Front Cover
 Captain Porter and the Essex; or,...
 Busy saturday
 The frigate-bird
 Eight cousins
 A little truth-teller
 Some queer animals
 How it went
 A potato story which begins with...
 Lord Cornwallis's day
 The "Miss Muffett" series
 One boy's opinion of the "good...
 The young surveyor
 "The penny ye meant to gi'e"
 Some young readers of St....
 Hunting for my horses
 Jenny Paine's hat
 Calling the flowers
 The Peterkins too late for Amanda's...
 A story of a brave donkey
 The letter-box
 The riddle-box
 The army of bird-defenders - Grand...
 For the birds
 Back Cover


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5/4/2007 1:50:41 PM -

St. Nicholas, vol. 2, no. 12
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065513/00026
 Material Information
Title: St. Nicholas, vol. 2, no. 12
Series Title: St. Nicholas.
Alternate Title: Saint Nicholas
Physical Description: 68 v. : ill. ; 25-30 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Publisher: Scribner,
Publication Date: -c1943.
Subjects / Keywords: Literature for Children
Genre: Children's literature
serial   ( sobekcm )
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: notis - ocm0176
oclc - 7405657; (DLC)SF 89099153
oclc - (DLC) 2006255186; 55136171
System ID: UF00065513:00026


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Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Captain Porter and the Essex; or, The first battle of Admiral Farragut
        Page 721
        Page 722
        Page 723
    Busy saturday
        Page 724
    The frigate-bird
        Page 725
        Page 726
    Eight cousins
        Page 727
        Page 728
        Page 729
        Page 730
        Page 731
        Page 732
        Page 733
        Page 734
        Page 735
        Page 736
        Page 737
    A little truth-teller
        Page 738
    Some queer animals
        Page 739
        Page 740
        Page 741
        Page 742
    How it went
        Page 743
        Page 744
        Page 745
        Page 746
        Page 747
        Page 748
    A potato story which begins with a bean-pole
        Page 749
    Lord Cornwallis's day
        Page 750
    The "Miss Muffett" series
        Page 751
    One boy's opinion of the "good old times" - Birds that build play-houses
        Page 752
    The young surveyor
        Page 753
        Page 754
        Page 755
        Page 756
        Page 757
        Page 758
    "The penny ye meant to gi'e"
        Page 759
        Page 760
    Some young readers of St. Nicholas
        Page 761
        Page 762
        Page 763
    Hunting for my horses
        Page 764
        Page 765
        Page 766
    Jenny Paine's hat
        Page 767
        Page 768
        Page 769
        Page 770
    Calling the flowers
        Page 771
    The Peterkins too late for Amanda's school-exhibition in Boston
        Page 772
        Page 773
        Page 774
        Page 775
    A story of a brave donkey
        Page 776
        Page 777
    The letter-box
        Page 778
        Page 779
        Page 780
        Page 781
        Page 782
    The riddle-box
        Page 783
        Page 784
    The army of bird-defenders - Grand muster-roll
        Page i
        Page ii
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
    For the birds
        Page vi
        Page vii
        Page viii
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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OCTOBER, 1875.

No. 12.






THE Essex was a small frigate, built on Winter
Island in Salem harbor in 1799. She was rated
as a thirty-two, though mounting in reality forty
thirty-two pound carronades and six long twelves.
After various noteworthy cruises, in one of which
she first carried the pennant of a United States
ship-of-war beyond the Cape of Good Hope, she
was placed under command of Captain David Por-
ter, a young officer who'was first lieutenant of
the Philadelphia at Tripoli, and was already dis-
tinguished for his daring and skill. She was as-
-signed in the Summer of 1812 to the squadron of
Commodore Bainbridge, who had been appointed
to the Constitution after her famous fight with the
Guerriere, and had made her his flagship. In pur-
suance of his orders, the Essex, Captain Porter,
sailed October 28 from the Delaware, with a full
crew of three hundred and nineteen souls, and
a large supply of stores which made her deep and
impeded her speed. She was to meet the Com-
modore at Porto Praya St. Jago, in the Cape De
Verde Islands, but failing to reach there in season,
then continued on to the second rendezvous at
Fernando de Noronha, off Brazil.
During this long cruise, the Essex had fallen in
with but one of the enemy's vessels, the brig
Noctau, which surrendered at the first fire. The
prize was sent to the States with a prize crew, but
was recaptured; however, $55,000 in specie found
on board of her had luckily been transferred to
the Essex.
At Fernando de Noronha, Captain Porter re-
VOL. II.-47.

ceived a letter from Commodore Bainbridge di-
recting him to lie off Cape Frio to the southward
for the Constitution. But he was disappointed
again, and after beating against violent head winds
and chasing some of the enemy's merchantmen,
the Essex put into St. Catherine's for a supply of
water. As it had now become useless for Captain
Porter to search farther for the Constitution, he
was obliged to devise some new plan of action
for his further movements. As the English influ-
ence was so great in the ports of South America as
to make them hostile to American ships, he was
unable to revictual on that coast, and, apparently,
would be forced to return to the United States.
But with enterprise and courage characteristic of
his ardent nature; Captain Porter resolved, instead
of returning to the States, to weather Cape Horn
and ravage the Pacific, destroying the whale-ships
of the enemy and living on the stores with which
he knew they would be abundantly provided.
It was a daring, but, as the event proved, a prac-
ticable scheme. The voyage around the Horn was
of the roughest sort. The spirit of the black,
rocky, inhospitable Cape gave the adventurous
little frigate a rude greeting. For many days she
buffeted adverse seas, and when, after the weary
voyagers thought themselves at last clear of the
land and that the violence of the winds was abated,
a gale of tremendous fury suddenly arose, and the
exhausted crew were again clinging to the slanting
yards, furling and reefing the flapping sails. But
an ocean current setting to leeward obliged them




to keep a press of sail on the laboring vessel in
order to claw off the land, and about midnight
she plunged her head into a sea which swept the
decks, and rushed below in such floods that all on
board thought she was foundering; but, stagger-
ing under the blow, the Essex retained her buoy-
ancy, and her bow lifted once more on the surge.
It was a narrow escape, and had the force of the
gale not blown itself out soon after, the ship must
have been lost.
On the Isth of March the Essex ran into the
port of Valparaiso and cast anchor. To the sur-
prise and joy of the crew, Chili had lately revolted
from the rule of Spain, and was therefore friendly
to the United States, so that a very cordial recep-
tion was given to Captain Porter and his crew, and
all facilities were afforded them for laying in the
stores of which they were in such pressing want.
After obtaining considerable valuable information
from American whaleships in port concerning the
English privateers and whalers in the Pacific, Cap-
tain Porter put to sea, heading northward.
The first prize taken was the Peruvian privateer
Nereyda, cruising after American whalers. Her
guns and ammunition were thrown overboard, and
she was then released. After recapturing the
American whaler Barclay, the Essex gradually
cruised to Charles Island, where was a box among
the rocks, called a post-office," in which the
whalers left accounts of their luck and future move-
ments. A curious post-office was this in mid-ocean,
without post-master or postage, whose contents
could be read by all whether friend or foe, and
foe did sometimes read the "Pacific mail," for
Captain Porter found in it information that proved
of much value. Continuing his cruise among the
Gallipagos Islands, he chased and captured three
large whalers, which made considerable show of
resistance. They were all well armed and provis-
ioned. Of these, the Georgiana was turned into a
cruiser; guns from the other ships were put into
her, which, with those she had, made a battery of
sixteen guns; she was manned by a prize crew
from the Essex of forty-one men, and was then sent
off to capture whalemen in her turn. After taking
two more prizes, the Essex put in at Tuinbez, on
the coast of Ecuador, with six prizes in company,
where she was soon joined by the Georgiana, which
in her independent cruise had captured three of
the enemy's ships. At Tumbez the largest of the
prizes was turned into a sloop-of-war, twenty guns
were mounted on her deck, a crew of sixty men
manned her, and she was named the Essex, Junior.
After a general salute, the Essex, with all her
prizes,-quite a fleet,-put to'sea, when the Essex,
Junior, with five of the prizes in company, sailed
for Valparaiso.

One of the prizes captured by the Essex was
taken in a calm by means of drags invented by
Captain Porter. They were triangular pieces of
canvas stretched on a frame, weighted on one side,
and were dropped in the water from the sprit sail-
yard on the bowsprit. By pulling on them from
the stern, then dropping them again ahead, ,the
ship was forced through the water at the rate of
two miles an hour. At Banks Bay the frigate was
joined by the Essex, Junior, which brought the im-
portant information that the Chilian Government
was becoming hostile toward the United States,
and that the British Government, alarmed by the
news of Captain Porter's depredations among
their shipping, had dispatched several ships-of-war
to the Pacific in pursuit of the Essex. Accord-
ingly, he concluded to refit at the Marquesas
Islands, and anchored in the bay of Nookaheevah
with all his fleet. Up to this time the Essex had
taken fourteen vessels, several of which had letters
of marque, comprising in all four thousand tons
and about four hundred prisoners; and a year after
sailing from the Chesapeake, she was lying safely
in a beautiful island port in the Central Pacific
surrounded by a fleet of her prizes, attended by a
consort, and well provided with all the needful
The long cruise was now varied by a stay at Noo-
kaheevah, where the crew luxuriated in its lovely
valleys, under its groves of cocoas, and mingled
harmoniously with the naked, tattooed islanders,
who swam off in crowds to meet the ships as they
entered the harbor. One adventure gave a tem-
porary excitement to the crew. The natives were
divided into rival tribes, Typees and Happars, who
dwelt in separate valleys, and were often at war
with each other. The Happars being enemies to
the Typees, who had received the Essex with such
hospitality, showed hostilities toward the Ameri-
cans in so decided a manner that Captain Porter
was obliged to send a large detachment on shore
to chastise them. Joined by their manly but sav-
age allies, the sailors, after a severe fight, succeeded
in entering the hostile district, and inflicting such
injuries on the Happars as secured themselves from
further molestation.
After lying some weeks at Nookaheevah, the
Essex and the Essex, Junior, sailed for Valparaiso,
where Captain Porter was desirous of meeting the
English frigate Phoebe, which had been sent in
search of him; but when that vessel at last ap-
peared off the port, she was, most unexpectedly to
Captain Porter, accompanied by the Cherub, a
sloop-of-war, of twenty-eight guns and one hundred
and eighty men, while the Phoebe carried forty-six
guns and a crew of over three hundred men.
The Phoebe dropped into the harbor with a light




breeze. Captain Porter had ranged his men at
quarters in full preparation for an attack, as he
was aware that, although Valparaiso was a neutral.
port, the English would not hesitate to open fire if
it were of advantage for them to do so. An ex-
citing episode now ensued, for as the Phcebe glided
to her anchorage she passed very near to the
Essex, and, as her commander hailed the American
ship and inquired after Captain Porter's health,
the latter replied that he would not answer for
the consequences if the vessels should come foul
of each other. Captain Hillyar replied that he
did not intend to attack; but just at that instant
the wind took the Phoebe aback, and she fell aboard
of the Essex, her bowsprit swinging over the
quarter-deck of the latter. Captain Porter called
away his boarders, and would have been perfectly
justified in raking the English ship with his guns,
but Captain Hillyar warmly protested that the col-
lision was purely accidental, and by trimming his
sails succeeded in backing his ship out of her awk-
ward position. Had Captain Porter opened fire at
that critical moment, there is little doubt that he
would have achieved a result entirely different to
that which befell him in the fight that afterward
For six weeks the hostile ships maneuvered in
and around the port of Valparaiso, the Essex being
found to outsail the enemy, so that she could
easily have escaped, but Captain Porter preferred
instead to fight the Phcebe, if he could engage
her singly; this, however, Captain Hillyar carefully
avoided, being evidently under orders not to en-
gage the American ship except with the aid of
the Cherub, a fact which shows with what respect
English seamen now regarded the American navy,
for never before this war had such a thing been
known as that an English ship should avoid a fight
with an enemy of equal force. But in this case
the importance of capturing the Essex, and the
doubtful result of meeting her with a single ship
and equal force, were so apparent, that the enemy
showed a wariness very rare in the English ma-
After waiting several weeks for a fair fight, and
learning that a number of English men-of-war
were daily expected at Valparaiso, Captain Porter
finally concluded to sail; but before he was quite
ready to put to sea, a heavy wind from the south
made the Essex drag her anchors to the mouth
of the harbor, which runs north and south. Noth-
ing remained but to make sail, with the hope of
clearing the enemy's ships, which were lying near
the point of angles at the western extremity of the
port. But this is a very dangerous headland,
squalls often coming off in heavy puffs, and just as
the Essex was shortening sail when passing the

bluff, a squall struck the ship, carrying away the
maintopmast, throwing a number of the crew over-
board, and effectually crippling the vessel.
Under these severe circumstances, Captain Por-
ter could only stand before the wind to the north-
eastern side of the harbor, where he cast anchor
within half-a-mile of a Chilian battery, thus being
in neutral water and protected from attack, as one
would think, by the law of nations. But Captain
Hillyar, entirely regardless of this circumstance, or
of the honor shown by Captain Porter in not at-
tacking him on a similar occasion, at once took
advantage of the disabled condition of the Essex
to place his vessel astern of the American frigate,
where he could pour in a terrific raking fire, and
at the same time be scarcely touched by her
guns. The Cherub also hauled across the bow of
the Essex, but finding that the forward guns of her
antagonist could play upon her, took up a position
near the Phoebe. The most Captain Porter could
do was to run three long twelves through the stern
ports, and these were trained with such effect on
the enemy, that in half an hour they were obliged
to move out of range to repair the injuries received.
Three times during this first fight the Essex was
veered around by springs or hawsers drawing on
the cable from the stern, with the purpose of get-
ting her broadsides to bear, but in each case the
springs were shot away, and the batteries of the
Essex proved of little use.
After repairing, the English ships sailed down
and took position on the quarter of the Essex,
where she could not get any of her guns to bear.
To stand their fire without making any return was
very galling, and although, such were the injuries
she had suffered in her rigging, the flying-jib was
the only sail that could be hoisted on the Essex
to make her pay off before the wind, it was spread,
and the ship gradually bore down to board the
Phoebe. The American crew, under the perfec-
tion of discipline, and not in the least disheartened,
now opened a tremendous fire, which soon drove
the Cherub out of range of her guns and forced
her to remain at a distance. The Phoebe also kept
out of reach of the Essex, having a leading wind
and content to blaze away with her long eighteens,
which wrought great execution on the decks of the
American ship. Fifteen men fell in succession at
one of the guns of the Essex.
Every expedient for saving the vessel had now
been tried in vain. She was helpless before the
tremendous fire of the Phoebe, unable to return
the fire on account of her position, and, in addition
to all these horrors, the flames were bursting from
her hatches. Captain Porter, still unwounded and
resolute to fight it out to the last, finally listened to
the entreaties of his crew, who represented that


further resistance was worse than useless, and he
reluctantly ordered the colors to be struck.
No more desperate and bloody combat is re-
corded in the annals of modern naval history. The
battle was fought by the Essex against great odds,
for not only did she have to combat two ships,
one her superior and the other a respectable an-
tagonist, the Essex, Junior, being altogether un-
fit to engage in such a conflict, but during nearly
the entire contest she could make only six of her
guns available, besides having all her top hamper
so damaged as to render it next to impossible to
work the ship. How great were the disadvan-
tages under which she was fought is evident by the
losses she sustained. In the naval actions of that
war the losses of the English ships were almost
always greater than those of the Americans, owing,
among other reasons, to the superior gunnery of the
latter. But in the fight off Valparaiso, the Essex,
out of a total of two hundred and fifty-five souls
on board, lost one hundred and fifty-two, while
the enemy's crews, numbering just five hundred
men, sustained a loss of only fifteen killed and
wounded! This fact alone, considering the length,
skill and desperation of the battle, shows conclu-
sively under what disadvantages Captain Porter
fought, and what credit he deserved for maintain-
ing the unequal contest so long.
Captain Hillyar permitted the Essex, Junior, to
be turned into a cartel-ship, or vessel for carrying
prisoners destined to be exchanged, and allowed
the surviving crew of the Essex to sail in her for

the United States. Off New York, the Essex,
Junior, was overhauled by an English frigate, and
.for fear he should be detained by her, Captain
Porter, while still thirty miles from shore, made
his escape in a whale-boat, being assisted in the
attempt by a fog which concealed him from the
English vessel. However, the Essex, Junior, was
soon allowed to proceed, and the gallant survivors
of the crew of the ill-fated but glorious frigate
Essex once more stepped gladly forth upon their
native land.
Captain Porter afterward published an account of
his famous cruise, in two volumes, which contains
many interesting details, and is well worth pe-
rusal. Among other matters he mentions the cir-
cumstance that there was on board a young mid-
shipman who was very desirous of engaging in the
foray in the Marquesas Islands, but was prevented
on account of his youth; he afterward distin-
guished himself for his unflinching courage during
the trying scenes of the fight at Valparaiso, and
would, for his conduct at that time, have been re-
commended for promotion if his extreme youth
had not hindered such a reward of merit, he being
but little over twelve years of age. This young
hero lived to our day, and won immortal fame in
the naval operations of the late war, being no other
than David C. Farragut, who, for some time before
his death, held the highest position in the Ameri-
can navy. He went to school in his profession
early, and, although it was a rough training, its
results proved invaluable to the country.



WHAT a busy day for little May
Every Saturday is !
There's so much to do, enough for two,
And how she ever can get through
Is one of the mysteries.

You'd think she'd desire some help to hire,
But times are hard, you know,
And she hardly knows how to get the clothes
For her two dollies, Lou and Rose-
Her bank funds are so low.

The washing comes first, and that's the worst-
The clothes for Rose and Lou;
She puts them in tubs, and hard she rubs,
And with her little fist she scrubs
Till she thinks that they will do.

Then she ties a line of stoutest twine
From the door-knob to a chair;
Then quickly wrings the tiny things,
And in a little basket brings,
And hangs them up with care.



Now while they dry, her hands must fly,
And busy her feet must be;
First she must make some rolls and cake,
And put them in her stove to bake,
For company's coming to tea.

And then in haste, no time to waste,
Her children's beds she makes;
Then she must see that the dishes for tea
Are washed as clean as they can be,
And with these great pains she takes.

Now her clothes are dry, and she must try
To iron them very soon;
For there's sweeping to do, and mending too,
And then her children, Rose and Lou,
She must dress for afternoon.

Should you not think that she would sink
With so much work to do?
But, strange to say, throughout the day,
Many an hour she '11 find to play,
And help her mamma too.



HERE is a pirate of the air. He is found, far
out at sea, in tropical regions, and alas for any re-
spectable sea-bird that he may spy carrying home
a small cargo of freshly caught fish to its expectant
Down sweeps this swift robber, and before the
poor gull or tern can make up its mind about terms
of surrender, the frigate-bird has forced it to drop
its fish, which is swooped after and caught up by
the pirate before it so much as touches the water.
It would be a difficult thing for any bird, respect-
able or otherwise, to fly faster than the frigate-bird,
which has longer and more powerful wings, in pro-
portion to its size, than any other bird. If, in the

picture, its wings were stretched out, you would
see this for yourselves. The whole bird does not
weigh more than three pounds and a-half, and yet
its wings often measure more than seven feet from
tip to tip. These birds are so strong and swift
upon the wing, that they are often seen out at sea
a thousand miles from land, and they will fly
straight into the eye of the wind, and, when they
choose, can rise high above the hurricane and the
They live principally on fish, and, when they
cannot overhaul a weaker and slower bird and steal
his hard-earned prize, they will take the trouble to
fish for themselves. But they seldom dive for their



prey. They can see a fish from an im--
mense height; and when an unfortunate
fellow happens to be swimming near the---
top of the water, a frigate-bird, floating .
in the air so high up as to be almost in- -
visible, will suddenly drop down, and
with a skim over the surface of the water --
will scoop Mr. Fish out of the waves be- i .
fore he has time to flap a fin. I-
Sometimes, you know, flying-fish try
their hands, or rather their wing-fins, at I -
flying; and at such times, if there hap- --
pens to be a frigate-bird about, he gen-
erally lays in a pretty good stock of fish.
He catches the flying-fish as easily as
you would pull up radishes.
One of the most contemptible prac-
tices of this bird is that of stealing the .,
young ones from the nests of other
birds. Nothing pleases a frigate-bird .
better than a diet of tender, unfledged
He makes rather a poor figure on
land; and as he is not a good swimmer, I ...
he spends most of his time in the air, I- .
where he certainly shows to great advan- ,
tage, as far as gracefulness and power c :
are considered.
But, as we see, this bird which is capa-
ble of such grand flights, living almost eni! I :! i .
the air, skimming along over the beautify,! .: i.you i,. I i .- _.. _
waves or soaring high up into the upper a!. .
the storms and clouds, makes no better u-- ..A .0 I..
advantages than to become a thief and a i- .J ... h.: -
whenever a chance occurs. -
But it will not do to expect too much o ,.. I l,. .ri r. 1. ..
Even the dear little downy chickens will st .. I .,, I ..I .
each other, whenever they have a chance. I o -.
of them finds a fat grasshopper, or a paral.uuluy ly, ad on uh a large -
big piece of bread, how the others will run after scale, that we take more notice of his piratical dis-
him and chase him up and down and around the position than is, perhaps, quite just to him.
yard! And if one of them overtakes him, how The frigate-bird is often found as far north as
quickly will he snatch at the tempting morsel, Charleston, S. C., but in the Gulf States and Cali-
and if he gets it, how soon he will find all the fornia it is abundant, and on the Florida keys, in
others after him A canary-bird, now, is gen- the Spring, are to be found thousands of its nests.

SAID a very small wren Then answered the hen
To a very large hen: To the very small wren:
"Pray, why do you make such a clatter? "If I laid such small eggs as you, madam,
I never could guess I would not cluck loud,
Why an egg more or less Nor would I feel proud.
Should be thought so important a matter." Look at these How you'd crow if you had 'em "




WHATEVER danger there might have been from
the effects of that sudden chill, it was soon over,
though of course Aunt Myra refused to believe it,
and Dr. Alec cherished his girl with redoubled vigi-
lance and tenderness for months afterward. Rose
quite enjoyed being sick, because as soon as the
pain ended the fun began, and for a week or two
she led the life of a little princess secluded in the
Bower, while every one served, amused, and watched
over her in the most delightful manner. But the
Doctor was called away to see an old friend who
was dangerously ill, and then Rose felt like a young
bird deprived of its mother's sheltering wing; es-
pecially on one afternoon when the aunts were tak-
ing their naps, and the house was very still within
while snow fell softly without.
I'11 go and hunt up Phebe, she is alwaysnice
and busy, and likes to have me help her. If Dolly
is out of the way we can make caramels and sur-
prise the boys when they come," Rose said to her-
self, as she threw down her book and felt ready for
society of some sort.
She took the precaution to peep through the
slide before she entered the kitchen, for Dolly
allowed no messing when she was round. But the
coast was clear, and no one but Phebe appeared,
sitting at the table with her head on her arms, ap-
parently asleep. Rose was just about to wake her
with a Boo when she lifted her head, dried her
wet eyes with her blue apron, and fell to work with
a resolute face, on something she was evidently
much interested in. Rose could not make out
what it was, and her curiosity was greatly excited,
for Phebe was writing with a sputtering pen on
some bits of brown paper, apparently copying some-
thing from a little book.
I must know what the dear thing is about, and
why she cried, and then set her lips tight and went
to work with all her might," thought Rose, forget-
ting all about the caramels; and going round to the
door, she entered the kitchen, saying pleasantly:
Phebe, I want something to do. Can't you let
me help you about anything? or shall I be in the
Oh, dear no, miss; I always love to have you
round when things are tidy. What would you
like to do? answered Phebe, opening a drawer
as if about to sweep her own affairs out of sight;

but Rose stopped her, exclaiming, like a curious
child :
Let me see What is it ? I wont tell, if you'd
rather not have Dolly know."
"I'm only trying to study a bit; but I'm so
stupid I don't get on much," answered the girl, re-
luctantly permitting her little mistress to examine
the poor contrivances she was trying to work with.
A broken slate that had blown off the roof, an inch
or two of pencil, an old almanac for a Reader, sev-
eral bits of brown or yellow paper ironed smoothly
and sewed together for a copy-book, and the copies
sundry receipts written in Aunt Plenty's neat hand.
These, with a small bottle of ink and a rusty pen,
made up Phebe's outfit, and it was little wonder
that she did not get on," in spite of the patient
persistence that dried the desponding tears and
drove along the sputtering pen with a will.
"You may laugh if you want to, Miss Rose. I
know my things are queer, and that's why I hide
'em; but I don't mind since you've found me out,
and I aint a bit ashamed except of being so back-
ward at my age," said Phebe humbly, though her
cheeks grew redder as she washed out some crooked
capitals with a tear or two not yet dried upon the
"Laugh at you I feel more like crying to think
what a selfish girl I am, to have loads of books and
things and never remember to give you some.
Why did n't you come and ask me, and not go
struggling along alone in this way? It was very
wrong of you, Phebe, and I 'll never forgive you if
you do so again," answered Rose, with one hand on
Phebe's shoulder while the other gently turned the
leaves of the poor little copy-book.
"I did n't like to ask for anything more when
you are so good to me all the time, miss, dear,"
began Phebe, looking up with grateful eyes.
Oh, you proud thing just as if it was n't fun
to give away, and I had the best of it. Now, see
here, I've got a plan and you must n't say No, or I
shall scold. I want something to do, and I 'm go-
ing to teach you all I know; it wont take long,"
and Rose laughed as she put her arm around
Phebe's neck, and patted the smooth dark head
with the kind little hand that so loved to give.
It would be just heavenly and Phebe's face
shone at the mere idea; but fell again as she added
wistfully, Only I 'm afraid I ought not to let you
do it, Miss Rose. It will take time, and may be the
Doctor would n't like it."


He did n't want me to study much, but he
never said a word about teaching, and I don't
believe he will mind a bit. Any way, we can try it
till he comes, so pack up your things and go right
to my room and we'll begin this very day; I'd
truly like to do it, and we '11 have nice times, see if
we don't! cried Rose, eagerly.
It was a pretty sight to see Phebe bundle her
humble outfit into her apron, and spring up as if
the desire of her heart had suddenly been made a
happy fact to her; it was a still prettier sight to see
Rose run gayly on before, smiling like a good fairy
as she beckoned to the other, singing as she went:

"The way into my parlor is up the winding stair,
And many are the curious things I'11 show you when you're there.
Will you, will you walk in, Phebe dear?"

Oh, wont I! answered Phebe fervently, adding
as they entered the Bower, "You are the dearest
spider that ever was, and I'm the happiest fly."
I'm going to be very strict, so sit down in that
chair and don't say a word till school is ready to
open," ordered Rose, delighted with the prospect of
such a useful and pleasant something to do."
So Phebe sat demurely in her place while her
new teacher laid forth books and slates, a pretty
inkstand and a little globe; hastily tore a bit off her
big sponge, sharpened pencils with more energy
than skill, and when all was ready gave a prance of
satisfaction that set the pupil laughing.
"Now the school is open, and I shall hear you
read, so that I may know in which class to put you,
Miss Moore," began Rose with great dignity, as she
laid a book before her scholar, and sat down in the
-easy chair with a long rule in her hand.
Phebe did pretty well, only tripping now and
then over a hard word, and pronouncing identical
"iden-tickle," in a sober way that tickled Rose,
though never a smile betrayed her. The spelling
lesson which followed was rather discouraging;
Phebe's ideas of geography were very vague, and
grammar was nowhere, though the pupil protested
that she tried so hard to talk nice like educated
folks that Dolly called her a stuck-up piece who
didn't know her place."
"Dolly's an old goose, so don't you mind her,
for she will say 'nater,' vittles,' and 'doos' as
long as she lives, and insist that they are right.
You do talk very nicely, Phebe; I've observed it,
and grammar will help you, and show why some
things are right and others aint-are not, I mean,"
added Rose, correcting herself, and feeling that she
must mind her own parts of speech if she was to
serve as an example for Phebe.
When the arithmetic came the little teacher was
surprised to find her scholar quicker in some things
than herself, for Phebe had worked away at the

columns in the butcher's and baker's books till
she could add so quickly and correctly that Rose
was amazed, and felt that in this branch her pupil
would soon excel the teacher if she kept on at the
same pace. Her praise cheered Phebe immensely,
and they went bravely on, both getting so inter-
ested that time flew unheeded till Aunt Plenty ap-
peared, exclaiming, as she stared at the two heads
bent over one slate :
"Bless my heart, what is going on now ?"
School, aunty. I'm teaching Phebe, and it's
great fun cried Rose, looking up with a bright
But Phebe's was brighter, though she added,
with a wistful look:
"May be I ought to have asked leave first; only
when Miss Rose proposed this, I was so happy I
forgot to. Shall I stop, ma'am? "
Of course not, child; I'm glad to see you fond
of your book, and to find Rose helping you along.
My blessed mother used to sit at work with her
maids about her, teaching them many a useful
thing in the good old fashion that's gone by now.
Only don't neglect your work, dear, or let the
books interfere with the duties."
As Aunt Plenty spoke, with her kind old face
beaming approvingly upon the girls, Phebe glanced
at the clock, saw that it pointed to five, knew that
Dolly would soon be down, expecting to find prep-
arations for supper under way, and, hastily drop-
ping her pencil, she jumped up, saying:
Please can I go ? I '11 clear up after I 've done
my chores."
School is dismissed," answered Rose, and with
a grateful Thank you, heaps and heaps! Phebe
ran away singing the multiplication table as she set
the tea ditto.
That was the way it began, and for a week the
class of one went on with great pleasure and profit
to all concerned; for the pupil proved a bright
one, and came to her lessons as to a feast, while
the young teacher did her best to be worthy the
high opinion held of her, for Phebe firmly believed
that Miss Rose knew everything in the way of
Of course the lads found out what was going on,
and chaffed the girls about the "Seminary," as
they called the new enterprise; but they thought
it a good thing on the whole, kindly offered to
give lessons in Greek and Latin gratis, and decided
among themselves that Rose was a little trump
to give the Phebe-bird such a capital boost."
Rose herself had some doubts as to how it would
strike her uncle, and concocted a wheedlesome
speech which should at once convince him that it
was the most useful, wholesome and delightful plan
ever devised. But she got no chance to deliver



her address, for Dr. Alec came upon her so unex-
pectedly that it went out of her head entirely. She
was sitting on the floor in the library, poring over
a big book laid open in her lap, and knew nothing
of the long-desired arrival till two large, warm
hands met under her chin and gently turned her
head back, so that some one could kiss her heartily
on either cheek, while a fatherly voice said, half
reproachfully, "Why is my girl brooding over a
dusty Encyclopedia when she ought to be running
to meet the old gentleman who could n't get on
another minute without her?"
"Oh, uncle I'm so glad! and so sorry Why
did n't you let us know what time you'd be here ?
or call out the minute you came ? Have n't I been
homesick for you? and now I'm so happy to
have you back I could hug your dear, old curly
head off," cried Rose, as the Encyclopedia went
down with a bang, and she up with a spring that
carried her into Dr. Alec's arms, to be kept there
in the sort of embrace a man gives to the dearest
creature the world'holds for him.
Presently he was in his easy chair with Rose upon
his knee smiling up in his face and talking as fast
as her tongue could go, while he watched her with
an expression of supreme content, as he stroked
the smooth round cheek, or held the little hand in
his, rejoicing to see how rosy was the one, how
plump and strong the other.
Have you had a good time? Did you save
the poor lady? Are n't you glad to be home again
with your girl to torment you ? "
Yes, to all those questions. Now tell me what
you've been at, little sinner? Aunty Plen says
you want to consult me about some new and re-
markable project which you have dared to start in
my absence."
She did n't tell you, I hope ?"
Not a word more except that you were rather
doubtful how I 'd take it, and so wanted to fess '
yourself and get round me as you always try to do,
though you don't often succeed. Now, then, own
up and take the consequences."
So Rose told about her school in her pretty,
earnest way, dwelling on Phebe's hunger for knowl-
edge, and the delight it was to help her, adding
with a wise nod:
"And it helps me too, uncle, for she is so quick
and eager I have to do my best or she will get
ahead of me in some things. To-day, now, she
had the word "cotton" in a lesson and asked all
about it, and I was ashamed to find I really knew
so little that I could only say it was a plant that
grew down South in a kind of a pod, and was
made into cloth. That's what I was reading up
when you came, and to-morrow I shall tell her all
about it, and indigo too. So you see it teaches me

also, and is as good as a general review of what
I've learned, in a pleasanter way than going over it
"You artful little baggage! that's the way you
expect to get round me, is it ? That's not study-
ing, I suppose ? "
No, sir, it's teaching; and please, I like it
much better than having a good time all by myself.
Besides, you know, I adopted Phebe and promised
to be a sister to her, so I am bound to keep my
word, am I not ? answered Rose, looking both
anxious and resolute as she waited for her sen-
Dr. Alec was evidently already won, for Rose
had described the old slate and brown paper copy-
book with pathetic effect, and the excellent man
had not only decided to send Phebe to school long
before the story was done, but reproached himself
for forgetting his duty to one little girl in his love
for another. So when Rose tried to look meek and
failed utterly, he laughed and pinched her cheek,
and answered in that genial way which adds such.
warmth and grace to any favor :
I have n't the slightest objection in the world.
In fact I was beginning to think I might let you go
at your books again, moderately, since you are so
well; and this is an excellent way to try your powers.
Phebe is a brave, bright lass, and shall have a fair
chance in the world, if we can give it to her, so
that if she ever finds her friends they need not be
ashamed of her."
I think she has found some already," began
Rose, eagerly.
Hey? what ? has any one turned up since I've
been gone?" asked Dr. Alec quickly, for it was a
firm belief in the family that Phebe would prove to
be "somebody sooner or later.
No, her best friend turned up when you came
home, uncle," answered Rose with an approving
pat, adding gratefully, I can't half thank you for
being so good to my girl, but she will, because I
know she is going to make a woman to be proud
of,-she's so strong and true and loving."
Bless your dear heart, I have n't begun to do
anything yet, more shame to me! But I'm going
at it now, and as soon as she gets on a bit, she
shall go to school as long as she likes. How will
that do for a beginning ?"
It will be 'just heavenly' as Phebe says, for it
is the wish of her life to get lots of schooling,' and
she will be too happy when I tell her. May I,
please ?-it will be so lovely to see the dear thing
open her big eyes and clap her hands at the
splendid news."
"No one shall have a finger in this nice little
pie; you shall do it all yourself, only don't go too
fast, or make too many castles in the air, my dear;


for time and patience must go into this pie of ours
if it is to turn out well."
Yes, uncle, only when it is opened wont 'the
birds begin to sing?'" laughed Rose, taking a
turn about the room as a vent for the joyful emo-
tions that made her eyes shine. All of a sudden
she stopped and asked soberly:
If Phebe goes to school who will do her work ?
I'm willing, if I can."
Come here and I '11 tell you a secret. Dolly's
'bones' are getting so troublesome, and her dear
old temper so bad that the aunts have decided to
pension her off and let her go and live with her
daughter, who has married very well. I saw her
this week, and she'd like to have her mother come,
so in the spring we shall have a grand change, and
get a new cook and chamber girl if any can be
found to suit our honored relatives."
S" Oh, me! how can I ever get on without
Phebe? Could n't she stay, just so I could see
her? I'd pay her board rather than have her go,
I'm so fond of her."
How Dr. Alec laughed at that proposal, and how
satisfied Rose was when he explained that Phebe
was still to be her maid, with no duties except such
as she could easily perform between school hours !
She is a proud creature, for all her humble
ways, and even from us would not take a favor if
she did not earn it somehow. So this arrangement
makes it all square and comfortable, you see, and
she will pay for the schooling by curling these
goldilocks a dozen times a day if you let her."
Your plans are always so wise and kind!
That's why they work so well I suppose, and why
people let you do what you like with them. I really
don't see how other girls get along without an
Uncle Alec answered Rose, with a sigh of pity
for those who had missed so great a blessing.
When Phebe was told the splendid news, she did
not stand on her head with rapture," as Charlie
prophesied she would, but took it quietly, because
it was such a happy thing she had no words "big
and beautiful enough to thank them in she said;
but every hour of her day was brightened by this
granted wish, and dedicated to the service of those
who gave it.
Her heart was so full of content that it overflowed
in music, and the sweet voice singing all about the
house gave thanks so blithely that no other words
were needed. Her willing feet were never tired of
taking steps for those who had smoothed her way;
her skillful hands were always busy in some labor
of love for them, and on the face fast growing in
comeliness there was an almost womanly expression
of devotion, which proved how well Phebe had
already learned one of life's great lessons, grati-

STEVE, I want you to tell me something," said
Rose to Dandy, who was making faces at him-
self in the glass, while he waited for an answer to
the note he brought from his mother to Aunt
P'r'aps I will, and p'r'aps I wont. What is it ?"
Have n't Arch and Charlie quarreled? "
"Dare say; we fellows are always having little
rows you know. I do believe a stye is coming on
my starboard eye," and Steve affected to be ab-
sorbed in a survey of his yellow lashes.
No, that wont do; I want to know all about it;
for I'm sure something more serious than a 'little
row' is the matter. Come, please tell me, Stenie,
there's a dear."
Botheration you don't want me to turn tell-
tale, do you?" growled Steve, pulling his top-knot,
as he always did when perplexed.
"Yes, I do," was Rose's decided answer-for she
saw from his manner that she was right, and de-
termined to have the secret out of him if coaxing
would do it. "I don't wish you to tell things to
every one, of course, but to me you may, and you
must, because I have a right to know. You boys
need somebody to look after you, and I'm going
to do it, for girls are nice peace-makers, and know
how to manage people. Uncle said so, and he is
never wrong."
Steve was about to indulge in a derisive hoot at
the idea of her looking after them, but a sudden
thought restrained him, and suggested a way in
which he could satisfy Rose, and better himself at
the same time.
What will you give me if I '11 tell you every
bit about it ?" he asked, with a sudden red in his
cheeks, and an uneasy look in his eyes, for he was
half ashamed of the proposition.
"What do you want?" and Rose looked up
rather surprised at his question.
I'd like to borrow some money. I shouldn't
think of asking you, only Mac never has a cent
since he's set up his old chemical shop, where he '11
blow himself to bits some day, and you and uncle
will have the fun of putting him together again,"
and Steve tried to look as if the idea amused him.
"I'll lend it to you with pleasure, so tell away,"
said Rose, bound'to get at the secret.
Evidently much relieved by the promise, Steve
set his top-knot cheerfully erect again, and briefly
stated the case.
As you say, it's all right to tell you, but don't
let the boys know I blabbed, or Prince will take
my head off. You see, Archie don't like some of
the fellows Charlie goes with, and cuts 'em. That




makes Prince mad, and he holds on just to plague
Arch, so they don't speak to one another, if they
can help it, and that's the row."
Are those boys bad ? asked Rose, anxiously.
"Guess not, only rather larky. They are older
than our fellows, but they like Prince, he 's such a
jolly bird; sings so well, dances jigs and break-
downs, you know, and plays any game that's
going. He beat Morse at billiards, and that's

I~ I I iI,

I; i ,' II '
,. ,'
....'&~ii ~ '

i =-- -._. -,_ 2


something to brag of, for Morse thinks he knows
everything. I saw the match, and it was great a
fun St
Steve got quite excited over' the prowess of to
Charlie, whom he admired immensely, and tried
to imitate. Rose did not know half the danger of R<
such gifts and tastes as Charlie's, but felt instinct-
ively that something must be wrong if Archie dis- it
approved, fin
If Prince likes any billiard-playing boy better
than Archie, I don't think much of his sense," she fat
said severely. ag
"Of course he does n't; but, you see, Charlie and ha
Arch are both as proud as they can be, and wont
give in. I suppose Arch is right, but I don't blame bu
Charlie a bit for liking to be with the others some- I':


times, they are such a jolly set," and Steve shook
his head morally, even while his eye twinkled
over the memory of some of the exploits of the
"jolly set."
"Oh, dear me-!" sighed Rose, "I don't see
what I can do about it, but I wish the boys would
make up, for Prince can't come to any harm with
Archie, he's so good and sensible."
"That's the trouble; Arch preaches and Prince


:'' ~'

wont stand it. He told Arch he was
a prig and a parson, and Arch told
him he was n't a gentleman. My
boots! were n't they both mad though!
I thought for a minute they 'd pitch
into one another and have it out.
Wish they had, and not gone stalking
round stiff and glum ever since. Mac
and I settle our rows with a bat or so
over the head, and then we are all

I right."
,I.j Rose could n't help laughing as
Steve sparred away at a fat sofa-pillow,
to illustrate his meaning; and having
given it several scientific whacks he
H 'f pulled down his cuffs and smiled upon
her with benign pity for her feminine
ignorance of this summary way of set-
"ii tling a quarrel.
What droll things boys are! she
Q I said, with a mixture of admiration and
perplexity in her face, which Steve
accepted as. a compliment to his sex.
"We are a pretty clever invention,
miss, and you can't get on without us,"
he answered, with his nose in the air.
Then taking a sudden plunge into
business, he added: "How about that
bit of money you were going to lend
me ? I've told, now you pay up."
Of course I will! How much do you
want ?" and Rose pulled out her purse.
" Could you spare five dollars ? I want to pay a
little debt of honor that is rather pressing," and
eve put on a mannish air that was comical
"Aren't all debts honorable?" asked innocent
" Yes, of course; but this is a bet I made, and
ought to be settled up at once," began Steve,
ding it awkward to explain.
" Oh, don't bet, it's not right, and I know your
her wouldn't like it. Promise you wont do so
ain, please promise! and Rose held fast the
nd into which she had just put the money.
"Well, I wont. It's worried me a good deal,
t I was joked into it. Much obliged, cousin,
m all right now," and Steve departed hastily.


