sportsmanlike.
As TO THE PARTICULAR CASE mentioned in the editorial,
I can make no comment beyond what has already been said,
except that lighting after a friendly contest is wholly irrec-
oncilable to sport. I don't know, of course, whether there
•was an actual tight or not. The editor may have exagger-
ated; let us hope that he did. But to allow one's feelings
to get, the upper baud in sport is always a sign of wealc-
ness, and persons of such weak character as not to be able
to restrain their passions should not indulge in sport.
They do not belong among sportsmen.
THERE is NOTHING BETTER than athletic contests to de-
velop character and to teach a man to restrain himself.
Aside from all ethics in the matter, and looking at the case
purely from the point of view of securing advantage, it is
better to be able to master one's passions and feelings. The
man who loses his temper on the football field, and begins
to "slug" his opponent, or to adopt mean methods of play,
invariably weakens his own efforts, because he is giving
more thought to his spite than he is to his game. Of two
teams absolutely evenly matched iu every physical respect,
the team whose members keep cool and collected, and do
not lose their tempers, is bound to win every time. It is
so in everything; in business the same as in sport. There-
fore, let me repeat that whereas enthusiasm and eagerness
cannot be too highly commended, any display of ill-feeling
or displeasure iu sport cannot be too severely condemned.
AT A NUMBER OF SCHOOLS it is the custom to allow in-
structors to play on the football and baseball teams, aud
these instructors frequently go into match games against
other school teams. Such a system, of course, is bad ; but
it is fortunate that it is not countenanced at those institu-
tions which hold a prominent place in the interscholastic
world. It is mostly at small private schools that, the teach-
ers play, but the principle is the same. In the first place,
a man who is old enough to be a professor is too old to
play against boys. He outclasses them in experience and
in strength, and it is unfair to pit such a player against a
young athlete who has gone into sport for the sake of try-
ing his skill against his equals. It is also discouraging to
any team of young men to have to face opponents among
whom there may be one or more college graduates. The
mere presence of an older man on a boys' team serves to
overawe the other side.
A CAPTAIN is PERFECTLY justified in refusing to play
against any school team that puts an instructor or pro-
fessional trainer into the field with the school players. In
Crftne, r. e. Cheney, h.-b. Eliaaon, h.-b. Ellsworth, h.-b.
Cook, r. t. Babcock. m'er. Holland, I.e. Warner, f.-b. Savage, I. e.
Brown, r.g. MoK-1vey,.4.-l, , Capt. His™,,:. McCortnick, 1. 1.
THE HOTCHKISS SCHOOL FOOTBALL ELEVEN.
1089
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
fact, I should strongly urge every Captain of a school team
to refuse to arrange games with any institution where the
professor habit prevails, and to retire from any contest in
which the opponents propose to play an older man. A few
years ago there was a school team in Pennsylvania that
won most of its baseball games simply because the pitcher
was so much superior to any school pitcher the team ever
met. and so much better an all -round player than any
school-boy could be, that their opponents had no chance.
That was not sport. There was no glory in those victories.
The school team did not win. It was the professor against
the field. He was a graduate of Williams College, I think,
and had been the crack pitcher of his year among college
baseball teams. But I think that he no longer performs
for that school, and I believe that the boys there have a
truer appreciation of the ethics of sport now, and fight
their own battles on the diamond and on the gridiron.
IT is ALL VERY PROPER for instructors who were athletes
in college to give the scholars at the school they teach in
the benefit of their experience by coaching the players, and
even by going out on the field and playing against the first
school' team. But they should always play against the
team, uot with it, except for the purpose of demonstrating
a play. By coaching the school players they are doiug
much good for the school team and for sport. But by
joining the school players in games against other schools
they do injury both to the players and to the cause of
sport.
THK ABSURD REPORTS WHICH APPEARED ill some of the
New York daily papers concerning the injury received by
Captain Myuderse, of the Betts Academy team, in the re-
cent game 'against the Berkeley School eleven, only serve
to corroborate the statements made by this Department
two weeks ago. Fortunately Mr. Ely, the coach of the
Berkeley team, came out promptly with a statement to the
effect that the boy was not at all seriously injured, and
that ho returned to his school the next day with his com-
panion players, and was not, as reported, laid up in the
hospital in a critical condition. In closing, Mr. Ely re-
marks: " Any team of school-boys who are properly looked
after and cared for while playing the game, and who are
physically fit to play it, need have no fear of doing so, nor
need their parents have any fear that their sous will be
permanently injured or incapacitated from pursuing a
collegiate or business career from injurious effects sustained
upon the football field." Mr. Ely is perfectly right; and
let me add that boys who are not properly looked after
while playing the game, or who are not physically fit to
play it, should not be allowed on the field.
THK MOST PROMISING ELEVEN in the New York League,
up to date, is the Berkeley School team. Bayne has been
made Captain instead of Irwin- Martin, and he will, no
doubt, put more life and snc,p into his men. The change
is a good one, for Martin is a good deal of a back number
in scholastic athletics, and has thoroughly outgrown the
class of players who properly belong on school teams. The
protests against him on the score of age will probably again
this year pop up with persistent regularity in the meetings
of 1 lie I.S.A.A. Martin ought to get a certified copy of his
birth certificate from the Bureau of Vital Statistics, and
settle this disputed question once for all.
THE LEAGUE GAMES began last week, and the schedule is
divided into two sections, as the baseball schedule was:
FIRST SECTION.
Oct. 22. — Cutler School vs. Hamilton Institute.
Oct. 29. — Trinity School vs. Columbia (Jrammar School.
Xov. 5. — Hamilton Institute vs. Trinity School.
Xov. 12. — Cutler School vs. Columbia Grammar School.
Xov. 19. — Cutler School vs. Trinity School.
Xov. 22. — Hamilton Institute vs. Columbia Grammar School.
SECOND SECTION.
Oct. 25. — Barnard School vs. DC La Salle Institute.
