Front Cover
 The wedding of the gold pen and...
 A lullaby
 The transit of Venus
 How Trotty went to the great...
 The story of the maple-tree
 Si Jura; or, The origin of...
 Tate's doll's wedding
 How the cars stopped
 A half-dozen young rascals
 Legends and superstitions
 A billy-goat school-master
 The hidden treasure
 The ants' Monday dinner
 The lark's nest
 The coon's mistake
 At the window
 Old peanuts' Thanksgiving
 Dick Hardin at the sea-shore
 Venus of Milo
 The aard-vark
 The ghost that Lucy saw
 East Indian toys
 Miss Malony on the Chinese...
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 The Japanese mamma and baby - How...
 Back Cover


St. Nicholas
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00015
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas
Uniform Title: St. Nicholas (New York, N.Y.)
Portion of title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner
Place of Publication: New York
Publication Date: -c1943
Frequency: monthly
Subjects / Keywords: Children's literature -- Periodicals   ( lcsh )
Genre: periodical   ( marcgt )
serial   ( sobekcm )
Dates or Sequential Designation: -v. 67, no. 4 (Feb. 1940) ; v. 70, no. 1 (Mar. 1943)-v. 70, no. 4 (June 1943).
Dates or Sequential Designation: Began with: Vol. 1, no. 1, Nov. 1873.
Numbering Peculiarities: Suspended Mar. 1940-Feb. 1943; vols. 68-69 omitted.
Issuing Body: Published by: Century, Aug. 1881- ; by Educational Pub. Corp. -1940; by St. Nicholas Magazine, 1943.
General Note: Description based on: Vol. 2, no. 12 (Oct. 1875); title from cover.
General Note: Conducted by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: oclc - 01764817
lccn - 04012675
System ID: UF00065513:00015
 Related Items
Preceded by: Our young folks
Preceded by: Children's hour (Philadelphia, Penn.)
Preceded by: Little corporal
Preceded by: Schoolday magazine
Preceded by: Wide awake

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
    The wedding of the gold pen and the inkstand
        Page 6
    A lullaby
        Page 7
    The transit of Venus
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
    How Trotty went to the great funeral
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
    The story of the maple-tree
        Page 16
        Page 17
    Si Jura; or, The origin of rice
        Page 18
        Page 19
    Tate's doll's wedding
        Page 20
        Page 21
    How the cars stopped
        Page 22
        Page 23
    A half-dozen young rascals
        Page 24
        Page 25
    Legends and superstitions
        Page 26
        Page 27
    A billy-goat school-master
        Page 28
        Page 29
    The hidden treasure
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
    The ants' Monday dinner
        Page 33
        Page 34
    The lark's nest
        Page 35
    The coon's mistake
        Page 36
        Page 37
    At the window
        Page 38
    Old peanuts' Thanksgiving
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
    Dick Hardin at the sea-shore
        Page 45
        Page 46
    Venus of Milo
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
    The aard-vark
        Page 50
    The ghost that Lucy saw
        Page 51
    East Indian toys
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
    Miss Malony on the Chinese question
        Page 56
    The letter-box
        Page 57
        Page 58
    The riddle-box
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
    The Japanese mamma and baby - How the stranger bought a cow for two hens
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text



(From the Russian of Ivan Beshtiev.)


I. ,
IN the military school at Cronstadt the cadets
have a custom of calling for a story from the
Colonel-superintendent, at Easter. Russian lads,
it should be remarked, have not nearly so many
story books as American boys. Hence, a story
from the Colonel is highly prized; and as soon as
the Easter festival comes they demand it clamor-
ously, though at other times they would not think
of addressing their superior officer, save in the most
respectful manner. But at Easter there is great
freedom. It will be remembered that in Russia
all classes exchange the kiss of Christian greeting
at Easter; and in the military' schools the Czar
himself kisses the cadets, in full uniform.
I There are very many quaint and peculiar customs
common to the Russians.
On the present occasion the lads who had called
for the Easter story were all assembled in the right
wing of the ordnance room. It was past three
o'clock; they were in full dress. Colonel Demi-
doff passed down the forms, saluting each in turn,
then took his seat on the platform, smiling under
his grey mustaches.
So then you want your story," said he, in his
crisp, military tones. A story it shall be. I will
tell you of a Kalmuck boy who was once my horse-
boy, and who has risen since then by his courage
and energy to be a captain in the Kier regiment
of Cossacks.
"I tell you of this boy because I want you to

see and to realize that a stout heart, a brave mind
and an active body will always make their way in
the world, even from the lowest ranks in life; and
at the same time I wish you to remember that
courage, good sense and bodily strength can each
be cultivated, and are, to great extent, within the
reach of every one of you.
His name was Tchumpin.
But first, I must tell you how this Kalmuck lad
came to be my horse-boy. At that time I held
the rank of major and was attached to the corps of
mining engineers at Barnaoul, in South-west Si-
beria. Barnaoul is the head-quarters of the mining
operations carried on in the Altai mountains. All
the gold and silver which the Siberian mines yield
belongs, as you well know, to His Majesty the
Czar; and the mining engineers are as much in
his service. as are the military officers. Gold is ob-
tained throughout a great extent of the Altai range.
Every year new tracts and districts are explored
and new mines, with their works, are established.
On the first day of May of that year I was de-
tailed, together with an assistant engineer and a
guard of seven Cossacks, to explore one of the
southerly spurs of the range, and examine the beds
of the torrents, both those "flowing into the Irtish
and those flowing southward into the great lake of
Altin Kool. Our march would take us nearly
eight hundred versts* from Barnaoul. We were
to be gone the whole summer. To carry our in-
struments and our provisions, which consisted

A verst is 3,50s ft. ; about two-thirds of an English mile.



No. i.


simply of dried black bread, sugar, tea and vodka,*
we had a drove of twenty-four pack-horses. And
as the journey was performed on horseback, we
each had one saddle-horse, and the Cossacks were
well mounted. *
The country through which we were to pass
was a wild, unexplored region. Constant care,
would be needed to keep our animals and baggage
from straying and getting lost in the forests or
among the crags. I had given orders that drivers
should be obtained; and I was much astonished to
learn on the morning of our march that Lieut.
Stephanish, my assistant, had hired but one boy
for the whole management of the baggage. On
expressing my surprise and displeasure, which I
did in round terms, Lieut. Stephanish replied that
he was a very active, hardy lad, and used to horses
from his childhood. Even then I was but half
satisfied, and wishing to see the boy, rode back to
the rear of the column. There I espied him,
perched on the pack of the hindmost horse. He
instantly saw that I was observing him, but merely
sat a little straighter and bore himself like a
conscious soldier. You would have laughed to see
him. He was not more than fourteen years old,
and scarcely as tall as any of you at that age. But
though not heavily built, he was supple and active
as a lynx. His eyes were jet black and sparkled
like stars. He had a high, round head with a
single long tuft of crow-black hair hanging from
the crown far down his back. His features wore a
look of energy which was almost eagerness. There
was that about the lad which inspired confidence,
and I said no more to Lieut. Stephanish, though I
still feared that he had trusted too much to a mere
boy, even though he might prove smart for his
All day we rode steadily southward, with the
lofty blue peaks of the Altai towering to the east.
The air was wonderfully clear. The clouds floated
like silvery fleeces at vast heights. To the west-
ward a great steppe was beginning to show green
through its dun, dead mantle of the past year. In
all the little thickets we could hear the reftcheckst
calling softly to each other, while here and there
a great gluckaree sprang up from the larches with
mighty flaps of its wings and soared splendidly
away. Hares were constantly running before us;
and shortly after noon we sighted five wolves a few
hundred yards to the right of our course. They
stood on the edge of a green birch thicket and eyed
us sullenly, neither offering to attack us nor to run
away. It was a wild country, and we were bound
for still more savage solitudes, where aside from
wild beasts, we should have to guard against the

attacks of robber-bands from the hordes of the
On the second day we entered among the
mountains, following the valley of the river Tchu-
rish. The weather, which had been so fine when
we left Barnaoul, now changed. Dark and lowery
masses of cloud hung over the mountains on both
sides of the valley, and several times during the
afternoon we heard the heavy rumble of thunder.
That night we encamped on the north bank of the
river in a wood of larches, surrounded by immense
rocks and jagged crags.
"As it'portended rain my tent was pitched
against the trunks of three great larches growing
close together, the foliage of which was so thick
overhead that the Cossacks declared no rain would
penetrate it. In front a great fire was kindled, about
which tea was prepared and drank, and our even-
ing rations eaten before darkness gathered in. Near
by, the river roared and foamed over large rocks
with a ponderous, plunging sound. The red glare
from our fire was reflected on the torrent. It was
a sheltered nook; but I saw that the blackening
clouds were rolling down in somber masses, and the
thunder still muttered hoarsely. The Cossacks had
set imp their tent near by; and the horses were
tethered to the neighboring trees.
"Having written up my journal and placed my
arms where they would be secure from the storm,
which I felt sure would burst upon us before morn-
ing, I spread my voilocks upon boughs and before
long fell asleep.
"A tremendous clap of thunder startled me on a
sudden. I sat up and looked around. Lieut.
Stephanish was still sleeping. The rain was pour-
ing down. It beat into the tent in a thick mist.
Immediately there came a second deafening crash,
then others in quick succession. The storm was
upon us. I took out my watch, and by a flash of
the almost continuous, lightning saw that it was
nearly one o'clock. Outside, our fire was ex-
tinguished. The roar of the river was drowned in
the roar of the storm, which was rushing down the
valley, wrenching off branches and uprooting
mighty trees in its course. The thunder grew still
louder and heavier. Every flash seemed nearer.
Those who have never witnessed the electric tem-
pests of Siberia can have little idea of them. The
clouds came overhead and hung there with one
continuous blaze and roar. Stephanish roused up
and stared about him. With the flashes we could
see the clouds which seemed to rest in a black mass
on the tree-tops.
"And now happened a most singular electric
phenomenon, such as I have never witnessed in any

* Vodka, the Russian whisky. f Reptchecks, tree-partridges. ( Gluckaree, a kind of large black cock, often weighing thirty pounds.
Voilocks, blankets ; woolen robes.



other country. The very trees seemed on fire.
Blue and lambent flames tinged the boughs and
played about the trunks. It was a cold, pale light,
in which objects were shown in ghastly and un-
earthly guise. The Cossacks came crowding into
my tent, muttering their prayers and devoutly
crossing themselves. They shuddered and quaked
with their fears. Little Tchumpin came in behind
them. Thinking the boy must be greatly terrified,
I called him to my side and bade him sit down by
me on the voilocks. Judge, then, of my surprise,
when in a lull of thunder, he said to me in low, yet
resolute tones, 'Never mind it, barin. I've seen
it worse than this !'
I had thought him terrified, and here the little
monkey was trying to encourage me!
A moment later one of the horses broke loose,
and began to run about, snorting loudly. Before I
could prevent him, the boy rushed out and did not
return till the horse was again securely altered.
"For more than three hours the storm continued
with its thickly-streaming fires and terrific thunder-
peals, beneath which the earth trembled at every
crash. Never shall I forget that night of tempest
and flame, nor with it the dauntless little fellow who
stood cool when strong men shuddered with terror.
It was the first glimpse I had of his wonderful spirit
and pluck. But I determined not to spoil the lad
by making too much of him.
The next day we went on up the valley of the
Tchurish, crossed the dividing ridge which marks
its head-springs, and thence descended upon a wide
desert steppe, intersected by sterile, rocky ridges;
which, like great sea-waves, succeeded each other
for more than fifty versts.
On these bare ridges we began to see serpents.
They glided away from before us with angry hisses.
They were of several varieties. The first we saw
were of a slatey-grey color, two or three feet long,
and rather sluggish. I do not think that these
were poisonous. The horses did not shy from
them as they often do from venomous snakes. We
trod many under foot. But on one of the succeed-
ing ridges we fell in with a larger species, jet black
in color, more than a yard in length, and very
active. These, however, ran swiftly away at our
Farther on, a different and very beautiful species
began to rear their heads and hiss at our approach.
They were of a pale green hue, clouded with black
and had deep crimson spots on their sides. They
were as large as the black variety, but not nearly so
active. -The horses shied slightly from these.
Nevertheless, we made our way without hindrance,
till on coming to the foot of an unusually high and
stony ridge my horse suddenly stopped short,
Barin, sir, or your honor.

snorting violently. In a second I saw the cause of
its alarm. On a rock, half-a-dozen yards away, a
much larger serpent lay coiled. It had seen us.
Slowly it raised its head a foot or more. Its eyes
were red, like live coals. Its tongue played and it
began to hiss furiously. The Cossacks shouted to
warn me that its bite was sure death. They knew
it well and dared not go near it. I feared lest
it might strike the legs of the horses, and drawing
one of my pistols fired at its neck, but missed it.
I was about to draw my other pistol, when little
Tchumpin, who had slipped down from his horse,
stole past my side, whip in hand.
I will soon kill it, barin,' he said.
His air was so confident I determined to let him
try. His whip was of the fashion in use with Tartar
teamsters,-a heavy, ashen stock, to which is fast-
ened a long lash, or thong, of leather. Carefully
measuring the distance with his eye, the boy
whirled the whip around his head in a circle, then
struck out at the hissing reptile. The thong
snapped almost as loudly as the pistol shot as the
tip of it fell on the snake's crest, causing it to fall at
full length off the rock. But it was only stunned.
Before it could recover itself, however, Tchumpin
took up a stone, and throwing it, made so deft a
cast as to nearly sever its head from its body. Two
of the Cossacks, who had dismounted, now assisted
him to finish the reptile. On stretching out this
serpent's body I found it to measure an inch over
two yards in length, and its body was rather thick
in proportion. It had two venomous fangs. Its
color was a deep brown, with red :and green
spangles on its sides. I have since learned that the
celebrated cobra of India is not more fatal in its
bite than this parti-colored serpent of the steppes.
After this adventure, Tchumpin went ahead
with his whip for several versts, and killed several
serpents of the same species, but none so large as
the first.
On the third day, after crossing this steppe
and entering the mountains to the southward, we
descended into the valley of another large stream
which bears no name on the maps, but which I
called Tchumpin,' from an exploit performed by
our hardy little horse-boy. It is a very rapid river.
On the night after reaching it in the afternoon, we
encamped beside a roaring farrock.f The parrock
was not far from two hundred yards in length, with
a fall of fifty or sixty feet. Huge boulders and
ledges rose here and there in the channel, while
the water roared and foamed about the many
sunken rocks, casting up white jets, and showing
glassy, rushing currents, pouring with arrowy swift-
ness, or whirling in fearful whirlpools. Bare,
water-worn ledges overhung the torrent. As we
t Parrock, a boiling rapid, or cascade.



stood on the overhanging ledges the roar was
almost deafening.
Early the next morning, while dressing, I
heard the Cossacks shouting and laughing, and on
going outside my tent, I saw little Tchumpin run-
ning along the ledges which overhung the parrock.
He had taken off his clothes and the sun glistened
on his fresh, naked body. The Cossacks stood to-
gether on a ledge watching him. After running
up the bank a considerable distance, the boy poised
himself for a moment on a projecting rock, then
plunged head foremost into the rapid. I could
scarcely believe my eyes. It seemed a leap to cer-
tain death. A second later his head popped up
amid the foam, and he was swept down past me
like a cork, but with his head well above water, and
steering amid the rocks like a salmon. I expected
to see him dashed on the jagged boulders, or drawn
into the roaring eddies; but on he went, past
them all, darting like an eel on the gleaming,
black currents. The Cossacks ran along the
ledges, but were soon left far behind. A moment
more and he had disappeared far down the parrock.
I had no thought that he would get out alive. It
seemed impossible to pass through the rapid and
live. But in less than a minute I saw him climb up
on the rocks below, where he sat for a moment to
rest. Then seeing me standing on the ledges he
came running up, laughing and brushing the drops
from his hair.
'Are you not afraid to risk your life thus?' I
said, sternly. Do you not know the danger?'
The bold boy laughed, and his fearless eyes
Eta nichevo, barin ; ya ockin lubit!'* he
And before I could interpose to forbid it he
darted off and again cast himself into the plunging
waters. I saw him rise like a duck half out of the
torrent, take a look ahead, and then he was whirled
by us faster than any of the Cossacks could run.
In less than a minute he had gone the whole length
of the parrock, borne on the surface of the mighty
flood. Once in the stiller waters below, he swam
ashore and again came running up where I stood,
laughing in the wild glee with which the adventure
had inspired him.
Truly,' I said, his safety is in his very fear-
lessness.' But the Cossacks exclaimed that he was
After crossing the desert steppe where serpetits
so abounded, and after making our way over an-
other ridge of the Altai, we descended into the
grassy plains which border on the great river
Irtish. This was the country of the Kirgis, a
pastoral, or nomadic, people of the Tartar race,

like the Kalmucks, but differing considerably in
language and in customs. Some of these people
are robbers, and live by plundering their more
peaceful countrymen who, like the patriarchs of
whom the priest read to us from the Bible this
morning, have great herds of camels, horses, sheep
and goats. These have no fixed place of residence,
but wander through the vast plains wherever. there
is grass fdr their cattle.
"We had not proceeded more than a dozen
versts across this plain before we discovered at a
distance, broad, dark patches, which the Cossacks
declared to be droves of horses. We ivere ap-
proaching the encampment of some Kirgis chief, or

sultan, as he is called. (It is from this same race



fully rule Constantinople, are descended).

very likely rob and murder you. Our arms were
first carefully prepared; we then moved forward at

bush-fringed lake in the midst of the plain. About

* It is nothing, your honor; I love it dearly.


t Kalat, a kind of long frock.


it were hundreds of camels. Herds of dark bay
horses neighed shrilly as we rode past them ; and
as we drew nearer packs of savage dogs came rush-
ing forth, challenging loudly and uttering fierce
growls. I feared lest they should even grapple with
our horses and pull them down, like the wolves of
the steppe, from which they have descended. But
the lad, Tchumpin, gave them sounding strokes
with his long whip, from which they sprang aside,
yelping. One of the Cossacks had spent some
years among the Kirgis and, could speak their
language. This man I now sent on to announce
our arrival to the chief, or sultan, who immediately
sent a dozen of their Kirgis servants to meet me
and conduct me to his presence. These men were
richly clad in beautiful silk kalats and broad trousers,
and after saluting me with profound respect led the
way to a large yourt,* near which a long spear with
a tuft of black horse-tail was planted in the ground.
A tall, fine-featured old man was standing in the
door, and as I drew rein he came forward and gave
me his hand to assist me to dismount, then touched
my breast, first with the fingers of his right hand,
then with those of his left, and bade me welcome
The Cossack told him that I was the servant of
the great Czar of the West, the lord of all Northern
Asia, and that I was come to explore the country.
This sultan's name was Souk. He at once
conducted me into the your. The servants spread
a beautiful Bokarian carpet, on which I was invited
to be seated. Tea was then brought in small
Chinese bowls.
Sultan Souk was about seventy years of age,
stout and squarely built, with broad Tartar features
and fine, flowing grey beard. He wore constantly
a close-fitting cap of red silk, embroidered with
silver. His dress was a long striped robe, or kalat,
of crimson and yellow silk, with a white shawl about
his waist. His boots were of red leather, with very
high heels. His wife was a young and very hand-
some Kirgis woman, dressed in a black robe of
Chinese satin, with a-red silk shawl about her waist,
and a white muslin turban, or cap. She and her
two daughters were seated on voilocks on the farther
side of the your.
The furniture and household utensils of these
yourts are very simple. The fire is made on the
ground, and in the center of the yourt, while the
smoke passes through a hole directly overhead.
The carpets are spread opposite the door-way.
Strong boxes, made of a dark, heavy wood, contain
the family riches, which sometimes consist of great
numbers of ambas, or silver bricks, from the Altai
mines. There are rolls of rich carpeting from
Bokhara, and silks from China

On one side is the kourmis vessel,-a large
leather sack, holding from one to two hogsheads.
Into this mares' milk is poured each day in summer,
where it soon ferments and turns to koumis, the
drink so prized by the Kirgis. A bowl of this
drink was offered me by Sultan Souk, and out of
courtesy I drank a part of it; but I cannot say -l,:h
I liked it. The koumis sack is never washed, nor
even rinsed out. The Kirgis have a saying that to
wash this vessel will not only spoil the koumis, but
bring ill-luck to the family.
I was shown the sultan's horse trappings. His
saddle was a very fine one, decorated with silver
inlaid on iron. The cushions were of velvet. The
bridle was covered with small iron plates, inlaid in
the same manner. These trappings cost their
owner fifty horses, I was informed.
The sultan's battle-axe was also a very rich
and curious weapon. The handle was nearly five
feet long, of heavy, dark wood, bound with silver
rings, and the head was double-edged and very
sharp. A thong through a ring in the end of the
handle fastened it to his wrist when armed for
"That evening three sheep were cooked in a
great iron cauldron; and this boiled mutton, to-
gether with koumis, tea and sugar-candies, com-
posed our supper. That night Lieut. Stephanish
and myself slept on a carpet in the sultan's yourt.
The Cossacks, with little Tchumpin, passed the
night in an adjoining yourt; for the sultan's en-
campment consisted of not less than ten of these
large lodges.
"In the morning we parted with friendly feelings.
Our course was now toward the Irtish, the
north banks of which we reached the next day.
There are no bridges in these Tartar countries.
The rivers must be forded or crossed in boats. At
this point the Irtish is fully two hundred yards in
width, and runs past in a swift, strong current.
Not more than a verst below there was a consider-
able cataract, the roar of which was plainly audible
from where we stood. There were no boats. The
country was an uninhabited desert. How we were
to cross so broad and so rapid a stream was a seri-
ous question with us. We spent the night in a
willow copse on the bank.
"Very early the next morning, the lad Tchumpin
pulled aside the flap of my tent, and bidding me
good morning, told me that half a verst below our
camp he had discovered a Kirgis canoe, made of a
single log, drawn up on the opposite bank, and if
it was my pleasure he would swim the river and
paddle it across for our use.
But the current is swift,' I said. 'Are you
not afraid ?'

* Yourt, a large lodge or tent of skins. Formerly these yourts were mounted on large wheeled platforms or carts.



"'Oh, no!' he exclaimed, laughing; 'it is paddle a clumsy log canoe across it are feats which
nothing at all.' few men could have accomplished. Yet to this
I gave him leave ; and in a moment he had daring lad these feats seemed but as play. In less
thrown off his red frock and trousers and plunged than twenty minutes he had returned with the
in like a duck. To swim so rapid a stream and canoe, paddling it swiftly against the current.
(Conchusion next month.) "



THE Gold Pen wooed the Inkstand.
The Inkstand was of crystal, with a carved silver
top. It evidently came of an aristocratic family,
and was therefore a fitting match for the Gold Pen,
which also was an aristocrat and carried itself
haughtily toward the Goose-quill and the Steel
Pens, its poor relations.
The wedding was a splendid affair. All the in-
habitants of the Table were invited, and the great
Unabridged Dictionary-the true autocrat of the
Writing-Table-gave away the bride, while the fat
Pen-Wiper, in scarlet and black cashmere, sobbed
audibly. (Not that there was anything to sob
about, but she had heard that it was customary to
cry at weddings.)
After the ceremony, "the happy pair received
the congratulations of their large and distinguished
circle of acquaintances," as the newspaper reporters
"Many happy returns," blundered the Goose-
quill, claiming his privilege as a relation of kissing
the bride. The Goose-quill had got itself a new
nib for the occasion, and quite plumed itself on its
"Wish you joy!" said the Steel Pen, a brisk,
business-like sort of fellow, leading forward the Pen-
Joy !" echoed the Pen-Wiper, with a fresh burst
of sobs.
May life's cares rest lightly upon you!" said
the Paper-Weight.
Stick to each other through thick and thin! "
said the Mucilage-Bottle.
May the impress of the beloved image be in-
delible in each heart!" exclaimed the phial of
"I congratulate you, madame," said the quire
of Legal-Cap. The bridegroom is a distinguished

fellow-' Stylus fotentior quam gladius!' Pardon
the Latin; but we lawyers, you know, He !
he! And he retired with a smirk, quite satisfied
with his display of erudition.
Live ever in a Fool's Paradise growled the
Foolscap, who was a disappointed old bachelor.
May the Star of Love never set in the heaven
of your happiness simpered the rose-tinted Note-
Paper, who was always fearfully sentimental, and
was rumored to be herself in love with the Violet
"Jove from your heads avert his awful wrath,
And shower blessings on your future path!

sighed the Violet Ink, who was said to have actually
written poetry!
(At this the Note-Paper turned a shade rosier
and murmured, How sweet ")
"Come right up to the mark of duty," said the
old Black-walnut Ruler, and your line of life will
never go crooked."
May love be never erased from your hearts !"
said the India-Rubber.
"And may nothing ever divide you said the
Ivory Paper-Cutter.
Let all your actions bear the right stamp; and
above all, never tell a lie!" said the Postage-Stamp
(which bore the portrait of George Washington,
and must therefore be excused for introducing the
latter remark).
Don't let the little rubs of life wear out your
mutual kindliness, my dears said the matronly
old Eraser.
Hech, lad !" cried the little Scotch-plaid Index,
which came tumbling out of a volume of Burns,
"A lang life an' a happy one to you an' your
bonny bride "
May you always be wrapped up in each other !"


said the package of Envelopes, who came up in a
Though the Gordian Knot was cut," said the
Penknife (a sharp chap), "may this True-Lover's
Knot never, be severed !"
I hope you'll make- your mark in life," said
the blunt old Lead-Pencil.
Look closely," said a Pocket-Microscope; but
for virtues-not for faults."
May the remembrance of each unkind word or

deed be quickly blotted out! exclaimed the Blot-
Bless ye, my children, bless ye Be happy 1 "
said the Big Dictionary, in the (theatrically) pater-
nal manner.
The Gold Pen and the Inkstand did not make a
wedding tour, but went to live immediately in a
beautiful bronze stand-dish, in the center of the
And there they are at this very moment.