Having decided to be a peace-maker, Rose waited
for an opportunity, and very soon it came.
She was spending the day with Aunt Clara, who
had been entertaining some young guests, and in-
vited Rose to meet them, for she thought it high
time her niece conquered her bashfulness, and saw
a little of society. Dinner was over and every one
had gone. Aunt Clara was resting before going
out to an evening party, and Rose was waiting for
Charlie to come and take her home.
She sat alone in the elegant drawing-room, feel-
ing particularly nice and pretty, for she had her
best frock on, a pair of gold bands her aunt had
just given her, and a tea-rose bud in her sash,
like the beautiful Miss Van Tassel, whom every
one admired. She had spread out her little skirts
to the best advantage, and leaning back in a lux-
urious chair, sat admiring her own feet in new
slippers with distracting rosettes almost as big as
Presently, Charlie came lounging in, looking
rather sleepy and queer, Rose thought. On see-
ing her, however, he roused up and said, with a
smile that ended in a gape:
"I thought you were with mother, so I took
forty winks after I got those girls off. Now, I'm
at your service, Rosamunda, whenever you like."
You look as if your head ached. If it does,
don't mind me. I'm not afraid to run home
alone, it's so early," answered Rose, observing the
flushed cheeks and heavy eyes of her cousin.
I think I see myself letting you do it. Cham-
pagne always makes my head ache, but the air will
set me up."
"Why do you drink it, then?" asked Rose,
"Can't help it, when I 'm host. Now, don't you
begin to lecture; I 've had enough of Archie's old-
fashioned notions, and I don't want any more."
Charlie's tone was decidedly cross, and his whole
manner so unlike his usual merry good nature,
that Rose felt crushed, and answered meekly:
"I wasn't going to lecture, only when people
like other people, they can't bear to see them suffer
That brought Charlie round at once, for Rose's
lips trembled a little, though she tried to hide it
by smelling the flower she pulled from her sash.
I'm a regular bear, and I beg your pardon for
being so cross, Rosy," he said in the old frank
way that was so winning.
I wish you'd beg Archie's too, and be good
friends again. You never were cross when he was
your chum," Rose said, looking up at him as he
bent toward her from the low chimney-piece,
where he had been leaning his elbows.
In an instant he stood as stiff and straight as a

ramrod, and the heavy eyes kindled with an angry
spark as he said in his high and mighty manner:
You 'd better not meddle with what you don't
understand, cousin! "
"But I do understand, and it troubles me very
much to see you so cold and stiff to one another.
You always used to be together, and now you
hardly speak. You are so ready to beg my pardon
I don't see why you can't beg Archie's, if you are
in the wrong."
"I'm not !" this was so short and sharp that
Rose started, and Charlie added in a calmer but
still very haughty tone: "A gentleman always
begs pardon when he has been rude to a lady, but
one man does n't apologize to another man who
has insulted him."
Oh, my heart, what a pepper pot! thought
Rose, and, hoping to make him laugh, she said,
slyly: "I was not talking about men, but boys,
and one of them a Prince, who ought to set a good
example to his subjects."
But Charlie would not relent, and tried to turn
the subject by saying gravely, as he unfastened the
little gold ring from his watch-guard:
"I've broken my word, so I want to give this
back and free you from the bargain. I'm sorry,
but I think it a foolish promise, and don't intend
to keep it. Choose a pair of ear-rings to suit your-
self, as my forfeit. You have a right to wear them
No, I can only wear one, and that is no use,
for Archie will keep his word I 'm sure! Rose
was so mortified and grieved at this downfall of
her hopes that she spoke sharply, and would not
take the ring the deserter offered her.
He shrugged his shoulders, and threw it into her
lap, trying to look cool and careless, but failing
entirely, for he was ashamed of himself, and out of
sorts generally. Rose wanted to cry, but pride
would not let her, and being very angry, she
relieved herself by talk instead of tears. Looking
pale and excited, she rose out of her chair, cast
away the ring, and said in a voice that she vainly
tried to keep steady:
You are not at all the boy I thought you were,
and I don't respect you one bit. I've tried to help
you be good, but you wont let me, and I shall not
try any more. You talk a great deal about being
a gentleman, but you are not, for you 've broken
your word, and I can never trust you again. I
don't wish you to go home with, me. I 'd rather
have Mary. Good-night."
And with that last dreadful blow, Rose walked
out of the room, leaving Charlie as much astonished
as if one of his pet pigeons had flown in his face
and pecked at him. She was so seldom angry,
that when her temper did get the better of her it




875-s EIGHT COUSINS. 733

made a deep impression on the lads, for it was
generally a righteous sort of indignation at some
injustice or wrong-doing, not childish passion.
Her little thunder-storm cleared off in a sob or
two as she put on her things in the entry-closet,
and when she emerged she looked the brighter for
the shower. A hasty good-night to Aunt Clara
-now under the hands of the hair-dresser-and
then she crept down to find Mary the maid. But
Mary was out, so was the man, and Rose slipped
away by the back-door, flattering herself that she
had escaped the awkwardness of having Charlie
for escort.
There she was mistaken, however, for the gate
had hardly closed behind her when a well-known
tramp was heard, and the Prince was beside her,
saying in a tone of penitent politeness that banished
Rose's wrath like magic:
"You needn't speak to me if you don't choose,
but I must see you safely home, cousin."
She turned at once, put out her hand, and an-
swered heartily :
"I was the cross one. Please forgive me, and
let's be friends again."
Now that was better than a dozen sermons on
the beauty of forgiveness, and did Charlie more
good, for it showed him how sweet humility was,
and proved that Rose practiced as she preached.
He shook the hand warmly, then drew it through
his arm and said, as if anxious to recover the good
opinion with the loss of which he had been threat-
Look here, Rosy, I've put the ring back, and
I'm going to try again. But you don't know how
hard it is to stand being laughed at."
"Yes, I do! Ariadne plagues me every time
I see her, because I don't wear ear-rings after all
the trouble I had getting ready for them."
Ah, but her twaddle is n't half as bad as the
chaffing I get. It takes a deal of pluck to hold
out when you are told you are tied to an apron-
string, and all that sort of thing," sighed Charlie.
"I thought you had a 'a deal of pluck,' as you
call it. The boys all say you are the bravest of
the seven," said Rose.
So I am about some things, but I cannot bear
to be laughed at."
It is hard, but if one is right wont that make
it easier? "
"Not to me; it might to a pious parson like
"Please don't call him names I guess he has
what is called moral courage, and you physical
courage. Uncle explained the difference to me,
and moral is the best, though often it does n't look
so," said Rose, thoughtfully.
Charlie didn't like that, and answered quickly,

"I don't believe he'd stand it any better than I
do, if he had those fellows at him."
Perhaps that's why he keeps out of their way,
and wants you to."
Rose had him there, and Charlie felt it, but
would not give in just yet, though he was going
fast, for, somehow, in the dark he seemed to see
things clearer than in the light, and found it very
easy to be confidential when it was "only Rose."
If he was my brother, now, he'd have some
right to interfere," began Charlie, in an injured
I wish he was cried Rose.
"So do I," answered Charlie, and then they
both laughed at his inconsistency.
The laugh did them good, and when Prince
spoke again, it was in a different tone,-pensive,
not proud nor perverse.
"You see, it's hard upon me that I have no
brothers and sisters. The others are better off
and needn't go abroad for chums if they don't
like. Iam all alone, and I'd be thankful even
for a little sister."
Rose thought that very pathetic, and, overlook-
ing the uncomplimentary word "even" in that last
sentence, she said, with a timid sort of earnestness
that conquered her cousin at once:
Play I was a little sister. I know I'm silly, but
perhaps I'm better than nothing, and I'd dearly
love to do it."
"So should I! and we will, for you are not
silly, my dear, but a very sensible girl, we all think,
and I'm proud to have you for a sister. There,
now and Charlie looked down at the curly head
bobbing along beside him, with real affection in
his face.
Rose gave a skip of pleasure, and laid one seal-
skin mitten over the other on his arm, as she said,
That's so nice of you! Now, you need n't be
lonely any more, and I'll try to fill Archie's place
till he comes back, for I know he will, as soon as
you let him."
"Well, I don't mind telling you that while he
was my mate I never missed brothers and sisters,
or wanted any one else; but since he cast me off,
I '11 be hanged if I don't feel as forlorn as old
Crusoe before Friday turned up."
This burst of confidence confirmed Rose in her
purpose of winning Charlie's Mentor back to him,
but she said no more, contented to have done so
well. They parted excellent friends, and Prince
went home, wondering why a fellow did n't mind
saying things to a girl or woman which they would
die before they'd own to another fellow."
Rose also had some sage reflections upon the
subject, and fell asleep thinking that there were a


great many curious things in this world, and feel-
ing that she was beginning to find out some of
Next day she trudged up the hill to see Archie,
and having told him as much as she thought best
about her talk with Charlie, begged him to forget
and forgive.
"I've been thinking that perhaps I ought to,
though I am in the right. I'm no end fond of
Charlie, and he's the best-hearted lad alive; but
he can't say No, and that will play the mischief
with him, if he does not take care," said Archie in
his grave, kind way. While father was home, I
was very busy with him, so Prince got into a set I
don't like. They try to be fast, and think it's
manly, and they flatter him, and lead him on to do
all sorts of things-play for money, and bet, and
loaf about. I hate to have him do so, and tried to
stop it, but went to work the wrong way, so we
got into a mess."
"He is all ready to make up if you don't say
much, for he owned to me he was wrong; but I
don't think he will own it to you, in words," began
I don't care for that; if he'll just drop those
rowdies and come back, I'll hold my tongue and
not preach. I wonder if he owes those fellows
money, and so does n't like to break off till he can
pay it. I hope not, but don't dare to ask; though,
perhaps, Steve knows, he's always after Prince,
more's the pity," and Archie looked anxious.
I think Steve does know, for he talked about
debts of honor the day I gave him ." There
Rose stopped short and turned scarlet.
But Archie ordered her to fess," and had the
whole story in five minutes, for none dared disobey
the Chief. He completed her affliction by putting
a five-dollar bill into her pocket by main force,
looking both indignant and resolute as he said:
"Never do so, again; but send Steve to me, if
he is afraid to go to his father. Charlie had nothing
to do with that; he would n't borrow a penny of a
girl, don't think it. But that's the harm he does
Steve, who adores him, and tries to be like him in
all things. Don't say a word; I '11 make it all
right, and no one shall blame you."
Oh, me! I always make trouble by trying to
help, and then letting out the wrong thing," sighed
Rose, much depressed by her slip of the tongue.
Archie comforted her with the novel remark that
it was always best to tell the truth, and made her
quite cheerful by promising to heal the breach with
Charlie, as soon as possible.
He kept his word so well that the very next
afternoon, as Rose looked out of the window, she
beheld the joyful spectacle of Archie and Prince
coming up the avenue, arm-in-arm, as of old, talk-

ing away as if to make up for the unhappy silence
of the past weeks.
Rose dropped her work, hurried to the door, and
opening it wide stood there smiling down upon
them so happily, that the faces of the lads bright-
ened as they ran up the steps eager to show that
all was well with them.
"Here's our little peace-maker!" said Archie,
shaking hands with vigor.
But Charlie added, with a look that made Rose
very proud and happy," And my little sister."

UNCLE, I have discovered what girls are made
for," said Rose, the day after the reconciliation of
Archie and the Prince.
"Well, my dear, what is it ?" asked Dr. Alec,
who was planking the deck," as he called his
daily promenade up and down the hall.
To take care of boys," answered Rose, quite
beaming with satisfaction as she spoke. Phebe
laughed when I told her, and said she thought
girls had better learn to take care of themselves
first. But that's because she has n't got seven
boy-cousins as I have."
She is right nevertheless, Rosy, and so are
you, for the two things go together, and in helping
seven lads you are unconsciously doing much to
improve one lass," said Dr. Alec, stopping to nod
and smile at the bright-faced figure resting on the
old bamboo chair, after a lively game of battledore
and shuttlecock, in place of a run which a storm
"Am I? I 'm glad of that; but really, uncle,
I do feel as if I must take care of the boys, for
they come to me in all sorts of troubles, and ask
advice, and I like it so much. Only I don't always
know what to do, and I'm going to consult you
privately, and then surprise them with my wis-
"All right, my dear; what's the first worry?
I see you have something on your little mind, so
come and tell uncle."
Rose put her arm in his, and, pacing to and fro,
told him all about Charlie, asking what she could
do to keep him straight, and be a real sister to
Could you make up your mind to go and stay
with Aunt Clara a month ?" asked the Doctor, when
she ended.
"Yes, sir; but I shouldn't like it. Do you
really want me to .go ?"
"The best cure for Charlie is a daily dose of
Rose water, or Rose and water; will you go and see
that he takes it ? laughed Dr. Alec.




You mean that if I'm there and try to make
it pleasant, he will stay at home and keep out of
"But could I make it pleasant? He would
want the boys."
No danger but he'd have the boys, for they
swarm after you like bees after their queen.
Have n't you found that out ? "
"Aunt Plen often says they never used to be
here half so much before I came, but I never
thought I made the difference, it seemed so natural
to have them round."
"Little Modesty doesn't know what a magnet
she is; but she will find it out some day," and the
Doctor softly pinched the cheek that had grown
rosy with pleasure at the thought of being so much
loved. "Now, you see, if I move the magnet to
Aunt Clara's, the lads will go there as sure as iron
to steel, and Charlie will be so happy at home he
wont care for these mischievous mates of his; I
hope," added the Doctor, well-knowing how hard
it was to wean a seventeen-year-old boy from his
first taste of what is called seeing life," which,
alas often ends in seeing death.
"I'll go, uncle, right away! Aunt Clara is
always asking me, and will be glad to get me. I
shall have to dress and dine late, and see lots of
company, and be very fashionable, but I'11 try not
to let it hurt me; and if I get in a puzzle or
worried about anything I can run to you," answered
Rose, good-will conquering timidity.
So it was decided, and, without saying much
about the real reason for this visit, Rose was tran-
splanted to Aunt Clara's, feeling that she had a
work to do, and very eager to do it well.
Dr. Alec was right about the bees, for the boys
did follow their queen, and astonished Mrs. Clara
by their sudden assiduity in making calls, drop-
ping in to dinner, and getting up evening frolics.
Charlie was a devoted host and tried to show his
gratitude by being very kind to his little sister,"
for he guessed why she came, and his heart was
touched by her artless endeavors to help him
be good."
Rose often longed to be back in the old house,
with the simpler pleasures and more useful duties
of the life there; but, having made up her mind,
in spite of Phebe, that girls were made to take
care of boys," her motherly little soul found much
to enjoy in the new task she had undertaken.
It was a pretty sight to see the one earnest, sweet-
faced girl, among the flock of tall lads, trying to
understand, to help and please them with a patient
affection that worked many a small miracle unper-
ceived. Slang, rough-manners, and careless habits
were banished or bettered by the presence of a little

gentlewoman, and all the manly virtues cropping
up were encouraged by the hearty admiration be-
stowed upon them, by one whose good opinion all
valued more than they confessed. While Rose
tried to imitate the good qualities she praised in
them, to put away her girlish vanities and fears,
to be strong and just, and frank and brave as well
as modest, kind and beautiful.
This trial worked so well that when the month
was over, Mac and Steve demanded a visit in their
turn, and Rose went, feeling that she would like to
hear grim Aunt Jane say, as Aunt Clara did at
parting, I wish I could keep you all my life,
After Mac and Steve had had their turn, Archie &
Co. bore her away for some weeks; and with them
she was so happy, she felt as if she would like to
stay forever, if she could have Uncle Alec also.
Of course, Aunt Myra could not be neglected,
and, with secret despair, Rose went to the Mau-
soleum," as the boys called her gloomy abode.
Fortunately, she was very near home, and Dr.
Alec dropped in so often, that her visit was far less
dismal than she expected. Between them, they
actually made Aunt Myra laugh heartily, more
than once; and Rose did, her so much good by
letting in the sunshine, singing about the silent
house, cooking wholesome messes, and amusing
the old lady with funny little lectures on physi-
ology, that she forgot to take her pills, and gave
up "Mum's Elixir," because she slept so well
after the long walks and drives she was beguiled
into taking, that she needed no narcotic.
So the winter flew rapidly away, and it was May
before Rose was fairly settled again at home. They
called her the "Monthly Rose," because she had
spent a month with each of the aunts, and left
such pleasant memories of bloom and fragrance
behind her, that all wanted the family flower back
Dr. Alec rejoiced greatly over his recovered
treasure; but as the time drew near when his
year of experiment ended, he had many a secret
fear that Rose might like to make her home for
the next twelvemonth with Aunt Jessie, or even
Aunt Clara, for Charlie's sake. He said nothing,
but waited with much anxiety for the day when the
matter should be decided; and while he waited he
did his best to finish as far as possible the task he
had begun so well.
Rose was very happy now, being out nearly all
day enjoying the beautiful awakening of the world,
for Spring came bright and early, as if anxious to
do its part. The old horse chestnuts budded
round her windows, green things sprung up like
magic in the garden under her hands, hardy
flowers bloomed as fast as they could, the birds


sang blithely overhead, and every day a chorus of
pleasant voices cried, "Good-morning, cousin,
is n't it jolly weather ?"
No one remembered the date of the eventful
conversation which resulted in the Doctor's experi-
ment (no one but himself at least); so, when the
aunts were invited to tea one Saturday, they came
quite unsuspiciously, and were all sitting together
having a social chat, when Brother Alec entered
with two photographs in his hand.
"Do you remember that?" he said, showing
one to Aunt Clara, who happened to be nearest.
"Yes, indeed; it is very like her when she came.
Quite her sad, unchildlike expression, and thin
little face, with the big, dark eyes."
The picture was passed round, and all agreed
that "it was very like Rose a year ago." This point
being settled, the Doctor showed the second picture,
which was received with great approbation, and
pronounced a charming likeness."
It certainly was, and a striking contrast to the
first one, for it was a blooming, smiling face, full
of girlish spirit and health, with no sign of melan-
choly, though the soft eyes were thoughtful, and
the lines about the lips betrayed a sensitive nature.
Dr. Alec set both photographs on the chimney-
piece, and, falling back a step or two, surveyed
them with infinite satisfaction for several minutes,
then wheeled round, saying briefly, as he pointed
to the two faces:
Time is up; how do you think my experiment
has succeeded, ladies ?"
"Bless me, so it is cried Aunt Plenty, drop-
ping a stitch in her surprise.
Beautifully, dear," answered Aunt Peace, smil-
ing entire approval.
She certainly has improved, but appearances
are deceitful, and she had no constitution to build
upon," croaked Aunt Myra.
I am willing to allow that, as far as mere health
goes, the experiment is a success," graciously
observed Aunt Jane, unable to forget Rose's kind-
ness to her Mac.
So am I; and I'll go farther, for I really do
believe Alec has done wonders for the child; she
will be a beauty in two or three years," added
Aunt Clara, feeling that she could say nothing
better than that.
"I always knew he would succeed, and I'm so
glad you all allow it, for he deserves more credit
than you know, and more praise than he will ever
get," cried Aunt Jessie, clapping her hands with
an enthusiasm that caused Jamie's little red stock-
ing to wave like a triumphal banner in the air.
Dr. Alec. made them a splendid bow, looking
much gratified, and then said soberly :
Thank you; now the question is, Shall I go

on ?-for this is only the beginning. None of you
know the hinderances I've had, the mistakes I've
made, the study I've given the case, and the
anxiety I've often felt. Sister Myra is right in one
thing, Rose is a delicate creature, quick to flourish
in the sunshine, and as quick to droop without it.
She has no special weakness, but inherits her
mother's sensitive nature, and needs the wisest,
tenderest care to keep a very ardent little soul from
wearing out a finely organized little body. I think
I have found the right treatment, and, with you to
help me, I believe we may build up a lovely and
a noble woman, who will be a pride and comfort
to us all."
There Dr. Alec stopped to get his breath, for he
had spoken very earnestly and his voice got a little
husky over the last words. A gentle murmur
from the aunts seemed to encourage him, and he
went on with an engaging smnile, for the good man
was slyly trying to win all the ladies to vote for
him when the time came.
"Now, I don't wish to be selfish or arbitrary,
because I am her guardian, and I shall leave Rose
free to choose for herself. We all want her, and
if she likes to make her home with any of you
rather than with me, she shall do so. In fact, I
encouraged her visits last winter, that she might
see what we can all offer her, and judge where she
will be happiest. Is not that the fairest way?
Will you agree to abide by her choice, as I do ?"
"Yes, we will," said all the aunts, in quite a
flutter of excitement, at the prospect of having
Rose for a whole year.
Good she will be here directly, and then we
will settle the question for another year. A most
important year, mind you, for she has got a good
start and will blossom rapidly now, if all goes well
with her. So I beg of you, don't undo my work,
but deal very wisely and gently with my little girl,
for if any harm come to her, I think it would break
my heart."
As he spoke, Dr. Alec turned his back abruptly
and affected to be examining the pictures again;
but the aunts understood how dear the child was
to the solitary man who had loved her mother
years ago, and who now found his happiness in
cherishing the little Rose who was so like her.
The good ladies nodded and sighed, and tele-
graphed to one another that none of them would
complain if not chosen, or ever try to rob Brother
Alec of his "Heart's Delight," as the boys called
Just then a pleasant sound of happy voices came
up from the garden, and smiles broke out on all
serious faces. Dr. Alec turned at once, saying,
as he threw back his head, There she is; now
for it "




The cousins had been a-T. ;'. :. and soon came
flocking in laden with the spoils.
"Here is our bonny Scotch rose with all her
thorns about her," said Dr. Alec, surveying her
with unusual pride and tenderness, as she went to
show Aunt Peace her basket full of early flowers,
fresh leaves and curious lichens.
"Leave your clatter in the hall, boys, and sit
quietly down if you choose to stop here, for we are
busy," said Aunt Plenty, shaking her finger at the

"You really ought to come to us for mother's
sake, as a relish you know, for she must be per-
fectly satiated with boys," began Archie, using the
strongest argument he could think of at the mo-
Oh, do we'll never slam, or bounce at you
or call you fraid cat,' if you only will," besought
Geordie and Will, distorting their countenances in
the attempt to smile with overpowering sweetness.
"And I 'll always wash my hands 'fore I touch


turbulent clan, who were bubbling over with the
jollity born of Spring sunshine and healthy exercise.
Of course, we choose to stay Would n't miss
our Saturday high tea for anything," said the
Chief, as he restored order among his men with a
nod, a word, and an occasional shake.
What is up ? a court-martial ? asked Charlie,
looking at the assembled ladies with affected awe
and real curiosity, for their faces betrayed that
some interesting business was afloat.
Dr. Alec explained -in a few words, which he
made as brief and calm as he could; but the effect
was exciting nevertheless, for each of the lads be-
gan at once to bribe, entice and wheedle "our
cousin" to choose his home.
VOL. II.-48.

you, and you shall be my dolly,'cause Pokey's gone
away, and I '11 love you hard," cried Jamie, cling-
ing to her with his chubby face full of affection.
"Brothers and sisters ought to live together;
especially when the brother needs some one to
make home pleasant for him," added Charlie, with
the wheedlesome tone and look that Rose always
found so difficult to resist.
You had her longest and its our turn now;
Mac needs her more than you do, Prince, for
she's 'the light of his eyes,' he says. Come, Rose,
choose us and I'll never use the musky pomade
you hate again as long as I live," said Steve, with
his most killing air, as he offered this noble


Mac peered wistfully over his goggles, saying in
an unusually wide-awake and earnest way:
Do, cousin, then we can study chemistry to-
gether. My experiments don't bust up very often
now, and the gases are n't at all bad when you get
used to them."
Rose meantime had stood quite still, with the
flowers dropping from her hands as her eyes went
from one eager face to another, while smiles rip-
pled over her own at the various enticements
offered her. During the laugh that followed Mac's
handsome proposition, she looked at her uncle,
whose eyes were fixed on her with an expression of
love and longing that went to her heart.
"Ah yes," she thought, "he wants me most !
I've often longed to give him something that he
wished for very much, and now I can."
So, when, at a sudden gesture from Aunt Peace,
silence fell, Rose said slowly, with a pretty color
in her cheeks, and a beseeching look about the
room, as if asking pardon of the boys:
"It's very hard to choose when everybody is so
fond of me; therefore I think I'd better go to the
one who seems to need me most."
"No, dear, the one you love the best and will
be happiest with," said Dr. Alec quickly, as a dole-
ful sniff from Aunt Myra, and a murmur of "My
sainted Caroline," made Rose pause and look that
Take time, cousin; don't be in a hurry to make
up your mind, and remember, 'Codlin 's your
friend,' added Charlie, hopeful still.
I don't want any time! I know who I love

best, who I'm happiest with, and I choose uncle.
Will he have me ?" cried Rose, in a tone that pro-
duced a sympathetic thrill among the hearers, it
was so full of tender confidence and love.
If she really had any doubt, the look in Dr.
Alec's face banished it without a word, as he
opened wide his arms, and she ran into them, feel-
ing that home was there.
No one spoke for a minute, but there were signs
of emotion among the aunts, which warned the
boys to bestir themselves before the water-works
began to play. So they took hands and began to
prance about uncle and niece, singing, with sudden
inspiration, the nursery rhyme-
"Ring around a Rosy!"
Of course that put an end to all sentiment, and
Rose emerged laughing from Dr. Alec's bosom,
with the mark of a waistcoat button nicely im-
printed on her left cheek. He saw it and said with
a merry kiss that half effaced it, This is my ewe
lamb, and I have set my mark on her, so no one
can steal her away."
That tickled the boys and they set up a shout of
"Uncle had a little lamb!"

But Rose hushed the noise by slipping into the
circle, and making them dance prettily-like lads
and lasses round a May-pole; while Phebe, coming
in with fresh water for the flowers, began to
twitter, chirp and coo, as if all the birds of the air
had come to join in the Spring revel of the Eight




YES, Mrs. Brown, I've had a lovely visit;
I always have, whenever I come here.
Your Katy entertains so very nicely-
I mean it, 'pon my honor, Katy dear!

I truly don't know where the time has vanished;
It gave me quite a funny sort of shock
To find my visit done, and find, moreover,
There was n't any trouble with your clock !



So now I think I'd better get my things on.
Yes, Katy, I must go; for don't you see,
Mamma this morning told me when I started:
"Bessie, you'd better be at home by three."

You ask me if I'd like to stay to dinner?
(I knew that nice smell came from roasting meat.)
Oh, no, I thank you, Mrs. Brown, I could n't.
(They do have such delightful things to eat!)

You say you're sure mamma will not be worried ?
And Katy wants me so? and little Will?
You really wish I'd stay? Well, since you urge me,
Why, thank you, Mrs. Brown, I think I will.

I hope my conduct does n't seem peculiar-
But, then, mamma said, when I went away:
"Now mind that you don't stay to dinner, Bessie,
Unless they urge you very much to stay."



BEFORE Columbus sailed so bravely off out of
sight of land, to discover the half of the world that
he felt sure was on the other side, people had very
queer ideas about the countries that were beyond
Europe. Animals so strange were thought to in-
habit them, that almost any story a traveler chose
to tell would be believed.
Such creatures as Basilisks, Griffins, Mermaids,
Sirens, Harpies, Centaurs, Unicorns, Phcenixes
and Dragons, were never seen by any one; but
they were written about in poems and stories, and
some of them were used in this way to express
various symbolic meanings, so that, in writing at
least, it seemed difficult to get on without them.
One of the most absurd of these animals was


This was a most unpleasant creature in every
way, and not one that could possibly be made a
pet of. People were silly enough to believe that it
came from an egg laid by a very old cock and
hatched by a toad, and that it had a cock's head
and wings, a lizard's body and tail, eight feet, and
wore a kingly crown as monarch of all the ser-

pents and dragons, who ran away whenever it
came near them. It's breath was poison, and the
fearful glare of its eyes killed both animals and
men whenever they encountered it.
The Basilisk, sometimes called the Cockatrice,

* I...



lived in the deserts of Africa; it could only live in a
desert, for its dreadful breath burned up everything
that grew, and no animal would venture near it
except the weasel, who would bravely fight with it.
The weasel got the better of the Basilisk by eating



an herb called rue, which poisoned the monster
when it bit him--but the poor little weasel always
died too.
When the Basilisk was dead and burned to ashes,
people took a little comfort in it, for the ashes were
said to turn all kinds of metal into gold; and it
would seem almost worth while to have a live
Basilisk about for the chance of getting a dead one.

This animal was more absurd than frightful, and
looked very much like a large horse, with one im-
mense horn on its forehead. This horn was white
at the bottom, black in the middle, and red at the
tip. The Unicorn's beauty was further improved
by having a white body, a red head, and blue eyes.
It was said to run faster than any horse; and in



spite of its queer appearance, it was a very aristo-
cratic quadruped and a stanch supporter of the
British crown.
In the arms of Great Britain it stands on one
side and the lion on the other. The Unicorn has
appeared in poetry, too-for we all know the
famous lines:
The lion and the unicorn
Were fighting for the crown;
The lion beat the unicorn
All about the town.

These were even more agreeable objects to look
upon than Unicorns; and in pictures they gener
ally have a comb in one hand and a mirror in the
other, as if they were always "doing up their
long hair-which never gets done up after all,
but hangs down their backs. Sailors and fisher-
men always believed in Mermaids-who were sup-
posed to live in the sea, and to have bodies that
were half woman and half fish. But a long, scaly,

forked tail is not very ornamental, and they always
tried to keep this out of the way.
The faces of these strange creatures were said

*_ I. -1


to be very beautiful, and the fishermen of those
early times often declared that they had seen and
talked with Mermaids, who would invite them to
go with them to their homes at the bottom of the
ocean. But those who went were always drowned
of course.
Their cousins, the Sirens, were more dangerous
than the Mermaids, for they sang such exquisite
melodies that whoever heard them had to follow
whether he would or not; and down in their ocean
caves were said to be many bones whitening among
the corals-all that remained of the poor dazed
sailors and fishermen who had thrown themselves
overboard at the sound of that strange melody.

This is another creature with the head of a
woman, but with the body, legs and wings of a
vulture, which is the most hateful of birds. The
Harpies were always hungry, and were not at all

,t~c `=" _- ,

I r


particular as to how they got their food; there is a
story of a poor blind man, named Phineas, whose
meals were snatched away by these ravenous thieves



_ --- .._




~ i I ',


as soon as they were spread for him. But when he
promised to join the Argonauts, who were going
in quest of the Golden Fleece, they drove the
Harpies away.
These Harpies were very disagreeable in every
way, and in Greece it was believed that the gods
sent them forth to punish people for their sins.

THE Roc.

This was a monstrous bird which was said to in-
habit an island in the Chinese sea. In the "Ara-
bian Nights Sinbad the Sailor has a great deal to
say about this strange creature, whose size and
strength were so great that it could carry one ele-
phant in its beak and another in each of its talons.
Pictures generally represent it in this way; and the
elephants look as meek as kittens, sailing through
the air in this unpleasant style. The three were
probably devoured in the course of the day. A
Roc egg was said to be like an enormous white
dome, and as firm as a mountain.


The Dolphin made a very pleasant variety in the
list of unreal creatures-as it was delightful in
every way. Very much larger than the common
dolphin or porpoise, the Dolphin of fable was
thoroughly good-natured and obliging, and always
swimming about and showing its pretty colors.

The supposed home of the Dolphins was in the
Grecian seas; they were said to have many human
tastes, as they were very fond of music, could be
easily tamed, and became very fond of their mas-
ters. They would let children ride on their backs;


--- Ci i -^


and this must have been even more exciting than
riding on an elephant, or driving a pair of goats.
These Dolphins were very affectionate; and a story
is told of one, in the reign of the Emperor Augustus,
which carried a boy to school every morning. But
after a while the lad died, and the faithful Dolphin
watched for him on the shore day after day-until,
finding that he did not come, it pined away and
expired of grief.


The Centaur, or bull-killer, was half man and
half horse; and pictures usually represent it shoot-

Flx_=' _,II-~-~-~-~-~-


~' ThC \ '

-- ..Th9 -4

-~ ~ i: ,,.z
-~ r Y


<12- ;''


These colors were said to be brighter than ever ing with a bow and arrow. They were said -to
when it was dying, and some poet has written of be wild and savage, of a great size, covered with
" the hues of the dying Dolphin." hair, and living in the forests and mountains.





" ~~^


There were real men in Thessaly, a province of
Greece, who spent most of their time on horseback
hunting bulls; and it is thought that the fable of
the Centaurs had its origin in them.
Although a great improvement on the Harpy
and some other monsters, the Centaur could not be
a very agreeable companion; and no one will be
sorry that there never was such a creature.

Nothing can be said in favor of this ugly-tem-
pered monster. It was always in a passion, and
had a most unpleasant habit of vomiting fire from
its head and its tail-which prevented its ever
being crowded for room, as no creature cared to go
near it. It seemed to be a sort of live volcano; in
form very much like a crocodile, with the addition

._ >--

a \ 1 -
, -,

of wings, collar and ears. Its neck, however, was
long and snake-like, and it had the feet of a lizard,
with claws.
These horrible monsters went about destroying
everything in their path, and would often lay a
whole country desolate, so that brave knights some-
times set forth to slay them and rid the land of such
a pest. They were terrible enemies to fight with,
and only good men could overcome them.
You remember hearing of St. George, the patron
saint of England, and of the ferocious Dragon which
he killed after a hard battle. One of these creatures
in Africa was said to have driven back the whole
Roman army.
It is thought that the Dragon was a type of
Satan, or the power of evil.


thyosaurus" or Megatherium," or some of those
other great creatures that lived before the flood;


for one Griffin was said to be larger and stronger
than a hundred eagles, so that it could carry, while
flying to its nest, a large horse or even two oxen
yoked together as they stood at the plow. Its
claws were as large as the horns of oxen, so that
drinking-cups were made of them. Its head, wings
and feet were those of an eagle, and its body that
of a lion.
Stone Griffins are often seen in old churches,
and on the pillars of old gate-ways; for a place
that was guarded by such a powerful creature was
in no danger of being invaded. So the figure
of a Griffin came to represent strength and vigil-
Griffins' eggs were considered very valuable, and
were made into large goblets; but it is probable
that these eggs were really laid by ostriches.

But the most interesting of all these fabulous
creatures is the Phmcnix-a bird, but very differ-



How do you like its picture? ent from the Roc. It was exceedingly beautiful,
It ought to have had a long name like "Ich- as large as an eagle, with a plumage that shone


875s.J HOW IT WENT'. 743

like gold around its neck, then be found in the ashes
a purple body, and a tail on the altar, and on the sec-
of blue and rose-colored -.ond day after it appeared it
feathers. It had a cock's '--- would be transformed into
comb under its neck, and ---' a bird, and in one day after
a magnificent crest. This that, or the third day after
splendid-looking bird was the burning, the Phoenix
supposed to live five hun- would be itself again and
dred years, and then burn ..would go off in fine spirits,
itself, to rise from the ashes and in new clothes that
young, strong, and more vere warranted to last for
beautiful than ever. five hundred years.
An old writer gives a / These are a few of the
long account of this new more common animals of
birth of the Phonix, which fable; there were a great
always took place at Heli- many others, for, after be-
opolis, the City of the Sun. TE HX. ginning to invent such
A priest made a fire of spices creatures, it was very easy
on the altar, and the bird flew into the flames and to create new ones, but for the present we will
was burned with the spices. A small worm would take our leave of un-natural history.