Xov. 1. — Barnard School vs. Berkeley School.
jvfov § — Berkeley School vs. De La Salle Institute.
Xov. 29. — Championship game, winner first section vs. winner
second section.
Should there be a tie, the deciding game will be played
on November '26th at the Berkeley Oval, where all the
championship matches are to be held.
THE BROOKLYN SERIES BEGAN almost a week earlier than
the New York games, and will be continued in this order:
Oct. 16. — Adelphi Academy vs. Bryant & Stratton.
Oct. 19. — Adelphi Academy vs. Pratt Institute ; St. Paul's School
vs. Bryant & Stratton.
• Oct. 22. — "Poly Prep." vs. Bryant & Stratton; Boys' High-
School vs. Bryant & Stratton.
Oct. 26.— Brooklyn Latin School vs. Bryant & Stratton; "Poly
Prep." vs. Pratt Institute.
Xov. 2. — Pratt Institute vs. Boys' Higu-School; St. Paul's School
vs. Adelphi Academy.
Nov. 5. — Brooklyn Latin School vs. Boys' High -School; St.
Paul's School vs. "Poly Prep."
Xov. 9. — St. Paul's School vs. Pratt Institute.
Xov. 13. — " Poly Prep." vs. Boys' High-School.
Nov. 16. — St. Paul's School vs. Boys' High-School ; Pratt Insti-
tute vs. Brooklyn Latin School.
Xov. 20. — " Poly Prep." vs. Boys' High-School ; Brooklyn Latin
School vs. Adelphi Academy.
Nov. 23.— Brooklyn Latin School vs. St. Paul's School.
Xov. 26. — "Poly Prep." vs. Adelphi Acinlrmy.
THE GAME BETWEEN LAWREXCEVILLE and the Princeton
'Varsity showed considerable improvement on the part of
the school team; but it also emphasized the fact that the
end players are still weak, and that both quarter and full
back can be materially strengthened. On the whole, the
playing was sharp, and the work of the team as a unit
showed that it was made up of good stuff that will, no
doubt, be moulded into shape by the time of the Andover
game. The tackling and breaking into Princeton's inter-
ference were good, but the men were slow at the start off.
Their own interference did uot form in time, and as yet the
defensive work is far inferior to that of last year's eleven.
AT THE HOTCIIKISS SCHOOL, Lakeville, the outlook for
football is good, notwithstanding the loss of such men as
Cheney, Conner. Sheldon, Spencer, Gray, and Wells. Many
players who were raw last year are developing well, and
some good new men have come in. The line is heavier
than last year, and will be better, but the ends and backs
are light, averaging perhaps 140 pounds. Hixou, centre,
plays a strong and steady game, and may always be de-
pended on. Reiland, left guard, though he puts up a si iff
game, is apt to lose his side much ground by oft-side plays.
Brown, right guard, makes good holes and breaks through
well, but rims poorly with the ball. McCorinick, left
tackle, is playing well, and runs with the ball with I'on-e,
but is inclined to be overconfident, does not follow the ball
closely, and is consequently out of many plays. Cook,
right tackle, is playing hard, but has much to learn. Crane,
right end, although very light, tackles well but is apt to be
blocked off by the interference. Savage, left end, breaks
up the interference well, but is a little weak in tackling.
McKELVF.Y, AT QUARTER-BACK, makes an excellent. Cap-
tain, passes accurately, and shows good judgment in the
generalship of his team. Warner, half and full, hits the
line well, and plays a strong defensive game. Ellsworth,
left half, runs around the ends well, but is weak in tack-
ling. Warner must learn to punt better in order to hold
his position at full back. At present the team plays a bet-
ter offensive than defensive game. In offense the liiie-iin-u
block well and make good holes, but in the defense they
do not break through quickly enough, and do not follow
the ball as well as they should.
As THE SEASON ADVANCES and the teams of the Con-
necticut League get into form, the struggle for the cham-
pionship seems to be narrowing down to a close- fight be-
tween Hartford High-School and Hillhouse High of New
Haven, with the chances slightly in favor of the former.
Hartford played a strong game a week ago against the
Yale Freshmen. THE GRADUATE.
1090
HARPEE'S ROUND TABLE
THF
CPUDDING
STICK
This Department is conducted in the Interest ot Girls and loiinE
Women, and the Editor will be pleated to answer any question on
the subject so far aa possible. Correspondents should address Editor.
GWENDOLINE writes that she wishes
to know the secret of being popular.
" I'd like to be a popular girl," she says,
•• a girl beloved by everybody."
This is a natural wish, and in itself not
wrong. There is a temptation to wrong iu
it if the desire be carried so far that, in
order to become popular, the girl sacrifices
valuable qualities of character, as, for in-
stance, independence of judgment aud sin-
cerity.
BUT there is no need of this. The girl
who chooses to be popular needs first to be
unselfish. She must not consider her own
ends first nor chiefly. The atmosphere en-
folding her must be that of love aud kind-
ness. You know how some girls always try
to have the best things, the best places, the
pleasant things, while they do not try to
pass the good times along to others. These
are not popular girls. Nobody can be fond
<>(' :i sellish person.
AGAIN', a really popular person must have
courage. Courage enough to be a leader.
There are only a few leaders in any city, or
school, or other corner of the world. Most
people are followers. I heard of a leader
this morning. She went to a boarding-
school a long way off from home. Among
the teachers there was a little shy Miss
Somebody whom the girls did not like.
They made fun of her prim manner ami her
queer tow-colored hair, and a sort of mincing
walk the poor lady had, and they did nut si-e
that she was really a very learned woman
who could teach them a great deal if they
would attend to her. Maria Matilda ob-
served the state of affairs, and derided that
it was unjust, so she championed the little
teacher. She sent flowers to her desk.