ROCKABY, lullaby, bees in the clover !-
Crooning so drowsily, crying so low-
Rockaby, lullaby, dear little rover!
Down into wonderland-
Down to the under-land-
Go, oh go !
Down into wonderland go !

Rockaby, lullaby, rain on the clover!
Tears on the eyelids that waver and weep;
Rockaby, lullaby-bending it over
Down on the mother-world,
Down on the other world !
Sleep, oh sleep !
Down on the mother-world sleep !

Rockaby, lullaby, d-" mn the clover !
"Dew on the eyes t -, .II1 :-''ri, 1 '
Rockaby, lullaby, d.:.i !,tii. i.. *r !
Into the still ..!. --
Into the lily- .:. I.1
Gone, olh -..r:
Into the lily-world, .-.,,- !

I- I .X j

-- t-, '.'

- ~I -t-~




VERY much has been said and written during the
last two years about the transit of Venus, which is
to occur December 8, 1874. The interest which is
so generally felt in regard to it has doubtless reached
many of the readers of this magazine, and they
very naturally begin to ask, What is a transit of
Venus, and why is it of so much importance?"
This is what I will try to explain.
You perhaps all know that Venus, the brightest
of the planets, is not as far from the sun as the
earth, and that it revolves round the sun in an orbit
similar to the earth's orbit. In each revolution,
therefore, Venus passes between the earth and sun,

and is then said to be in inferior conjunction.
When it is on the opposite side of the sun from the
earth it is in superior conjunction. Thus, in fig. I,
suppose E F C represents the orbit of the earth,
A B V that of Venus, and S the sun. If Venus is
at v when the earth is at E, it is in inferior con-
junction. If it is at A when the earth is at E,
it is in superior conjunction. But the orbit of
Venus, as you see by the figure, is not in the same
plane with that of the earth. Now if it were ex-
tended until it met the earth's orbit, it would be
represented by the dotted line C D E, and it would
cross the earth's orbit at the points E and C.
These points, or the corresponding places A and v,
in the real orbit of Venus, are called its nodes.
Now, because of this inclination of the two orbits,
the sun, Venus and the earth will be in the same
line only when Venus is at, or near, one of its nodes
at the time of conjunction. For, if Venus is at B
when the earth is at F, it would be in inferior con-
junction, because it is in that part of its orbit which
is most directly between the earth and sun; but we
should see it in the direction of G. If, however, it
is at its node, v, at the time of conjunction, or
when the earth is at E, we see it in the same line as
the sun, and it then appears to pass directly across
the sun's disc. This is what is called a transit of

Venus. Venus is opaque, like the earth, shining
by the reflected light of the sun; therefore the
bright side is toward the sun, and at the time of a
transit it appears to us like a dark spot upon the
sun's bright surface.
The transits of Venus happen only at rare inter-
vals, because it is seldom that the three bodies are
thus situated in reference to each other. They
occur in pairs, eight years apart, and between the
pairs are one hundred and five, or else one hundred
and twenty-two years.
The fact that they so rarely happen occasions an
interest in the transits; but this is by no means
the only reason why they are so carefully watched.
Their chief importance lies in this: By observing
the path which the planet makes across the sun we
obtain data from which the distance of the earth
from the sun can be calculated. The relative dis-
tances of all the planets from the sun is known;
therefore, when the earth's distance, expressed in
miles, is obtained, we have, as it were, a yard-stick
by which the distances of the other planets can be
measured. To find the exact length of this yard-
stick has long been considered the astronomer's
grandest problem, and a transit of Venus gives
the most accurate means of doing this.
The last two transits were in 1761 and 1769.
Previous to these the estimates which had been
made of the sun's distance from the earth were very
incorrect. The earliest estimate on record made it
about one-twentieth of its true distance; and even
at the time of these transits it was too small by sev-
eral million miles. 'These transits were, however,
watched with great interest, the observations made
of them carefully compared, and the distance com-
puted to be about ninety-five million miles. Since
then astronomers have calculated the sun's distance
by several other methods, applying principles which
were not then known, and, although these methods
are inferior to that furnished by a transit, yet, as
the different calculations very nearly agree, it is
supposed they are not far from correct. They show
the sun's distance to be a little over ninety-one
million miles.
The instruments which we now have for measur-
ing small angles, and the means for determining
the latitude and longitude of places are much supe-
rior to those used a hundred years ago, hence the
observations of the coming transit will be much
more exact, and will furnish a means of testing the
accuracy of previous calculations.



I will now tell you something of how the observa-
tions are taken, and of the preparations which
have been made for this purpose.
The direct object is to obtain what is called the
sun's parallax. The parallax of an object is its ap-
parent displacement as seen from two different
stations. In fig. 2, let the circle A B E represent
a section of the earth. Two persons, one stationed


at A, and another at B, are looking at the sun, s.
The heavenly bodies, though at different distances
from the earth, appear to us as if they were all situ-
ated in the same vaulted surface, represented by
the curved line M G o. The person at A sees the
sun as if it were at G, while the person at B sees it
at D. Now, in making tables which shall give the
position of the heavenly bodies, it is obvious that
their places, as seen from any one station upon the
earth, cannot be taken, for this would not be correct
for any other station. The place given them,
therefore, is that which they would appear to oc-
cupy if seen from the center of the earth, for this
always remains the same. The true place of the
sun, s, then, is at F, and its angular displacement,
measured by the angle, B S C, or the arc, F D, is
its parallax at the station B; the angle, A S C, or
F G, its parallax at the station A.
The distance of a body affects its parallax; for
it is plain that if the sun were at the more distant
. point H, its parallax, F N, as seen from A, is much
less than if the sun is at the point s. Hence, when

the sun's true parallax is obtained, it gives an accu-
rate means of calculating the sun's distance.
Now Venus is the planet nearest the earth, hence
its parallax is larger than any other, and can be
more easily measured. Moreover, Venus is much
nearer the earth than the sun, and its parallax, of
course, much greater. Because of this difference
between the displacement of the two bodies, ob-
servers at different stations upon the earth will
refer the planet to different points upon the
sun's disc. Thus, in fig. 3 (on next page),
let E, v and s represent the earth, Venus
and the sun at the time of a transit. An ob-
server at A would see the planet cross the sun
in the line D C, while an observer on the other
side of the earth, at B, would see it cross the
sun in the line F G. These two lines are of
unequal length, and the transit, to the ob-
servers, would be accomplished in unequal
periods of time. By noting the exact time and
/ duration of the transit at these two stations
and afterward comparing them, the difference
between the parallax of the sun and that of
a Venus can be obtained, and from this the
parallax of the sun, and then the sun's distance
from the earth. It is, of course, impossible to
obtain stations on directly opposite sides of the
earth, to watch the transit, yet places are
selected as far apart as possible, and the neces-
sary allowance made in the calculations.
It may at first seem a very easy thing to take
these observations; but in reality it is very diffi-
cult to make them accurate. The instruments
may not be exact in every particular, and a
small error in measuring an angle at so great
a distance as the sun, will make a great difference
in the result. Clocks may differ by one or two
seconds, and the state of our atmosphere will affect
the distinctness with which the planet is seen.
Then it is extremely difficult to tell the second when
the edges of Venus and the sun meet, for, as they
approach, the dark edge of the planet appears
drawn out toward the sun before it really touches
it; and the difference between the real and ap-
parent contact may occasion a serious error. Hence
the great importance that everything be prepared
with the utmost care, and that so far as possible
there be uniformity in the methods of observing at
the different stations.
Another science aids the astronomer in this work
by giving him a new method of measuring small
angles in the heavens. It is that of photographing
the object, and then making the desired measure-
ment on the plate by an instrument called a micro-
meter. The sun has been photographed for the
purpose of studying the solar spots, for many years,
and the process has been perfected and used with


enough to go out with a nurse and to wear a white
fur coat. The region seemed to be emptied of
little boys. She went back to Cousin Ginevra's,
thinking he must have crossed her and gone
"No," said Cousin Ginevra, carelessly; "but
he'll turn up; boys always do in the city. He
must learn to pick his way like the rest; he '11 turn
up in an hour or so."
But Trotty had not turned up in an hour or
so. It came dinner-time, and he had not turned
up. It was past dinner-time, and he had not
turned up.
"Cousin Ginevra," said Trotty's mother, put-
ting on her bonnet, I can't stand this any longer.
I am going to, the police-station to get something
done about Trotty. Something must have hap-
pened, or he would have been home to dinner. I
can't wait another minute !"
Well," said Cousin Ginevra, trying not to look
anxious, perhaps you 'd better. I think I will go
out to Jamaica Plains myself, and inquire at Uncle
Burden's. The child may have gone out there, for
aught you know; he has been often enough to
know the way. One or the other of us will have
got him safe before long, never fear !"
But Trotty's mother could no more help fearing
than she could help hunting for Trotty. Such a
little fellow Such a little, helpless, foolish fellow,
to be wandering about that great city-the terrible
city that he knew no more about than most little
country boys who come in on visits once in awhile !
Oh what would become of him ? Where could
he be ?
About so high ?" said the policeman. I wish
he 'd been a little higher or a little lower. There 's
so many of 'em about so high! Red hair, did you
say, ma'am ?"
Chestnut hair Beautiful, bright-- "
"Blue coat?" interrupted the policeman, care-
lessly, evidently not regarding the superfluous
adjectives of fond mammas as at all to the point
in the official processes of identification.
Yes, a little navy-blue coat, with brass buttons
and a velvet collar."
I'd have preferred some other color," said the
policeman, discontentedly; "bottle-green, for in-
stance, ma'am, would be a beautiful color for little
boys. It's a grave matter, if parents was only
aware of it, this dressing young uns all alike, and
turning 'em adrift on a officer's penetration.
Now, I had six navy-blue coats lost on my beat
this last fortnight."
And blue eyes," said Trotty's mother; great
blue eyes, like--"
"Yes, yes," said the policeman, "I know, I
know. Blue eyes. One pair's like another pair.

Blue eyes. Very well. We 'll do our best, ma'am ;
but you need n't be surprised if it's a matter of
two or three days. We have so many blue eyes
and blue coats and reddish hair, about so high !"
Two or three days A matter of two or three
days What a dreadful matter!
Trotty's mother went home again; went out
again; went home again; was in and out-could
not rest.
It grew dark; no Trotty. Cousin Ginevra came
home; no Trotty. He had never been at Jamaica
Plains. Uncle Burden had not seen him. Uncle
Burden came, too. He, too, went in and out-to
the station and back again, up the square, down
the square, into the park, over to the hospital,
*down to the wharves, over to the Small-pox Hos-
pital. Perhaps Trotty had gone'over to Pine Island
to the Small-pox Hospital!
It grew darker.
Into Springfield street, into Brookline street,
down into Union-park street, back to the City Hos-
pital, over by the great Jesuit Orphan Asylum,
where all sorts of little boys peeped through the
windows and shook their heads, for they had n't
seen him; over to the Medical School on the great
empty lands, where there was such a chance to
play if you felt like it, and where a gentleman stu-
dent said he had n't seen such a boy, and a lady
student said she thought she had, and then said
No, she guessed it was an Irish boy, on the whole;
back again to the orphan asylum, and this time,
as they were going by, a little orphan with a
great many freckles hammered on the window at
A sister in a white cap came to the window, too,
and beckoned. Uncle Burden said they would
stop, and they stopped. The sister threw up the
It is possible," she said, in rather a sweet voice,
"that we have news of your child. Patrick, tell
the gentlemen what you just told me."
I seen a chap with a blue coat and brass but-
tings," said Patrick, hopefully. I seen him go
by with some other chaps. He had a cane."
That sounds like it," said Uncle Burden.
How big was he ?"
That's well enough," said the policeman, but
when did you see him ? "
"I seen him," said Patrick, thoughtfully, about
-- He paused-reflected-seemed to be anx-
iously trying to bring his important testimony
down close to a matter of minutes or hours, at
least. "I seen him-about-t'ree days and a-half
ago !"
Down went the window. Away went the vision
of the sweet-voiced sister and the freckled boy.
On went Uncle Burden and the policeman, mu-



(A True Story.)


NOT a very great while ago, Trotty was staying
in Worcester square.
Everybody may not know that Worcester square
is in Boston ; but Trotty knew it. One reason was
that he had been there before.
Worcester square is at the south end of Boston;
and Trotty knew that, too. Trotty knew a great
deal. He knew that he had a very nice time when
he went with his mother to visit at Cousin Ginevra's
in Worcester square. Besides that, he knew that
somebody was going to be buried to-day in Boston.
He had heard them talking about it at the table.
He did n't believe there were a great many boys of
his size who knew that. He meant to ask those
chaps who played out in the square with watch-
man's rattles. He did n't exactly know who it
was; but that was a minor point, and did n't mat-
ter. He might have consulted his mother on it,
however; but they had maple syrup on their buck-
wheats, and omelette with their muffins, for break-
fast, and he forgot it.
He put on his cap and navy-blue coat after
breakfast, and told his mother he was going out to
play in the square. His mother said, Very well,"
and buttoned his coat up in the throat, for it was a
little chilly, and he had a slight cold; and she kissed
him good-by, and told him to be in in good season
to get washed and brushed before lunch. Trotty
said, "Yes, um," and hopped along, down the
steps on one foot, into the square.
There were n't any boys in the square just then,
and Trotty played "menagerie" by himself for
awhile, with the stone lions on the steps. He
played hand-organ," too, with a little cane he had
for a birthday present. He beat time on the iron
fence, and Cousin Ginevra threw him five cents
and hired him-like many another organ-man-to
go away.
Pretty soon the boys began to come into the
square; all sorts of boys-pretty little boys from
the neighboring houses, in seal-skin caps and nice
boots ; queer little boys from over by the hospital,
with ragged jackets and no coats; pleasant little
boys, quarrelsome little boys ; clean bovs, dirty
boys. Trotty had seldom seen so many kinds of
boys together. They ran and whooped up and
down the square. The boys in the seal-skin caps
did n't run much with the other boys. Trotty
was n't particular; he liked them all: he wished

they had such funny boys at. home. There was
one little boy with red hair there, who was very
friendly with Trotty. He showed him his jack-
knife, and the boy said he wished he had one like
it. He showed him his cane, too; the boy with
red hair said it was a whacker.
Oh," said a seal-skin boy, "that's nothing!
I 've got a cane twice as good "
Trotty did n't like the seal-skin boy.
Say," said he, did you know there was a big
funeral down-town to-day ? For he thought he
would show the seal-skin boy how much he knew.
Pooh said the seal-skin boy. That 's
nothing either. I knew that a week ago. My
father 's gone to see it. It's an awful big funeral.
All the women at our house are crying round."
I don't know but I shall go down myself," said
the boy with red hair.
I don't care much about it," said the seal-skin
boy, carelessly. You get so used to processions
and music in Boston."
Procession Music Trotty's eyes grew very
big. How grand it seemed to be a Boston boy in
a seal-skin cap and not care about processions and
music !
The boys had all begun to cluster around the
seal-skin boy and the boy with red hair. Trotty
pressed into the middle of the group. Cousin
Ginevra, glancing out of the window, saw them all
standing in a heap, talking earnestly. Trotty had
his cap pushed back, and his cheeks were red; he
was talking too, very fast. Somebody called
Cousin Ginevra away then, and she saw no more.
It came a little before lunch-time; but no Trotty.
It came lunch-time itself; but no Trotty. Lunch
was eaten and over, but Trotty had not come. His
mother said she would go out and hunt him up;
he was probably in the square, or in Chester park,
having a good time somewhere. But he must
learn to be punctual; she would bring him back,
and he might go without his orange, for a punish-
But she did not bring him back. He was not in
the square. He was not in Chester park. All
over Chester park, all over Chester square, through
Worcester street, over on Harrison avenue, a little
way down Washington street, a little way up
Washington street, went Trotty's mother. But
the only little boy she met was a little boy small


enough to go out with a nurse and to wear a white
fur coat. The region seemed to be emptied of
little boys. She went back to Cousin Ginevra's,
thinking he must have crossed her and gone
"No," said Cousin Ginevra, carelessly; "but
he'll turn up; boys always do in the city. He
must learn to pick his way like the rest; he '11 turn
up in an hour or so."
But Trotty had not turned up in an hour or
so. It came dinner-time, and he had not turned
up. It was past dinner-time, and he had not
turned up.
"Cousin Ginevra," said Trotty's mother, put-
ting on her bonnet, I can't stand this any longer.
I am going to, the police-station to get something
done about Trotty. Something must have hap-
pened, or he would have been home to dinner. I
can't wait another minute !"
Well," said Cousin Ginevra, trying not to look
anxious, perhaps you 'd better. I think I will go
out to Jamaica Plains myself, and inquire at Uncle
Burden's. The child may have gone out there, for
aught you know; he has been often enough to
know the way. One or the other of us will have
got him safe before long, never fear !"
But Trotty's mother could no more help fearing
than she could help hunting for Trotty. Such a
little fellow Such a little, helpless, foolish fellow,
to be wandering about that great city-the terrible
city that he knew no more about than most little
country boys who come in on visits once in awhile !
Oh! what would become of him ? ,Where could
he be ?
"About so high ?" said the policeman. "I wish
he 'd been a little higher or a little lower. There 's
so many of 'em about so high! Red hair, did you
say, ma'am ?"
Chestnut hair Beautiful, bright -- "
Blue coat?" interrupted the policeman, care-
lessly, evidently not regarding the superfluous
adjectives of fond mammas as at all to the point
in the official processes of identification.
Yes, a little navy-blue coat, with brass buttons
and a velvet collar."
I'd have preferred some other color," said the
policeman, discontentedly; "bottle-green, for in-
stance, ma'am, would be a beautiful color for little
boys. It's a grave matter, if parents was only
aware of it, this dressing young uns all alike, and
turning 'em adrift on a officer's penetration.
Now, I had six navy-blue coats lost on my beat
this last fortnight."
"And blue eyes," said Trotty's mother; great
blue eyes, like-"
"Yes, yes," said the policeman, "I know, I
know. Blue eyes. One pair's like another pair.

Blue eyes. Very well. We '11 do our best, ma'am;
but you need n't be surprised if it's a matter of
two or three days. We have so many blue eyes
and blue coats and reddish hair, about so high !"
Two or three days A matter of two or three
days! What a dreadful matter!
Trotty's mother went home again; went out
again; went home again; was in and out-could
not rest.
It grew dark; no Trotty. Cousin Ginevra came
home; no Trotty. He had never been at Jamaica
Plains. Uncle Burden had not seen him. Uncle
Burden came, too. He, too, went in and out-to
the station and back again, up the square, down
the square, into the park, over to the hospital,
'down to the wharves, over to the Small-pox Hos-
pital. Perhaps Trotty had gone over to Pine Island
to the Small-pox Hospital!
It grew darker.
Into Springfield street, into Brookline street,
down into Union-park street, back to the City Hos-
pital, over by the great Jesuit Orphan Asylum,
where all sorts of little boys peeped through the
windows and shook their heads, for they had n't
seen him; over to the Medical School on the great
empty lands, where there was such a chance to
play if you felt like it, and where a gentleman stu-
dent said he had n't seen such a boy, and a lady
student said she thought she had, and then said
No, she guessed it was an Irish boy, on the whole;
back again to the orphan asylum, and this time,
as they were going by, a little orphan with a
great many freckles hammered on the window at
A sister in a white cap came to the window, too,
and beckoned. Uncle Burden said they would
stop, and they stopped. The sister threw up the
It is possible," she said, in rather a sweet voice,
" that we have news of your child. Patrick, tell
the gentlemen what you just told me."
I seen a chap with a blue coat and brass but-
tings," said Patrick, hopefully. "I seen him go
by with some other chaps. He had a cane."
"That sounds like it," said Uncle Burden.
" How big was he ?"
That's well enough," said the policeman, "but
when did you see him ? "
I seen him," said Patrick, thoughtfully, about
-- He paused-reflected-seemed to be anx-
iously trying to bring his important testimony
down close to a matter of minutes or hours, at
least. "I seen him-about-t'ree days and a-half
ago !"
Down went the window. Away went the vision
of the sweet-..-.i.:1 .:_ .itr and the freckled boy.
On went Un.:!. yTr..rn And the policeman, mu-



singly; and down sank the heart of Trotty's mother in a very muddy navy-blue coat; with chestnut
deeper than ever yet. hair-matted, heated, splashed; with blue eyes,
Supper-time ; no Trotty. After supper; but no heavy and sodden; without a cap, without a cane;
Trotty. Evening. Night. The dreadful night had and with a little face as white as death. He held
come-the dreadful day was gone-but still no a bunch of white flowers close to his side.
Trotty "0 Trot-ty "
It was nine o'clock. Bed-time an hour and a- There was a cry and a rush. Trotty stood it
half ago What would Trotty do, with no bed- pretty well. He trembled, however, for he was

time," no bed to have a "time" about? Where very weak; they almost knocked him over with
would he lay the little, naughty, foolish, chestnut the rush and cry.
head to-night ? I have n't had any lunch," said the little figure,
It was five minutes past nine. The door-bell faintly. "Nor any dinner, either," after a pause.
rung. Nor any supper, too !" gasped Trotty. I
It is the policeman," said Trotty's mother, have n't eatened a fing since my buckwheat break-
And she ran to the door herself. fast! "
It was not the policeman. It was a little figure He thought he should cry; but he did n't.

I l I
.A: nfl~l11


Now, his mother thought: Trotty has done
very wrong, but he shall not be questioned or
punished till he has had food."
So they took him down to supper, and nobody
said anything. He ate and ate. They gave him
milk, bread, crackers, cold turkey, figs, cookeys, a
banana, and what was left of the squash pie. He
ate them all. It seemed as if he would eat till
to-morrow morning. He trembled while he ate,
but he did not cry.
By and by, his lips began to quiver. They asked
him what was the matter.
I can't get down vat piece of sponge-cake,"
moaned Trotty, and I've got to leave half my
Albert biscuit! "
So they concluded that he had eaten enough to
preserve life, and took him away upstairs and set
him down in their midst, very silently-for because
they were glad to see him, they could n't forget
that he must have been naughty to run away-and
the following dialogue took place :
"Now, Trotty, tell us where you've been."
I've been to see the man laid down."
The man?"
Yes; the man folks are all crying about. The
boys asked me to go and see him laid down."
"Laid down? "
Yes; I went to see the man laid down. I
heard his name, but I forget."
Oh, the child has been to the funeral! Where
did you get those flowers,. Trotty ? "
Trotty held up the flowers-a bouquet of rose-
buds, camelias and violets, very large, very rich,
sorely faded.
Aint they pretty? I got 'em in the big build-
"What big building ?"
The big building opposite the commonn"
The State-House Have you been 'way down
to the State-House ? "
I went to the big building' opposite the common
to see the man laid down. I've got a sore froat,
Who went with you ?"
"The boys."
"What boys?"
"The boy with red hair, and some other boys.
There was a boy with a fur cap, but he did n't go
far. He turned back. Me and the other boy, and
the other boys, went alone."
Was there no big boy or grown person with
you ?"
No, only me and the boys, and the boy with
red hair."
Did you ride ?"
No, we walked. We walked to the building'
and went in. They had music and a procession.

It was bully. We all went in. Me and the red
boy went in. I don't know 'bout the rest,"
But that is impossible You could not have
got into the State-House. They would not allow
Yes, I did. I went in. I tagged a p'liceman's
coat-tails. I went right in afterward with his coat-
tails. I saw the inside. There was flowers all
over it. I never saw so many flowers at home. It
was bully They played Yankee Doodle,' too."
"' Yankee Doodle?'"
"Yes, they did; I know 'Yankee Doodle.'"
"Where did you get your flowers ? "
I got 'em in the big building I picked 'em up.
I'm going to dry 'em to keep; the other boys said
they would. Then we came out."
What did you do next ? "
I went to see him laid down. Everybody did.
I went with the procession. I tried to cry ; but I
did n't very much."
"But the procession went to Mt. Auburn Ceme-
tery! You 've got it wrong, somehow, Trotty.
Mt. Auburn is five miles from here. You could
not have gone very far."
Yes, I did. I went as far's anybody did. Me
and the other boys went on ahead of the procession.
The red boy said he guessed we 'd see it out. We
went over a bridge. There was a grave-yard, too.
They laid the man down in the grave-yard; I mean
the great man-him that they cried about."
"Walked to Mt. Auburn It cannot be, Trotty !
And you could n't have got in when you got there.
You could n't have seen the great man' buried "
Yes, I did. I went over the bridge, and in at
a gate. There was p'licemen there. 'I scud in
under their arms. I don't think the other boys
did. I thought I 'd like to see what they did with
him. Then I came back. We all came back."
Walked !"
"Oh, yes; I walked! I got awful tired. I
walked to Boudoin square. Then I took a horse-
How did you pay for your ticket ?"
I had five cents from Cousin Ginevra for play-
ing the hand-organ to her with my cane. I lost
my cane. I lost my knife, too. But I don't want,
to tell who took 'em. I should n't wonder if it was
vat red boy. I'd have been home before," con-
cluded My Lord Trotty, carelessly, "but we made
a mistake once. The procession went another
way, and we went another way, and we had to turn
But, Trotty, do you know that you have done
a very dangerous thing ? "
"Why, no said Trotty.
"And a very cruel thing ?"
A cruel fing said Trotty.