WYATT and Snaps were cousins-their fathers
were brothers. Snaps' real name was Horace
Brownell; but when he was a very little fellow
without suspenders, he took to living almost en-
tirely on ginger-snaps.
So his papa, who was a joker, began calling him
Snaps; and then his mother took to calling him
Snaps, because she was very apt to do what his papa
did. Then his sisters, Mamie and Fanny, com-
menced calling him Snaps, because they always
tried to imitate mamma, except when she did such
things as mending and dusting. Then Mamie's
and Fanny's playmates said Snaps instead of
Horace; and so the matter grew until everybody
called him Snaps, and almost nobody remembered
that he had any other name.
The Winter that Snaps was twelve years old, his
father agreed to pay him eight dollars for the job
of keeping the walks about the house cleared of
snow. When Snaps told his cousin Wyatt about
this agreement, Wyatt insisted upon making with
his father a like arrangement.
Thus it came to pass, that about the last of
March each of the cousins had the magnificent
sum of eight dollars. The question for us to con-
sider is, how it went.

Of course, some of it-not much, however-went
on April-fools' day. Then some of it went kiting.
Spring brings kites just as surely as it brings swal-
lows. Snaps and Wyatt undertook to get up some
fancy rigs-" Great Easterns" they were to be
among kites. They were to be nearly as large
as Mr. Showers' barn-door, which was a very large
door. The boys got a carpenter to make the
kite-frames. Then they bought some strong, hand-
some paper, some gum-stick-'em (as they called
the mucilage), and a great deal of strong string.
I don't know but that they expected their kites to
fly to the moon. They were very handsome affairs
when finished. Wyatt's had a gilt star blazing
like gold in the center; while Snaps' carried a
crescent moon in silver.
The flying of the kites took place one bright
Saturday morning at nine o'clock, amid the assem-
bled boys and girls of the village. You would
have thought, from the eager talk and the eager
faces, that two balloons were going up from the
Square, for the spectators were by no means con-
fined to children. Men stood in their shop-doors,
and even on the Square; while women waited on
the side-walks or gazed from their windows.
The kites behaved beautifully. They rose grace-


fully and steadily up and up and up, looking, with
their scarlet and gold, like two magnificent tropical
birds. One could scarcely put his head out-doors
that day without seeing those bright wings sailing
against the sky, and each time, doubtless, at the
end of the string was a different pair of hands-
now a boy's, now a girl's-for Snaps and Wyatt let
all the children take turns, until all had felt the
strong pull of the monsters.
When I tell you how Wyatt and Snaps spent the
next money, I think you will laugh. They invested
it in a razor and some shaving-soap. What for?
Well, they wanted some whiskers, you see.
After this investment, each of the capitalists
bought a bottle of cologne. The following day,
Wyatt said, as the two were walking home from
school: I say, Snaps, is n't that Bob Davidson
the leanest, hollow-eyedest feller that your eyes
ever lit on ?"
He is so; and I 'll tell you what 't is, Wyatt,"
Snaps said, I don't believe he gets enough to
eat. He always looks hungry to me."
Let's treat him," said Wyatt, briskly.
Say we do," Snaps answered just as briskly.
"Hello, Bob come here !" Wyatt called back
to Bob, who was walking behind them. Come
into this grocery ; we 're going to treat you."
Law is yer ?" said Bob, coming up on a trot,
grinning all over. "You all's mighty commer-
Bob Davidson was a black boy, you understand.
The three boys stepped into the store.
What '11 you take? Wyatt asked. What do
you like best ?"
Bob rolled his great white eyes all about the
store, among the boxes and barrels and baskets.
Then he turned them up to the ceiling in profound
meditation. Then he studied the floor, and again
looked all around the store, his lank body slowly
revolving as on a pivot.
What 'll you take ? Snaps repeated. What
do you like best ? "
Bob, as if about to take a fatal plunge, drew a
long breath, rolled his eyes from the boys to the
smiling shopman, smacked his lips, giggled, and
answered, "'Lasses."
Wyatt and Snaps burst out laughing; but they
had the grocer fill Bob's dinner-pail with the thing
he liked best.
This brings us to the grand speculation. One
Saturday morning, the cousins were on the Square
playing marbles, when they saw a farm-wagon
passing with ever so many baskets of strawberries.
How do you sell your strawberries?" Wyatt
called. The man did not hear, but went rattling on.
"Ho, there !" shouted Snaps; "'what's the
price of your berries ? "

Both boys now ran after the farmer, calling for
him to stop, which he did after a time.
Twenty cents the basket," replied the farmer,
lifting the grape-leaves from one basket and an-
other of the scarlet beauties. Just picked this
morning," he added.
The boys climbed upon the wheels, and looked
longingly at the fruit.
Let you have three baskets for half-a-dollar.'


"What'll you take for the lot ?" Wyatt couldn't
have told to save his teeth why he asked this ques-
tion. He had no more thought of buying the
whole lot than he had of buying out the circus that
was expected next week.
Well, let's see," said the farmer; but instead
of seeing, he shut his eyes up close, and bent his
forehead on his hand. They's thirty-five baskets.
I '11 let ye hev the hull uv um fer four dollars, seeing'
it's you ; that's less 'n a shillin' the basket. That's



dreadful cheap, an' I would n't let ye hev um fer
no sich money ef ye wus men an' women. But
bein' ye're boys, ye kin take um. Ye kin easy git
twenty-two cents the basket. I 'd git that ef I had
time to wait on the sales ; but, ye see, I want to git
back to hum. I've got a lot uv young beets that's
that full uv weeds they're nigh choked to death.
I want to git hum to weed um 'fore Sunday, else
the weeds 'lt git clean the start uv me. Weeds
don't keep no Sunday, ye know; 'pears like they
growed twice't as fast Sunday as week-days, any-
how. Ye kin hev the hull lot fer four dollars," he
repeated, "an' that's just givin' um away. Ye'11
double your money 'fore sundown."
Say we take 'em," said Wyatt.
"All right," was Snaps' answer.
Then the subject of the baskets came up; so the
boys promised solemnly to leave them, when emp-
tied, at Mr. Nodler's grocery, where the farmer
would call for them. Then Wyatt ran over to the
savings bank to draw the money.
Well, the money was paid, and the strawberries
were delivered on the side-walk. After discussing
matters, the boys agreed, in the first place, to eat
each a basket of the berries. Then they decided
to set up a stand on the corner of the Square for
the sale of the remainder. Wyatt borrowed one
chair from his father's office, which was near at
hand, and another from his mother's kitchen, which
was quite removed.
By the way, while at home he offered his mother
the whole or any part of the thirty-three baskets
at twenty-two cents. But she had already bought
six baskets that day at eighteen cents. Then
Wyatt offered his at eighteen cents for canning;
but it was baking-day and churning-day, and the
mother decided that she could not possibly take
any additional work. This was a disappointment
to Wyatt, for he had confidently reckoned on dis-
posing of a dozen baskets to his mother. Snaps'
mother was out of town.
The speculators borrowed a plank ; this, resting
on the chairs, made the stand for the baskets.
These were speedily put in artistic and tempting
array. Then the boys wiped their hands and faces,
combed their hair with their fingers, touched up
their neck-ties, straightened themselves up, and
made ready for the rush of customers with which
they would be assailed. They sauntered about the
plank, sniffing at the berries, occasionally eating
one, looking meanwhile up and down the street for
customers. A half-hour went slowly by.
"Yonder comes Billy Barlow," said Snaps. "I'11
bet he'll want to trade his old barlow-knife for
some berries. He 's been trying' for a year to get
somebody to trade something or oiier for that old
broken-bladed, rickerty knife."

Billy Barlow's right name was William Williams,
but, as Snaps had said, he had a barlow-knife. It
was the only thing in the world over which he had
undisputed control. The one blade was broken
and the rivets were loose. But Billy ever had it on
display, and was ever trying to trade it for any con-
ceivable boy-property. Hence his schoolmates had
given him the name of Billy Barlow.
Why, what sights of strawberries exclaimed
B. B. "Are they your'n?"-and he ran his
hungry eye up and down the double line of bas-
Of course they're ours," replied Snaps, with
quiet superiority.
Goin' to sell 'em?"
"Of course," said Snaps, in like superiority.
" We did n't buy them to give away," he added,
by way of forestalling a possible request.
"How much are they?" asked Billy Barlow,
with his hand in his ragged pocket.
Twenty-two cents a basket," and then Snaps
winked at Wyatt, as much as to say, Look out
now for the barlow-knife."
That's what I ask for a knife I've got," said
B. B., rummaging around for the said article, amid
the balls and strings and marbles and slate-pencils
which a boy's pocket is sure to hold.
Here 't is," he said, directly holding out the
knife before Snaps' eyes.
I've seen it before," said Snaps coolly, looking
away down the street.
I '11 swop it for one of them baskets of straw-
I don't think you will," Wyatt answered.
It's a first-rate knife," said B. B., with the sad
light of disappointment in his eyes.
Snaps whispered a few words in the ear of his.
All right," Wyatt answered aloud.
Look here, Barlow," Snaps said; "I don't
want your knife-I would n't give it pocket-room.
You've tried to trade it to every boy in this town.
We're all tired hearing about that old barlow.
Now, if you '11 throw it as far as you can send it,
we '11 give you a basket of berries."
It's a bargain," said Billy Barlow.
He placed himself in position, and threw the
knife half-way across the Square.
All right; take your basket," Snaps said, with
a good feeling at his heart.
Billy walked down one side of the plank and up
the other. Then he picked out the basket which
seemed the nearest full and to have the largest,
ripest berries. With this he walked off in the
direction in which his knife had gone. A few days
after, he was discovered trying to trade it to a little
girl for a half-stick of liquorice.


But that Saturday morning he met, a little way
on his walk (or run, rather), Bob Davidson. Of
course, he told Bob about the strawberries, and,
of course, Bob took a bee-line across the Square for
the strawberry plank.
It was during the war, and Bob Davidson had
been from the South only a few weeks. All the
schooling with which the town had been able'to in-
oculate him during that period had not sufficed to
cure his Southern dialect.
Law what's you all got dar? Bob asked,
his hungry eyes looking hungrier than ever Billy's
had looked, as they ran along the bright line of

i 1

y It


'-- = -' =


baskets. Law is you all gwine to hab a straw-
berry festibul fer Mass Linkum's soldiers an' de
countryban's ?"
No, we aint," Wyatt answered in a bluff way.
"We're goin' to sell 'em for twenty-two cents a
Strawberries would tas' mighty good 'long wid
dem dar 'lasses you all gim me. You all's de
p'lites' boys in town, show's I's baun."
Here Snaps said in an undertone to Wyatt: I
never saw anybody want strawberries so bad in my
life. Let's give him a basket."
Bob's great eyes, rolling from one face to the

other, plainly discerned that the boys were pleased
with his compliment.
I aint got no money dis berry minit, but ef you
all gim me some strawberries, I'11 gim you all
sumpum-will so."
What '11 you give us ?" Wyatt asked.
Bob thrust one hand in his one pocket, and as-
sumed the meditative attitude of a philosopher.
What '11 you give ?" urged Wyatt, after a pause
long enough for Bob to make an inventory of a
very extensive personal property.
Sumpum mighty good," said the non-com-
mittal Bob.
But what? persisted Wyatt. You must tell
us, or we can't trade."
Bob took another meditative attitude, and rolled
his eyes in a frantic way, as if he was trying to see
something very difficult to find.
What'll you give us?" This question again
urgently assailed him.
I tell yer," said Bob, with the air of one who
has reached the solution of a difficult problem.
" I'll take de berries long to de house" (to his
home, he meant); "den I'll fotch de what-you-
may-call-it straight back,-wish I may die ef I
don't !"
The boys had soft places in their hearts for Bob;
they were aching to give him a basket, so they
agreed to his proposal, and he bore away the
The next customer was Miss Burchett. She was
a tall, thin woman, with steel-colored eyes and
iron-gray hair. She wore a Shaker bonnet with a
brown silk skirt to it, and her calico dress was very
stiffly starched.
"I heard you had strawberries; are they per-
fectly fresh and perfectly ripe ? "
She asked this much as a lawyer would cross-
examine a witness. Both boys were scared and
subdued by her manner.
"Yes, ma'am," Wyatt meekly answered to her
How do you know they are ?" she asked in the
same lawyer-like tone.
The man said they were."
All this time, Miss Burchett was turning one
basket and another against a plate she carried,
inspecting the berries through her gold-bowed
glasses, smelling at each lot, and doing what
seemed to the boys a most unnecessary amount of
What man ?" she asked.
The man we bought them from," Wyatt an-
And who is he ? What's his name? "
I don't know. ma'am."
Then I don't want your berries," Miss Burchett




said with emphasis. I never buy any berries
unless I know who picked them ; nor any butter,
or milk, or sausages, or anything, unless I know
who made it. I 'm very particular about my eat-
ing. I do wish I did n't ever have to eat any
victuals that other folks had been performing over."
With this speech, she transferred a few other fine
berries from the baskets to her mouth, and took
her departure.
I wonder if she has to be introduced to the
hens before she'll eat their eggs?" Snaps said, with
a petulant sneer.
She yarns, anyhow," Wyatt suggested, "'cause
how can she know who makes the sugar and coffee,
and tea and flour, and lots of things she eats?
She kept eatin' strawberries all the while, anyhow.
She's mean and stuck-up, too."
Here comes Mrs. Pulsifer," said Snaps. She's
deaf, you know; you'll have to split your throat to
make her hear."
How d' ye do, little dears ?" said Mrs. Pulsifer,
smiling and giving a funny little curtsy.
We 're well." Wyatt delivered this reply with
such a shout, that a man across the street turned
and stared about.
She talks as if we were babies," Snaps said in
an undertone of contempt to Wyatt, thinking,
meanwhile, of the razor and shaving-soap hid away
in his chamber-closet.
How do you sell your berries ?" asked Mrs.
Pulsifer, still smiling, and hollowing her hand to
her ear to receive the answer.
Twenty-two cents," Wyatt said, with more
moderation of tone.
"Thirty-two cents ? I'll give you thirty," said
the smiling old lady.
I said twenty-two cents," said Wyatt.
Oh twenty-two cents I'll give you twenty."
Mrs. Pulsifer delighted above all things on earth
to make a bargain-to get things for less than other
people gave.
When the boys had agreed to her offer, she pro-
posed to take two baskets for thirty-five cents, and,
when they had again acceded, she offered sixty
cents for four baskets. The partners accepted this
offer, and then she was afraid, as it was Saturday,
that she could n't use more than one basket.
Four baskets at sixty will make fifteen for
one." She opened her purse. I 've just got
fourteen cents in change," she said; "but you
don't mind about one cent, I know," and she smiled
blandly as she laid the money on the plank. Then
she helped herself to the best basket she could pick
Snaps felt mad enough to cry, and might have
cried if two boys and a small girl had n't just then
come on the ground. These were soon joined by


two girls and a small boy. Things began to look
brisk--business prospects to brighten. Indeed, the
children generally had got wind of the strawberry-
stand on the Square, and they were beginning to
gather from all quarters, like yellow-jackets about
a molasses-jug. Big boys were seen hurrying
toward the attractive spot, with their little brothers
running and crying in the vain endeavor of keep-
ing up; large girls came, impatiently tugging their
little sisters. Soon there were assembled over two
dozen children about the strawberry-stand.
Now we 'll begin to haul in the money," Snaps
The children gazed and talked, and walked
around the plank, and counted the baskets, and
" hefted" them, and tasted the berries to see if
they were fresh, and to see if they were ripe, and
to see if they were sweet, and to see if they were
tart, and to see if they would make good short-
cake, and if they would make good pies, and if
they were good for jam, and if they were good for
strawberry-vinegar, and to see if they were as
good as some we bought," and for a dozen other
Snaps and Wyatt inwardly chafed, but they felt
ashamed to complain of their friends for taking
a few berries.
After an impatient while, the noon-bell rang.
There were some farewell peckings at the baskets,
and then the flock of black-birds flew away, and
left the two speculators to survey the ground.
They walked along the side of their plank, each
mentally taking stock. There was not a full basket
left. Not one had escaped depredations-some
were nearly empty.
They 're thieves and robbers," said Snaps, in-
dignantly. I wish I'd called a policeman."
Snaps," Wyatt said, we're busted. No use
dodging; we're busted. There aint more 'n seven
baskets left. What 're we going to do about it ?"
Let's sell out," Snaps flashed brightly.
Sell out to who ?" Wyatt asked, in a tone of
infinite contempt.
Let's eat 'em," said Snaps.
That would bust us sure," Wyatt replied, at-
tempting a joke.
It 's 'most dinner-time at our house," Snaps
said, in a discouraged tone.
And it 's 'most dinner-time at our house,"
Wyatt added, impatiently; "but I aint goin' to
whine about it."
He felt sore about his speculation, and he was
glad of a chance to scold at somebody.
"The last of our money's in them berries."
Snaps looked mournfully at the baskets.
Wyatt answered shortly: Well, can't we- earn
some more ? "


I don't think we got much good out of our
money." Snaps felt very melancholy.
Then both boys fell to thinking how the money
had gone.
We aint got anything to show for it but them
two empty cologne-bottles, and that old razor that
we dare n't let anybody see," said Snaps.
We 've had lots of fun, though."
And lots of other folks have had fun out of it,
too. And we've treated. Seems to me I'd rather
treat than do anything else. Don't it make you
feel good to treat ?"
Yes; I always feel like whistling when I treat,"
Wyatt said. But I do wish I knew what to do
with these miserable old strawberries." He was
getting hungry, and wanted his dinner.
Let's treat with them," Snaps brilliantly sug-
gested. He, too, wanted his dinner; he'd been
hankering after it for an hour.
Who'11 we treat?"
I'll tell you; we'll take 'em to Africa, and
give 'em to the little darkies."
Say we do," Wyatt assented.
Africa was that part of the town where the col-
ored people were congregated.
The boys borrowed a pail of Mr. Nodler, in
which they emptied all the berries. The baskets

were stacked and taken to the grocery, according
to agreement with the farmer. After eating their
dinners, they proceeded together to Africa. Here
they went from shanty to shanty, distributing the
berries, and almost laughing themselves wild at the
funny little negroes. As they suddenly turned a
corner, they collided with Bob Davidson.
Laws a massy said Bob; I wus jis gwine
to fotch it to you all. Here 't is," and he extended
before the boys' eyes a bottle with about a gill of
some dark liquid in it.
What is it ? said Wyatt.
What in the world is it ?" said Snaps.
Mammy did n't hab nuffin else nice nuff to
pay you all fer dem dar strawberries. Yer see, we
all los' all our prop'ty by dem rebul soldiers."
"But tell us what 't is," Wyatt said, turning
the bottle over and examining it in every light.
Law! don't you all know? It's jis a few uv
dem dar 'lasses," said Bob, grinning and licking
out his tongue.
You ought to have seen those boys laugh !
Snaps said, in telling of it afterward, that he really
thought at one time that he was splitting.
The boys gave the bottle back to Bob, and de-
livered to him also the remainder of the berries:
and with these went the last of their money.

V'Sr -
'3 .-.- --'









_'-' R. R OCKAWAY, being asked to
Sell one of his "ten-minute"
S 1' stories, said: If it will content
S'-.-.. Iyou, I will tell you a Potato
: story which begins with a
S Bean-pole.
"Once there was.a Bean-
pole which was stuck into the
S ground by the side of a Potato-
S hill.
Dear me !' cried a young
Cabbage growing near, 'what
a stiff, pokey thing that is!
And of no earthly use, stand-
ing there doing nothing !'
"But very soon a Scarlet
Bean, running about in search
of something to climb upon,
found this same Bean-pole.
'All right !' cried the hap-
S! py little Bean. 'You are the
0 1. 1 very thing I want. Now I'll
begin my Summer's work.'
1 'Well, to be sure !' cried
young Cabbage. 'Everything
comes to some use at last.
But who would have thought
o it?'
"The Scarlet Bean was a
spry little thing. She ran up
that pole just as easy Being
of a lively turn, she began, at
last, to make fun of the Potato-plant.
'How sober you are!' said she. 'Why don't
you try to brighten up and look more blooming ?'
The poor Potato-plant, though doing her best,
could only show a few pale blooms.

. ~a!,-,-'-..... -- :1 -^ -
_ .--"- "21 .- .-,

You don't mean to call those things flowers ?'
cried the frisky Bean. 'Just look at my beautiful
blossoms !'-and she held up a spray of .bright
"The Potato-plant kept quiet.
'What stupid, useless things,' said young Cab-
bage, 'those Potato-plants are! and how much
room they take up 1'
Summer passed. The Bean began to fill her
pods, and proud enough she was of them.
Why don't you do something?' she cried to
the Potato-plant, down below. 'Only see what I've
done There's a Summer's work for you !' And
sure enough she had hung her full pods all up and
down the pole.
"'Yes, why don't you do something?' cried
Cabbage. 'Your Summer is gone, and nothing
done Can't you come to a head ? Anything but
The Potato-plant still kept quiet. But when
digging-time came, and the hill was opened, and
the pile of 'Long Reds' appeared, her neighbors
could hardly believe their senses.
Dear me'! what a surprise cried the Bean.
'So we can't always tell by appearances i'
I declare !' cried Cabbage. Then you were
doing something all that time But how could I
know ? There's that Bean-she hung her pods up
high, so that everybody could see. Well, well,
well !-after this, I'll always say of a plant which
makes but little show: "Wait, Potatoes inside
there, may be."'
There are a great many Scarlet Beans among
the people I know," said Mr. Rockaway, "and
some Potato-plants, too."
And perhaps a few young Cabbage-heads," said
Uncle Peter, looking slyly around at the children.


I WILL tell you, my children, about a day they
used to celebrate when I was a boy, called Lord
Cornwallis's Day." It was the anniversary of the
day-October 19, 1781-when Lord Cornwallis sur-
rendered with the British army to General Wash-
ington, which ended the Revolutionary War, and
left us a free. country, to be no more troubled by
England on the ground that we belonged to her.
Well, when I was a little boy I lived in the town
of W- very near Concord and Lexington, where
the Centennial celebrations took place last June,
and there they were accustomed to make a good
deal of this day, though it is given up now.
They used to celebrate in a large field back of a
hotel and at the foot of a mountain, and the woods
on the mountain came down to the edge of this
field. Here there would be a grand mock fight,
between men dressed as Continental soldiers and
others dressed as British soldiers and Indians, till,
finally, the victory would be won by the Conti-
nentals, and then there would be great cheering.
I will describe one of these days just as I recollect
it, when I was about five years old.
The first event of the day, that filled me with
admiring awe, was the fixing up of an elder brother
to look like an Indian. He was dressed in a frock
with a belt about his body, into which was stuck a
tomahawk and a knife. The handles of both were
painted red, and the blades blue. Over his shoul-
der was slung a quiver filled with arrows. I don't
recollect the color of the quiver, but I can see the
red tips of the arrows as plain in my mind's eye as
if it were yesterday, as they peeped over his shoul-
der. Then in his hand he carried a bow. This
also had a good deal of red about it.
And his face I confess I was a little scared at
first, when he came grinning and scowling at a
brother, just as big as I was, and me, and flourished
his tomahawk over our heads. His eyebrows and
lashes were stained black, and his face red; and I
rather think there were streaks of other colors
about his fierce visage, though I can't remember
distinctly. He had moccasins on his feet, and wore
I forget just what on his legs.
Well, he started off in the morning, and we (my
companion brother and myself) soon after followed.
We went up to the field, which I judge was nearly
a mile from our house, and there we found old men
and old women, middle-aged men and middle-aged
women, young men and young maidens, and big
and little boys and girls. And there were men

selling everything that tasted good to youngsters
like ourselves; but we had no money to buy, so we
could only stand and watch others buy, and eat
and drink.
Presently we heard a distant war-whoop, and,
running with all the rest, we saw the Indians ap-
proaching. They were dressed in all sorts of colors
-blue, red, yellow, green, white, and I could n't
now say what else, with their faces painted in every
sort of way; and as they advanced with an Indian
trot, they kept making the war-whoop, by patting
their mouths with the palms of their hands as they
let their voices out in cries and yells.
I stood near a stone wall, and as they passed
over it in their moccasined feet, one stone after an-
other would roll or tumble to the ground, until, by.
the time the last Indian had passed, very little of
the wall was left at that place.
Then they crossed the field, and ran into the
woods at the foot of the mountain.
Soon after there came from the other end of
the field, with martial music and stately, regular
tread, the British army, dressed in red coats and
buff waistcoats and breeches, with epaulets on their
shoulders, bright brass buttons, and plumes in
their hats. They marched slowly into the woods
and joined the Indians, who were occupying a fort
that had been built for the occasion.
Now came the music of the drum and the fife,
playing "Yankee Doodle," and up marched the
Continental boys, in their blue coats, with buff
lappets, waistcoats and breeches, their knee-buckles
glistening in the sunlight, and their plumes waving
from their cockade hats, while their epaulets seemed
proud to be on their shoulders, as the spectators
cheered and cheered again. I '11 not be sure, but
I rather think, to my boyish fancy, the Yankee
soldiers had more shoot in their looks than the
Well, they filed into the woods, and presently
the battle commenced. Volleys of musketry rang
through the forest, and we could see the arrows
of the Indians fly through the air. The yells of
the soldiers mingled constantly with the Indian
war-whoop, and now and then a shout arose from
the field.
At length, the smoke of battle hid almost every-
thing from view; and then a sort of dread came
over the hearts of us youngsters, for it began to
seem like a real battle, and the war-whoops began
to have a terrific sound. But all at once there was



BY C. C.



one great shout, and the air was filled with loud
cheering, and the cry arose: The Yankees have
whipped The British are beaten !"
And sure enough, as the smoke cleared away, we
could see the Continental Blue-coats had won the
victory. There was a grand surrender of the Red-
coats and Indians, and with that the great event of
Lord Cornwallis's day was ended.

Then I, with my little companion brother,
wended my way home, but half-awake to the com-
monplace realities of the empty streets through
which we passed; and along in the evening came
our big Indian brother, who washed himself at the
sink, making the water in the wash-bowl all of a
streaked purple, as the red and black mingled
together from his hands and face.


(No. IV.)

LITTLE Peeky-Wang-Foo, with her chopsticks so new,
Sat eating her luncheon of rice,
When a rat running by,
On the rice cast his eye,
And Peeky ran off in a trice.



L 1,
V* "^_j 10L




Author of "Deal Gently with the Erring" and "Little Drops of Water."

How glad I am that I was n't a boy
In the days of Adam and Eve !
For weeding the garden is not good fun,
And if I had been the oldest one,
'T would be lonesome, you'd better believe.

I don't believe I should ever have liked
Their strange, old-fashioned ways;
Then Mother Eve was not "used to noise,"
And Cain and Abel were not good boys,
For they quarreled, the Bible says.

O dear I don't wonder, for only think,
There were only those two together !
And who ever heard of two boys who could
Agree with each other, through every mood
And every kind of weather?

No boots to stamp with! no "very first pants,"
To turn little boys to men !
No drum, or whistle, or kite, or ball!
No grandma with doughnuts! and, worse than all,
They had no ST. NICHOLAS then!

(Translation of Latin Sketch in July Number.)


WE are so accustomed to the ingenious construc-
tion of ordinary birds' nests, that we are not sur-
prised that such an airy and pleasant home should
be made of such various materials, collected from
such various places, and joined in such cunning
ways by the little birds, with no tools but their own
beaks and claws. But what would you say if a
crowd of these little birds should begin work, some
fine morning in Spring, not on their nests, but on
a play-house; and should assemble, a few days
afterward, to dance and frolic together in this play-
house, built by them for this very purpose, and
with great care and skill ? Surely that would be a
marvel indeed !
But such birds really exist, and just such play-
houses are really built by them.
Where? In Australia, and nowhere else. And
as it is probable, for this reason, that you will never
see them, they have sent a likeness of themselves,
and have requested to be introduced to you, in this
way, through the pages of ST. NICHOLAS.
They are named Bower-birds, and are divided
into two species. Those shown in the illustration
are called Spotted Bower-birds, and are of a rich
brown color, varied with spots of a golden-buff
shade, and have upon the back of the neck a ruff
or collar of long pink-colored feathers.

The play-house, or bower, is generally about a
foot and a-half in height, and from three to four
feet in length. A platform of several inches in
thickness is first constructed, being woven or plaited
like basket-work. The bower is then formed of
long grass twined over a frame-work of twigs, fixed
in the sides of the platform or mat; and the result
is a covered passage-way, open at both ends, and
sheltered above and on the sides.
But this is not all. The birds now proceed to
decorate the play-house, using for that purpose
shells, clean white bones, bits of colored cloth,
broken glass and chinaware, and any other shining
objects which they can obtain. It is said that a
tobacco-pipe and a lady's thimble have been found
in one of these bowers; and a leading naturalist
tells us that when the native Australians lose any
small, portable ornament, they always search the
bowers of the neighborhood, where the missing
article is often found.
These bowers become dilapidated with long use,
and the twigs burst apart by exposure to the wind
and rain, thus making the bower resemble an old,
worn-out basket. The birds will sometimes repair
a bower; but they generally prefer to build a new
one-and for such industrious and ingenious archi-
tects this is no arduous task.

[Names of translators will be found in the* Letter-Box.]





JACK went out with the lantern upon the ruined
abutment of the bridge,- and showed a space beside
the drift-wood, in the turbid and whirling current,
where fording seemed practicable.

Then the boys got into the wagon again, and the
mare was driven cautiously forward by the glim-
mering light which the lantern shed faintly before
and around them. Lion swam ahead, throwing up
his muzzle and barking loudly, like a faithful pilot
showing the safest way. The wheels went in over
the hubs; the water came into the bottom of the
wagon-box; the flood boiled and plashed and gur-
VOL. II-49.

gled, and swept away in black, whirling eddies;
and Jack said:
"This would n't be a very nice place to break
down, eh-would it ?"
But they got safely through; and on the farther
bank they were pleased to find again the trail of
the horse and buggy.

They were now in high spirits. The whirlwind
having passed up the river, the road lay aside from
its direct path, but still within the area of rain.
This is gay said Jack. He thinks he has
baffled us; and he will put up somewhere for the
night; and we wont! We shall circumvent Master
But soon the boys were again puzzled.
Reaching another cross-road, and bringing the
lantern to bear upon the trail, they found that, in-
stead of continuing northward toward Wisconsin,
or turning to the right in the direction of Chicago,
it turned at a sharp angle to the left, in the direc-
tion of North Mills.
This move is a perfect mystery to me Jack



exclaimed. "It seems as if he had thought the
thing all over, and finally chosen the very last place
one would expect him to make for."
Are you sure this road leads to North Mills ? "
"Perfectly sure; I've been this way three or
four times. But another road branches from it,
and passes a mile north of the'Mills; he has prob-
ably taken that."
But no; after a good deal of trouble-the road
appearing once more dry and much trodden-
they discovered that the horse and buggy had not
taken the branch, but kept the direct route to the
Mills !
It does n't seem possible there must be some
mistake here," said Jack; and every rod of their
progress seemed now to increase the boys' doubts.
The road, long before they reached the Mills,
became a mere bed of brown dust, in which it re-
quired a pretty vivid imagination to distinguish one
track from another. The boys' spirits sank accord-
ingly. Lion still led them boldly on; but his
guidance could no longer be trusted.
He 's bound for home now," said Jack, "and
he 'll go straight there."
"If Rad did come this way," said Rufe, "he
was shrewd, after all. He knew that by passing
through a busy place like the Mills, he would hide
his tracks as he could n't in any other way."
"To find 'em again," Jack replied, rather gloom-
ily, we shall have to examine every road going
out of this place."
It must have been near midnight when they en-
tered the village. The houses were all dark and
still; not: a ray at a window, not even the bark of a
dog. gave sign of life as they passed.
** T hi .:.i:. discouraging," said Jack.
"'A ..:i dil.: in a haystack is no comparison," re-
plied R -'f,. "The lantern is almost out:"
I can get another at our house," said Jack.
"We may as well follow the dog now. What did
I tell you? He is going straight home "
The-dog-trotted up to the gate- before Mr. Lan-
n.n's pottage, and the wagon turned up after him.
"What.'s that ahead of us ?" said Jack, as the
mare came to a sudden stop.
Seems to be .a wagon standing," said Rufe,
shading his eyes from the lantern and peering into
the darkness.
Jack jumped out, ran forward, and gave a shout.
The wagon was a buggy, and the horse was Snow-
foot, standing before the gate, waiting patiently to
be let in.
Quite wild with delight and astonishment, Jack
took the lantern and examined horse and vehicle.
Old Lion 1 you were right," he exclaimed.
"The scamp must have let the horse go, and taken
to his heels."

"The most he cared for was to get off with
the money," said Rufe, not quite so abundantly
pleased as his friend. "What's this thing under
the seat ? "
The compass said Jack,-if possible, still
more surprised and overjoyed. Which I accused
poor Zeph of stealing "
Rufe continued rummaging, and, holding the
lantern with one hand, lifted up a limp garment
with the other.
What in thunder ? A pair of breeches Rad's
breeches Where can the scamp have gone with-
out his breeches? See what's in the pocket there,
Jack thrust in his hand, and brought out some
loose bank-notes. He thrust in his hand again,
and brought out a pocket-book, containing more
bank-notes. It was Mr. Betterson's pocket-book,
and the notes were the stolen money.
Jack was hastily turning them over-not count-
ing them, he was too much amazed and excited
to do that-when the candle in the lantern gave
a final flicker and went out, leaving the boys and
the mystery of the compass and the money and
Rad's pantaloons enveloped in sudden darkness.

BRIGHT rose the sun the next morning over the
leafy tops of Long Woods, and smiled upon the
pleasant valley.
It found many a trace of the previous day's de-
vastation,-trees uprooted or twisted off at their
trunks, branches and limbs broken and scattered,
fences blown down, and more than one man's
buildings unroofed or demolished.
It found Peakslow, accompanied by-the two older
boys, walking about his private and particular pile
of ruins, in a gloomy and bewildered state of mind,
as if utterly at a loss to know where the repair of
such tremendous damages should begin. And (the
sun itself must have been somewhat astonished !)
it found Mrs. Peakslow and the younger children,
five in number, comfortably quartered in Lord
Betterson's "castle."
It also had glimpses of Rufe, with light and jolly
face, driving home by prairie and grove, alone in
the one-horse wagon.
Link ran out to meet him, swinging his cap, and
shouting for the news.
"Good news!" Rufe shouted back, while still
far up the road. Tell the folks !" and he held
up the pocket-book.
It was good news indeed which he brought; but
the mystery at the bottom of it all was a mystery



The family gathered around, with intense in-
terest, while he told his story and displayed Rad's
The eighty dollars, which you had counted
out,-you remember, father,-was loose in the
pocket. I left that with Jack; he will send it to
Chicago to-day. The rest of the money, I believe,
is all here in the pocket-book."
And you've heard nothing of Radcliff?" said
Mr. Betterson.
Not a word. Jack made me stop with him
overnight; and I should have come home the way
we went, and looked for Rad, if it had n't been so
far; we must have driven twelve or fifteen miles in
that roundabout chase."
Some accident must certainly have happened
to Radcliff," said Mr. Betterson; and much won-
der and many conjectures were expressed by the
missing youth's not very unhappy relatives.
I bet I know i" said Link. He drove so fast
he overtook the tornado, and it twisted him out of
his breeches, and hung him up in a tree some-
where "
An ingenious theory, which did not, however,
obtain much credence with the family.
One thing seems to be proved, and I am very
glad," said Vinnie. It was not Zeph who took
Jack's compass."
R- kTjd must have taken that, to spite Jack, and
lid it somewhere near the road in the timber,
where it would be handy if he ever wanted to make
off with it; that's what Jack thinks," said Rufe.
" Then, as he was driving past the spot, he put it
into the buggy again."
May be he intended to set up for a surveyor
somewhere," Wad remarked. He must have
taken another pair of trousers with him."
I am sure he did n't," said Cecie.
"And even if he did," said Rufe, "that would n't
account for his leaving the money in the pocket."
The family finally settled down upon a theory
which had been first suggested by Jack,-that in
fording the river, Rad had caught his wheels in the
tree-tops or the timbers of the ruined bridge, and, to
keep his lower garments dry, had taken them off
and left them in the buggy, while he waded in to
remove the rubbish, when the horse had somehow
got away from him, and gone home. It also seemed
quite probable that Rad himself had become en-
tangled in drift-wood, and been drowned.
Feed the mare, boys," said Lord Betterson.
"As soon as she is well rested, I '1 drive up to the
broken bridge, and see if any discoveries can be
Meanwhile, whatever Radcliff's fate, it did not
prevent the family from rejoicing over the recovery
of the lost money. And now Rufe's attention was

called to another happy circumstance, one which
promised to be to them a source of deeper and
more lasting satisfaction.
Cecie could walk !
Yes, the marvelous effects of the previous day's
events were still manifest in the case of the little
invalid. Either the tremendous excitement, thrill-
ing and rousing her whole system, or the electric
shock which accompanied the whirlwind, or the
exertions she felt compelled to make when Rad ran
off with the money,-or all combined (for the doc-
tors I have talked with are divided in opinion on
the subject),-had overcome the paralysis of her
limbs, which a long course of medical treatment
had failed to remove.
The family physician, who chanced to come over
from the Mills that day, maintained that what he
had been doing for the injured spine, the source of
Cecie's troubles, had prepared the way for this re-
sult; while neighbor Peakslow, when he heard the
news, grunted, and said he guessed the gal could
'a' walked all the time if she had only thought she
could, or wanted to very much." All which made
Cecie smile. She only knew that she was cured,
and was too proud and glad to care much what was
said of her.