She listened respectfully when Miss Diffi-
dence was in the preceptor's chair. Shi-
began to be very fond of her, and discovered
that Miss Diffidence was really a dear, only
frightened out of her wits, among a crowd
of unfeeling girls. Before long Maria Ma-
tilda changed the whole situation, aud, she
being a boru leader, the rest followed her
willingly. I need not add that Maria Ma-
tilda is popular, m-i/ popular.
ANOTHER requisite for the popular girl is
siirnir-faire; she must know how to do
things. Any one of us can have this power.
It is a mere affair of paying attention, of
will, and of considering it worth while to
be able easily, in whatever place you are, to
do i lie right thing, in the right way, at the
right time.
CHARM of speech, charm of look, charm
of manner belong to the popular girl. Do
you know how she acquires charm ? By
simply being genuinely interested in those
about her. When she talks to you she
looks you in the I'ace. She has nothing to
conceal. When you look at her, you see a
good heart shining in her eyes.
Now that I have said all this, I must add
that yon would far better be unpopular your
whole life through, than to make a study of
the thing merely for the sake of ambition
or vanity. He that saveth his life shall
lose it, says the best of Books, which means
that one who does anything for purely sel-
fish— which are always purely low — mo-
tives, will in the end be sadly disappointed.
'
MONEY FOE TOADS.
IT is said that boys living in and about
San Diego, California, are making money
catching horned toads for the Hawaiian
government, which is said to he importing
them to destroy an insect which is ruining
many crops in the island. The government
want 5000 toads, and is paying the hoys $1
a dozen for them.
HOW TOD GOT INTO THE
HALLOWEEN GAMES.
rpOD FORREST was one of those kind of
JL boys that, when asked to exhibit the
contents of his pockets, could produce the
oddest lot of trash.
He stood one afternoon lazily hanging on
to a split rail fence, gazing idly over the
fields at a distant wood. " Well,'' he mut-
tered, "I reckon I've got to gather some of
those'ereuuts.al'terall. Letmesee. 'Holly
eve' comes to-morrow, and the boys won't
let mo in on the games unless I do, so here
goes."
Heaving a sigh, he climbed over the fence
and made for the woods. He penetrated
deeper among the trees than usual, and af-
ter going some distance he found himself
on higher ground and in a new spot. A
large chestnut- tree thick with burs stood
near the centre of a small knoll. Ii was
the work of a few minutes, and he was safely
perched in a fork of the branches, breaking
open the burs with his knife aud filling his
pockets with the nuts. He had filled two
of those capacious maws, when he was star-
tled hy a deep growl. There beneath him,
nosing around among the empty burs, was
a good -sized bear. It frightened him so
that he nearly lost his seat.
Tod could always Bud the humorous side
of things, however, and it seemed that one
of the burs he had thrown down had lighted
on the bear's nose and stuck there, tickling
him.
It made the bear snort and growl in the
most ludicrous fashion. This was a short-
lived matter, for through an incautious
giggle on Tod's part the animal discovered
him, and started for the foot of the tree.
Now a bear can climb a tree about as good
as any one, aud Tod knew it, but lazy as
Tod was, he had a mind for emergencies, and
seizing a handful of chestnuts, he threw
them at the hear. This second interruption
attracted the animal's attention, and he
began devouring the nuts, evidently some-
thing he was exceedingly fond of. After
that to keep the bear out of the tree Tod
was obliged to throw down handful after
handful of chestnuts, the meanwhile de-
spairing of his situation. He searched his
pockets, and, lucky thought, there among
the trash were two small rifle cartridges.
Selecting two of the largest nuts, he
bored a hole iu them and inserted the cart-
ridges. Waiting until the bear had finished
his last handful and stood greedily eying
him, he. gently threw the loaded nuts to the
ground. Anxiously he watched as the bear
nosed around in search of them. In a few
moments one of them was found, but before
the greedy animal munched on it he secured
the other. Now it was funny, but the bear
seemingly wanted to tantalize Tod, and lift-
ing his head, stood looking at him without
attempting to chew the loaded chestnuts.
Tod was scared, and tears came into his
eyes. The bear made one or two steps tow-
ards the tree, and then hesitating, sat back
on his haunches, with his eyes on Tod, aud
commenced chewing.
Suddenly a very comical look of surprise
came over that bear's face, and almost in-
stantly an explosion took place. Tod claims
that the bear jumped six feet into the air,
and when he fell back on the ground again
he never waited an instant to learn \\liat
happened him, but scampered off iu the fun-
niest lumbering fashion. Tod waited till he
thought it was safe, aud climbing down,
made tracks for home. The boys let him in
at the games on Halloween to hear him tell
his story again, as they had by that time
substantiated it by the blood tracks of the
bear. HUBERT EAKL.
Highest of all in Leavening Strength.— Latest U. S. Gov't Report.
J Baking
Powder
LUTELV PURE
AND LL-T "!' -I1'" I'1'1 Mr M U
5KEE. HAVEKFIBLD Pl^B. CU.,Cadiz, 4)hlo.
1091
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
Macadam or Asphalt
.......... Gravel
BICYCLING.
Editor will be pleased to answer
any question on tbe subject. Our
maps nnd tours contain much val-
uable data kindly supplied from the
official maps and road-books of the
League of American Wheelmen.
Recognizing the value of the work
being done by the L. A. W. the
Editor will be pleased to furnish
subscribers with membership blanks
and information so far as possible.
THE map this week
is of Boston and
its vicinity, aud the
reader iu using it OD
tbe road must remem-
ber that a great many
streets in the city have
been omitted here, aud
in many places it is
impossible to put the
names of streets, ow-
ing to the necessity
for covering so much
ground on a small
map. Every mac-
adamized or asphalted
street is, however, rep-
resented on the map.