And a very, very naughty thing-so naughty
that mamma must punish you harder than you 've
been punished for a long time ?"
No," said Trotty, shaking his head stoutly,
though the color came and went fast on his dirty
little face. "I did n't know I was naughty, only
once. I did n't fink. When vey played Yankee
Doodle,' I thought I'was a little naughty."
"When they played 'Yankee Doodle !' "
"Yes. It made me have a homesick feel-
ing in the back of my neck. I did n't know, but
I'd ought to have stayed at home. Then I for-
But, Trotty, we have looked everywhere, and
everywhere, and had the police out looking "
The police said Trotty. He looked quite
pleased; he thought the seal-skin boys would think
more of him, if the police had been called out on
his account.
"And there is one of them now "
True enough, there was one ringing the door-
bell at that moment, and Trotty heard him telling
them in the entry that he 'd got a boy; he did n't
know if it would answer-boys were a good deal
alike, and this one 'd lost his coat, and vowed he
lived up to Hunneman street; it was n't the one,
was it ? He thought likely. He 'd take him 'long
to Hunneman, and see if he told a straight story;
boys did n't generally.
No," said Trotty, marching out into the hall,
to look at the boy from Hunneman street; that
is n't me I got home of my own account! "

I 'd rather not see any more Boston boys to-
night," said Trotty, feebly, as the door closed on
the policeman and the poor little supposed-to-be
Trotty. I 'm tired of Boston boys. I 'd rather
go to sleep."
But, Trotty," urged his mother, solemnly, I
want you to see what a cruel, naughty boy you 've
been "
Cruel! Naughty! These were ugly words.
Trotty hung his head.
"I thought you were lost," went on mamma.
"I mourned, and hunted, and was frightened for
my little boy. Why, Trotty, in all this great city,
I did n't know where you were "
But I knew where I was said Trotty, half-
perplexed. Still, his head dropped lower and
lower. He began to feel very badly. In all that
great city, mourning for the loss of the great
man" that sad night, I hofe nobody felt more
sorrow than Trotty felt for a few minutes, while his
head hung down. He ought to have felt about as
unhappy as anybody could feel. Don't you think
so, too ?
Mamma," said Trotty, after he had gone to
bed (his mother had said she should not punish
him at that time; she would not strike a child
worn by great physiEal exertion and loss of food),
"mamma, who was his name? and I'd like to
know how he came to have so much bigger funeral
than anybody else ?"
But before she had half begun to tell him, he
was asleep.

nit p

'-' -r--2_




JUST where the children troop along
e AAt morn and noon together,
The maple-tree grew green and strong
Through all the summer weather.

The little tree, so slim, so green
Among the birches round it;
It only helped to make a screen,
i And no one e'er had found it.

Now summer days begin to fade,"
Then said the maple, sighing;
And no one sees me in this shade !
What is the use of trying?"

And while one night she fretted thus,
The air grew cold and colder,
And there came a painter down the road,
His colors on his shoulder.

Jack Frost down the winding way
Came whistling, leaping, singing;
And as he ran about in play,
His paints behind went swinging.

Then how the spatters flew about,
And streaks both red and yellow,
Till all the leaves that leaned far out
Glowed like the apples mellow.

The maple watched the colors grow,
Then cried, Oh, stop oh, listen !
Before my leaves fall, paint me now
Until in red I glisten."

Jack Frost stands still. So small the tree,
S-. Hid safe among the birches,
H. e stops uncertain; then he climbs,
- And rock and bank he searches.

Oh, paint me, please !" the maple cried,
S Bright red and red all over,
Till each one that may walk or ride
My beauty shall discover."

^It N_1



No sooner said than done it is; // /
The swift brush plies he singing,
Then swings away, upon his back A
His brushes lightly slinging. \ r

Adown the road the painter goes;
In silent joy she watches,
Till the far-off hills betray his path
In red and purple blotches.

How splendid shines the maple-tree,
With green around and under; i ,.
The golden rods in all the place
Bow down in reverent wonder.

And how she scorns the lady birch
That stands so close beside her;
Her head she tosses, waves her arms,
And shakes her leaves out wider.

0, silly little maple-tree !
Have done with all your prinking;
Along the road the children see,
Of fun and pleasure thinking.

Oh, look halloa come see the show !
A tree just like a feather !
Let's stick it in. our hats, you know,
And march down all together!"

They swarm the raspberry bushes through;
They tread the thistles under;
They gather round the trembling tree,
Intent on scarlet plunder.

0, dainty little tree She stands
Like a beleaguered city;
They bend and break with feet and hands,--
The jubilant banditti!

Then off they march in scarlet line,
And blaze through all the meadow;
But the birches droop their glistening leaves,
And screen her with their shadow. -\

VOL. II.- 2.






ONCE upon a time, and the time dates back
many hundreds of years, when mankind had
nothing to eat save a few small vegetables, and
when earth rejoiced in no wide fields of golden
grain, a small party of Dyaks, who were then
dwelling in the tangled forests of the island of
Borneo, having grown discontented with their sor-
rowful lot, united their wits, built boats of ample
size, and put off to sea.
The cause of so sudden a departure was certainly
a reasonable one. Food, hitherto scarce and un-
relishable, had become still more so; and the
waters which ran in the narrow channels had be-
come stagnant. Sickness had sprung up among
the people, and the women and children were
perishing by hundreds.
On a certain night, one of these Dyaks had seen
a vision. Some strange visitor from an unknown
land came to him in sleep, and whispered in his
ear the following message :
Arise sad son of Bruni, and girt thyself with
armor, for the day cometh when thou shouldst assert
thy manhood. Arise and, with no delay, sum-
mon thy brothers to thy side. Say to them that I,
a messenger from the realms of Blessedness, have
come to thee. Get yourselves ready; build boats
large enough to transport the warriors; go, and
tempt fortune on the fair bosom of the sea."
The man to whom the messenger had appeared
arose from his bed in the early morning, and did
as he was bidden. He assembled his brothers,
his kinsmen and his people; told to them what
had happened, and bade them be industrious and
The next day, the warriors, regardless of their
wives and children, whom they were forced to leave
behind, sailed away from the shore. Strange
thoughts filled their minds as they embarked; but

not one of them dared to pause and question the
purpose of so wondrous a venture.
Onward they sailed, and onward. Land faded
from sight behind them, and a wide expanse of
ocean lay around them. One day, when the water
was calm and as clear as crystal, and there was
scarcely a flutter of breezes in the air, these valiant
warriors were startled by hearing a loud roar in the
They were unable to discern the slightest object,
either far or near. Whence, then, the awful noise
which had so suddenly fallen upon the stillness ?
Was it some roaring tornado, a peal of thunder,
or the rapid rush of some hostile power descending
from the high heavens?
Though greatly amazed by this unexpected ter-
ror, the courage of the warriors did not fail them,
nor allow them to turn back. They pursued their
course ; and, after sailing many leagues further,
caught sight of a whirlpool of vast size, the roaring
of which had caused them so much affright.
But this was not the only wonder which their
eyes beheld. Just beyond the whirlpool, they dis-
cerned a large fruit-tree, the like of which was un-
known. The tree itself was firmly rooted in the
sky, its branches hung downward, and its lowest
leaves were bathed in the flashing ripples of the
Now, the leader of this small and brave band of
men was named Si Jura. He was a man of most
exemplary conduct, of few words, and gifted with
great wisdom and prudence. Hence he was always
chosen to represent his people at every large con-
ference of the nation.
Many fruits were growing on this wonderful tree;
and they were so beautiful in appearance, and so.
delightful in fragrance, that the Dyaks longed to
possess them. They entreated Si Jura to climb



up into the tree, in order to secure some of the
fruit. He yielded to this request, and straight-
way began the ascent.
But Si Jura, being of a very inquisitive mind,
was not satisfied to merely possess some of the
fruit. He wished to explore still farther, and to
learn for himself why and how the tree had grown
in so singular a manner. Indeed, he climbed so
very high that his companions soon lost sight of
him; and they, thinking that, perhaps, he had

Whilst he thus stood in silent admiration of the
beautiful scenery which lay around him, and was
contrasting it, in his own mind, with that of his
own far-off land, he was suddenly accosted by a
man of great and godlike stature. The name of
this personage was Si Kira; and in the most
friendly way he addressed Si Jura, and invited him
to his house.
When the hour for dinner had come, both host'
and guest sat down to eat. The food chiefly con-



been ushered into another world, and not caring to
await the issue, turned their boats about, laden
with fruit, and sailed rapidly away.
Si Jura gazed down upon them from his lofty
position, and sadly lamented his imprudent act.
But, at last, he fell asleep from exhaustion.
When he awoke, he again looked round about
"him. He expected never to return home, and,
wise man that he was, he believed that the best
thing for him to do, under the circumstances, would
be to keep on climbing !
Higher and higher he ascended; the sea van-
ished from his sight, and the roots of the tree were
soon reached. Wondrous to relate, these roots
were imbedded- in a new soil, and Si Jura had come
to a new country,-that of the Pleiades !

sisted of a mess of white grains boiled soft, the
savor of which was tempting.
You are my guest, friend," said Si Kira to Si
Jura, "and it behooves me to offer t6 you my
choicest food. Eat of this mess, I pray you."
"Horrors replied Si Jura. "Not all the
powers in this new and strange land could urge
me to eat that mess of boiled maggots "
"They are not maggots," said Si Kira, with
much surprise, "but the choicest of boiled rice."
The host then went on to explain the several
processes of planting, weeding, reaping, pounding
and boiling, which the grain must undergo before
being ready to be eaten.
In the middle of the narrative, the wife of Si Kira
left the room in order to procure some water.


During her absence, Si Jura leaned over from the
table and peeped into a large jar which was stand-
ing close by. Lo to his astonishment, he saw the
house in which he used to live, and his aged
parents, his wife and his children !
He saw all this, as if it were through a telescope ;
and the sight brought intense sadness into his heart,
for he very much feared that he should never again
assemble with them. Si Jura was sorrowful indeed;
but he was speedily made glad by the promise of
Si Kira to return him once more to earth.

After the dinner was over, Si Kira gave his guest
seed of three different kinds; and, having repeated
his former instructions, he conducted him quite a
long distance from the house.
And then, by means of a long rope, Si Jura was
again let down to earth, and very near to his own
house. He lost no time before relating his wonder-
ful adventure ; taught his countrymen how to raise
and gather in the rice ; and therefore, to this very
day, is Si Jura regarded in the East as the patron
of Dyak husbandry.



TATE BEDELL was going to have a birthday the
next day. That, in itself, was something for a little
girl to be proud of, who only had had eight birth-
days in her life, and could n't 'remember half of
those. But more than that, she was to give a party
in honor of the occasion,-her mother had said she
might,-and besides, and beyond, and above all,
it was to be a wedding party, and Tate's doll-the
open-and-shut-eyed" Luella Viola-was to be the
bride And though that small lady could n't, by
any manner of means, be married before to-morrow,
because her bridegroom was n't expected till the
morning train, she was already dressed for the
ceremony in white muslin,-with such a trail!-
and lay on the spare chamber bed, under a pillow-
sham, face down, for fear of crushing her long veil
and wreath of orange blossoms.
Tate herself was on her knees by the bureau,
packing the bridal wardrobe into the japanned
cake-box, leaving out the traveling-dress, of course,
for Luella Viola to wear on her wedding journey.
Was there ever an outfit like it? Six complete
suits; and by changing them about a little-put-
ting the polonaise of one over the under-skirt of
another, you know-you could make as many more;
six hats, all of the latest styles; a handkerchief,
bordered with real lace; besides two entire sets of
underclothing that had been sewed by Tate, every
stitch of them, without a thimble.
Got the notes ready, Tate ?"
That was Minty Mozier's voice in the hall, and
that was Minty's happy little self clumping upstairs
after the wedding invitations. She was to carry
them around. Tate could n't, of course; for I for-
got to say dear little Tate was lame, and not able
to walk beyond the garden, even with her pretty

rose-wood crutch. And it was very stupid of me
not to mention this before, since but for her lame-
ness, and her sweet, patient way of bearing it, I
suppose her mamma would never have taken the
pains to plan the doll's wedding of which I 'm tell-
ing you.
"Dear me! No, Minty!" said Tate, moving
along to give Minty kneeling-room by the trunk.
" Toney has n't printed 'em yet "
I say he's poison slow!" grumbled Minty,
folding Luella Viola's balmoral into a neat bundle.
And he 's been teasing to take the invitations
round himself. Do you care if I let him ? "
Pooh not the least bit," said Minty.
." 'Cause, you see, he thinks I 'm real mean not
to have boys at my party," said Tate, looking re-
lieved; "and I ought to make it up to him some-
"As if you wanted to play with boys said
Minty, indignantly.
Oh, of course I don't want 'em said Tate,
decidedly; "but Toney says 'twont be any kind
of a wedding 'thout I have 'em, 'cause at grown-up
weddings they always invite men."
But then, men behave !" put in Minty. Boys
are horrid,-all but five or six, you know !"
Well, I can't have 'em, anyway," said Tate,.
cheerfully. Mamma says I 'm not strong enough.
But I can ask nine girls to my birthday, 'cause I
shall be nine years old-and going on ten, just
think !"
Yes," said Minty, very meekly.
She was only seven and a-half, and it mortified
her dreadfully. But she forgot this affliction before
long, in helping Tate pack the trunk and buckle
her mamma's shawl-strap about it; and when she



trudged home at noon, she was just as happy as a
girl only seven and a-half years old could possibly
be; for was n't she going to a wedding-party in her
new pink sash and bronze boots ? And was n't
Toney coming that very afternoon to leave her a
printed invitation ? To be sure he was She knew
that as well as if Tate had said it !
Indeed, as it happened, Toney was rushing into
Tate's house at precisely this minute with the notes
he had just struck off on his little printing-press.
They were the daintiest affairs in the world, printed
on pink satin paper, and reading this way :
Requests the pleasure of your presence at the Marriage of her Doll,
On Thursday, September 4th, 1873, at Three o'Clock.
P. S.-Please bring all your dolls.

Toney had slightly objected to the postscript, but
he finally added it to satisfy Tate. She had now
only to double these sheets across the centre, and
they filled their envelopes exactly: such pretty en-
velopes, with the monogram B. 0." embossed on
them. That stood for Bedell and Osborne, of
Toney walked up and down the gravel-path,
whistling, while Tate directed the envelopes to her
nine little friends; and just before he lost his
patience, she brought them out to him, in a neat
willow basket, with a white satin bow perched on
the top, to give it a bridal air. And then he car-
ried round the notes, delivering a funny speech
with each one.
But, alas! for poor Minty There was none for
her From the back-door step, where she was
amusing the bald-headed baby with tin muffin-
rings, she saw Toney call at the door opposite and
hand Jenny Gilson a note, and then walk straight
on-never so much as looking at her house No
wonder Minty nearly cried her eyes out, and went
to bed that night thinking this was a dreadful
world for a little girl only seven and a-half years old
to live in !
Papa Bedell came next day in the early train,
right from New York, and brought with him
Clarence Osborne, Luella Viola's bridegroom, a
handsome young gentleman in a black broadcloth
suit, with white gloves and waistcoat, and a watch
no bigger than a buttercup. Tate took him up to
the front chamber, to wait till it was time to hand
Luella Viola down to the parlor; and there he had
been standing in a corner, handkerchief in hand,
fully five hours, for now it was quarter of three,
and, as Tate said, "almost late enough for the
wedding to begin."
She had got together all the old dolls she could

find about the house, and had just ranged them on
the sofa, to represent Luella Viola's poor relatives
come to see her .married, when Jenny Gilson rushed
in quite out of breath.
"0, Tate!" cried she; "didn't you mean to
ask little Minty Mozier ? She feels awfully, because
you have n't sent her an invitation !"
"Why, Jenny Gilson I did send her one-I
certain did!" cried Tate, hopping about on her
crutch in great excitement. Toney must have
lost it. 0 dear what shall I do?"
"I 'll carry her one, and tell her about it, sha' n't
I ?" said Jenny, eagerly. I 'most knew it was a
But they're all gone. Toney only printed
nine said Tate, fairly crying.
I 'd write her one, right off quick, before the
rest come," cried Jenny, who was a born peace-
But folks don't write wedding cards on just
bare paper," sobbed Tate, dragging her writing-
desk from beneath the what-not; "and I 'm afraid
Minty wont like it!"
There's her invitation, this minute, I do be-
lieve !" shouted Jenny, joyfully, as Tate opened
the desk. And there, to be sure, it was, half-
hidden by a package of envelopes; but so plainly
directed to Minty Mozier, that the postmaster him-
self might have read it.
Jenny darted off with it, and at the gate met the
rest of the wedding guests, all dressed in white,
who, of course, must know the whole story.
Let's go with Jenny, and take Tate along !"
they cried. And, in a twinkling, the two largest
girls had joined hands and made a sedan-chair for
Tate, and the entire party was hurrying on after
It was amazing how Minty could have dressed
herself so quickly I think her mother must have
helped her, for when the sedan-chair arrived at Mr.
Mozier's door, she was all ready, even to her coral
beads. Jenny and Lottie Prince would make a
chair for her too; and the little white procession,
on its way back, with Minty and Tate riding at its
head, made such a gay appearance, that Bobby
Wright got out his drum in great haste, and trotted
behind it as fast as his chubby legs would carry
him, having a misty notion that the Fourth of July
had come again.
But this was small excitement beside the wedding
which followed. Jenny Gilson played minister, in a
water-proof cloak and white handkerchief necktie;
and Tate had to make the responses for the bride
and bridegroom, as Luella Viola could only say
papa" and "mamma," which would not have
done at all on this occasion, and Clarence Osborne
was too much stuffed to speak a word.


After the ceremony, Minty led each doll up in
turn to kiss the bride and offer congratulations;
and then Tate passed around a.little waiter heaped
with bride's cake, and slices of wedding-cake folded
in white paper.
And all the while the wedding presents were
lying in state on the chess-table. There were
spoons, and knives and forks, and napkin-rings,
and salvers, and card-receivers, and I can't begin
to tell you how many other things, cut out of silver
paper. The bride herself could n't stay to examine

them. She and her husband were whisked off on
their wedding tour in a baby-carriage. Tate threw
an old slipper after them for good luck, and then
turned to kiss Minty for the sixth time.
Oh, Minty, my wedding would have been spoilt
if you had n't come !"
"I 've had the sflendidest time !" said Minty,
swinging Jenny Gilson's hand; "and you made
me, Jenny !"
And of them all, I think Jenny was the happiest
girl at Tate's doll's wedding.



I WAS waiting for the train to take me to the city.
Very soon the engine appeared, far away up the
line, and looking like a black speck in the distance.
It grew bigger and bigger and came faster and
faster toward us, so that I began to think it was
an express train and did n't mean to stop. Just
then the engineer began to blow off steam, and
with a loud roar the engine swept past and the
train came to a sudden stop.
What lively brakemen they must have on this
road "
Oh, no We don't use brakemen. We have
the vacuum-brake," said the man to whom I spoke.
"There it is under the car."
I looked under one of the cars, and there I saw
a round box, made of iron and rubber, and having
creases on the sides, just like a bellows when it is
shut up. As I looked at it, it seemed to swell
out longer and longer, and the creases flattened
out smooth, just like the leaves of an accordion
when it is stretched out to its full length. There
was an iron rod fastened to the end of the rubber
box, and as the box spread open, the rod moved
backward. This rod, I could see, was fastened to
the chain that moved the brakes on the car wheels.
Just then the conductor cried, All aboard "
and I was obliged to get in and take a seat. I
thought no more of the vacuum-brake till we
came to the next station, when I heard the roar-
ing sound of the steam blowing off on the engine,
and felt the brakes holding the train back. We
slid softly into the station, and the cars came to a
stop without any jar, and with none of that awk-
ward start and jerk that we feel when the brake-
men do not stop all the cars at once. At the next

station the same thing happened again. Certainly,
the vacuum-brake was a very fine thing.
Let us see just how this contrivance works. Un-
der each car is a bellows. These are joined together
by pipes and rubber hose that stretch from car to
car, and, finally, come up through the floor of the
engine-cab. When the air is sucked out of the
bellows, they shut up tight, and so pull the brake-
chains. Most of you boys and girls understand
this. You have heard about .a vacuum in the
philosophy class, and have seen the experiments
with the air-pump in school. A rubber ball cut in
halves is a capital thing to show what a vacuum
is. Press one of the pieces on a board or the table,
so as to squeeze all the air out, and see how it will
stick to the table. All around us is the air in which
we live and move. When it is pushed or sucked
out of any place, it presses on the surface of what-
ever shuts it out, and thus becomes an actual
weight upon it. Under our ball we have a vacuum.
In the vacuum-brake they use this pressure of the
air to pull the brake-chains, and so save the trouble
of having a man on each car to turn the brake-
wheels every time the train is to stop. In the
philosophy class you have seen the teacher use an
air-pump to obtain a vacuum; but I did not see
how they could have an air-pump here to be worked
by the engine. It would take up room and be in
the way. Besides, our engine was coming into the
station and about to stop, and when it stopped the
pump must stop too, and then the brakes would
not work.
Perhaps it would be a good idea to go forward
and stand on the platform of the first car, where
I could look into the engineer's cab. The wind



blew pretty strong, and the cinders flew about in a
shower; but I could look right into the engine,
and, really, I could n't see anything that looked
like an air-pump. Just then a cloud of steam burst
out of a small pipe on the top of the cab, and,
with a deafening roar, the engine rolled into an-
other station and came to a stop. As the cinders
were pretty lively, I went back into the car and
looked out through the glass door to see the train
Just then the train moved on, and the conductor
came round for the tickets. As I gave him mine,
I said :
You use the vacuum-brake ?"
"Yes, sir. It's a fine thing. It stops the cars
quickly and without any bad jerks or strains."
How do you obtain the vacuum ?"
"Oh The engineer does that."
"Well, how?"
Oh it's some kind of exhaust. Don't you
hear the exhaust when she stops ?"
Then, it is not a pump ?"
Oh, no; it's an exhaust,-the exhaust from
the engine."
Not the waste steam from the engine? I
thought that went up the smoke-stack."
Well, no-you see-it's exhaust steam. The
engineer-he-the fact is, I have n't looked into it.
They get a vacuum with the exhaust,-I heard the
engineer say so,-and that's all I know about it."
The next station was the end of the route; so
I went forward and climbed up into the engine,
where the engineer sat on his high seat reading
the morning paper.
Now, railway engineers are generally pleasant
people to meet. A trifle greasy and grimy, per-
haps, but good-natured and sensible. They know
everything about, cars and engines, and are always
ready to talk about their great machines, for they
love their iron horses, and are always glad to show
them off and to tell how they work.
As soon as I entered the cab, the engineer laid
down his paper and very politely asked me what he
could do for me.
Tell me about the vacuum-brake, sir. Do you
use a pump to obtain the vacuum ? "
Oh, no We get it by a blast of steam from

the boiler. Those two brass pipes on each side of
the boiler lead back under the tender and under
the cars'to the rubber boxes you see under each
car. This iron pipe, that is joined to the brass pipe
near the top of the boiler, comes from the boiler.
When I turn this crank, the steam rushes through
it and escapes out of the top of the cab."
Is that the sound I heard when the train
stopped ? "
Yes, sir. It sounds just like an exhaust-pipe,
or the safety-valve. Well, as I was saying, it
rushes out into the open air, and as it goes it sucks
the air out of the brass pipes, and so makes a
vacuum. You see it cannot get down the brass
pipe, because it is full of air and closed up tight.
It can get out through the top, and away it goes,
and the air goes with it, and we get a first-rate
vacuum in a jiffy. I tell you, sir, it's a neat thing,
and works to a charm. I can stop any train they
please to put behind my engine with just a turn of
my finger."
Then, when you have stopped the train, how
do you let the air in again ?"
I shut off the steam and open this valve, and
the air rushes down the pipe where the steam went
out, and the boxes under the cars swell up again,
just like a pair of bellows when the wind comes in
again. Why, sir, it's just like a boy blowing over
a key or a little vial. He blows across the mouth
of the vial, and the water or dust or the air in it
spurts up in his face. His breath rushing past the
mouth, sucks the air out of the vial and makes, a
vacuum in it. If it is full of water, he can see just
how it works, for the water will fly up in his face,
just as the air flies out of these pipes when the
steam blows past the end. Any boy can fill a key
with water and see just how it works."
This was so very simple, that I felt almost
ashamed to think that I had not guessed just how
it was as soon as I heard the roar of the steam
whenever the train stopped.
The engineer then explained that the two brass
pipes were simply to prevent accident. If one
broke down he could use the other. I told the
engineer what the conductor had said.
He laughed and said, Law, sir, some folks
would go round the world and never see a thing."