IN the course of the day, Mr. Betterson and Rufe
visited the supposed scene of Rad's disaster, and
there met by chance Jack and his friend Forrest
Felton, who for a similar object had driven up from
North Mills.
The river had gone down almost as rapidly as it
had risen, and fording it now by daylight was no
such difficult matter. But there still were the tim-
bers and tree-tops, amidst which the vehicles had
passed the night before.
Jack showed marks on one of his wheels where
the spokes had been sharply raked, and told how,
examining Snowfoot by daylight, he had found
muddy splashes on his flank, as if he had been
struck there by a bough or branch drenched in
turbid water.
I think," said he, "that as Rad was getting
the buggy clear, the limb of a tree turned over and
hit the horse. That started him, and away he
went. I don't believe Rad is drowned."
Search was made among the rubbish at the
bridge, and for some distance down the river; but
no traces of Rad were discovered.
"May be he has gone home by water," was
Rufe's rather too playful way of saying that the
drowned body might have floated down stream.
If he got out alive," said Jack's friend Felton,



" he must have found his way to some house near
by, in quest of pantaloons." And the party now
proceeded to make inquiries at the scattered huts
of the Dutch-or rather German-settlers along
the edge of the timber.
At the first two doors where they stopped they
found only women and children, who could speak
no English. But at the next house they saw a girl,
who eagerly answered Yah yah !" to their ques-
tions, and ran and called a man working at the
back door.
He was a short, thick-set man, with a big russet
beard and serious blue eyes.
Goot morgin," he said, coming to the road to
greet the strangers. Der been some vind dis
vay-you see some?-vas las' ebening."
The strangers acknowledged that they had ex-
perienced some effects of the wind the night be-
fore, and repeated their questions regarding Rad-
Young man-no priches-yah yah !"' replied
Meinheer. He come 'long here, vas 'pout nine
hours, may pe some more."
"A little after nine o'clock last night?" sug-
gested Jack.
"Yah, yah! I vas bed shleepin', somebody
knock so loud, I git some candle light, and make
.de door open, and der vas some young feller, his
face sick, his clo'es all so vet but his priches,-his
prices vas not vet, for he has no prices, only
some shoes."
"Where did he come from?"
He say he come from up stream; he pass de
pridge over, and der vas no pridge; and he drive
'cross de vaser, and he cannot drive 'cross ; so he
git out, only his prices not git out, for de vaser
vas vet, and his prices keeps in de vagon, vile he
keeps in de vaser; he make some lift on some logs,
and someding make de hoss fright, and de boss
jump and jerk de vagon, and de vagon jerk
someding vat jerk him; and he prices rides off,
and he shtop in de vaser, and dhink some, and git
sick, and he say de log in his stomach and so much
vaser was pad, and I mus' give him some dhink
viskey and some dry prices, and I gives 'em."
A pair of your breeches ? cried Rufe, eying
the baggy proportions of Meinheer's nether gar-
"I have no oder; I fetch 'em from faderland;
and I gives him some. He stick his legs in, and
some of his legs come too much under; de prices
vas some too vide, and some not long genoof. He
dhink more viskey, and feel goot, and say he find
his team and bring back my prices to-morrow,
and it is to-morrow yet, and he not come."
Even the grave uncle of the luckless nephew had
to laugh as he thought of the slim legs pursuing

their travels in the short but enormous pricese"
fetched from fatherland.
How much were your breeches worth ?" Lord
said, taking out some money.
"I don't know-I don't keeps prices to sell;
may pe vun tollar."
Betterson gave the German a dollar, saying:
"Allow me'to pay for them; for, if I mistake
not, you will never see the young man or your
breeches again."
He was quite right-the German never did.
Neither-it may as well be said here-did Rad-
cliff's own relatives see him again for many years.
What various adventures were his can only be sur-
mised, until one of the "Philadelphia partners,"
settling up his accounts with the world, left him a
legacy of six thousand dollars, when he once more
bloomed out as a fine gentleman, and favored his
Western friends with a visit.
He ran through his little fortune in a few months,
and once more disappeared from view, to turn up
again, five or six years later (when Jack and Vinnie
saw him for the last time), as a runner for one of
the great Chicago hotels.

"MERCY on me said Caroline, hearing an
unusual noise in the front part of the house; now
we are to have the racket of those Peakslbw chil-
dren What could you have been thinking of,
Lavinia dear? I'm sure I did n't know what I
was saying when I gave my consent to their com-
ing. The idea of their turning our library into a
kitchen Not that I blame you, Lavinia dear. I
ought to have considered."
Surely you would n't have denied the houseless
family a shelter?" Vinnie replied. That would
have seemed too bad, with those great chambers
unoccupied. As for the library,"-Vinnie smiled,
for the unfurnished room called by that choice
name had nothing in it but a fire-place,-" I don't
think any harm can happen to that."
Vinnie had a plan regarding the Peakslow chil-
dren, which she laid before Mrs. Peakslow as soon
as the new inmates were fairly settled in the house.
Since my sister and the baby have been so
much better, I have begun a little school, with only
two scholars-Cecie and Lilian. Would n't your
children like to join it ? I think it would be
Whuther they would or not, I'd like to have
'em," replied Mrs. Peakslow, gratefully. "The
chances for schoolin' is dreffle slim in this country;
we've no school-house within nigh two mile. But
how shall I pay ye ? "



"You need n't mind about that."
Yes, I shall mind too. We must do something'
fdr you in return."
Well, then," said Vinnie, "if you like, you may
let one of the girls help a little in my sister's kitch-
en, to make up for the time I spend with them."
"I'll do it, sartin You shall have Lyddy.
She's a good smart hand at housework, and you
may git all out of her you can."
So it was arranged. The little school of two
was increased to five; the "parlor "-used only to
store grain in hitherto-was turned into a school-
room; and Lyddy worked in Mrs. Betterson's
Lavinia dear, you are an extraordinary girl "
said Caroline. It seems the greatest miracle of all
to see one of the Peakslows washing our dishes "
No one was better pleased with this arrangement
than Jack, who could never be reconciled to seeing
Vinnie-with all her health and strength and cheery
spirits-doing the hardest of the house-work.
Jack took early occasion, on visiting Long
Woods, to go and see Mr. Peakslow, and make
him a frank apology for having once suspected
Zeph of taking his compass. But he got only an
ugly scowl and surly grunt for his pains.
For awhile Peakslow did not go near his family,
quartered in his enemy's house; but slept in the
haystack, with Dud and Zeph, and ate the meals
his wife cooked and sent to him three times a day.
But soon Dud went to sleep at the castle," and
found he had nothing more formidable to meet
than Vinnie's bright eyes,-for Dud had suddenly
developed into a bashful youth.
Zeph in a night or two followed his example,
and Peakslow was left alone in his haystack.
And the nights were growing chill; and the re-
pair of the buildings went on slowly, carpenters
being scarce; and Peakslow, who had a heart for
domestic comforts, began to yearn for the presence
of his family at meal-time and bed-time.
At length he stole into the house after dark one
evening, and stole out again before light the next
morning. That did not seem to hurt him; on the
contrary, it suited Peakslow; his neighbor's house
was better than a haystack. Then he came to
supper, and staid to breakfast. Then there was no
good reason why he should not come to dinner;
and he came accordingly.
Then he stopped after dinner one day to see how
Vinnie conducted her little school, and went away
looking wonderfully thoughtful. The boys remem-
bered that he did not scold them so sharply that
afternoon as he had been wont to do since the tor-
nado disturbed his temper.
One morning as he was going out, Peaksiow saw
Lord Betterson in the yard, and advanced awk-

wardly toward him, holding his hat in one hand
and scratching his head with the other. There
was, after all, a vein of diffidence in the rough
quartz of the man's character; and somehow, on
this occasion, he could n't help showing his neigh-
bor a good deal of respect.
"I'm a-gun to have a bee this arternoon,-a
raisin',--gun to try to git the logs back on to the
house, an' the ruf on to the shed,-everything
ready,-some o' the neighbors com'n' to help,-
and if you an' your boys can lend a hand, I'll do
as much for you some time."
Surely; very glad to serve you, neighbor Peak-
slow," Lord Betterson replied, in his magnificently
polite way, much as if he had been a monarch dis-
missing a foreign ambassador.
Jack came over to Long Woods that afternoon,
and, having rectified Mrs. Wiggett's noon-mark,
stopped at Peakslow's raising on his way back up
the valley.
He found a group of men and boys before the
house, partaking of some refreshments,-sweet-
ened whiskey and water, passed round in a pail
with a tin dipper by Zeph, and "nut-cakes" and
"turn-overs," served by Mrs. Peakslow and 'Lecty
The sight of Snowfoot tied to his fence made
Peakslow glare; nor was his ruffled spirit smoothed
when he saw Jack come forward with a cheery face
and a compass in his hand.
Jack greeted the Bettersons, Mr. Wiggett, and
one or two others he knew, and was talking pleas-
antly with them, when Peakslow pushed the in-
verted cut-water of his curved beak through the
crowd, and confronted him.
So that air's the compass, is it?"
This is the compass, Mr. Peakslow."
Keep in it yer hand, now'days, do ye ? Don't
trust it in the wagon ? Good idee No danger of
its bein' stole, an' your coming' again to 'cuse my
boys of the theft "
Peakslow's ancient wrath rekindled as he spoke;
his voice trembled and his eyes flamed.
Jack kept his temper admirably, and answered
with a frank and honest face :
I have made the best amends I could for that
mistake, by apologizing to you for it, Mr. Peak-
slow. I don't keep the compass in my hand be-
cause I am afraid it may be stolen. I have called
-as I promised Mrs. Peakslow the other day that
I would do-to give her a noon-mark on her
kitchen floor."
How's this ?-promised her ?-I don't under-
stand that! growled Peakslow.
"Yes, pa said Mrs. Peakslow, with a fright-
ened look. I seen him to Mis' Betterson's. He'd
made a noon-mark for Mis' Wiggett, and Mis' Bet-


r::'' .=O'


terson's sister asked me if I would n't like one, as
he was coming' to make them one, some day."
Off went Peakslow's hat, and into his bushy hair
went his fingers again, while he stammered out:
But he can't make no noon-mark this arter-
noon,-we 're all in a mess an' litter, so "
Just as well now as any time," said Jack.
" The door-way is clear. I sha' n't interfere with
What '1 be to pay ?" Peakslow asked.
O, I don't charge anything for a little job like
this-to one of Mr. Betterson's neighbors."
That's jes' so ; he did n't charge me nary red,"
said Mr. Wiggett. "An' he's done the job for me
now tew times,-fust time, the tornado come and
put the noon-mark out a j'int, 'fore ever a noon
come round."
Jack adjusted his compass, while the house-
raisers looked on, to see how the thing was done,
Peakslow appearing as much interested as any-
Jack got Link to make the first marks for him
on the floor, and laughed, as he looked through
the sights of the compass, to hear Mr. Wiggett de-
scribe the finding of his section corner,-" running'
a line plumb to the old stake, out on the open
perairie,"-and praise the boy-surveyor's skill.
The mark was made with quickness and pre-
cision; friends and strangers crowded around Jack
with kind words and questions; and he was sur-
prised to find himself all at once a person of im-
Peakslow puffed hard at his pipe. His face was
troubled; and two or three times he pulled the
pipe out of his mouth, thrust his knuckles under
his hat, and took a step toward the young surveyor.
He also cleared his throat. He evidently had a
word to say. But the word would not come.
When at last he let Jack go off without offering
him even a syllable of thanks, the bystanders
smiled, and somebody might have been heard to
mutter: "Peakslow all over! Just like his hog-
gishness !"
Jack smiled too as he went, for he had shrewdly
observed his enemy, and he knew it was not "hog-
gishness" which kept Peakslow's lips closed, but a
feeling which few suspected in that grasping, hard,
and violent-tempered man.
Peakslow was abashed !

THE house made once more inhabitable, Peak-
slow's family moved back into it. But this change
did not take Lyddy away from the "castle," nor
break up Vinnie's school.

The "castle now underwent some renovation.
The long-neglected plastering was done, and the
rooms in daily use were made comfortable.
Meanwhile the boys were full of ambition regard-
ing their water-works. The project cost them a
good deal more trouble than they had anticipated
at first; but they were amply repaid for all on the
day when the water was finally let on, and they
saw it actually run from the spout in the back
room Such a result had seemed to them almost
too good ever to come true; and their joy over it
was increased tenfold by the doubts and difficulties
Jack had come over to be present when the water
was brought in, and he was almost as happy over
it as they.
".No more trouble wifh the old well said Rufe.
No more lugging water from the grove said
Or going into the river head-first after it, as
you and I did said Link.
Vinnie was proud of her nephews, and Caroline
and Lord were proud of their sons.
How fine it will be for your dairy, in Summer,
-this cold, running water said Vinnie.
But Chokie seemed best pleased, because he
would no longer be dependent upon precarious
rains filling the hogshead, but would have a whole
tankful of water-an ocean in the back room-to
sail his shingle boats on.
The boys had also acted on another suggestion
of Jack's, and taken the farm to work. This plan
also promised to succeed well. The prospect of
doing something for themselves, roused energies
which might have lain dormant all their lives, if
they had been contented to sit still and wait for
others to help them.
As Vinnie's school became known, other pupils
appeared from up and down the river, and by the
first snowfall she had more than a dozen scholars.
Among these were Sal Wiggett and two big boys
belonging to the paternal Wiggett's third crop"
of children, and Dud and Zeph Peakslow.
The Betterson boys also attended the school,
Wad and Link as pupils, and Rufe partly as a
pupil and partly as an assistant. Vinnie could
teach him penmanship and grammar, but she was
glad to turn over to him the classes in arithmetic,
for which study he had a natural aptitude.
The Peakslow children, both boys and girls, had
a good deal in them that was worth cultivating;
and amid the genial associations of the little school,
they fast outgrew their rude and uncouth ways. It
was interesting to see Zeph and Cecie reciting the
same lessons side by side, and Rufe showing Dud
about the sums that bothered him.
Caroline had very much objected to Vinnie's en-


Sprised her. Vinnie had a charming
-way with the younger children, and a
S i peculiarly subduing influence over the
--- '1 larger boys.
.'.--- '" Lavinia dear," said Caroline," what
have I always said? You are a most
'" --extraordinary girl!"
S----.- And now things came round curi-
S. ously enough, and an event occurred
*'' 1 of which nobody could have dreamed
S' when Vinnie set out alone, with a brave
i-'. I -' i j heart, to do her simple duty to her sis-
,,V ] ter's family.
l Il -' It was found that she had a happy
'i faculty for interesting and instructing
i11 V1 the young. So when, in the Spring,
a girls' school was opened at North
. IMills, she was offered a place in it as
assistant teacher, which her friends
l ;. there-Jack's friends-prevailed on her.
to accept.
-- Leaving Long Woods cost her many
.regrets. But the better order of things
Swas now well established at the cas-
.' tie" (which was fast ceasing to be a
-- '. castle, in the popular speech); and she
S felt that its inmates could spare her
-''--'- ---. -- "-'.-- very well,-if they would only think
Other considerations also consoled
THEY SAW IT ACTUALLY RUN ROM TH SPOUT her for the change. She would still be
larging her school, and especially to her receiving where she could see her relatives often; and now
the big boys. The success of the experiment sur- Jack's delightful home was to be her own.



BY H. H.

THERE 'S a funny tale of a stingy man,
Who was none too good, but might have been worse,
Who went to his church on a Sunday night,
And carried along his well-filled purse.

When the sexton came with his begging-plate,
The church was but dim with the candle's light
The stingy man fumbled all through his purse,
And chose a coin by touch and not sight.



It's an odd thing now that guineas should be
So like unto pennies in shape and size.
"I'll give a penny," the stingy man said;
The poor must not gifts of pennies despise."

The penny fell down with a clatter and ring !
And back in his seat leaned the stingy man.
The world is so full of the poor," he thought,
I can't help them all-I give what I can."

Ha, ha how the sexton smiled, to be sure,
To see the gold guinea fall in his plate !
Ha, ha how the stingy man's heart was wrung,
Perceiving his blunder, but just too late !

No matter," he said; "in the Lord's account
That guinea of gold is set down to me.
They lend to Him who give to the poor;
It will not so bad an investment be."

Na, na, mon," the chuckling sexton cried out,
The Lord is na cheated-He kens thee well;
He knew it was only by accident
That out o' thy fingers the guinea fell!

He keeps an account, na doubt, for the puir;
But in that account He'll set down to thee
Na mair o' that golden guinea, my mon,
Than the one bare penny ye meant to gi'e "

There 's a comfort, too, in the little tale-
A serious side as well as a joke;
A comfort for all the generous poor,
In the comical words the sexton spoke.

A comfort to think that the good Lord knows
How generous we really desire to be,
And will give us credit in His account
For all the pennies we long "to gi'e."





IT is the children's hour-between supper and
bed-time. My big boy, Bertie, stands beside me,
proud to see that his head is on a level with mine,'
and that his arm can reach "clear across" my
shoulders as I sit in my easy chair. Little Charlie,
our baby and pet, two years younger than his big
brother, climbs into my lap.
The boys have brought their back numbers of
ST. NICHOLAS to me, and I am settling down for a
long siege.
Well, I read, and read, and read; first a story
of Charlie's selection, then one of Bertie's; first
from one number and then from another, and
finish with one that I have read six or seven times
before-the beautiful Christmas' Legend," in the
last holiday number.
Bertie takes the book from my hand to look at
the lovely picture where Hermann brings home a

Christmas guest," and Charlie slips down from my
lap to join his brother, while mamma, very tired,
leans back in her easy chair for a moment's quiet.
Her thoughts go back to the pretty stories she has
read, and, listening to her children's prattle, she
wonders into how many different homes this cheery
visitor finds his way; how many "sorts and condi-
tions of children are made happy by his monthly
Just then some one touches her gently on the
shoulder, and, looking up, she sees with wondering
surprise the beautiful face of the little Christmas
guest, just as it is in the picture, only far more
beautiful, because not a picture, but apparently a
real little child. About the golden flowing hair
shines the halo,-whiter than the moonlight,
brighter than the sun. He beckons me to fellow,
and, without effort of my own, I seem to float up,


up, and out into the clear starlight, away, away,
Then I find myself in a bright and beautiful
room. Christmas wreaths and stars and crosses
adorn the pictured walls. A blazing fire glows in
the polished grate, and a group of children's faces
gleam and sparkle in the light of the brilliant
chandelier as they cluster about a sweet and gentle-
looking lady, who is reading-yes, reading from
Surely this must be one of the happiest homes,"
I whisper, to which the far-roving ST. NICHOLAS
ever comes! Not one shadow is on the happy
scene, and only one thing wanting to complete the
picture-the husband and father. Where is he, I
wonder?" And I look up to my little guide in-
quiringly. The beautiful light that surrounds him
is shining full upon a picture on the wall I had not
seen before. A wreath of holly circles it around,
and underneath it, on a marble bracket, where an
ivy twines, is a vase of fragrant violets. But in
this wondrous light it does not seem to be a picture,
but a real, living face of a man, strong and gentle,
tender and true, looking down on the little family
circle. And then I notice that the reader's face is
very pale and sad, and her dress as black as night,
with folds of heavy crape, and my eyes grow dim,
for I know so well-ah, me !-so well, just how
lonely and how sad she is, and I so long to tell her
how the picture looks when seen in the beautiful
light in which it shines for me. But she is smiling
now as she reads with cheerful voice the story of
the "Eight Cousins."
At first I think these must be the eight little
cousins themselves, but as I look again I see there
are but seven, and more than half are girls.
Let Tottem see! Where's Tottem's place?"
and the smallest little chap-who looks for all the
world as if he might be little Jamie of the story,
for he is dressed in the pretty Highland costume,
and has the same sturdy, saucy little legs and
manly, independent air-pushes his curly head
through the happy crowd, and, looking at the pic-
ture, he sees what I have seen before.
Tottem dot Scosh shute too," he cries. Dat's
Tottem's own se'f! See see! see!"
Loud shouts greet this little speech of Tottem's,
and then, silence being restored, mamma goes on
to read of that dear doctor-uncle and the aunties.
One of the little group thinks Rose a foolish little
girl not to like oatmeal, and at the account of
Uncle Alec's pills there is a burst of happy laugh-
ter. Rising with it, we float out again into the
starry night.
'T is but a moment, and we are in another room.
No blazing grate is here, no group of happy chil-
dren. A feeble light glimmers from the lamp upon

the table, a feebler fire shines faintly through the
cracks of the broken stove, where a tired, ragged
boy vainly tries to warm his half-naked feet.
"Oh, Sis," he says, looking over to the miser-
able bed where a white little face I had not seen
before turns restlessly on its pillow of straw, I
brought you something' home to-night you '11 like, I
tell you !-a book full of pictures. A pretty little
fellow sitting' on a big stoop had one, and he said
he'd read it so often he guessed he 'd give it to us,
so he cut the threads with his knife. and divided it
up between me and two other chaps-you '11 see; "
and he dives his cold hand down into a basket
where I catch a glimpse of matches, shoe-strings,
blacking, and all the little stock in trade whereby
this brave little street peddler earns food and
shelter, such as it is, for his suffering little sister,
who is all he has in the wide, wide world.
"See, here 's a angel on the first page, aint it?
But there 's some tore off, I guess. I seen that
the first thing, and I says to myself, says I, Sis '11
like to see that, for sure !' So, sure enough, it
came to me. See, here it is! and he turned to
the last picture, which was that of the Children
singing carols." So, you see, it was only a few
leaves out of the last Christmas number of ST.
NICHOLAS. Yet it was enough to bring much
peace, and even gladness into this wretched home,
for the little girl's face brightens as she looks at
the heading of The Blessed Day."
Oh yes," she says very softly, it is an angel!
Can you read about it, Tom ? "
Of course I can," says Tom; and carrying
back the lamp to the shaky table, he sets it down
and spreads the book out on his ragged knee.
The first verse he has some trouble in spelling out,
but the others, being so much like it, come more
easily, and the child listens with strange delight to
the sweet refrain of Christmas Day in the Morn-
Read it again, Tom," she whispers; and Tom,
seeing her lying there with closed eyes and peaceful
smile, reads on, glad to think poor Sis is going to
sleep so soon to-night.
I am thinking sadly of poor Tom and his sister,
when lo I find myself again in a cheerful, brightly
lighted room, where the crimson damask-covered
furniture, marble statuettes and bronzes, speak of
wealth and luxury.
Ah, this is a relief! I cry. Now we shall
see more happy children. Ah me! why cannot
all earth's dear little ones be born to wealth and
the joy and happiness it brings ? But as I speak
I see a weary little face bending listlessly above a
book upon his knee, and then glancing inquiringly
at another face also bent over a book, but with
eager, absorbing interest.



"Please, Miss Stanley," says the little fellow,
" wont you read to me now? I have been good so
long, and I am so tired."
Presently, presently," is the absent answer,
and then impatiently, as a weary little sigh smites
her conscience, "Don't ask me again, or I shall
not do it at all! "
She goes back to her book, and the poor baby
turns patiently to his.
Oh, those black and funny little boys with their
brooms and brushes in the pictures he has been
looking at all day And that dearest little one of
all, no bigger than he is, 'way up on that high
chimney Chimney-sweeps, nurse says, they are;
for while she washed his hands after dinner he had
coaxed her to wait a minute till he should run for
his ST. NICHOLAS and find out. How nice it must
be to run all about and climb high places like that,
not being afraid. Ah, how he wished that he were
a chimney-sweep. He wondered if those were little
black velvet suits like his that they had on. Oh
no, that could n't be, or they would never be al-
lowed to play with brooms or brushes, or to climb.
But what did they do, and how? All the wonder-
ful reading under the pictures and above told it all,
and yet he could not know; and again his pleading
eyes are raised to the other's face, and, as leaf after
leaf is turned, watch with alternately hopeful and
hopeless glance, till the mother-heart within me
aches in pity for the child. The door opens, and a
white-capped attendant enters.
Come, Master Harry," she says, "it is time to
go to bed."
But Miss Stanley is going to read one story for
me first; and the poor little voice trembles with
Not if it is bed-time, Harry; of course not," is
the pitiless answer.
Come along," says Nanette; "it is my even-
ing out, and I have no time to lose."
Marie will put me to be bed," anxiously sug-
gests the little fellow, when I have heard my
story. I know she will."
Marie is busy dressing your mamma's hair for
the ball, and has her hands full too, to please her,"
she adds to herself as she leads poor Harry away,

chiding him rudely for not bidding his governess
good-night more cheerfully. The fresh, bright-
covered number of ST. NICHOLAS lies in the little
chair where Harry left it as we vanish from the
room, and I sigh to think that the children of the
rich are not always the happiest or most tenderly
cared for.
And now we take our way southward. In a trice
we meet its balmy airs, and, sweeping low in our
flight, pass over groves of orange-trees, where the
golden fruit gleams among the green and wax-like
leaves, and the night is fragrant with the breath of
the pure, white, beautiful blossoms. In a little
cabin an old negress holds a fair-haired child upon
her knee, hushing it in vain to its nightly slumbers
with its favorite camp-meeting songs.
Dere now, honey, go to sleep. Your ma is
too sick for you to see her to-night, and ole Mammy
Edy will take good care ob her baby, sho. Whar's
your new ST. NICH'LAS book, honey, and we '11
look at the pretty picters? Aint it come yet?
Wall, here's de ole book den, wid de pretty little
'Peepsy-Weepsy' pictures. Dese aint no low-
down Yankee chickens now, I tell you, chile. Dey
comes of good ole stock, dat's sartain; dey's got
it in der looks. Dey's de rale Suddern 'ristocratic
chickens, aint dey, honey ball? And you was
Mom Edy's own Peepsy-Weepsy little gal; and
the fair, plump arms draw closer down the dark
and kindly face, and nestling in the faithful bosom,
little "Peepsy-Weepsy" shuts her blue eyes and is
soon fast asleep.
Northward we speed again on the balmy south-
ern breeze.
"Happy ST. NICHOLAS 1 I say, as we float
along, carrying comfort and happiness and mirth
into so many homes, North and South and East
and West, and high and low and rich and poor 1 "
and then looking round,-lo, I find myself in my
easy chair at my own fireside again! My dear
little boys are still looking at the pictures of my
ST. NICHOLAS, but my beautiful guide has van-
ished. And thinking of what I have seen and
heard in the short time I have been away (for it
was not ten minutes by the clock), it all seems to
me like a strange and beautiful dream.



(A Story of the Far West.)


T was late in the fall. I had
been away from my ranche
for more than a week; in
that time I had ridden over
three hundred miles, and
my horse, as well as myself,
was in great need of rest.
As it was nearly noon, I
halted at Hunter's ranche
for lunch, and while there
I was told that on the third
day after, there was to be a
rod6o "-that is, a general
hunt for cattle, in which all
the owners join, sweeping the country in a large
circle, and driving all the stock to a common
Having learned where the meet was to be, and
promising to be on hand, I remounted and pushed
for home. A general outcry from half-a-dozen
dogs heralded my approach, and, as I reined up at
the door, Bill, our man-of-all-work, came out. As
soon as he had told me what little news there was
to tell, I said :
Well, start out and drive up the horses. I
want Curlew put in the stable, as there 's to be a
rodeo next Thursday."
Too bad, -Cap, but the horses struck out day
before yesterday-gone to the river, I think; have
been hunting them steadily, but can't find hair or
track of them."
This was pleasant news to hear. For work like
that which was before me, a fresh horse was indis-
pensable. I had nothing to do but to start out and
hunt my own animals; so, tightening my girths,
I turned my horse's head toward the river, twenty
miles to the south.
I knew where the wanderers were likely to be;
twice before had they run away, and each time had
been found upon Steptoe cation. I reached the
head of this cation late in the evening, and then
horse and rider met with good care from a stock-
man whose ranche is there located.
Early the next morning I started out. Steptoe
cation is far from being a pleasant place in which
to hunt stock. It is a narrow valley or ravine some
ten miles long, in which length it makes a descent
of some two thousand feet. The sides are very
precipitous; there is no road or sign of a road--
nothing but narrow trails made by the stock pass-

ing up and down the cation. I scanned thecation
faithfully, going up all the gulleys and using my
field-glasses freely. No trace of the missing ones
could I see.
It was late in the afternoon when I reached the
river. It had been my intention, if I did not find
the horses, to ride up to White's, some fifteen miles
above the mouth of Steptoe, and come back by the
hills the next day; but'as I was coming down the
last hill, my horse stepped on a stone, and recov-
ered himself only to go dead lame. I had been'
warned to reach the river in time to get up to
White's before sundown, the trail being very bad,
so much so as to almost deserve the name of dan-
gerous. There was no hope of doing so now, and
to make my way back to my stopping-place of the
night before was equally impossible. There were
two other courses open to me,-to lie out all night
without food or blankets, or to make my way down
the river to the Wawawa Bar, and seek a night's
lodgings with the Indians who inhabited it. I
chose the latter, and dismounting, began to lead
my horse along the narrow trail.
The Wawawa was only about four miles distant.
The scenery about me was wild, with something
of a barren grandeur. Snake River at this point is
nearly three-fourths of a mile wide. The hills upon
its southern bank are low and rolling, rising grad-
ually to a considerable height inland; but on the
north side, where I was riding, they rise bold and
abrupt to a height of over two thousand feet. Not
a tree or shrub was visible; but vast quantities of
basaltic rock, in every conceivable form and shape,
covered their sides.
The trail was narrow and bad. I could make
but slow progress, for my poor horse could hardly
be persuaded to move. I was not without a little.
anxiety as to my reception, for only two months
before there had been serious trouble between these
Indians and the settlers. The former had had a
row among themselves, in which one of their num-
ber had been killed in the attempt to arrest the
murderer. Shots had been exchanged, another
Indian killed and one wounded; the arrest had
been effected, but the Indians were said to be feel-
ing very bitter. Had it not been so late in the
season, I should infinitely have preferred "lying
out." As it was, I kept on my way, and just as
the sun was sinking behind the hills I came in sight
of the Indian village.



It comprised, perhaps, a dozen lodges made of
skins stretched over poles. There were besides,
two or three dilapidated-looking cabins built of
drift-logs, and two huge structures, of the same
material, used for smoking salmon. Below the vil-
lage I saw several bands of Indian horses. A num-
ber of children were playing around the lodges.
There were several garden patches, rudely fenced,
and two or three fields of rye and wheat stubble;
the crops had been gathered.
Going up to one of the largest tents, I was
greeted by a deafening chorus from numerous
mongrel curs that gathered from all sides. Their
noise brought out a couple of Indians, who, when
they saw me, gathered their blankets about them
and came toward me.
Dropping my lariat, I went to meet them. I
knew but few words of the jargon commonly used
between the Indians and whites, but hoped, with
the aid of signs, to make my wants known.
"Cli-hi-um-six ?" (How are you, friend?) I said.
Cli-hi-um? was the brief answer.
"You speak Boston man's talk?" I asked.
"Na-wit-ka" (No), said the Indian.
I took up the lariat, led the horse a few paces,
pointed to him to show he was lame, then pointed
to the west where the sun had already disappeared,
and then to the lodge. Evidently they understood
the pantomime, for, after exchanging a few words
between themselves, one advanced and took my
horse while the other led the way to the tent. I
followed without looking back; to have expressed
the least doubt, by word or sign, as to the safety
of my beast or his equipment, would have been a
sad breach of manners.
Lifting a robe that hung over the entrance and
served as a door, he motioned me to go in. I did
so, and, making my way to the opposite side, sat
down. The ground was covered with matting,
save in the center, which was bare. The dead
coals lying there showed that this was their fire-
place. There were four Indian women seated on
one side of the tent. Two were quite old; one of
them was busy making a wicker basket; the other,
who was partly supported by sundry robes and
parcels, seemed to be sick, as she was doing noth-
ing. Of the remaining two, one was extremely
homely, apparently about thirty years old, and
busy plaiting matting. The fourth and last was
young and very pretty; she was nursing a little
papoose, and her dress and manner seemed to
show that she was a favorite. The first three were
dressed in plain dark-colored calico, with leggings
made of strips of blankets, and their blankets were
of the ordinary kind used by Indians-of white,
yellow, and blue stripes. All looked rather old
and decidedly dirty.

Very different was the apparel of the youngest
squaw. Her dress was a new and very pretty
calico; her leggings n ade of white fine doe-skin,
with long fringes; her moccasins were gayly orna-
mented with beads and sundry devices worked into
them with colored thread; while her blanket was
a new one, being a bright crimson with a black
In addition, this young mother was adorned with
bracelets of some kind of metal; had several silver
rings on her fingers, shell ear-rings in her ears,
and a chain of shells woven through her hair.. Her
papoose was dressed in a single garment, none
too long, but adorned with beads and bits of col-
ored ribbon.
The Indian who had come in with me took a
seat at my right, and in a few minutes we were
joined by the other. They both produced pipes,
and I took out mine to keep them company, offer-
ing to each a little fine tobacco that I had loose in
one of my pockets. We smoked for a few minutes
in perfect silence; then one of the Indians said a
few words in his own tongue to the sick squaw,
who, raising her eyes, said to me:
"Jeta mica nanitch ?" (What are you looking
Mica nanitch curtins," I answered, four Bos-
ton man curtins, three Boston clutcheman curtins,
six Indian curtins, three pappoose clutcheman cur-
tins "-all of which meant that I was looking for
four American horses, three American mares, six
Indian ponies, and three colts.
Branded ?" she asked.
Yes, here," I answered, pointing to my left
shoulder, and drawing on the leaf of my note-book
a mark like'this: 0 All stockmen have a brand of
their own, made of iron, which is heated and the
stock marked with it, sometimes on the shoulder,
sometimes on the flanks.
A few words passed between the old woman and
the two men, and then she gave me to understand
that they knew where the horses were, and.would
get them for me in the morning.
Meanwhile, the two who had been working set
about getting supper. One produced a sack of
flour and stirred up a pan of dough; the other
took down a couple of dried salmon from a string
of them which hung from one of the poles. These
she placed each upon a stick, and then building a
fire, set them before it to toast. Next she took
down some pieces of dried meat, from which she
cut a number of thin slices.
The dough having been more or less kneaded,
squaw number one raked out some of the ashes,
and then proceeded to divide the dough into small
cakes, which she laid in the ashes to bake. Sun-
dry preparations of dried berries were added to the


repast; and having eaten nothing since morning, I
am free to confess that not only had I a good appe-
tite, but that I found myself able to make a right
hearty meal. Water was the only drink offered.
The food was served upon tin dishes. The two
male Indians and myself ate first, and the two
squaws who had prepared the meal waited upon
us. After we had finished, the four squaws took
their turn. I noticed that the youngest partook

two pairs of blankets were laid upon that, another
robe placed over all, and the bed was ready.
Although I was very tired and glad to lie down,
my rest was remarkable chiefly for its restlessness.
Few nights have seemed longer to me than did
this, and I was heartily glad when morning came
and the occupants of the lodge began to move.
The older squaws were up first; but the men soon
followed, and with them I went outside. A num-

S; --

PL~_ 3

al~, ,,,";;


freely of the dried berries, while the others did not
touch them.
After supper we took to our pipes again. There
were but few attempts to talk; my hosts gave me
of their best, but evidently did not care to be inti-
mate. It was only when I began to wind-up my
watch that they showed anything bordering upon
curiosity, and I readily showed it to them, opening
the cases and letting them see the works.
During the evening three or four Indians came
in, sat down, smoked a good deal, talked but little,
and finally went away. About nine o'clock the
squaws began to make up the beds. There seemed
to be an abundance of robes and blankets in the
lodge, and the process of bed-making was very
simple. First, a robe was spread upon the ground,

ber of horses were picketed below the village.
Taking two, each tied a lariat around the lower
jaw of his animal, and, mounting bareback, they
were soon out of sight.
During their absence, I made my way into the
salmon-houses. Poles were stretched across, and
to these were fastened a vast number of salmon.
The process of curing is very simple. Each fish
when caught is split open, the entrails taken out, a
short stick inserted at the widest part to keep it
open, and then it is put on the poles with thousands
of others and allowed to partially dry. They are
then put in the large houses before mentioned, a
slow fire built under them, and they are slowly
smoked until thoroughly cured.
In less than half-an-hour I heard loud hallooes



and trampling outside, and, going out, found my
night's hosts coming back driving a large band of
horses before them, among which I could see some
of my own. All were driven into a huge corral,
and then we went into breakfast, which meal was
much the same in kind and quality as the supper
had been.
Having finished, I handed the two squaws who
had done the work a half-dollar each. The younger
of the two kept hers; the other passed her money
to the pretty one. I drew my own conclusions and
passed out.

Going to the corral, the Indians immediately
got inside, and with their lariats caught my horses
one after the other with great rapidity. When all
were outside, the horse I had ridden the day be-
fore was brought up, with the saddle, bridle, and
blankets. These I put on to one of my other
horses, and then turned to settle with my Indian
friends. A plug of tobacco and a small coin to
each seemed to satisfy them; and throwing myself
into the saddle, I was soon making my way up the
Wawawa, and, once upon level ground, made rapid
time home.


I KNOW a little creature,
In a green bed,
With the softest wrappings
All around her head.

When she grows old,
She is hard and can't feel;
So they take her to the mill,
And make her into meal.