The object in publish-
ing this map is not so
much to tell a rider
how to get about iu
the city, i.e., iu " old
Boston, "as to give him
an idea of what roads
to take in order to
reach certain suburbs
and to follow certain
bicycle routes which
we intend giving in
the Department in the
next few weeks. The
city of Boston is emi-
nently suited for bicy-
cle riding owing to the
beautiful parks which
are either finished or
in course of prepara-
tion at the present
moment. As a usual
thing, the starting-
point for a trip in the
vicinity of Boston will
be laid at Copley
Square, which is at
the intersection of
Boylston Street and
Huiitington Avenue.
The best way for
reaching any of the
suburbs or towus to
north and west is to
run through any street
from Copley Square to
Commonwealth Ave-
nue, proceeding thence
to Massachusetts Ave-
nue, turning right aud
crossing the Harvard
Bridge, thence pro-
ceeding through Cam-
bridge out North Avr-
nue to Arlington, Med-
ford, Maiden, etc.
To UKACH CHEST-
NUT HILL, Brookliue,
or Brighton, Cominon-
Copyright, 1S95, by Harper & Brothers.
1092
HAEPER'S ROUND TABLE
wealth Avenue should be followed across
Massachusetts Avenue to Beacon Street,
thence out Beacon Street. Any of the sub-
urbs further westward, sui'li as Newton,
Wellesley, Jamaica Plain, etc., can be reach-
ed over oue of the best roads that was ever
made for bicycle riders, i. i'., through the
new park that has been built along the
course of Stony Brook. To reach this you
proceed across Massachusetts Avenue on
Commonwealth Avenue and turn left into
the Fenway, and follow what has been
named "The Fens" by keeping on any of
the roads inside the park, such as the River-
way, Jamaicaway, through Leverett Park,
around Jamaica Pond, thence out through
the Arnold Arboretum, and from there tak-
ing what direction is desired on the coun-
try roads. This run through "The Fens"
and Leverett Park, which in time will be
extended from the Arboretum over to Frank-
lin Park, and thence to South Boston, will
make oue of the pleasantest short afternoon
bicycle rides in America. It will have the
advantage of never being monotonous, be-
cause there are many variations to the
route, allowing you to wind about in the
park, cross different bridges, and leave or
enter it at many different points.
To REACH MILTON, DORCHESTER, QDINCY,
etc., there are many routes, the shortest of
which, though not perhaps the best, being
to leave Copley Square, to Commonwealth
Avenue, to Massachusetts Avenue, turning
to the left and proceeding thence straight
across Boston, out Massachusetts Avenue to
Five Corners. From Five Corners the rider
should turn to the right, proceeding by
Boylston Street to Upham's Corner, thence
by Columbia Street to Franklin Park, turn-
ing to the left on Blue Hill Avenue, whence
he can either run to Hyde Park or Milton,
or, turning into Washington Street, and
proceeding by Milton, to Quiucy. Probably
the best road,tbough somewhat longer ride,
is to run out over the Feuway, Riverway,
and Jamaicaway, across Franklin Park, and
thence to Milton.
NOTE.— Map of New York city asphalted «tr«ets In No. 809. Map
of route from New York to Tarry town in No. 810. New York to
Stamford, Connecticut, in No. 81K New York to Staten Island in
No. 812. New Jersey from Hoboken to Pine Brook in No. 813.
Brooklyn in No. 814. Brooklyn to Babylon in No. 815. Brooklyn
to Northport in No. 816. Tarrytown to Poughkeepsie in No. 817.
Poughkeepaie to Hudson in No. 818. Hudson to Albany ID No. 819.
Toiteuville to Trenton in No. 850. Trenton to Philadelphia in No.
821. Philadelphia in No. 822. Philadelphia— Wissahickon Route in
No. 823. Philadelphia to West Chester in No. 824. Philadelphia
to Atlantic City— First Stone in No. 825 ; Second Stage in No. 826.
Philadelphia to Vinelaud— First Stflpe in No. 827. Second Stage in
No. 828. New \ nrk to Boston— Second Since in No. 829 ; Third Stage
in No. 830 ; Fourth Stage in No. 831 ; Fifth Stage in No. 832 ; Sixth
Stage in No. 833. Boston to Concord, 834. .
plate collecting. Usually three, and care
must be taken that the stamps are not torn
apart and that the margin is kept attached.
The usual form of imprint on the sheets of
the present issue is the following :
Bureau, Engraving & Printing.
149
Some collectors keep the imprints from
top, bottom, left, and right sides, but most
are content with one only. Plate No. 89 is
the rarest of all so far.
THE PITTSBUUG LIBRARY has set apart
an alcove for philatelic literature. The
other American libraries will probably soon
be obliged to do the same.
F. SOHOENTUAI.KK.— The U.S. silver dollar of 1800 la
worth $2. The trade dollar is worth bullion value
only.
P. M. L.— The 1845 dime is worth 20c.
H. J. LEAK*.— Confederate bills are very common,
and I therefore advise their collection, as it is com-
paratively ensy to get a very large number by the ex-
penditure of little money, and they are very interesting
to all Americans. The dimes of 1829 and 1823 are sold
by dealers at 25 cents each. Your half-dollar is worth
face only. Mexican coins are worth their weight in
silver only.
GICORGK FRANOB, Jtra. — The 5-cent U.S. Internal
Revenue is the ordinary kind, of which many millions
were used. It is sold by dealers at 2 cents.
C. E. A. — I cannot undertake to look over a large
lot of common stamps when a little study on your
part would enable you to fairly understand them your-
self. It would not be fair to you. One of the great
merits in stamp-collecting is that it trains the eye ae
well as the mind.
S. HALI — I cannot advise you about joining the
A.P.A. Personally I am not a member.
PHILATUS.
A GOOD CHILD
is usually healthy, and both conditions are developed
by use of proper food. The Gail Bordeu Eai;le Brand
Condensed Milk is the best infant's food: so easily
prepared that improper feeding is inexcusable and
unnecessary — [Adv.}
This Department H . uinlm tr'l in Ilie- int.'l^-t ..f >Uiu]» :tn.l ,1.111
collectors, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on
these subjecta so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor
Stamp Department.