IT was n't such a long time ago; and none of
the half-dozen young mischief-makers have quite
journeyed into the land of soberness or gained their
title to respect and reverence by grey beards or
bald heads. Every boyor girl who may read this
true story, will know something about the scene of
it. Why, it used to stare at me from my geog-
raphy; used to come up to plague me out of my
history; the teachers used to talk about it almost
every day, and we scholars used to sing about it
from our small green-covered singing-books.
The picture which used to stare at me always
seemed like a mean sort of family portrait; for I
could go to the scene itself, and my young eyes
were practiced enough to see how bad the picture
was. And yet it looked enough like Bunker Hill
Monument to make me feel a little proud when I
thought, I live right side of it; and there are lots
of fellows and girls who 've never seen it at all."
The geography used to read, Charlestown is
situated on a peninsula, immediately north of Bos-
ton, and is the seat of the Navy Yard and the cele-
brated Bunker Hill Monument,"--or something
like that, as well as I can remember it; for I have
not seen that old geography for over ten years.
The history told us about the battle which had
been fought near by, and we boys used to go and
lie down on the grass behind the breast-works and
shoot imaginary red-coats by the million with our
bows and arrows, and then hunt for the lost arrows.
Often we would sit down on the stone which bore
the inscription, "Here fell Warren, &c.," and
complacently eat apples, unmindful of the sacred-
ness of the spot.
My story is about Bunker Hill Monument, and a
half-dozen boys who went to school near by the
tall granite shaft-boys who played ball in the
streets which run alongside the green grounds upon
which the shaft stands, or played "three holes"
with marbles, or trundled hoops about the brown
paths. Somehow, at recess one day, it came out
that one of the boys had a family ticket which al-
lowed him to climb up as often as he wished to the
four windows, which seemed to open a whole world
to our youthful minds, as we gazed out to sea, or
toward hills and over cities. He was easily king
among us then; for all the rest must pay to go up,
and even "half-price for children" was a heavy
draw upon our pocket-money. Could n't we be all
cousins of his and go up on his ticket? He was
good-natured in his kingship, and took three or

four of us up one day, and then increased the num-
ber on succeeding days, until it became a regular
proceeding for some ten of us boys to trot up to the
top of the monument each pleasant recess. Sight-
seeing grew monotonous, and we must do some-
thing to hold our interest in going up. One day I
dropped my hat out, and it sailed away so grace-
fully that other hats, almost of their own accord,
followed mine and found a quiet rest in the grass
below, until we could run down the stone stairs and
regain our head-gear. After hats, in a few days,
went jackets, and to see them spreading out to the
breeze was lovely, we thought. Possibly some
one of us would have jumped out at last, if a sub-
stitute had not suggested itself to our brilliantly-
mischievous minds.
We were one whole week at work, and doubtless
the one-armed custodian (I recollect I used to
wonder if he had lost his arm in the Revolutionary

* *1,I
'I -I


war; he certainly looked old enough to me to have
been a part of those stirring times) missed our reg-
ular tramp through his little office and up the
stairs. Then it was ready. It was a wonderfully-
constructed effigy. Tom had furnished trousers;
Joe had supplied an old coat; Bill had brought a



hat; Jack gave the straw to stuff out the
creature, and I had promised a pair of
square-toed boots and the back-yard in
which the man was to be constructed.
We were pledged by some fearful pledge,
such as boys manufacture on special occa-
sions, not to reveal any of our proceed-
ings, and I was held answerable for two
small sisters who peered wonderingly out
from the kitchen windows as we labored.
The man was made, and oh! he was a
fearful sight to behold. I could n't go to -
sleep from thinking of him down there in -
the yard, and almost believed he would -
come to life and would run and tell the
"monument man" what we were going
to do.
Next day was bright and pleasant. Be- --
fore school we whispered it about that
there would be fun at recess, and few
lessons were well learned that day. Ours
was a boys' and girls' school, and the girls _-
were given the upper hall, which looked
out in the monument grounds, for a play- -
room at recess. When the bell struck
which released us for a half-hour, the girls
all ran to the hall windows, and the boys -
all hurried to the monument grounds.
The chief conspirators were soon dragging -
the effigy up the green slope, and in less
time than it takes to tell it, the body was -
over the wire fence which bounded the -
monument's base. We did not wait to go
through the office this time, but with a
rush, were twenty steps up before the one-
armed mah could halloo to us to come
back. We could n't think of coming back
just then, and, with shouts and laughter,
hastened to carry the effigy to the top of
the monument. Each moment we thought f
we heard the old man calling to us and
panting up behind us. There was no time ,..
to lose, and in a jiffy after we reached the
top, out went a man, as it seemed, from
the little square window. Boys shouted-
and girls shuddered. The boys knew what
was sailing through the air; but the girls really
thought one of us had fallen out. How grandly
our man went down What a magnificent crash he
made as he struck the gravel of a walk below and
spread out his finely-shaped limbs in the most life-
like or lifeless manner. Then we rushed down
again, and gave him a decent burial in a neighbor-
ing field. Recess being over, we went into school
to receive five black marks each for disorderly con-

~- - _-o: _-_,:- .o--. .--


duct, our claim that we were only experimenting
on the law of gravity, though upsetting the mas-
ter's gravity, not doing much toward alleviating
our punishment. One girl had fainted away during
the scene. She thought it was Joe, she said, and
she liked Joe ever so much.
She married Joe a year or two ago, and I hap-
pened to meet him last week, which reminded me
of this freak of a half-dozen young rascals.


(Drawn by Master Frederick W. Chapman.)



TRADITIONS, legends and superstitions, closely
linked as they often are, remain very distinct in
themselves and in their influence. A tradition
may be true; a legend is not only untrue, but im-
probable; and a superstition is a foolish belief in
the supernatural and impossible. The first two are
apt to be full of interest and charm ; the last is
always a blight, wherever it may settle. The world
abounds in wild and marvelous stories that are
believed in by the uneducated. For instance, in
almost every country there are legends about long-
sleepers. According to them, Charlemagne sleeps
in Hess, seated on his throne, with crown on head

and sword in hand, waiting till Antichrist shall
come; the seven youths of Ephesus, who refused to
bow down to the idol of the Emperor Decius, sleep
on, their faces fresh as roses, till the resurrection-
day; Epimenides slept fifty-seven years; a Christian
priest sleeps in St. Sophia till the Turk shall be
cast out; three Bohemian miners sleep in the
heart of the Kuttenburg; and Rip Van Winkle
slept twenty years in Kaatskills. In the great hills
of Thuringia still sleep Frederic Barbarossa and
his six knights. A shepherd once penetrated into
a long winding cave in the heart of the mountain,
and there found the seven all asleep, the emperor's



red beard having grown through the marble table.
The noise of footsteps awakened him, and he
asked :
Do the ravens still fly over the mountains ?"
Yes," replied the shepherd; they do."
"Then we must sleep another hundred years,"
answered the monarch; and turned again to rest.
In Switzerland three William Tells sleep in a,
cave. A brave boy once crept in.
What o'clock is it ?" asked the third Tell.
Noon," replied the lad.
0 dear the time has not yet come," said Tell;
and lay down again.
There are many superstitions about the man in
the moon, and almost every country in the world
has a story about him. In New England the
nurses tell the children that this man was found by
Moses gathering sticks on a Sabbath, and that, for
being so wicked, he was doomed to reside in the
moon till the last day.
If you don't believe it," they say, "look in the
Bible. It is all told in the fifteenth chapter of
The Germans have the tale this way. Ages ago
there went one Sunday morning an old man into
the forest to cut wood. When he had made a
bundle he slung it on his staff, cast it over his
:shoulder, and started for home. On his way he
met a minister, all in his bands and robes, who
.asked him:
"Don't you know, my friend, that it, is Sunday
on earth, when all must rest from their labors ? "
Sunday on earth, or Monday in heaven, it is all
one to me laughed the woodman.
Then bear your burden forever," said the
priest; "and as you value not Sunday on earth,
you shall have Monday in heaven till the great
Thereupon the speaker vanished, and the man
was caught up, with cane and fagots, into the
moon, where you can see him any clear night.
In Norway they think they see both a man and
woman, and the story goes, that the former threw
brambles at people going to church, and the latter
made butter on Sunday. In the clear, cold nights
of winter they will point out the man carrying
his bundle of thorns, and the woman her butter-
It is so with the Wandering Jew. There is no
Christian country that has not this legend, and yet
no two are alike. The great artist, Gustave Dore,
represents him as standing at the door of his shop
refusing to let the Savior rest, and laughing at the
words, "WALK TILL I RETURN In another
picture, he is a very old man, worn with toil, tired
of travel, bent under the curse, but still trudging
on. In a third, the last trump having sounded and

all the dead awakening, while every one else is
shaking with fear, the weary man sits down, casts
off his sandals, and rejoices to rest.
About three hundred years ago, Dr. Paul von
Eitzen saw an old man, whose hair hung over his
shoulders, standing barefoot while the service in
church proceeded, and bowing reverently at every
mention of the name of Jesus. The doctor sought
him out and inquired who he was.
"A native of Jerusalem," he replied, "by name
Ahasuerus, and a shoemaker by trade. I SAW
"What 1 exclaimed the good doctor, starting
back in alarm.
"Yes," continued the Jew, "I saw Christ on
his cross. As he was led by my door, where I was
standing with my little boy, the Lord Jesus wanted
to rest, but I would not permit it. 'Go on, King
of the Jews,' I said. He gave me one sorrowful
look, and said, 'Go YOU ALSO,' and from that
hour, fifteen hundred years ago, I have walked the
Dr. Eitzen said that the Jew never received alms,
never laughed, appeared penitent, read God's word,
spoke all languages, and convinced many of the
truth of what he said. No doubt; for in those
days people were credulous, and this most thrilling
of all myths, believed to be countenanced in the
28th verse of Matthew xvi.; took strong hold of
the imagination. The man, beyond doubt, was an
arrant impostor, and yet he left an impress in Ger-
many that has never been effaced. In the powers of.
figures he took great pleasure, and many interest-
ing mathematical problems which he propounded
are remembered. For instance, the property of
the number 9, is said to have been first pointed
out by the Wandering Jew; i.e., that when 9 is
multiplied by 2, by 3, by 4, &c., the digits com-
posing the product, when added together, give 9.
2 X 9= iSand I + 8 9
3 X 9= 27 2+7=9
4X 9 36 3+6=9
5 X 9 45 4 + 5 9
6X 9 54 5+4=9
7X 9 = 63 6+3 = 9
8 X 9 = 72 7+2=9
9X 9 =81 8+I 9
9 X 10 = 9 9 + = 9

It will be noticed that 9 X II = 99, and that the
sum of these digits is 18, but the sum of this sum,
i + 8 =9.
9 X 12 = io8 and I + + 8 =9
9 X 13 = 7 I + I + 7 = 9
9 X 14 = 126 1+2+6=9
and so on to any extent. The following, among



many other magical squares, is attributed to the
Wandering Jew:
2 7 6
9 5 i
4 3 8
These nine figures added horizontally, perpendicu-
larly, or diagonally, make 15.
These magical squares were used as amulets.
Written on small pieces of parchment, embroidered
on fine linen, graven over the entrance to a house,
inscribed on the fly-leaf of a book, wrought into
clothing, or stamped upon goods offered for sale,
these magical squares were held during the middle
ages to heal in sickness or to preserve in contagion.
Albert Diirer, the great artist of his age, was not
free from the superstition. Over the doorway of
his house, where, under the bell, he had carved a
most perfect figure of Melancholy, was inscribed
the following magical square as a preservative
against evils and mischief:

16 3 2 13
5 10 II 8
9 6 7 12
4 15 14 1
These numbers, from one to sixteen, if added up
and down, or from end to .end, or corner-wise,

amount to thirty-four. Very ingenious, surely;
but it is strange how wise and good men could have
believed that mere combinations of figures, however
curious, would prevent a house from taking fire, or
doors from being broken open by robbers, or dis-
eases from entering one's home.
All superstitions are foolish. To fasten a horse-
shoe near the door to procure good-luck, or to
throw salt over the shoulder to prevent ill; to be
glad to have first seen a new moon over the right;
or sad to be sitting thirteen at table; to turn
twice around before setting out a second time, or to
frame a mental wish after speaking simultaneously
the same words with another, are practices un-
worthy of our day, making children of grown people
and fools of boys and girls. To believe that the gift
of a crooked sixpence betokens good fortune, or of
a knife, bad; that- killing a swallow will make cows
give bloody milk, or that crossing your stockings
before going to bed insures happy dreams; that
beginning a work on Friday is unlucky, or a thrice-
repeated dream a prediction, are each and all as
silly as to lay food before an idol of wood or to bury
bow and arrows with a dead Indian warrior.
Religion is one thing; superstition another.
The two are opposite. The former pays honor to
God; the latter does homage to Ignorance.


By J. R.

C-A-P-R-I-C-I-O-U-S-N-E-S-S That's a pretty
word to put in a story-book for a little fellow like
me I wonder what it means, anyhow "
Tommy always scolds a little when a hard word
trips him up. He does n't like hard words. How
can he find out what they mean, he says; and if
he skips them, he never knows how much of the
story he has missed. Besides, there 's no use in
skipping them, for they are sure to keep turning
up; and a fellow might as well learn them first as
last. Of course, it's a trouble to be asking some
one, "What's this?" and "What's that?" every
little while, especially when everybody is busy read-
ing or working; and it is n't easy for a little fellow
to be running to the dictionary every time he
stumbles over a long word; still anything is better
than skipping.
I can't help watching him with the corner of my

eye, as he stands with his elbows on the window-
sill, resting his chubby cheek on his hand.
Presently a smile begins to flicker round Tom-
my's mouth ; his eyes dance a little, and the ghost
of a laugh ripples over his face, without making a
bit of noise. He would n't laugh that way if we
were in the woods!
What is it ? I ask.
Little Billy."
What's happened to Billy ?"
"Nothing, only, he's trying to jump outside of
himself, while his mother eats the posters off the
wall, in spite of that boy with a stick. He 's such
a funny rascal! Do all goats act that way ?"
What way, Tommy?"
Why, as Billy does. He 's so comical! He '11
be trotting along as sober as an old sheep and
whisk! he '11 go off at one side, rearing and bunt-



ing and flinging. out his heels as though he 'd swal-
lowed a fire-cracker. You never can tell when he 's
going to cut up his monkey shines."
That 's a characteristic of goats, I believe."
Just look at him now Did you ever see any-
thing so funny? .It always makes me laugh to
see him frisk about and flirt that ridiculous stump


of a tail he has. It looks just as though it had havi
been broken off and stuck on again the wrong way. "6
There's a caper for you! Just look at him." when
Did you ever hear of the Romans, Tommy ? play.
"Romulus and Remus and Julius Caesar, and "]
all those old fellows that lived a long time ago ? we lil
Of course I have." "
Don't you know that if Julius Casar had said, whin
'There 's a cafer,' he 'd have meant simply, "'
'There 's a goat? of y
"Would he? Why? Caper does n't mean goat, them
does it ? fore
"Not now, but it used to." mind
And is that the reason why we call funny thing
things that a fellow does when he feels good and and
does n't -know what to do, capers ? reason
Precisely. To cafer, is to do odd things with- Here
out any particular purpose, just as goats do." "
I never knew that words came about in that stance
way." 1 "
"They do, very often. Don't you know how "(
we call a greedy boy a pig, or one that goes bawl- that
ing around for nothing a little calf? anytl
Oh yes 1 And we call a fellow that is always ""
bossing around, a bully ? It '11

Certainly. Even the dictionary-makers have
mit it."
Dictionary-makers 1 Do dictionaries tell any-
g about where our words come from?"
Certainly; and capital stories you can make of
I, too. Fetch me that big one there, on the
r shelf. Can you lift it ? "
Humph Pity if I can't lift
a book as big as that! "
Here we are 1 Thank you.
"- Now, let's look at cafer. Here
it is:
S "' CAPER. (L. Caper, a
"That L' stands for Latin,
the language the Romans used
to talk. You 'll hear enough
about that before you are done
going to school!
S "The meaning of cafer, you
see, is, 'a skipping, leaping or
jumping in frolicsome mood,
after the manner ofa goat,' and
To Cafer, means, 'to dance,
skip or leap in a frolicsome
-- manner.' "
Dolly says, Quit your ca-
fpering sometimes when I 'm
ig a little fun, and make too much noise."
And I've heard you say the same to Billy,
you wanted to lead him and he wanted to
You know what it -means.
Here 's another word of the same sort, which
kewise owe to Master Billy :
'CAPRICE.-A sudden start of the mind; a
; a freak; a fancy.'
You 've seen such actions, I dare say, in' some
our playmates. You never can depend on
. One moment they want to play ball; be-
you can begin to play, they have changed their
s, and want to play horse, or tag, or some-
else. One moment they are very friendly,
the next they're off in a huff,-without any
*n for it. Such people are called capricious.
's the word, a little further along."
Why, that's the very word I could n't under-
i in my book "
Was it? Look."
Oh, no! It's capriciousness. I know what
means now. But who 'd have thought it had
thing to do with a Billy-goat? "
That 's a wonderful book, that dictionary.
pay you to study it."




AT a fort in Florida, during the Seminole war, a
man named Richard Blount lay wounded and
dying. A keen observer might have discerned in
the emaciated features, well covered by an iron-
grey, untrimmed beard, traces of refinement-
almost effaced, it is true, by the unmistakable
marks of a turbulent, and perhaps criminal, career.
The surgeon in charge of the stockade seemed
a man of warm heart and tender sympathies, which
had not been blunted by familiarity with suffering.
He carefully tended the dying soldier, doing all in
his power, by words and actions, to soothe his last
hours. This kindness was not without results.
Impressed by attentions to which he had long
been unaccustomed, Richard Blount-taciturn and
reserved by habit, if not by nature-grew more
communicative, and, at the last, made certain rev-
elations concerning transactions of which no other
living man had any knowledge.
One afternoon, as the sun was setting red and
broad in a burning haze behind the motionless
palmettoes, and the mocking-bird was pouring
forth his wealth of music by the still bayous where
the alligator basked unmolested, Richard, who was
feeling stronger than usual, after a period of silence
and mental struggle with.himself, said :
Doctor, you 've been mighty good to me. You
are the first person who has spoken a kind word to
me for many years. I 've led a hard life of it, and
very likely don't deserve any better than I've re-
ceived, yet I can't forget that I was oice a better
man and used to kind words from those who loved
me. And now, although I am both poor and for-
saken, yet believe me when I say that it is in my
power to make you as wealthy as your wildest
fancies could desire. I was born in England; I
have not a single relation now living, and to you it
can be of no consequence what were the circum-
stances of my early life. It is enough to say that I
was the younger son of a good family, and was
destined to the church, for which I was totally un-
fitted. I was sent to Oxford, but an insatiable
thirst for adventure caused me to run away. After
various fortunes in many parts ,of the world, in
which the cards were generally against me, it was
at last my luck to find myself shipped with the
crew of a pirate schooner, and a motley set we
were-Spaniards, Englishmen, Frenchmen, Itali-
ans, Yankees, Greeks-men of all races. Two or
three years I sailed in her, boarding and burning
vessels in the Spanish main. At length a rumor

reached the nest of pirates to which I belonged that
the English Government was about to take vigorous
measures to capture our vessels and destroy our
rendezvous. As we had for a long time been very
successful, without any serious molestation, there
was all the more reason to believe the report. A
council of war was called, in which words ran high.
But it was decided that, as our rendezvous was.
well known and would most likely be attacked first
and we should' be unable to defend ourselves
successfully against such forces as could be sent
against us, we ought at once to remove our posses-
sions and conceal them for awhile in some unknown
hiding-place. With us to decide was to act, and
without further delay the treasure, which was enor-
mous, being the accumulated spoil of many hard
fights and scuttled ships, was stowed in the holds
of our vessels. (A little water, surgeon, if you'll
be so good.)
So immense," continued Richard, after a mo-
ment, was the stock of dollars and doubloons
and jewelry that no other ballast was needed for
the schooners. When everything was on board
we set fire to the cabins on shore, and by the
glare of the burning houses dropped down the
lagoon and made an offing. We headed for the
coast of Florida, and, the moon being at the full,
shoved the schooners into an inlet, whose where-
abouts was known to one of our captains, a native
of Florida, born at Key West, son of a wrecker, I
think. It was a very quiet part of the country,
without so many people as there are about it now;
and they are n't over thick even now. We had
sent some men ashore in a boat in the morning to
find the exact entrance, and after dark they lit a
fire on the beach; so we knew just where to put
the schooners. At daylight we sailed a long way
up the bayou, winding about from bend to bend,
with sweeps or tacking along the shore, and blaz-
ing the trees as we went along, until we came to a
clearing in the woods, where the trees seemed to
have been felled by a hurricane. It was gloomy
and silent enough--a solitude which we disturbed
perhaps for the first time. Here we made the ves-
sels fast to the trees, and all hands went ashore.
We made tents of old sails, and in a few hours, to
see the smoke streaming up among the trees, and
see the boys capering after squirrels and climbing
after birds' nests, or flinging sticks at the alligators,
you would have thought it was an old settlement."
After a brief interval of rest, Richard went on :



" When the provisions and everything else had
been taken out of the schooners we hove out the
ballast (you remember, it was dollars), and carried
it into the middle of the clearing. Each man put
his share into an earthen pot; his name, written
on a bit of parchment, was placed inside, and his
initials were scratched on the outside, and it was
then sealed up carefully. The pots of gold and
silver were then buried in a circle in holes dug
tolerably deep in the ground, and every man planted
a small tree over his treasure. Our common stock
of treasures we next sealed up in a large jar, and
buried this in the center of the circle and planted a
good-sized tree over this also.
After we had secured our valuables, as con-
siderable time had been lost in doing all this, it was
decided that the schooners should go off on another
expedition at once, and they put to sea, leaving a
few men under my charge to look after the camp
and the treasure. Several weeks went by, and no
news came from the absent schooners. Our stock
of provisions began to run low, and it was impos-
sible to get anything in that desolate maze of a
morass, overgrown with tangled forests and cut up
by muddy streams and bayous, especially as we
had planted nothing in -the clearing, and had not
cleared any more of the land, as we expected that,
of course, the schooners would soon return with a
fresh stock. We had always been so lucky that
not a soul of us dreamed of any trouble. Anyhow,
the schooners never came back, nor did I ever
afterward get any clue to their fate. They were
probably .captured and burned, or more likely
foundered in a hurricane.
"The rainy season was coming on, and before
long several of our number had fallen off with
starvation and disease. My comrades and I talked
over the situation, and finally concluded to look out
for number one, and leave the treasure to take care
of itself.
"Well, we had a ship's boat with us, and one
day, after putting a few mouldy biscuits in our
pockets, we took to our boat and followed the
bayou until we came to the sea. Then we skirted
the coast until we reached a settlement, and after
that separated in different directions, for there was
no tie of friendship to bind us, and we each had a
sort of dread that the others might some way be-
tray him. For years after I wandered about the
country,-sometimes on the frontier,-until I en-
listed in the army, not caring much what became
of me, but half hoping that perhaps I should be
sent to Florida, as turned out to be the case, to fight
these Seminoles, and so perhaps catch a chance to
look up the treasure we had buried in the forest.
I never had had the ready money, nor, I 'm not
ashamed to say, the courage to go back alone to

that spot; but I got this shot in the leg, and here
I am, and much good that treasure has done me I
But it don't seem quite the thing, you see, that all
that money and treasure should be buried there
and be of no kind of use to anybody, and as you are
the first and the last person that 's been kind to
me these many years, I '11 trust to you to see that I
have decent burial, and will tell you just how to
go to find the treasure. It's all truth I 've been
telling you, and you need n't be afraid I'm spin-
ning you a forecastle yarn, but just do as I direct
you to do, and it '11 make you the richest man in
the country; and I don't know who deserves it
Richard Blount, after this, gave the surgeon very
minute directions as to how to go in quest -of the
treasure. On the next day the pirate died. As
soon after this as the surgeon could get leave of
absence, he made arrangements with a friend to go
after the supposed mine of wealth concealed in the
forests of Southern Florida. He could not quite
believe the story, but the circumstances under
which it had been disclosed and the fact that money
had often been concealed by the freebooters of the
sea, made it sufficiently probable to warrant char-
tering a small, light-draught schooner and engag-
ing a crew of blacks able to work the vessel and
willing to dig in the mud after gold. It was only
by a very close and tedious observation of the coast
that the mouth of the bayou was found. On enter-
ing it from the sea, the line of trees which had been
blazed was also discovered with some difficulty and
traced from bend to bend in the dusky light of the
primeval forest.
Guided by this clue, often but faintly distin-
guishable, the treasure-seekers, after slowly sail-
ing along the devious mazes of the silent waters
of the wilderness until they almost despaired of
reaching the end in view, at last burst suddenly
upon a sort of clearing in the dense mass of vege-
tation, overgrown with trees of younger growth,
arising from which a circle of larger trees could be
distinctly traced, with a central shaft lifting its
feathery tuft of foliage far up into the blue sky.
Tent-stakes and other relics of extinct life were also
visible amid the rank grass which overgrew the
soil. Everything, thus far, had proved exactly as
described by Richard Blount, and it was reasonable
to suppose that, as the story had been found to
tally in the minutest details with facts, it would
continue consistent throughout. It was, therefore,
with renewed zest and with the burning impatience
which tortures the soul when one is confident of the
result and sees the desired object almost in his
grasp, that the doctor seized a pick-axe, and order-
ing his men to follow suit, broke ground in the last
stage of the quest after a treasure which his fevered


fancy pictured as more and more colossal as the
rapturous moment approached when it would be
opened to view. Such was his impatience that he
was the first to make a discovery. The point of
the pick, after turning up the soft soil almost noise-
lessly for some anxious minutes, at last struck



something hard with a most decided click. The
next stroke the sound was repeated and at the same
time a bit of red pottery was thrown up. The doc-
tor, perspiring with excitement, flung aside the
pick-axe and, falling on his knees, began to draw
out the earth with his hands, while everyone stopped
his work and looked on with breathless expectation.
It took but a minute to bring to light an earthen

jar, but on trying to raise it they found it was
cracked in several pieces, and that the bottom had
fallen out. What was more important, the jar was
empty! Here was a disappointment, to be sure;
but they would not yet give up heart; there were
still many jars, and perhaps this one was only a


blind." But jar after jar was turned up and all
were found more or less broken, and not a dollar
did one of them contain. Last of all, the searchers
cut down the central tree and unearthed the large
jar over which it stood. This also, crowning disap-
pointment of all, was in the same condition and
contained only earth-worms. Baffled, but not quite,
disheartened, the treasure-seekers, as a last resort,



dug several feet below where the central jar had
been. They did not find the treasure they sought,
but they ascertained where it had gone.
They came to water, and thus discovered the
solution of the mystery, and what had robbed
them of the gold. They stood on a mere alluvial
crust of oozy soil, under which the water percolated
at some depth below. The moisture of the earth
had softened the jars, and the weight of the treasure
had carried away the bottoms and caused it gradu-
ally to sink lower and lower, as in a quicksand,
until it had dropped into the water and, of course,
out of sight.
There was nothing more to be done but to aban-,
don further operations for the time, as such a result

had not been foreseen and the means for raising
the money were not at hand. But the following
year the doctor returned to the bayou with a pump-
ing machine and ample apparatus for his purpose,
and after much labor was partially rewarded for his
. Doubloons and guineas, vases and caskets of
precious metals elaborately chased, the handiwork
of skilled artisans of various races and ages, and
gems of price, which had long lain concealed in
the slime of the forest, again flashed in the sun-
beams. But all the lost treasure was not regained;
some of it eluded the closest scrutiny of avarice
or enterprise, and still lies buried forever under
the waters and the sod of Florida.


BY H. H.