SusY DIMOCK came home from school one after-
noon, full of fun, and danced about the room in
great delight, as she saw her mother watching her
with a puzzled expression.
What's the matter with you, Susy ? asked
Mrs. Dimock at last: somehow you look differ-
ent from usual. What have you been doing to
yourself? 0, I see, it is the hat Whose hat is it,
dear, and where is your own ? "
0, mamma, it is such fun exclaimed Susy.
Jenny Paine and I have changed hats for a
week. I think hers is prettier than mine,-don't
you ? I like a blue wing ever so much better than
a red one."
It is a very pretty hat, and I am afraid you
will injure it," said Mrs. Dimock, anxiously, as
Susy tossed it in the air. I think you had better
take it right back to Jenny, and get your own."
0, mother, I can't! She lives half a mile the
other side of the school-house, and it looks just as
if it was going to rain! We've changed for a
week. She don't care,-she thinks mine is the
Well, be careful of it as you can, then," re-

plied her mother. '"You had better hang it up,
and get. ready for supper. Your father sent up
word this afternoon that Uncle Henry is in town,
and he will bring him home with him."
"0, how splendid!" cried Susy. "I am so
glad, I don't know what to do; only I wish Cousin
Hat had come too."
And away she ran joyously, only stopping for
a second to hang Jenny Paine's hat on her
nail. When papa came up the street with good-
natured, sun-burnt Uncle Henry, there was an
eager little face pressed against the window-frame
watching for them; and when they reached the
door Susy was there before them, shouting with
Uncle Henry was a favorite guest, but he did
not come half often enough, Susy thought; and as
for her Cousin Hatty, she had not seen her for
more than a year. One of her first questions was
about Hatty.
"She's learned to row," said Uncle Henry.
"She goes,out with me in my fishing-boat, and
helps pull in the nets."
Oh !" exclaimed Susy, breathlessly, how per-


fectly beautiful! I wish I could go in a boat too;
but there is n't any water here. Papa, why don't
we live by the water ?"
"Go home with me," said Uncle Henry:
" that's one of my errands. Hatty will be on the
look-out for you to-morrow night. I shall have to
come up to the city again next week, and will bring
you home then, if you can't stay any longer."
0, mother, may I ?" cried Susy, all in excite-
Why, I don't like to have you lose a week of
school," said Mrs. Dimock.
"Never mind that," interposed Mr. Dimock.
" It will do her good. She will come back and
study all the better after a week on the shore,
among the sea-weeds and mussels."
So it was all arranged. Uncle Henry was to
start early the next morning; so Susy's packing
had to be done that night; and she could hardly
get to sleep after it, so many visions of Hatty, and
boats, and waves, danced before her eyes. It was
not until morning, when it was almost time to go,
and she was beginning to get her things together,
that she remembered that Jenny Paine had her
"There, now, that is too bad !" said Mrs.
Dimock; I don't believe you can go, after all,
Susy. There is no time to send for your hat."
Susy was almost crying.
0, mother, I must go," she exclaimed; "I
may never have such a chance again in all my life.
I can wear Jenny's hat; she wont care, and we
changed for a week. I should wear it a week any-
how, so what difference does it make? "
I 'm afraid you will spoil it," said her mother,
No, I wont. I'll be just as careful And
Jenny has mine, so it is all fair."
"Well, then," said Mrs. Dimock, wavering,
you must be very, very careful, and not wear it
out on the water. I packed your old flat in the
trunk, and you must wear that every time you go
Yes, I will," replied Susy, putting on her
things in the greatest hurry, for Uncle Henry was
waiting; and then in a minute more she had said
good-bye, and was speeding away with him to the
depot, looking very eager and pretty in Jenny
Paine's hat with the blue wing.
There was a ride in the cars for about an hour,
and then a steamboat took them down the river to
the Sound. This was very interesting to Susy, the
river-banks were so lovely all the way, and they
stopped at so many curious little places. At last,
as the boat was nearing a queer, small wharf,
where only two or three people were waiting, and
one horse and wagon, Uncle Henry started up and

told Susy to follow him, for they were to land
here. As soon as they were on the wharf, the boat
steamed away from them, and went on down the
Sound. Uncle Henry and Susy got into the wagon
and drove along the shore road, almost all the
time in sight of the water. When they had gone
about three miles, they came suddenly right out
upon the beach, and there Susy saw a girl run-
ning toward them laughing, with the wind blow-
ing back her hair. It was Hatty; and Uncle
Henry's house was close by.
And now commenced a week of wild delight for
Susy. She and Hatty almost lived out of doors
in the sunshine and salt air. They made caves in
the sand, and took off their shoes and stockings,
so they could run barefoot in the edge of the waves.
They gathered ribbon-weed and snap-weed; they
picked up scallop-shells and tom-toms; they rock-
ed in the boat as she lay tied to a stake; and now
and then, when Uncle Henry was by to keep a
look-out, Hatty took her little cousin rowing, and
gave her lessons in the handling of an oar.
And what did Susy wear on her head all this
time ? For two days she wore the old flat, but the
wind made it flap in her face so, that she was
hardly sorry when one morning a brisk gust swept
it off from her head, and whirled it out to sea. It
looked so funny when it began to float, like a
great yellow pancake, and then in a few minutes it
gave up, and went down among the crabs and
Now I shall have to wear Jenny Paine's hat,"
said Susy.
She could not think of anything else to do, and
she meant to be very, very careful of it. She knew
she would n't hurt it.
And sure enough she did n't, the first day. But
the next, a shower came up while they were out in
the boat, and the hat got a wetting as well as the
But one shower don't hurt a hat much," said
Susy, as she stroked out the blue feathers in the
wing; "and like as not Jenny would have got
caught in the rain herself, if she had worn the hat
to school to-day."
Well, the shower did h't hurt it so-very much,-
not near so much as the sprinklings of salt spray
it got every day after that, when the girls were in
the boat practicing at feathering their oars. And
even that was but nothing compared with what
happened the day they went with Uncle Henry to
dig clams.
It was the day before Susy was to go home, and
she had not been clamming once; so Uncle Henry
said he would take her that very afternoon.
"0, Pigeon Cove 1 cried Hatty, clapping her
hands; can't we go to Pigeon Cove, papa ?"




'Why yes, we can," he said; "but then we
must start before dinner, so you had better put up
a lunch."
That was easily done, for no one in the world
knew better than Aunt Ann how to put up a
lunch for a boating party, and she soon packed
a large basket with the good things that hungry
people like to eat out of doors. And it was not
very long before they were sailing with a brisk
wind out over the waves in the direction of Pigeon
0, how pretty cried Susy, as they sprang

" I '11 agree to do the rest of the clam-digging, if
you'll go and get dinner ready up there in the
That was a splendid plan. The girls ran in
great glee to the boat, and lifted out the lunch-
"Why don't you leave your hat here in the
boat? said Hatty to Susy; you won't need it
under the trees, and you might catch it in the
That's a real good plan," said Susy; "1
believe I will leave it here. If it was my own, I

I 1

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ashore half an hour later on a white beach, all
wide and wet, for the tide was low. A grove of
maples reached down almost to the sand, and
there were plenty of wild lilies in blossom among
the rocks.
Now let's dig clams," said Hatty,-" it is
such fun I "
And so it was, for a little while; but by and by
the girls began to run races from the rocks to the
trees. They were tired of bending down on the
"Look here, kittens called out Uncle Henry;
VOL. 11.-50.

would n't care; but I must be careful, because it is
Jenny Paine's hat."
Then away they went with the basket, and
found a beautiful place under the trees quite a way
off in the grove, to spread the feast. It took them
quite a good while, because they stopped to deco-
rate the pies and the biscuits with wreaths of
But at last the dinner was all ready, and they
called Uncle Henry, who presently appeared un-
der the trees with a pitcher of cool spring water.
What fun they had! Everything tasted so



good, and the birds sang so loud, and they were
all so merry. Susy thought it was really the
very best time that she had ever had in her whole
Now," said Uncle Henry, as he rose up from
the grass, you can put the dishes back, and then
come right down to the boat. The tide is rising
too high for us to dig very many more clams,
and so we may as well be getting ready to start for
He strode away through the trees, and Hatty
and Susy followed him at their leisure with the
lightened basket. When they reached the shore,
Uncle Henry was standing by the boat, waiting
for them.
Why, where are all the clams? asked Hatty,
looking around on the sand.
"In the boat," said her father; I tossed
them in as fast as I got my basket full. There 's
as much as three pecks, I '11 venture."
The girls ran down to the boat, and climbed in.
Susy cast a frightened glance at the bow, and
almost screamed. Where, 0, where was Jenny
Paine's hat, which she had laid so very carefully
in the bottom of the boat not more than two hours
before ?
''Why, I must ha' thrown all the clams straight
down on it! exclaimed Uncle Henry, when he
heard the trouble. "I declare that's too bad,
Susy, but just wait a minute, and I'11 get it right
out for you."
He thrust his hands in among and under the
wet sandy clams, and the bits of dripping sea-
weed, and he presently seized upon a strange some-
thing, which, after some little tugging and twist-
ing, he pulled out.
Was it Jenny Paine's hat-that crushed, stained,
shapeless heap of straw and draggled velvet, and
broken bits of blue feathers?
"It's too bad whispered Hatty, sympathiz-
ingly, as she wound her arm around poor droop-
ing Susy, who looked so utterly dismayed at the
shocking sight.
I don't know what mother will say," said
Susy, forlornly, and I don't know what Jenny
Paine's mother will say."
It can't be helped now," said Uncle Henry,
ruefully; "no use crying for spilt milk. You
know it '11 be all the same a hundred years from
now "
And with this poor comfort they sailed slowly
home. The afternoon sun streamed brilliantly
over the water, and the sky was as cloudless as
the sea, but Susy could not enjoy it with that
poor wreck of Jenny Paine's hat lying before her
eyes. Hatty tried to say funny things, and Uncle
Henry spoke a cheerful word now and then, but

Susy sat sober and quiet, thinking of what her
mother had said to her about not wearing the
When they reached the shore and went up to
the house, Aunt Ann came to the rescue, and did
her best with the poor little hat. She pressed the
straw, and steamed the velvet, and trimmed the
feathers. It .was a battered-looking thing, after
all her pains, but it would do for Susy to wear
going home, if she kept her brown veil over it, to
hide it from public view.
The next morning early, Uncle Henry and Susy
became travelers again. They said good-bye to
Aunt Ann and Hatty, and drove off in the wagon
to the steamboat wharf. Before dark Susy was at
home. Her mother hardly knew her when she
came into the house, she looked so healthy and so
sun-burnt, and so very sober, and had such a dilap-
idated hat on her head, tied around with the brown
Mrs. Dimock did not say much. She was glad
Susy had had such a good visit, and she did not
want to darken the end of it with reproaches,
especially when Susy felt so sorry already. She
knew there were milliners enough in town, too, to
replace Jenny Paine's hat.
So the very next day Susy sallied forth with her
mother, carrying the hat in a brown paper, and
they went to the promptest milliner in town with
their errand.
You can make it by this, you know," said
Susy, after telling her business; make it just
exactly like what this was, with the blue wing and
I can do that," said the milliner. It shall
be a perfect copy, and you shall have it to-morrow
At this moment another lady with a little girl
entered the store, and they too brought a hat
done up in brown paper. The lady unwrapped it
and handed it to the milliner. It looked as if it
had been trampled under foot in the mud, but it
had been once quite a pretty hat with a red
"I want you to find a hat exactly like this,"
said the lady, and trim it exactly in the same
Just then the two little girls looked at each
other, and exclaimed in the same breath:
Why, Jenny Paine !"
"Why, Susy Dimock! "
The milliner smiled. She was the first to catch
the joke. The two battered hats lay side by side,
and told their own story.
I have been worried about that hat all the
week," said Mrs. Paine to Mrs. Dimock; "for
Jenny is so heedless And what must she do yes-





terday afternoon but run over to the neighbors'
where they are digging a well, and while her
inquisitive little head was bent forward looking
down, away went the hat into the depths, and the
Irishman down there trod it fairly under the mud

while he was trying to find it. I must say I don't
feel quite so mortified about it now, as I did before
this happy meeting You will have fine new hats,
girls, after all, but I beg of you, don't exchange
them any more "


'I.- "C

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II., I i
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SWEET Lady Pea, fly hither to me !
Light and white are your wings, I see.

Golden Rod, touch me, I pray you, over
The thousand heads of the low, sweet clover.

Snap-dragon, quick There's a bee in your bonnet! "
Pinch him and send him off thinking upon it.

Lily-bell, whisper and tell me true,-
What was the humming-bird saying to you?

Poppy, flaunting your silken dress,
You 'll yet wear a seedy cap, I guess.

Buttercup, bring your gold saucers to me;
Here are two butterflies coming to tea.

Daisy, Daisy, look over this way!
Why do you stare at the sun all day?

Pansy, what are you laughing about?
"Born to the purple" were you, no doubt.

But Violet sweet! 0 Violet sweet!
Fairer are you at the Pansy's feet.


. -_




Amanda [coming in with a few graduates].
Mother, the exhibition is over, and I have brought
the whole class home to the collation.
Mother. The whole class But I only expected
a few.
Amanda. The rest are coming. I brought Julie
and Clara and Sophie with me. [A voice is heard.]
Here are the rest.
Mother. Why, no. It is Mrs. Peterkin and
Elizabeth Eliza !
Amanda. Too late for the exhibition. Such a
shame But in time for the collation.
Mother [to herself]. If the ice-cream will go
Amanda. But what made you so late? Did you
miss the train ? This is Elizabeth Eliza, girls-you
have-heard me speak of her. What a pity you
were too late !
Mrs. Peterkin. We tried to come; we did our
Mother. Did you miss the train ? Did n't you
get my postal-card ?
Mrs. Peterkin. We had nothing to do with the
Amanda. You don't mean you walked?
Mrs. Peterkin. Oh no, indeed !
Elizabeth Eliza. We came in a horse and carry-
Julia. I always wondered how anybody could
come in a horse !
Amanda. You are too foolish, Julie. They
came in the carryall part. But did n't you start
in time?
Mrs. Peterkin. It all comes from the carryall
being so hard to turn. I told Mr. Peterkin we
should get into trouble with one of those carryalls
that don't turn easy.
Elizabeth Eliza. They turn easy enough in the
stable, so you can't tell.
Mrs. Peterkin. Yes; we started with the little
boys and Solomon John on the back seat, and
Elizabeth Eliza on the front. She was to drive,
and I was to see to the driving. But the horse was
not faced toward Boston.
Mother. And you tipped over in turning round !
Oh, what an accident!

Amanda. And the little boys-where are they?
Are they killed ?
Elizabeth Eliza. The little boys are all safe. We
left them at the Pringles', with Solomon John.
Mother. But what did happen?
Mrs. Peterkin. We started the wrong way.
Mother. You lost your way, after all ?
Elizabeth Eliza. No; we knew the way well
Amanda. It's as plain as a pike-staff !
Mrs. Peterkin. No; we had the horse faced in
the wrong direction, toward Providence.
Elizabeth Eliza. And mother was afraid to have
me turn, and we kept on and on till we should
reach a wide place.
Mrs. Peterkin. I thought we should come to a
road that would veer off to the right or left, and
bring us back to the right direction.
Mother. Could not you all get out and turn the
thing round ?
Mrs. Peterkin. Why, no; if it had broken down
we should not have been in anything, and could
not have gone anywhere.
Elizabeth Eliza. Yes, I have always heard it
was best to stay in the carriage whatever hap-
Julia. But nothing seemed to happen.
Mrs. Peterkin. Oh, yes; we met one .man after
another, and we asked the way to Boston.
Elizabeth Eliza. And all they would say was,
" Turn right round-you are on the road to Provi-
Mrs. Peterkin. As if we could turn right round!
That was just what we could n't.
Mother. You don't mean you kept on all the way
to Providence?
Elizabeth Eliza. 0 dear, no We kept on and
on, till we met a man with a black hand-bag-
black leather I should say.
Julia. He must have been a book-agent.
Mrs. Peterkin. I dare say he was; his bag seemed
heavy. He set it on a stone.
Mother. I dare say it was the same one that
came here the other day. He wanted me to buy
the "History of the Aborigines, brought up from
earliest times to the present date," in four volumes.
I told him I had n't time to read so much. He
said that was no matter, few did, and it was n't



much worth it-they bought books for the look of
the thing.
Amanda. Now, that was illiterate; he never
could have graduated. I hope, Elizabeth Eliza,
you had nothing to do with that man.
Elizabeth Eliza. Very likely it was not the same
Mother. Did he have a kind of pepper-and-salt
suit, with one of the buttons worn ?
Mrs. Peterkin. I noticed one of the buttons was
Amanda. We're off the subject. Did you buy
his book ?
Elizabeth Eliza. He never offered us his book.
Mrs. Peterkin. He told us the same story-we
were going to Providence; if we wanted to go to
Boston, we must turn directly round.
Elizabeth Eliza. I told him I could n't; but
he took the horse's head, and the first thing I
knew -
Amanda. He had yanked you round !
Mrs. Peterkin. I screamed; I could n't help it
Elizabeth Eliza. I was glad when it was over !
Mother. Well, well; it shows the disadvantage
of starting wrong.
* Mrs. Peterkin. Yes, we came straight enough
when the horse was headed right, but we lost time.
Elizabeth Eliza. I am sorry enough I lost the
exhibition, and seeing you take the diploma,
Amanda. I never got the diploma myself. I came
near it.
Mrs. Peterkin. Somehow, Elizabeth Eliza never
succeeded. I think there was partiality about the
Elizabeth Eliza. I never was good about re-
membering things. I studied well enough, but,
when I came to say off my lesson, I could n't think
what it was. Yet I could have answered some of
the other girls' questions.
Julia. It's odd how the other girls always have
the easiest questions.
Elizabeth Eliza. I never could remember poetry.
There was only one thing I could repeat.
Amanda. Oh, do let us have it now; and then
we 'llrecite to you some of our exhibition pieces.
Elizabeth Eliza. I'll try.
Mrs. Peterkin. Yes, Elizabeth Eliza, do what
you can to help entertain Amanda's friends.
[All stand looking at Elizabeth Eliza, who
remains silent and thoughtful.
Elizabeth Eliza. I'm trying to think what it is
about. You all know it. You remember, Amanda
-the name is rather long.
Amanda. It can't be Nebuchadnezzar, can it ?-
that is one of the longest names I know.

Elizabeth Eliza. Oh dear, no !
Julia. Perhaps it's Cleopatra.
Elizabeth Eliza. It does begin with a "C"-
only he was a boy.
Amanda. That's a pity, for it might be "We
are seven," only that is a girl. Some of them were
Elizabeth Eliza. It begins about a boy-if I
could only think where he was. I can't remember.
Amanda. Perhaps he stood upon the burning
deck ? "
Elizabeth Eliza. That's just it; I knew he stood
Amanda. Casabianca Now begin-go ahead !
Elizabeth Eliza.
The boy stood on the burning deck,
When-when -
I can't think who stood there with him.
Julia. If the deck was burning, it must have
been on fire. I guess the rest ran away, or jumped
into boats.
Amanda. That's just it.
Whence all but him had fled."

Elizabeth Eliza. I think I can say it now.
"The boy stood on the burning deck,
Whence all but him had fled -
[She hesitates.] Then I think he went -
Julia. Of course, he fled after the rest.
Amanda. Dear, no! That's the point. He
did n't.
"The flames rolled on, he would not go
Without his father's word."

Elizabeth Eliza. Oh, yes. Now I can say it.
"The boy stood on the burning deck,
Whence all but him had fled;
The flames rolled on, he would not go
Without his father's word."
But it used to rhyme. I don't know what has hap-
pened to it.
Mrs. Peterkin. Elizabeth Eliza is very particular
about the rhymes.
Elizabeth Eliza. It must be "without his father's
head," or, perhaps, "without his father said" he
Julia. I think you must have omitted some-
Amanda. She has left out ever so much !
Mother. Perhaps it's as well to omit some, for
the ice-cream has come, and you must all come
Amanda. And here are the rest of the girls;
and let us all unite in a song !
[Exeunt omnes, singing.]



, .,r. ,, -**' ^^ ._


WHO says the American flag is red, white and
blue to-day? I call it red, yellow and brown. At
any rate, these are the colors that now are waving
about me. They are not all unfurled yet, these
beautiful American flags, but lean folded here and
there amid the green, waiting in the sunlight for
the ripe hour that shall set them free in all their
Ah, what a world.this is, my darlings-how rich
and beautiful-how well worth being thankful for !
I don't believe any one of us is in the least worthy
of it. But somehow it is blessed to feel that as one
of God's great family each of us may take fresh
possession of it every morning in joy and thanks-
Now do you want to hear about

HAVE you heard the news, my pets ? The birds
are full of it, and they wish me to tell it to the army
of Bird-defenders, with their compliments. The
spire of Strasburg is no longer the highest in
Europe. What is, then? Why, the spire of St.
Nicholas, to be sure-the great church of St. Nich-
olas, lately completed at Hamburg! Strasburg
sends its beautiful steeple 466 feet into the air, but
St. Nicholas tops this by six feet-a clear reach of
472 feet, my beloved-the highest spire in Christ-
DID you ever try to count the stars? I used
to try to do so myself, but somehow I always fell
asleep before I could get through, and when I woke
up I could not tell where I left off. I'm told,
though, that it has been done, and that there are
only about eight thousand visible to the naked eye.
Don't they make a great show for a number no

larger than that? But the Raven tells me that his
master, the Astronomer, says that those we can
see with our eyes alone are but a very trifle com-
pared with the number that he can see through his
telescope. He says, for instance, that there are
eighteen millions of stars in the Milky Way. Now
it's of no use I can't even think of such a
number as that. My head is n't big enough to
hold them.
Macon, Georgia.
DEAR JACK: I want to tell you of something rather curious: Some
years since, I occupied a Summer residence in Georgia, surrounded
by mimosa-trees of a fine, feathery foliage, with pods rather shorter
than those of the sweet locust. These pods were filled with hard,
shiny brown seed, often used by the children for making baskets,
bracelets and necklaces. For several days I noticed, after dark, a
great rustling in the tree near my window, as if the birds on its boughs
were peculiarly restless. I did not, however, pay them much atten-
tion till one evening, sitting by the window in the twilight, leaning
on the sill and enjoying the cool air, I gradually became conscious
that the birds were very odd. They seemed to have no wings, and
their tails were long and stringy, whisking from side to side, as they
ran back and forward with great agility along the crooked limbs.
After gazing with increasing wonder for some moments, I called the
children. The moment they arrived, the birds disappeared; but,
standing quiet as mice, we soon saw first one, then another small
head, with its black, sharp eyes, peer from under the eaves of the
house, then spring quickly to the nearest branch; and we now dis-
covered that our birds were not birds at all. They were not even
flying squirrels, but large brown rats, that lived and flourished in our
roof, and came out to regale themselves upon the seed of the mimosa,
and gambol among its boughs. We saw one greedy rat, in his eager-
ness to secure a very tempting pod, slip from the branch with a
squeak of fright, instantly answered by a squeak of pain from an-
other, as, in his frantic efforts to catch hold of something, he caught
his neighbor's hanging tail in his mouth. This second rat, in his
desperate endeavors to get away, dragged the hanging rat near
enough to grasp a limb and release the suffering tail. During this
struggle, the whole colony stood still, looking on, and squeaking in
sympathy. The pulling and crunching of pods to get the seed, and
the dropping of empty shells on the ground, sounded like the soft
pattering of rain.
The children and I amused ourselves till supper-time throwing
brooms, brushes, and shoes into the tree, to see on the instant the
busy crowd disappear like magic, but with none of the flutter and
twittering of birds. They would be gone without a sound. These
tree rats were a source of interest the whole Summer, and we spent
many pleasant hours trying to distinguish them apart, giving names
to some and counting the baby rats added occasionally to the crowd.
M. G. B-

AT recess, on the last day before "vacation"
began, the pretty schoolmistress brought a story to
the meadow, which she had written specially for
the children. It seemed to me a very straight story
when she read it aloud; but from the way in which
the little creatures laughed as they crowded about
her and looked at the writing, I'm sure there must
have been something very crooked about it, after
all. Soon she said, to my delight:
I think, my dears, we '11 send this story to ST.
NICHOLAS. You '11 notice that every word in it is
spelled correctly, in itself,-that is, you can find
each one in any dictionary. Now what is the mat-
ter with it ?"
"Ha, ha!" they shouted. "Ha, ha!" But
one bright little fellow added:
You've put in words that are pronounced the
same, but they have a different meaning,-so
they 're the wrong words "
"Yes," laughed the schoolmistress,' you 're
right. They are the wrong words. The spelling
of each is quite correct, but many of the words are
wrong. Yet if the right words were put in place




of these, the story, if read aloud, would sound ex-
actly the same as it does now-would n't it ?"
Yes, ma'am yes, ma'am !" cried one and all.
Very well, then," said she. Now, when you
find it printed in ST. NICHOLAS, will you all write
it out for me with the proper words, so that it will
be correct and yet sound exactly as it does now? "
Yes oh yes they cried eagerly.
[Now, dear editor, please put the pretty school-
mistress' story in here, so that my children, thou-
sands of them, can try too, and send what they
write to me in care of ST. NICHOLAS magazine.
If they'll send the thing correctly written out in
their own handwriting, I'11 print the best in these
pages, and acknowledge all the good ones.]
Now, my pets, set to work Send in your ver-
sions. Jack would like to have a pile as big as a
A rite suite little baoy, the sun of a grate kernel, with a rough
about his neck, flue up the rode swift as eh dear. After a thyme, he
had stopped at a gnu house and wrung the belle His tow hurt hymn,
and he kneaded wrest. He was two tired too raze his fare, pail face.
A feint mown of pane rows from his lips.
The made who herd the belle was about to pair a pare, but she
through it down and ran with awl her mite, four fear her guessed
wood knot weight,
Butt wen she sore the little won, tiers stood in her eyes at the site.
"Ewe poor deer Why due w e Ahyew lye ear Ah dyeing?"
Know," he side. "I am feint two thee corps."
She boar hymn in her alms, as she aught, too a rheum ware he
mite bee quiet, gave him bred and meet, held cent under his knows,
tide his choler, rapped him warmly, gave him some sweet drachm
from a viol, till at last he went fourth hal as a young hoarse. His eyes
shown, his cheek was read as a flour, and he gambled a hole our.

You would n't think it, but I'm told it is ac-
tually so, that very high mountains increase in size
every year. This is owing to the great quantities
of snow which fall upon their tops. Some of this
snow slowly melts and runs down the mountain-
sides; but much remains, and so the mountains
grow higher, year by year, as each season's snow
falls upon that left there the year before.

HATTIE WHEELER writes to Jack:
I like ST. NICHOLAS ever so much. I think the illustrations of
Johnny Spooner's Menagerie" are so good !-if I were only a boy
I should get up one. I like Miss Alcott's story of Eight Cousins
more than any of her other stories.
Jack asks if any of his young friends can tell him why a certain
wealthy farmer, who offered $10,000 for a full set of cow's teeth, lower
and upper, cannot get what he wants. The reason he cannot is-
cows have no upper front teeth, but have large teeth back, which are
called grinders. These are used for chewing the cud.
Hattie is right according to some authorities, and
wrong according to others. Cows have no upper
front teeth, that's certain; but as for upper back
grinders, I'm not so sure. I never had the pleas-
ure of seeing the inside of a cow's mouth with my
own eyes; and it so happens that all growing
things of my acquaintance that ever went in to
investigate, never came out again to give any re-
port. Perhaps some stout farmer's boy will solve
the mystery. For my part, I'd sooner trust a
butcher's opinion than a farmer's, for farmers seem
to differ on the subject. Is a cow's upper jaw just
like a sheep's (as far as teeth are concerned) or
not-and, if not, what next ?

"The Farm."
DEAR JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT: You know I am very domestic-very
old-fashioned, and get little credit for anything but nonsense. So you
see, I was wonderfully surprised the other day when a school-girl
said I ought to be ranked with the classic poets-that my pictures
were just as good as some in the grand old mythology of the Greeks
and Romans. She begged me to accept her interpretation of my
"Song of Sixpence," in token of regard. Here it is:
'Every day's a dainty pie,
Earth the dish-the cover, sky.
Four and twenty hours make
Royal birds therein to bake.
King of Day, the golden sun,
Counts his beams out one by one.
Silver moon, the Queen of Night,
Sips, for honey, rays of light.
Rosy Dawn, maid first to rise,
Hangs bright clouds across the skies.
Birds aye sing at break of day;
Sunrise drives fair Dawn away.
Mother Goose, how could you know?
Did the blackbirds tell you so ?"
Between you and me, dear Jack, do you think she found that all
out herself? If she did-well, I'11 leave it with you. You have the
best tact in stirring up young thoughts. I know it will be new to
some one.-Your friend, MOTHER GOOSE.

WHO among you can tell me right off which are
the largest of living things ?
Hurrah i TREES, eh? Of course they are; but
one is not apt to think of them at first. Elephants,
whales, and such stupendous fellows pop into one's
head instead; but what are they for size by the
side of a grand oak, a splendid hickory, a cedar of
Lebanon, or one of the big trees of California !
And what a baby the oldest living creature is
compared with a really old tree Did ever you
hear of the famous dragon-tree on the Island of
Teneriffe, which died about eight years ago, after
standing 5,000 years? There's a green old age
for you I never had a chance, as you know, to
count the rings of this tree myself; but scientific
professors have published its length of years, and I
suppose we must take their word for it.

WHO can tell the meaning of "hurrah?" Jack
used it just now a little thoughtlessly, considering
its true sense. The pretty schoolma'am says it
originated among Eastern nations, where it was
used as a war-cry, from the belief that all who died
in battle went to heaven.
To Paradise (hurrag!) men shouted to one
another, by way of encouragement, in the thickest
of the fight; and so, in time, came our word
"hurrah!" which means almost anything you
choose, so that it be of good cheer.

IT is n't likely that any of my children ever saw
one of these horses, or that many of them ever will
see one. There are only a few, and these are found
in the deep coal-mines of Belgium. There, where
horses have been kept for many years so far down
in the damp earth away from the sun, their coats
become of a thick, soft, velvety fur, like that of the
mole. Poor fellows It must be dreadful to be a
horse that never can sniff the sunshine, nor roll on
the long, fresh grass !





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DONKEYS are almost always meek, quiet little fellows, who look as if
they would stand any abuse or bad treatment, but sometimes they show
that they have spirit enough. Of course there are bad donkeys, who will
kick and behave wickedly at any time, like some boys and girls, so that
it is a surprise to see them behave well.
But the donkey I am going to tell you about was nearly always as
quiet as he seems in the picture, putting his head over the fence to
take a bite of tender grass. But he was very brave indeed, as you will
see. He lived in a menagerie-which you know is a wild-beast show-
in one of our Western cities. There were a great many savage beasts
in this menagerie, and one day a fierce lioness broke out of her cage.
She ran around to see who she could bite, and she met this donkey, who
was allowed to go loose because he would not hurt anything. So she
made a great jump at him and took hold of him with her teeth; but the
donkey was so quick and spirited that he got away from her. Then the
lioness made another great spring upon him, but this time Mr. Donkey
was ready for her.
He turned his back to her, and, when she came near him, he gave
her a great kick with both his hind-feet at once, and rolled her over like
a ball. She came at him again and again, but every time his strong
heels were ready for her, and every time the brave donkey kicked her
over on her back. At last she had enough of Mr. Donkey's kicks, and
she ran away from him. She did not know before how well a brave
donkey could fight.
You have often heard about lions, which are so strong and courageous
that they are called the kings of beasts, and perhaps you have seen some
of them shut up in a cage when you have been taken to a wild beast
show. But it is not likely that you thought that one of these great
creatures could ever be conquered by a small donkey, who had nothing
to fight with but his heels.
But it often happens that animals, and people too, who are quiet and
modest, are very brave indeed when a time comes when they ought to
show courage.
The lioness had to be shot, for her keepers could not get her back
into her cage. If she had not been shot, I think she would have kept
clear of donkeys the next time she got loose.




CHILDREN, you will have heard of the death of Hans Christian
Andersen before you see this magazine, but you may not yet under-
stand what you have lost, and what we all have lost.
Hans Christian Andersen stood at the head of all writers for chil-
dren. No one wrote stories that were so quaint and rare, so fanciful
and curious, and yet so pure and good and earnest in their teachings.
His mission was not only to young people. Men and women in
many lands wept and laughed over his stories and put them away in
their memories, where they bore good fruit. Jesus Christ once said
to his followers, that unless they became as little children they could
not enter into the kingdom of heaven. By the wonderful power of
his stories, Hans Christian Andersen drew around him thousands of
grown-up people, and he made them all children at heart, and so
helped them, we hope, to be better fit for heaven.
In a future number weshall have a long talk with you about Hans
Christian Andersen.

ST. NICHOLAS: Will you please ask some of the subscribers of the
ST. NICHOLAS to tell me, through the Letter-Box, how to make skel-
eton leaves, and how to preserve Autumn leaves and ferns ?-Yours
truly, NELLIE R. BURT.
Nellie will find an answer to her first question in the Letter-Box of
ST. NICHOLAS for July, r875. Who will answer the second ?

C. A. F.-Your account of the opossum's "playing dead" is very
interesting and amusing; but you may not know that some insects
are just as wise and often resort to the same trick. Many of the
beetle tribe, or coleoptera, feign death when touched, and remain en-
tirely motionless until left to themselves again, when they scamper
off quickly enough. Naturalists tell us, too, that the little borer
familiarly known as the "death-watch," will, when frightened, allow
itself to be singed or drowned rather than make any sign of life. So
the opossums are not the only creatures who endeavor to deceive
their captors in this way.

A FRIEND of ST. NICHOLAS, now in Europe, writes: "On one of
her trips, a steamer from New York to Liverpool ran into an iceberg.
A piece as large as a small house, weighing twenty tons, was broken
off and fell on the deck, crushing it in. The steward told me they cut
it up and used the ice on the ship, and it was the clearest and freshest
of ice, like fresh-water ice. Some of the ST. NICHOLAS children may
be able to tell why salt-water ice is not salt."

C. H. WILLIAMS sends us the following novel statement of his
exact age. Such a great desire for accuracy is certainly unusual.
We only wonder that it did not suggest to our little correspondent the
addition of a postscript, telling just how many of those numerous but
valuable seconds he had spent in the calculation :

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I was iI years old the 27th of March, 1875.
I find that to-day (July i2th, 1875), I am ti years 3 months 2 weeks
i day 12 hours 17 minutes 4 seconds old. When ciphering up, I find
I am 349,679,024 seconds old. C. H. WILLIAMS.

CHARLIE BALDWIN writes that he has heard that some kinds of
azaleas are poisonous, and asks if the report be true. There are
azaleas which exude poisonous juices, though we do not know that
any of them are found in this country. When Charlie is old enough
to read Greek, he will find an account of a misfortune which once
happened from this cause to a whole army. It is related by Xeno-
phon, a celebrated Grecian general, and the leader of a famous march
known as the retreat of the ten thousand." He tells us that the
Grecian soldiers, weak from hunger and constant marching, seized
upon some honey which they chanced to find at a place upon the
route, but that all who ate of it soon after fell to the ground danger-
ously poisoned. Xenophon, we believe, merely states the incident
without trying to explain it. But some wise men of later times have
united in ascribing the result to the bees having imbibed the juices of
a poisonous species of azalea which grew in that region.

HERE is a letter that has come all the way from California to say a
kind word for ST. NICHOLAS and add two names to its army of Bird-
defenders. We are glad to hear from our Western friends, and are
delighted to know that a hearty welcome awaits ST. NICHOLAS in a
host of such far-away homes, whether scattered over the wide plains
or nestled-like the homes of the snow-birds-among the mountain-
crags :
crags: Graniteville, California.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We sojourners, five thousand feet above
the sea, are among the many that eagerly look forward to the arrival
The Flower verses in June number have been filled in by a little
girl whose name is Amy Waters, and who is thirteen years old. She
wishes her name put down as a Bird-defender. My little daughter,
Lizette A. Fisher, who is six years old, also wants to be a Bird-
defender, and to tell you that she, like H. H., has stumbled upon
the Summer home of the snow-birds "high in the upper air."
Amy's answers were credited last month, and her name, with
Lizette's, will be found among the Bird-defenders in another column.

THE picture about which "Little Nell" inquires appeared in ST.
NICHOLAS for June, 1874, as an illustration to the article entitled "A
Famous Garden."

"Love me little, love me long,"
Love me surely, love me strong,
Ever faithful, ever free,
Let thy love encompass me,
While I sleep, and when awake,
Don't forget my ginger-cake;
Bake it nicely before the fire,
And let me eat it before I retire.
By doing this your love you'II show
(If the cake be frosted like beautiful snow),
And proving to me love's lurking still,
In the depths of a miserable calomel pill.
Now all my young friends listen,
While the tear in my eyes doth glisten,
Never trust love in the form of a cake,
But remember who fell by the words of a snake.

Verdi, July 9th, 1875.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have seen letters in the Letter-Box from
almost all the States, but none from Nevada-so I thought I would
write you one. I am eleven years old. I live on the Truckee River.
I have two younger sisters. We live in the country, and there are a
great many birds here; but we do not disturb them or their nests.
In California, where I have been, they cover the fruit-trees with mos-
quito-bar, which is much better than killing the little birds.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I would like to become one of your children
of the Letter-Box. My name is Nellie, and I would like to tell you
about my pets. I wanted a cat,-one of those kind they call Mal-
tese,-but mamma thought as we were living in a hotel a cat would
not do, so I had to give it up. My brother found in the creek a little
cat-fish, and brought him home in a tin pail, and he was so nice, never
giving any trouble, and just as cunning as he could be. He ran
around after himself through the water, and had such fun blowing
bubbles. He would come up to the top of the water, and you could
hear him blow so softly, and the bubbles were so round and pretty.
We used to give him a bath every morning, and he was so fresh and
happy after it. Although he was very ugly, with his long black
horns and big, wide mouth, we loved him. One night brother
thought he would be happier in a glass jar, so that we could see
him better; but the water was too heavy for his dear little body, rnd
the next morning we found him dead in the bottom of the jar. His
horns were quite stiff, and his big mouth shut up tight, and then I
knew he would never blow bubbles any more. I give all my pieces



of crust and cake to the birds now. Is that right? I wish brother
belonged to the Bird-defenders. He shot a beauty with brown and
gold wings, for mamma to wear in her hat, and a squirrel with a
lovely long gray tail. I am sorry for the squirrel, but I like to wear
it in my fur cap-I mean the tail.-Believe me a true friend of ST.

NIMPO" writes: "Do you think it fair to put down a baby's
name for a Bird-defender? I am getting another list, and one boy
says that he will not sign unless his baby-brother's name can be down
too. But I don't think that is the only reason, for he wants to shoot
prairie-chickens this Summer."
No, Nimpo, a baby's name would be an imposition on the army of
Bird-defenders. We want only members who understand what they
are promising to do.

Albert Lea, Minnesota.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: May I be allowed to write to you? I am
not a subscriber, but a little boy in town who is one lets me take you
after he is done with you. I do love you so, and if you will let me, I
should like to have my name put down as a Bird-defender.
I have a question to ask, if I may. It is-Why does corn pop
when put over the fire ? I cannot understand it.
We are glad, Nora, to hear from any of our young friends, whether
subscribers or not; and also to welcome them as Bird-defenders.
The popping of corn is due to a kind of oil, lodged in little dots
within the seeds. When heated, these drops expand and burst, bring-
ing the contents of the grain to the surface by the explosion, which
is the "popping." It is these little oil-dots, too, that make the
kernels of pop-corn so hard and compact. Very few varieties of corn
contain this oily structure, and such as do not cannot be made to pop.

DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: Where do the swallows go when they leave
Ireland ? F. DUNWOODY.
The swallows of Great Britain take their flight into Africa. In the
Autumn, when the season of migration arrives, they cross the English
Channel, and assemble with their companions from the different parts
of the Continent on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea. Here they
often linger for some time, as if afraid to undertake so long a voyage
through the air, which, indeed, proves frequently too long for many
a poor tired wing among their number. The majority, however, cross
safely, always flying in troops, and continuing their journey until
they reach Senegal-their southern home--whence they return in the
Spring to their old nests in the north.

TRANSLATIONS of the Latin story in the July number were received
from Jennie Sinclair Neil, Lawrence Black, Jr., Reba Gregory, Julia
D. Hunter, F. N. Palmer, John G. Jennings, D. R. Bishop, Lucy
M. Sherwood, Beverly Caldwell, and Cyrus Lindley.

MARY O. G writes, telling how she protected a crow from the
assault of a boy, who we hope knew no better, and asks if it is
"wrong, as a Bird-defender, to take just one egg from a nest?"
You deserve a captaincy, Mary, for your gallant defense of the bird,
and we will be glad to enroll you as such; but are you not glad some
one did not deprive you of the gratification of protecting that bird by
taking just that one egg from the nest where he was hatched ? Make
up your company, Mary, and send in the names.

ANDY R. C.-ST. NICHOLAS is decidedly opposed to robbing birds'
nests merely to make a collection of eggs. If they are wanted for a
purely scientific purpose, address "Ornithologist," Box 2477, Boston,
Mass. A nice little bed of ferns, or a case of mosses, will give you
more and pleasanter study, and living growth is better than dry shells
to look upon.