PLATE-NUMBER COLLECTING is booming.
The newest development is the issue of
priced catalogues of the 1894 varieties, both
with aud without water-marks. As yet no
one has ventured to price any of the earlier
issues, but the demand for them is already
greater than the supply.
A NUMBER of correspondents ask how
many stamps are takeu from each sheet in
A.TD VKRTISE MKNTS.
Say, Boys !
We have been telling you about the
"Rugby" Watches
for some time.
If you have not sent for the
" Rugby " Catalogue, you are
pretty late. It is your misfortune.
Turn over a new leaf and send at
once. You will have your eyes opened
when you see the beautiful designs
on the cases. The catalogue tells all
about them.
The Waterbury Watch Co.,
207 Waterbury, Conn.
1093
99 -P (°
011m cX Pie C\J LyO
Children's Wear.
Corsets,
Ladies' Silk Skirts,
Ladies' Underwear,
Children's School Dresses,
Misses' Coats and Dresses,
Children's Coats and Jackets,
Ladies' Wrappers and Tea Gowns,
Children's Frocks for Dancing -school.
u
\
<5t.
NEW YORK.
Stamps,
innn Mixed Foreign Postage Stamps, including
I UUU Fiji Islands, Samoa, Hawaii, Hong Kong, for
34c. in stamps ; 10 varieties U. S. Columbian slnmps,
25c.; entire unused 5c. and luc. Columbian Enve-
lopes, 25c. the pair. Only a limited number were is-
sued by U. S. Government. E. F. GAMES, Box 2631,
San Francisco, Cal. Established, 1872.
CTAMDC I BOO fine mixed Victoria. Cape of C.
OlHIVIro ! H.. India, Japan, etc.. Kith fine Stamp
Album, only lOc. New 8o-p. Price-list free.
Agents wanted at 5O% commission. STANDARD
STAMP CO.. 4 N.cliolson Place. St. Louis. Mo. Old
U. S. and Confederate Stamps bought.
100 all dif. Venezuela,Bolivia,etc.,ouly 10c.;
IJT3I 200 all dif. Haytl,Hawait,etfc., only BOtAg'ta
w't'dat50;Scom. List FREE! C'. A. Steg-
niaini,5941C'oteBrillianteAve.,St.Loni8,Mo
Mixed Australian, etc., 10c.; 1O5 varle-
ties, aud nice album, 10c.: 15 unused, 10c.;
10 Africa, 10c.; 15Asia,10c. F.P.Vincent.C'hatlium.N.Y.
FINE PACKETS in large variety. Stamps at 50^ com.
Col's bought. Northwestern Stamp Co.,Freeport,Ill.
RARE STAMPS FREE. Send
2c. stamp. F. E. THORP, Norwich, N.Y.
Approval sheets at 50* com. Send at once.
THE OHIO STAMPCO., Carthage, Ohio.
As a sample of our 10<»> BARGAINS we will send FREE this
elegant Fountain Pen, warranted a perfect writer, and im-
mense Illue. Bargain Catalogue, f.ir lOc. to cover postage, <stc.
R.H. INQERSOU & BRO., 65 CORTLANDT ST., N. Y. CITY.
PERIODIC!!!
rer Xear:
HAKPEK'S MAGAZINE .......... Postage PYee, $4 00
HARPER'S WEEKLY ............ " 400
HARPER'S BAZAR .............. 4 00
HAEPEK'S ROUND TABLE ..... " 200
Booksellers and Postmasters usually receive subscript
tions. Subscriptions sent direct to the publishers should
be accompanied 6y Post-office Money Order or Draft.
HARPER & BROTHERS, New York, N.Y.
HAKPER'S ROUND TABLE
Chapter Programmes Again.
One of thr chief reasons that juvenile clubs often
disband for lack of interest is because nothing is
laid out fur them to do. In the first place, let it be
said that those Chapters succeed best which ad-
1 10 iv to one or the other of the following policies :
1, Choose some older person to direct every-
thing, and then obey implicitly the suggestions laid
down by that older person ; or, 2, Resolve the Chap-
ter into a committee of the whole. Let all have a
voice. Agree upon a programme, and then fol-
low it. The thing to be avoided most is the run-
ning of the Chapter by a few of its members.
After the routine business have a subject for dis-
cussion. Select this subject a long time in ad-
vance. Name some particular phase of it, and ap-
point one member to open and lead the discussion.
Then have three-minute talks, and urge each mem-
ber to speak. Doing so is admirable practice. If
others fail to get much from what is said, the
speaker will himself get a good deal, because he
acquires the habit of thinking on his feet.
A good subject for a whole winter is American
history. In order to have a definite plan in its
study take up the " Federal Principle." That might
do for the opening evening Tell the member who
is to open it to consult Moore's American Con-
gress, and learn how James Otis, in the Massa-
chusetts Assembly, made the first suggestion that
the colonies get together— furnished us with the
Federal principle itself. Find out who Otis was,
and what became of his resolution when it got to
the Virginia House of Deputies. Getting down to
the time of the Revolution, on later evenings, find
out why the Articles of Confederation failed— be-
cause they had too little Federalism in them.
Another subject which Chapters might take up
is American politics. This is a good topic for ladies
as well as for men. Use Johnston's book with the
above title for a basis, and get your arguments
fi'i>m the newspapers. Learn the structure of our
local, State, and national government.
Another topic is the study of men and women of
the past and present. Secure the exclusive use of
a good biographical dictionary. Require each mem-
ber present, under penalty of a small fine, to give
the name of some famous man or woman, and tell
why he or she is known to the world. This exer-
cise will broaden your ment.ul horizon wonder-
fully. For instance, Herbert Martin, when his turn
comes, says he has found many interesting things
in the life of Cavonr. How many members of the
average Chapter can tell who Cavour was? Yet
he was a modern man of the first rank.