How did I know what the ants had for dinner
last Monday ? Ha, it is odd that I should have
known, but I'll tell you how it happened.
I was sitting under a big pine-tree, high up on a
high hill-side. The hill-side was more than seven
thousand feet above the sea, and that is higher
than many mountains which people travel hundreds
of miles to look at. But this hill-side was in Colo-
rado, so there was nothing wonderful in being so
high up. I had been watching the great mountains
with snow on them, and the great forests of pine-
trees,-miles and miles of them,-so close together
that it looks as if you could lie down on their tops
and not fall through; and my eyes were tired with
looking at such great, grand things, so many miles
off; so I looked down on the ground where I was
sitting, and watched the ants which were running
about everywhere, as busy and restless as if they
had the whole world on their shoulders.
Suddenly I saw, under a tuft of grass, a tiny yel-
low caterpillar, which seemed to be bounding along
in a very strange way. In a second more, I saw
an ant seize hold of him and begin to drag him off.
The caterpillar was three times as long as the ant,
and his body was more than twice as large round
as the biggest part of the ant's body.
Ho ho Mr. Ant," said I, "you need n't think
you're going to be strong enough to drag that fel-
low very far."
Why, it was about the same thing as if you or I
should drag off a heifer, kicking and struggling
VOL II.--3.

for dear life all the time; only that the heifer
has n't half so many legs to catch hold of things
with as the caterpillar had. Poor caterpillar how
he did try to get away But the ant never gave
him a second's time to take a good grip of any-
thing; and he was cunning enough, too, to drag
him on his side, so that he could n't use his legs
very well. Up and down, and under and over
stones and sticks ; in and out of tufts of grass; up
to the very top of the tallest blades, and then down
again; over gravel and sand, and across bridges
of pine-needles from stone to stone; backward all
the way,-but, for all I could see, just as swiftly as
if he were going head-foremost,-ran that ant,
dragging the caterpillar after him. I watched him
very closely, thinking, of course, he must be
making for his house. Presently, he darted up the
trunk of the pine-tree.
Dear me said I, "ants don't live in trees !
What does this mean ?"
The bark of the tree was all broken and jagged,
and full of seams twenty times as deep as the
height of the ant's body. But he did n't mind;
down one side and up the other he went. They
must have been awful chasms to him; and to the
poor caterpillar too, for their sharp edges caught
and tore his skin, and doubled him up a dozen
ways in a minute. And yet the ant never once
stopped or went a bit slower. I had to watch very
closely, not to lose sight of him altogether. I be-
gan to think that he was merely trying to kill the


caterpillar; that, perhaps, he did n't mean to eat
him, after all. Perhaps he was merely a gentle-
manly sportsman ant, out on a frolic. How did I
know but some ants might hunt caterpillars, just
as some men hunt deer, for fun, and not at all
because they need food? If I had been sure of
this, I would have spoiled Mr. Ant's sport for hini
very soon, you may be sure, and set the poor cater-
pillar free. But I never heard of an ant's being
cruel; and if it were really for dinner for his family
that he was working so hard, I thought he ought
to be helped and not hindered. Just then my
attention was diverted from him by a sharp cry
overhead. I looked up, and there was an enormous
hawk, sailing round in circles, with two small birds
flying after him, pouncing down on his head, and
then darting away, and all the time making shrill
cries of fright and hatred. I knew very well what
that meant. Mr. Hawk also was out trying to do
some marketing for his dinner; and he had had
his eye on some little birds in their nest; and there
were the father and mother birds driving him away.
You would n't have believed two such little birds
could have driven off such a big creature as the
hawk, but they did. They seemed to fairly buzz
round his head as flies do round a horse's head,
and at last he just gave up and flew off so far that
he vanished in the blue sky, and the little birds
came skimming home again into the wood.
"Well, well," said -I, the little people are
stronger than the big ones, after all! Where has
my ant gone ?"
Sure enough! It had n't been two minutes that
I had been watching the hawk and the birds, but in
that two minutes the ant and the caterpillar had
disappeared. At last I found them-where do you
think ? In a fold of my water-proof cloak, on which
I was sitting The ant had let go of the cater-
pillar, and was running round and round him, per-
fectly bewildered; and the caterpillar was too near
dead to stir. I shook the fold out, and as soon as
the cloth lay straight and smooth, the ant fastened
his nippers in the caterpillar again, and started off
as fast as ever. I suppose if I could have seen his
face, and had understood the language of ants'
features, I should have seen plainly written there,
" Dear me, what sort of a country was that I tum-
bled into, so frightfully black and smooth ? By
this time the caterpillar had had the breath pretty
well knocked out of his body, and was so limp and
helpless that the ant was not afraid of his getting
away from him. So he stopped a second now and

then to rest. Sometimes he would spring on the
caterpillar's back, and stretch himself out there;
sometimes he would stand still on one side and
look at him sharply, keeping one nipper on his
head. All the time, though, he was working steadily
in one direction ; he was headed for home now, I
felt very certain. It astonished me very much at
first, that none of the ants he met took any notice
of him; they all went on their own way, and never
took so much as a sniff at the caterpillar. But
pretty soon I said to myself:
You stupid woman, not to suppose that ants
can be as well behaved as people When you
passed Mr. Jones yesterday, you did n't peep into
his market-basket, nor touch the big cabbage he
had under his arm."
Presently, the ant dropped the caterpillar, and
ran on a few steps-I mean inches-to meet an-
other ant who was coming toward him. They put
their heads close together for a second. I could
not hear what they said, but I could easily im-
agine, for they both ran quickly back to the cater-
pillar, and one took him by the head and the other
by the tail, and then they lugged him along finely.
It was only a few steps, however, to the ant's
house; that was the reason he happened to meet
this friend just coming out. The door was a round
hole in the ground, about as big as my little finger.
Several ants were standing in the door-way, watch-
ing these two come up with the caterpillar. They
all took hold as soon as the caterpillar was on the
door-step, and almost before I knew he was fairly
there, they had tumbled him down, heels over
head, into the ground, and that was the last I saw
of him.
The oddest thing was, how the ants came run-
ning home from all directions. I don't believe
there was any dinner-bell rung, though there
might have been one too fine for my ears to hear;
but in less than a minute, I had counted thirty-
three ants running down that hole. I fancied they
looked as hungry as wolves.
I had a great mind to dig down into the hole
with a stick, and see what had become of the
caterpillar. But I thought it was n't quite fair to
take the roof off a man's house to find out how he
cooks his beef for dinner; so I sat still awhile, and
wondered whether they would lay him out straight
on the floor, and all stand in rows each side of him
and nibble across, and whether they would leave
any for Tuesday; and then I went home to my
own dinner.





ONCE was a meadow, where in the June weather
Daisies and buttercups blossomed together.
There came a field-lark and built her a nest,-
Five speckled eggs she hid under her breast;
Sitting alone, while afar and above her
Rang the sweet song of her mate and true lover;
While the brown bees all about her were humming,
And the gay butterflies going and coming,
Dear little mother-lark never grew weary,
Never once found herself lonesome or dreary.
Five baby-larks to be had for the hatching!
That, she thought, paid for her waiting and watching.

When, by and by, came a creeping and cheeping,
That told the young things from the egg-shells were peeping,-
Oh cried the mother-bird, chirping, caressing, -
"What have I done to deserve such a blessing
Perfect in form, and delightful in features,
Who could have dreamed of such exquisite creatures ?"
Day after day, in a rapture of pleasure,
She fluttered and fidgeted over her treasure;
Cuddled them, sang to them, morning and noon,
Told all the sweet things that happen in June-
How the red roses, and larkspur, and clover,
Dressed in their jewels would sparkle all over;
How, by and by,-and the lark gave a sigh,-
All those poor blossoms would wither and die.
But before snow came, or wintry wild weather,
They would spread wing and fly south all together.

Once, with a tale on the tip of her tongue,
Poor little mother-lark left it unsung ;
Over her frightened head, gleaming and ringing,
Came a long scythe, through the meadow-grass swinging.
Dear little lark, all a-tremble for breath,
Covered her babies, and waited for death.
But it flashed over her; then to the crisis
Bravely she rose, with her ready devices;
Wasted no time in complaint or repining,
But plucked the dry grasses, and twisting and twining,
Wove her a roof to arch over her nest,
Nor stopped for a moment to idle or rest.
Weaving it, one of the mowing-men found her,
While the scythes glistened and whistled around her.
Then he declared that on her and her brood,
Danger nor terror again should intrude.
So all the day, through the coming and going,
Mother-lark sat undisturbed by the mowing;
And long before winter, or stormy wild weather,
All the young larks had gone flying together.





Now I always said the coon was n't to blame,
and I say so still. What do you think? There
was nothing like a looking-glass to be had in that
great, green parade-ground ; not even a bit of still
pool where one might trim whiskers or smooth
rough locks. Could he imagine himself ugly
enough to give the children fits ?
He was a queer fellow, for all the world like a
small round muff of stiff grey fur, into which had
crept a tiny animal. From one opening of the
muff peeped a sharp nose, while from the opposite
end hung a round fuzzy tail, .like a pussy-cat's.
Now suppose he had known all this he might n't
even then have thought himself a fright.
He may be in the fashion at some New South
Wales of the animal kingdom.
This is all about it. The coon was out for a
walk, ,the evening being fine. First he smelled
about the back-yard, where there was a charming
fragrance of chicken from day-before-yesterday's
Then he crossed the parade and inspected Post
No. 2, where the sentinel was walking up and down
on the dry spots of the pavement. Three steps to
the right brought him in front of the Colonel's
quarters-an old-fashioned brick house, full of win-

dows. It was just beginning to open one bright
eye after another, as lamps were lit here and there.
Master Coon halted in front of the door, and just
then Sylvia, the children's nurse, came out with a
white pitcher in her hand to go for water to the
street pump.
After Sylvia, poured a broad ribbon of red light
into the grey twilight, and then came a puff of
warm air, blown up the kitchen stairway, through
the hall and out at the open door. That was a
pleasant, coaxing little breeze It wrapped about
you gently, like a warm shawl, and brought such
agreeable news from the kitchen, where Mamma
Frances was getting tea! Each little gale came
rushing out, brimful of its own secret; and the
coon heard them all.
"Tea whispered one.
Toast! cried another.
And the third was bursting with Stewed oys-
ters "
Oh, Sylvia! why did you stay so long at the
pump? And why could n't you let the Hobson's
Joe go home quietly with the family rolls ? But
then, to be sure, I should have had nothing to say.
Oh it was dreadful to turn a virtuous nose and
a deaf ear to the pleadings of those unprincipled



gusts of perfumed air who laughed together as they
ran up stairs, and sang, over and over again, the
same words, "Tea!" "Toast!" "Stewed oys-
ters "
At last at last that chilly, shivery animal could
bear it no longer. Sylvia came up the steps with
the water-pitcher balanced on her head, and presto!
Master Coon slipped into the hall before her and
waited in a corner for further orders from his nose.
But alas! in the meantime somebody shut the
door,-the kitchen door,-and though he could
hear the wind moan and whine on the other side,
there was that solid oak-plank between the sweet
oyster fragrance and that long, sharp nose which
could never creep into its muff.
Sylvia was in a terrible hurry, as usual; so, shut-
ting the hall door and opening the door of the din-
ing-room, she fell in with a sort of plunge, which
was her custom. What a pleasant sight! Fire-
lights, and little fair-haired children playing in the
red and yellow glow. Master Coon crept timidly
forward, but the burning logs shot a spiteful little
arrow, and by its light the odd intruder was revealed
to Harry, of all people.
He was tilted back in his chair, his hands clasped
behind his head, lazily enjoying the agreeable dis-
patches that the kitchen was sending in by way of
the dumb-waiter. But, half asleep as he seemed,
no sooner did the coon appear than he sprang up
with a bound and gave chase to the poor beast.
Hurrah Tally-ho Crash went the chair; away
flew Harry, and before him fled the terrified coon.
Oh, where? Here There Everywhere Up-
stairs-downstairs-down the passage-back again
-now a cross-cut behind the wood-box-to the
head of the stairs again --
Oh, cruel boy Oh, innocent coon !
Harry had long legs ; but the darkness was the
coon's friend. At last both made a halt. Harry
stopped half-way upstairs, listening in the dark for
any soft, rustling noises, and, only two steps off,
crouched the coon in a corner of the stairs, panting,
trembling, in an agony of fear.
"I say, Sylvia! bring a light here !" shoute
Sylvia, forgetting tea, children,-everything,-
fell upstairs with the kerosene lamp, which she
hastily caught from the table. Here was a dread-
ful new enemy, with rows of white, shining teeth
and heavy boots, which struck terror to the heart
of the fugitive. Downstairs he flew, three steps
at a time, while Sylvia was looking in all sorts of
impossible places and Harry was moving out the
wood-box to search behind it.
Meanwhile, as I said, the coon, passing them all
unnoticed, flew down the stairs and sprang off the
last three steps into the very face of little Julie !

Aunt Fanny was dressing in her room; mamma
in the kitchen was consulting Aunt Frances about
breakfast. Suddenly a piercing shriek rang through
the house, then another in a different key.
Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-w-w "
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-h-h "
Then came a duet.
Ohow-owoh-owoh !"
Aunt Fanny threw her towel over her shoulders,
unbolted the door and flew to the rescue. She had
ears only for the Ow-ow! notes, which she knew
to be the wail of her blue-eyed darling, Julie.
Mamma, at the same moment, arrived breathless
from the kitchen stairs, and above all the deafening
din she heard only the screams of Goldilocks-
Can't you see the tableau on the winding stair-
case ? Harry, greatly excited, but quite useless,
because wedged in behind the wood-box; Sylvia on
the landing holding the kerosene lamp as if it were
a pistol, and showing all her great teeth like a
healthy young cannibal; Aunt Fanny flying down
with hair streaming, towel flapping and shawl drag-
ging; mamma, at the foot of the stairs, angry,
breathless, distressed; on the third step from the
bottom Nelly, trembling with fright and screaming
in concert with Julie on the fifth stair.
What it all meant nobody knew, least of all the
agonized coon, who had taken refuge in the corner
on the door-mat. One thing seemed clear-the
babies were left to their fate in the lower hall alone,
and the anger of mamma and aunty broke forth.
Oh, Harry how could you leave -
To think of these poor "
Any one with the least man -
The most cruel -- "
The darlings; I would n't! "
Ow-ow! Oh-oh "
Owoh! ohow! "
The din was fearful, and the amazed Harry vainly
tried to make himself heard.
But, mamma, I did n't- "
My darling Julie, I never -
"Nelly, pet, did they leave -- '
I should think any boy "
"The darlings They shall never -
But Harry, floundering in this sea of words de-
termined to be heard, and putting together. his
closed fists, like a speaking-trumpet, roared, as a
captain might call to his crew in a north-easter:
But-I-did n't-do-anything-but-chase -
the-coo-oon "
Just at this moment papa opened the front-door
and Master Coon ran through as if twenty boys
were after him, to say nothing of cannibals with
great, white teeth. He ran fast and faster, till -he
slipped into a hole under the wood-pile, and there


in the darkness he listened and trembled for a long,
dismal hour. I need not tell you that he never
visited the Colonel's quarters again; and if he saw
Sylvia with the pitcher on her head, going to the
pump, or heard Harry's whistle, he scudded away
to that safe little hole, where he hid himself and his
Nelly and Julie sobbed and cried, and were kissed
and petted to their hearts' content. They were
also consoled by cakes 'from the cupboard and gum-

drops from Aunt Fanny's pocket, and were wise
enough not to be comforted so long as these good
things lasted.
Of course everything was explained. Everybody
proved to have been right and nobody in the
But it was a relief to find, after all, that one per-
son could be scolded, and that was Sylvia, who cer-
tainly ought not to have left the door open. Now
that is my moral.


IN and out, in and out,
Through the clouds heaped about,
Wanders the bright moon.

What she seeks, I do not know;
Where it is, I cannot show.

I am but a little child,
And the night is strange and wild.

In and out, in and out,
Wanders the bright moon-
In and out, in and out,
She will find it soon.

There she comes as clear as day, -
Now the clouds are going away.
She is smiling, I can see,
And she 's looking straight at me.

Pretty moon, so bright and round,
Wont you tell me what you found ?





HEY old Peanuts How much a pint ?"
Twelve cents," answered the old man who pre-
sided at the stand.
"But look here," said the ragged little ques-
tioner, could n't you let 'em go for ten cents,
seeing' as I want to keep Thanksgivin' and have n't
any more than this."
He held up a torn ten-cent stamp.
"That's no good," said the old man. "The
Government don't take torn ones."
There is quite a piece off it," said the boy,
looking wistfully at the piles of peanuts, but you
could pass it. It was passed on me."
The old man shook his head. Torn ones don't
go," he answered.
Gosh That's so," said the boy. I 've tried
it in three places. Can't keep Thanksgivin', I
s'pose. Wish I war you."
Do you ? asked the old man, smiling faintly.
But I am not keeping Thanksgiving either."
I would, if I war you," said the boy. I 'd
eat a whole quart."
You wouldn't, if you had no teeth to eat 'em
with," answered the old peanut seller, "and did n't
like 'em. Once I cared for peanuts; but that's
long ago."
What do you keer for now?" asked the boy.
How do you like to keep Thanksgiving ?"
I should n't care to keep it at all," said the old
man. I used to keep it; but one day is like an-
other now, and that is best for me. I have nothing
to be particularly thankful for now-a-days, and I
don't want to think of the old times."
How were the old times ?" asked the other
leaning against the lamp-post close by.
What 'd be the use of telling you," grumbled
the old man. You couldn't help me,-nobody
could that I know of."
Yet he went on as if it relieved him to tell his
troubles even to the small ragged boy beside him.
My boy John went out West, and was scalped
by the Injuns. I knew how it'd be. I wanted him
to stay on the old farm with me; it was in Penn-
sylvany; but it was a small place, and half stones,
and mortgaged for nearly all it was worth at that;
so he would go to make his fortune, as he said.
His wife that he left behind him till he cleared his
claim fit for her to live on,-why, in less 'n a year
after he was dead, she married again, and they

took John's boy with 'em to New York. That's
the last I heard of little Johnny."
But did n't you come to New York to look after
him ?" asked the boy.
Yes," answered the old man, of course I did,
or I would n't be on this Chatham street corner
selling peanuts to-day. She promised to write, but
she never did, so at last I could n't stand it any
longer and I sold the old place and came to
New York. I got partial track of 'em two or
three times, but at last I had to give it up.
Then my money was about gone, and I set up this
stand and have sold peanuts ever since-that's five
year. No, there 's no Thanksgiving for me unless
I find Johnny; and I never shall."
Mebbe you will," said the boy. "Things tarn
up sometimes when you aint a-lookin' fer 'em,
like this ten-cent stamp. I did n't set any hopes on
keeping' Thanksgivin'; but a man says to me, as I
was a-standin' in Fulton market, Would you carry
this turkey as far as the Third avenue cars ? So I
did. But as sure as my name is Johnny Mooney
I was cheated after all, unless you take it."
"Is your name Johnny ? asked the old man.
"Well, then, you shall keep Thanksgiving for me,
for your name."
He poured a pint of peanuts in Johnny's hat.
The boy held out the torn stamp.
"No, no," said the old man, throw it in the
gutter. I might pass it on somebody that'd go
hungry on account of it. I don't want to be wicked,
if I can't be thankful."
Then here she goes," said Johnny, tossing the
stamp into the gutter, and thank you, Old Pea-
nuts. But what makes the boys all call you Old
Peanuts ?' he added, cracking a nut between his
teeth; or mebbe it's your name ? "
It's as good a name as any other," said the old
man. I have n't seemed to myself to be John
Dorfling since that happened. So I'd rather be
called Old Peanuts."
Johnny went down Chatham street crunching
his peanuts and hopping in glee, and Old Pea-
nuts leaned his wrinkled cheeks in his hands and
May be worse things '11 come upon me by my
unthankfulness," he said to himself; "but I can't
be thankful. But worse could not come. If I had
only died long ago "


Presently another small boy stopped in front of
him,-ragged, shoeless and hatless, but with a
clean, jolly-looking face.
Five cents' worth of peanuts," he said, briskly.
Old Peanuts poured the peanuts into the boy's
pocket, which he held open to receive them.
And here 's a ten," said the boy.
"A torn one again!" said the old man. "It
looks like the very same one offered me just now.
Where 'd you get it ?"

i ...... 'l - -_--~-. ff *,*

"Out of the gutter down the street," said the
It must have gone floating down," said Old
Peanuts. Well, they say a bad penny always
turns up again."
Give me the five, quick," said the boy. I
want to buy some taffy with the rest."
Going to keep Thanksgiving, too, I s'pose,"
said the old man, though I 'd like to know what
you can have to be thankful for."
"Lots," said the boy. Fustly, for this luck.
I don't pick up ten-cent stamps every day."
Well, and what else? asked Old Peanuts.
"'Cause I'm going to get a splendid dinner.
But I must give my hair a-pullin' out, or they

wont let me in," he said, laughing and trying
to disentangle the mass of brown hair on his
"Who wont let you in ? asked Old Peanuts.
"Why, the Mission," answered the boy. "And
it's most time to be there."
"The stamp is n't good," said Old Peanuts,
handing it back to the boy.
"Why, yes, it is," said the boy. "It 's only


"But it's torn," said Old Peanuts. "I told a
boy just now to fling it into the gutter."
He must be a funny boy to fling stamps away,"
said the boy, laughing.
"No," said Old Peanuts; "not so funny as
you think; he only went in for being fair. But I
gave him a pint of peanuts because his name was
"Then you ought to give me a pint," said the
boy, laughing again, for my name's Johnny,
Don't stand there laughing at me and telling
lies said the old man, impatiently.
'T aint lies," answered the boy. My name
is Johnny. There! I can' prove it." He drew a



small thin card out of his jacket pocket and held
it up. Read that," he said, triumphantly.
It was a card of admission to the Mission-House
dinner. The old man snatched it and read John
You he said. His hands shook so that the
card slipped out of them. Just then there came a
gust of wind and away went the card and the boy
after it. The old man tried to call him back, but
he was too much agitated to speak. He shook in
every limb, but he started after the boy, running
as fast as he could. But the boy ran twice as fast,
and he disappeared around a corner. Then the
old man raised a feeble cry, Johnny Johnny !
Stop, Johnny He turned the corner, breathless,
but the boy was no longer in sight. On went the
old man, looking right and left, peering in the open
door-ways and gazing wildly down the cross-streets.
But suddenly he thought, "How silly I am He
has found his ticket and gone to the Mission
dinner." So, with renewed hope, he turned his
steps toward the Mission.
He explained his errand to the door-keeper, and
was ushered into a large room where two hundred
or more boys and girls sat at long tables laughing'
and talking merrily and devouring good things.
Up and down the passages Old Peanuts walked,;
gazing at every brown-haired boy; but he did not
see Johnny.
Then the children were appealed to. Silence
was called for and the question asked, Is John
Dorfling here, or does any one here know him ? "
But all the children shook their heads. The super-
intendent then searched the books and found the
name "John Dorfling," he said, "but no address.
He probably did not know it. Many of the chil-
dren cannot tell where they live."
But I suppose he will come in again next Sun-
day," said Old Peanuts.
The superintendent shook his head.
It is doubtful," he said. You see a great
many come in a week or two before Thanksgiving,
because we give them all a good dinner. But only
those who have been with us three months have
tickets to the Christmas festival. Yet he may come
next Sunday again. Drop in and see," he added,
unwilling to send the old man away without any
Ah if I had only staid at my stand," Old Pea-
nuts thought, as he hurried along to the Chatham
street corner. He has the ten cents and the pea-
nuts too, but if he is like his father he will come
back." So he went to his stand, vaguely expecting
to find his grandson there. But the other Johnny
stood beside the stand instead.
You ought not to leave your stand 'thout any-
body to look after it," he said. "A lot of fellers

war agoin' to make off with your peanuts, but I
happened up and hollered Perlice! and they
thought I owned the concern and took to their
heels. The perlice did n't come, but I kept guard
and sold five pints too. And there war a boy here
as said he owed you five cents, and "
Where is he ?" cried the old man.
Why, he left the five and he went away," said
the boy. "I don't know which way; I war n't
It was Johnny," said the old man, wringing
his hands. Now I shall never see him again."
In a choked voice he told the story.
"Don't take on," said the boy. "-Ef I'd
a-knowed it I 'd held onter him. Next time I will.
I'll know him again."
Ah said Old Peanuts, tears rolling down his
cheeks, I thought I could n't have more trouble;
but to find him only to lose him again, it is more
than I can bear. But he is a good, honest boy,-
I knew he was."
"I'll look for him," said the boy. I was
going to the Central Park to see the animals; but
never mind; and it's an awful ways to walk, so I
don't keer much. And here 's for the five pints."
No ; keep it for taking care of my stand," said
Old Peanuts.
No," said the boy. The peanuts you gave
me paid for that. I aint mean. Good-by. Don't fret.
Mebbe I'll fetch him along afore you know it."
The old man sat down by his stand, but he could
not rest.
"I'll look for him too," he said. Ah if I
could only find him I would keep Thanksgiving.
If God would only help me; but I have been so
unthankful to Him I have no right to expect it."
He locked up his stand and went down toward
the City Hall, then up Broadway and across Canal
street, then down to Chatham street again, and
through the dirty cross-streets and lanes,-up and
down-up and down, until his feet were so tired
that they slipped under him. At last when night
came he went back to his stand, unlocked it and
sat down on his stool. But he was worn out; and
as he leaned his head against the pine-boards his
eyes closed. Soon he was in dreamland. He was
keeping Thanksgiving with his wife and his son
and little Johnny. They were all at the village
church, singin* hymns, and then again at the old
farm-house, eating their Thanksgiving dinner.
Little Johnny climbed on his knee and kissed him,
and then pulled his hair in fun.
"'Don't pull so hard, Johnny," he said. And
then he opened his eyes.
"Yes, I must pull, if you don't wake up," said a
voice. We tried ticklin' and everything. You
sleep so sound."