MAMIE B.-We are sorry the blackbirds cannot agree with your
favorite robins and other musical birds, but they are fully as useful in
their way as the singers. In the Spring they hover in small flocks
where the plow is going, and pick up great numbers of all sorts of
grubs, worms, insects' eggs, &c., which would destroy plenty of corn
and other vegetable growth for which the ground is being prepared.
This is true of all of them, but especially the "great," "common,"
and "rusty" crow-blackbirds, and that handsome fellow with red

shoulder-straps, the "red-winged" starling. Then the cow-blackbird
is a warm friend of the cattle, too, and they permit him to hunt his
dinner on their backs. Study the habits of the blackbirds, and you
will forget they are not singers.

E. S. AND A. M. F.-How to keep the cats away from the birds iz
a hard puzzle to answer. Mr. Haskins once said, If I had a favorite
cat, I would feed her until she would be too lazy to catch birds; and
if some one else had a cat that misbehaved in that way-why, I'd
rather save the birds than the cat. Owls and hawks catch more ratrs
and mice than the cats."


Stratford, Conn., August 4th, 1875.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I wish to join the army of Bird-defenders,
and I send you the names of a few other boys who also wish to join.
They are: Ross W. Weir, Willie B. Weir, Louis L. Barton, Jimmie
B. Weir, Willie D. Mead, Charlie D. Mead, Harry M. Johnson, Tom
H. Smith, John B. Vanderveer, Edward B. Vanderveer, Harry L.
Vanderveer, Henry Bayard, \Villie Bayard, Robert Bayard, Tunis S.
Bergen, Geo. T. Bergen, Steve H. Angell, Willie A. Voorhis, Willie
Marshall, Louis Emcrson, Vermie Carroll, Adele Emerson, Lizzie E.
Emerson, Samuel F. Emerson, J. Booth, Nattie H. Demarest, John
F. Beers, Willie D. Mills, John Harris, Schemerhorn Halsted, Chas.
Kurst, Frank Bennet, R. B. Moffat, Bainbridge Hinkley, John Ober-
mier, Frank Slocum, Spencer Wycoff, Reed Moore, Ed. Moore, John
Dolbeare, Jack Shearon, Michael McFlanagan, Charlie Grant, Ed.
Smith, Louis Burritt, Chas. Brown, Ace Teft, Clarence Bedell, Sam
Chauncey, Willie Willard, August Lopsaggeure, F. Spy, Ossey Wil-
son, J. Simpson, Robt Halsted, Rol. Tayleur, Paul Tnison, Geo.
Charles, Mark Hopkins, J. P. Ford, Willie Strong, Archibald Bird-
sail, Dan Bridge, Dan McCabe, and Frank Lockwood.
Here are also a few Chinese boys, who, when I asked them if they
would join the Bird-defenders, were very glad to do so They came
here on a visit to see those four Chinese boys whose names were men-
tioned in the ST. NICHOLAS for August: Wong Kai Kah, L. Yung,
Seung Tun Yen, W. Yang Tsang, Qwong Tong, Wong Set Pow,
Chow Wan Pang, Chu Si Shu, Kee Yung, Tsao Mow Cheong,
Wong Fung Hai, Tgai Gheu Chi, Yun Cheong Kwan, and Cheong
Woo.-Yours truly, WALTER B. EMERSON.
Jennie Oliver sends the following list: Bessie Roberts, Hattie
Jones, Gertie Jones, Jennie Keys, Mollie King, Nellie Kelly, Lizzie
Lindsay, Maggie Glendinning, Susie Teaff, Ella M. Cahill, Lizzie S.
Irwin, Vina Sheet, Lizzie Evans, Sadie Reed, Laura Ferguson, Clare
G. Hubert, Hattie Roberts, Lizzie Spaulding, Ellie Rowon, Mena
Floto, Augusta Floto, Hetty Moreland, Anna Caffmon, Jane
McClure, Ida Withroe, Cam Bansell, Emma Dowey, John C. Oliver,
Campbell Oliver, James G. Oliver, Eddie Bond, Frank Pierce, Stan-
ton McGinnis, George Keith, Husby Mooney, Charlie Hunt, Willie
M. Layton, Chas. Dunbar, James Smith, Rea Cady, Willie Loomis,
Charlie Swards, Charley Phool, Tat Jemison, Eddie Jenison, Anna
Salmon, Nettie McClain, Ella Roberts, Sally Smirthwait, Mary
Johnso, ll on, Molly oo, Rachel Moony, Minnie McKinley, Sally
Bush, Emma Robinson, Kate Engle, Eva Cimeral, Ella Filson, Ida
Stephens, Florence Myers, Cara Hubill, Lena Sturges, Effie Waldren,
Aggie Brinkman, Mary Young, Ella Miller, Russ Jemison, Len
Helms, and Tom Helms.
Geo. Cole sends the following names: Arthur Canon, Harry Vie-
land, Libbie Wilcox, Lucy Wilcox, Frank Wilcox, Sarah Howitt,
Mary Howitt, George Sanderson, Ella Pond, Frank Tilton, Libbie
Tilton, Mary Sorrel, Carrie Warren, Emily E. Hunter, Mary David,
Cara Molow, Bert Fullerton, Harry Remington, Walter Remington,
Sarah Remington, Josie Remingto, George Graves, Harris Cook,
Harry Williams, Edward Bush, Carrie Bush, Mary Bush, Ella Cary,
George Trites, Kittie Owen, Fannie Sauer, Emily Royce, Frank
Royce, Elmer Davison, Curtis Williamson, George Bruton, Herbert
Beebe, John Andrews, Walter Gaylord, Frank Nelson, George L.
Dell, Thomas Hunt, Frank Hunt, George Hunt, Samuel Hurlburd,
Vinnie McTully, George Perry, Alice Perry, Frank Wing, Arthur
Pendent, Frank Grover, Harry Harris, Frank Bruton, Ed. Griffin,
E. Ford, S. R. Peters, Rob. Terry, Frank Newton, Tom Newe, T.
O'Brien, L. S. Read, R. Read, Frank Thomas, and Ella Thomas.
Irene Barnes, of Greenville, R. I., sends this list, called "The
Greenville Band": Jesse Mowry, Nelson Walcott, Henry Keech,
Howard Southwick, Charlie Tobey, Ernest Kendall, Albert 0. Smith,



Jenkie Smith, George Smith, Walter Smith, Allan Driscoll, Daniel
Straight, Chester Walcott, Scott Barnes, Earle Winsor, Bertie Arnold,
Walter Burlingame, Irving Mathewson, Clarence Mathewson, Albert
Shaw, Joel Blanchard, George Cozzens, Robert Monkton, Herbert
Mathewson, Frank Mathewson, Henry Mathewson, Willie Allen,
Charlie Noonan, Willie Warfield, Nicholas Winsor, Nellie Steere,
Maria Murphy, Julia Murphy, Mabel Smith, Emma Steere, Mattie
Walcott, Edith Warfield, Flora Browne, Susie Davis, Mary Flint,
Theresa Masterson, Eliza Masterson, Mary Masterson, Mary Fan-
ning, Lillie Straight, Mattie Browne, Emily Rocke, Delma Rocke,
Ida Steere, Gertrude Steere, Carrie Barnes, Maggie Murphy, Willie
Warfield, Henry Rocke, Nettle Eddy, Mary Steere, and Waldo
Cora E. Jones, of Mamaroneck, N. Y., sends these names: Cora
E. Jones, Minnie A. Jones, Ella C. Racer, Frank M. Spader, Charles
V. Spader, Agnes A. O'Keefe, Emma C. Kane, Kittie E. Newcomb,
Hattie Palmer, Anna Foshay, Ida Foshay, Kate Tutty, Mena
Fleischer, Henrietta Fleischer, Lottie G. Turner, Eva I. Turner,
Lillie Turner, Harry Turner, Ella Connelly, Cecilia Spader, George
Spader, Katie Morrisy, Kate Henne, Rosa Cassidy, Mary Cassidy,
James Cassidy, Terrence Cassidy, Sarah A. Weeks, Jennie E. Dex-
ter, Tillie Brennecke, Charlie Brennecke, Julia Wolfe, Louis Wolfe,
George Smith, Mary Warren, Katie Gambling, Samuel Lawrence,
Ida Lawrence, Eddie Torrence, Willie Torrence, Herbert Torrence
Carrie Fleischer, Mary Brooks, Dannie Brooks, Nellie Ogden, Geo.
Ogden, Annie Carthy, Thomas Bougen, Harry Cornell, Mrs. E.
Cornell, Mrs. S. A. Jones, Mrs. C. Spader, William C. Delanoy,
Eddie P. Delanoy, Mamie Hannan, and Maggie Purcell.
Alice G. Lucas sends this list: Fannie Hale, Mary Hardy, Evelyn
Phelps, George Carter, Mary Lewis, Mattie Baker, Anna Lewis,
Sadie Dunster, Hattie Collins, Nellie Smith, Harrie Barnes, Alice
Lucas, Jennie Dye, Emma Hagen, Johnny Phelps, Ernest Johnson,
Charlie Sturdevent, Freddie Sturdevent, Harrie Harretson, Ina Mere-
ness, Charlie Dunster, Lilian Dunster, Francis Dunster, Georgie
Barber, Hollis Johnson, May Butchers, NinaCollins, Linn Babcock,
Johnnie Montrose, May Curtis, Cora Camp, Eddie Lewis, Mary
Donnelly, Lizzie Lucas, Julia Lucas, Charlotte Hewitt, Elizabeth
Coe, Eliza Coe, Alice Baker, and Julia Baker.
The following list also has been received: Nettie McCluskey, Edith
Hastings, Dora Hastings, Herbert Hastings, Charlie Hastings, Harry
Sanford, Percy Sanford, Olive Sanford, Bert Winwood, Clara Win-
wood, Florence Newell, Fred Newell, T. H. Keck, C. E Whitehead,
Gertrude Clifford, Lucy Meade, Hattie Meade, Jennie Cochran, John
Cochran, Jr., Hope Upfold, Stella Barnes, Carrie Barnes, Laura
Barnes, H. W. Carleton, Marie Bon Nell, Carln Bon Nell, Ruth
Chambers, John Baxter, E. K. Hogg, Meg Jasper, Joe Jasper,
Marion I. Auburne, Meta Grafton, Bertha Grafton, Jennie Lee,
Frank Leonard, Arthur Leonard, Clarence Linn, Arthur St. Claire,
N. E. Griswold, Bernard Stanley, Rose Lind, and Etta Silverthorne.
Theresa Freund, of Cincinnati, O., sends this list: Mary Stephen-
son, Mary Nevin, Ella Riordan, Minna Winkler, Emma Kanslienn,
Lizzie Eichert, Minna Weber, Mary Otte, Celia Clericus, Amelia
Borckenhagen, Minna King, Anna Gilligan, Emma Mueller, Julia
Pagenstechers, Martha Aufdenberge, Sarah Aufdenberge, Lena
Cords, Rosa Bubbe, Henrietta Emigholz, Alvina Keidel, Emily
Moessinger, Augustus Moorhaus, Adam Sammet, William Reid,
Herman Keck, Edward King, Louis Eberle, George Heitbrink, Ed-
ward Boettcher, Frank Theis, Frederic Bertram, Louis Bernet,
Augustus Fuchs, Wm. Machle, Wmi. Behlendorf, Herman Jeutzen,
Wm. Grodzicki, Joseph Nevin, Matthew Woodburn, Chas. Distler,
Max Ahr, Arthur Andres, John Drabing, and Charles Theis.
Laura Drayton, of Dysart, Iowa, sends this list: Laura Drayton,
Mary Drayton, Emma Robison, Ida M. Howard, Clara A. Howard,
Minnie A. Farnsworth, Ella Fike, Laura Fike, Caroline Fike, Rosa
S. Knupp, Susie S. Knupp, Mrs. Hattie Clayton, Eva L. Drayton,
Mrs. F. A. Drayton, Nellie Porter, Hattie Dickenson, Ola Wood,
Mrs. B. V. Shumaker, Belle Magorian, Ella Magorian, Mary E.
McMurry, Jasper Dodson, Noah Knupp, Charley Farnsworth, Willie
J. Robinson, Ira G. Hileman, George C. Howard, Frank W. Fike,
George Fike, Sammie Fike, F. H. Clayton, Orin Wood, F. Farns-
worth, Bryant Dickenson, Frankie Shumaker, W. A. Drayton,
Henry Magorian, Thomas Magorian, Pierce Travis, Harison John-
son, John Dempsy, and R. B. Meyers.
Charles E. Bush, of Lansing, Mich., sends this list: Chas. S. Bar-
ker, Willie Barker, Geo. Sprang, Fred Straight, John j. Bush, Jr.,
Percy Chapman, Julius Lederer, Willie Coleman, Earl Wood, Frank
June, Frank Warner, Heber Knott, Chas. Crane, J. Eddie Roe,

Carrie Bush, Nellie Porter, Frank Dart, Belle Dart, Carrie Booth-
royed, Hattie Haze, Ada Fuller, Jennie Bunn, Carrie Osborn, Nancy
Sanborn, Effie Longstreet, Carrie D. Pratt, Carrie F. Pratt, Carrie
French, Ella Vanauken, Eva Hutchinson, Cara Wood, Hattie Ben-
nett, Ida Case, Belle Sprang, Eliza Hinman, Lucy Cowles, Jennie
Buck, May Dewey, Nellie Bertch, and E. E. West.
Ellen W. Locwell sends this list: Lucy Gillfillan, Hattie Gallup,
Alfaretta Lamoree, Emma Gillfillan, Naomi Gillfillan, Frankie Gal-
lup, Charley Burns, Lizzie Burns, Ella Kimball, Annie Kimball,
Charlie Whipple, Albert Clarrence, Laura Vantassel, Alice Ferguson,
Norman Ferguson, Arthur C. Gillfillan, Katie Rottermann, Sarah
Burns, Nettle Gallup, Ellen Gallup, Lina Stowell, Charlie Gillfillan,
Norman Gillfillan, Augusta Whipple, Frank Rottermann, George
Wilson, Fannie A. Stowell, Rebecca Stowell, Willie Cashen, Maggie
McDonald, Mary McDonald, Katie Ward, Libbie Soboleski, and
Tillie Lukecart.
Inez L. Porter sends the following names: Fanny Dony, Lena Saw-
yer, Ida Green, Mina Green, Augusta Bower, Eddie Bower, Fanny
Porter, Albert Porter, Lina Green, Johnnie Green, Mary Brown,
Agnes Brown, Ethel Ballon, Elsie Ballon, Clara Montgomery, Lena
Montgomery, Mina Friend, Georgie Friend, Edith Friend, Sallie
Friend, Ellen Starr, Kathie Starr, Eugene Starr, Hester Rossitur,
Mary Rossitur, Edith Rossitur, Frances Groom, Agnes Groom, Susie
Porter, Inez Porter, and Edgar Porter.
Ethel Ferguson, of Peoria, sends this list: Edna Gowan, Emma
Gowan, Bernard Gowan, Nina Tall, Laura Tall, Edwin Tall, Simp-
son Tall, Nannie Sprague, Ollie Sprague, Catherine Sprague, George
Smith, Laban Smith, Ellie Smith, Hiram Smith, Egbert Green,
Charity Green, Mattie L. Green, Ruth Sozer, Emily Sozer, Jane
Sozer, Jimmie Sozer, Lillie Sozer, Sallie Fisher, Harrie Fisher,
Eugene Fisher, Hattie Fisher, Oliver Green, Robert Green, Alfred
Green, Marie Green, Barbara Briggs, Anna Briggs, Julia Briggs,
Julius Briggs, Isadora Brown, Isabel Brown, Horace Brown, Marie
Brown, Ethel Ferguson, Blanche Ferguson, and Johnnie Ferguson.
Mary Leigh, of Newton, N. J., sends the following list: Grace
Lain, Annie Priest, Mamie Swayze, Emma Woodruff, Laura Moore,
Katie Moore, Stella Lee, Carrie Bunnell, Stella Smith, Kittie Rogers,
Lillie Rudd, Fan Rundell, Jennie Lain, Alice Bunnell, Maude
Priest, G. W. Keck, E. O. Dershimer, Fred Nicholas, Frank Inger-
soll, E. P. Snover, Victor Lecoq, W. O. Cheeseman, R. P. Crellin,
Bert Burrell, Davie Couse, Sam Northrup, Sam Morford, Fred Tuttle,
Louise Barrett, Lizzie J., Madge H., Annie V., Eloise V., Annie B.,
EvaL., Annie J., Arthur R., and Joe Clark.
Arthur Stuart Walcott, of N. Y. City, sends this list: Isabel Dazey
Boynton, Eleanor V. Boynton, Theodore V. Boynton, Frederick C.
Boynton, Charles E. Boynton, Chester C. Boynton, S. L. Boynton,
L. B. Boynton, L. Bontelle, Bessie B. Norton, Edward Russell Nor-
ton, Jr., Thomas L. Thornell, E. W. Hamilton, E. P. Hamilton,
Marion S. Hamilton, Henry A. Ferguson, B. S. Walcott, L. B. Wal-
cott, Wm. C. Stone, Frederick H. Hamilton, Kate Davis, Ellen H.
Smith, Lucius H. Smith, Wm. B. Smith, Sydney A. Smith, Sarah
M. Pinckney, Annie Lawlor, Ellen Donovan, Mary Downey, J. L.
Wakeford, Frank Wiseman, H Pendleton, Eliza Pendleton, Henry
G. Eliott, and Abby E. Cleaveland.
Charles E. Howe sends this list: Samuel Smith, Albert Wilson,
Thomas Edye, Harry Foote, Harry Fitch, Charles Schofield, David
Hughes, Harry Cooke, William Carlile, Elmer Carlile, Edith Carlile,
Clara Thompson, Fred Smith, Carrie Smith, Daisy Seymour, Alice
Seymour, John Seymour, Arthur Spencer, A. E. Faber, Frank Miller,
Lucy Miller, Harry Fulton, Samuel Haddox, George Friend, Fannie
Moore, James Moore, John Moore, William Salmon, Hattie Stanton,
Harry Lomare, Paul Ney, Frank Taylor, and Belle Eaton.
The following list has been received from Englewood, N. J.: Leula
Wethered, Carrie Wethered, Mollie Wethered, Woodworth Weth-
ered, Sissy Cooke, Nannie Homans, Bessie Homans, Sarah Homans,
Fannie Blake, Charlotte Blake, Minnie Haring, Amelia Haring,
Mattie Waddell, Mamie Waddell, Alice Buckley, Jennie Conner,
Ella Bogert, Alice Sellick, Sallie Parramore, Lizzie Jones, Lucy Hal-
stead, Abbie Nichols, Tiny Wetmore, Mary Chester, Bessie Fisher,
Madgie Wall, Clara Smith, Clara Oakley, Mary Waterbury, Virginia
Banks, Julia Lyman, Charlie Waterbury, Florence Brown, and Clara
Ettie S. Trussell, of Chester, Ohio, sends this list: Ettie S.'Trus-
sell, Lillie F. Trussell, Emma K. Tresize, Ida B. Tresize, Lillie E.
Robinson, Emma M. Robinson, Ella E. Folan, Nettie J. Folan,
Amanda I. Robinson, Carrie Robinson, Mary F. Tresize, Minnie A.
Wallace, Sarah J. Jeroleman, Hattie Myers, Mattie R. Morse, Ella




S. Larkins, Mary Meager, Barbara Meager, Harley P. Robinson,
Osman Rickets, Wallie Trussell, Sherman Smith, Charlie Kimes,
Eddie Kimes, Merril Rickets, Charlie Wallace, Dudley Smith, Win.
Moore, Wallie Morris, Thomas Jeroleman, and Willie Morse.
Hattie Boardman, of Old Fort, N. C., sends this list: Hattie Board-
man, Nellie Boardman, J. H. Boardman, Elizabeth Boardman, F. E.
Kennedy, R. A. McCoy, M. A. Pence, N. E. Cordell, R. H. Moore,
Ellen Whitley, Eddie Whitley, Jimmie Whitley, Herbert Whitley,
Willie Menzie, Sarah Kanupp, Sarah Menzie, Ellen Menzie, Kenna
Menzie, Frank Curtis, Connie Curtis, Willie Sandlin, Joe Phipps,
Henry Shiral, Andy Shiral, John Finch, Nancy Finch, Alsie Cordell,
Annie Cordell, Amanda Godwin, and Bertha Haight.
Harry S. Thiers, of Orangeville Mills, Mich., sends these names:
H. S. Thiers, Clara M. Snook, Clyde M. Clubine, Arthur N. Nevins,
Frank G. Thiers, Willie Crans, Frank Hewitt, Hugh Phetteplace,
Scott Phetteplace, Mattie E. Mattison, Josie L. Searles, Belle Crans,
Charlie Phetteplace, Walter Beattie, Frankie Wilson, Alice H. Nichols,
Adelia M. Saddler, Ella R. Flahaut, Charley England, Carrie Lamb,
Bertha Van Volkenburg, Florence M. Wait, Rena A. Lamb, Curtis
Brigham, Albert Nichols, and Allie Ford.
Shelbyville, Mo., sends us seven lists: (I.) From "Shelbyville
Select School": A. Mutter Priest, Del Grogg, Judie Grogg, Eva
Stuart, Alma Flack, Hattie Glover, Mattie Dunn, Cora Priest, Sarah
Ritter, Harry M. Levan, Willie Grogg, Allie M. Ewing, Mary E.
Priest, Ella F. Engle, Carrie Vance, Mary West, Fanny Marquette,
Annie King, Ellen C. Parsons, Alfred L. Graves, Lucy Manville,
Jennie Douglass, Arthur Levan, Bertie Manville, Hannah Stuart,
Emily K. Minville, Maggie Levan, Tommie Priest, Fritz Manville,
and Lillie Duncan.
(II.) Hattie Glover's list: C. W. Rust, ElizaA. Rust, DoraEngle,
James Engle, Fannie Glover, Eliza Peek, W. H. Glover, Virginia
Glover, Willie Glover, Albert Glover, and Nettle McDonald.
(III.) Eddie A. Burlingame's list: Alice J. Devin, Daisy E. Bur-
lingame, Sarah S. Graves, Mrs. E. P. Burlingame, Alice Graves,
Geo. L. Carley, E. P. Burlingame, Thomas P. White, John Riggs,
Wm. T. McDaniel, Vernon L. Drain, Ethan Riney, O. P. Devin,
and Georgie Burlingame.
(IV.) Maggie Levan's list: Perry Reynolds, Nelly Hughes, Sam
Reynolds, Walter Tolle, Recter Tolle, Ernest Reynolds, Dora Tolle,
and Frank Biglow.
(V.) Mary West's list: Sarah Hiter, James Hiter, Jennie Melson,
Louisa Sullivan, Mary D. Devin, Della Dobbin, Kate Chick, Laura
Collier, Sallie Gunby, Minnie Grey, Mary E. McLeod, and Laura
(VI.) Ella Engle's list: Dora Turner, Lizzie S. Engle, Susie M.
McMurry, Fannie W. McMurry, Susan Sonner, Mollie Priest, Rettie
Priest, Susie Priest, Elizabeth Engle, Dee Shackelford, Ida Shackel-
ford, Marmaduke Hillias, Katie Shackelford, Virgil Shackelford,
Mattie Dines, Sarah Harvey, Robert McMurry, Samnmie McMurry,
Hattie Irwin, Kittle Irwin, Leonard Copenhaver, and Susie Burrus.
(VII.) Fannie Marquette's list: Katie Miller, Albert Turner, Sallie
Turner, Lucy Marquette, Robert Hall, Bell Copenhaver, Fannie
Smith, Sallie Oakes, Charles Copenhaver, Lizzie Miller, Emma Tur-
ner, Florence Smith, and Dora Turner.
Lizzie Hurlburt, of Oberlin, 0., sends this list: Lizzie Huriburt,
Mrs. F. J. Hurlburt, H. E. Cole, F. B. Hurlburt, Charlie E. Hurl-
burt, Harry S. Hurlburt, Carrie M. Smith, Howard Smith, Kittie
Thomas, Angle Thomas, Flora Arnold, Frankie Arnold, Gertie
Morse, E. R. Cole, Hattie Worcester, Carrie E. Hendry, Anna
Fisher, Jessie Russel, Susie Wallace, Minnie Edwards, Etta Moore,
Gussie W. Platt, Emma Hanmer, Mary Hunter, Charlie Reeves, and
Mamie Whitney.
Albert E. Leach, of Mt. Vernon, N. H., sends the following list:
Johnnie Bruce, Georgie F. Averill, Chester B. Averill, Johnnie Up-
ton, Georgie E. Hill, Bertie F. Conant, Gracie Conant, Lulie E.
Trevitt, May V. Trevitt, Lillie iM. Dodge, Martha A. Green, Bridget
Reilly, Mary Bell McCollom, Mary Ryan, Mary Reilly, Tommie
Reilly, George Pike, Willie'Fox, Richmond Smith, Jessie Carson,
Willie Ryan, Willard Conant, Eunice A. Fox, Emma A. Bruce, and
Belle Smith.
Jessie L. McDermut, of Brooklyn, sends this list: Jessie L.
McDermut, Katie Lyons, Sarah Tinslow, Harry Jones, Minna Fos-
ter, Jennie Jones, Effie L. Smith, Mettle Pinkham, Annie M. Shee-
han, Ida Pierce, Lizzie E. Kelly, Edith Holliday, Lillie Fowler,
Emma Van Ness, Minnie Ellis, Grace Tobey, Minnie Miller, May
Henry, Lillie Barnett, Nellie E. Fellows, E. P. Ellis, Nettle Richard-
son, Stella Johnson, and Nellie Richardson.

Lily F. Conkey, of Chicago, sends herfourtl list: Robert Collyer,
Maria P. Brace, Rose S. Wright, Helen L. Fast, Mrs. J. J. Glessner,
Laura T. R. Kett, Georgie Glessner, D. F. Fast, Harry F. Kett,
Frank C. Fast, Amanda Van Syckle, Geo. N. Van Houten, J. W.
Hambleton, Hattie A. Edwards, Mme. Elise Luneau, I. U. Kirtland,
Mamie Ely, Hattie Ely, Grace L. Whitehead, Clara Johnson, and
Nellie Wright.
Hattie E. Woodward, of Big Flats, N. Y., sends this list: Mary L.
Scofield, Jennie L. Lovell, Minnie Lovell, Hattie Johnson, Maggie
Gilldea, Mary Gilldea, Altha G. Wormley, Bertha L. Wormley, Sarah
M. Wormley, Celia Lucy, Lucy Lovell, Ella E. Peebles, Clara L. Sco-
field, Addie McNulty, Louisa McNulty, Katie Tifft, Harris Brad-
shaw, Ella M. H. Van Gorder, Anna Ryan, Hattie E. Woodward.
From Jacob R. Smith, of Philadelphia, this list: Quita G. Barrett,
Freddie J. Barrett, Eliza A. Kane, Kate Flumerfelt, Eliza J. Magee,
Annie Simpson, Kate Green, Nellie Barrett, Laura Price. Susie Price,
Annie Barrett, Irene M. Smith, May Games, Frank G. Holbrook,
Ed. Holbrook, George R. Magee, D. Jones, Lizzie Smith, William
Rowen, and Jacob R. Smith.
George Scrogin, of Nicholasville, Ky., sends the following list:
Willy Clemonds, B. P. Campbell, Richard Curd, John Bronaugh,
James Dorman, Betty Dorman, Frank Daniel, Florence Hutchin-
son, George Jelf, William Lear, James Lear, Wm. Scott, Clayton
Smith, Mattie Smith, Mary Spilman, Walder Smith, Charley Glass,
Mattie Wallace, Herbert Scrogin, and Geo. Scrogin.
Maud Williams and Nellie Hamilton, of Hampton Beach, send
this list: Jessie T. Swinburne, Annie J. Rogers, Amy Estcourt, Josie
L. Moore, Lilian J. T. Allen, Fannie King, Sadie Snow, Minnie Lee,
Kittie M. G. Darling, Belle R. Home, George T. Lewis, Ebenezer
Clark, Edward S. Thompson, Ephraim Lansing, Peter Berry, Geo.
T. S. De Forest, James Benjamin, and Sammy Smith.
"A Mother" in Rome, Ga., sends this list: Grace Panchen, Bessie
Panchen, Ruth Norton, Marion Bones, Clyde Leland, Stockton
Axson, Ernest West, Charlie West, Hattie Cleveland, Johnny Fain,
Charlie Nagle, Eddie Colclough, Willie Terhune, Eddie Frost, Arthur
Frost, Emma Green, Mamie Fain, and Flora Fain.
Mary C. Hutz, of Chambersburg, sends this list: Mary C. Hutz,
Ida B. Hamsher, Willie E. Hamsher, Andrew Stepler, Charlie Budd,
Annie R. Budd, James Hamilton, Sam Hamilton, Maggie Snyder,
John Snyder, Martin Snyder, Kate Snyder, Amie Miller, Fannie
Shatzley, Kate Fahnestack, Hattie Ashway, and Kate Ashway.
This list is from Belle Northrop, of Center Brook, Conn.: Lizzie S.
Tillett, Mary L. Tillett, Annie C. Tillett, Hattie E. Hyde, Fannie
R. Hyde, Abbie G. Wilcox, Emily Wright, Maria Blake, Carrie
Gladding, Esther Champlin, Jessie Chapman, Annie Chapman, Alice
Gladding, Minnie Plumber, Lena Knowles, Delfie Clark, and Belle
Arthur E. Smith, of Union, N. Y., sends this list: Arthur E.
Smith, William F. West, Austin B. Whittemore, Ernest E. Smith,
Clair M. Mersereau, Herbert C. Guy, Clarence A. Hagadorn,
J. Louis Knapp, Irvin S. Barton, Wm, S. Mersereau, Edgar J. Mer-
sereau, Samuel J. Mason, Eddie K. Mersereau, Bertie C. Newell,
S. Mack Smith, C. Oliver, and John D. Smith.
Susie A. Murray, of New York, sends this list: Susie A. Murray,
Maggie Daly, Mary Osbom, John Martin, Frank Wheeler, Edna
Wheeler, Martin Wheeler, Cora Wheeler, Tillie Rothschild, Ida
Rothschild, Nina Henriques, Mary S. Murray, Tillie H. Murray,
K. I. Murray, Sadie Cox, and Peter Cox.
Anna R. Prouty, of Chelsea, Mass., sends this list: Anna R.
Prouty, Jennie Townsend, Hattie Ramsdale, Carrie Chansenboker,
Etta S. Brooke, Hattie Knight, Grace Wilson, May Crooks, Dollie
Curry, Flossie Tenney, Bridget Ryan, Katie Kent, and Willie Adams.
Walter N. P. Darrow, of Yorktown, N. Y., sends this list: John
Gaughran, William Kear, Edward Kear, Thomas Phillips, George
Sweeney, William Churchill, John Churchill, Walter N. P. Darrow,
Wm. Coffey, Geo. Dekay, and Orin Smith.
Lizzie Gover, of Baltimore, sends these names: Lizzie Gover, Rosa
Swain, Gussie Carter, Lizzie Gardner, Herbert Gardner, Tommy
Perkins, Mamie Gover, Lucy Harding, Lizzie Hull, Nannie Walker,
Mary Young, and E. Hews.
W. J. Eldridge, of Philadelphia, sends this list: Clinton J. Trout,
Jr.,'Jennie S. Trout, May Fox, Horace Fox, Blanche E. Dexter,
Henri Leone Dexter, Mary E. Supplee, Charlie Supplee, M Myers,
H. Homer Dalby, Lavinia E. Giles, Henry Giles, and Philip H.
Helen E. Brown, of New York City, sends this list: Emma J.
Bonner, Manie Bonner, Carrie T. Burkam, Julia D. Brown, Issie D.


Brown, Orie D. Brown, Ethel D. Brown, Sarah J. Cobb, Ed. H. D.
Brown, Robert I. Brown, Jr., and Helen E. Brown.
Lizzie Higgins, of Wolfville, sends this list: Ida Jones, Edna Gill-
more, Allie Fitch, May Elder, Lena Freeman, Ernest Freeman, Kate
Emming, Walter Higgins, Mockett Higgins, and Frank Higgins.
M. and S. Harvey, of Chicago, send this list: Margaret Harvey,
Emma McLean, Maud Barnett, Julia Dickson, Lorena Morrell, Nel-
lie Barnett, Milly Harvey, Lulu Fuller, James Harvey, Margaret
Agnes Harvey, John Harvey, and Stuart Harvey.
Lillie V. Ladd, of Plymouth, N. H., sends this list: Renie Ladd,
Maud Whitter, Hattie Chase, Katie Smith, Freddie Smith, Harry
Blake, Laura Connel, Eva Blaisdel, Lillie Chase, Nettie Armstrong,
and Lillie Ladd.
From J. D. Grant, of Newark, Ohio, this list: J. D. Grant, J. A.
Grant, Eddie Grant, Frankie Kibler, Davie Cordray, Frankie Martin,
Jessie Giffen, Hattie Evans, Willard Moul, and Eddie Wolring.
Nellie B. Wright, of Portville, sends this list: Nellie B. Wright,
Mary D. Bartlett, Kate Bartlett, Nettie Ann Scofield, Belle Colwell,
Frank H. Wright, Libbie Weston, Charlie B. Bennie, Kate Magavise,
Frank Bartlett, and Wallie Weston.
Eva Elderkin, of Pueblo, Colorado, sends this list: Curtis Ellis,
Johnnie Ellis, Annie Elderkin, Katie Stout, Lily Stanchfield, Anna
Jenkins, Louis Brown, Addle Brown, Fred Bateman, Warry Weaver,
and Eva Elderkin.
R. T. French, of Brooklyn, sends these names: R. T. French, Jr.,
Charles Hubbell, Horace Chichester, Otto Van Campen, E. Chap-
man, Frank Knapp, Frank French, James Reilly, and Frank Reilly.
John G. Jack sends these names of members of a Bird-defending
family ": John G. Jack, May Jack, Annie Jack, Mary Jack, Willie
Jack, Jamie Jack, Stanton Jack, Norman Jack, and Hope Jack.
Horace Wylie, of Washington, sends this list: Horace Wylie, An-
drew Wylie, Mary Caroline Wylie, Mary Thomas Bryan, Lithea
Winston, Jas Burke, Mary Burke, Frank Duncan, Martha Stewart,
and Ada Chinn.
Herbert G. Nichols, of Brooklyn, sends this list: Herbert G.
Nichols, Frank Terry, Eddie Ray, James Moore, Helen Paul, Mira-
bel Ray, Paul R. Nichols, Eva K. Terry, Minnie C. Nichols, and
Frank L. Nichols.
Madelaine Palmer, of Catskill, N. Y., sends these names: Helen
Gavit, Anna M. Jenkins, Harry Jenkins, Fannie Gavit, Attie Gavit,
Isabelle Fassett, Fred Fassett, Jennie Gilbert, and Anna Gilbert
James B. Cox, of Middletown, N. Y., sends this list: John Collins,
Frank Low, Theodore Cox, Willie Friend, Allie Munce, Jessie Cox,
Anna Gummerson, and Janie Munce.
Rosie Draper, of Washington, D. C., sends this list: Carrie Wills,
David Wills, Priscilla Reed, Maude Draper, Rosie Moore, Edgar
Mahan, John Moore, and Hattie Lusk.
Mary L. Davis of Lexington, Ky., sends these names: Mary L.
Davis, Emma Farnau, John Gunn, Robt. T. Gunn, Mary D. Gunn,
Fannie A. Gunn, Allie R. Hunt, and Katie Hunt.
Katy S. Billings, of New York, sends this list: Katy F. Billings,
Georgie Alley, D. M. Stimson, M. L. Roberts, Abram Wakeman,
Katie W. Price, and Martha Evans.
Washington, D. C., sends this list: Willie Chandlee, Eddie Chand-
lee, May W. R. Chandlee, Kitty A. Loomis, Mamie C. P. Chapman,
Jessie Randall, and Grace Chandlee.
Willie Corson, of Hartford, Conn., sends this list: Daisy Corson,
Mary Brainard, Charlie Brainard, Hatty Day, Kate Fellowes, Anna
Day, and Willie Corson.
Thomas Hunt sends a list as follows: Allen Cammack, Emanuel
Patterson, Cornelia Gilson, Charlie Gaines, Morrison Rea, Margaret
McCooey, and Thomas Hunt.
Charles G. Moon, of Montrose, sends this list: Charles G. Moon,
Willie J. Moon, Alfred Moon, Nellie A. Moon, May Moon, and
Edwin Moon.
"Pearl," of Chicago, sends this list: Belle Hollister, Louise Kel-
logg, Emma Flagle, Jennie Eastman, Annie Eastman, and Gertie
Annie Holden, of Batavia, sends this list: Fred Worthington, Ned
Smith, Hattie Holden, Annie Russell, Georgie Holden, and Annie
Newton, Mass., sends this list: Winnie H. Burr, Frank Po'ter,
Bertie Brackett, Fred W. Emerson, Willie O. Edmonds, and Willie
O. Underwood.
Edward Markell, of Lutherville, sends a list as follows: Edward
Markell, Alice Markell, Jennie H. Markell, Montgomery B. Cork-
ran, Charles E. Corkran, and Frank Terry.