Plan something to do, and your Chapter is likely
to be interested in it. To find out what that some-
thing shall be, consult your members, and follow
their wishes. Then get outside help from older
l>ijrsims. not to tell you what to do, but to aid you
to do that which you yourselves have chosen to
do. Such a course will make a strong and profit-
able Chapter. Thousands of men of affairs will
tell y»>u. if you ask them, that one of the greatest
sources of help to them in their later years was the
knowledge and enthusiasm that they acquired in
these juvenile societies.
The Word Hunts.
Not the slightest injustice will be done to any
competitor in the " Word Hunts," because full
rules were not published with the first announce-
ment. Judges will cut out of all lists obsolete or
otht-r prohibited words, and the chances of success
will n<»t lie l^ssrm-d because such words were in-
serted. Do not roll your lists.
A Special Offer.
Trarhn 's, st ud'-ii ts, superintendents of Sunday-
schools, Linlies, members of the Round Table, and
others willing to distribute ten to seventy-five
Prospectuses and personally commend HARPER'S
ROUND TABLE, will receive, according to number of
Prospectuses distributed, bound volumes of HAR-
PER'S YOUNO PEOPLE for ISO:-}, gold badges of the
Round Table Order, packet <>l tit'ty engraved visit-
ing-cards, bearing their name, with copper plate
for future use, rubber stamp bearing their name
and address, nickel pencil resembling a common
nail, or silver badge of the Round Table Order-
This offer is restricted to one person in a town or
neighborhood. In applying, state how many circu-
lars you can place in the hands of those sure to be
interested in them, what are your facilities for dis-
tributing them, and what prize you seek. Apply
early.
For an In tlm.r Evening.
The season of the year approaches when in-door
parties are held. At these parties riddles are often
called for. Several members send us some riddles.
We group them here, with answers, that you may
use them if you have need :
For no crime did I come to my end,
No rope round my neck was e'er tied ;
Though no jury decided my fate,
I was hanged from a tree till I died.
Answer: Absalom.
I was a baron bold and bad,
A follower of King John ;
I lost my place, I lost my power,
And all my wealth was gone.
My story, told in jingling rhyme,
Familiar is to all :
For I'm only # * # # * * ******,
The * * * that had a fall.
Answer: Humpty Dumpty. Egg.
My first a party leader is,
A river is my second,
Whoever bears my third will still
A man of mark be reckoned.
An emperor, in sad disgrace,
Knelt barefoot at the portal
Of him whose name my whole betrays,
In cburch and state immortal.
Answer: Hill-Dee-Braud.— Hildebrand.
I'm a very busy person
About this time of year;
At morning and at night-time
I'm almost always here,
But at high noon I steal away
To come again at close of day.
Answer: Jack Frost.
tbelpmo
At the approaching Christmas-time cannot the
Ladies, the Knights and Patrons assisting, hold
some fairs in aid of the School Fund? As a rule,
these fairs prove the most successful of any plan
so far followed. There is some work connected
with such undertakings, but there is also much
pleasure. Won't you speak to your friends about
it at once? See what they say and what they will
do. You will find all willing to help. What is
needed is a leader. Won't you take the lead— set
the ball rolling?
* * *
Prizes for Pen-Drawings.
Members are asked to bear in mind that we can-
not send proof of the prize story promptly, as sev-
eral of you ask us to do, since the Story Competi-
tion does not close till near the end of December.
It is the first prize story of that contest that is to
be illustrated. We have about fifty requests for
the proof, so the contest is to be a spirited one.
With the proof, to be sent to contestants early in
January, there will be mailed .hints about size, etc.
The sum of $10 is offered for the best illustration.
Contestants select their owtt subject. Those who
wish to try for the prize should ask for proof. If,
after you receive the proof, you think you cannot
successfully compete, you merely throw the proof
in the waste basket. Better try in the contest.
You risk nothing.
By-the-way, do you remember the spirited illus-
trations of Mr, Roosevelt's Heroes of America pub-
lished last summer? They were the professional
work of Mr. F. C. Yohn, who, as an aspiring young
man, and then living in Indianapolis, tried in one of
our pen-drawing contests, winning a first prize.
which to pay her. " Yes," said the old eypsy, " you
have five dollars hid in that old clock."
Well, my grandmother consented at this exhibi-
tion of the gypsy's supernatural powers. And then
the gypsy told her, among other things, that she
would have great trouble, leave Georgia, and go
away down South, and be left a widow, and then
years after go buck to Georgia. Now, the strange
part about this is that the gypsy's prophecy was
literally true. My grandmother, sure enough, went
away down on the Gulf coast, and her husband
died soon after of paralysis, and now, seven years
after he died, she is on her way back to Georgia.
How did the gypsy know ?
UMATILLA, FLA. IlAKKY R. WHITCOMB.
Prices of the Order's Badges.
The new badges are an exact reproduction of the
rose, in the centre of which is claimed to be the
original "round table " of King Arthur. You will
find a picture of the top of this table on the back
of the 1896 Prospectus, and the centre of it at the
bottom of the Patent. The prices of the badges
are: Pansy leaves or the rose, in silver, 10 cents —
that is, 8 cents for the badge and 8 cents for post-
age; of the rose, in gold, 85 cents, with notli ing add-
ed for postage. All are in the form of stick pins.
Members are not required to purchase badges. We
offer the silver rose as payment for giving to your
friends, whom yoxi are sure will appreciate them,
fifteen Round Table circulars. The offer is open
to all members.
How Did the Gypsy Know?
Years ago an old gypsy called on my grand-
motherand wanted to tell her fortune. My grand-
mother didn't believe the gypsy's power to tell of
future events. But t.he gypsy persisted. Finally,
grandmother declared she had no money with
1094
The Order's Handy Book.
Have you the Table's "Handy Book"? It has
thirty -six pages, mostly filled with useful facts.