Old Peanuts opened his eyes widely and rubbed
them, but still he was afraid that he was asleep, for
the two Johnnies stood beside him.
Went to Central Park after all," said the first
Johnny, and found him looking at the animals.
Thought mebbe I would."
Are you my grandpop?" asked Johnny num-
ber two. If you are, I 'm glad, though you made
me lose my dinner."
The old man drew the boy to him and held him
closely in his arms as if he were afraid he would
lose him again.
And your mother ? he asked. Will she let
me have you ?"
She died," answered the boy; died long ago
-him too; and I take care of myself helping a
junk man."
And hereafter Grandpap will take care of you,"
the old man said. Thank God, I have found
you, and now we will eat our Thanksgiving din-
So, hand in hand, the three walked up the Bow-
ery, and down a side street, to Old Peanuts' lodg-
ings. He bought a cooked turkey and other good
things on his way there, and at the door he stopped
to ask a neighbor or two to "come up and help
them be merry."
What a happy, blessed day they had, after all !
How they talked and laughed, and how Old Pea-
nuts leaned back in his chair and almost cried with

joy when Johnny sang a pretty song for them that
he had learned at ragged-school !
For the first time in years, John Dorfling, when
he sat down to the table, bowed his head in pen-
itence and grateful prayer. But his thanksgiving
did not end with that day, nor for many a day.

In fact, he is hale and hearty yet. This very
year he and Johnny hope to keep Thanksgiving "
with the other Johnny; and after dinner they all
are going to ride in the horse-cars to the Park to
see the animals.


SOME time since there appeared in the columns
of ST. NICHOLAS, an account of a Chinese boy
named Joseph, or, as it is called in Chinese, Ya-
sek, and it so reminded me of a little Arab boy in
Egypt of the same name that I decided to tell you
his story and show you the difference of the names
in Chinese and Arabic.
In Egypt Joseph is pronounced Yusuf, and writ-
ten as you see at the beginning of this sketch. You
must commence at the right hand and read toward
the left, which is the peculiarity of Arabic litera-
Little Yusuf was born on the shore of the Medi-

terranean sea, a few miles from the city of Alexan-
dria. His home was a most cheerless place to
civilized eyes; for it was a tent; not like the white,
gaily-trimmed tents that dot the sea-shores of our
summer resorts, but an old brown weather-beaten
affair, patched all over and looking as if a strong
gale of wind could easily blow it to pieces.
But here Yusuf spent his childhood; here he
built his miniature houses in the sand, waded into
the blue waves that curled on the shore, and sang
away the long sunny days as happy a little fellow
as ever lived.
That was a queer family to which he belonged.



The father was generally absent, for he was a camel-
driver, and spent much time on his "ship of the
desert," but the mother was always there; a brown-
faced woman, her chin and forehead tattooed, and
her hair, poor as she was, braided in long, broad
plaits and ornamented with gold coins.
There was a sister two years older than Yusuf,
but, like the Chinese, the Arabs care little for the
girls of a family, and only rejoice when a boy is
born; so Yusuf's sister was sadly neglected, as if a
very insignificant specimen of humanity.
Then there were the goats (a most important
part of the family), whose milk the mother sold.
They were perfectly at home in the little tent, and
ate and slept there without any hesitation or bash-
fulness. Many a time little Yusuf would fall asleep
with the goats beside him.
The first money that Yusuf ever earned was by
running out of the tent and begging every passer-by
for "backshush" (a present). I think he really
did earn those few pennies which were thrown to
him, for he would stand out in the hot sun and
shout Baksees till he was hoarse; and such a
laughable appearance did he make in his one loose
garment and fat little figure that many an amused
traveler threw him a piastre (about 2% cents) out
of pure good-nature.
As Yusuf grew older, however, he began to real-
ize that he could not spend his whole life begging
from a tent-door, and the thought suddenly flashed
across his mind, What shall I do ?"
At last he said, slowly, I should like to be a
donkey-boy." But to be a donkey-boy he must
own a donkey, and how to buy one was the ques-
Poor little Yusuf sat down in the sand and
counted, for the fiftieth time, his tiny store of silver,
and with a deep sigh finally put it away again, say-
ing, with true Egyptian philosophy :
Well, if the Lord wants me to have a donkey,
he will give me one." And having arrived at this
conclusion he went home with his usual contented
Leaving Yusuf for awhile, waiting like the im-
mortal Mr. Micawber, for "something to turn up,"
let us see what class of boys is this which our little
hero wishes to join.
The donkey is the great institution of Egypt.
The long-eared creatures crowd the narrow streets
of those far-off cities, ambling along sometimes
with a fat Turk balancing himself with difficulty
on the ungainly saddle. Again one paces along
carrying an amused traveler intent on sight-seeing.
And often, on the banks of the wondrous Nile,
under the shadow of the palm-trees, beneath the
golden light of the Egyptian skies, you may see
one bearing a woman with a child clasped in her

arms, so like to that old familiar picture that you
have looked upon many times, of Mary and the
infant Jesus in their flight into Egypt! It is a more
beautiful and touching sight than any other in that
Eastern land.
I had almost compared the donkey-boys of Egypt
to the news-boys of New York; and, indeed, I do
believe them to possess many traits in common.
Their rough, independent life, their intercourse
with every class of humanity, their shrewd cunning,
all may be found on this side the Atlantic in the
streets of our own city.
They are quick to catch foreign phrases, and
many of them can speak, though imperfectly, three
or four languages.
When his passenger is mounted, the owner of
the donkey-that is, the donkey-boy-always runs.
behind his property, urging him forward with a
stick which he carries and with one magic word,
well comprehended by the donkey, sounding like
" Haa The boy will often run a long distance,
apparently without fatigue, now and then breaking
out into a wild kind of singing. They are the
happiest race of boys in the world. What wonder
Yusuf wished to join them !
And it was this class of boys that Yusuf was de-
sirous of joining.
At present there was quite a band of them at
every station in Raml6,-the name of the settle-
ment where he lived,-and when the train was due
you could see them standing in waiting, with their
keen eyes wide open, and all their energies awake,
ready to spring upon the traveler like a cat upon
a mouse.
El barboor egy! (the train comes) is their
cry, as the iron horse comes snorting in at the
depot. Then they all rush upon the first unfortu-
nate man who alights, shouting :
"Tek dis donkey, howaga; he good donkey."
Another-" Coom here, mister; dat no good;
mine de best."
A third-" Tally yu sitt, ente owes el harmai? "
(" Come, lady; do you want a donkey ? ")
At last it is settled, and the riders go galloping
across the plains. They pay the boys a few piastres
for a short distance, and though they should sur-
prise them with a double amount, the little ungrate-
ful fellows will be sure to ask for more.
It was after watching these boys, and now and
then rendering them some assistance, that Yusuf
decided upon his vocation in life.
But time passed on in this strange monotonous
land where the cold snows and frosts never come
and the sun is ever shining. Still Yusuf seemed
as far away from his desired hopes as when they
first occurred to him.
One bright afternoon he was lying in the tent-


door half-asleep; the old mother sat busily making
the coarse brown bread, which was to serve as their
evening meal. The goats crouched in the sand in
the shadow of the tent with their noses pointed to
the sea, as if to sniff the fresh breeze that swept
softly inland, shaking the loose sides of the tent till
it sounded like the sails of a boat flapping in the
The little girl had gone down to the water in an
old woolen skirt that served as a bathing dress,
and was far out in the waves, jumping up and
down and plashing the crystal spray in every direc-
Suddenly there came a swift galloping from over
the plains approaching every second nearer. Yu-

and may the good Allah grant thee success and
So saying, he lifted the astonished boy into the
saddle, and at a word the donkey was off with his
delighted owner.
On, on, away over by the ruins of Caesar's Camp;
away on by the unfinished Palace of the Khedive,
that building which superstition says will always
remain uncompleted; for they say that the mother
of His Highness dreamed once that when it should
be finished her son would die. The workmen seem
always busy, but the palace grows slowly; and now
and then one part is torn down to be builded differ-
Yusuf began now to notice that the sun was very


suf sprang up, and shading his eyes from the sun
with his brown hand he looked in the direction of
the sound. The mother paused in her efforts at
bread-making, and put her tattooed face and torn
dress outside the tent. The water grew very quiet
around the little bather, yonder; she, too, was
shading her eyes and looking eagerly; even the
goats got up and came out of the shadow to see
what was the matter.
It is thy father, Yusuf," said the mother; but
he cometh sitting upon an ass."
As she thus spoke the father--for it was indeed'
he--alighted among them from a beautiful grey
donkey, and throwing the bridle to Yusuf, he said:
Take this gift, my son. I bestow it upon thee
that thou mayest go out and seek thy fortune;

low; and, as the twilights are short in Egypt, he
turned his face homeward that he might reach there
before dark.
Ah! that was a happy night for Yusuf!
What visions of wealth flitted before his mind as
he and his companion lay down to sleep after a
good supper.
Yusuf dreamed that the donkey spoke to him,
and that with every word pearls fell from his mouth.
But just as he was stooping to gather them up
he was awakened by the loud braying of his new
treasure, and springing up, he said:
"How now, my friend? Dost thou call me to
arise? Good morning to thee-good morning."
So Yusuf has at last gained his desire, and now
he is in the city of Cairo, among the donkey-boys




of that oriental place, fast learning their tricks babe in the bulrushes of the same mysterious river,
and their manners." But let us leave him on those hoping that some good hand will lift him up and
far-off banks of the Nile as Moses' mother left her save him from the dangers around.

/ f- "'"-.

/i 4

A- '2
- -.*
,-' j .\



Ocean Grove, N. J., 7uly 29, 1874.
DEAR MOTHER: I got here last night. Uncle
Ben's folks live in a tent. We have lots of black-
Willie has got a shovel to dig. He digs sand,
and it feels nice to your feet. He goes barefoot,
and I am going barefoot. All the boys go barefoot.
Please send me fifty cents, all together, and I will
write the other letters pretty soon. I want it to buy
a shovel, so I can dig too. Willie says he would
not write a letter for the best ten cents that ever
was born; but I told him a bargain 's a bargain;
and Uncle Ben said, Stick to that, Mister Gritty."'
I was 'most starving on the cars, and had to get
some candy, and the boy said may be there was a
gold watch or a gold ring in the candy; but there
was n't; so please send me the fifty cents. Aunt
Martha sleeps in a lounge that has a bed inside of
it, and Willie and I sleep on the floor, on a bed.
In the morning, hers shuts right up and makes a
lounge, and ours is put away, I think, for it is n't
there; only the floor.
I guess I don't make much trouble yet. I got
some candy on my shirt, and some sand, but I
wiped it off with my handkerchief. We came in a
stage from Long Branch. I saw the President's
house and the ocean. It has some pine-trees before
it. And I saw a man with a tall white hat on him
and a real cigar, and it was the President.

I sat with the driver, and the horses stepped in
the mud. It came on my face, and my handker-
chief stuck, so the driver let me take his. It was
the shirt that made it stick so.
There 's lots of carriages here; and the driver is
a black man, with white gloves and white pants and
a tall white hat and tall shiney boots, and he sits up
very straight; and a black coat, with two rows of
gold buttons on the front side and tails.
The women look funny here. They have great
big men's hats and blue glasses, and big umbrellas
when it don't rain; and they walk round.
Willie goes in bathing 'most every day, and I am
going this afternoon.-Your boy,
P. S.-How is the baby? Please don't forget to
send the fifty cents. D. H.

August 10, 1874.
DEAR MOTHER : I got the fifty cents and your
letter. I got a shovel. This letter makes twenty
cents. There's a nawful big tent, and they are
going to have a camp-meeting. They preach right
outdoors on Sunday, only there's a little house
with a bill on it where the preacher is.
They have Sunday-school in the big tent, and
it's jolly. I go bathing every day. The men wear
trousers, and the women, wear trousers too, with
little skirts and men's hats. Uncle Ben takes me


in, and when the breakers come he lifts me 'way
up. The breakers are when the water is high up
and foamy.
He made me float. You just lie down on your
back, and he puts his hand under you.
I floated till I got some in my mouth. It's salt.
It made me feel like castor oil.
You 'd ought to see Uncle Ben float! He don't
swallow any. The water comes right over his head
and then it runs out of his nose and ears, and he
don't care a bit. He can swim.
A woman's hat came off and she squealed, and
he swam after it.
He says I can learn to swim. You just lie
right down on your face and kick and paw, and
don't get scared.
It makes your legs and arms look white in the
-water, and it looks like a big frog when you kick so
hard. I wear one of Willie's suits, and it makes
my arms long. A man called me Hello, legs "
-once. I think it is because the trousers are a little
too short. They take out their teeth to go in
Something ails my shirts, they get dirty so fast.
I tore a hole in my grey trousers; but 'most all the
boys tear holes in their trousers; and Aunt Martha
sewed it up.
Uncle Ben says there's big crabs in the sea, and
once a crab caught his toes; but he kicked, and it
let go. It did not hurt much. I aint afraid.
How is the baby? D. HARDIN.

August 20, 1874.
DEAR MOTHER: I have lots of fun. When I
get cold in the water I come out and sit on the hot
sand. Sometimes I lie down in the sand, but then
the sand sticks to my clothes and scratches.
There are little crabs in the sand. You can turn
them up with your toes. They kick awfully, and
dig right down in the sand again till you can't but
just see their backs. They have little shells, and
you can't tell which end is the head, because they
have so many legs.
There's lots of other folks down on the beach;
and a man goes round and sells newspapers. There
was a big fat woman and she had a little boy. The
boy was scared and screamed very loud, but she
pulled him right in and churned him up and down
in the water.
'Most all the babies cry when their mothers take
them in, and the women and girls squeal and say
Oh and breathe hard; but the men don't do
anything, but just walk right in. I don't do any-
thing, but just walk right in. When a big wave
comes, that is n't a breaker, you must jump up, and
the wave carries you a little ways back and sets you
on your feet, if it don't tip you over. I used to

breathe when my head got under water, but it did
not feel good, so now I don't.
I stepped on a smooth thing that wiggled, and I
got off. Uncle Ben said it was a lobster, and he
said it was worse scared than I was.
I know how to row on the lake. Willie has a
boat. I have earned six cents rowing.
I broke Willie's oar, and he cried, and I gave
him my knife and a fish-hook. It had one blade
gone. We go fishing sometimes, and have worms
and grasshoppers for bait. Aunt Martha says
worms and cookies ought not to go in a boy's
I got my shoe wet, and dried it in the oven. It
puckered up some, and I can't pull it on. I guess
it burned a little, for it smelled pretty bad. I like
to go barefoot.
The arm-hole of my coat 'most came out, but
Aunt M. fixed it in. M. stands for Martha; and
the place she sewed in my trousers came open, so
now I wear my black ones. This is thirty cents.
How is the baby ? Your boy,
P. S.-It was on the knee. I don't know what
made it come open.


September I, 1874.
DEAR MOTHER: This is four letters, which is
forty cents. I think I'll row and earn the other
ten, for Uncle Ben is going away soon. I almost
cried when the letter came. I don't want to go
home in the day-time; but sometimes Willie kicks,
and the sea makes a nawful noise in the night,
He had the toothache last night, and cried, and
kept us all awake. Aunt M. (for Martha) put on
some pepper and salt, but it ached worse. Then
she gave him some dysentery medicine, and so he
went to sleep.



When a big breaker comes, sometimes it knocks
folks over. I saw two girls; one had on a blue
dress and a blue ribbon on her hat; the other had
on a brindle dress and a shoe-string. The shoe-
string was on her hat, to tie it down.
They walked right in, but a breaker knocked
them over, and all the folks laughed. The brindle
one rolled over and over like a log, but the blue

one went endways and turned three somersaults
-I counted. The men ran and picked them up,
and they coughed and sneezed. The blue one
looked hoppin' mad, because the folks laughed;
but the brindle one laughed too.
Uncle Ben got me a new pair of shoes. I have
got a crab in a bottle of vinegar for the baby.
Your son, DICKENSON H.


BY M. D. RuFF.

THE most beautiful lady I ever saw was born
about two thousand years ago. In all that long
time she has not once turned her head nor ever
moved her lips to answer, though men and women
everywhere have been her lovers; though artists
have worshiped and poets have sung to her;
though wise men have written learned treatises and
searched mouldy records to discover her story.
She has no color in her face, nor in her eyes or
hair. One cannot say that she is blonde or bru-
nette. She stands quiet and majestic in a great
room, with a soft, unchanging, lazy smile upon her
face, reigning like a queen over many subjects, as
cold and silent and colorless as she, but far less
lovely. People who love beauty travel from all
parts of the world, far and near, to look upon her;
but from out this crowd of gazers no fairy-favored
prince has ever stepped to give her that magic kiss
which would start the blushes into the pale face
and set the fair limbs free from the sleep which has
bound them through the coming and going of
But I can beguile you no longer with this sem-
blance of an old fairy tale. My Sleeping Beauty "
will never stir; she is imprisoned in a block of de-
faced and discolored marble; my beautiful woman
is only an antique statue, miraculously preserved
for us from the days when the Greeks were masters
of the world, and of all arts and knowledge as well.
This statue has been named "Venus of Milo."
"Venus," because it is supposed to represent the
Greek goddess Venus, and "of Milo," because it
was found in a garden on the island of Melos, one
of the many islands in the Grecian Archipelago.
The garden was probably part of the pleasure-
grounds of a wealthy Greek. In the midst, on a
little hill, he built his house of marble, and from
the wide open porticoes around it on every side, he
looked abroad upon terraces, fountains, marble

pavements and statues; upon green waving fields,
long avenues of orange and lemon-trees laden with
blossoms and fruit, filling the air with sweet odor,
vines clustering on the sunny slopes, and the red
grapes. In the distance he saw the purple sea for-
ever curving and swelling around countless islands
set like jewels in its bosom; he watched the ships
dipping and rising before the light wind, stopping
at this port, then at that; here unloading, there
taking on their cargoes of sweet nuts, figs and wine.
Farther beyond still was Athens itself, and the
Acropolis shining white and sharp through the
clear, luminous atmosphere, against the blue sky.
But these rare sights passed away; invasion and
war left only a few broken shafts and columns;
the beautiful vineyards ran to waste, the fount-
ains were choked up, the statues crumbled or were
carried off by the Turks in their many incursions
into Greece and its islands. The garden lay thus
despoiled and neglected for many years, till, in
1825, the owner of a bit of it began to clear a hill-
side for the planting of a vineyard. At the foot of
the hill he chanced to strike his shovel against this
statue of a woman. It was imbedded in the earth,
and had been entirely covered up by the crumbling
and washing down of the soil above, and so had
lain concealed for hundreds of years.
It was no uncommon thing at that time for work-
men and peasants to turn up from the dark earth
vases, trinkets, bits of sculpture, and many frag-
mentary relics of those ancient Greeks who, centu-
ries before, lived and wrought so nobly here. To
the present race these tokens had no value that
could outweigh the price they would bring in the
market; they were too poor to gratify expensive
tastes, even if they had had them. Besides, they
had grown out of the old faith, and they gave no
divinity to the arms and legs and mutilated bodies
of the gods and demigods with which their fathers


crowded the earth and air and sea. Yet I am sure
the traditions of his pagan fathers must have
stirred in the soul of the man who brought back to
the light of day this matchless figure.
If he had such emotions at all, however, they
were happily so slight that he was willing to sell
the statue to Monsieur Brest, the French Consul,
who, recognizing the value of the prize, bought it
for five hundred dollars, and sent immediately for
a vessel on which it could be shipped to France.
Before this vessel arrived, the Turkish Government
heard of the unearthing of the statue and hastily
dispatched a vessel to bring it away, offering the
owner five times more than the French price.
It was not in human nature to resist this. The
Turks were given possession of the statue, and were
embarking it on their vessel when the French ship
arrived on the scene. A dispute and struggle arose,
and later accounts say that the arms of the Venus,
Which had been detached for safer transportation,
were seized by the Turks and are still in their pos-
session. The first account was that the arms were
gone when the figure was taken from the ground,
also one foot broken off and several deep scratches
about the shoulders and drapery. However this
may be, the arms are still missing, and to this day
the noble figure stands as you see in the picture.
It was placed in the Louvre, a magnificent art
gallery in Paris, and at once called forth the pro-
foundest admiration from artists and students and
savans. Each one had some theory regarding the
action of the figure, which the loss of the arms
makes it impossible to determine. Some thought
it was a Venus taking the apple designed for the
most beautiful; others, that it was Venus em-
bracing Mars; others, that it was a Venus coming
from the bath with hair unbound and gathering
her drapery around her, or Venus using a polished
shield for a mirror; while others argued that it
was no Venus, but the protecting nymph of the
island of Melos, or the figure of a Victory resting
a buckler upon her bended knee and inscribing
upon it the name of a hero.
Of the genius who created this figure nothing
certain is known, in spite of the research and
skill of students. From the manner of workman-
ship it is concluded that he came after the time
of Phidias,--whom you will hear named as the
father of Greek sculpture,-and belonged to the
later school of Lysippus, he who, pointing to the
passers-by, said to his pupils, There are your
teachers." But when the Greeks themselves had
such questions of doubtful authorship to settle they
said that the statue fell from heaven; and we may
be content to decide this question in the same way.
The man who lived and died two thousand years
ago is not likely to contradict us to-day.

But the adventures and perils of our fair lady are
not yet over. During the late war between France
and Germany, when Paris was besieged, and the
shells were whizzing and flying over the walls, when
women gathered their babies in their arms and ran


shivering through the streets seeking safety, when
strong men filled the air with shrieks and groans of
death, then this lifeless, defaced statue was remem-
bered and protected. It was put into an oaken
chest, padded and cushioned, and at night a body
of tried and faithful men bore it to a secret place in
an underground cellar, known only to themselves.
I have read furthermore that it was placed in a



niche in an inner wall and built closely around with
plaster and cement, so as to be not only safe from
German shells, but hidden from German eyes and
hands; for they would not have lost much time in
bearing away the lovely figure to enrich their own
capital of Berlin.
I like to think of these brave Frenchmen, so de-
voted and true to art. I believe they would have
laid down their lives in this cause, knowing that
France had many other brave men to fill their
places, but that in all the world there could never
again be such a work as this lovely Lady of
She lay in the dark and damp, through all the
rack and ruin of those fearful summer days; she
escaped the bursting shells and the communists'
fires, and when the danger was past and men's
thoughts turned again toward beauty and grace
she was replaced in the Louvre, and stands there
now as serene and gracious as ever, the most per-
fect type of that pure Greek art which all the world
studies, but cannot reproduce.
Do you wonder why? It would make a very
long story to give you all the reasons. But one
great reason is that our artists and sculptors de-
spair of finding any living models, either of men or
women, so noble and natural and simple as those
which the Greeks saw around them everywhere.:
For they made it the business of their lives to grow
sleek and blooming; from beautiful children to
beautiful men and women, and so on to a happy,
vigorous old age.
In that olden time a child was taught to read,
write and cipher; to play the lyre and chant the
national odes, celebrating brave deeds and great
victories; to wrestle and to perform all other bodily
exercises." Youths and maidens went daily to the
gymnasium, and there were practiced in running,
leaping, throwing the lance and discus, and in
every other exercise which could make them strong,
healthy and agile. Then the wise were strong

and the learned beautiful. There were no narrow
chests and stooped shoulders; no pale faces and
blinking eyes from desk and study and school-
room; no warped muscles from work-bench and
loom. Artisans, philosophers, poets, rich and
poor, went alike through a daily course of training,
ate sparingly, and lived through all seasons in the
open air. For there is no winter in this land.
Evergreen oaks, the olive, the lemon, the orange
and cypress form in the valleys and on the hillsides
an eternal summer landscape; they even extend
down to the margin of the sea, and in February, at
certain places, oranges drop from their stems and
fall into the water." In this mild and balmy at-
mosphere they required scant clothing and light
diet. They had neither cold nor heat to guard
against; the kindly fruits of the earth were all they
needed to keep them in health and courage.
Now look carefully at the picture of the Venus,
always remembering that it is a copy from a plaster
cast, a copy of a copy, and therefore imperfect. It
will serve only to introduce you to the statue; then
if you are in New York, Philadelphia or Boston, go
to the Academy of Fine Arts and see the life-size
cast. You will hardly like it at first, but look more
than once ; study it; insist upon liking it; for by
your admiration of this you may measure your
power to appreciate any other work of true art.
Venus stands, you see, simply and easily, without
affectation or weariness. If she could come out of
that marble stillness and walk across the room you
would know what is meant by the "poetry of
motion." I saw it the other day in an Indian
woman. She was wrapped close in a dingy, dirty
red blanket, and her face showed nothing but
brutal, low instincts, but she walked through the
staring crowds on the streets with such dignity and
directness, such an erect and pliant figure, such a
full and perfect play of muscles that I said to my-
self, So the Venus of Milo would walk if she were
wakened from her long sleep in the marble."

VOL. II.-4.




OF the tribe of animals to which the strange
creature represented in the accompanying illustra-
tions belongs, none have traveled so far or seen so
much of the great world as this particular one,

rabbit and the pig. It has a long, irregular head;
short limbs, ending in large flat feet; a tail, in
which the whole bulk of the animal tapers gradually
to a point; and enormous claws.

saSb,- -''~ -~ ~ 'civil
~fr .~i
-' 5 -


whose portrait was taken for ST. NICHOLAS while Along the wide stretches of sand in Africa aire
it was on a temporary visit to Central Park. to be seen great mounds, very similar in shape and
Even the great Zoological Garden in London, appearance to the huts of the.black men, but much
which forms the largest collection of living animals more strongly built, consisting of mud which has
in the world, does not contain a specimen. In fact, hardened almost into stone in the heat of the sun.
it is very difficult to capture this animal alive, as it These buildings, which are far superior to the
is extremely timid and wary, and with its great houses constructed by the human beings who peo-
claws can burrow out of sight in a few minutes. Its ple the country, are erected by small insects called
home is in Africa, and its name Aard-vark, which termites, or white ants, and are, in proportion to
means earth-pig. At first sight, its singular form their builders, larger than any edifice ever con-
seems a sort of compromise between that of the structed by man.