W. A. Farnsworth, of East Saginaw, Mich., sends this list: Fred
Bridgeman, Geo. Glynn, Sheldon Lee, and Sarah Lee.
"Olive," of Hastings, N. Y., sends these names: Bertha Blanch-
ard, Johnnie Blanchard, Marie Blanchard, Kate Conklyn, and Mary
Charlie W. Balestier, of Brattleboro, Vt., sends this list: Mrs. J. N.
Thorn, Mrs. A. T. Balestier, Frank A. Thorn, Miss N. J. Bullock,
B. Fitzgerald, Laura Richards, Minnie Spencer, and Laura Lucas.
Fred C. Morehouse, of Milwaukee, Wis, sends this list: Fred C.
Morehouse, Lizzie P. Morehouse, Howard L. Morehouse, Jennie L.
Morehouse, and Mary L. Morehouse.
Emma K. Armstrong, of Salem, Va., sends this list: Mary Fer-
guson, Mattie Ferguson, Nettle Stafford, Fannie Armstrong, and
Emma K. Armstrong.
Here is a list from Newton, Mass. : Freddie W. Emerson, Winnie
M. Burr, Willie O. Edmands, Bertie Bracket, Frankie Potter, and
Willie Underwood.
Maud King sends this list: Annie Hobson, Lizzie Surrette, Eva
Gay, Hattie Gay, Helen Geer, Mary Keyes, Eddie Surrette, Eddie
Barrett, Mary Mitchell, and Maud King.
Augusta L. De Vinne, of Linden, sends this list: Lizzie S.Winans,
Emma J. Hackett, Mamie L Winans, Amy M. Wood, Emma T.
Ormandy, Rebecca J. Shamp, Lillie Shamp, and Eddie E. De Vinne.
May McDougall sends these names: Charlie S. Raymond, Annie
Carter, F. N. West, Clara Yale, Nellie Eastman, May McDougall.
Olive Wilcoxen, of Richmond, Ind., sends this list: Alice Towle,
Fanny Crawford, Miltie Overman, Elmer Towle, and O. Wilcoxen.
Clara L. Coldren, of Verdi, Nevada, sends this list: Clara L. Col-
dren, Helen F. Coldren, and Ettie L. Coldren.
Brookville, Pa., sends this list: Frances Rodgers, Kate Rodgers,
Alfred Rodgers, Mary Rodgers, and Mrs. Rodgers.
Other lists have been received as follows:
Kittie E. Lewis, Mattie Lewis, Mary Lewis, and Margaret Lewis.
Walter McDonald, Dick Durgin, Eddie Filkins, and Eddie Durgin.
Linda Bergin, Mamie Moore, Daisy Hunt, and Fannie Hunt.
Charlie Willard, John Bates, Evie Styles, and Frank Troup.
Mrs. Annie Dalmas, Carrie Dalmas, Nannie Dalmas, and Philip
E. Grant Keen, Florence Sheeler, Emily Keen, and Lillie M. Keen.
F. J. Kellogg, M. C. Buck, and Villa Kellogg.
Inez Simms, Willie C. Houghton, and Herbie R. Houghton.
Eddie Field, Josie Field, and Lottie Field.
Maggie T. Jakes, Sadie C. Barnard, and Maggie Barnard.
Cynthia Murdock, Lizzie Smith, and Alice Murdock.
Bennie P. Holbrook, Fred L. Sweetser, and Charlie E. Holbrook.
Addie Soliss, Johnnie Soliss, and Daisy Soliss.
Benny S. Cooke, Clement Cooke, and Hannah M. Cooke.
Charlie W. Pittenger, Fred Pittenger, and Annie M. Pittenger.
Ellie S Fannin, Ernst A. Fannin, and 0. Porter Fannin, Jr.
Besides the above, the following names have been received: Wm.
H. Hotchkiss, Walter B. Hotchkiss, Winnie Howells, Johnnie How-
ells, Frank Tatum, Willie Tatum, Belle A. Sites, Leslie H. Ingham;
Tommie Napier, Johnnie Napier, Georgiana P. Hays, Helen A.
Hays, C. Burr Grinsted, W. Stanley Grinsted, Francis B. Sanborn,
V. C. Sanborn, Fay Granberry, Ella Granberry, Lizzie Wallace,
Willie Wallace, J. Lauriston, Willie C. Stone, Annie Robinson,
Willie Robinson, Alfred Wallace, Mary F. Wallace, Minnie Gould,
Orin B. Gould, Thomas Hunt, Edward Livingston Hunt, Rosalie M.
Bemis, Ida A. Bemis, Harry H. M. Johnson, Duncan S. Merwin,
Susie R. Duryee, Clifford H. Holcombe, Mattie Sever, Annie F.
Mills, James N. Ballantine, Nellie Croul, Ransom L. Maynard,
Louisa P. Morgan, H. F. J. Hockenberger, Elmer Willison, Howard
Knewels, Mary S. Turnure, Thomas R. Harris, Mollie Brounson,
Helena W. Chamberlain, Mary S. Beauvais, Nellie C. Beckwith,
Mary C. Eastman, George O. Brott, Louis M. Sawdon, Heywood
Cuthbert, Johnny Baker, Charles H. Chapman, Willie A. Lewis,
Gracie Bigelow, Ollie Godfrey, Jennie Dorr, Joseph Evan Detwiler,
Richard Aldrich, Josie R. Ingalls, Jenhie Willard, E. Lucky Wil-
liams, Neville Castle, Frederic R. King, Edward A. Williams, Lizette
H. Fisher, Amy Waters, Arthur D. Cross, William H. Atkinson,
Robert W. Atkinson, Lida A. Clark, Jimmie Crowell, Ella Crowell,
Helen Wilson, Julian Wilson, Gilbert Wilson, Edith L. Strays,
Mamie Barris, Julia Perry, Bessie F. Hooper, Mary Kuhn, Addle
Kuhn, Edmund S. Smith, Francis H. Smith, Walstein G. Smith,
Calvin Cicero Littlejohn, Margaret H. Wyman, Jeanie Dwight,
Theodore Dwight, Georgie Maxwell, Nellie De Rhodes, and Hattie
C. D. De Rhodes.



8751.] THE RIDDLE-BOX. 783


(With a certain prefix of two letters make a word of each of these designs.)

'" -- -

9- lt \ ,#
__. .-- =, -" ,

_,.{ 1^^,"; ..


It, _-

THE initials form the name of a famous story-teller,
and the finals those whom he loved. I. An Eastern
language. 2. A noted Bible character. 3. A city of
India. 4. The opposite of good. 5. A king of England.
6. A precious metal. 7. A part of the day. 8. A famous
conqueror. L. W. H.
MY first is in May, but not in June;
My second is in air, but not in tune;
My third is in bun, but not in cake;
My fourth is in sleep, and also in wake;
My fifth is in wild, but not in tame;
My whole, you will find, is a little girl's name.
1. WHEN a letter stands opposite any object, it de-
stroys something. 2. A letter by cooking raises a quar-
rel. 3. Military officers appear when a letter appends
its name to a document. 4. Give a letter a certain rank
and it becomes consolidated. 5. Attach a letter to part
of a ship, and it becomes part of the body. 6. When a
letter imitates an animal, it is preparing to travel. 7. A
letter when a sailor, becomes a disease. 8. When a let-
ter is more certain, it will be a miser. 9. Sometimes a
letter forms parts of speech by being mischievous. Io.
When a letter chastises, pleasure carriages abound.
MY left slope was a transformed king, who upheld
the heavens. My right is a stone. My center, exhala-
tions. My first, a vowel. My second, a steam-vessel.
My third, an undeveloped insect. My fourth, a veget-
able coloring matter. My fifth, a kind of stone. J. B.

I. I AM glad that was left in the -- 2. I will
- that bird if it -- near me. 3. I -- his opinion
about the --. 4. Thy Russian leather called -- has
a smell. 5. The fracture was -- the 6.
- are taken from a bird, but a -- is an animal.
7. You have trained that in an manner. 8.
Will they the decree when they its hidden
meaning. RUTH.
I. A WORD meaning to come together; reverse, and
find to abound. 2. To boast; reverse, and find clothing.
3. Winged animals; reverse, and find to stick with a
knife. 4. A timid animal; reverse, and find a marsh
plant. 5. A blot; reverse, and find lids. 6. Kitchen
utensils; reverse, and find a garden vegetable. 7. A
voyage; reverse, and find frisky. c. c.

MY first is sought beneath the sea,
An ornament for you or me;
On some high cliff or towering tree,
My next the hunter bold may see;
My third, the rose to you will give,
Long as its blushing petals live;
My fourth, each little twig may be,
When frost has silvered shrub and tree;
My fifth serves, in the printer's art,
To keep the crowded lines apart. B.

I. RICH I lived, but poor I die. 2. The ape runs up
the tree. 3. Put a hat on your head, or you will take
cold. 4. Such I named it, at any rate. 5. Yes, hide it,
papa, lest I never cease to look at it. M.W. and T. s.



(The central picture indicates the whole word from the letters of which the words represented by the other designs are to be formed.)


EASY METAGRAM.-Sot, cot, Lot, rot, not, hot, dot, jot
BEHEADED RHYMES.-Start, tart, art-Plate, late, ate.
RIDDLE.-Kingfisher. i. Fish. 2. Shiner. 3. Fin. 4. Fresh. 5.
Keg. 6. Knife. 7. Fries. 8. Fire. 9. Fisher. o1. Sinker.
TRANSPOSITIONS.-I. Tailor. 2. Dentist. 3. Doctor. 4. Milliner.
S. Drug-store. 6. Groceries. 7. Post-office. 8. Cash-store. 9. Dry-
ENIGMA.--Alfred Tennyson.
CHARADE, NO. I.-Indian Turnip (Jack-in-the-Pulpit)
DOUBLE ACROSTic.-America, England.
A -ppl- E
M -a- N
E -ndin- G
R-aphae- L
I -ow- A
C -anaa- N
A -n- D
REBUS.- He showed a tent
A stone-shot off; we entered in, and there,
Among piled arms and rough accouterments,
Pitiful sight, wrapt in a soldier's cloak,
Like some sweet sculpture draped from head to foot,
And pushed by rude hands from its pedestal."
CHARADE, No. 2.-Together.

ELLIPSES.-I. Florence. 2. Olive. 3. Anna. 4. Laura. 5. Rose.
6. Abigail. 7. Persis. 8. Sally. 9. Eugenia. ro. Viola. ir. SibyL
12. Grace. r3. Victoria.
CROSS-WORD ENIGMA.-Bird-defenders.
ARCHITECTURAL PUZZLE.-Catherine-wheel window. i. Lancet
window. 2. Arch. 3. Niche. 4. Tower. 5. Arcade.

ANswERS TO PUZZLES IN AUGUST NUMBER were received, previous to August 18, from George W. Broun, Clinton B. Poe, Grace C.,
Florence E. Hyde, Alice M. Hyde, Harry Nyce, Mary C. Goodwin, Arnold Guyot Cameron, Mary J. Tilghman, Charley Gartrell, Louise
M., Rosie Draper, Nettle E. Stevens, Laurens T. Postell, T. F. Sykes, Olin Boggess, Katie G. Bolster, Jennie S. Leh, Clement A. Walker,
Jr., Charlie B. Bennett, A. F. S., Allie H. Smith, Mary E. Chandlee, E. and F., Ida Christiancy, Clelia D. Mosher, Marcia A. Lamphier,
"A Clover Blossom," Nathaniel Haven, C. W. Coleman, Willie L. Young, Mary C. Foster, "5-ri," Helen Reese, Robt. M. Reese, "Little
Bird," J. P. Gilchrist, Carrie Simpson, Little Nell," Charlie W. Balestier, Nellie S. Smith, Edith L. Shays, Nellie B. Wright, Kitty A.
Loomis, Eugene L. Lockwood, Olive," Cynthia Murdock, "Puck and Pansy," W. H. Rowe, "Bowie," Jesse R. Lerch, Wm. H. Healy,
"Nimpo," M. H. Rochester, "Ovid," Leila Delano, Charley W. Rice, Rachel Hutchins, Alice W. Ques, Susie A. Murray, E. S. M. and
R. B. M., Lizzie Merrill, Etta B. Singleton, Charles H. Delanoy, Perlee and Isabel Rieman, Frank H. Belknap, Russell Fearon, Ernest
Wilmarth, Hattie D. C. De Rhodes, and Julia D. Hunter.




Head-quarters, Army of Bird-Defenders, in the Field.
To the Gallant Volunteers of the Grand Army:
The General-in-Chief congratulates the Grand Army. But little over one year ago the first proclamation was issued, calling for
volunteers in defense of our feathered friends. Nobly have you responded to the call. The avowed enemies of bird persecution, torture,
and murder have enrolled themselves under the Defenders' banner, from all parts of our own country, and from distant climes. We
may well be proud of this work, but more is to be done.
Comrades and fellow-soldiers, the Spring campaign is opened. In every thicket the enemy is skulking, in every field he is march-
ing upon our friends. Be alert, be active, to dissuade him from his designs. Fire at him with pleadings, with argument, with philosophy.
Treasure up scraps of information on the usefulness, the wisdom, and the ingenuity of the little birds, and shoot them at him as if they
were shot and shell and grape. Stand steadfast in the cause of justice, and right, and mercy, and save the birds by all lawful and
proper effort. Our allies are aiding us. During the past Winter the Legislatures of several of the States have discussed the question
of bird protection, and some of these have already passed laws in their behalf.
Let every soldier in the Grand Army aid in filling the ranks with volunteers. Form new squads and companies and regiments, and
report to ST. NICHOLAS at once. The pheasant is drumming, and the larks and quails are filing; whole regimental bands are calling
for recruits. Rally! rally! and victory must perch on our banner. By order of
C. C. HASKINS, Commander-in-Chief


May Flint, Alvin P. Johnson, Charley Graham, Philip 3. M.,
Bessie F-1, and Toodles, or real name, H. M. T."
Hugh F. Berry, Edward Barbour, M. S. Newton, W. Van Buren,
Willie Sams, Nat Sanders, George Anthony, Robert Prather, W. P.
Buren, Howard A. Kenner, Bennie Prather, Frankie Prather, Frank
E. Johnson, 0. D. Johnson, Noah U. S. Johnson, Johnnie Moody,
Allie A. Powe, Bell Berry, Ella Sams, Fannie Richmond, Cener San-
ders, Bell Parks, Selina Copeland, Minda Bohannon, Allie Moody,
Bettie Polk, Clint Kenner.
John W. Smith, Fred L. B., Louis Mitchell, Edward Halloway,
Lily Graves, "Rosel," "Ned," Jessie A. Hall, Jennie Brown, Susie
Brown, Jennie Fleischmann, Cora Wallace, Fred L. Bancroft.
Mary Morris, Katie Bachert, Lizzie Hill, J. M. Sholty, Cora Wal-
cutt, Eva Ingram, Clara Palmer, Susie Kugler, Gracie Ballard, Elta
Essig, C. W. Chapman, Ella S. Flohr, Lizzie C. Foreman, Annie M.
Foreman, Mellie K. Frederick, Flora B. Becher, Edwin Smith, Orpha
Stanley, Lettie C. Ingram, Katie Hayhurst, Maggie J. Becher,
Nettie Skelton, Ernest Bachert, Willie Bachert, Harry Hill, Fannie
Bachert, W. G. Owen, Anna Robinson, Mary P. Morris, Sallie
Theodore Kirkland, Fred Stevens, Walter Walker, Harry Miller,
Gussie Gautert, Harry Wright, Freddie Howe, Neddie Hadley,
Willie Ahers, Jonnie Drown, Eddie Atherton, Louis Homer, Harry
Knight, Willie Devine, Willie Nash, Fred Hastings, Martie Austin,
Hollie Reed, Jimmie Moran, Eddie Curtis, Merab Kellogg, Emma
Fay, Nellie Goodrich, Mary Brown, Ann E. Brown, A. S. Higgin-
son, L. S. Higginson, S. M. Bradley, J. P. Miles, Katharine Miles,
E. B. Howland, S. C. Wells, M. E. Wells, May S. Cutts, Mamie
Howard, Lizzie F. Schuster, Lillie Brooks, Alice Brooks, Annie
Wyman, Emma Houghton, Emily Bradley, W. C. Bradley, J. D.
Bradley, R. C. Bradley, C. F. Schuster, Lina Holbrook, Ida Curtis,
Addle Foster, Emma Dickinson, Lillie Ketting, Frederika Homer,
Esther Thomas, Lucy Atherton, Minnie Baker, Mamie Howe, Emma
Homer, Belle Smith, Hattie Alden, Fannie Guild, Katie Austin,
Belle Guild, Louise Dennison, Annie Buggel, Nettie J. Knight
Meta Gage, Edward Seaman, Hattie E. Alvord, Edith K. Harris,
Mary A. Harris, Frank A. Taber, John Fremont, Laura A. Free-
man, Roy Wright, Henry L. Morris, A. L. Williams, Edith Carpen-

VOL. II. -33 [A].

ter, Fanny Burton, Annie C. Pearson, Jeanie S. Pearson, Nellie E
Lucas, Minna Kisehagen, H. Sedgwick Stallknecht, Wally Stall-
knecht, Josie Stallknecht, Eddie H. Eckel.
Mr. Haskins' list of boys' and girls' names, pupils of male and
female high schools of New Albany, Ind. : Frank H. Gohman, A. L.
Douglas, Charles G. Wilson, G. W. Haskins, Frank M. Worrall,
Daniel S. Trinler, Daniel R. E. Doherty, Edward W. Faucett,
Alex. Lowestellese Wells, Jr., Charles Lloyd, John T. Robinson,
Hartie H. Depen, John Steele Davis, Jr., C. Filch, R. Byrn, Harry
Linnon, Frank Miller, C. H. Gard, Charles N. Pitt, J. M. Stotsen-
burg, J. F. McCulloch, W. P. Lewis, Wm. P. Tuley, John J. Tighe,
John E. Payne, Charles Greene, W. Leach, Eugene Swift, James
Lewis, Charlie A. Haskins, Hettie R. Smith, Alice White, Amanda
Newbanks, Nannie A. Windell, Belle Lane, Lydia M. Littell, Mattie
Matheny, Lillie Austin, Lilian F. Moore, Ella Harbeson, Sallie I.
McCulloch, Addie Bader, Ada Hester, Clara S. Williams, E. Ufastie
Kepley, Minnie Seabrook, Annie Dalby, Clara M. Pitt, Anna E.
Petery, Mary Genung, Ella M. Garriotte, Katie C. Garriotte, Cassie
S. Weir, Jennie S. Cook, Florence A. Pitt, Jennie Ewing, Anna B.
Martin, Ella L. Sigmon, Lizzie B. Hester, Florence I. Myers, Fan-
nie Strau, Lelah Decker, Becca Bym, Lydia Townsend, H. H.
Franck, Jennie Day, Rosaltha Kent, Katie Hurrle, Mary Schofield,
EmmaDowerman, Nannie Andrews, Nannie Royer, Maggie Bald-
win, Grace M. Lee, Laura E. Johnston, Mary Kelso, Gertie E.
Jackson, Gertie Forse, Mamie Wilson, Ella M. Hill, Augusta Tising,
Josie Jasper, Ida M. Sackett, Zora White, Annie Nichols, Lina
Shelton, Anna Doen, Mary Ewing, Hattie L. Stout, Lizzie Pearson,
Hattie Deeble, Sallie King, Eva Matheny, Ella Applegate, Estelle
Neat, Alice Tuley, Mary Robellaz, Louisa Goetz, Caddie Conner,
Kittle Davis, P. A. Rager, Lillie M. Tuley, Sarah A. Sinex, Laura
Johnson, Maggie M. Hall, Emma J. Noyes, Anna Draper, Lottie
Cogswell, and A. M. Thurman.
Ella Christopher, A. A. Fays, Josie Philips, Ida Holmes, and
Emma Bours.
Minnie Thomas, Wilson Farrand, Marion W., Fred A. Norton,
Arthur D. Percy, Allan Preston, Robert Nichols, Harry Duncan,
Herbert Irwin, Charlie Irwin, Harry Lewis, Fred W. Ellis, Bertie S.
Ellis, James Moore, Fred Moore, Charlie Moore, Edgar D. Austin,


Edwin Howard, Arthur Willard, Charlie S. Willard, Ernest Leslie,
Fred Leslie, Robert Steams, Jamie F. Carleton, Alfred P. Curtis,
Harry W. Curtis, Percy S. Clifford, Eddie F. Graham, Charlie War-
ren, Emma G. Lyon, Percy Lyon, Harold A. Lyon, Bertie E. Lyon,
Lilian Lyon, Marian Lyon, Minnie Merwin, Ethel S. Percy, Alma
Lewis, Edith F. Willard, Grace Ellis, Allie Morse, Jessie S. Austin,
Stella C. Nichols, Gertie E. Nichols, Florence Irwin, Hattie W.
Osborne, Mabel W. Irwin, Bessie R. Allen, Carrie F. Dana, Allie K.
Bertram, Cora Kendall, Nettle S. Elliott, Bertie L., Louise S., R. B.
Corey, B. Waterman, C. E. Sweet, Maggie Lippincott, Frank Ratch,
Rollie Bates, Horace S. Kephart, Willie Boucher Jones, Roderick E.
Jeralds, Ora L. Dowty, Walter C. Pierce, Leonard M. Daggett, and
Ernest G. Dumas.
Lulie M. French, Fordie M. French, Ambrose Matson, James T.
Wood, Homer Matson, Tillie B. French, Haidee Ottman, Mary A.
Moore, Ellen Clark, Elizabeth Scott, Lilly Wilson, Rosa Scott, Nancy
E. Moore, Nettle Bedinger, Jennie Wood, Maggie E. Wood, Harriet
Bedinger, Lizzie Wilson, and Delila Moore.
Mattie Brinner, Adonia Quin, Sue Cooper, Nellie Franklin, Mary
Cardier, Alice Clarke, Mariam Waller, Jessie Earhart, Nora Nesbit,
Dora Earhart, Ada Hahn, Minnie Benjamin, Eliza Procter, Ettie
Earhart, Eliza Smith, Sadie McCune, Fannie Crook, Bertha Hahn,
Mary Quin, May Landon, Anna Welsh, Katie Welsh, Minnie Nes-
bit, Jessie Floyd, Minnie Schletzbaum, Ida Hahn, Mary Grace,
Katy Mulenax, Dora Wright, Eby Brenner, Julia Dale, Jennie Price,
Ellie Earhart, Lucy Cooper, Willie Franklin, George Quin, Teddie
Hadnall, Eddie Franklin, Isaiah Monhollon, George Waller, Hugh
McCrum, Willie Ege, Truman Floyd, Geo. Crook, and John A. Sea.
James S. Newton, Sarah W. Putnam, Robin Flanders and Mella
Bueb, S. C. Merrill, Julian A. Hallock, Kittie Child, Bessie Child,
Alice Child, Richard Aldrich, Edward B. Cushing, L. A. Freeman,
Prissie Fergus, Samuel Fergus, Ida Swindler, Frankie Freeman,
Woodie Freeman, George M. Reese, Stephen Penrose, Henry A.
Hippler, Ethel Fox, Mary and Henry Babetta, Helen Wordsworth,
Milly Fairfax, Willie W. Nisbet, Anna Frazier, May and Jacob
Bockee, Anna Buckland, Annie Kettler, Alice Buckland, Mary Buck-
land, Thomas A. Buckland, Johnnie Buckland, Sadie Buckland, Lee
McNichols, Willie Williams, Charlie Williams, Josie Williams, M. P.
Norris, Eddy C. Wilstach, Lulu Paine, Sarah E. Brown, Nellie
Paine, Maggie Graham, Eddie Wilson, David Plumb, W. H. Strat-
ford, C. H. Salter, Frank D. Rapelyea, Bruno Tuma, John L. Salter,
Willie Graham, Fred A. Pratt and his little brother, Louise F. Olm-
stead, Kitty B. Whipple, Agnes P. Roberts, M. L. Cross, Minnie
Fisher, Carrie Fisher, Alice and Fanny Eddy, S. P. Hutchinson,
Bertie L. Colby, Harry M. Reynand, Nellie S. Colby, and W. V.
A. Catron.
Richard L. Hovey, Helen T. Brown, Joseph S. Steele, Charles
Corey, Ella Moore, Anna J. Ewing, Howard B. Smith, Gertie Brad-
ley, Frank H. Burt, Emma C. Preston, Carrie A. Johnson, John
Sturtevant, Oscar Hale, George C. Parker, Lidie V. R. Parker,
John W. Parker, Jimmy Rogers, Lulu and Willie Habirshaw,
Alexander Wiley, Harry Brandt, Ira Coover, Luke Herring, Bertha
E. Saltmarsh, Willie H. Frost, Edwin C. Frost, Charles C. McLaugh-
lin, Frank Collins, Carlos Collins, Eddie Lindeman Davenport,
Libbie Yocum, T. Miller, Laura Yocum, Nannie Yocum, J. H.
Yocum, W. C. Miller, Emily Miller, Kleyda Richardson, and Elliott
Verne Richardson.
Jessie A. Hall, Allie F. Chapin, A. M. Billings, Clara Coates,
Fannie Deane, Lizzie Z. Whitney, Nina Z. Hall, Mary H. Pratt,
Mira Thornton, Albert T. Hall, Frank J. Pratt, George Thompson,
Miss Mattie E. Lucy, and Mrs. E. A. Hall.
Mary C. Ayers, Edith E. Ayers, Morton H. Ayers, Theodore May,
Oscar May, Frank T. Bowman, Bessie J. Bowman, Florence A.
Bowman, and George H. Bowman.
Edw. W. Robinson, Joseph Greenthall, Joseph Strausser, Sol.
Kayser, John Smith, Henry Lafor, John H. Hanan, Louis Vogler,
Lewis Robertson, Sam Manheimer, David Manheimer, Julius Lam-
kay, Adam Fox, Andy Acker, Frederick Acker, Emanuel Bach,
Henry A. Van Praag, Edward Dennerlein, Emil Nehl, and Moses
Katie Bachert, Mary Morris, Sarah Barnett, Julia Floyd, Maggie
Wolfe, Annie Hundertmark, Minnie Hundertmark, Emma Schyslar,
Sophie Schyslar, Wm. Geltz, Mrs. B. Bachert, Jno. M. Bachert,
Lizzie Kline, Fannie Robinson, Laura Roberts, Carrie Brightman,
Louise Elmer, and Flora Lloyd.
Ambrose Morris, Willis Earnshaw, Charley Remillet, Willie

Shower, Willie Rogers, M. A. Earnshaw, George Best, August Hot
land, Charley E. Wilson, E. H. Morris, Cary Roberts, Norviel Earn.
shaw, Willie Yant, James Wherry, Frankie Singer, Patrick Welsh,
and Levite Best.
William H. Terry, George E. Carpenter, Lines Groo, Jock Swezy,
James Newkirk, Willie L. Cox, David C. Winfield, Harry C. Love,
land, 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 Bowin, William
Mullock, Squire Woodward, Ashabel Prenk, Willie Henry, Willie
Steveson, George Bull, Fannie P. Cowin, Laura Adams, Jennie
Gaudener, Jennie Duryea, Ella Quick, Fannie Graves, Fannie Beyea,
Allie Wickham, Mary Rogers, Eva Brett, Pruie March, Flora Palmer,
Katie Bell, Sadie Banker, Etta Sweet, Emma Miller, Millie Miller,
Jennie Lord, Mimi Wickham, Jessie Harney, Birdie Harney, and
James B. Cox.
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, Louie E. Austin, Allie G. Raymond,
C. Finley Hersman, Emma Wetmore, William H. Wetmore, Hallie
H. Boardman, Mary Louise Webster, Mary Ella Ritter, C. V. Bun,
ner, Lizzie Laning, Klyda Richardson, Geo. R. Marrell, and Fanny
and Rosa Marrell.
Emily M. Bullard, Lizzie M. Knapp, Mary C. Knapp, Frances
E. Weildon, Ella Holcomb, Hattie Chapman, Lizzie C. Young, Jen.
nie A. Sunderland, Amie W. Lester, Edith A. Lutz, Belle L. Lath.
rop, Carrie E. Brainard, Ida L. Thompson, Minnie B. Welch, Mabel
Bundy, Lottie E. Smith, Louisa E. Heine, M. Annie Bostwick,
Adelle T. Peck, Jennie C. Gale, Nellie Costello, Hattie Bill, Jennie
L. Penfield, Clara Pratt, Sarah Goldsmith, Annie Riley, Mary Welles,
Lizzie C. Wright, Jennie T. Pelton, Huldah H. Knolk, Julia E.
Heublein, Prudey V. Tounsend, Cora I. Nott, Hattie A. McKay,
Mary J. Martin, Hattie R. Wade, Litta R. Heussler, Carrie Lilian
Sykes, Lizzie O. Hatch, Florence Peltier, Carrie A. Humphrey, and
Lizzie E. Ranney.
William M. Smith, Frank I. Prentice, Leviat S. Knolk, Fred H.
Williams, Moses J. White, Royal T. G. Brown, A. E. Richardson,
Alfred Clay, Willis G. Braley, Harry W. Cushman, Charles H. Wil,
lard, Wilbur Hale, W. Goodrich, W. Poll, William Dunbar, Frank
Forbes, Louis H. Hutchinson, Lewis Pease, George Senk, Edward
Clay, Frederick E. Cook, Nathaniel K. Morgan, Albert N. Daniels,
George C. Bill, Robert R. Henderson, Gussie H. Bullard, and Frankie
F. Clapp.
Charles W. Winstandley, Chester Winstandley, and Hallie C.
Winnie Pierson, Emma Alverson, Minnie Durkee, Ellis Pierson,
Jeffie Catlin, Fred Chase, Therese Dulon, Estella Satterthwaite,
Helen Ludlow, Lena Robinson, Anna Allen, Minnie Brando, Minnie
Sutton, Eddie Yawger, Jimmie Hammond, Tommy Hammond,
Mary Utt, Nellie Tompkins, Anna Mosher, Frankie Everett, Nellie
Larmon, Belle Connor, Emma Howland, Nellie Shank, Dannie Cat-
lin, Willie Yawger, E. Strawn, Willard Hoff, and Satie Satterthwaite.
Mattie B. Locke, Eddie J. Thuring, Arthur R. Colby, C. P. M.
Colby, Freddie M. Sawyer, Jerry O'Brien, John McDonald, Willie
Dunn, A. E. Porter, Samuel Blake, Tracey Getchel, Charles Morrill,
Robt. S. Fielden, H. W. Batchelder, Allen Risteene, G. C.-Dearborn,
Henry True, Mikel Quinn, Frank Dennett, Frank Lee, Eddie Clin,
Eddie Duckworth, Willie Chase, H. L. Bailey, Olive B. Sanborn,
Mary Brown, Flory E. Rose, Annie L. Bailey, Annie S. Bahan,
Carrie Dennett, Mary Hessian, May W. Felch, Ida F. Tibbetts,
Addie Rand, Millie A. Williams, Anna R. Carswell, Katie Hassett,
Mary A. Learner, Nellie E. Jaques, Mary Cummings, Ellie Menen,
Bridget Lanner, Barbara H. Pow, Laura Aldrich, Effie Lane, Lena
Livingston, Nettie Morrill, Mary McNalty, Hannah Burk, Charlea
Nichols, Charles H. Miler, John Cullenane, Oliver W. Titcomb,
George Lee, Willie Brooks, Mary L. Heritage, Carrie C. Chase,
Lizzie E. Chase, Nellie H. Rowed, Winnie Cadieu, Etta R. Wood.
man, Jennie F. Jaques, Nellie Maloney, Hannah Maloney, Mary
Hoggen, Susie M. Batchelder, Susie W. Brown, Susie E. Bagley,
Mamie L. Tucker, Cora L. Godsoe, Mary McDonnall, Susie A. Os.
good, Mary J. O'Leary, Susie H. Brown, Clara T. Foss, Carrie J.
Greeves, Ann O. Conner, Maggie E. Conner, Delia Kline, and
Willie Locke.
Josie E. Purdy, R. A. Van Voorhis, Katie A. Demarest, Fannie
M. Losee, Sarah Hill, Jeannette Seymour, Ella J. Rollins, Ida Van,


houten, Rebecca Tracy, Ettie C. Burge, Sarah E. Mott, Mary Con-
ner, Gussie Bartholomew, Maggie Conner, Tillie Delacroix, Josie
Watson, Lessie Curman, Addie Young, Julia Henderson, Annie E.
Hanks, Cornelia V. Deal, M. H. Ganse, Bessie P. Ganse, Memie P.
C. Stover, Jennie Stoppuni, Josie R. Halsey, Electa H. Spader,
Florence H. Farrell, Josie Finkenaur, Geo. H. Bell, C. R. Burke,
Walter Wright, H. W. Dunshee, Walter B. Styles, Frank Yeury,
Jas. W. Campbell, Nicholas Schultz, Alexander Clark, Alexander
Martin, Edwin J. Hanks, William D. Koster, James L. Hewlett,
Joseph B. Carss, Charles H. Styles, Andrew De Wilde, William
Purdy, John Purdy. T. H. Cleverley, F. W. Ganse, Fred H. Ganse,
and Annie De Waele Hanks.
Alice E. Bates, Anna E. Ayres, K. L. Meech, M. A. Conkey,
Nellie French, Mary Felton, Lilla Toscott, J F. Brace, Grace
Douglas, Mary L. Banks, Hattie A. Montgomery, S. B. Hambleton,
Annie Scantlebury, Mary V. Edwards, and Lily F. Conkey.
Minnie Bunner, Maude Estes, Mattie Cole, Gussie Cole, Etta Cole,
Lulu Carmen, Lulu Perry, Frank Carmen, and Edwin S. Belknap.
Eddie Aston, Laura E. Tomkins, Dwight Tomkins, George P.
Way, Jr., Hannah J. Powell, Burritt J. May, Valeria F. Penrose,
C. Finley Hersman, Clifton B. Dare, Augusta L. De Vinne, May L.
Corsa, Grace Lurena, Jennie French, Lizzie French, F. O. Newton,
Lizzie Laning, Fannie H. Smith, Charles E. Bush, Lillie D. Howe,
Edith Howe, Winnie D. Wheeler, Hattie V. Wheeler, Emma G.
Wheeler, Carrie A. Dana, Laura A. Wilson, Lillie J. Studbaker,
Albert Rundell, Charlie Heller, Carrie Heller, and Lulu Wood-
Lucy Williams, Jessie Cook, Bessie Gilbert, Maggie Gilbert, Sadie
Gilbert, Josie Gilbert, Clara Gilbert, Fannie Prouty, Lizzie Welch,
Pollie Hackett, Ida Spence, Mary Bardwell, Lucinda Bardwell, Judea
Bardwell, Lillie Meramvill, Lucy Williams, and Mary Welch.
May Ogden, John F. Ogden, Fannie M. Griswold, Florence
Peltier, Anna M. Glover, Maggie Detrick, Jimmie H. Detrick,
Hattie Carman, Charlie Carman, Johnnie Carman, Jennie Carman,
Lizzie Park, Alice I. Paine, Katie R. Paine, Eny E. Paine, Mary C.
Paine, Fannie D. Murden, Maude Cheney, Alice Angell, Eva Dodds,
Bennie Stockdale, Willie C. N. Bond, Arthur H. Clarke, Arthur L.
Gilman, William F. Darrah, Rufus E. Darrah, Robert Staigg, Chas.
T. Griffith, B. C. Weaver, Bessie Severance, Mary Severance, John
Severance, Allen Severance, Annie Severance, Julia Severance,
Bertha Hunt, Grace Murray, Fannie Laurie, John F. Hays, Herbert
Shaw Forman, Lulu F. Potter, Tony Foot, and Thomas P. Sanborn.
William J. Eldridge, John J. Eldridge, Lizzie H. Eldridge, Alice
G. Troth, and Lilian S. Troth.
Bertha J. Rickoff, Fanny Beckwith, Alice Burrows, Annie Bur-
rows, Maud Hanna, Anna Shipherd, Nellie Runcy, Lillian Har-
wood, Florence Hyde, Mabel Allen, Tilly Huntington, Maggie
Huntington, Annie Smith, Albina Sanders, Willie Rickoff, andBell
J. Watterson.
Libbie M. Butler, Minnie Clements, Ella Van Patten, Gertie Lay-
ner, and Jennie Butler.
Clinton B. Poe, Sam K. Poe, Robert A. Gregory, Arthur Kimerly,
Carrie Johnson, Waldo Morgan, and Jennie Lawrence.
Charlie J. Bigelow, Frank Dingman, Willie Randall, Charlie
Randall, Willie Ebberlie, Nellie Burton, Sarah Pompenella, and
Hattie Sullivan.
Florence B. Lockwood, Katie Radford, Conchita Cisneros, Cle-
mencia Mestre, E. J. Tiemann, M. C. Murray, and Benoni Lock-
Lily F. Conkey, Cornelia W. Smith, Minnie Adams, Nellie Wilkin-
son, Helen Kellogg, Willie Dane, Minnie Ashley, Flora Page, Selina
Steinitz, N. J. Spur, and Frank L. Douglass.
John C. Howard, Sally F. Bailey, Fred N. Luther, Mamie Beach
and Lillie McGregor, Will E. Brayton, F. Green, George S. Brown,
S. Weaver, Minnie L. Sherman, Rob R. Sherman, Katie T. Hughes,
Ollie Hughes, Harry Winn, Lizzie M. Bennett, Henry K. Gilman,
Ruth and Mabel Davison, George F. Pease, Frankie L. Jones,
Mabel W. Baldwin, Henry O. Riddell, Harry N. Covell, A. R.
Diamond, Willie G. Foote, and Lincoln Righter.