Full information is given about the Order and the
School Fund ; and there are values of rare stamps
and coins ; lists of words often misspelled ; athletic
records of 1895; books that all ought to read ; in-
formation about gaining admission to West Point
and Annapolis ; populations of cities ; rules of eti-
quette, etc. You may have copies for yourself and
friends, if you apply for them. Some members get
copies and giye them to fellow-students in Sunday-
school and day-school classes.
* * »
A Question for You.
In the ninetieth line of the First Book of Virgil,
the first two words are Intonuere poti. The trans-
lation, as ;I have it, is "the poles resound," mean-
ing that, the earth echoes with the heavy thunders.
Now will somebody please explain to me how the
ancients knew there were poles without having
some idea of the roundness of the earth? Almost
the same expression is used in the 398th line, as
follows, Et cottu clnxere polujn, etc.
SCHAGHTICOKE, Naw YoBK. A LFUED C. BAKER.
A Venetian Might at (Newport.
On an evening recently Newport Harbor present-
ed a fine appearance. Of all displays ever given in
Newport this was the most beautiful. The pro-
cession started at half past eight. There were
boats of every description. They were decorated
with Chinese lanterns and colored electric lights.
Among the most, noticeable decoration was the
United States flag with a search -light behind it.
It looked as though it was painted on the sky.
Across Thames Street were electric lights con-
structed in such a way as to read :
1895.
Welcome Yachtsmen.
The Y.M C. A. had a triangle made of Japanese
lanterns. There were also pictures of the Defender
made of cloth and outlined with electric lights. It
is estimated that there were between 25.000 and
30,000 lanterns used. A great many lights were
constructed in such a way as to make the whole
outline of the boat show. There was red fire and
green fire hurning all the time, also many fireworks
and two search-lights to brighten up the harbor.
The sky had a red'lish tint. The naval reserves
had a sea-serpent about seventy-five feet long. Old
Father Neptune took things easy on the back of
the monster. The serpent looked very docile, and
its eyes snu^k out, taking in the grand display.
NKWI-OKT, R. ( CHBSTKR GLADDING.
HARPEK'S EOUND TABLE
Any questions in regard to photograph mutters will be willingly
answered by the Editor of this column, and we should be glad to hear
from any of our club who can make helpful suggestions.
ABOUT OUR PRIZE COMPETITION.
OUR annual Photograpbic Prize Compe-
tition bas, as usual, attracted a great
deal of attention, not only from members of
our Camera Club, but from many who wish
to become members in order to enter the
competition, for as this is the first time that
the ROUND TABLE bas opened a photo-
graphic competition to all amateurs without
regard to age, the interest is much more
widespread.
lu order, however, that the younger mem-
bers may not feel handicapped by being
obliged to compete with older ones, there is
a competition opened for them the same as
in former years, and any who have not pass-
ed their eighteenth birthday may enter this
competition. There are three classes —
marines, landscapes, and figure studies. A
correspondent asks if pictures of paintings
or engravings would come under the head
of figure studies. Pictures of pictures will
not be admitted to the prize competition.
All pictures must be original, not copied
from any other picture. This would not
prevent any one using a picture as a sug-
gestion of grouping or arrangement of the
subject. Take, for instance, the well-known
picture by JJurillo, "The Fruit Venders."
A photograph of this picture would not be
admitted in the prize competition, but one
might take two children, pose them as near-
ly us possible like the children in the pic-
ture, and then photograph. Such a picture
would be an original picture, but not au
original idea.
Another question that was asked was if
the pictures must be marked, or if one must
send a separate slip of paper with name on,
etc. Rule VII. says that " pictures must
be marked with the name and address of the
sender, the class to which it belongs, and the
statement whether the artist has passed his
or her eighteenth birthday." This means
that the picture must be marked, and by the
picture is understood the card on which it
is mounted. The best place to mark a pic-
ture is on the back of the card mount.
In regard to the size of a picture, a pic-
ture taken with a 4x5 camera is meant,
though a trimmed print is a little less than
this dimension. The picture must not be
trimmed enough to bring it down to 3x4,
as, of course, that would bar it from the
competition.
Competitors may send pictures to each
class, and they are not restricted as to num-
ber.
The studeuts of the Illinois College of
Photography are going to enter the compe-
tition. As this is the only college of pho-
tography in the United Stale's we shall ex-
pect to see some very tine work.
Will Sir Knight Robert II. Sanders, Jersey City,
New Jersey, plea**- send street and number. A letter
addressed to him at Jersey City has been returned In
the editor marked, "Not Found." If Sir Robert will
send address the letter will be forwarded to him at
once.
IVORY 5 GAP
IT FLOATS
A luxury is "Anything which pleases the senses and is also costly
or difficult to obtain."
Ivory Soap pleases the senses, but is neither costly nor difficult
to obtain. Your grocer keeps it.
THE PROCTER £: QAMQLE Co., OIN'TI
Every whale
has barnacles-
every success
has imitators.
I
The De Long
1 Patent Hook and Eye.
\
See that
hump?
GRATEFUL-COMFORTING.
EPPS'S COCOA.
BREAKFAST-SUPPER.
" By a thorough knowledge of the natural laws which
govern the operations of digestion and nutrition, and by
a careful application of the fine properties of well-selected
Cocoa, Mr. Epps has provided for our breakfast and
supper a delicately flavored beverage which may save us
many heavy doctors* bills. It is by the judicious use of
such articles of diet that a constitution may be gradually
built up until strong enough to resist every tendency to
disease. Hundreds of subtle maladies are floating around
us ready to attack wherever there is a weak point. We
may escape many a fatal shaft by keeping ourselves
well fortified with pure blood and a properly nourished
frame." — Civil Service Gazette.
Made simply with boiling water or milk. Sold only
in half-pound tins, by Grocers, labelled thus :
JAMES EPPS & CO., Ltd.,
Homoeopathic Chemists, London, England.