In this region, as evening advances, numerous
stealthy creatures, never seen by day, creep forth
from their hiding-places in the jungle in search of
food, and among them are the Aard-varks; their
long snouts projected in every direc-
tion, their brilliant black eyes wide
,open and their great ears thrown
forward on the alert. -.
If the coast is clear, an animal of

sleep rolled up in the shape of a ball. But the
Aard-vark, in endeavoring to follow so laudable a
custom, only succeeds in standing on the top of its
head, in which position it seems to sleep very coin-

this kind-perhaps a mamma, fol- .
lowed by a couple of the queerest 4 .' .I
little babies imaginable-makes her .. L
way up to the nearest ant-hill, and, '.'
sitting upon her haunches, tears it'
to pieces without loss of time, break- '" "
ing up the stony walls with perfect 7, .-
,ease, and bringing dismay and death .... -
to the inmates, to whom, instead of "" ''' ...-
the timid creature she appears to: --i-
us, she is a terrible, devouring mon-' .. ----_'
ster. So rapidly does she sweep -
the insects into her mouth by the '-
swift movement of her long tongue,
which is covered with a thick, sticky
substance to which the ants adhere, ts s.----_-:-'
that soon, of all the bewildered .-....- :-
multitude which filled that great -
mound, not one is left to behold and --
mourn over the destruction of its ...- --
little world. --
There are animals closely related THE AARD-VARK ASLEEP.
-to the Aard-vark, which are covered
with large horny scales instead of hair; and which, fortably-so comfortably, indeed, that it afforded,
besides indulging in other strange habits, generally as you see, a capital chance for a second portrait.



ALL at once, right in the middle of the night,
Martha wakened wide up. And no wonder, for
the bed-clothes were drawn up over her face so that
she could hardly breathe. She threw her arm over
,on Lucy's pillow, but instead of the curly head
there was only a big round ball, made by that same
,curly head having the covering all tightly pulled
up over and drawn down under it. The instant
1Martha's hand touched the big round ball, it
shrieked out, 0 0 as if somebody had taken
it for a foot-ball and given it a kick.
Then Martha sat up and commenced vigorously
pulling the sheet and counterpane away from the

little clinging hands that were holding them down
so tightly, exclaiming as she tugged and pulled :
Why, Lucy, what is the matter? What have
you got your head all rolled up this way for ? You
almost smothered us !"
"0 Martha!" piped the little girl's trembling
voice, as she cuddled closer to her sister, I am so
glad you're awake. But don't speak so loud;
there 's something in the room !" And down went
the little head under the covers again, and the little
hands, by this time clinging around Martha's neck,
pulled her head under too, while Lucy continued
in an awful whisper :


I thought, when I felt your hand, that it had
flopped right down on my head, and I did n't know
but that I was going to die right straight off, with-
out ever bidding anybody good-by, and, oh I had
such dreadful thoughts, all in a flash."
Why, Lucy, child," said Martha (Martha was
eleven years old, and Lucy was ten), you have
been having bad dreams. Why didn't you call me?"
"I was afraid it would hear," she whispered
back. Please, Martha, don't speak so loud. In-
deed there is something in the room."
Of course," said Martha, sitting up in bed
again and speaking louder than ever, of course,
we are here."
"Oh, don't, Martha; do lie down," entreated
poor Lucy, almost beside herself with terror. "I've
been watching it ever so long, and it gets bigger
and bigger. It's just down there in the corner of
the room, near the foot of the bed."
Where ? said Martha, anxiously, opening her
eyes wide and straining them hard to see in the
faint moonlight.
" Down there; I dare n't look again. Last time
it seemed like it nodded to me and got nearer this
"Lucy Brown, I don't see one single solitary
thing that I have n't seen a hundred times before,"
said Martha, in loud emphatic tones. And her
voice was so hearty, and her manner so fearless, that
Lucy herself began to feel differently and less afraid
of the terrible something, which she somehow still
thought must be there, and which it seemed very
strange to her that Martha could not see.
Once more she whispered, half interrogatively:
Something tall and dark, with a white head,"
and then, in a sudden burst of confidence, 0
Martha, I think-I thought-I did n't know, but
may be it was a ghost."

"Ha, ha, ha! laughed Martha, loud enough
and merrily enough to have made a ghost itself
laugh, if there ever could possibly be such a thing,
but as there was not, nor could not be, the laugh
did some good, anyway, as every honest and merry
laugh always does.
It put to rout Lucy's shadowy fears, and brought
her sitting bolt upright in bed, but not by the side
of Martha, for that merry little girl was flitting
around the room, touching first one object and
then another, shouting out, "Am I hot or cold ? "
in a vain attempt to find the ghost.
Lucy actually laughed aloud at this new way and
time for playing "hot butter-beans please to come
to supper," and it was not long after that that she
grew so bold as to herself run up to the ghost and
take off its white head, which, after all, was nothing
but her own little white sailor-waist hanging upon
the high back of an arm-chair. So that put an end
to the ghost. But a new fear rose-Martha would
tell the boys," and she 'd "never hear the last
of it."
But Martha promised she would do no such
dreadful thing; so Lucy in turn was very ready to
promise that she would never be ,so foolish again,
and to declare she knew that there were no such
things as ghosts, and that if there were, they
could n't possibly want anything from her, and that
the very next time and every time she was fright-
ened she would not wait a minute, nor half of a
minute, but march right up and see what it was.
And she always has kept her promise. To this
day she has never found a ghost,-for a very good
reason, which I am sure you will think of,-nor
has she ever found a trouble of any kind .that did
not either disappear altogether or grow considerably
smaller when she marched right up to it" and
saw what it really was.



THE favorite playthings among East Indian girls
are their dolls, which, although very different from
any dolls made or sold in our country, are very
precious to their owners. The East Indian dolls are
made of light wood, painted in various colors, and
they all look like our picture, varying only in size;
the smallest is six inches, the largest two or three
feet high. They are not jointed, and their little

Indian mothers cannot dress and undress them, or
have the fun of making their clothes. The only
thing that will come off" is the head, which is.
secured by a peg fitting into a hole in the body.
The feet are firmly fastened to a wooden stand and
to the solid body of the doll.
Perhaps some of you children may like to make
these East Indian dollies as curious Christmas gifts
for your young friends. It will not be difficult to



get some one, with this picture at hand for a model,
to cut the form for you out of soft wood, if you
cannot do it yourselves; and for the rest you have
only to paint the forms with bright colors (as I
shall describe) and to gum on a bit of gilt paper
carefully here and there, according to directions.
The baby, or smallest doll,
has a yellow dress, spotted
with black, trimmed with a
blue belt with white spots,
and bands of red spotted with
white around the neck and
sleeves. The border of the
.' baby's skirt consists of a nar-
row blue band spotted with
I f white, and edged with yel-
c'.^& j low-grey, marked by a few
black lines.
The big doll has heeled
shoes striped with black, blue
anklets spotted with white.
S' -'. and wears a solid, beautiful
ii' crimson skirt, ornamented by
'i golden stripes and short bars.
1i^ ^^ The curving line and leaf-
: 'l' ,I pattern in front is also gold.
On each side of this are two
stripes of dark blue spotted
with white; the border of the
skirt is the same-blue with
THE DOLL. white spots; the bodice and
part of the sleeves are of a
dull yellow-grey-the same color as the baby's
skirt-border and the doll's shoes and legs. The
upper part of the dress is dark blue, ornamented
with yellow dots, arranged like stars, and trimmed
with bands of white spots on red. Her bracelets
(for, like the women of India, she wears many) are
crimson and gold. The tall head-dress is painted
yellow with black stripes, or blue with white dots,
and red. Her front hair is ornamented with a gold
band, also trimmed with white spots. The long
black hair hangs from the back of her head in one
long, tapering braid. This is painted on and extends
below the waist, which is dotted with white spots
arranged differently in groups in the center and in
a line at each side of the braid. The face is very
peculiar, as you see. The ears are crimson and

WHETHER fair, whether foul,
Be it wet or dry,
Cloudy-time or shiny-time,
The sun 's in the sky.

gold ; the eyes, eyebrows, eyelashes and the orna-
ment at the side of her nose is black ; not only are
her lips red, but the tip of her nose and one of the
spots between the eyebrows; the other spot is
green. One more green spot on her pointed chin
completes her toilet.

The favorite plaything among the boys is the
elephant, made of all sizes, and looking very
much like the animals that stand on our toy-shop
shelves. The boys play feeding their elephants
with rice, etc., and giving them pails of water, just
as regularly as some girls sing their dolls to sleep
and put them to bed. The cow is a very funny
toy, and comes next to the elephant in popularity.

All the real cows in India are white; but the toy
cows are usually crimson and gold, and dotted
with yellow-with blue stripes, dotted with white.
The feet and tail are dashed with black, like the
eyes and nose. The ears can be taken off, for they
have little pegs that fit in a hole in the cow's head.
In both these toys the colors are so arranged that
the whole effect is pleasing. You can learn from
these playthings, almost as well as from a thousand-
dollar shawl, the Oriental rule for color, which is:
Always separate different colors by lines of white,
or black, or gold.

Gloomy night, sparkle night,
Be it glad or dread,
Cloudy-time or shiny-time,
Stars are overhead.


IjrI* .
(iI IL IP 7,' -

,.I -

'5 1 ~ i' :"',

ji .1 .. L i.

HERE we are again, dear young folks, and this
time on the very threshold of a new volume.
Good! We shall be old friends soon. Meantime,
it's the same old Jack who speaks to you, though
the editors say they 've a better picture of me this
time than they had before. Well, well-whether
it's the born, living image of me or not, I'll say
this: I'm your own faithful, loving, Jack-in-the-
Pulpit,-in rain or shine, yours to command, and
may we honor and help one another to the end !
What shall we begin with to-day ? Ah I know:

little bird who told me said he was sure Mr. Trow-
bridge would n't be willing to have it mentioned,
but I can't help that. He had no business to do it,
then. Besides, the boys and girls will forgive him,

was sixty feet deep and the current fearfully strong.
Men and boys stood at a safe distance looking on ;
but what could they do ? The ice would n't hold,
and there were no boats at hand. Trowbridge-
"Jack Hazard" Trowbridge-heard the boy's ter-
rified screams, and ran to the spot. He saw the
little head bob under, saw it come up again, heard
one shriek from the poor boy, and that was enough.
With a couple of light boards torn from an old
fence, he went out after him. But the ice was
so thin that it sank beneath him, boards and all.
The crowd shouted to him to come back; and he
But he brought the boy with him, safe and sound,
and then went home and put on dry clothes.
The Massachusetts Humane Society awarded Mr.
Trowbridge a large silver medal for this brave act;
but, though he no doubt appreciated their motives

in doing him this honor, I'll warrant you the sight
of that rosy little chap, running about alive and
well, was worth more to him than all the medals in
the world.
THE pretty schoolmistress, in talking to the
deacon the other day in our meadow, looked up at
the cloudy sky and quoted a verse of poetry-some-
thing about something
--from scale to scale,
Mounting amidst the Torricellian tube."
Now, what did she mean, my children ? What
is a Torricellian tube, and how did any tube ever
get such a name as that ?

DID ever you hear of such a tree ? I have, for
the birds tell me everything.
The whistling-tree is found in Africa. It is a.
strange-looking object, with branches white as.
chalk. It has long thorns, the inside of which is
the favorite home of some tiny insect. When this.
creature crawls out to see the world, he of course
leaves the door open behind him-that is to say, a.
small hole, through which he crawled. Now, the
wind blowing through the tree when the leaves are
off, makes a musical noise in these hollow thorns,
so that it sometimes sounds like thousands of flutes
playing at once. The natives call it the whistling-
We've a whistling-tree in our meadow, but it.
is n't of the African kind. It bears boys, with
cheeks as red as peaches. I 've heard half-a-dozen
of them whistling in it at a time. And they come
down out of it with their hats full of wild cherries.

TO-NIGHT I counted five sorts of gourds that
I've heard about. Mock-oranges, bottle-gourds (a
sort that is turned to many useful purposes, and
that you country children like to use for play-
things), summer and winter squashes, and pump-
kins. Did you ever think when you were tasting
a nice baked squash or delicious pumpkin pie, that
squashes and pumpkins were a sort of gourd?

THE pretty schoolmistress stopped by the stump-
and read a very wonderful thing, one fine day in
July, to the children who were going with her to.
look for cresses at the brook-so wonderful that
I 'm going to ask the editors to get the same maga-
zine and copy the story out for you. The story
was told by Professor Silliman, and it came to him
in a private letter from a friend. This friend was.
part owner of some property on the Oregon coast
containing a saw-mill which had never been set
fairly at work. Close by was a dwelling-house for
the hands, and when they cleared out for lack of
work, a quantity of things were stored there-tools,
packing for the engine, six or seven kegs of large
spikes, besides, knives, forks, spoons, etc., in the



closets, and a great stove in one of the rooms.
(Now the editors will please add the rest of the
story; and you, my dears, will please bear in mind
that the writer is talking about the California wood-
rat) :
"This house," he says, "was left uninhabited for two years, and
being at some distance from the little settlement, it was frequently
broken into by tramps who sought a shelter for the night. When I
entered this house I was astonished to see an immense rat's nest on
the empty stove. On examining this nest, which was about five feet
in height, and occupied the whole top of the stove (a large range), I
found the outside to be composed entirely of spikes, all laid with sym-
metry so as to present the points of the nails outward. In the center
of this mass was the nest, composed of finely-divided fibers of the
hemp packing. Interlaced with the spikes, we found the following:
About three dozen knives, forks and spoons; all the butcher-knives,
three in number; a large carving-knife, fork and steel; several large
plugs of tobacco; the outside casing of a silver watch, disposed
of in one part of the pile, the glass of the same watch in another,
and the works in still another; an old purse containing some silver,
matches and tobacco; nearly all the small tools from the tool-closets,
among them several large augers. Altogether, it was a very curious
mixture of different articles, all of which must have been transported
some distance, as they were originally stored in different parts of the
"The ingenuity and skill displayed in the construction of this nest,
and the curious taste for articles of iron, many of them heavy, for
component parts, struck me with surprise. The articles of value
were, I think, stolen from the men who had broken into the house for
temporary lodging. I have preserved a sketch of this iron-clad nest,
which I think unique in natural history."

WHAT'S this the bees are buzzing about? It
can't be true, and yet if my senses did n't deceive
me, I heard one of them telling it to the clover
this very morning. It was quite lost on the clover.
He ought to have told it to the Ethiopian Calla in
the garden. She would have appreciated it. The
fact is, there's a rumor that the great African
desert of Sahara is about to be turned into an
ocean-that is, not right away, but as soon as mat-
ters can be settled in regard to it. I don't know
exactly why they want to do this, but there's some
good reason for it, you may depend. The French
engineers have been holding counsel on the matter,
and they say the thing can be done.
Just look into this business, my dears. Ask your
fathers and mothers about it. Such things don't
happen every day.

IT could n't do it, I tell you," said the man.
He and his companion had been walking briskly
across my meadow; now they paused directly in
front of me.
But, my dear fellow," said the other, raising
his voice, I ought to know, for it sprang at me-
don't you understand ?"
"Yes, yes," answered the "dear fellow," "and
so I should hardly blame you, my boy, if you
thought the creature leaped sixty feet in the air
and came down like a rocket-stick; but, you see,
the thing's impossible; a rattlesnake never springs
further than the length of its own body-you may
bet your life on it. The end of the tail acts as a
sort of pivot. They lie curled up like a spring,
with head raised from the center. When the head
shoots forward to strike, it goes exactly as far as
the snake's length-no further. I 've seen 'em
dozens of times, and poked at 'em with a pole from

a safe distance. When they're not disturbed, they
lie in the sun, limp and amiable as you please;
but just touch them, and presto comes the rattle,
the warning and the spring, before you can say
Jack Rob--"
Ned," said the other, shaking his head as they
passed on, that 's-all true enough, but I tell you
the fellow sprang more than twice his own length
when he made for me."
"All right," laughed Ned, silenced but not con-
vinced, "and I'll warrant you sprang six times
your own length."
Now, setting good manners aside, which of these
two was right ?
A TRAVELED bird has told me about the Jinnee
of Eastern mythology. It is a sort of genius, or
demon, or sprite, among the Mohammedans, and it
is said to have a transparent body, and to possess the
power of assuming various forms.
Not a very pleasant individual to have around, I
should say; and yet, now I think of it, it seems to
me that we have something very like the Jinnee in
this country. It gets into boys and girls some-
times, and puts on all sorts of shapes. It has
various names, I understand, such as Affectation,
Humbug, Hypocrisy, etc., and people always can
see through it. Dear me! I don't like to think of
this Mohammedan myth being so near home.
Let's get rid of it Let's scatter its thin body to
the four winds Let's all draw a good, honest
breath, and blow it higher than a kite!

THE other day, the minister came through the
meadow. Of course his wife was with him, for they
take a walk together every day. Nearly always, as
I have already told the children, they sit down to
rest on the big stump at the left, and then he gen-
erally reads her something. This time he took out
a little scrap of printed paper, and after putting on
his glasses, said:
Here's an extract from a letter, Sarah, that I
thought would please you. It was written by Dr.
Channing in his old age to a dear friend in Eng-
land-and, do you know, it quite reconciles me to
growing old ? "
Read it, dear," said Mrs. Sarah.
And he read:
I rejoice with you in your improved health and spirits. Both of us,
I suppose, are doomed to find the body more or less a burden to the
end of our journey. But I repine not at the doom. What remains to
me of strength becomes more precious for what is lost. I have lost
one ear, but was never so alive to sweet sounds as now. My sight is
so far impaired that the brightness in which nature was revealed to
me in my youth is dimmed, but I never looked on nature with such
pure joy as now. My limbs soon tire, but I never felt it such a priv-
ilege to move about in the open air, under the sky, in sight of the
infinity of creation, as at this moment. I almost think that my simple
food, eaten by rule, was never relished so well. I am grateful, then,
..-. t. ., .-.-. 1:. though it does creak and shake not a little.
I, i. i-.. which I have of looking at what is interest-
ing and great in human nature has no small influence in brightening
my life.
The sun was setting as the minister put up the
paper; so, nodding cheerily to his wife, he pro-
posed that they should move on."


(A arranged for parlorr representation by G. B. BARTLETT.)

Four tableaux vivants and two pantomimic scenes accompany the
reading of the piece by a concealed person.
THE IISTRESS, in neat and tasteful home-dress.
KITTY, calico skirt, rather short; loose, short sacque; sleeves rolled
up to elbow; very large, heavy shoes; apron.
FING WING, short full trousers, white stockings, black short frock,
very long cue, face stained with ochre, long pointed pasteboard
toes sewed on to slippers. His finger-nails can be lengthened by
means of tinted tissue paper pasted on.
GROCER'S BOY, straw hat, trousers rolled up slightly, vest and shirt-
Table, three chairs, clothes in basket, table-cloth, ironing blanket,
irons-holder, market-basket, three paper packages, brown paper,
box, pan, mop, dish of apples, knife, two trays, and a quantity
of cracked and broken china for the "crash" in scene ii.
(R stands for right side; L for left side.)
Och! don't be talking Is it howld on, ye say? An'
didn't I howld on till the heart of me was clane broke
entirely, and me wastin' that thin you could clutch me
wid yer two hands. To think o' me toilin' like a nager
for the six year I 've been in Ameriky-bad luck to the

I /

o' them! (faix an' I'll sit down when I 'm ready, so I
will, Ann Ryan, an' ye 'd better be listening' than draw-
in' your remarks) an' is it mysel', with five good char-
a'ters from respectableplaces, would be herdin' wid the
haythens ? The saints forgive me, but I 'd be buried
alive sooner'n put up wid it a day longer. Sure an' I
was the granehorn not to be lavin' at onct when the
missus kim into me kitchen wid her perlaver about the
new waiter man which was brought out from Californy.
" He'11 be here the night," says she, and Kitty, it's
meself looks to you to be kind and patient wid him, for
he's a furriner," says she, a kind o' looking' off. Sure
an it 's little I '11 hinder nor interfere wid him nor any

other, mum," says, I, a kind o' stiff, for I minded me
how these French waiters, wid their paper collars and
brass rings on their fingers, is n't company for no gurril
brought up dacint and honest. Och! sorra bit I knew
what was coming' till the missus walked into me kitchen
smilin', and says, kind o' sheared, Here 's Fing Wing,
Kitty, an' you'll have too much sinse to mind his bein'
a little strange." Wid that she shoots the doore, and I,
misthrusting if I was tidied up sufficient for me fine buy
wid his paper collar, looks up and-Howly fathers may
I niver brathe another breath, but there stud a rale hay-
then Chineser a-grinnin' like he'd just come off a tay-
box. If you '11 belave me, the crayture was that yeller
it 'ud sicken you to see him; and sorra stitch was on
him but a black night-gown over his trousers and the
front of his head shaved claner nor a copper biler, and a
black tail a-hanging down from it behind, wid his two
feet stook into the heathenestest shoes you ever set eyes
on. Och but I was upstairs afore you could turn
about, a-givin' the missus warning an' only stopt wid
her by her raisin' me wages two dollars, and playdin'
wid me how it was a Christian's duty to bear wid hay-
thins and taitch 'em all in our power-the saints save
us Well, the ways and trials I had wid that Chineser.
Ann Ryan, I could n't be tellin'. Not a blissed thing
cud I do but he 'd be looking' on wid his eyes cocked up-
'ard like two poomp-handles, an' he widdout a speck or
smitch o' whishkers on him, an' his finger-nails full a
yard long. But it's dyin' you'd be to see the missus
a-larnin' him, an' he grinnin' an' waggin' his pig-tail
(which was pieced out long wid some black stoof, the
haythen chate!) and getting' into her ways wonderful
quick, I don't deny, imitatin' that sharp, you 'd be shur-
prised, and ketchin' an' copyin' things the best of us
will do a-hurried wid work, yet don't want coming' to the
knowledge of the family-bad luck to him !
Is it ate wid him ? Arrah, an' would I be sitting' wid
a haythen an' he a-atin' wid drum-sticks-yes, an' atin'
dogs an' cats unknownst to me, I warrant you, which it
is the custom of them Chinesers, till the thought made
me that sick I cud die. An' did n't the crayture proffer
to help me a wake ago come Toosday, an' me a-foldin'
down me clane clothes for the ironin', an' fill his haythen
mouth wid water, an' afore I could hinder squirrit it
through his teeth street over the best linen table-cloth,
and fold it up tight as innercent now as a baby, the dir-
rity baste But the worrest of all was the copyin' he'd
be doin' till ye 'd be distracted. It's yersel' knows
the tinder feet that 's on me since ever I've bin in this
country. Well, owin' to that, I fell into a way o' slip-
pin' my shoes off when I 'd be setting' down to pale the
praities or the likes o' that, and, do ye mind! that hay-
thin would do the same thing after me whinivir the mis-
sus set him to parin' apples or tomaterses. The saints
in heaven could n't have made him belave he cud kape
the shoes on him when he 'd be paylin' anything.
Did I lave fur that? Faix an' I did n't. Did n't he
get me into trouble wid my missus, the haythin ?
You're aware yersel' how the boondles coming' in from
the grocery often contains more 'n '11 go into anything
dacently. So, for that matter I 'd now and then take
out a sup o' sugar, or flour, or tay, an' wrap it in paper
and put it in me bit of a box tucked under the ironin'
blankit the how it cuddent be bodderin' any one. Well,
what shud it be, but this blessed Sathurday morn the
missus was a-spakin' pleasant and respec'ful wid me in
me kitchen when the grocer boy comes in an' stands

"Originally published in "Etchings" in Scribner's Monthly for January, 1871.



fornenst her wid his boondles, an' she motions like to
Fing Wing (which I never would call him by that name
ner any other but just haythin), she motions to him, she
does, for to take the boondles an' empty out the sugar
an' what not where they belongs. If you '11 belave me,
Ann Ryan, what did that blatherin' Chineser do but take
out a sup o' sugar, an' a handful o' tay, an' a bit o' chaze
right afore the missus, wrap them into bits o' paper, an'
I spacheless wid surprise, an' he the next minute up.
wid the ironin' blankit and pullin' out me box wid a
show o' being' sly to put them in. Och, the Lord forgive
me, but I clutched it, and the missus sayin', O0 Kitty! "
in a way that 'ud cruddle your blood. He 's a hay-
thin nager," says I. I've found you out," says she.
"I 'll arrist him," says I. "It's you ought to be ar-
risted," says she. "You wont," says I. I will," says
she-and so it went till she gave me such sass as I cud-
dent take from no lady-an' I give her warning' an' left
that instant, an' she a-pointin' to the doore.
As the concealed person who reads the above, aloud, goes on with-
out interruption, each scene must be arranged in time to allow the
curtain to rise and fall at the words designated. Of course, these
scenes may be varied according to the wit and discretion of the actors
as far as the allowed time will permit; but the following directions,
after having been practically tested, are offered as a guide.

SCENE I. (tableau vivant) opens at "Here 's Wing,
Kity/ Mistress stands at center pointing out Fing .- ,..c (R) to
Kitty, who is washing dishes at table (L). She holds up her hands in
horror. Closes at Set eyes on."
SCENE II. opens at JIltating that shari." Kitty enters at L
with a trayful of crockery, Fing Wing following at a short distance
behind, laden in the same manner. He imitates her gait as nearly as
lie can, and when she stumbles and drops her china, he does the
same immediately. Closes at "Bad luck to him."
SCENE III. opens at "And didn't the crayture offei to heldp."
Fing Wing at the ironing-table (E), folding down the table-cloths
"as innocent as a baby." Kitty (L) is watching him with intense
SCENE IV. opens at Tinder feet." Fing Wing sits on table
center peeling apples, his feet, from which he has taken off his shoes,
are in a chair in front of him. Closes at "Paylin' anything."
SCENE V. opens at Saturday morning. The mistress stands at
center, Kitty at L, with broom; and the action must be in unison
with the reading. Enter Grocer's Boy with basket (R). Fing Wing
enters (L). At a motion from the mistress he takes basket from the
boy, carries it to table (L of center), and, taking a little very cautiously
from each paper, wraps up the groceries, which he slyly conceals
under the blanket after filling the bit of a box with them. Kitty
seizes the box; a struggle ensues, which the mistress interrupts;
both gesticulate according to the text. Then the mistress points to
the door, through which Kitty, after hurriedly and angrily making
up her bundles, and seizing her bonnet from a peg and putting it
on, marches out with great dignity. Fing Wing stands (L) in attitude
of triumph, with his arms and hands outspread, as the curtain falls.