Hollie Paxon, Anna Dougherty, Katie Stanley, Lizzie Waters,
Mattie Cheming, Anna Seibert, Mary Henderson, Lizzie Thomas,
Etta Winer, Flora Robinson, Nellie Stanley, Lizzie Stanley, Lizzie
Reid, Lizzie Elston, Gussie Richardson, C. Rose, George Steward,
Eddie Lesein, Anna Dinkhor, Martha Walker, Hannah Lusting,
Anna Ohero, M. Levinberger, Maria Gunn, Nellie Mortz, Jesse
Rowe, Gussie Minor, Martha Brothers, Lottie Deeroodt, Lulu Allen,

Annie Smith, Hettie Walker, Tennie Degroodt, Willie Paxson,
Freddie Paxson, Emma McGinnes, Kate Rice, Nonia Glenn, D. Cor-
storphen, Bella Herring, Eila Stephenson, Mollie Parker, Fannie
Kerney, S. Reynolds, C. Riley, T. Osborne, Mollie Murphy, L.
Worack, Flora Worack, and Harry Livenberger.
Katie H. Allan, Hannah A. Seabury, Carrie W. Crandall, Fannie
G. Gladding, Lizzie H. Vernon, Mary M. Swinburne, Eloise P.
Hazard, Anna C. Kelley, Annie M. Wilcox, Lillie C. Kenyon,
Mattie B. Simmons, Maria J. Barker, Nellie L. Bryer, Bessie S.
Allan, Mamie L. Allan, Mattie A. Stevens, Mamie M. Engs, Minnie
C. Tracy, Susie L. Griffith, and Ella L. Peckham.
Allie G. Raymond, Dana Ellery, Allie Fay, Hattie L. Kendall,
Connie S. Weston, Raymond G., Hal S. Howard, Charlie H. How-
ard, Emma F. Howard, Minnie G. Howard, Percy D. Stuart, Harold
F. Garson, Jamie Ross, Katie Ellis, Arthur Elliot, Charlie Elliot,
Lolo D. Warren, Carrie Preston, Cora S. Ashton, Mabel G. Ashton,
Fred Bell, Gertie H. Norton, Irwin Percy, Arthur Percy, Nellie R.
Harris, Allan H. Sherwin, Bertie G. Sherwin, Edie L. Sherwin,
Robbie G. Fielding, Lily Stanton, Daisy Stanton, Bessie H. Carleton,
Ernest C. Duncan, Fred S. Duncan, Harry L. Duncan, Florence G.
Kingsley, Edith F. Willis, Clifford A. Parker, Leslie Bartlett, Alfred
Stears, Sylvie D. Bertram, Helen G. Lewis, Howard E. Allison,
Edgar Loring, Winthrop J. Nicholson, Alice W. Denham, and Eth-
elwyn Rossiter.
Daisy Lee, Eunice Cecil, Blanche Clifford, Ida Lee, Carrie Bell,
Lily Bell, Robbie Clifford, Launcelot Lee, Georgie Clark, and Lilla
J. N. Moore, Eddie Soper, James Dodd, George Scroder, John
Murphy, Earnest Rouse, Clarence Esterbrook, C. Leland, Carrie
Helm, Belle Bird, Mollie Smith, Nettle Castle, Belle Henry, Ella
Young, and Nettle Berglar.
Emma, Eugene, Maggie, and Dannie Va,. Vleck, C. M. Lewis,
Irving Fish, A. A. Caemmerer, O. E. Reunir, Fannie M. MacDonald,
Theodore M. Purdy, C. C. Anthony, Lenie J. Olmsted, Katie M.
Olmsted, Mamie Doud, Charlie Lupton, Kate P. Lupton, Bettie Ped-
dicord, Mina K. Goddard, Alonzo E. Locke, Newton Wyckoff, and
Gerty Wyckoff.
Edwin S. Belknap, Emma Lumbard, Frank Harrison, Harry
French, Joe E. Toy, William A. Smith, Thomas O. Farjon, Henry
A. Millar, James K. Hyland, Frank E. Waters, Arthur F. Waters,
Henry Perry, Alexander Cohen, Percy Cohen, Joseph R. Smith,
Ben O. Smith, Frank E. Smith, Oscar J. Lund, Harry Lund, James
R. Haste, Charles Morhardt, Robert McElroy, Walter Cole, Ralph
O. Thomas, Obe Thomas, George F. O'Learey, Isaac B. Dutard,
George Singer, Albert F. Sawyer, Eddie Henry, Edmund D. Cooke,
George H. Bly, John S. Kibbie, Frank B. Allery, John T. Allery,
Edmund C. Battledon, Frank Battledon, John H. McStrue, Colin
McGregory, Walter Wilding, Jennie Cooke, Carrie F. Harrison,
Ettie Lombard, Fannie Hare, Jennie B. Widley, Mary M. Griffin,
Tillie S. Vaughan, Susan R. Hopley, Bella S. Chaplain, Fannie T.
Keene, Lottie D. Rummell, Florence G. Grimshaw, Gertie B. Plum,
Delia Sherman, Minnie K. Peese, Katie F. Cutter, Mattie R.
Hughes, Mary Fenton, Lulu De Chrells, Katie L. Cummings, Louisa
T. Lee, Mary Jackson, Annie R. Lloyd, Carrie S. Smith, A. Susan
Smith, Alice Andrews, Maria Ford, Jennie H. Haskins, Sarah L.
Sylvester, Minnie F. Bly, Etta M. Peck, Jennie D. Peck, Bessie A.
Walton, Gussie D. Walton, Carrie E Grant, Effie T. Wahl, Mary J.
Toy, Millie Dirrell, and Nellie Lovejoy.
Hattie E. Buell, Mary B. Beverly, Kate D. Hanson, Aggie
Clement, Kittle Schuyler, Ida I. Van Denburgh, Mary M. Dailey,
Lavinia D. Scrafford, Hattie Morgan, Mary L. Apps, Celia W. Ten-
broeck, Mollie Hallenbeck, Julia Ruoff, Theresa E. Quant, Ritie S.
Brooks, Libbie D. Sibley, Lilian G. King, Emma Clute, Augusta
Oothout, Jennie Hoyt, Emma Planck, Lillie I. Jenning, Anna Miller,
Gertic A. Fuller, Kittie Van Nostrand, Bessie Barker, Clara Hannah,
Susie Sprague, Mamie Yates, Anna Wemple, Susie C. Vedder, Katie
Fuller, Anna M. Lee, Alice D. Stevens, Nettle Knapp, Lizzie King,
Addle Richardson, A. Y. Schermerhor, John L. Wilkie, Mynard
Veeder, Alvin Myers, James Vedder, and Lewis Peissner.
Julia C. Roeder, Mary M. De Veny, Addie L. Cooke, Addie L.
Patterson, Rosa Zucker, Fannie E. O'Marah, Dora O'Marah,
Johnnie O'Marah, Nellie O'Marah, Lettie Lawrence, Bertha P.
Smith, Lizzie E. Weidenkopf, Annie E. Rudy, Emma T. Holt, Lena
M. Bankhardt, Loey M. Davey, Mary Taylor, Eva Lane, Sarah
Venning, Lola Hord, Emma L. Yost. Florence Harris, Eva Brainard,
Annie B. Warner, Jennie M. Roberts, Florence Robinson,- Lucy


Robinson, Willie Robinson, Mamie J. Purdie, Annie Purdie, James
J. Purdie, Charlie A. Lyman, J. D. Campbell, Marian A. Campbell,
and M. M. De Veny.
Allen S. Jamison, Carrie Jamison, Jennie Jamison, Lucie Jamison,
Florence Knight, Lilly Weiss, Ida Englman, Alfred Weiss, Harold
Rankins, William Black, and Frank Knight.
Pansie Dudley, Maude Bishop, Lillie Dunten, Fannie Lansing,
Minnie Yates, Leah Moore, Dora Conklin, and Blanche Wilkinson.
Bryant Beecher, Abbie Beecher, Alice Beecher, Morie Sampson,
Willie Sampson, Minnie Sampson, Eddie Sampson, Otto Stewart,
Charlie Stewart, Cassius Stewart, Maggie McGuire, Frankie How-
land, James Howland, Johnny Howland, and Willie Howland.
Belle Fawcett, Elsie Smith, Libbie Smith, Issie Smith, Lena
Adams, and Mary Eddy.
Julia D. Elliott, Lessie Gay Adams, Carrie Matthews, Jessie Short-
ridge, Eben. Bradesyle, Olive Bradesyle, May Bradesyle, and Russell
Nellie Beale, Ida Vallette, Fred J. Beale, Julia G. Beale, Florence
W. Ryder, Clara Louise Ryder, Nettle Myers, Hattie E. Edwards,
Alice W. Edwards, Carrie Hurd, May Keith, John W. Cary, Jr., J.
Brayton, Parmelee, Ella C. Parmelee, Lillie B. Coggeshall, Katie S.
Baker, Ruth and Mabel Davison, Mary Wilcox, Reinette Ford, Alma
Sterling, Edith Sterling, Hildegarde Sterling, Mary Manley, Edith
Manley, Romeo G. Brown, Harry Blackwcll, Mary Blackwell, Lillie
Bartholomew, May Bartholomew, Mollie E. Church, H. J. Rowland,
Eugene Rowland, A. B. Smith, Mills Clark, Minnie M. Denny,
Fannie L. Clark, Helen R. Mvnger, Ida Diserens, Lemmie Bryant,
Hattie Bryant, Edward K. Titus, Carrie James, Arthur James, and
Carrie M. Hapgood.
Clinton B. Poe, Louis P. Sledge, Frank Thayer, Harry Samson,
William Jackson, 'fred Mestry, Edward Wells, Fred Lane, Nat.
Lane, Ed. Palmer, ..arry Wood, Will Chase, Will Perry, Harry
Brower, John Brower, Charles Bogert, Sam Bell, Joseph Bell,
David Bell, Will Gorden, Fred Norton, Gus Wells, Jamsie Cohen,
Angus McKenzie, Malcolm McKenzie, Spencer McKenzie, Hetty
Seixers, Emma Scott, Susan Huntoon. Lizzie Gregory, Winnie
Gregory, Nettle Gregory, Aggie Scott, Lizzie Scott, Minnie Samson,
Flora Scott, Pauline Unger, Mildred McKibbin, Jane Clooney, Kate
Clooney, Mary Bannen, Carrie McGinnis, Georgiana Armond, Susie
O'Brien, Cynthia Wells, Lottie Kip, Pussy Keyes, Grace Cabot,
Winnie Norton, Susy White, Etta Palmer, Gracie Howard.
Eulalie Guthrie, Gertrude Burtch, Minnie De Rush, Flora De Rush,
Mabel Boes, Kate John, Carrie John, Ella John, Dolly Rush, Lilly
John, Sarah Coppess, Sydney Miller, Sarah Miller, Nettie Boes, Ellen
Johnson, Mary A. Johnson, Mary A. Coppess, Ella Stephens, Dora
McFarland, William Sheffel, Solomon Sheffel, Alonzo Boees, John
Deming, Willie Deming, John Brown, Samuel Brown, William Brown,
James Brown, John McKahn, Charlie Coppess, Otwell McCowan,
William McCowan, Elmer Collins, Bowen John,William John, David
Reigle, Isaac Stephens, Milton John, Samuel Morrison.
John Carter Baker, George Henry Packard, Arthur Howard Ding-
ley, Joseph Bixby Lesner, Johnny Lanagan, Albert Nye Cleveland,
James Everett Small, Frank Albert Huntington, Joseph Henry Cheet-
ham, Arthur Brown Towle, Geo. Wood, Wesley Miller, Geo. Emmet
Lynch, Nealy Clifford, L. E. Elder, Patsy Lahey, Emma Watson
Litchfield, Abba Ardell Washburn, Luella Robbins, Effie May Pratt,
Rosa D. Nealy, Belle Manning Baker, Winifred E. Nason, Emma
Frances Cobb, Hattie May Whitney, and Lizzie T. Sargent.
Lewis Hilles, Davis Grubb, D. W. Jordan, G. B. Hittinger,
C. H. Hittinger, Edwin Cooling, PaulBirnie, W. M. Barrelle, Norrie
Robinson, L. F. Eckel, George R. Groff, Zachary T. Guthrie, Edwin
S. Farra, Robert E. Sayers, Eddie Canby, J. B. Grubb, Walter L.
Butler, Eddie A. Ryon, Richard W. Gilpin, Willie S. Mitchell, Cyrus
P. Enos, Willie Beggs, James Hile, David P. Michner, N. Dusbane
Cloward, and John J. Britt
Florence P. Spofford,. Helen Nicolay, Lizzie M. Junken, Emily
Snowden, Flora Freyhold, Mattie W. Garges, Annie Beers, Blanche
Jordan, Emma Stewart, Laura Seymour, Susie Hartwell, Florence
P. Spofford, R. A. Ware, John F. Clark, Dan'l Clark, Charles S.
Jones, and Harry Morton.
Katy E. Gilligan, Sydney D. Gilligan, Josie D. Gilligan, Romolo
Balcazer, Constance M. Burke, Nellie Gilligan, John D. Stephens,
Robert M. Stephens, Minnie W. Stephens, Norma L. Freeman, Ada
G. Marsh, Emily B. Giroff, Belle McKeage, and Lillie Coward.
Sidney M. Prince, Nelson Bodine, Jennie Bodine, Mattle Lester,
Mary Lester, Garra Lester, George G. Prince, Cora L. Frink, George

L. Dancer, Clelie L. Dancer, Eugene Dancer, Jason S. Dancer, and
Alvin Dancer.
Emily T. Carow, Kitty Waldo, Carrie Sutton, Genie Dart, Susy
Kunhardt, Madline Smith, Kitty C. Pratt, Corinna Smith, Edith
Marshall, Alice Towle, Addie Close, Annie Close, and Laura Agnew.
Charles H Mathewson, Edwin L. Mathewson, Charles B. Tyler,
S. Mason Tyler, Charles Mason, Howard Budlong, William Barbour,
and Irving Hicks.
C. Burton Jones, George N. Thompson, Jennie A. Chidsey, Ida
S. Woodruff, Belle A. Woodruff, John R. Crawley, Bertha J. Wood-
ruff, Horace L. Judd, and Charlie C. Judd.
Sadie D. Morrison, Annie Brace, Mary A. Flanner, Mary Gardner,
Emma B. Harwood, Emma J. Hubble, Mary E. Kaneen, and Nellie
Fannie R. Rose, Kittle A. Comstock, Belle Northrop, Nellie A.
Knowles, Chickie M. Bull, and Julia S. Savage.
Dolly W. Kirk, Maggie Prieto, Josephine Prieto, Madeline Prieto,
Margaret Sharp, and Irene Givens.
Hannah J. Powell, Annie E. Eaton, George E. Eaton, Stewart
Eaton, Maud Eaton, Mattie Eaton, and George J. Powell.
Charlie Balestier, Carrie Balestier, Josephine Balestier, Beatty Bal-
estier, and Bella Hartz.
Delia M. Conkling, Alice E. Palmer, Francine M. Yale, Natalie
B. Conkling, and Ollie H. Palmer.
Willie H. Patten, May Elizabeth Patten, Jessie Alien, and Emma
George De Lorenzo Burton, Effie Thompson, Charles R. Baldwin,
Belle Baldwin, Ella G. McSwaly, Willie H. McSwaly, Johnny Flagg,
Annie Louise Wright, Winnie Louise Bryant, Mac Moorhead, Attie
E. Campbell, J. B. Parmelee, Lolie C. Hoy, Arthur I. Clymer, Na-
thaniel Haven, Daisy Haven, Charles B. Davis, Richard H. Davis,
Freddie H. Shelton, Lulu Conrad, Fred B. Nickerson, Willie E.
Nickerson, Edward L. Anderson, Grace Nunemacher, J. Chase,
Florence Ballantine, Eddie L. Heydecker, Zuilee Hubbard, Katy E.
Gilligan, Mamie A. Johnson, Katie S. West, Susie H. West, Fred
N. West, Mabel Williston, Emily Williston, Constance B. Williston,
Alice M. Williston, Willie Shenvood, and Nellie Reynolds.

The above list gives the names of the Bird-defenders which have
been printed from month to month in ST. NICHOLAS.
Below will be found the names of


received since the May number of the magazine was made up. There
are hundreds of them, and they gallantly fall into the ranks of the
Grand Army.

First of all comes this troup of Cleveland children: Anna Bach,
Gertrude Oakley, Robert Bruce, Adela Knisely, Mary Heuby, Alice
Miller, Lillie Munsell, Nora Weeks, Nellie Willcutt, Nettie Sicha,
Jessie Norton, Millie Holt, Sidney Johnson, Jessie Somers, Anna
Fowler, Sibbie Fowler, Carrie Cowdery, Lizzie Oglevee, Annie
Freedimann, Addie Strong, Nettie Shepek, Amelia Weber, Carrie
Price, Harry Davis, Daisy James, Katie Seelig, Charles Dreher,
Emily Squires, Willie Rabe, Joseph Mahah, Albert Schafer, Herbert
Colebrook, Susie Brown, Minnie Parker, Nellie French, Luella
Hopp, Clara Squires, Minnie Holt, Nina Ballou, Cora Patterson,
Freddy Adams, Mary Carter, Carrie Goss, Myra Fisk, Lizzie Crick,
Minnie Drake, Lizzie Gore, Nellie Smith, Herbert Pearn, Amy Goss,
Annie Davis, Barbary Pescolor, Sarah Mark, Howard Kiblee, Willie
Jarvis, Annie Hudsova, Minnie Stone, Deloss Loshbough, Harry
Mansur, Walter McCurdy, Arthur Snitch, Fannie Sataransky,
Gertrude Morgan, Sarah Breyley, Suna Fenton, Harriett Butcher, -
Florence Crowell, Minnie Huggard, Lovey Harris, Emma Westlake,
Ehner Herbert, Charlie Gerling, Hannah Neber, Sadie Amy, Viola
McLoud, Ida Seib, Ella Meeker, Florence Amidon, Walter Massey,
Freddie Pearn, Charlie Georget, Milton Boyd, Natie Kendall, Gudley
Homel, Frank Eggert, Freddy Massey, Alice Zwicker, Ella Krause,
James Warnock, Lizzy Carter, George Herbert, Annie Hathaway,
Maud Mansur, Amelia Stanley, Eugene E. Stevens, and Gertie
And just from the shores of the Great Salt Lake come these boys
and girls together-forty fifty seventy-five of them !-and all led


by a little girl named Snow, who is anxious, at least, to defend her
namesakes, the snow-birds: Bertie Snow, Elliott Snow, Wm. Ensign,
Sarah Council, Hyrum Standing, Leonard Standing, Charles Lutz,
Harriet Standing, Agnes Standing, Willis Beardsley, William Lee
Dykes, Orson Arnold, Elizabeth Standing, Josephine Taylor, Joseph
Vincent, John Calder, Jennie Calder, Alice Freeze, Maggie Freeze,
Lulu Hardy, Martha Hardy, Nettle Leeker, Hannah Lutz, Nellie
Bowring, Clara Arnold, Daniel Calder, Samuel Calder, Basil Green,
Charles Green, Louisa Chapman, Walter Bowring, William Bowring,
Oliver Young, Adolph Young, Charles Brewer, Joseph Caine,
Wm. White, Edgar Druce, Anna Simms, Solomon Angell, Frederic
Webb, Wilfred Webb, Louis Webb, Albert Webb, Harriet Taft,
Annie Lindsay, James Caine, William Jack, Robert Jack, Joseph
Jack, Jane Jack, Minnie Jack, David Midgeley, George Pyper, W.
0. Angell, Edward Wood, and Gershon Wells.
And here is a Jamestown company, just falling into line, with
Frank I. Evens at its head: Orton Taylor, Lilian Taylor, Minnie
Taylor, Grant Cory, Bertha Cory, Frank Cory, Scott S. Kelly, Tella
Evans, Howard Smith, Gertrude Smith, Emmet Smith, Anna Smith,
George Burtch, Fred Shepard, Charlie Shepard, Olly Smith, Frank
Smith, Trand Davis, Fred Smith, Fred Willson, Walter Willson,
Lewis Willson, Edwin Willson, Nettle Smith, Liddie Juden, Mary
Juden, Archie Mambirt, Russia Mambirt, Horace Aplin, Jay Raw-
ley, Charles Taylor, Charlie Willson, Ana Willson, Harriet Smith,
Sarah Thomas, Morris Bernus, Nettie Robison, Jennie Robinson,
Yale Burtch, Clarence Burtch, Sewil Washburn, and Flory Washburn.
And here are some Kentucky volunteers, enlisted by Buford Hen-
drick: Sam Bull, Thomas Averill, Craik Jackson, Julian Tilford,
John Murphy, Willie Lindsey, Willie Macklin, Julian Jackson, Geo.
Nesbitt, Crittenden Todd, Benny Dudley, John Glanton, Sam Miles,
Ambrose Parker, Egbert Stephens, Charley Stephens, Sam Knoder,
Hugh Gay, Kenner Taylor, James Todd, Noble Lindsey, Dudley
Watson, Thos. B. Macklin, Tom McDowell, Willie McDowell, John
Grant, Alec Grant, Rebecca Averill, Ruby Macklin, Nannie Hiner,
Maria Lindsey, Bonnie Todd, Kittie Todd, Josie Murphy, Fannie
Murphy, Nellie Theobald, Nellie Dudley, Allie Todd, Mary John-
son, Maggie Dudley, and Antoinette Lindsey.
And now Gertie May Perry, leading a company from Maine: Jessie
Chadwick, Mamie Mulnix, Lottie Ricker, Mamie Higgins, Nellie
Roberts, Josie Sawyer, Susie Smith, Jennie Hillman, Ida Ball, Katie
Berry, Mary Day, Gracie Lovitt, Eva Morse, Eliza Floyd, Annie A.
Frost, Florence Ellis, Bertie Rich, Willie Lovitt, Willie Maher,
Freddie Hall, John Ripley, Seth Hersey, Fred Ricker, Henry
Thomes, Millie Hicks, Stevie Morse, Willard Norton, Johnie La-
tham, Harry Higgins, Georgie Smarden, Charlie Aimes, and Bertie
Then a troop of children, with Amy Williams first: Ellen Hooston,
Kate Hooston, Grace Foot, Nellie Howe, Willie Howe, Charlie
Howe, Mary Hunt, Bertha Osgood, Harry Osgood, Sadie Hall, Alice
Decamy, Rose Baker, Mary Scott, Esther Scott, Frank Newcome,
Charley Newcome, Edward Young, George Broswell, Carrie Bros-
well, Hattie Coals, Mattie Phillips, Arthur Phillips, Frank Phillips,
Rose Stete, Lillie Stete, Amy Mason, George Mason, Henry Mason,
Charlie Fraler.,
And then Alma Williams' Illinois band: Julia Williams, Bernard
Williams, May Briggs, Kate Sprague, May Sprague, Anna Wilson,
Joseph Wilson, Charley Montgomery, Cora May, Amy Williams,
Anaita May, Frank Howell, Jane Howell, Dora Dean, Jimmie Dean,
Alma Dean, Kate Bowen, Obe Bowen, Edgar Bowen, George Baker.
Nancy Baker, Booth Ayres, Julia Ayres, Emma Sprague, Anna and
Erastus Dye, Edgar Sommell, Lucy Sommell, and Edith Sommell.
Then comes Harvey B. Dale and his mates, from the Wisconsin
lakes: Blanche Osborn, Carrie Smith, Annie Edwards, Lillie Rudd,
Louise Kirkham, Mary Allen, Cora Elsemore, Ina Finney, Lizzie
Babcock, Annie Stille, Henry Yentner, George Kirkham, Willie Ed-
wards, Grant Gill, Albert Harshaw, Decatur Robbins, Robert Ser-
vice, Elbert Hall, Frank Koif, John McCabe, Frank Worden, Walter
Reed, Henry Diacon, and Mortie Heath.
New York sends a company, too, under Captain Peter Studdiford:
Bertie Shearman, Tommie Shearman, Percy Powell, Jerome Bradly,
Bernard Gregory, Libbie Gregory, Mamie Shearman, Ada Shearman,
Mabel Jenks, May Powel, Nettie McClay, Hattie Hillard, Lillie
Fletcher, Dora McChesny, Carrie Studdiford, Clara Studdiford, Hat-
tie Studdiford, Katie Stroud, Sissy Stroud, Jennie Gregory, Emma
Ruckel, Lillie Hillard, Grace Banker, Louisa Cooper, Marie Day,
and C. Sallie Day.

And here is Theresa Hays with her comrades. See how the line
lengthens out: Alice Maud Lambert, Annie D. Richmond, Belle
Doolittle, Carrie Hays, Edith Ashley, Fannie Hays, Fannie Rosen-
berg, Frankie Merell, Hattie Galusha, Irene Hays, Jennie Rosenberg,
Jennie Delmotter, Lillie Delmotter, Lulu Skinner, Nellie Van Voor-
his, Nettle T. Lambert, Stella Stettheimer, Carrie Stettheimer, Walter
Hays, and Annie Delmotter.
More yet! For now we have a Berkshire band, led by Sophie
Olivier: Laura H. Olivier, Louise H. Olivier, Ophelia S. Brown,
Dora A. Brown, Romeo W. Brown, Clements A. Brown, Mary L.
Eldredge, Richard L. Eldredge, Mary H. Prentice, Jennie Ballou,
Charlie Ballou, Charlie Mayor, Eliza Chappins, Emma Chappins,
and Clinton Marsh, who says that he will defend small birds, but will
not promise for large ones, for once in a while he kills a crow. But
the crows overheard that, and will look out for him !
And here is another company from Salt Lake City, with Willard
Young as leader: Arthur Pratt, Ernest Pratt, Arthur Park, Cornelius
Campbell, James Campbell, Maria Wooley, Rosetta Groo, George
Morris, Rhoda Young, Annie Taylor, Mary Shumway, Mabel
Park, Lizzie Musser, Martha Pickard, Annie Heath, and Lizzie
Now comes Willie S. Burns with seventeen more: Sadie Ellas,
Jenny Woodruff, Lizzie Belcher, Samuel Scott, John Scott, Jenny
Scott, Nelly Scott, Lucy Scott, Katy Quigly, Jenny Quigly, Jenny
Poole, James Poole, James Lindsay, Tom Nichols, Willy McKenna,
Sophie Bums, and Willie Burns.
Mamie E. Wolverton leads a Pennsylvania band: Willie M. Wol-
verton, Willie P. Walter, Katie Martin, Tommie Martin, Mamie C.
Lesher, Nellie Stotzer, Annie Wippler, Annie Hilliard, Sue E. Kahler,
Maggie Mclllhany, Lizzie King, Mary Kolb, Mamie Dachrodt, and
Sallie Heinen.
And then Lily F. Conkey, of Chicago,-a true Bird-defender and a
determined recruiting officer,-brings up her thirdcompany: Prof.
David Swing, Mrs. David Swing, Mrs. J. Sloan, Emily M. B. Felt,
Hattie E. Root, Sadie Magill, Minnie M. Norton, Jessie Campbell,
W. R. Eaton, Ella J. Felton, Daisy L. Burdick, Louise C. Schiffer,
Olga Steinetz, Hattie A. Russell, and William Sweasy.
Next Edward H. Cole forms his band from Albany: Anna Merce,
Ida Wygant, Lilly Miller, Nellie Miller, Lena Young, Daisy Carroll,
W. Walter Cole, Frank Andes, Frank S. Strickland, Frank W. Sea-
man, Daniel J. Coughlin, Timothy Manion, Elmer Wygant, Willie
Sarrant, and Terrance Carrol.
From Vermont comes Annie Waters, with Lizzie Lander, Maggie
Lander, Lizzie Davie, Ellen Davie, Gussie Webster, Annie Spencer,
Ethel Paige, Emma Larma, Agnes Rogers, Jennie Parks, Jennie
Dudley, Arthur F. Stone, Matthew Robinson, and Henry Rob-
And next to them, May Reese forms her little company: Sophia
Sawyer, Jessie Shurtleff, Kittie De Graff, Josie Hunt, Susie Alden,
Kittie Little, Katie Wing, Carrie Flinn, Anna Underdown, Ellen
Banka, Sadie Mandler, and Enna Plopper.
Massachusetts sends Nellie Chase and a dozen others: Annie S.
Page, Maud F. Allen, Kittie L. Bowles, Jessie A. Benton, Nellie
Lincoln, Hattie Emerson, Florence A. Stone, Fannie L. Richardson,
Jennie Loring, Sallie Chase, Nellie Chase, John C. Abbott, and
Robby L. Bowles.
Then comes a band of girls from New Hamburg: Meta M. Reese,
Lilly F. Swords, May Swords, Alice Reese, Maria Reese, Charley
Swords, W. Willis Reese, B. F. Carroll, and Jessie Wetmore.
And now, crowding upon each other, so that we can hardly tell
who comes first, and falling in almost before we know it, are all these:
Marie P. Lawrence, Emily P. Lawrence, Ellie Welsh, Maggie E.
Burke, Maggie Graham, Lizzie Graham, Hallie A. Linn, Andrew
M. Linn, Henry H. Linn, Charles F. Linn, Geo. T. Linn, Annie
E. Powers, Lizzie Kiernan, Lizzie J. Concklin, Hattie Littell, Anna
Littell, Mary Littell, Agnes Levin, H. T. Vanderbilt, John Stephen
son, Thomas MacMahon, Julius De Graffe, George Thule, Francine
M. Yale, Alice E. Palmer, Oliver H. Palmer, Gertie Well, Clara
Well, Robbie Well, Carrie E. Campbell, Fannie Campbell, Nettie
Campbell, Mary W. Church, Lillie M. Church, Addle S. Church,
Mattie L. Woodworth, Kate A. Chew, Arthur S. Gerrish, Jeanie A.
Gerrish, Ida Anderson, Katie Anderson, Florence A. Pusey, Harry
Gardner, Burt Gardner, Nettie W. Pierce, Willie W. Pierce, Cora
Hubbell, Bessie Guthrie, Willie A. Crocker, Mamie H. Crocker,
Willie Holmes, Gertrude Holmes, Katie G. Bolster, Willie S. Mott,
Edward Robins, Harry F. Tilge, George M. Reese, Tracy Lion,


George P. Carey, Grace M. Carleton, Frank Noyes, John T. Plum-
mer, F. L. Brown, Mabel Hoskins, Harry Noel, Frank H. Briggs,
May P. Fitch, Louis Akin, Kitty L. Waldo, Willie M. Fullerton,
John W. Vivian, Charles R. Fultz, Louis Chandler, Willie Weight-
man Walker, Lillie D. Howe, Belle Brown, Mattie Brown, Lucy
Fletcher, Albert Fletcher, Agnes Fletcher, Frederick L. Coggeshall,
Florence Coggeshall, John Hoffman, Chrissie Hoffman, May Still-
man, Katie N. Stillman, Clara Carter, Lillie Carter, Bud Gaddis,
Mary Gaddis, Mollie E. Church, Samuel F. Berry, Charles F. Berry,
Nellie Goodhue, Lulie Schock, W. W. Runyon, Ada Louise Cooke,
Harry H. Cooke, Allan J. Abbe, Henry T. Abbe, Lizzie P. Abbe,
Fred R. Abbe, Jr., Abbie M. Chase, Fannie Hardy, Willhe
Hardy, Alice Hardy, Lansing O. Kellogg, Carl Kellogg, Ellen
Soewell, Harold D. Howell, Herbert C. Emerson, Willie F. Emerson,
Hallie Goodwin, Hattie H. Williams, Carrie W. Fellowes, Ned C.
Fellowes, Bertha Campbell, James H. Campbell, Flora Holt, Byron
Holt, Susie Scofield, Lissie Haydn, Willie A. Durnett, Bessie Dur-
nett. Leonard F. Apthorp, Lewis J. Powers, Jr, Mary Sawyer,
Eddie Sawyer, Cornelia Mawry, Helen Cary, Mary L. Robinson,
Charlie B. Cole, Mary Henck, Jennie Sieber, Lizzie Higgins, Annie
F. Drake, Mrs. S. C. Graves, Belle Burns, Emma McGregor,
Maggie Scholten, Lucy Owen, Fannie Owen, Mrs. S. R. Owen,

Mary E. Andrews, Stella Byron, Nina Byron, Clara Byron, Ada
Byron, Ollie Byron, Arla Budd Byron, Percy Byron, Gordon Byron,
Harold Byron, Agnes Olwell, Alfred W. Putnam, John Woodruff,
Ogden B. Woodruff, Lulu C. Woodruff, Irenmus P. Woodruff, Willie
R. Woodruff, Joseph W. Woodruff, Francis S. Woodruff, Minnie
Stowell, Eddie Tuttle, Amelia Tuttle, Belle Meeker, May Bragdon,
Claude F. Bragdon, Elsie Johnson, Harry Johnson, Frank S. Bil-
lings, Ida J. Weber, Louise Calvin, Bessie L. Gray, Arnold Guyot
Cameron, Frank H. Belknap, Willie V. Belknap, Dugald C. Jack-
son, Nattie Rutter, Hattie Rutter, Frank Baker, Bessie Rutter, Geo.
H. Dale, Louise Ketchum Snow, Emily Ida Snow, William Josiah
Snow, Ida E. Decker, Helen Jackson, Sarah M. Gallaudet, Henry
R. Baker, F. Savidge, Henry Carver, Fannie R. Kilham, Nettie B.
Kilham, Lizzie P. Studley, Kittie W. Studley, Ella J. Tuck, Abby
C. Wells, Clara L. Remmonds, Nellie A. Moulton, Annie B. Chap-
man, Clara Swasey, Susie P. Foster, Stella Mabel Baldwin, Minnie
Ella Littlefield, Grace E. Weston, Grace Quimby, Susie A. Wells,
Ethel Lane, Katy Chadwick, Florence Hatch, Mary Gertrude Foster,
Gertrude Russ, Alice Victoria Blake, Annie Franklin Blake, Hattie
Lewis Blake, William A. Ryan, Emma F. Ryan, Frederick Ryan,
Lulu Ryan, Fred S. Goodwin, Fannie C. Goodwin, Sadie E. Milli-
ken, and Isabelle Wheelwright.

For the benefit of those unacquainted with the history of the Army of Bird-defenders, we here give a reprint of Mr. C. C. Haskins' article,
originally published in the number of ST. NICHOLAS for December, 1873, and the real basis of the organization.



MY DEAR CHILDREN : I have been thinking for
a long time of writing a plea for a large family of
our friends who are wantonly destroyed and abused
by impulsive persons without good reason, and,
very often, thoughtlessly. These friends are con-
stantly at work for our good, and are doing much
to cheer and enliven our every-day lives. If they
were suddenly exterminated, we should sadly miss
them, and regret their absence. They are the birds
-all of them-from the eagle and the vulture
down to the tiniest humming-bird that pokes his
little needle bill into the depths of our delicate
flowers, and makes an ample dinner on less than a
drop of honey. ST. NICHOLAS and I have had
some correspondence on the subject
of the abuse of birds, and we have i 1
devised a plan for their protection.
How do you think we propose doing
this? We are going to raise an
army of defense, without guns, and '
carry war right into the enemy's
camp. We shall use example and I'.
argument and facts, instead of pow- i
der, and we must try to carry on the
war until we conquer, and the birds
have perfect peace.

Before we can do much we must drum up our
volunteers. We want all the boys, and the girls also,
to form themselves into companies. But if any of
the good fathers and mothers desire to join our
young folks' army, we shall be heartily glad to
have them do so.
Through ST. NICHOLAS we will be enabled to
learn the plans of our commanders, and the move-
ments of the enemy; in it we can urge the claims
of the birds, and answer all the false logic of any
who dare oppose us.
There have been, at different times, in some
parts of Europe, societies organized for the exter-
mination of particular kinds of birds, because they
were said to destroy fruits and grains. At
,i, annual meeting of one of these, in the
countyy of Sussex, England, the report of the
In rd-murderers showed that this club alone
had put to death seventeen thousand spar-
rows! This was only in one county.
Other counties encouraged the same
sort of slaughter. In France, too, the
same outrageous killing was encour-
aged, and poisoned grain was sown,
Year after year, until the rapid in-
crease of noxious insects completely


ruined several of the grain-producing districts, and
convinced the people of the error they had com-
mitted. A law was then passed, protecting the
birds, and with the return of the merry little worm-
eaters, the insects diminished in number, and the
fields again became productive.
By careful investigation, it has been ascertained
that a single pair of Euro-
pean sparrows, during the
S- infancy of their brood, feed
S their little ones an average
. ''''about three thousand three
S-1khundred and sixty cater-
fillars in a week! Now,
take your slates and pen-
cils, my little friends, and
i see how many caterpillars
Sin a month the sparrows
killed by that Sussex County
club would have destroyed
if they had been permitted. Think what quantities
of pretty leaves, how many bushels of grain, and
what an abundance of nice fruit must be destroyed
by the taking off of seventeen thousand worm-eating
birds !
There is a class of birds which feed on very small
seeds. Did you ever shake a dry weed-stalk and
see what quantities of seed fell from it? It makes
very abundant provision for plenty of weeds of its
kind next year. The seed-eating birds, who live
mostly on this kind of seed, do more than the
farmer and all his help in preventing the increase
of weeds; and without the birds the farmer would
find his plow and hoe-work more than doubled.
Hawks and crows are our friends. So are the
owls. The snakes and mice and rats devoured by
these good fellows far exceed all that are killed by
all the terrier dogs on the continent. And birds
are my especial preference for two other reasons: I
never have to beg meat for them at the butcher's,
and I never heard of one having the hydrophobia.
They do occasion-
ally take a chicken
for a holiday din-
,. ~ ner, perhaps; but
the rats and the
S weasels do much
More of that sort
of rascality than
-- they; and if the
birds were less
Fearful of being
shot at and trap-
ped there would be fewer rats in the barns, and the
weasels would have to hide or. die.
Almost every boy who goes gunning, if he can
find nothing that he wants to bang away at, con-

siders it the next best thing to kill a few woodpeck-
ers. They look so funny, wrong end up on the side
of a tree, bobbing and whacking around the loose
bark, that the temptation is strong, and the poor,
jolly hammerer has no friends-so bang!/-and
down he comes, and he is given to the dog to play
with and tear to pieces. That poor little bird, if
over a year old, has killed and eaten many hundred
thousands of bugs' larvae, in the form of grubs and
worms, and almost every one of a kind which is
injurious to vegetation. The cat-bird, one of our
finest singers, and a bird that is always sociable, if
ever permitted to be so, eats a cherry occasionally,
and of course he must be banished or suffer death.
He pays a better price for every cherry he eats
than any fruiterer would dare demand in the
market, in the worms he destroys, and throws in a
complete bird-opera several times a day in the
The king-bird, or phebe-bird, is too often stoned
and shot and frightened-and almost -any farmer's
boy deems it a duty to risk his neck while climbing
under a bridge to get at and destroy its mud
nest. Why? "He kills our bees!" Well, yes, he

does kill bees. He
is very cunning
about it, too. He
watches the hive,
sitting very near,
as the bees go and
come under his
very nose, and
sometimes he is
impudent enough
to alight close to
the entrance, and

- .. _Z
-. -


:- -

rap with his bill to announce that he is making
a call. Oh! what a rascal! A murderer, calling
his victim to the door of his own house, that he
may kill, and then eat him! And when the bees
come to the door to answer the knock, Mr. Phebe
selects the largest bee, and makes off to the fence-
corner or to his mud nest to enjoy his prize. But
the queer part of it all is that he only eats the drone
bees, which never store any honey, and when the
flowers become scarce the working bees kill these
lazy drones and pitch them out of the hive. So the
king-bird is a help, instead of a damage, to the
There are many reasons, in addition to what I
have given you, why birds should be protected,
but I must omit them now, and proceed to our
I want all the little people to assist me in select-
ing a name for our army. There has been a deal
of thinking and discussing, and we have said
" that's it 1 ah, no it is n't many times, and


I am not sure we have quite hit it, yet. What
do you say? There are "Bird Advocates," "Bri-
gades," Guards," Friends," and ever so many
more, but I am best pleased with "BIRD DE-
FENDERS." What do you think of it?

As a basis on which to commence work, let us
adopt the following preamble and resolution :
Whereas, We, the youth of America, believing
that the wanton destruction of wild birds is not only
cruel and unwarranted, but is unnecessary, wrong,
and productive of mischief to vegetation as well as
to morals; therefore,
Resolved, That we severally pledge ourselves to
abstain from all such practices as shall tend to the
destruction of wild birds; that we will use our best
endeavors to induce others to do likewise, and that

we will advocate the rights of birds at all proper
times, encourage confidence in them, and recog-
nize in them creations of the great Father, for the
joy and good of mankind.
Now, little folks, there is a starting-point; send

in your names. ST. NICHOLAS is ready to hear
from each and all of you on the subject of bird-
protection, and will be glad to learn what you have
to say about organizing yourselves for this really
important and humane work. Come forward freely
with your plans, and let us all put our wits together
and see if we can not decide upon a line of defense
for our little feathered friends, who, poor things,
are unable to defend themselves from their thought-
less or cruel enemies. Here is an opportunity for
all of us to do good work.