CARD PRINTERfltfg
Richardson
& De Long Erot.,
Philadelphia.
"Waterloo"
The popular
and exciting new
battle - game for
2, 3, or 4 players.
For young or old.
Price $1.25.
The Parker Games
All PLAY WELL!
Ask for " Inncccn, v AlnvnJ" "Napoleon"
" Chivalrv," " ]\inhv Doodle."
Sold Everywhere.
BALTIMOREAN PRINTING - PRESS
has earned more money for boys
th;m nil other presses Hi tbemnr-
k''t. Iloys, don't idle awjiy yonr
time when you c»n buy a self-
inkincr print ing-press, type, and
complete outfit for $5.0(1. Write
for particulars, there is money
in it for you
THE J.'F. \V. IMUtMAX CO.,
Uallhuurt, Mil.. 1 v \
HEAD NOISES CURED
by my INVISIBLE Tul.tiUr ,. ushions. Havu helped
moru t.> umid UC AD than all other de-
vices combine'.. Wlu'-p'-'rs HCHnd. Help eiirs us glasses
ilouyes. F.HlMeoXf8&8 B'dway.N.Y. Bootof proofs FREE
1095
"When Christmas was Christmas."
44 Seven
Crown
Jewels."
A precious collection it is, indeed,
both of old and new, this "Christmas
in Song and Story," with its nearly
three hundred Songs and Hymns and
Carols, each in its musical setting.
" Where can another such garner be
found, so rare, so choice, and so full?"
Twenty-two full-page illustrations, of
Christmas subjects, from Nast to
Raphael. The literary selections are
long, but each is complete. " To have
these seven crown jewels brought to-
gether into one diadem," says Christ-
i in Culture, " is alone worth more than
is asked for the entire work, to say
nothing of its rich setting both musi-
cal and pictorial." Large quarto,
crims .n cloth, £2.50. Address
Harper & Brothers. New York.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
THRILLING EXPERIENCE OF TWO YOUNG HEATHENS WHO LEARNED TO SKATE.
FORCE OF HABIT.
FORCE of habit impels
us to do a great many ri-
diculous tilings. That
clever little compendium
of wit and information,
Tit Hits, well illnstrati-s
this fact with a story of a
railway porter, living- in
Lancashire, who was ill
the habit of frequently
getting up in his sleep,
and from whose actions it
was evident that his daily
occupation was ever pres-
ent iu his mind. One
night he jumped up hur-
riedly, rau down to the
kitchen, vigorously opened
the oven door, and cried
out, " Change here for Bol-
ton, Bury, and Manches-
ter." '
A PROPER RETORT.
A GOOD story is told of
a self -respecting carpen-
ter who was sent to make
some repairs in a private
house. As he entered the
room in which the work
was to be done, accompa-
nied liy his apprentice, the
lady of the house called
out, " Mary, see that uiy
jewel-case is locked."
The carpenter under-
stood, and, as he was an
honest man, he was indig-
nant. He had his oppor-
tunity, however, and he
used it. He removed his
watch and chain from his
waistcoat with a signifi-
cant air, and gave them
to his apprentice.
" John," he said,
these back to the
It seems that this
isn't safe."
' take
shop,
house
I. TlIKY TIED THICIR QUEUK8 TOGETHER, SO THAT IF EITUKK ItltOKF. THROUGH HE WOULD BE
RESCUED BY Til 1C OTHER. II. IT SEEMED DELIGHTFUL UNTIL — III. ONE OF THEM SLIPPED AND
BOTH FELL; IV. BuT AFTEE A I.ITTLK PRAOTIOE THEY GOT ON QUITE NIOELY, WHEN — V. THEY'
BOTH BROKE THROUGH, AND VI. TmCIlt CAUTION AND FORETHOUGHT PBOVEU THE MEANS OF
SAYING THEIR LIVES.
A TIMELESS TOWN.
THE old proverb says that time was made for slaves. It
is certainly true that it was not made for Alsacians, if the
following story told by a traveller lately returned from
Alsace be true. Says he : "On my return from Belchen, I
looked upon the beautiful villages of the Leweu Valley,
and being a tourist who likes to poke his nose into every-
thing, I turned, by chance, into the church at Kircliberg.
On coming out I took out my watch to regulate it by the
clock in the church tower. But there was no clock to be
seen. Hence I went into the village iuu, and there asked
the time. But my host could not oblige me. ' I can't tell
you exactly, for, you see,' he said, ' \ve have no use for
clocks. In the morning we go by the smoke rising from
the chimney at the parsonage up on the hill. The parson-
age people are very regular. We dine when dinner is
ready. At 4 P.M. the whistle of the train coming from
ilassimiuster tells us that the time has come for another
meal, and at night we know that it is time to go to bed
when it is dark. On Sunday we go to church when the
bell rings. Our parson is a very easy-going man, and he
doesn't mind beginning half an hour sooner or later."
SOMETHING WRONG.
IT was a very cold morn-
ing, and Bobbie canie rush-
ing into the house very
much excited.
" Mouimer," he cried, " there's something the matter with
me. Please send for the doctor. I'm breathing fog .'"
A DOG STORY.
A LONDON dog story is apt to be a hard sort of a tale to
believe, but it is never lacking in interest. The latest is
of a dog who takes a daily walk with its mistress. The
animal has observed that at a certain crossing the police-
man stops the traffic to allow his mistress to pass over.
The other day the dog went out alone, and when he came
to the crossing he barked to attract the policeman's atten-
tion. The policeman observed what the dog wanted. He
stopped the traffic, and the dog walked solemnly across.
A MISTAKE.
" Now, Jimmie," said his teacher, " let us take up the
alphabet. There are iu all twenty-six letters."
" Hoh!" giggled Jimmie.
" What are you laughing at?" asked the teacher.
" You're trying to fool me," said Jimmie, " 'bout them
letters. Our postman has more'u a hundred every morn-
ing."
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