DR. HOLLAND'S beautiful lullaby, in this number of ST. NICHOLAS,
is printed with the author's permission from the advance sheets of
his new book, The Mistress of the Manse," soon to be published by
Scribner, Armstrong & Co., of New York.

ORIOLE."-You and all other young folks are welcome to write
to the Letter-Box, whether subscribing to ST. NICHOLAS or not. We
look upon every boy and girl who can read English, or look at a pict-
ure, as belonging in some way to ST. NICHOLAS. Yes, you may
join the army of Bird-defenders, too, provided you are resolved to
keep the requisite pledge, even though you never expect to buy a
copy of the magazine.
As for printing your letters, that is another thing. One entire
number of the magazine scarcely would hold half the letters that come
to us every month. We therefore must, as far as practicable, select
those of the most general interest; but we make no distinction be-
tween the writers who subscribe and those who do not.

Mi. C. P.-Your "Return of Spring" mightbe worse, and it might
be very much better, without making it specially conspicuous as a
poetical production. The Heir at Law" was written by Coleman.
The History of England is Macaulay's only large historical work.

New York,.August 18, 1874.
TO THE EDITOR OF ST. NICHOLAS: Over the signature of "Alde-
baran," in the September ST. NICHOLAS, I find a very clear and
complete description of diamond puzzles. But "Aldebaran" errs a
little in crediting. His second example was not invented by Er-
nestus," but is after the manner of "diamonds" that were in use
1bng before Ernestus" even thought of that career in which he sub-
sequently won so many admiring disciples. The puzzle in question
was sent to a contemporary publication, more as a protest against the
then prevalent (but incorrect, and what "Aldebaran" calls the simple)
way of making "'diamonds" than as any new or original idea.
"Aldebaran's" third way is original with an equally well-known
puzzler, Rusticus," a friend of Emestus."
The fourth and best style, the double-reversible ("Aldebaran's"
*own), is certainly very unique and ingenious.
May I ask the pleasure of his acquaintance. And also may I
make your handsome and interesting magazine the medium of re-link-
ing the broken chain of past friendships with all my old puzzle-
friends ? Please say yes.
With many cordial wishes for ST. NICHOLAS' welfare,-I remain,
yours sincerely, COLLEGE."

LEO C. B.-The novels of which you speak are popular; but in
reply to your inquiry whether or not they are good for a boy of four-
teen to read, we answer, they are not. Their humor is not refined,
and their atmosphere throughout is feverish. You will be glad to
find a story by C. A. Stephens, running through this and the Decem-
ber number of ST. NICHOLAS.

N. P., who may or may not be bribed by an association of doctors
and dentists, sends the following recipe for making sugar-candy. His
excuse is that the result of trying it will be a candy far better, purer,
cheaper and healthier than that which is often purchased in the stores.
Our excuse is that it may afford the boys and girls a candy-making
frolic or two on winter evenings, and enable them practically to taste
the satisfaction of doing something for themselves.
SUGAR-CANDY.-One and a-half cups granulated sugar, one cup of
water, tea-spoonful of vinegar. Boil gently over a steady fire, without
stirring, removing the scum which rises. Try it in a cup of cold water
to see if it becomes brittle as it cools. When this occurs remove it
from the fire, add the juice of lemon, or any essence to flavor it, and
pour into buttered pans to cool. Stick into the candy while cooling
English walnuts, neatly taken from their shell. Roasted raisins, or the
meat of any kind of nut may be used instead of the English walnuts.
The candy can be pulled if desired. If stirred while boiling it will
harden into sugar, like the frosting of cake.

LULU CONRAD and others, who ask questions concerning Mr.
Trowbridge, and "want to know just how he looks," will be glad to
learn that Scribner's .Monthly for November contains a portrait of
their favorite, and a brief account of his life up to the present day.
To-day, as you all know, Mr. Trowbridge is writing a grand new
serial for you, to begin in the January number, while Miss Alcott is
as busily writing a beautiful serial story, which will also begin with
the new year.

HARRY D- .-" Who shall decide when doctors disagree ?"
Here are various replies to your query in our September Letter-Box:
DEAR EDITOR: In answer to Harry D- 's question, I send the
following, which I have copied from a book of Anecdotes, compiled
by Henry Hupfield:
Foolscaf.-The origin of this term, as applied to a certain size of


writing-paper, came about in this way: When Oliver Cromwell be-
came Protector he caused the stamp of the 'Cap of Liberty' to be
placed upon the paper used by the Government. Soon after the res-
toration of Charles II., he-the king-had occasion to write certain
dispatches, and some of the Government paper was brought to him.
On looking at it and discovering the stamp, he said, Take it away;
I '11 have nothing to do with a fool's cap.' "
I have often observed on a certain kind of foolscap a head crowned
with a "liberty cap," and I think that probably it is much like the
one mentioned here. H. C.
Cambridge, September 5, 1874.
DEAR EDITOR OF THE ST. NICHOLAS : Harry D. wanted to know
the meaning and origin of the term Foolscap Paper." I think I
can tedl him.
In Queen Anne's reign, certain duties were imposed on all imported
paper. Among the various kinds was mentioned the Genoa "fools-
cap." The word is a corruption of the Italian foglio cafo, ..
full-sized sheet of paper. Foglio (leaf) is from the Latin.
appears in the French as feuille. My information is taken from
Graham's Book about Words." ALICE M. W.
substantially the same answer to Harry.
EDITOR ST. NICHOLAS: In a very useful book called "Fireside
Philosophy may be found the following:
It is said that the term Foolscap is derived from the fact that
Charles I. granted to certain parties a monopoly of the manufacture
of paper, and every sheet bore in water-mark the royal arms. But
the Parliament under Cromwell made jests of this in every conceivable
manner, and ordered the royal arms to be removed from the paper and
the fool's cap and bells substituted. Of course these were removed
after the Restoration; but paper of the size of the Parliament journals
always retained the name of 'foolscap.' "-Yours,
Toledo, 0., August 25, 1874. HENRY SHERRING.

with Henry Sherring; and LOUISE F. OLMSTEAD explains that the
water-mark in paper is produced by wires bent into the shape of the
required letter or device, and secured to the surface of the mould."
Now who can tell why it is called a water mark?

"NI5nPo."-Yes, the publishers of ST. NICHOLAS will put your
name on their Roll of Honor, if you send them subscribers. They
consider every boy and girl who helps ST. NICHOLAS now, in the
early part of its existence, as one of the Founders of the Magazine."

HIGH-SCHOOL GIRLS: Bertie L. and Louise L. S., M. A. F. and
others who ask for a good piece to speak in school."-How will this
true story by J. Bellamy answer your purpose ? We find it in Shel-
don's Fourth Reader:
A man once built a light-house,
And he built it on a rock,
And he boasted it should bear unscathed
The storm's severest shock ;
Of engineers I'll be," quoth he,
The proudest and the first;
There stands my work, and it shall stand-
The waves may do their worst."
And stand it did, amid the sea,
Amid the shifting sand;
A fairer work to look upon
Ne'er came from mortal hand.
Forth went the word the winds arose,
The waves came thundering on,
At sundown it was standing-
The day broke-it was gone !
Another engineer then came,
A wiser, humbler man,
One who revered his Maker's word,
And loved His works to scan ;
He stood before a forest oak,
And marked its structure well;
He saw its slowly tapering height,
Its bold descending swell.
He gave it thought, he gathered hope,
And, like a brave man there,
Felt it no shame to bow his heart
In thankfulness and prayer.
To work he went, and this he graved
Upon the first-laid stone,
'an may build up; the strength to stand
Must c3mc from God alone."

Slow rose the work, but safely slow,
Firm as the rooted oak;
Day after day, storm after storm
Above that light-house broke:
At last came one, and seamen said,
While yet they saw it loom,
'If it stands this, why, it will stand
Until the day of doom."
The storm passed on, long years are gone,
The engineer sleeps well,
And still around that light-house tower,
The eddying billows swell;
And many a tar, from many a land,
Through many a stormy night,
Still breathes a prayer for him that reared
That heaven-protected light.

Nebraska City, August 2, 1874.
now prepared to answer your question, How to Make a Man-
Kite ? I will describe it as given some time ago by our friend Mr.
Haskins in the Hearth/ andHome. I also send a careful copy of his
picture. To make a kite four feet high it takes three sticks,-one
four feet long, set upright to reach from the bottom of the jacket to
the top of the hat, and two crossed so as to go from each shoulder to
the corners below the vest pockets. You then put your string around
the whole by securing it'to the ends of these sticks, and the frame is
made. Now cover with thin cloth,-or paper-muslin is the best,-
and almost any body will paint an old man's head and body for you,
if you're a little boy. Next make the legs and arms of bunting.
Bunting, you know, is the loosely-woven material that flags are made
of, and is very light and open. These legs and arms are open at the
place where the hoops on which they are made join the kite, and
when up will be filled out with air. His legs should be fastened to
the bottom of the kite, and his arms at each side.
I Now I guess the boys can make one for themselves with the help
of this picture. CARLOS E. SWEET.

THE answer to Henry Steussi's puzzle was crowded out of the Oc-
tober Letter-Box. It is: The two trains will meet exactly at noon
half-way between the two stations. Leonard M. Daggett, Irving W.
James, Edward W. Robinson, E. W. D., F. 0. Marsh, R. B. C., D.
P. L. Postell and G. Edmund Waring have answered the puzzle cor-
EDWIN S. BELKNAP'S query, as to how he should polish his shells,
is answered by many readers. Minnie Russell advises him to rub
them with diluted muriatic acid. "Subscriber" says, "Soak them
in nitric acid and then rub them with a cloth dipped in the same sub-
stance" (but he warns Edwin that the strong acid is poisonous, and.
is liable to take the skin off of one's fingers). Wilford L. W. gives
the following simple suggestions:
First boil them in a pot of weak lye, say five minutes. Rinse them
in cold water; then rub them well with a dry cloth; afterward polish
them ivith a woolen cloth and emery till they present a glossy ap-
AND MIVILLY R. writes:
ST. NICHOLAS : I read in your September number that Edwin Bel-
knap would like to know how to clean shells. I send you this that I
have copied from an old book:
To Polis/ Shells.--Many species of marine and fresh-water
she.13 are composed cf mother-of-pearl, covered with a strong epider-



mis. When it is wished to exhibit the internal structure of the shells,
this epidermis is removed and the outer testaceous coatings polished
down until the pearly structure becomes visible. It lIas been a com-
mon practice to remove the thick epidermis of shells by means of
strong acids, but this is a very hazardous and tedious mode of opera-
tion, The best plan is to put the shells into a pan of cold water, with
a quantity of quick-lime, and boil them from two to four hours, accord-
ing to the thickness of the epidermis. The shells should be afterward
gradually cooled, and then some diluted muriatic acid applied care-
fully to the epidermis, which it will dislodge so that it may be easily
peeled off. Two hours are quite sufficient for such shells as the com-
mon mussel to boil. After this they must be polished with rotten
stone and oil, put on a piece of chamois leather, and then rubbed with
a flannel or nail-brush. After the operation of polishing and washing
with acids, a little Florence oil should be rubbed over to bring out the
colors and destroy the influence of the acid, should any remain on the
shell; it also tends to preserve the shell from decay. The muriatic
acid should be applied to the epidermis by means of a feather, and it
should not be suffered to remain on the outside of the shell for more
than a minute or two, and the greatest care should be used to keep
the acid from touching, and consequently destroying, the enameled
surface of the inside; indeed, some persons coat the parts of the she:l
which they wish to preserve from the effects of the acid with bees'-
wax. Some conchologists prefer laying whir- --- --l. hell with
a small camels'-hair brush to rubbing them r,, I .... "
THE following names were crowded out of the list of translators of
"Le Singe Favori," given in the October number: May Stirling,
Margaret Christina Ward, Sally Gantt, Agnes Lyman Pollard, C. H.
Anderson, Harry Neill, Minnie Pope, M. H. McElroy, Susie Elliott
and George W. S. Howson.

GENEVIEVE would like to know how the game of Jack-stones

ROBERT W., HENRY C. S., HIGH-SCHOOL BOY and many others.
--If it were possible either to print or to answer everything that is
sent to the Letter-Box, you should find special notes for each of you
in these pages; but, as it is, the editor can only thank you for your
kind, cheering words, and assure you that your various requests shall
be complied with as far as may be right and practicable. Not a word
in your kind letters passes unheeded. We wish ST. NIcuOLAS could
double its number of pages; but, even then, we fear we could hardly
do full justice to our eager, hearty crowd of girls and boys.

Hundreds and hundreds of young folks have already joined the ST.
NICHOLAS army of Bird-defenders, and every day fresh names come

pouring in. New readers and old, boys and girls all over the land,
whether subscribers to ST. NICHOLAS or not, are earnestly invited to
join the ranks. As we do not wish any to pledge themselves to this
cause without fully understanding it, we refer all who wish further in-
formation to Mr. Haskins' plea for the birds on p. 72 of ST. NicHO-
LAS for December, 1873, and to all back numbers of the Letter-Box.
Meantime, we heartily welcome the following recruits:
Trenton, N. J., August 14, x874.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Please put my name and that of my little
brother on your roll of Bird-defenders. We love the birds, and have
a pet pigeon who had his wing cut off, but is now able again to fly.
There are many robins and sparrows around our house, and we love
to watch them and to hear them chirp and sing even if they do waken
us very early in the morning. My brother's name is Elliott Verne
Richardson, and mine is-Your frend, KLYDA RICHARDSON.
Lynchburg, Va., July 30, 1874.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAs: I approve of Mr. Haskins' pledge about the
wild birds being defended. I have two little sisters, who say they
will join this army. Fanny and Rosa Marrell are their names.-Your
friend, GEO. R. MARRELL.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Please add these names to the Bird-Defend-
ers. Long may they wave!
BovS.-XWilliam H. Terry, George E. Carpenter, Lines Groa, Jock
Swezy, James Newkirk, Willie L. Cox, David C. Winfield,
Harry C. Loveland, Eddie Jessup, Eddie Boyd, William H. Bell.
Charles Winfield, H. Wiggins, Richard Abbot, Robert F. Brown,
Harry Ogden, Edward Dekay, Lewis Stivers, John Stivers, John
Cowin, William Mullock, Squire Woodward, Ashabel Prenk,
Willie Henry, Willie Steveson, George Bull..
GIRLS.-Fannie P. Cowin, Laura Adams, Jennie Gaudener, Jen-
nie Duryea, Ella Quick, Fannie Graves, Fannie Beyea, Allie
Wickham, Mary Rogers, I T, i Pruie March, Flora Palmer,
Katie Bell, Sadie Banker, i 2 ..., Emma Miller, Millie Miller,
Jennie Lord, Mimi Wickham, Jessie Harney, Birdie Harney,
and all the girls in Middletown.
These names were gathered in two hours by me. My name is not
in this list, but I am a Defender.-Affectionately yours,
Middletown, Orange Co., N. Y. JAMES B. Cox.

AND here are more names:
Jake and May Bockee, Clifton B Dare, Arthur L. Raymond,.
Isabel D. Raymond, Helen W. Raymond, Win. F. Raymond, Fred
G. Raymond, Bertie S. Raymond, Alma G. Raymond, Ethel F.
Austin, Harry N. Austin, Loule E Austin, Allie G. Raymond, C.
Finley Hersman, Emma Wetmore, William H. Wetmore, Hallie H.
Boardman, Mary Louise Webster, Mary Ella Ritter, C. V. Bunner,
and Lizzie Laning.
A great many more new names are in type, but are crowded out
this month.


I AM composed of thirty-one letters. My 26, 20, 27,
9, II, 2, i6, 19 are marks or badges ; my II, 6, 18, 14 is
a metal; my 4, 28, 12, 20, 24 is often thrown away, and
yet it may cost thousands of dollars ; my 15, 13, 1, 5, 23
is a bone ; my 22, 29, 25, 8 was a politician of old; my 31,
29, 30, 17 is a toy; my 7, 21, 19, 2 is a color; my 23, I,
7, to, 3 is an animal. My whole is a proverb.
A. S.

A CHILD at play, himself -
A youthful dreamer, idly -
All his powers in labor -
The life of man I --

I. Curtail a twist, and leave one of two of the same
age. 2. Curtail to turn aside, and leave to affirm. 3-
Curtail a confusion, and leave an infant. 4. Curtail one-
exclamation, and leave another. 5. Curtail unsubstan-
tial, and leave to ventilate. 6. Curtail custody, and
leave to contend. 7. Curtail necessity, and leave pale.
8. Curtail to hazard, and leave a wit. W. H. G.


H. B. F.

I. A CONSONANT. 2. A number. 3. Measures of
distance. 4. An abyss. 5. A consonant.
Reversed: I. A consonant. 2. A snare. 3. A name.
4. The point of anything small. 5. A consonant.




To each of the first three girls or boys who send the Riddle-Box the right answers to these sixty-three conundrums, before November T5th,
we will present a bound volume of ST. NICHOLAS. If none answer ALL correctly, we will send a book to each of the three who send the
best three sets of answers-a bound volume of ST. NICHOLAS to the one of these three who sends the best set. Please write on one side of
the paper only. Number your answers, and give your full address. Send your answers to "Riddle-Box," ST. NICHOLAS, Scribner & Co.,
New York.
All of the following may be found in the above scene:

i. Two domestic animals, neither dogs nor sheep.
2. Something used for the safety of vessels.
3. Two-thirds of a measure in common use.
4. What Columbus decided to do when he discovered
5. Very short breathing.
6. What a doctor should do.
7. Something that Robin Hood carried.
8. What a photographer should do to his sitter when
he spoils his picture by moving.
9. A flat fish.
10. A money-raising establishment.
Ii. Something that is often the best part of an oration.
12. Something between hitting the mark and missing.
13. A slang word for boldness.
14. Something that magpies often do.
15. A number of small swift-footed animals.
16. A prominent part of Shakespeare's Richard III."

17. Something too often found in children's books.
18. What I would be if I were in your place.
19. Something lately abolished in the British navy.
20o. Name of a popular modern novel.
21. An important part of the proceedings of Congress.
22. Something always present at a military parade.
23. A verb involving the idea of plunder.
24. An island off the coast of Scotland.
25. Something that every carpenter uses.
26. Nickname of a famous French general.
27. The last name of a great jumper.
28. Parts of cutting implements.
29. A president of Harvard University.
30. Where you come on your return.
31. What the man did who dined on mutton.
32. An implement used by shipbuilders.
33. A lender made famous by a modern English poet.
34. Something often used as a sleigh-robe


Parts of a tree.
A kind of butter.
Part of a railway.
An edible mollusk.
A delicious fruit.
Parts of a ship.
Sacred buildings.
A ghost.
A part of every river.

45. A symbol of royalty.
46. Part of a clock.
47. Gamblers.
48. A number of fish.
49. Something for dinner.
50. Scholars and flowers.
51. A favorite essayist.
52. A term used in music.
53. A collection of stories.
54. A noted American general.

A common garden flower.
Part of a carpenter's tool.
A projecting tract of land.
Parts of an American cereal.
A celebrated metaphysical writer.
An instrument used in shooting.
Something often found in a paper
of needles.
All flesh.
Annanias and Saphira.



THE diagonals of the square form respectively, a kind
of sea-fish and a constellation.
I. A book of the Bible. 2. A mechanical contrivance.
3. To steal. 4. Love. 5. To recompense. 6. An
arithmetical term. 7. An aperture. TYPO.
I CONTAIN only two syllables. Of these, my first im-
plies plurality; my second sound health; and my whole
is the name of a profligate earl, who was the third con-
sort of a queen noted alike for her beauty and her mis-
fortunes. He died insane, and in exile; and the beauti-
ful queen, after being queen-consort of one country, and
reigning sovereign of another, spent nineteen years in
captivity, and was finally beheaded on the 8th of Feb-
ruary, 1587. What was the earl's name, and of what
queen was he the husband ? F. R. F.


IN the days of the immortal George,
At Lexington and Valley Forge,
I hung behind.
But now, in modern feats of arms,
The swiftest ball brings no alarms;
And though my stroke no brother harms,
I victory find.
In fact, the game is up without me
(That 's one thing curious about me);
But then, dear reader, it is true
I venture nowhere without you.


THE second (and third) omitted word in each sen-
tence is formed from the first by changing the middle
I. As -- came running toward me, I shot him
through the 2. In a every -- of emotion
disappeared. 3. As he stepped out of the -- a bul-
let -- his 4. Let us not with our -
temptations. 5. in the sale of fruit is dangerous,
as soon renders it worthless. 6. Do not -- so at
the windows. 7. down your hand and -
the dog. 8. The selections from "Lohengrin,"
at the did almost me to Wagner's theory
of 'music. 9. I gave some of the for break-
fast. CHARL.


ANAGRAMMATICAL BLANKS -Glade, edge, gale, lagged, glad,
dale, led, dell, all.
REBUS No. i.-One ought always with zeal to undertake to im-
prove, and to form or acquire just and excellent habits.
CLASSICAL TRANSPOSITIONS.-I. Charon-anchor. 2. Zeus-
Suez. 3. Typhon-Python. 4. Diana-naiad. 5. Pan-nap. 6.
Mars-arms. 7. Shade-Hades.
DECAPITATED RHYMES .-Pirate, irate, rate, ate.
SvNCOPATIONS.-i. They-thy. 2. Rule-rue. 3. Spite-site.
4. Shaved-saved. 5. Glory-gory.
REBUS No. 2.-The vacant stare bespeaks a mind unhinged.
CRoss-WORD.-Stormy petrel.
PUZZLE.-Ham, Shem, Seth, Heth.
MUSICAL TRANSPOSITIONS.-I. Genius-Seguin. 2. Drive-Verdi,
3. Parepa-appear. 4. Brignoli-broiling. 5. Braham-Brahma.
6. Haydn-handy.


(qu L -

AtNSWERS TO PUZZLES IN SEPTEMBER NUMBER have been received previous to September i8 from Minnie Thomas, Lydia W. Conklin,
"Typo," A. P. Folwell, C. W. R., Mary S. Morrill, Marshall F. Wyman, Mamie L. Leithead, Willie L. Tiernan, Gertie Bradley, Guil-
liam," A. M. K., Thomas P: Sanborn, Valeria F. Penrose, Jessie Foster, Edward W. Robinson, Elvira Reumont, Archie Reumont, Katie
Brayton, Maria Peckham, Mary E. Turner, M. D. C., Lulie M. French, Charles J. Gayler, Louise F. Olmstead, Wilford L. W., W. D. T.,
Rose Roberts, Bertha E. Saltmarsh, James J. Ormsbee, "Neno and Nimpo," Minnie Watkins, G. E. M., Grace Winans, Alice G. Bull,
" Subscriber," D. W. Kirk, Minnie T. Allen, Sallie Bush, "Alice," Arthur T. Randall, E. Marshall, Ray F. Dyer, Fannie D. Musgove,
R. B. C.. Willie R. Brown, Carrie Melvin, Julia Dean Hunter.



ties him

--" / }




"OH! oh! my old hens are dead," cried old Mrs. Jolly-
pole, and what shall I do ? I shall have no eggs to make
custard, no eggs to boil for our supper."
Her little grandson Rey looked up and said, No eggs ;
but we'll have bread and milk, and that's good, gran'ma."
"Yes, but eggs are better," said Grandma Jollypole, and
then she put on her sun-bonnet, to carry some socks she

is the way they carry the baby in Japan. The
or older sister, or nurse, holds him on her back, or
on with straps. They call him ko," which means
child or baby. Is n't he fat ?
Almost all the Japanese babies
"" -- are fat and rosy. Somebody
has called Japan the Paradise
of Babies. Do you see how
his hair is cut ? His little head
is shaved in front, except one
wide lock, which is banged."
His eyes are looking right at
you. He seems to think:
Why, what a funny-looking
.; -- baby 'you are! You 're not a
-_--- Japanese ko,' are you ?"



had knitted to Deacon Dean's wife. Little Rey sat in the
door-way and watched for her return. A man came along
with a wagon-load of hens and roosters in coops.
Can you give me a drink ?" said the driver to Rey.
Yes, sir," said Rey ; and he brought out a bowlful of
milk. The man drank every drop of it, and then he asked,
Well, what shall I give you for it? A penny ?"
My gran'ma wants two hens, for hers are dead," said
Rey. I'd like the hens 'stead of the penny, though gran'ma
never takes anything."
Well," said the man, "c I 'd give you two hens instead
.of the penny, but hens cost a good many pennies. What
else could you give me for them beside the milk ? "

SWell," said Rey, "there's Whitey, the cow." He
pointed to a white cow eating grass by the wayside. I '11
be solly to have her go away," he said, because she eats out
of my hand ; but gran'ma says eggs are better than milk."
The man laughed, and then set down a coop with two
nice hens in it at Rey's feet; and he said, "Let's shake
hands, little man, on our bargain."
Rey shook hands, and then he went and patted the cow.


"Good-by, Whitey," he said; "I like you better 'n eggs !"
But the man had mounted his wagon.
Wont you take her with you now?" asked Rey.
I '11 come back when I want her," answered the man;
and then he drove away.
It was not long before old Mrs. Jollypole came home.
"c Oh, see ,!" cried Rey. "A man gave me these two nice
hens for the cow, and now you can have eggs, gran'ma "
What !" cried his grandma, ready to faint at the bad
news. But the smiles came back to her face when she saw
Whitey chewing her cud just back of the cottage.
He is coming for her when he wants her," said Rey.
But the man never came again.

- -- _- :V
.. _- .. : -.t -

Ride a cock-horse
To Banbury Cross,
To see a fine lady
Upon a white horse.

Rings on her fingers,
And bells on her toes,
She shall have music
Wherever she goes.